#ILL DO ANYTHING!!! STREAM THE FUCK OUTTA THIS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

[paint-n-thinner]

SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT PSA!!!!

Many may not know, but this show (👇👇) is going to be releasing on netflix on NOVEMBER 14TH!!!

I need everyone that follows me and has access to a netflix account to stream it so a season 2 gets greenlit! I NEED A SECOND SEASON OR I DIE!!!! DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE? NO? THEN STREAM IT LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT CAUSE IT DOES!!

get hypnotized 🌀🌀 oooo you want to watch the fairly oddparents so bad oooo🌀🌀

[billsbabydoll]

“𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓊𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓍𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ, 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹.”

contains:HARSH ANGST+SMUT<3

summary:finally getting sick of bills toxicity and instability, i packed up all of my belongings and planned to “leave him” or as i stupidly told myself, only to find myself easily falling back into his same hypnotizing trap.

WARNINGS:abusive relationship, fighting, arguing, manipulation (I DO NOT CONDONE ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS in this story, this story is ONLY for entertainment purposes!!!), very narcissistic and misogynistic bill, hard-dom!bill, dumb-sub!reader, p in v (against the wall), degrading, pet-names, LIGHT choking, heavy breeding kink.

notes:as someone who has experienced theses types of situations firsthand, if you ever do find yourself in these kinds of circumstances please take the initial steps to get yourself out that relationship immediately, youll be fine i promise love ya!

HEAVY THEMES AHEAD!

“yeah go fucking cry about it you sensitive bitch, get the fuck outta’ my face!”bill loudly shouted at me from the living room as i ran and locked myself into our shared bedroom, tears streaming profusely down my cheeks, as i tumbled onto the bed and proceeded to curl myself up into a small pathetic ball.

im tired of living like this, being so isolated, feeling so trapped, being so mentally and physically drained, having to constantly walk around eggshells around him.

me and bills relationship was a perfect fairytale in the beginning, but quickly came burning down in flames and burnt down to pure ashes at his rage.his anger completely undoing every single precious thing he ever once said to me.

every “i love you.” or “i cant wait to start a life with you.” was once a simple loving string of words now being dangled high above my head as a reminder of his broken promises.

i still cling onto that small glimmer of hope that he could change some-day, that he could love me again, or that he could simply hold me without hurting me.

i lay in my own pity for a long grueling hour before i decide to slowly unravel myself from my position, gently getting up from the bed, wiping the tears from my eyes telling myself,

“i need to leave,

right now.”

i kick into full panic mode and immediately start changing into a dark colored tracksuit and a comfortable pair of sneakers, then i rummage through our closet grabbing random handfuls of my belongings stuffing my suitcase to the brim.

i quietly creak the bedroom door open and make my way through the dark hallway, my luggage in one hand as i try to rush towards the front door.

“going somewhere babe?”he eerily questioned, his evil presence immediately sending cold chills down my spine.

“i-i-uhm..”i mumbled trying to find some kind of explanation but it was if something was struck in my throat, i looked like a child who just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“im leaving!”i managed to spit out, slowly turning to face him.

“oh your leaving?”he responded in a cartoonish voice mocking my own, chuckling manically at my response.

he crosses his arms over his chest as he cockily looks me up and down, he then quickly steps forward grabbing me by my chin with his right hand, yanking a fistful of my hair with his left.

“cant you see THIS is the life i promised you honey?you know no-ones ever gonna buy you all those pretty dresses you like wearing f’me, provide for you like i do, or keep a GODDAMN roof over your head like i do!”

what he was saying was true, without him i wouldnt have a single penny to my name.he took care of every expense, he even had me on a monthly allowance but he didnt do anything of it out of the goodness of his heart he rather used it to his advantage knowing hed always win.

“i know i know but, i-im tired of you being like this bill, im sick of it!i swear ill give it all back if thats what you really want!”i nervously murmured, his grip on my chin and hair tightening.

“your such an ungrateful brat, you dont even deserve to be breathing the same air as me, i shouldve just throw you out months ago like the trashy bitch you are.”

he yelled into my face before slamming me against the wall letting go of some of his grip on me as he pulled down his pants and boxers along with my sweatpants and panties.

“you wanna be treated like a worthless whore ill fucking treat you like one then.“

he wrapped one of his arms strongly around my neck keeping me in place, as he teased his cock in between my slicks folds, causing me to softly whimper.

“aww…look at you poor baby, you just wanted some attention huh, want me to fuck you isnt that right?”he purred squeezing my neck firmly in his arm, sliding his length harshly inside my walls.

though i hated to admit it, it truly turned me on how possessive and upset he got when i tried leaving it showed me he still sort-of cared.the fact he still had enough respect to still fuck me was enough to have me eating right out of his palm, anytime he showed me the slightest bit of affection it casted his spell over me all over again.

he continued thrusting his full length inside my cunt, beginning to aggressively pound away, my head banging against the cold wall.

“ugh-i shouldnt even be mmhtouching you right now ungrateful bitch!”he shouted, his free hand slapping my ass sure enough to leave hand prints the next morning.

“f-fuck fuck, im ughh-yours baby!”i moaned out, tears beginning to spill from my eyes, his tip kissing my cervix perfectly.

“das ist r-richtig, mhm!du gehst verdammt noch mal nirgendwo hin(thats right, your not going fucking anywhere),

gonna fill you all up, hopefully y-you get pregnant that way your ugh-stuck with me!”

the sound of our moans combined with the banging on the wall echoed throughout the house, the faint tv not even being enough to cover up his disgusting insults and my foul cries.

“b-bill ugh please i c-cant!”

“take my f-fucking cock mhmy little cum slut!”

his hips are bucking into mine at an animalistic pace as he urgently chases his release, my walls deliciously clenching around his girth, sending him immediately over the edge.

“scheibe scheibe scheibe(shit shit shit!)”he yelled out suddenly fucking his cock deeper inside my sweet walls, ropes of his seed oozing deep inside my pussy.

“ich w-werde ganz in dir abspritzen du mmh-dumme s-schlampe, ich werde dich mit meinem verdammten baby schwängern (im gonna cum all inside you, stupid slut, im gonna get you pregnant with my baby!)”he adds breeding his cum inside me with a few final thrusts, pulling his length out of me with a loud pop.

bill then releases me from his arm allowing me to slam down onto the floor, pulling his pants up smugly as he knelt down to my level.

“next time im beating the fuck outta’ this was me playing nice, understood? now go make me some dinner before you piss me off again.”

i nod my head instantly at his demands, rubbing the side of my cheek that hit the ground.

“such a good little girl, i love you.” he praised grinning widely down at me before getting back up and walking away from me.

“i love you too.”

and the cycle continues.

THE END

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 5 (Cont.)

Tsubasa ruminates about her current situation in her Symphogear Brand Safety Capsule of Absolute Dunces.

“aight ive done seen the light lemme at that sweet, sweet taco bell”

Meanwhile, some old ass politicians rumble about Relics.

“im old.”

But they immediately get fucked up in a nasty car accident.

As it turns out, the Americans were waiting to intercept these old crones to steal The Goods.

And holy fuck are they are American. Personally, I feel the writers of Symphogear watched Die Hard and immediately went “these people are fucking animals”. That’s just me, though.

“ooh ouch oh mmm ouchie ouch oooo ouch”

They tear into these people with an almost machine like efficiency.

These people don’t fuck around. There’s a strange surreality around it given that this is honestly pretty accurate to how brutal special operatives can be, but the Japanese accent they have in their English voices is... a bit jarring.

“IM BACK FROM THE MALL, YA’LL”

“oh god she’s back”

“ah, ryoko. as per your lingo, quote, ‘i like your new gucci boots... bitch’ was that good? im not fond at cursing at women unless its a mutual training session”

Genjuro alerts that the Minister of Defense for Japan has just been assassinated.

“shits bad”

Conveniently... Ryoko’s phone was broken. In her defense, it’s 2012. Battery life didn’t have the bragging rights it had now for phone.

“i personally use a razer flip phone. those will never go out of style!”

Ryoko manages to show them the box the Americans were trying to get. Suspiciously...

There’s a bloodstain on it.

So the main struggle right now is that the Bad Guys(tm) want to get their hands on Durandal, which is a completed relic that is hidden away miles underneath the school in the 2nd Division Labs.

This musty, old, shitty sword has immense power. Almost Godlike.

“hey why dont we just use the sword to beat up the bad guys”

The sword was handed from the EU to Japan for Japan to safekeep, and in exchange to forgive some of the loans the EU owed Japan should the EU economy collapse.

How topical.

“i read a lot of beserk and honestly im pretty sure someone beats up the bad guys with that dumb sword”

“listen nerd, we’re not doing that dumb weeb anime shit. we’re taking this sword to a vault to the bottom of parliament.”

“thats right. who needs anime when you’ve got nicholas cage.”

And so, they plotted to deliver this dumb sword tomorrow.

Ryoko logs into Runescape.

Fun fact: Fulcanelli is a reference to this dude, who was a French alchemist whose identity nobody really knows. Alchemy is a concept that will come up during GX that has no relevance whatsoever during these first 2 seasons except in some passerby jargon. This as just a cute thing I wanted to point out.

You know, that’s a pretty sexy sword upon closer examination.

“thats the dark souls of swords”

“ah! a fellow gamer! im glad that you too partake of the souls of darkening. would you like to play a two player match somtime, fellow Gamer?”

“I would genuinely rather eat shit for the rest of my life!”

The scene ends. Alright, where are n-

Oh God we’re back to this bullshit. Okay then.

Miku, reasonably, is upset that her wife is gone for several hours for increasingly sketchy reasons. Much like an estranged wife going to see her “tennis instructor” for “private tennis lessons” in the “safety of their house, which has a tennis court”, Miku is worried that Hibiki is a liar liar, pants on fire.

Nose the size of a wire.

Hibiki, feeling the fear of God, quickly bails this increasingly tense situation.

Miku is suffering, and so am I with this hamfisted writing.

“you didnt even try the cookies i made out of frustration for you. i designed them all after me with increasingly angrier faces”

“im too young for a divorce. fuck, those cookies smelled good”

Hibiki decides to not sweat it anymore, opening a magazine and WHOA WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I DONT REMEMBER THIS WHEN DID HIBIKI GET HER HANDS ON THIS OH MY GOD

“HELL NO IM MARRIED THE DEVIL CANNOT TEMPT ME”

Hibiki closes it up to reveal the relevant part of this magazine.

This is subtle, but it’s basically a vehicle to explain how things are covered up for Symphogears. Ogawa walks in, talking about how this headline was his doing.

“i wasn’t joking when i said we were literally the NSA”

Hibiki is happy that Tsubasa has been freed from Metaphor Limbo, having escaped the Water Metaphor Dimension back into real life.

“she literally wont stop talking about taco bell and honestly its killing me inside”

“shit ill get her some”

Ogawa does some schpiel about teamwork and asks Hibiki for an idea on what to do with Tsubasas image even though he’s supposed to be the manager and it’s just general prattle.

Everyone gets briefed about the delivery. Ryoko’s soccer mom van sticks out like a sore thumb. Nobody on the Lydian campus asks why there are 5 cars outside the building with men in suits and fucking Hibiki standing there with them why are these children so fucking incurious.

“this feels like the world’s most important weed delivery, but im going to deliver the SHIT out of that weed”

“hibiki please its not weed”

“ALRIGHT FAM LETS DELIVER THE SHIT OUT OF THIS WEED”

Big thick black cars surround Ryoko’s tiny vehicle as they all drive in unison to the drop point.

No fucking around here. The weed must be delivered.

The weed? Secured as shit.

“its not fucking weed it’s a goddamned french sword okay god”

“ROAD’S LOOKIN’ A-OKAY FOR OUR WEEEED DRIIIIIIVE”

PSYCHE, NO IT AINT. ROAD’S CRACKING UP HARD. COMES APART, CAR FUCKING EXPLODES!

“oh my god we seriously arent fucking around here those guys are fucking dead”

“bruh you never delivered weed before? that shit happens all the time”

“anyway grab on to something ‘cause we’re gonna initial d this shit”

“i thought we were delivering WEED not SUSHI”

“WEED... SUSHI... IT’S ALL FUCKING METAPHORS, HIBIKI. AND WE’RE GONNA DELIVER EM!”

“now ORDER UP, MOTHERFUCKER”

Every car is destroyed.

Ryoko flips the car like nobody’s business.

“ryoko! the kansai drift was too strong!”

“your delivery’s late, pal. that’s gonna have to come out of your tip.”

“jokes on you! you already paid the tip beforehand online!”

“oh, we’re going with pizza jokes now? is that what we’re doing? yeah, sure, whatever”

Unfortunately, Chris ordered her pizza with meat, extra crispy.

“FUCK, i cant see anything. now i don’t know if they have the weed- i mean, the sushi- er, the pizza- god i hate all these JOKES”

RYOKO SUMMONS A FUCKING SHIELD OUTTA NOWHERE WHILE HIBIKI’S KNOCKED OUT COLD

“yo hol’ up a moment did this pervert manage to summon a shield”

“are- are you able to fight the noise? are you fucking kidding me? this entire time when literal children were fighting these battles, you literally could have fought back effectively? are we but mere playthings to you? is this really the bullshit im seeing?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i can only make shields. piss shields, out of piss”

“that is absolute fucking bullshit”

“but i believe it.”

Hibiki has primed her fists and is about to show how much she’s improved combat wise, which is actually a lot.

Nevermind, she tripped again. Turns out, Symphogears fight in heels constantly, which is absolutely fucking horrifying. Hibiki realizes this, and then

FUCKING BREAKS THE HEELS LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS.

AND THEN SHE WRECKS SHOP WITHOUT BREAKING A GODDAMN SWEAT

“oh shit how the fuck did she improve this quickly”

The suitcase where the sword is stored opens up. That means it’s activating.

Immediate fear.

“alright bruce lee you mightve mastered a thousand kicks but you better change your gameplan because im about to realign that pretty little face of yours”

“thank god you kicked me. needed you to get closer so i could kick your ass, after all”

The fucking suitcase, I shit you not, pops open immediately with the sword flipping to the sky like a bad Gmod toy as it suddenly stays floating, perfectly still.

“ive officially lost track on what the hell is happening”

The sword just floats there, as a sword does.

“you know how many fried turkeys i can cut open with that bad boy? that shits mine now.”

Chris goes to get it.

“fuck you! im going to slice HONEYBAKED HAMS with that sword!”

Hibiki intercepts it and takes the sword.

Now Hibiki becomes a proud Stand owner, having acquired the power of The World and stopping time at will.

“oooooh holy shit”

Hibiki, now channeling the power of Durandal, feels the raw strength of a completed relic all through her body.

Real spicy stuff running through her veins.

The power unleashing itself into a raw stream of piss skyrocketing into the stratosphere.

“the pizza has been delivered... all according to plan...”

“...she was right. honeybaked ham was the superior meat to slice...”

Hibiki is channeling a power source so ancient, so powerful, that through using her as a conduit, the sword actually finishes itself into its full, completed form.

Holy shit, Hibiki.

Goddamn. That’s a really sexy sword, actually! Pretty nice...

...oh.

You’re not looking so hot, pal...

“why is it that every opponent of mine can literally asspull all this garbage and im stuck here looking like a bad kamen rider villian getting my ass kicked every time. its not fair.”

Ryoko looks extremely hyped for this event. Maybe a little too much so.

“MAN FUCK THIS NONSENSE IM PUTTING AN END TO THE SUPER SENTAI POWERUP”

“O-OH FUCK- uh, i didnt say that. totally swear. you uh, keep doing that. yeah. aha.”

“SLICED...”

“...HONEYBAKED...”

“oh god. oh god. im sorry. im sorry. im so sorry. oh fuck im so sorry. honeybaked ham is better. fuck turkeys. fuck drumlegs. fuck any sort of fried meat. honeybaked ham is better please im begging you dont vore me or slice me in half IM BEGGING YOU OH GOD”

“...HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”

“ham..... mmmmm... honeybaked ham....”

“WHO YELLED ABOUT HAM? god, im hungry now.”

Hibiki wakes up from it all after passing out, expressing a power of magnitudes unheard of, as if it were all a bad dream.

“YEAH THATS RIGHT WE HAD TO DELIVER THE WEED PIZZA AND I WANTED HAM AND- THE SWORD, YEAH! THE SWORD!”

To her disappointment, amongst this wanton destruction, no ham was found. Ryoko clues her in that Hibiki just single handedly completed a relic, and though the entire place is a mess, the mission wasn’t a complete failure. They’ll just have to return the relic back to base, now the entire location is, conveniently, destroyed.

“yeah yeah. the weed made it. the sushi made it. the pizza made it. what didnt we deliver today?”

“...”

“singing really does make you hungry, huh?”

[thelastspeecher]

7. Spooky stories in the mergucket au also sounds really good, like Stan could be telling his kids of stories of his and Fords adventures on distant seas when they were on the ship (exaggerated probably), and then Ford coming by and being like "yeah, he actually punched a giant squid in the face"

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

7. Spooky stories

Ehhhh this didn’t turn out like I wanted to, but I’m not used to writing spooky stories, even if it’s someone else telling a spooky story.  But here, have a write that ended up way longer than I planned on making it.

Word count: 1841

Send me a number for a fall-themed prompt!

              Stanrelaxed in the reclining chair he had stolen from a sunken ship, his eyesclosed.

              “Daddy,are you sleeping?” a voice asked.  Stanopened his eyes.  The youngest of hischildren, five-year-old Emmett, tread water in front of him.  A few green scales fell off his tail as helooked at Stan expectantly.

              “Nope.”  Stan sat up straight.  “What’s goin’ on, sport?”

              “I’mitchy.”

              “Yeah.  That’s what happens when your permanentscales start comin’ in.”  Stan patted hislap.  Emmett eagerly took a seat andnestled against Stan’s torso.  “I can’treally do anything about it, y’know.”

              “Yeah.”  Emmett scratched his tail.  A single scale flaked off, revealing tealunderneath.  “Itches, though.”

              “I know,buddy.”  Stan ruffled his son’s hair,thinking.  “Hey, how about I distract youwith a story, huh?  You’ll forget allabout the itching.”

              “Thatsounds nice,” Emmett mumbled.  His eyeswidened.  “Ooh, can you tell one fromwhen you were human?”

              “A humanone?  You sure?”

              “Yeah!”

              “Okay.  Lemme think one up.”

              “Nomaking it up,” Emmett instructed.  Stan gaspedin faux offense.

              “Make oneup?  My own son, accuse me of making thingsup?” he said in a scandalized tone.

              “Ma says halfthe stories you tell us are fake.”

              “What?  Well, she’s lying.”

              “No, I’mnot,” a voice said.  Stan and Emmettlooked up.  Angie had entered the room atsome point.  She leaned against the wall,watching her mate and son with a small smile. “Yer a showman, is all.  You haveto exaggerate stories so that they sound more interestin’ than they actuallywere.  Which, in my opinion, ispointless.  You’ve lived a rich, fulllife, darlin’.  You have plenty of excitin’truthful stories you can tell.”  Angietilted her head.  “You fought a lot ofmonsters back when you were human.  Maybeone of those stories?”  Stan paused tothink.  He nodded.

              “Okay, Igot one.  Emmett, do you wanna hear aboutthe kraken that I beat off, back before I had even started dating your ma?”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “No, notthat one,” she hissed.  Emmett grinned.

              “Yeah!  I wanna hear it!” he chirped.  Angie sighed.

              “Great.”

              “Hear what?”Daisy asked, swimming into the room.

              “Dad’sgonna tell a story from when he was human!” Emmett said eagerly.  Daisy’s jaw dropped open.

              “What?  Dad, you were gonna tell Emmett a humanstory?”

              “Uh,yeah.  He wants somethin’ to distracthimself from losing his guppy scales.”

              “But youweren’t gonna let the rest of us know?” Daisy scolded.  “I know fer a fact that Molly would wannahear a human story.”

              “I mean,if anyone else wants to hear, I guess they can,” Stan said.  Daisy promptly darted off, shouting for hersiblings.  Angie shook her head.

              “Yertellin’ the kraken story to all our guppies?”

              “You’rejust upset ‘cause you don’t get to save the day in that story,” Stan said.  Angie rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

              “If yasay so.”  Angie took a seat on the rockingchair.  Three brightly colored streaks zippedinto the living room.  “Hello, girls.”

              “Hi, Ma,”Danny said obediently, sitting on the floor in front of Stan with herclutchmates, Daisy and Molly.  Angielooked around.

              “Where’syer lil brother?”

              “Rightthere,” Daisy said, pointing at Emmett sitting in Stan’s lap.  Angie scowled.

              “Not thatbrother.  Yer other one.”

              “I’mright here!” Emory shouted, swimming over. Angie patted her lap.  Emory gladlysat there, panting slightly.  “They swimso fast.”

              “Yersisters are older than ya, sweetie,” Angie said softly.  She ran her fingers through Emory’s caramel-coloredcurls.  “And yer a bit of a slowpoke.”

              “I was sleepin’.”

              “Whenaren’t you?” Daisy said snidely.  Emoryglared at her.

              “Daisy,be nice,” Angie said.  She nodded at Stan.  “Go ahead, dear.”

              “Allright.”  Stan adjusted his seat slightly.  “So. Years and years and years ago, I was on the Stan O’War with your UncleFord.  Your Uncle Fidds was there, too,and so was your ma…”

—– 

              Fordpeered into Angie’s mouth.

              “It doeslook irritated,” he mumbled to himself.  “Butnot like, say strep throat.”

              “So-” Angiestarted.  Her voice cracked and fadedbefore she could say another word.  Shecrossed her arms, irritated.

              “Stoptalkin’,” Fiddleford scolded.  Angie blewa raspberry at him.  Fiddleford looked atFord in concern.  “Any idea what sort ofsickness might be causin’ this?”

              “Thereare a number of human illnesses that can cause laryngitis,” Ford said.  “Are you sure it’s not a mer disease?”

              “Positive.  Mers don’t lose their voice.  Ever.”

              “Maybe it’sa cold,” Stan suggested.  “I had one a coupleweeks ago, remember?”

              “A cold?”Fiddleford said slowly.  He looked atAngie.  “Angie, are ya cold?”  Angie shook her head.

              “No, it’s-”Stan started.  He sighed.  “Ford?”

              “It’s amild illness called the common cold,” Ford explained.  “We call it that because it becomes moreprevalent in colder weather.”

              “Ah.  Okay.”

              “It isone of the easier ways to lose your voice,” Ford said.  Angie huffed irritably.

              “How longwill she be stuck like this, do ya think?” Fiddleford asked.  Ford shrugged.

              “A fewdays to a week.”  Angie’s eyes boggled.

              “A week?”she mouthed silently.

              “Ya don’thave a cure fer it?” Fiddleford asked. Ford shook his head.

              “No.  One of the biggest struggles of modernmedicine is the search for a cure to the common cold, as a matter of fact.”  Angie groaned loudly and slumped in herchair.  “If it’s as dangerous as you sayfor a siren to lose their voice, maybe she should stay on board until she’sbetter.”  Angie straightened up again,her eyes narrowed.

              “I mean,to be fair, the best way to get better from a cold is to have soup,” Stansaid.  “And I don’t think you can havesoup underwater.”

              “Angie,are ya fine stayin’ on the ship fer a while?” Fiddleford asked.  Angie looked away, visibly frustrated.

              “Fine,”she managed, her voice creaking.  Shecoughed.  “Ugh.”

              “Yeah.  Having a cold sucks,” Stan saidcheerfully.  Angie scowled at him and madea gesture that, to merfolk, was presumably incredibly rude.

—– 

              Five dayslater, Stan wandered into the galley, looking for a snack.  Angie was already there, digging through thefridge.

              “Hey,Angie,” Stan said.  Angie gruntedwordlessly.  “Looking for food?”

              “Why elsewould-”  Angie’s voice cut off.  She groaned.

              “Why elsewould you be in the fridge?” Stan finished. Angie nodded.  “Good point.”  Angie closed the fridge forecefully.  “None of those seaweed things you like?”  Angie shook her head.  “Yeah, I think Fiddlesticks ate the last one.”  Angie scowled.  She stormed out of the galley.  “If you’re gonna kick his ass, wait until Igrabbed some popcorn!” Stan called after her. A sudden, vicious shudder ran through the ship.  Stan grabbed the wall in an attempt to steadyhimself.  “What the hell?”

              “Stan,get out here!” Ford shouted from the deck. Stan rushed out of the galley.  Hestared at the monster looming over the ship. It looked similar to an enormous squid, dark red, covered in large bumpsresembling warts.  Its large yellow eyeswere full of menace.

              “What thefuck is that?” Stan asked.

              “A kr-”Fiddleford started.  His voice gaveout.  He glared at the monster like itwas personally responsible for him catching Angie’s cold.  “Kr-”

              “Kraken,”Ford finished.  “Under normalcircumstances, this would be no problem. From what Fiddleford has told me, sirens regularly sing krakens awayfrom colony boundaries.  It’s veryeasy.  But given that both of sirens onboard are effectively mute…”

              “It is aproblem.  Got it.”  There was a loud crash from belowdeck.  Fiddleford froze, his eyes wide with panic.

              “Angie!”he croaked.

              “Angie wentto her room?” Stan asked.  Fiddlefordnodded.  “I’ll go get her.”  Stan rushed belowdeck, following the distinctivesound of splintering wood to the storage space Angie had taken over while shestayed on board.  He reached for the doorhandle.  The door abruptly came off itshinges.  Stan stared.

              Angiehissed as she used a large piece of wood to beat off a large tentacle.  With yet another loud crash, a secondtentacle burst through the side of the ship, wrapping itself around Angie.  Her eyes widened in terror.  She opened her mouth to scream, but no soundcame out.  The tentacle began to pullAngie through the hole it had punched in the side of the ship.

              “Shit!”Stan yelled, suddenly realizing he had just been standing still, watching Angiefight off a vicious sea monster on her own. He looked around for a weapon and spotted a knife.  “I’m coming, Angie!”  Stan picked up the knife.

              “Gkk!”Angie choked out, pointing at the suckers on the underside of the tentacle grabbingher.

              “On it!”  Stan stabbed one of the suckers.  A stream of green blood poured from thesingle wound.  The kraken released Angie,retracting its tentacles in pain.  Stan helpedAngie up.  “Why the hell didn’t you use aknife if you had one?”  Angie scowled athim.

              “Did-thnk f-” she managed.  She stomped herfoot irritably.  “Sng!”

              “You…didn’tthink of it because you usually sing?” Stan tried.  Angie nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”  Stanlooked down at his feet.  Water was enteringthe room through the holes the kraken had made. It was already ankle-deep.  “Weshould probably get outta here before we drown.”  Angie snorted.  “Fine. Before I drown.  C’mon.” Stan dragged Angie back to the deck. “Oh, fuck.”  Fiddleford and Fordwere nowhere to be found.  Stan lookedaround, dread building.  Out of thecorner of his eye, he saw something large and dark red approach.  He braced himself for impact-

—– 

              “And thenI-”

              “Dad?” Dannyinterrupted.  Stan looked at her.

              “Yeah?”

              “Emmett’sasleep.”

              “What?”  Stan looked down.  Sure enough, Emmett was snoring softly, curledup in his lap.  “Aw, man.  And I was just getting to the good part.”

              “Why don’tyou finish your story?” Molly asked.  Sheleaned forward eagerly.  “It was getting reallygood.”

              “Nah, Emmettasked for the story.  I’ll wait until hewakes up to finish.”

              “But-”

              “Thatsounds like a good plan to me,” Angie interjected.  “I think you have some homework to doanyways, girls.”  Molly, Danny, and Daisygot up reluctantly, grumbling.  Afterthey had left, Angie looked over at Stan. “Emmett fell asleep right during the scary part.  I hope he don’t get nightmares or somethin’.”

              “It’s nota scary story, though.”

              “To aguppy, it is.  Remember what the girlswere like when they first hatched?  Afraidof their own shadows.”

              “Oh,yeah.”  Stan idly stroked Emmett.  “That’s why you didn’t want me to tell thatstory?”

              “Part ofthe reason.”  Angie grinnedcrookedly.  “The other part is that I wasa real doofus durin’ that whole thing.  Imean, I literally had a knife in my room, but I was fightin’ off a kraken witha piece of wood?”

              “Yeah,that was a dumb thing to do,” Stan agreed. Angie chuckled.  “Good thing I wasaround to punch it and save the day.”

              “Obviously.”

[rkmodelseries-archived]

CyberLife: Becoming Deviant

{Author Notes: Chapter Three of the continuing story, CyberLife: Becoming Deviant. I hope you all enjoy!}

{Warning: Swearing, mainly.}

Chapter Three

Small fingers brushed over the petals of a raven-colored rose in a delicate manner. The petals were damp with dew droplets, and the thorns that resided on the stem of the rose were definitely prickly. The flower appeared healthy enough, to say the least. It was obviously tended to on a regular basis.

Suddenly, the flower was plucked away from where it had been growing from. The flower was slowly lifted upwards to the face of a person.. The person swayed the rose from side to side underneath their nose as if to get a hint of the rose’s pleasant aroma.

“You’ve disappointed me, Connor..” The.. familiar (?) voice remarked in a disgruntled tone, their focus unwavering from the rose. “.. You’ve failed.” The person resumed with their judgemental statements.

The person finally turned around to reveal themselves to the android that they had been addressing. The person that had been speaking was none other than..

“A–.. Amanda???” Connor inquired, his eyebrows rose upwards in a quickened jerk. He was definitely.. troubled by what was happening right now.

“You’ve failed me and you’ve failed CyberLife. And ultimately, you’ve failed.. your model.” Amanda commenced, disregarding Connor’s current confusion.

With the rose still settled in her hand, Amanda gracefully strolled towards Connor while she spoke so freely against him. Her face showed impassiveness, yet with a hint of.. irritation.

“.. Return to CyberLife, Connor. You know that deep within your programming that you need to be disassembled. You’re aiding the problem.. by disobeying me.” Amanda added as one of her eyebrows rose to display an expression of skepticism.

“.. I.. N-No…. No, …Amanda.” The android responded, his eyes searching to look in any direction but Amanda’s eyes. He couldn’t even bare to face her after uttering the word “No” to her.

By now, Amanda’s facial appearance showed nothing more than vexation. It was no reason for her to hide her anger towards him.

“Connor, your disobedience towards me will be nothing but detrimental to you.. And that’s something that I can promise to you.” She continued, still refusing to back down from her constant scolding. With being just a few feet away from him now, Amanda looked up to Connor with ill-intent in her eyes.

“… This rose, it’s free from the its bushel. It’s.. unlimited on where it can be, now.” The older woman commenced as she rose the flower up to be right in front of the android’s face.  "But, it is.. unaware that.. it is broken from its life support. Without intervention, this healthy rose.. will eventually wither away… You’ll be just like this rose, Connor.“

"You’ll have.. nothing.” Amanda added in a soft, yet firm tone. “You’ll be.. nothing. You’ll–”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“That is just– That is GARBAGE, Captain!– I don’t want to be on the field with this– machine!” You complained with your hands placed firmly down on Captain Fowler’s desk. The expression on your face showed disbelief and disgust. The captain was ordering you to do something you just didn’t want to do.

“Detective, I’m going to need you to work with me here– Stop making this more difficult than it HAS to be! The amount of crimes in this city is growing and I can’t be worried with your damn petty reasons! I am only doing my job, and I need you to do yours!” Captain Fowler yelled back towards you.

“Okay, okay, okay– Please… PLEASE, give me REAL PERSON to work with. I already have a computer to follow me around, and it’s my cellphone– I–!” You resumed, trying to do anything you can to stop from having THAT thing stick around with you.

“Detective [Your/Last/Name], that’s enough! Now, I don’t want to hear any more of your damn complaints! The commissioner says that it doesn’t matter if there is no evidence of a deviant being a suspect or not in a homicide! Until the suspect is caught, the possibility of all homicides having the involvement of a deviant is high– That means all homicide cases WILL, whether you like it or not, have CyberLife’s appointed android working on them.” The captain explained, slowly getting tired of the whole ordeal you were making.

Placing your hands on your hips and gritting your top set of teeth down against your bottom lip, you started pacing back and forth in front of Captain Fowler’s desk. No matter what you said, the ruling was final: Lieutenant Anderson and his robot were permitted to be on the homicide cases.

Without even looking over to Hank or the android– who both had been in Captain Fowler’s office this entire time–, you gritted your teeth and shook your head a couple of times before storming off towards the door. Before the other three had a chance to say anything to you, you quickly marched out of the office.

“.. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” Hank said with a sigh coming from his mouth and shake of his head. He refused to argue with Captain Fowler on the situation this time; Homicide was HIS sector, anyways. “.. Alright, let’s get outta here and get ready to deal with.. whatever the hell she’s got going on.” The lieutenant said while looking over to his android partner.

However, Connor had been silent this entire time. ..There were even a couple of streams of tears.. traveling down his cheeks?

“Uh– Connor? What’s your problem– We– Wait… Are you.. crying?.. Geez, buddy. I know this is rough, but… Captain’s orders, y'know?” Hank stated, really thinking that Connor was showing negative emotions towards having to work with [Your/Name].

“No– I..” Connor began, having been surprised by Hank calling out his name. Of course, he wasn’t crying over having to be partnered up with [Your/Name]. It was something.. a little more serious than that. “..–Right. We’ve got work.. to do. I’m coming, Hank.” Connor added, his eyes rapidly blinking more than a few times. However, without any complaints, he followed Lieutenant Anderson out of the Captain’s office.

What exactly was happening to Connor? Amanda shouldn’t have.. been there. That was very unsettling to experience; Very intimidating..

By the time that Hank and Connor made it back to their desks, you were waiting on them with a sour look settled onto your face.

“I hope you keep that thing.. on a tight leash.” You said, your eyes fixated on the android that was standing right next to Hank. You honestly didn’t like the idea of “working with” androids. With the uprising of all the deviants, it just made it that much harder on accepting the idea of “working with” .. those things.

“You know what? For your damn information, Connor has done nothing but help this department�� He’s solved cases that none of us would have ever been able to crack– So, maybe you need to calm down? Jesus fuckin’ Christ– We’ll do our own thing, and you can do yours. Got it?” Lieutenant commented with a furrowing of his brow, actually sticking up for his partner against you.

“Yeah, well– Doing my own thing sounds damn good to me.” You responded to the lieutenant with your arms crossed over your chest. Eventually, your eyes shifted over to the brown-eyed android.

“And you?.. You stay the hell away from me, freak. Make sure to keep that order in your memory…” You demanded in response to your current annoyance. Without saying much of anything else, you turned around with a huff and a grunt. Not even sparing a farewell to Hank or Connor, you walked back across the room to where your desk was located.

“Tsk… Maybe you were right, Connor… Maybe this IS a reason for you to cry, huh?” Hank added, while looking over to the android who had been watching [Your/Name] walk off this entire time.

“Hellooooo? Earth to Connor? Anybody in there???” Lieutenant Hank called out, snapping his fingers in front of his partner’s face.

“She despises me, Hank.” Connor remarked bluntly, not even trying to skirt around with his wording.

“… Naaaahhh, c'mon. She doesn’t desp– Yeah, she probably does. But, who cares about her, y'know? This isn’t the first time someone has doubted you, Connor– I mean, just look at me. I was an asshole to you before, ..but I think we get along pretty damn good, now.” The lieutenant stated while sitting down in his chair and reaching into one of the containers on his desk to pull out a donut.

“..Y-Yeah.. We do… get along, don’t we?” Connor asked the rhetorical question, his attention finally turning away from looking at [Your/Name] only to turn to see Hank gnawing on that glazed donut. The image did cause a miniscule grin to emerge across Connor’s lips. At least there was something– or rather, someone– to make him smile.

{Tagging: @glitch-girl318}

Chapter Two

[star-anise]

Hiya! I have a question, and I think you might be one of the best people to ask. Do you think it's ok to work a job you know you are going to burn out on and need to leave eventually? Cause I I know if I follow the path I'm considering it will happen, but I also know I can help people in the meantime, but I'm conflicted. Thanks for all your time, and all the good you put into the world!

Since you’re asking me, I’m guessing that you mean working a social services job? Like, “I want to work for this community project, but I know that if I have to do it day in and day out for years on end I’ll burn out”? There are two answers to that–personal and ethical–and I’m guessing you mean ethical, like, “Is it okay not to dedicate My Entire Life and Soul to this cause???” but I’m gonna address the personal one first.

On a personal level, that’s dicey. If it’s a risk you’re going to take, you have to be really certain of your exit strategy. I know a lot of people in this field who kind of dream vaguely about strong boundaries–”Man, if that ever happened to me, I’d set him straight in no time”–but don’t seem to practice that thing in real life. Nothing ever passes their “bad enough” meter, so like the proverbial boiling frog, they never reach the point where they say, “This job is too shitty, I need to get out.” So a lot of them PLAN to get into a job for a short time–”I’ll do it for a while for the experience, then go before I burn out.”  But then they get too attached–stuck in a sick system, or with clients they’re really attached to, or the pay is too good, or they can’t abandon their coworkers, or whatever–and they’re actively miserable and so burned out they’re a little crispy, and they still won’t leave.

So, have an exit strategy. My observation is: being burned out and miserable in a job you feel like shit at? Especially an emotionally demanding social services job? Is an awful emotional place to job-hunt from. So many times I told myself, “I’ll leave when I have another job lined up,” but I was so burned out I had no energy to search for a new place and no self-confidence to market myself.  So it’s important to have a realistic and viable answer to the, “I need to get out… but what if I starve and die on the streets???” question. In our economy, a new job tends to be a blessing that falls from the sky, not a fruit you easily pluck off a tree.

Depending on your situation, that might mean knowing that you have a recurring mental illness and learning your area’s rules on disability unemployment benefits and how to apply for them, or saving up an emergency fund (even if it’s $10 a paycheque) to cushion your fall, or finding a second income stream (especially one you can keep going even if mentally ill) to fall back on. If you know going in that you’re going to have to leave, and possibly while on psychological fire, plan for it.

(May I suggest, given how poorly social services jobs tend to pay, Elizabeth Warren and Amelia Tiyagi’s All Your Worth as an excellent money-management book? My approach to money for years was, “Panic, try not to spend anything, inevitably fail, panic, lather rinse repeat.” So I was always staying way too long in really crappy jobs because I couldn’t save, and I felt like I had so little money, no advice ever applied to me. Meanwhile, that book is written by women who are not experts in wealth, they’re experts in bankruptcy; it helped me feel a lot calmer and more in control of my money, and less like a failure.)

Ethically? Oh yeah, people move in and out of difficult human services jobs all the fucking time. There are some lifers and that’s great, but there’s a huge degree of staff turnover. That’s just part of the system, fundamentally.

When you’re interviewing for jobs, it’s perfectly honest and sometimes appreciated to say, “I wanna do this job as long as I can, but if I burn out in a year or three, I’m outta here.”  You don’t have to promise to do the work forever. However, it’s a slightly better marketing trick to say, “I have a career path I want to follow, here it is.”  That way they know that in a year or two you might need to cut back your hours so you can go to school, and maybe after that you’ll want to move to a different job position, or move on. If you’re a good worker when that time comes and they want you to stay? They’ll probably find a way to keep you with the agency, but in a new role.  

On the other hand, most social services programs include more than one practicum so that you get a breadth of experience. It’s important to work short stints at some places just to get a sense of it. If you’re really worried about taking up resources they were going to invest in an employee they thought they’d keep way longer than you, but can’t get hired when you say that up front, look into time-limited internships or contracts.

It is an ethical imperative to get out when you’re done. Do not stick around after you’re burned out. If you’ve lost the ability to regulate yourself, meet your own needs, and have warm and beneficial relationships with the people you’re helping, all three at the same time, quit your fucking job. 

I just… I’m sorry, I know people are in tight financial circumstances, I’ve been there too, but this me drawing a line: Human services jobs require emotional labour. They demand that you treat the people you work with, both clients and colleagues, in a way that is respectful and kind. If you can’t do that, you cannot do your job. You need to get out before you become neglectful, apathetic, or abusive, because you are dealing with vulnerable people who often have way less social power than you. 

That’s… probably the opposite tack to the question you thought you’d get, isn’t it? 

[qitwrites]

happy birthday dearest @ryugazakkis ♥. here’s a small textfic from your precious oikuro college!au. Hope you have an amazing day ⌒°(❛ᴗ❛)°⌒

Kuroo: we’re out of eggs

Oikawa: and?

Kuroo: buy some

Kuroo: youre out loafing anyway

Oikawa: first of all, fuck u

Oikawa: secondly, im not loafing, im buying our face packs for this weeknd

Kuroo: ok, understandably important business

Kuroo: but Bo is craving my omu rice

Kuroo: and theres no eggs in the fridge

Oikawa: fyn. u both owe me.

Oikawa: i need to walk an extra 468m to reach the grocery place

Kuroo: do i want to knw y u have such an accurate measurement of the distance?

Oikawa: ……

Oikawa: i get bored easily

Kuroo: u need new hobbies

Oikawa: once again, fuc k you

~

Oikawa: <link attached>

Oikawa: <link attached>

Oikawa: <link attached>

Oikawa: <link attached>

Kuroo: wtf is this

Oikawa: proof

Kuroo: of wat?

Oikawa: the existence of aliens you imbecille

Kuroo: im sorry, but im still not a believer tofu

Oikawa: traitor

Oikawa: y r we frnds?

Kuroo: because u love meeeeee

Oikawa: -.-

~

Kuroo: tooru

Oikawa: hmm?

Kuroo: i miss home

Oikawa: we get a break in two weeks

Oikawa: hang in there

Oikawa: im out rn

Oikawa: ill bring the ice cream

Kuroo: youre the best

Oikawa: i know

Kuroo: asshole

Oikawa: theres my tetsu-chan

Kuroo: <3

~

Oikawa: it’s fascinating, really

Kuroo: wat is

Oikawa: the way my face twists when someone says ushiwaka within 100 feet of me

Oikawa: bo snapped a pic

Oikawa: <image>

Kuroo: meme worthy

Kuroo: truly

Oikawa: honestly

Oikawa: the man manages to make beauty lyk mine look stale

Kuroo: that’s to say

Kuroo: u have any beauty at all

Oikawa: pfff

Oikawa: tetsu-chan please

Oikawa: ur a lot of things

Oikawa: and i mean A LOT

Oikawa: but blind is not one of them

Kuroo: ass

Oikawa: i don’t see u disagreeing

Kuroo: …….

Oikawa:  (✿´ ꒳ ` )

~

Kuroo: wat do u wanna watch 2night

Oikawa: well

Oikawa: im kinda in the mood for horror

Kuroo: i was thinking the sameee

Kuroo: saw 2?

Oikawa: yaaasss

Kuroo: also pizza

Kuroo: hawaiian or pepperoni

Oikawa: pepperoni pleasee

Kuroo: done done

Oikawa: thanks :*

~

Kuroo: oikawa

Kuroo: oikawa come on

Kuroo: tooru

Oikawa: i don’t wanna talk rn

Kuroo: i know it sucks to be fighting with iwa

Kuroo: bt just calm down and think abt it from his perspective

Kuroo: and dnt ever forget

Kuroo: he loves u

Oikawa: ……

Oikawa: i know

Oikawa: i just need time

Kuroo: i know

~

Oikawa: dnt forget

Oikawa: we’re running tomorrow @ 5:30

Kuroo: i hate u

Kuroo: every single cell in my body

Kuroo: prays fr your untimely demise

Kuroo: is the sun even up that early

Oikawa: .______.

Oikawa: tat’s the point u idiot

Kuroo: i hate u

Oikawa: im aware

Oikawa: ill knock on ur door til u wake up

Oikawa: just saying

Kuroo: ur existence is sevearly regretted @ the moment

Oikawa: dnt be late darling

Oikawa: u can thank me later

Kuroo: go to hell

Kuroo: preferably before 5:30 in the morning

~

Oikawa: KUROO-MOTHERFUCKING-TETSUROU

Kuroo: yes dear?

Oikawa: will u

Oikawa: fr the love of all that is good and pure

Oikawa: stop changing my bg’s

Oikawa: to posivitely atrocious selfies of urself????

Oikawa: i had to show my prof something on my cell

Oikawa: and that picture just blares up at us

Oikawa: and ive never felt so horrifyingly embarrassed

Oikawa: his eyes Kuroo

Oikawa: he looked so betrayed

Oikawa: his hatred for me in that moment

Oikawa: could prob burn a hole through wood

Kuroo: brb

Kuroo: crying so har d rn

Kuroo: ur prof saw?

Kuroo: omggg

Kuroo: ◝( ′ㅂ`)و ̑̑

Oikawa: rot in the depths of tartarus

Kuroo: just as long as u wont be there

Oikawa: 🖕

~

Oikawa: kuroo

Kuroo: yeah

Oikawa: correct me if im wrong

Oikawa: bt did u just walk into class in your kitty pajama bottoms?

Kuroo: yeah

Oikawa: wit ur hair unbrushed

Kuroo: yeah

Oikawa: without shaving or even remotely grooming

Kuroo: yeah

Oikawa: zombie mode activated?

Kuroo: yeah

Oikawa: alrighty the n

Oikawa: ill get u coffee wen your class is done

Kuroo: blessed

Oikawa: monosyllabic bastard

~

Kuroo: u doing anything for the upcoming long weeknd?

Oikawa: i wanted to go home

Oikawa: bt my parents already planned a trip

Oikawa: so no

Kuroo: ok then youre coming

Oikawa: where

Kuroo: bo and i have planned a road trip

Kuroo: call iwa too

Oikawa: that sounds like fuuuun

Oikawa: o(≧∇≦o)

Kuroo: i know 

Kuroo: ρ(￣ﾍ￣ ﾒ)

Oikawa: iwa says yessss

Kuroo: awesome!

Kuroo: don’t forget sunscreen this time

Oikawa: it happened ONE TIME TETSU

Oikawa: let it go

Kuroo: u were pink for a week and half

Kuroo: im neve r letting that go

Oikawa: go fuck a trumpet

Kuroo: tempting

Kuroo: bt no thanks

Oikawa: y haven’t I blocked u yet jezuz

Kuroo: u keep asking urself that

~

Kuroo: <voice note>

Oikawa: from all that screaming and yelping

Oikawa: im assuming bo wants curry?

Kuroo: yas

Kuroo: me 2 actually

Oikawa: do we have any ingredients/

Kuroo: uhhh

Kuroo: i think a moth just flew outta the cupboard

Oikawa: ……

Kuroo: yeah ill go shopping

Oikawa: good idea

Oikawa: and take that hyper active eternally hungry puppy wid u

Kuroo: his name is bo

Oikawa: just goo

Oikawa: shooo

Kuroo: going going

~

Kuroo: sometimes i wish

Kuroo: the aliens had taken u

Kuroo: wen we offered u to them

Oikawa: same kuroo

Oikawa: same

Oikawa: (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Kuroo: wanna try again ?? ???

Oikawa: we’re too sober

Kuroo: not if i can help it

Oikawa: ill bring the tequila

Kuroo: i approve

~

Kuroo: Tooru

Kuroo: it’s not your fault

Kuroo: no matter what you or anyone else says or thinks

Kuroo: it’s not your fault

Oikawa: i am weak

Oikawa: so pathetically weak

Oikawa: coach should fucking bench me

Kuroo: open the door

Kuroo: I have wine, chocolates and bubblewrap

Oikawa: …..

Oikawa: I love you.

Kuroo: I love you too.

Kuroo: youre good enough

Kuroo: dont doubt that

~

Kuroo: daisho’s resemblance to reptiles

Kuroo: makes me truly believe in the existent of mutants

Oikawa: well, he’s certainly

Oikawa: whats the wor d

Oikawa: slimy

Kuroo: bo wants to strangle him for touching kei-chan

Oikawa: ill join him

Oikawa: my poor iwa-chan is suffering wid him 2

Kuroo: ugh

Kuroo: i hate him

Oikawa: i know

Kuroo: bleh

Oikawa: Netflix and cuddle?

Kuroo: Netflix and cuddle

~

Kuroo: <missed call>

Kuroo: <missed call>

Kuroo: <missed call>

Oikawa: wt actua l FUCK

Oikawa: its 3 AM

Oikawa: y u do this

Kuroo: i want tacos

Oikawa: ok just to put this in context

Oikawa: u have woken me at ass oclock in the morning

Oikawa: 2 get fucking tacos

Oikawa: hve i forgotten anything?

Kuroo: and churros!!!

Kuroo: im craving something sweeeet

Oikawa: im gonna kill u

Kuroo: yeah yeah no prob

Kuroo: see u in 5

Oikawa: …….

Oikawa: i want chocolate filled ones

Kuroo: attaboy

~

Oikawa: i think the four extra months ive spent on this planet

Oikawa: has given me this undeniably invaluable insight of the world

Oikawa: im sorry u cant ever experience this kurooo

Kuroo: that’s alright

Kuroo: i see things in a way diff from u

Oikawa: how so????

Kuroo: i mean

Kuroo: i am 3.4 entire cms taller

Kuroo: the view is simply breathtaking

Oikawa: ……

Oikawa: fuck u

Kuroo: ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)

~

Oikawa: hey

Oikawa: wen u free?

Kuroo: i got tomorrow evening off

Kuroo: what’s up?

Oikawa: i wanna work on that spike wid u

Oikawa: also blocking practice with bo

Kuroo: im game

Oikawa: good

Oikawa: we need cooler hand signs too

Kuroo: tots agree

Kuroo: we’ll brainstorm alright?

Oikawa: sounds like a plan

Oikawa: ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

~

Kuroo: code ET

Kuroo: i repeat

Kuroo: CODE ET

Kuroo: which means i am VERY sad

Oikawa: got it got it

Oikawa: ill meet u at the regular spot in 10

Oikawa: and ill bring bo

Kuroo: and my hoodie

Oikawa: and your hoodie

Kuroo: cookies and cream?

Oikawa: ye s plis

Oikawa: bo will have mint choco

Kuroo: got it

Kuroo: come fastly

Oikawa: almost there

~

Oikawa: just for 10 mins

Oikawa: ill only practice serves

Oikawa: i swea r

Kuroo: for the last time

Kuroo: NO

Kuroo: you are going to rest your knee till its better

Kuroo: even bo is mad this time

Kuroo: he wont let u on this court either

Oikawa: can i watch?

Kuroo: nope

Kuroo: focus on healin g

Kuroo: idiot

Oikawa: ……

Oikawa: im sorry

Kuroo: don’t be

Kuroo: we miss u too

~

Oikawa: i may not say this all the time

Oikawa: but your existence is appreciated Kuroo

Oikawa: thank u for coming into my life all those many years ago

Oikawa: and dealing with my stream of bullshit

Kuroo: likewise

Kuroo: <voice note>

Oikawa: pfff

Oikawa: tell bo I love him too

Kuroo: will do

Kuroo: oh bt w

Kuroo: Tooru?

Oikawa: yeah ?

Kuroo: i still don’t believe in aliens

Oikawa: F UCK YOU

Kuroo: I love you too

Kuroo: ♥♥

[intermission-trash]

Illuminator: Origins, Part 1

Happy Self-Insert January!!

Okay, so. It started out as a pretty normal day. Maybe even good. At least, as good as any day involving high school can be, amirite? 

Ha.

But anyway. I had woken up early, put on an outfit that, while not exactly nice, was at least not the same sweatpants and hoodie I’d worn for the rest of the week. And if it wasn’t the greatest outfit in the world, it had my leather jacket. My leather jacket can literally take a no-spoon stained-sweatpants day and turn it into a ‘fuck the world but in a cool way’ grunge day. Plus it makes me look like three times gayer. 

So I zoned my way through most of school, had a passable time at Fuckboy Central , a.k.a. animation class, and as a bonus, my mom even picked me up from school so I didn’t have to slog home through knee-high snow in tights and a short skirt. 

Of course, before we went home, we stopped at the Arc first.

The Arc is this big old thrift store run by a local charity. It’s got tons of stuff that I could just spend hours looking at, rooting through old bins, touching old clothes and just generally having a good, stimmy time. One time this lady even brought her little Pomeranian into the store. I got to pet him.

On this particular day, there was no dog, the dress aisle was taken up by this judgy older woman who watched me rummaging through the dresses like I was going to shove one under my shirt and take off, and there were no cute teacups. I mean, there usually aren’t, but I’m still hoping that one day I’ll find the cutest little teacup and saucer with the curliest handle and the most floral pattern that I can get and feel like a princess drinking from.

I did find something princessy, but it wasn’t a teacup.

It was a pencil.

A really cute pencil.

You know, I’m not actually sure if I’d have done anything differently if I’d known. I mean, I might have chickened out and not even bought it, but then again I might also have done it anyway. I mean, a little forewarning might have been nice, I guess. Like ‘hey, just a heads-up, using this pencil for any creative pursuits will change your life forever! Make sure you grab some snacks and a change of clothes just in case!’ type of deal.

But anyway.

It was in a big bowl of other (mostly broken) writing utensils that was labeled ‘50c’. As luck would have it, I had two quarters in my jacket pocket. 

I went up, bought it at the register and spent the rest of the time poking around the toy section. 

See, turns out it still had lead in it, and I was super excited to draw with it. My aunt gave me a similar pencil once, except it was pink and had a heart dangling off instead of a little rainbow droplet or whatever the charm is supposed to be. And for something that was designed for aesthetics rather than sturdiness, it sketched really well. Maybe it was because the lead size was literally the smallest they made commercially, or something. But I must’ve  lost it, ‘cause I definitely don’t have it now.

Anyway, this pencil was almost identical in model to the one from my aunt, plus it was adorable, and using adorable things for everyday tasks make them, like, 70% more fun. This is true science facts.

So younger me sat down on her messy bed, excited to start drawing with this cute pencil, having no idea what lay in store for her as soon as she touched the lead to the paper.

There I am, see? Look how adorable and naive I was, all sittin’ criss-cross applesauce with ill-proportioned arms. 

Wow, I’m waxing pretty nostalgic about this, seeing as how it was only, like, a week ago.

But anyway. I opened my sketchbook to a blank page, put the tip of the pencil down-

And that’s when it happened. 

My sketchbook blasted a goddamn ray of light right in my face, like it was an outdated meme. Then it jumped out of my hands, still firing it’s lazars, and what felt like a sudden hurricane started tearing up my room.

It was almost exactly like that time I paid two dollars to stand in a tornado simulator booth at a science museum, except my room was the booth. And safety was obviously not the first priority of the manufacturers. 

My stuff went flying everywhere- my books, my plants, my stuffed animals, you name it, it was definitely in the air. I got hit in the face by my own dirty laundry. In hindsight, I honestly don’t know why I didn’t just nope the fuck outta Dodge. But then again, when you get randomly dropped in the middle of a movie scene, see how cool you act when faced by a charging dragon or the edge of a waterfall or something.

And then, of course, my own sketchbook sucked me in.

I mean, as soon as I mentioned the sketchbook you all probably expected that. The ‘getting sucked in by a book’ trope is super cliche, right? Well, you know, when you’re there in the moment, just trying to doodle a few dynamic poses as a destresser from the purgatory we all call the public education system, the next thing on your to-do list is ‘go get a nice cup of tea’, NOT ‘get vored by my own damn sketchbook’. I mean, to me it did NOT seem like a portal to a magical world of wonder- it seemed like my sketchbook had turned on me and was now attempting to consume me to get revenge on... like... using it as a sketchbook or something. 

I wasn’t actually thinking that coherently at the moment, but I drew a helpful diagram to show you what my general thought process was.

I remember, like, a confusing swirl of colors, kind of like the boat scene in ‘Willy Wonka’, and then I was falling from the sky.

Yep.

I didn’t actually register what had happened for a second. My glasses slid off my face and just, like, spiraled away into the sky, like they were fulfilling their helicopter dreams. 

Then, of course, I started screaming.

It wasn’t even, like cool screaming. This was full-on ‘holy shit I’m about to die’ no-room-for-rational-thought-over-the-pure-primal-panic, tears and snot and spit everywhere you don’t even realize you were doing it at first screaming. I think the only other time I might have ever screamed like that was when I was being born.

Eventually my lips were definitely bleeding and my throat felt like a knife, but I just couldn’t stop. I could barely even hear myself screaming over the wind rushing by me.

It actually took me a couple of seconds to realize that I had stopped falling. I stopped screaming and squinted around. Someone had somehow caught me in their arms without the impact breaking my or their bones, but we also didn’t seem to be on the ground, either. They were holding me like I was a very large, leggy baby. They said something, but my head was pounding and I couldn’t make it out.

My glasses fell into my lap like ‘oh hey man, the helicopter thing didn’t work out, can I still crash on your face?’ 

The next thing I did after being rescued from being a lesbian pancake on the pavement was throw up on my savior and immediately pass out.

     *************************************************************************************

When I woke up, I was lying on a park bench with my head on something soft and furry. I didn’t open my eyes right away- first I had to check if I was, indeed, still alive. I was, but I kind of felt like it would have been better if I wasn’t. My lips hurt, my throat now felt like sandpaper, which I guess was an improvement from a knife, and my body ached.

The next thing I noticed were the voices whispering around me. They seemed to belong to several kids and at least two adults, both masculine-sounding. 

“But where do you think she came from?” one of the voices, feminine-sounding, said in a stage whisper.

“I don’t know!” the first adult voice said in an accent, sounding bewildered. “She just fell-” here he imitated a whooshing sound- “right past my airship. It was really lucky I got to her in time with the glider...”

“I hope she’s gonna be okay,” the child’s voice said worriedly. “She’s so pretty!”

The other adult voice snorted. “Pretty? She just looks like a mess to me.”

“HEY!” the child’s voice insisted. “That’s not nice, Robbie! She just fell from the sky!”

Another child snorted with laughter. “Ha! Yeah, I’ve seen you look worse after just falling from a tree.”

“It- it was a very TALL tree!” the second adult protested. “And I didn’t say I didn’t like her. Anyone who pukes on Sportaflop is okay in my book.”

Someone approached. “Do you think she’s dead?” another child asked, in a rather nasally voice. 

“She’s not dead,” another child said exasperatedly. “She’s breathing, see?”

“Yeah, but she could be brain-dead,” the nasally child objected. “Like a vegetable.”

“Huh?” the second adult voice asked suspiciously. “Vegetables? Where?”

“No, not that kind of vegetable, Robbie,” the nasally voice scolded. “I mean like... in a coma.” They paused. “If she is, can I have her glasses?”

“She’s not in a coma, either,” the other child said. I could hear some electronic beeping. “All vital signs and brain activity are normal. I think maybe she just passed out from the stress and the g-forces or something.”

A rather sticky finger poked my cheek. “Hello?” another child said right in my ear. “Hey, can you hear me, pretty sleeping lady, huh?”

I waved the finger away and sat up, grimacing. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” I said hurriedly. I felt like the next course of action would be to get one of them to kiss me to see if I was under a spell. 

I opened my eyes cautiously and immediately regretted that decision. The sunlight streamed right into my face, and I hissed between my teeth, holding a hand up to shade my eyes.

“Hey!” the child who said I wasn’t dead said excitedly. “Look, she’s awake!”

“We can see that,” the second adult voice said haughtily, but was drowned out by a chorus of excited exclamations from the other children. They all swarmed me at once, tugging on my clothes and yelling. 

“Hey lady, where’d you come from?”

“Why’d you fall from the sky, huh? Huh? Are you a superhero like Sportacus?”

“Can I have your glasses?”

“Are you an alien?”

“No, she’s not an ALIEN! She’s obviously from the FUTURE!”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” I said hurriedly, putting my hands up. “Get off, get off-- it’s too early for this, okay?”

“But it’s two in the afternoon,” one of the kids pointed out. 

“She means she just woke up,” another one said. 

I went to push up my glasses, but ended up tapping the bridge of my nose sadly. “Aw, crap,” I groaned. “Hey, has anyone seen a pair of--”

“Are these your glasses?” the first child’s voice asked. A pink, indistinct shape offered something to me, and I took them. Sure enough, they were my glasses.

Pushing them onto my face, I shook my head and looked up. “Thanks,” I said. “Uh, where am--”

I stopped mid-sentence. There was really no point asking where I was. 

Unfortunately, I knew exactly where I was. Which was the problem. Because by all discernible laws of nature, I shouldn’t have been where I was.

The people in front of me, all laid out like a goddamn Renaissance painting, looked at me. 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” the girl who had given me my glasses asked. “Are you okay?”

I looked at them for a second. They were all familiar to me- from the kids to the two men, one very shirtless and clutching a trash bag, making awkward eye contact in the back.

YEET happy self-insert January

forgive the lowering in quality of my artwork as it keeps going, I was up til past 2 last night working on this and other things.

Stay tuned for next time, when I continue having panic attacks and cry a lot! Or don’t, if you don’t want to. I don’t know.

Bye.

[garbageivereleasedintothevoid]

01-17-19

Idk if I can do this. I'm so panicky. I feel like just going and killing myself right this instant. I feel so much all at once. My mind is absolutely racing. I forgot how awful this shit felt. I fucking crave death right now and I wish that was a goddamn exaggeration but it never has been and this is hell. My stream of consciousness is going WAAAAYYY faster than my fingers can type. In the span of fifteen fucking seconds I imagined a scenario where I went to the ER for suicidal ideation and they tried to make me go to cross pointe and I bolted and escaped. Why? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA AND I'M BREAKING

I feel like I'm a wind up toy that was wound up too tightly and just went for a while and then exploded. I just want to feel okay again. Fuck getting better. I just don't want this shit back.

Also Erin's mom is in the hospital and might have cancer because they found a tumor on her spine and she couldn't walk. SO THAT'S JUST FUCKING WONDERFUL. MY BEST FRIEND MIGHT LOSE THEIR FUCKING MOM WHILE I DRIVE OFF THE FUCKING DEEP END. HOW FUN! /S

Fr tho fuck this.

Don't think I told you this last time because I forgot but I had cut myself the night before our last appointment. I hate this. I fucking hate this so much. I just want to be normal or go away. I fucking hate myself so goddamn much. Why was I born a fuck up? Why am I such a drain on everyone? Why can't I just be like everyone else and not the freakish asshole piece of garbage that I am????

I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be born.

I hate myself. I hate me so much. Why can't I just be a normal person. Fuck everything.

I just called and cancelled that luzio appointment btw. I know I for sure won't be ready to deal with it next month so I'm not doing it. Maybe sometime in the future idk.

I'm a little calmer now. Idk. I feel like I'm just caged up rn. Maybe that's all of this or maybe that's because it's winter and I'm not going anywhere if I can help it idk. I just feel trapped. Trapped in a lot of different ways. Trapped in this apartment because I can't save up money to afford somewhere else. Trapped because if I didn't have Yoshi I legit would have gone to live in the woods already. And just rented motel rooms for the winter or stayed with friends. I 100% would have done that if not for him. I feel trapped in my own body and with my pain levels. And worst of all I feel trapped in my own mind. I'm having pretty much nonstop panic attacks for the past few days. It's fucking awful. I'm angry nonstop. I want to just be back to how things were again. Winter is always hard but comparative to how my summer was, this has been the worst winter since I moved out of my parents house.

This blog really is a chronicle of my descent into madness. My return, really. Fuck. Fuck this.

Maybe everyone would be better off if I just made them hate me and then I silently killed myself? Idk. That has always been my plan. Say some nasty baseless stuff and block them and tell them never to contact me again. Wait a few weeks and just do it. I'm pretty sure Sara would realize what was going on but she'd be unable to stop me. Sam would too but she has more freedom. She has a key to my house and no patient confidentiality to uphold.

I mostly just want to kill something/someone. Absolutely obliterate someone who makes me angry. Like physically beat the shit out of them. Not just call them horrible things and walk away. I want to personally remove Wally's face from his skull and pour bleach over it. I want to tie my father up and repeatedly push a scalding hot metal poker into his gut. And torment him psychologically with it. I want him to fucking suffer like he made me suffer. I want to fight Trevin one on one and pin him to the ground and bash his skull in.

I want to be an animal basically. I want to absolutely destroy my enemies. I feel like I'm a primal monster right now. I want to impale the severed heads of my enemies on a fence post as a warning to anyone who would try anything. A warning that lets them know I mean it. I want to kill and that's fucking terrifying.

I am not usually this blasé about taking the life of another. Normally I believe very much that I would feel remorse. Now... I'm not sure depending on who it was.

I'm frustrated because I'm pretty sure once you read this you'll probably want me to go inpatient but that's only gonna make things worse because they'll nonstop pressure me to start psych meds that won't do jackshit for me.

The "help" medical professionals always push on you is such a farce. I realize it's often like a liability thing but like fuck that. People with mental illness shouldn't be forced into a place where they're only gonna get treated either like a problem or like a baby who can't handle their own problems. Or both. I feel backed into a corner because you and Sara always want me to open up to y'all but like how do I do that without getting shoved into Brentwood or cross pointe??? Because the truth is a fucking liability and I feel like my freedom is being stripped from me every single time I do. At least with Sara, she knows me well enough to know when to back off. I get that you're trying but I can't open up if I tell you I want to die and that means you gotta get me sent back there.

People with mental illness aren't allowed free control of themselves. We aren't allowed to say no to being hospitalized. If I had cancer, I would be allowed to refuse treatment and die at home. But if I have suicidal ideation I'm forced into a place that makes it worse??? Fuck that and fuck anyone who supports that. This isn't just a me thing. I know people who won't go to therapy anymore because that happened to them and they're terrified of going back. They won't risk it. This shit kills more people than it could ever save. Also knowing you have to get naked in front of a nurse and a tech. How the fuck is that even legal??? The whole system is fucked up and therapists have to actively refuse to use parts of it in order to be able to actually help people without sending them into the pits of hell. They take all your shit and shove it in a locked box out of your reach so you can't use it. You're threatened with your insurance refusing to pay if you don't go to every single group and then what? Debt. Fuck that. So what do you do? Fake it. Fake your way out. Pretend your happy and they'll let you go. And for most people, that's easy as hell. We've been doing it our whole lives. I can't tell you how many times I faked my way outta cross pointe. Cross Pointe doesn't even try to care. They're like okay a happy label for you and have a nice life. Holy shit this post is long af.