#and i'm tired of people ignoring that when it's inconvenient for them

[icecoldslugs]

Man...made this post almost a month ago and the things I keep seeing on my dash are really making me lose hope. It just keeps happening.

Why is it that trans women of colour can't call out racism in the community without immediately being labeled as self hating and giving ammo to transmysoginists. Transmysoginists will find a way to weaponize anything against transfems no matter what, so does that mean black and brown trans women should stay quiet and not rock the boat when it comes to intracommunity racism? Because this really feels like what some of you want the way I see you post about things.

It's infuriatingly isolating finding out how white and US-centric online trans spaces are in the first place, and then seeing the few visible trans women of colour with genuine gripes with regards to racism in the community being ignored at best and ostracized at worst, the calls for solidarity really start feeling empty after that.

Like damn maybe there's more to it than being seen as "one of the good ones" or chasing tme people's approval when the criticisms aimed at the community are made by people you've continuously disregarded. Maybe those things are brought up as a desperate plea to look around yourself and realize you're in an insular community.

People outside the transfem community aren't supposed to point out the racism within it because they're clearly always acting in bad faith, and transfems of colour aren't allowed to point it out from within since they're obviously only looking to score point with the oppressor, then what's left to do? Like the message here is that it shouldn't be brought up at all and we should just pretend there isn't a problem, right?

Why is it that when your black and brown sisters vent out their frustration with the situation at hand your first reaction is getting defensive, what do you think they have to gain from pandering to radfems and transmysoginists (groups that have been historically well known for accepting trans women of colour with open arms), why are your concerns considered valid but theirs divisive and dangerous? Do you think trans women of colour don't desperately long for community as well? Do you think it doesn't hurt them to feel like an afterthought?

It's the casual dismissal and knee-jerk reaction that kills me, like what other message are we supposed to gather other than we're allowed to belong but only so long as we don't make our voices heard, that the cohesion of the group is more important than our concerns, no wonder we're keeping to ourselves and not mingling with the community at large when at the slightest sign of inconvenience you're fully willing to throw us under the bus.

I'm just so tired man.

Something very discouraging I keep seeing happen over and over again is how quick transfems of colour are thrown under the bus once they stop serving their purpose as a rethorical talking point. It really sucks witnessing supposedly leftist white transfems calling for solidarity between us but immediately turning around calling their brown sisters disruptive and self righteous when they rightfully point out something racist that was said.

I don't know it's just very alienating knowing brown trans women will be dropped and singled out as being pick me girls for transmisogynists the second they start talking about racism within the community. It's deeply frustrating.

[marshmellowtea]

I just saw that post asking if you can justify doing human experimentation on “bad” criminals and eughhhh. For a website that’s so ACAB heavy they sure will jump the gun to suggest torturing people if they’re bad enough. Some people really haven’t grown out of their squishing anthill phases

fucking honestly though 😭 people will pay lip service to hating cops/the prison system but once you bring up the fact that hey, the way we treat even genuinely guilty people who have done actually horrible things is cruel too and we shouldn't be allowed to do that, then suddenly everyone is all for the same fucked up system of crime and punishment they were claiming to be against. so many people just want an acceptable target for their cruelty without realizing that the cruelty is inherently bad in the first place, and it's so frustrating to see.

[artemis32]

Yandere Eli Jang?

Yandere Eli Jang I

He's so pretty, almost as pretty as Johan

Also we're going to ignore the fact that this has been sitting in my drafts for literally nearly a year - I said I was cleaning out my drafts and that's exactly what I'm doing

art's 21st birthday celebration masterlist

Lookism Masterlist

Firstly anon, you have wonderful taste, Eli is gorgeous. 

Secondly, yandere Eli Jang?? Big brain.

Right off the bat I can say that he definitely wouldn’t have met you when he first met Warren, Sally and the rest of Hostel. You would have come into his life at a later stage, when he first started at Jae Won high.

Like I said previously, you would have been part of the Baking department, meaning that the two of you would have met in somewhat unusual circumstances - unusual meaning it likely never should have happened.

The reason you first caught his attention was because you were extremely nice, but not just to him - to everyone. It was a refreshing change of pace to be completely honest. 

He was used to the girls in the Beauty department and other classes fawning over him and giving him special treatment just because they found him attractive. While he tried to remain kind to them, it irked him that they acted so superficially. He was certain that if he wasn’t as good-looking as he was, people would never treat him as well as they did.

When the two of you first interacted, he truly thought you were acting kindly just because of his looks, something that had caused him to act quite callously towards you in the moment. It could have been blamed on many things, namely his bad mood and lack of sleep, but all that would have been is a cheap excuse.

You weren’t really phased by his lack of decency towards you, quickly moving on and not sparing him a second glance.

He brushed it off in the moment, too preoccupied with other things to think about some small interaction for too long.

****

Two months later, he bumped into you again. Literally.

You were carrying a stack of boxes towards the baking department, walking briskly despite not being able to see where you were going. To be honest, the collision was all his fault - not that anyone said it wasn’t.

He’d been staring down at his phone, standing in the middle of the hallway while talking to the daycare about picking Yena up a bit later than usual. He had started walking while his attention was still on his phone. 

Exhaustion had a strange way of making people unaware.

Safe to say, his walk had been cut short. And your supplies had acted as collateral.

The two of you stood there for a moment, neither of you speaking, neither of you moving to clear up the mess of utensils and ingredients. Eli hardly dared to breathe. After all, it was all his fault. You had every right to be mad at him.

Only, you weren’t mad. 

You heaved a sigh, one deep and disappointed, before crouching down and picking up what you could, placing it gently into the boxes that remained intact. 

Eli remained frozen, staring down at you, waiting for the inevitable explosion of anger. Or perhaps he was waiting for you to turn sickly sweet - for you to tell him not so subtly that he owed you a favour - perhaps a date to make up for the inconvenience?

After what might have been ten minutes, you stood up, remaining boxes in hand, before turning to face him.

You seemed tired, but still gave him a small, tight smile.

“Sorry about that.”

Then you were gone.

His brain caught up a moment later as he stared down at the bits of flour and broken utensils that remained.

You apologised? Why?

Why did you apologise?

With a start, he realised that you had apologised to him.

By the time he realised what had happened, by the time his exhausted brain had caught up with him, you were long gone. 

****

As they say, third times the charm.

The third time Eli saw you, nothing went wrong. Everything went perfectly.

It was three weeks after he'd walked into you.

This time, he was prepared. Or rather, he was in a good mood.

He was out with Yena, taking her on a shopping trip for a new pair of shoes.

Meeting you, especially outside of school, could be chalked up to luck - that’s all it really was. There was no other way the two of you would cross paths, so there must have been a deity looking out for Eli, giving him this opportunity.

It was a few hours after lunch, and Eli had decided that he would treat himself and Yena to something sweet. After all, things were finally looking up, that in itself was cause enough for celebration.

Eli’s grades were improving, he’d finally found a job that paid him decently, Warren and Sally had come back into his life and they’d talked through all their past problems, and now he had more help taking care of Yena. 

Truly, he hadn’t felt this optimistic in a long time.

He decided to go to a bakery closer to home, not wanting to linger in such a busy area for longer than he had to.

That’s how he landed up in a small bakery about fifteen minutes away from his apartment. It was quaint, half hidden down a side alley. But for all its less than appealing characteristics, it was pretty nice inside. 

The lighting was soft and the interior smelt of coffee and cinnamon, and there was an assortment of mismatched chairs scattered throughout the cozy seating area.

His attention was split between listening to Yena’s adorable babbling and glossing over the menu, so much so that he nearly missed the barista calling him forward.

Stepping forward, eyes still on the menu, he greeted the person behind the counter, bobbing Yena on his hip.

“Can I get a minute to decide? There are so many options.” Eli said with a light laugh.

“Sure, take your time.”

Finally having made up his mind, he looked toward the barista who was waiting expectantly, and froze.

For weeks he’d mulled over ways to apologise when he finally saw you again, ways to ask why you had apologised when it was so clearly his fault. He’d thought up a multitude of excuses, reasons to explain away his bad mood and rude tone. He’d played through different scenarios of how exactly it would play out.

Except, now that he’s stood here, staring at you as you looked at him with such a blank stare, he had nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to do - absolutely nothing.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He ordered.

****

“Let me read it back to you just to clarify. One black coffee, two iced lattes, two iced Americanos, one kiddie sized hot chocolate, twelve croissants; six chocolate and six plain. Is that right?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

You nod before telling him his total and his waiting time.

He waited at a table in the corner with Yena.

Instead of worrying about what to say to you, he busied himself with his phone, aimlessly switching through the same three apps while he waited.

"Here you go," you say with a smile, one he feels he doesn't deserve.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, mind blank, wiped of every thought but your smile.

"...Huh? What for?"

....

You don't remember him.

"Oh, um, I bumped into you a while ago. At school, I mean. I just wanted to apologise."

You give him another one of your blinding, too-kind smiles, and wave him off.

"No, that's not a problem, don't even worry about it."

He stares at you, though you're distracted from the conversation a moment later.

"Oh, I have to go, but here," you say, handing him his order.

"I snuck in an extra cupcake for your sister," you whisper with a secretive wink.

Eli feels his throat constrict as he stares up at you.

"Sister-? Oh, no- um, Yena is my daughter."

You stand there for a moment before shrugging. "Well, either way, she's adorable."

Bidding him goodbye, you rush back to the counter to deal with the ever-growing line of customers.

Your utter lack of judgement had to be what solidified Eli's interest in you.

****

Eli sees you a lot after that. You think it's nothing more than a happy accident, but he knows that he goes out of his way to bump into you.

It's not easy, what with all those women constantly hanging around him. But he manages, catching you as you run between classes, or right after your shift at the bakery, or even as you enjoy a day off, strolling down the street, window shopping as you go.

Of course, seeing him so often, the two of you quickly develop a budding friendship, and he has no qualms about officially introducing you to his daughter, or Warren and Sally, or any of his other family in Hostel.

If you'd questioned it for a moment, you'd realise how convenient it was that you always bumped into him when you had no other obligations, nowhere to run off to. You'd also realise that it wasn't normal - the way your friendship with him progressed so quickly.

He's such a private person, no one knows as much about his personal life as you do.

But you don't question it, thankfully.

Yena loves you.

Understandable, since you bring her treats and gifts whenever you see her. You even overtake the Hostel kitchen on one occasion, consequently making the entire house smell like baked goods.

His entire family loves you after that. And why wouldn't they? You'd baked enough to feed a small army, and you'd presented it to them with a smile.

You truly do bring a sense of warmth to their home.

Which is why none of them question or argue with Eli's strange obsession with you. They understand. They do.

****

Eli makes sure that you become very selective with your time.

He doesn't quite force you to do anything, it's just that he has a certain air about him - one that makes you feel compelled to spend the majority of your time and attention on him.

Not that you mind - he's wonderful company, doting on you in the best ways possible. He's open with his affection, freely giving you his time and kind words.

He's big on PDA too, quick to grab your hand or sling his arm around your shoulder. If he thinks someone else is eyeing you, he'll wrap you up in a hug, gently kiss your cheeks and temples.

Sometimes he deludes himself into believing that you, Yena and himself are one big, happy family. It's a nice thought, one that warms his heart.

But despite all that, you're still slightly distant, not fully invested with any of them. Maybe it's because you know something is off. Or maybe it's because you're both teenagers and you see this as nothing more than a teenage romance.

Either way, he doesn't plan on letting you slip away.

He deserves peace, he deserves to be happy. He'll do whatever it takes to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself.

This is all for your own good.

Beating up creeps who try to follow you home, scaring off people in your class who get too comfortable around you, even forcing you to spend more time with him than you do with your friends or at work - it's all for your own benefit. You'll see that one day, whether that's tomorrow or twenty years in the future.

You'll thank him for his forethought, for how willing he is to get his hands dirty for you.

But don't worry, he won't ask for anything in return.

He does it because he loves you.

And he does love you. In his own twisted view of the world, he believes that what he feels for you is love.

It's self-destructive and it'll cause more problems than it solves, but Eli Jang would rather rip his heart out than lose anyone else, lose you.

If that isn't love, then he doesn't know what is.

[thatbadadvice]

Help! My Mother-In-Law Buys A New Outfit Every Time She Pours Jet Fuel on Chilean Sea Bass and Throws Their Carcasses, Flaming, Into the Rainforests from the Open Belly of Her Private Plane

Care and Feeding, Slate, 1 May 2023:

Dear Care and Feeding, My husband and I have two children (2 years and 6 months). We recently moved back to my husband’s hometown to pursue a career opportunity for me. My husband has been home with the kids but was just offered a job. We found a daycare, but it can only take the kids three days a week right now (we’re on waitlists for full-time, but it seems like it could be months or more before we find two full-time spots). My mother-in-law has generously offered to watch the kids for the other two days. Overall, she is a lovely, responsible woman, but we have some significant value differences around environmental issues and I’m not sure how to navigate them. Our household focuses heavily on environmental awareness. We drive electric cars, we compost, we limit our air conditioning, we limit our flying, we eat all leftovers, we avoid plastics whenever possible, and we buy exclusively secondhand clothing. My mother-in-law is a big fan of consumption. Her house is full of plastics. She throws away whatever is left on her plate at the end of a meal, she keeps her house so cold in the summer that I need a sweater and she drives a minivan. I’m concerned about the message it sends to the kids if we stick to our values, except when to do so would be inconvenient. How do I bridge our two very different lifestyles going forward? —Environmentalist Mama in Limbo

Dear Environmentalist Mama,

I'm not sure how you can describe a person who air-conditions her home and drives a minivan as "lovely" and "responsible" but I will assume that this planet-hating harpy has gripped you so tightly in her environmentally irresponsible talons that you cannot see the wildfire-ridden forest for the trees (which she is personally cutting down for fun and profit). Do not let yourself be hoodwinked by promises of familial love and generous offers of free child care, as if these things matter more than assiduously composting! This woman is a monster who is single-handedly destroying the only earth your precious babies have to live on. Imagine the tragedies that will unfold if your children experience a loving connection with a person who purchases items made of plastic? They could come to believe that other humans are whole people with their own interior lives and decision-making apparatuses and values instead of ugly nasty baddies who dare to oppose Mommy's One True And Only Way?

You simply cannot bridge two lifestyles as different as the two you describe here. On the one hand, we have your blameless and perfect eco-conscious little household of brave, Dumpster-diving Oliver Twists, and on the other hand, we have an ethically compromised, unscrupulous, indefensibly ignorant shitbird who probably barbecues her factory-farmed meats over asbestos tiles and flies to Australia to distribute the ashes over the Great Barrier Reef. If Planet Earth does not spin out into an apocalyptic ball of climate disaster by the time your children are old enough to be knifing their peers over tire fires for their share of rat rations, it will be because your uniquely virtuous family had the moral fortitude to drive an electric car and limit your flying. After all, electricity comes from magical climate-neutral fairies and the jet fuel industry is waiting with bated breath for the day that you ground your family and send an international behemoth into wholesale free-fall.

If there is one guaranteed way forward through the climate crisis, it is to silo ourselves into individual categories of "good people" who use paper straws (like you! you are so good!) and "amoral reprobates" (such as your mother-in-law, who sucks!) who do not. The very future of humanity depends on demonizing and shaming other people until they behave as we want them to, privileging individual actions over collective resistance to and accountability for the worst global offenders, and rejecting community-building opportunities in favor of being the only best good person ever.

Build no bridge with this woman! She would probably just drive over it with her minivan, and then the blood of billions will be on your hands.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

i shared something a few months ago about allergies and food disabilities and it recently started accumulating notes again and now it's at 5.7k, so obviously my activity page is just people trauma dumping about their awful experiences with allergies in the tags which is. Fun.

but what's really getting me is how i made a comment early on in the reblog chain about how many personal and professional activities revolve around food and how much it sucks to have to either put yourself at risk or miss out on those opportunities, because people often react badly either way if you cause them even the slightest inconvenience

and EVERYBODY who has responded to that comment. and I mean everybody. has focused on "personal" and made comments about how "if your friends don't respect your food disabilities, they're not your friends" and "you'll meet more supportive people in future" and all of that

and not one of them has paid any attention to the "professional" part of that. I'm talking about work Christmas dinners where if you don't go you're not a team player and will probably get passed over for future opportunities, but if you go, you'll get sick and HR will be mad about the extra time off. I'm talking about networking dinners and business lunches and meeting people at the buffet table at events, all of which are fraught if not impossible. I'm talking about travelling for conferences or other events and having to bring an entire extra bag with food because the venue can't cater for you (hand luggage only just ain't even an option at this point, so yay, extra costs if you're travelling further afield)

and also! smaller things like job interviews where you have to wear "smart" clothes (fitted waistbands and IBS? A Nightmare). dress codes in general. working in a building where the nearest toilets are on the opposite side. not being able to trust the work kettle/microwave because it might be contaminated but not having the facilities to bring/use your own. not being able to use communal tea/coffee/milk supplies for the same reason. all of those little everyday things

it isn't just about friends. it's about LIFE. i'm in an industry where events, lunches, etc are a common occurrence, and a nightmare for me. in academia, it feels like every other event involves a wine reception, which is shit when you don't drink and don't love being around people who are drinking a lot. in the office, i can't participate properly in any of the seasonal social gatherings, whether they're tea and biscuits or a Christmas meal

food disabilities have PROFESSIONAL impacts. because they are disabilities. it isn't just about having fun or hanging out with friends. it affects my career and my opportunities and it is INVISIBLE because people don't even know to recognise the ableism when they're doing it

i am tired of people ignoring that facet of it all

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for moving on from a relationship that literally just ended?

Context:

I (21) recently broke up with my partner (22) of 4 years. Recently being about a week ago. And I really want to move on but I'm worried about how that looks from the outside.

But the thing is... we broke up due to emotional neglect. After stringing me along for a year, after an incident last year brought these feelings that had already been slowly building to a head for the first time, (a year that I spent begging to be more than an afterthought in their life), they finally told me they just didn't want to be emotionally present, so I called it quits.

After a year of begging to be seen, feeling ignored, feeling alone even when with my partner, only ever mattering if I was being funny or crying, I feel like I'm justified in being over it even though we haven't technically been broken up for all that long. I've cried enough over it, I put my life on hold hoping they would do what they said they would, and now I'm frustrated and tired of being upset. I want to take steps to move on with my life, such as: working on myself, trying to process and let go of these feelings, remove them from my life, make new friends, and maybe even try to meet someone new when I feel ready.

But I'm worried about how that looks from the outside, especially without the context of how I was treated. I don't want people to think I'm as emotionless as them for moving on quickly (literally I could hear them laughing in the other room all night after we broke up, I'm not like that I just want to move on)

And the worst part is I still feel all this guilt despite knowing that while the breakup was utterly shattering to me, it was an inconvenience at best to them.

So... AITA for trying to move on?

What are these acronyms?

[yuesya]

yknow Twins!Suguru only seems normal when compared to Sato-Shiki. He's a SPECIAL-GRADE sorcerer, he's gotta have at least a dozen screws loose compared to a normal sorcerer, and we know what he does in canon. Does he ever get a chance to let loose, perhaps in response to an attack (emotional/physical/political/etc) on Sato-Shiki?

Oh for sure haha. The thing is, though -Suguru still thinks of himself as 'that one sane person.' He's not exactly wrong, except sorcerers in general are a pretty crazy lot. What do you expect out of a Special Grade, really?

I'm thinking... given how strong Satoru (and Shiki) is (are), people usually aren't suicidal enough to make any obvious moves against them. But there are probably lots smaller things that pile up -minor inconveniences, obstructions in processing documents, assigning way too many missions, etc.- and the only reason why they haven't keeled over from exhaustion is because they're two people working as one, and they cheat with reverse cursed technique. Anyone else in their position would've keeled over from exhaustion -or lowered their head and asked for the higher ups to lighten their mission load.

Suguru, having a front row view to all of this, smiles when Satoru receives yet another assignment. Reaches over, then promptly snatches the entire goddamned folder out of his friend's hands. It's a testament to how tired both of them are that he's able to do so with zero resistance whatsoever.

"Suguru...?" Satoru blinks at him, uncomprehending. "C'mon, give that back, I need to-"

"You," Both of you, "Are going to get a soda from the vending machine down the hallway, and sit down right here."

"Huh?"

Suguru ignores him. Instead, he flicks through the stack of papers... What the hell, it's not just a single assignment. It's a whole goddamned chain of back-to-back missions in a cluster of European countries. The twins just got back from trekking through the mountains in Hokkaido!

"Suguru, what-"

"Sit. Down." It's slightly gratifying when, after a beat of silence, Satoru heaves a dramatic sigh and sits down in the nearby chair. The tension in his frame does not disappear, but it... eases, slightly.

Good.

"I'm going to have a chat with the elders," Suguru informs the two of them. "Sit here, and stay until I'm back. It won't take long."

"I'm not a dog," Satoru says dryly, rolling his eyes. "... You don't have to make such a big deal out of this. It's only-"

"They've kept you busy nonstop for an entire month!"

Satoru shrugs, unconcerned. Even though he should be. "You know it doesn't really matter that much for us, Suguru."

Suguru clicks his tongue. "I disagree. You're not their tool, Satoru. Neither of you are."

I won't stand aside and watch this happen.

...

(Geto Suguru immediately requests an audience with the council. In the aftermath, Gojo Satoru's missions to Europe are temporarily put on hold.

No higher up present at the meeting ever discusses just what happened, exactly, but there are several members whose mysterious disappearances require new appointments to substitute for their vacant seats. No investigation is ever held.)

[androgynealienfemme]

"On a rare occasion, though, very rare indeed, I meet someone like hir, someone who feels to me like I feel most days: tired, overworked, overstimulated, under-appreciated, and still delighted with hir life and everyone in it, even the problems and the stresses. Someone who recognizes, as I do, that responsibility comes with work, that it comes with inconvenience, and who still is quietly delighted to serve those things about which ze care, even when the individual actions are difficult or unpleasant or merely inconvenient. Who appreciates that being responsible for things is a good and precious thing, that it's what makes us the people we are, that those offices of trust are what separates us. Someone who appears shameless to the world because the shame voices in hir head are so accomplished that other people's attempts to just seem crappy and amateur, like calling the fat kid Fatso, so easily ignored. Someone whose good nature has been taken advantage of for so long that ze is scared all the time, and yet is such an optimist that ze saddles up and keeps trying anyway. This is the guy-type-thing who is not just willing but pleased to give me a break from being the Big Dog for a little while. Ze is strong enough to hold everything I carry around with me for a few minutes so that I can put it down, and I can do the same for hir; when I do, ze is just as amazed as I sometimes am not to have to do all the work, for once.

We can't help but try to soothe each other, when we meet. It takes all kinds of forms, simple and so complex, but this one I'm talking about is the naked kind. It's such a reassuringly tangible thing, to keep the watch while someone who is constantly keeping tight control over hirself and everything around hir just lets go. We do it in a lot of other ways, try to ease each other, try to hold it all, but most of them are the talky ways that our butch hearts sometimes distrust, can't quite see as being real help; only a few are so stark against the weave of our experiences that they feel undeniably readable, incontrovertibly present and accounted for."

"Laying Down with a Butch” Butch is a Noun essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

[dmmdre-formatted]

First scene

"Hello, welcome to Delivery Works. Do you have a package you're expecting from us today?"

"Uh. umm... There's something I'd like to ask"

"Yes?"

I watched the man on the other side of the delivery counter nervously play with his hands.

"Would it be possible to ship allmate parts through the courier?"

"Yes, we'll ship them. We also supply the box for you for a small fee."

"Ah, is that right. I see. Thank you very much."

"Would you like to send something?"

"Ah, no. Um, well..."

"Yes?"

"Well, this may come off as very sudden, but..."

I look at him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"If you're okay with it, then... When you get off work today, could I meet up with you?"

"...What?"

"Ah, no, ummm, how should I say this, you see, your eyes. It's like, you have very beautiful eyes, I was thinking..."

A soft sigh I'm certain he didn't hear escapes my lips as I still try to offer him a polite smile.

"Thank you. I'm grateful to hear that. By the way, sir, I just remembered.. that will be all, right?"

"Ah... sure"

"If you're still interested we have a discount for shipping A parts that fall in a specific weight limit."

"It's a special discount for our loyal customers who ship regularly with us. Would you like your name added to the list?"

"Yes, um, but..."

"We can only do this for so many people, but if you plan to keep shipping through us I wouldn't mind putting you down now as I'm sure you'll make good use of it. I can do it as a special service for you"

"S-Service?"

"Yes... a service."

"A-ah, then by all means! I- I'd like to be added to your list!"

"Certainly. I'd need your personal data, if you could scan your coil here please."

He puts his coil up to the reader we have until the light turns green. I double check to make sure the information has been accepted properly.

"...Okay, you've been registered. Thank you very much"

"Please make sure to come in when you have anything you need to send. We look forward to your continued patronage."

"Yes!"

"Thanks!"

The man seemed to look at me happily for just a few more seconds before exiting the shop.

"...Haah."

As soon as he was out the door I let out a relieved sigh.

It wasn't too difficult this time but convincing customers to leave without problems can be pretty tiring.

Well, people have been coming by more and more, so it's worth it in a way.

— Your eyes are so dazzling. I need to meet with you outside of work no matter what.

Among the people who come in the shop, there are an awful lot of guys who say that.

They want to meet up personally when they hardly know anything about me...

If I were a woman it'd at least be somewhat flattering, but usually a guy wouldn't ask another guy something like that... right?

At first I could ignore it pretty easily, but like anyone else would, I became pretty uncomfortable when it kept happening.

But it also became easier to convince customers to keep coming back, sometimes just to send something a walking distance away.

From then on, like just now, I could bring up business more and more from simple promises.

Strangely enough, I don't have the same luck over the phone.

Sometimes a customer will call in but then seem rather disinterested and hang up shortly after, like they don't recognize I'm the same person behind the counter.

Since there's not much I can do I usually just brush it off and leave it be.

"Hmm... the boss should be back soon."

I take a moment to sit down and place my eyes on the digital clock on the counter.

This is Delivery Works. A shipping service that sends packages immediately to anywhere in the Old Residential District. Even though we're on a small island, no one could possibly walk the same distance within a day. So it's very useful for anyone, especially with how inconvenient automobiles and the like are in this town.

I was pretty fond of the idea of being able to help people in this way, so I started working here: I wonder how long it's been now...? I don't remember exactly but quite a while now.

"...Hm? A message."

I was spacing out with my hands in my lap when the Coil on my arm chirped. A coil is something like a mobile phone, but it's much more than just that. Phone calls, messages, payments, identification, and of course watching TV can all be done on this one machine.

"Who could it be...?"

I pull up my messages to see the new mail. Seeing the name and subject...

Subject: 'Unleash me'

Sender: 'Imprisoned Knight'

"Imprisoned Knight?"

Some sort of advertisement? Or an odd scam mail.

I try to guess what it could be about but I can't come up with anything reasonable.

Well it's from some stranger, nothing good could be in it right? I should just delete it.

"Ah!"

As I was hovering over the delete button, something slammed into my waist.

I fall from my chair and something heavy lands on my back.

Three giggling voices.

It could only be...

[your-queer-dad]

Hey dad,

Can i rant to you? I just need to tell somebody.

I don’t feel so great. My parents said i can’t go back to school with my friends because it’s an inconvenience because it’s a 20 minute drive there and back but THEY PROMISED. They said if homeschooling didn’t work out i could go back. But now there acting like that was never said. And it’s not like i can drive myself because they keep coming up with excuses on why i can’t get my license. I don’t even enjoy my hobby anymore because they keep pressuring me to finish the baby clothes i started. And also it feels awful when they blame me for not talking to them, when they don’t take responsibility for anything. I don’t remember the last time they said “I’m sorry” and maybe that’s how the rest of the family works, but then they complain that non of there children talk to them. I’m so very tired of existing at the moment. I see the people that remind me that life’s worth living like once a month and I’m always the person texting them which makes me feel bothersome. My brothers having a graduation party and there’s going to be a lot of people i don’t know, and people i do know for that matter. I don’t want to go, I’m just going to be depressed on the couch ignoring everything. It’s annoying when I’m told I’m only happy around my friends but they’re not just my friends, they’re the ones that kept me alive this long.

Not related but ever sconce i was five i wished i was born a girl, which i think is really funny.

Thank you for letting me rant, i love your blog and what you’re doing.

-✨

Hey kiddo! Thank you so much for reaching out, I'm so sorry that's your situation right now and that you've been having to deal with that all. It sounds like you've got a lot of pressure on you right now, and I'm so sorry. I'm always here if you need someone to listen, you're never a bother kiddo. My inbox is open 24/7 and I'm always here to help.

- dad x

[pretty-chaotic-world]

if my BPD can scream

1. I wish i could have a normal love... but no, my brain wants to worship every little detail of you until it drives me insane

2. sorry i pushed you away i felt abandoned and suicidal 

3. I’m sick of going to bed and knowing things won’t be better tomorrow 

4. I'll ask you thousands times if you really love, please don't get annoyed

5. I'll create "drama" and mishaps only to feel like I'm in home

6. i’m afraid that one day my anger will overshadow the little love i still have left for the world

7. I feel numb. No tears, no anger, nothing. Just going through the same day again and again. I would rather just sleep without waking up.

8. I'm so tired of everytime one small argument or inconvenience breaks out I want to end it and self destruct, it's so draining. 

9. I want to stop feeling anything and when i actually don't it breaks my heart but I can't cry it out.

10. "its all in your head" well duh where tf else is it gonna be??? in my fucking kidneys????

11. I am constantly between wanting people to care about me and wanting them not to so I can hurt myself without feeling guilty 

12. Psychiatrist told me there is no cure for bpd and I've to change myself. Well why cant they just let me die then?

13. Until you live with bpd you'll never know what it's like to be too much and not enough at the same time.

14. i know im constantly too much for everyone but sometimes i just want to be enough for someone

15. if he will leave me, my next diagnosis will be of "sociopath"

16. im so jealous of all the people who see him and touch him and talk to him every single day it should be me me me me 

17. oh I got my hair coloured. why? because I can't hurt myself anymore 

18. "you're so distant" because you can't handle my abandonment issues.

19. My younger self disappoint me a lot. like why were you begging people to stay in your life? ohh no worries I know the answer

20. I wanna throw a plate against the wall, stab a knife through my hand, destroy my laptop with a hammer, smash my door in with an axe and spray graffiti all over the walls of my room 

21. Why shouldn’t I be mad? Why can’t I just be angry and be allowed to feel it? Why can’t I burn everything down?

22. I have to watch my mouth every fucking second to make sure I don't destroy every relation I have coz apparently social life matters!!

23. Isnt it fucked up how he got away with every horrible thing he made me experience and I’m the one who has to live with myself feeling absolutely fucking worthless 

24. I don't deserve food and love. im a horrible person.

25. this is how my eating cycle goes

feeling weak coz i haven't ate anything -> eat -> purge -> feeling guilty after purging -> eat more -> feeling guilty after eating so much -> cry coz you don't know what's happening

26. the diagnosis makes me believe I'm not insane just lil emo ig!! NOOOO YOU'RE INSANE

27. “don’t let it bother u” baby i’m gonna be bothered by this for the next 10 years 

28. if I tell you I love you its equivalent to I can kill someone for you

29. Actually upon further inspection that shit really hurt my feelings 

30. I don't dive into insecurity anymore, i drown in self-loathe

31. i shut up in between group convo coz I know I'll talk invaluable shit and nobody really cares what I say until it's psychology class

32. "if you are fully aware of yourself, why do you keep acting like that?" slapping self awareness on top of bpd only grants the ability to watch yourself self-destruct straight from the vip section thats all it does literally

33. “Where do you see yourself in the future” building a cult for mentally ill people 

34. ofc I've a praise kind i was ignored as a child

35. I'm much better than I was before. you know why coz I don't to air now and don't see monsters walking by side all the time

36. No I don't want to self harm anymore I need to kill that fucking monster

37. Don't mind me, I'm just casually sabotaging all my positive relationships with negative delusions because my life doesn't feel real unless something dramatic and destructive is constantly occurring 

38. i don’t care i don’t care i don’t care (im going to sob my fucking eyes out)

39. “Stop making your disorder your personality” I have a fucking personality disorder for god sake

40. turning my mental illnesses into kinks and calling it the BDSM-5 

41. "destroy something precious while you're in rage" ohh yeaa and then I'll do that again and again 

42. what I hate most about my BPD is the fact that I have started doubting every emotion that I’ve ever felt in my life, whether it’s love, my grief through multiple traumas, or my anger, & it’s so saddening. It has actually led me to start questioning my reality.

43. if I need medication to stay alive, am I really meant to be here?

44. it's either be alone without 75% of my symptoms, or be with someone and display the most horrendous unstable awful version of myself. why do i have to choose between love & happiness or peace & stability?

45. That fucking bpd rage where everyone's voices makes you want to scream and every noise around you makes you want to sh and you're so mad you can almost feel the cuts everywhere 

46. getting worked up to the point of becoming physically ill (throwing up/stomach issues etc) because you felt rejected/abandoned by your favourite person  

47. i wish my trauma made me kind as everyone says but i’m becoming what i fear the most- a monster.

48. imagine getting diagnosed with a personality disorder and the only visible representation of that disorder is an animated horse man, a sociopathic sitcom character from philadelphia, and darth vader

[bruinhilda]

I'm so tired.

My Dad has...let's call them serious medical issues. They don't threaten his life on the day-to-day, but they can when they suddenly flare up. He also has what I would call "inconvenient issues," such as weight and incontinence, that instantly cut off a lot of health and transport services.

I can't drive. I spent 10 years trying in my 20s. I'm so tired of having to explain this to people who can't comprehend an inability to drive. I have no other family living here who can help. I have one sister 2000 miles away with her own elder care issues, and that's it. I don't have close friends that I can just randomly impose on.

Dad's docs sent him to the ER today. A non-emergency ambulance ride was helpfully arranged. But the ER just discharged him after a few hours. "Treated and released."

He has no way to get home. It's Friday night, all of the transport companies that *could* handle his weight and lack of mobility refused. His usual service requires 24 hour notice, and doesn't take reservations after 5pm. The same ambulance service *will* bring him home...tomorrow afternoon.

He's stuck sitting in the ER. I can't get to him. I've been assured he'll get basic care, but I can't get confirmation that they'll, y'know, give him his meds, because they don't do that when you're discharged. The patient care coordinator is "looking into it." At least I had her help, because I honestly don't know where to even start. I've looked into transport services before and had absolutely no luck in even finding them, much less getting their service.

I'm constantly told by random "helpful" people about all these wonderful services that exist to make all of this easier, and to care for people like Dad. They INSIST there's help. But if you look into it, the services either flat don't exist, or they do, but they won't help YOU, because you don't qualify. You need too much assistance they can't help with. Or they only offer care that doesn't actually help your issue.

Sometimes you're told that you have to be "persistent." You have to keep badgering people and ignoring the no until they cave and help you. Which one, is utterly insane. And two, has never fucking worked for me. When I get emotional, I get *nothing*. People won't deal with me if I get too angry or upset. And they certainly won't explain how I'm supposed to do what they expect me to do to unlock the magic cheat codes that will solve all my problems.

You can't help but feel the cruelty of it all. How you don't fit into the overall fantasy everyone else lives in. How people just shrug and decide that you must not be doing enough, therefore it's all your fault you couldn't get help. Just learn to drive! How? I tried, it didn't work, what am I supposed to do to get past the repeated failure? Just do this, just do that. I don't know how. Nobody is going to show me the 'how', you're just supposed to magically figure it out. It's supposed to just work out, somehow. Oh, it didn't? Well, you fucked up. You shouldn't do that. Do it right, and things will be okay. Why can't you just do it right, why do you expect others to hold your hand and help you? You shouldn't need so much help! Oh, things got really bad, didn't they? Why didn't you ask for help?

I know we're not the only ones. There are people "slipping through the cracks" all the time. Often they die from it. I suspect I'll die from it when I'm older and more disabled, because I won't even have someone as bad as it like me fumbling to help me like I fumble to help my Dad.

Don't get me wrong, I've had some shocking acts of kindness in dark moments. People going above and beyond to help out a stranger, often without even being asked. There *are* people who do try to help. But those are individuals, and they *are* going above and beyond. Our society as a whole is cruel, it's set up to be cruel and unhelpful, and it's masked by the firm belief in the fantasy that help is always there for you if you need and deserve it. When it's not, you wake up to the lie. But nobody will actually believe you until they're up shit creek with you.

Thank you for reading my wail. But please, don't start suggesting I look for help from services you assume must be there, somewhere.

[obsoleteozymandias]

Hellooo, I'd like to request a twst matchup, for funzies. (If you are still going through hell, feel free to ignore)

Australian - no known heritage.

Chubby with an average build, 5'5.

INFP 4w5 - Been described as responsible and mature, or sweet and calming to be around.

Rather childish (Which any close friend or family member could tell you)

I have a habit of going on tangents randomly, getting real energetic then immediately crashing, and getting confused over simple things.

I'm a little dumb to common sense.

Shy with everyone, even people I've known for a long time.

Autistic, ADHD, Anxiety, a triple A battery basically. Oh, and OCD, so patience is appreciated.

Again, patience. I can get really tiring when I'm not in the best mood. I need someone who would reassure me.

Stressed often, I would not mind a living stress ball.

Playful people are great! I'm not the best at letting loose, but I still love to!

I loveeee physical affection, but I'm not always in the mood for it.

I suck at social situations, so it would be nice to have someone who can help me through them.

I like people who can guide me through things. I have trouble deciding things for myself without affirmation from others.

Don't have a love language - I'm willing to give and receive love in any kind of way.

I am very willing to help a partner through whatever they need.

I respect the need for privacy, they can have their secrets if that makes them feel more comfortable.

And finally, I am really forgetful, and bad at describing myself!

Sorry if this is long or inconvenient. Thank youuuuu <3

I am no longer in hell 👍

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Cater Diamond

Cater is everything you’d want in a partner: playful and energetic, social and affectionate, but also wise and emotionally intelligent. He may be hesitant to let you help him at first, but the instant he knows you truly love and care for him, you see the side of him that the rest of the world baby does. 

He doesn’t mind you being childish or a bit absentminded. He himself puts on a face of both around other people, and so he understands, and can even sympathuze.

At first, you become friends with him because of his own social ability and friendliness. Then he notices you clinging to him at social events, and he’s somewhat smitten just because of how cute he finds you. 

He asks you out after a while, and I imagine that even if he asks confidently, he’s a bit insecure. You’ve seen the bad side of him - how will you view him now? 

But your shared care and empathy for one another holds strong, and you two become the power couple to end all power couples. 

You two seem to be able to read eachother’s minds after a while. He knows how you’re feeling by the way you walk, and you can pinpoint his mood by the way his hands move while he texts. 

You don’t have to say when you don’t want to be touched or when you need time to yourself - he gets it immediately. 

And he doesn’t have to explain these days where he seems more down than usual, because you reassure him you’ll be there rain or shine. 

Cater is the yin to your yang. And the everything to your everything else. 

[sleepdeprivedshift]

Dying sucks. A lot.

Sure, it's not the first time he's died. But it sure as hell a fucking drag.

He's half conscious on the floor, barely breathing as he stares unfocused onto the ceiling. Night's laying in a pool of his own blood. It doesn't even faze him one bit.

Another incident of a break in. Night feels like deja vu isn't even a real phenomenon at this point. When's he getting paid for all the times he's gotten shot from a stranger at a pizzeria joint? Two nickels doesn't even cut it.

There's vague sounds ahead. Screaming in high-pitched frequencies and the sound of tearing meat. Oh well, at least they're having fun. Bon mostly, he's gotten so protective of him since the original incident. The red really matches his light blue colored casing. And-

Clack-clack-clack.

Someone's snapping their fingers in front of him. Attention- they're trying to get their attention. Night can barely focus where the noises are- or where his eyes glaze over. His head rolls over towards long black spindly fingers.

"Night," A soft spoken voice catches his ears. "Get up. You fucked up big time."

He lets out a small chuckle, liquid trickling from his mouth. "Charlie,"

"You can't swear."

"Yes, I can. I'm older than you." A masked figure in front of him argues. The puppet tilts her head at him. Blank expression with all emotion put into her voice.

"You are like ten years old."

"Doesn't matter." She pats his head. "I learned most of them from you anyway."

Night's too tired to grin, but they both know that he would've. "That's such a lie. Get me up."

"You're already up if you're talking."

Night rolls his eyes weakly and strains to pull himself up. It's as if he was just laying down for a nap, and that the only inconvenience was all the blood. The gifted pendant around his neck flickers light blue, before dying down as he smoothens his hand over it.

"You should've reset it." Marionette says, rolling over on her back as she floats in the air. Her head dangles as if she's at the edge of a bed. "You wouldn't have died, or that guy too. Even if he deserved it."

He ignores her first comment. "I don't think anyone deserves to die." Night says, unzipping his jacket to check his brand new scars underneath. They're already healed, found out the hard way that they heal automatically once he's revived. It'd be cool one day to just- have an open gaping wound. That's something people would be into- right?

"It was just- a weird coincidence." Night shrugs.

"..." She rolls back over to float into the hallway, presumably going back to her box. "Whatever you say..."

Night rolls his eyes, taking much longer to stand up from his puddle of blood. He's covered in so much red that all his purple accents have turned pink.

Ugh... Whatever.

He looks over to the Toys, Chica and Freddy giggling to themselves as Bonnie goes to town on the intruder that shot him. Deja vu, right.

"Alright, that's probably enough." He holds his fingers over his mouth as he whistles at the three. "I appreciate you guys protecting me, but you gotta stop mauling them."

A chime of wavering voices and beeping clicks fill the office and hallway. Night raises his hand up.

"Up-up-up, I don't want to hear it. You all better help me clean this up before six, or none of you are allowed to stay up past your bedtime."

More noise, this time louder and more garbled. He waves his hands around.

"Ah ah ah. You guys heard me. I don't want to hear arguements from any of you." Night picks up his jacket from the floor and hoists it over his shoulder, to join the rest of his blood caked attire. "That body better be disposed by the time I'm done changing, alright?"

He hears his kids disgruntedly agree, and he nods with a smile. "Good. If you even get to cleaning the floor, I'll call Glam for you guys."

Delight and whimsy as he leaves into the hallway. Bots immediately start moving, while items pick up and float around to clean as best as they could.

Night knows he'll have to throw it on his own, double-checking that they don't just chuck a mangled body into the dumpster, and actually take the time to sever it. Guess being friends with a murderer has some of its perks.

Still, it's a bit annoying.

Night groans, on his way out to get his duffel bag from a locker. What a fucking pain to deal with later.

[idontknowwhattonamethisgjuhb]

My greatest desire in life is to live in a little house in a forest that surrounds a village, and to be a local cryptid to the people living in town. Knowledge of the myth will grow to people outside the town on small communities online and from people moving away to other towns and sharing the story of it, and eventually some people will come to the village in search to see if the myth's true or not. They'll stumble onto my little cottage in the woods while searching around for evidence. I'll let them stay at my house to rest and eat some of the food that I grow in my back garden, and they'll tell me why they're there and apologise for the inconvenience, and I'll say it's alright, it's natural to get tired and hungry and harmful to yourself to ignore your needs. We'll chat a bit about living in the woods and what they think of the village so far, and I'll send them on they're way, but they'll return the next day with questions about if I've seen any strange things happening in the forest or heard any odd noises lately, and I'll have to say no, but I'm not that great at knowing what's considered weird when it comes to noises or sights since I've seen a lot of stuff and you can get desensitised to everything eventually, and they'll explain how it's alright and give comfort akin to the 'It's natural to be hungry / tired' reassurance I gave them, and I'll notice they came without their group today, and they'll give an answer which implies they have had other reasons to return, opposed to just wanting to ask some questions. I'll go along with the lie until they come clean and say they were supposed to leave yesterday since their was evidence both proving and disproving the cryptid's existence that created some sort of equilibrium in debate and theories where all possibilities seem equally true and untrue, and they'll say they're not so sure that that's the reason they decided to stay anymore. They move in over the next week and we live together in the cottage with the self-suistaning farm which appears weirder and weirder the more you notice the little details about it, eventually to the point you can call it neither a farm nor a cottage due to a series of seemingly inexplicable characteristics and attributes.

My greatest goal in life is to be the queerest, weirdest mother fucker this side of the universe has ever known and ever will know.

[onosodaisilarap]

📁

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It's exactly 14h25. I sink a little deeper into the chair and yawn. Sleepy…my eyelids slowly close and when my consciousness comes back, I shake my head, pinching my cheeks. Can't I just sit down without feeling tired? Tiredness really knows how to disguise itself sometimes.

My hands reach to rub my eyes. Anyways, gonna leave laziness aside and verify the remaining vegetables.

—Do these people have a problem with tomatoes? There are about 4 rotten ones here.—Who needs that? I get rid of them in a second and they are all crushed in the trash. What a bad smell that has…I hold back the urge to vomit. I have a deep problem with these things. My hate for bad smells is strong, no matter what it is. I throw away all the useless vegetables and clean the waste, the pantry, the refrigerator and the table. The aroma of the products and the soup once prepared perfumes the entire room. Now that's a kitchen! Although it wasn't so dirty before, the rotten vegetables really make it feel dirty. With them in the trash, it even got better.

That's good, isn't it?

________________

I don't really like meat. Actually, the texture is very weird for me. I seldomly eat it. Today, some stuffed meat pastries needed to be made. Well, it tastes good, I guess.

Again, sitting down on the same chair and looking at the same clock. My eyes follow the pointer everytime it moves. So strange...and comforting to relive this moment. It seems to be the peak of my day. Just staring at this clock. Just that. How glorious is time.

—Is there cucumber?—I stand up startled. The blonde standing by the door takes a step back.—Ah, pardon.

—Damn, you scared me!—I laugh and then shake my head. Yikes, that was out of nowhere.—Hm…cucumber, right? No.

—Ah...

—Do you want to eat something of cucumber?

—No. I just wanted one.—I let out a soft hum to her answer and wave.

—Got it. I'm sorry.—She leaves. How akward…I scratch my head. Someone would really come to a kitchen just to ask for a cucumber? Not gonna judge. Cravings do hit after all. I glance at the door every now and then and turn to the fridge. Are the cucumbers really ran out? I'll check again. Maybe my memory failed me...

I look for them over and over but don't find any cucumbers. My memory was right then. Good…I sit in the chair once again. The clock points at 2h15 pm. I yawn and my body softens.

________________

My eyes speak louder than my mouth, sometimes. My stomach growls louder than my thoughts sometimes. I cook, and finish the meals, and serve them. That's usually what I do, sometimes.

I'm doing the dishes. The tomatoes rest on the table, fresh and ripe. I look at them and go back to the sink. How strange it is to be alone in this kitchen…there are only a few dishes, so it’s not that much work. It's good money, so it's not too bad. Of course, I don't have to deal with inconvenient colleagues or disruptions to my schedule. I look at the tomatoes again, and they are rotten.

My eyes check them once more. They are normal. Huh...

Rotten?!

Huh…?

It doesn't matter. Just ignore that. I looked quickly. Yeah, it was definitely an optical illusion. I peek just once more. They're normal. Yes, it was an optical illusion. Optical illusion…? I laugh at what I thought. What a beautiful way of saying that I possibly hallucinated.

—Lady.—This voice. My head turns at its direction.

—Yes?—It's that blonde again. She's standing there by the side of the door, now stepping inside.—Cucumbers?

—No. Is there tomatoes?—I arch an eyebrow and point at them with my nose.

—Take one. They're clean and fresh.—I dry my hands on a dish cloth and use it to dry out the sink. All done! Good.

—Are they ripe?

—Huh? Are you not seeing it?—Now I'm facing this unkwnown girl, her hands hold a tomato and she sniffs it.

—Sometimes it's rotten inside.—Looks at me.

—I know when they're rotten or not. The skin is common to rot first. I don't remember seeing any vegetable or fruit rotting inside before the skin, but...I am no professional, just have the skills and need money, right?

Nothing is spoken back. No words, just the sound of a bite. And it was juicy. A bit of pulp ran to the ground. The blonde looks inside the bite.

—Is it…rotten?—I ask in a frivolous tone, almost like an ironic teasing. She turns her eyes to me and smiles.

—Yes.—My smile vanishes. I raise an eyebrow and get closer, looking inside the bite hole. It's not rotten...

—Very funny. Better luck next time.—I laugh again, but her expression didn't change at all. I'm becoming uncomfortable. I move away to get my personal space back. She leaves. How weird...

_________________

I look both ways before crossing. The street is a little busy. At least hassles can be avoided, on the one hand.

On the sidewalk, I look at the store windows. There are some opening, and several products on sale. I feel my stomach bubbling…uh…bubbling? I didn't realize I was so hungry. I'm already starting to hear the sound of snoring. As soon as I get home, I will prepare something to eat. I'm glad it's close... and since I didn't go to work today, I didn't have to walk as far.

Crossing the shortcut to the park near my neighborhood, the wind starts to blow. I'm suspecting some rain is going to fall soon...I'm glad I didn't go to work! I enter the park and walk around the playground to the street.

At home, I change my clothes and think about what to cook...my body feels weak, so maybe something with a lot of vitamins? Crossing the closet in my room, the big mirror reflects me. I stop walking, looking at myself out of curiosity. My whole body looks so anemic...really, I need some vitamins. Something that sustains...something tasty, but nothing heavy.

Thinking of some quick and easy recipes, I discard one by one, trying to decide and going downstairs, straight to the kitchen to turn over the four corners of the room, looking for ingredients. There's some interesting things here...it'll be a good dish and doesn't take too much time. I place everything on the table, starting the preparation with a pair of shaky hands. So hungry...

—Is there something missing…?—I sigh. What a pain... Do I have it? I guess-

A rotten tomato.

—Tsc, how disgusting.—It even reduced my hunger a little. Yucky…I use paper to wrap it and take it to the trash. It should have been here months ago and I forgot. I'm glad I found it, and for a change, I discovered that I didn't even have the ingredient I was looking for. That sucks. I clean the residue to remove the smell and the spoiled groove.

Now it's better.

I glance at the window by chance. The sky is already getting dark. The blonde is standing a little far away, facing my house and the pan already- I wrinkle my forehead. Where is the blonde standing...?! I look again, and she is gone.

____________________

A pleasing and unpleasant day at the same time like two sides of a coin. I sit down on the chair and the clock points at the numbers calmly. I tried to ignore what happened yesterday. I hope not to see her again today.

Besides, I think I did very well. The smell of food still fills the kitchen and everything is clean. I rub my face and then my eyes, the usual sluggishness overcoming me. It feels like I ate something spoiled…I even smell the rot out of nowhere. It's this filthy garbage. Again, I found rotten vegetables, I threw everything away, it became routine. It's a daily ritual, I always arrive and check the ingredients and it's always the fruits and vegetables that are rotten. Not all, but some always are.

It's 14h20. I stretch and a wave of discouragement hits me. I have to go to the doctor one of these days. My memories keep reliving the incident of the tomatoes and the blonde. I think the anemia is affecting my head. I don't know anymore. I need to go to the doctor.

—Rotten.—I stand up in a startled jolt. My heart sped up. I felt everything spinning for a moment. My view focuses on the door. It's her again. I frown and with a hand over my chest, say:

—What? You almost scared me to death again!

—I was talking to myself. I meant the smell...there's a rotten smell. Sorry.—I take a deep breath and calm down, still frustrated.

—Okay, yes. Everyday there's a rotten fruit or vegetable, I throw them away and then put the trash out.—Silence. I won't restrain myself.—Listen, who are you?

—They call me Miss Pepperoni, lady.

—What?

—I like pepperoni.—pauses.—You don't?

—Ahm…

—You don't like meat?—That's uncomfortable. I nod in response. What does it mean? And she didn't answer my question from before.—Why not?

—I wanted to know your name.

—I thought you already knew it.—I frowned my eyebrows.—What is she even talking about now? I remember the bizarre event from yesterday with the said Pepperoni. I don't really know what to think about it.

—How would I know? Do you also work here by any means? I don't even be in touch with other employees because my work is in the kitchen.

—My name is Morbida. I was a novice at a convent. I come here to eat.—What a weird name. I think to myself about what I saw and I'm still puzzled.

—It's weird that you just come inside the kitchen asking for tomatoes and cucumbers.—I say in distrust and don't worrying about faking it.—Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room forever?

She doesn't look shaken by my words. Actually, she has the same posture as before.

—What elephant?—Looks around.

—Why do you keep coming here to ask for cucumbers and tomatoes?—I hold myself not to say a thing about seeing her figure outside my window. Maybe it's not the right time.

Silence. Morbida seems to think about something, or maybe she really wants to ignore me.

—Because I'm hungry.—I think about it, trying to elaborate a good answer.

—Are you, by any means, friends with the owner?

—Why don't you eat meat?—I blink in surprise. At this rate, I should expect that she would ignore me. What type of question is this?

—What does it have to do with the matter?—That's not possible...I laugh in disbelief.—If you're hungry, why not asking for a dish? You said you like pepperoni.

—Is there cucumbers today?—I close my eyes in frustration. Gonna give up. Maybe I won't get any answers from Morbida, and apparently she's just a strange ex novice that likes salads, as weird as it seems.

—There are pickles. Cucumber is lacking again.

—I like pickles.

________________________

I am still thinking about the lack of answers. The view I had of the blonde from my window. The rotten tomatoes. However, I just ignored everything. After all, I wasn't at my best, apparently. I've been really distracted.

I pass the posts with missing posters and turn around. My belly growls and I feel weak. I'm already getting home, just a little more, please...I start coughing with a bitter taste creeping up my throat. Ugh, I don't want to vomit here! I desperately try to look for some out-of-the-way place to do this, or a public bathroom. There's no time, it starts to come out.

I widen my eyes. Several larvae fall together. Some wrapping themselves around each other in ruffles filled with gastric liquid. What a pain! No one seems to notice, they are walking past me without saying anything. I feel cold. My body is sweating and shaking. My heart beats uncontrollably. The electric charge of fright and fear keeps my eyes fixed on the animals on the ground. I can barely breathe. How disgusting…how disgusting…did I eat something spoiled? Did…did that really happen? The smell fills my nostrils as they stir through the puddle. My stomach growls again. Close my eyes. I give myself a long minute to calm down and until then, I can recover a lot. It's fine...I'm fine.

They are no longer here. I notice it when I open my eyes. The larvae are not here, there is no gastric juice and horrible smell. The bitter taste disappeared from my mouth. I look around, everything is as it always was and there is no one looking at me. It was all in my head.

I was just salivating.

__________________

My other days of work were exceptionally the same as all of the other ones, always having its peak on the break in which I sit on the chair and watch the clock. Everyday, no exception. The blonde didn't show up anymore and I consider it a relief. In contrast, the rotten food keeps being the lowest point. It's the worst thing, for me, but I try to treat it as a common daily event —which is a fact— rather than worrying so much.

Every now and then I think about the larvae incident. After the previous delusions, I ended up not caring. I tried to see a doctor, but I can never make an appointment. Psychiatrists usually have full schedules, hematologists too. I'm getting frustrated, but I can't stop working. I've been at this restaurant for 4 months now, wanting to move to another job, however, quitting now could be self-sabotage.

I fell into a loop of thoughts, and barely extricated myself. My hair is falling off a bit. Flies hover around the trash. When my shift is over, I'll put it outside. I yawn and look at the clock. 14:14. I want to sleep. I also want to eat. I want to go home. I don't want to lift a single finger, but I do. Now standing, I check the pantry. I look in the closet and open the fridge.

A horrible surprise. The worst of all.

This smell...of something spoiled. But it's even more disgusting than the vegetables and fruits. I scan over the products until my eyes fall at the sight of a specific one. A meat wrapped in plastic.

—I didn't see it before...?—How not? I always turn everything over when arriving. How did I not see it? And meat?! I carefully hold the handles of the bag and place it on the table, then open it and look inside. A big piece of rotten raw meat. The flies immediately fly towards it, thirsty. This again? I close my eyes and squeeze them, opening up again. It's still here.

Unbelievable...

Holding my breath and sickness, it just gets worse. I tighten the handles in a knot and carry it to the trash can. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!

—Eat it.—I stop walking, processing what I heard. Is there someone here? I turn my face slowly, and there it is. The strange novice. Morbida, again. Now she seems to smile with a lot of calmness.

—What...?

—Eat the meat. I left it for you.—I let out an incredulous air. My body froze. What was that I heard? I take a step back.

—What?

—I left the meat for you. Eat it.—She came closer and stopped 10 steps away from me. My hands started to sweat and my neck as well. An icy sensation runs through the entire extension of my body. My chest rises and falls quicker, I shake my head in denial.

—You're crazy! Get out! How did you leave this meat here if I didn't see you getting in at any moment?!

—How are you so sure it wasn't here since the start? You're too quick to assume.—Silence. I open the trashcan, wanting to pretend I am not in this situation, but it's getting complicated to ignore.—Eat the meat.

I swallow hard. I purse my lips and look at her again.

—No. Leave me alone.—My sight blurs at the same moment. I feel my back touching an icy surface. Something salty in my mouth. A hideous scream. Bugs squirming in the back of my throat. I see nothing but darkness. Panic sets in quickly enough to lock my thoughts into one: “Eat the meat.”

No. No. I'm not eating the meat. I'm not eating the meat. I'm not eating the...

Meat.

Meat?

My eyes are open. I'm lying on the kitchen floor. A huge piece of raw meat is stuffed in my mouth and I spit it out. I sit down and put my hand on my chest. What was this?! What w-

I see the flesh on the floor. It's not spoiled. How bizarre...how bizarre. I look around, Morbida is lying in the corner with her belly open. It is indisputable. I get up in panic, grabbing my things and run away from the restaurant. I run down the streets. I pass by the post with the posters of the missing people. One of them has “novice” written on it.

I get home quickly and lock myself in my room, curled up in the corner and holding my head. The rotten smell continues to invade my nostrils. I hold my breath and purse my lips tightly. My hands shake. Everything goes dark.

I really hate meat.

_______________________

Today, I got an appointment with a hematologist. I'm scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist too and haven't eaten anything all day. My belly won't stop growling. Fatigue never stops consuming me.

It's been days.

The blonde doesn't stop staring at me. The faces of the posters don't stop watching me. All they are saying is: eat meat.

My big toe itches like something is hanging off it.

Good thing I don't have work tomorrow.