#cheaper than therapy and more useful

[nnnnobodyy]

[uncanny-tranny]

I think a lot of people are frustrated sometimes when somebody expresses that therapy just "doesn't work" for them, and I used to feel that way, too, until I realized that the therapy that I was doing just wasn't right for me.

When people think therapy, I think many just assume it's all cognitive behavioural therapy and that that is the only kind of therapy out there. However, this isn't true, and CBT can absolutely be ineffective for certain situations. If you are confused by this idea, here's an example: when I was in the midst of my most recent abusive circumstance, not only was my therapy weaponized against me by my abuser, but also, the therapists I had were ill-prepared to treat ongoing abuse. They had the tools common for CBT, but there is only so much a victim can do before their circumstances are completely out of their control. In a case like this, CBT can be an unhelpful tool alone, which is why you have people who blanket statement say that all therapy is unhelpful (understandable why one would say that if they haven't had any helpful/good experiences).

It seems like people see this idea that "therapy doesn't work" as an automatic red flag, and certainly, I can imagine why one would think that. However, in a healthcare system that generally prioritizes CBT therapy as the "only therapy," it's helpful to remember that CBT isn't always the best option or the best option alone.

[decaflondonfog]

day 15/30 of 30 microfics in 30 days

eeeeee i am actually writing renee pov for something with a… ummm… completely different mood to this LMAO (it’s porn) so yeah. this was a fun exercise!!!!

RENEE WALKER • CONSTANT for @moondal514

[orcelito]

Oooooooooh boy

AQI is up to 223 now. Just 190 made me lightheaded and breathless...

Thank God I have one of those fancy masks in my bag. I hate wearing it bc it's uncomfortable and i HATE wearing masks when I bike, but. I need to make an exception here lol.

[fuck-customers]

Why on earth would you decide to complain that you were overcharged on shipping (you were not) on an order you received 10 months ago?? "I broke my arm, I was more worried about that, I just now remembered about the shipping" ma'am you paid $6 shipping (an absolutely average shipping cost for a package that size) most of a year ago, it is literally impossible to reverse a payment that old if we wanted to.

I spent a half hour being called a crook in the most annoying whiny voice ever over this while trying to explain that the charge was correct and we couldn't refund her anyway before she demanded a manager, and the manager spent another 45 minutes explaining it was not physically possible, there was no way in the system for us to give her money back after 10 months and the system doesn't know or care about her broken arm. At this point I would have given her cash out of my own pocket for her to shut up if I could have.

The manager ended up offering to set up an online account for her so we could give her store credit just to try to get her to leave and then the lady was like "well I didn't mean for you to have to go to all that trouble, I should learn to keep my big mouth shut I guess," and me and the manager both just stared. You have been blathering without stopping for breath for well over AN HOUR about how deeply wronged you were by our "dishonest" business practices. I have earned more money on my paycheck during the last hour while listening to you complain than the amount you're complaining about.

If you didn't want the only kind of refund we can give you (which we didn't owe you at all since you weren't overcharged in the first place) then what on earth did you want??? Someone you could vent at for an hour with no consequences I guess. Please find some other "cheaper than therapy" therapy alternative.

Posted by admin Rodney

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 6

<- prev next -> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Will you always have to wake up in the middle of the night just to get to know Jake? Marc and Steven notice your yearning to see Jake again.

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, complicated relationship stuff, cursing, angst, sex but the language is not overly explicit and nothing gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

One of the delicious advantages of being with Marc was that he liked to bury his angst, longing and inadequacies inside your body. Perhaps fucking through his feelings wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was better than drinking, and cheaper than therapy.

That's not to say Marc didn't see a therapist - he did, pretty regularly. But being inside you felt so much better than unearthing the shit from his childhood.

That's where you found yourself now, face down on the mattress, Marc's strong chest pressed to your back. Your sweat-soaked bodies writhed in tormented bliss as he thrust in and out of you - hard and almost frustratingly slow.

His thick fingers pushed their way through yours, intertwining, pressing your hands high above your head as he twisted his body deeper into yours.

You were helpless beneath him. And you loved it.

Marc was able to control so few things about his existence. The use of your body was one thing you happily and trustingly put completely in his control.

You and Marc did make soup together for dinner, but no matzah balls were harmed in the making of the soup. It was hearty enough for Marc, but also vegan for Steven. You made a mental note ask Jake what kind of food he liked.

"I don't think Jake's a vegan," Marc spoke up, reading your mind. "I think he's the reason my sandwiches are gone half the fuckin' time."

Marc and his sandwiches. He had sworn up and down, on more than one occasion, that either you or Steven had eaten his damn roast beef sandwiches. You always denied it, preferring turkey to beef. And Steven always fired back with, "Y'know I don't eat that shite, mate."

"Oh my god, I think you just solved a mystery," you marveled. The Mystery of the Roast Beef Sandwich and its thief.

Yeah, Marc wondered what else Jake was prone to stealing. Clothes? Money? You?

Then again, Marc couldn't really say anything about money at the moment. He didn't have a job, unless he counted the occasional times he fronted during Steven's university library shift. You were the breadwinner, at least for the time being, lovingly supporting Steven in getting a degree to actually match up to his intellect.

But sharing you? Was it even sharing if it was the same body? And was it even his business if you wanted to be with Jake? He had no fucking clue. All he knew was that you were about to be his spouse. Steven's too, really. But you barely knew Jake. How could you marry someone you didn't know?

"I can hear you thinking," you teased, slathering some fresh-baked bread with butter. "Wanna talk about it? Cause I don't think I can go anymore rounds today - between you and Steven." Meaning Marc wouldn't be able to bury his worries inside you until your body got a damn break.

"Do you mean between me and Steven and Jake?" Marc pointedly asked.

You dropped the butter knife. "W-what?" You squawked. "I haven't slept with Jake."

"But...you want to." Easing beside you, Marc leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Do you?"

You reallly should have spouted off a quick 'no'. But you hesitated.

"Shit," he groaned. "I shoulda known."

"I didn't say anything!" You protested, a little too innocently.

"Exactly," Marc huffed. "You didn't deny it."

"You kind of put me on the spot," you defended, retrieving the knife and returning to your task, furiously coating a slice of bread with five times too much butter. "Besides, Jake drives me crazy. If he climbs in the damn window again, I think I might shove him right back out."

"Ah, hell, it's worse than I thought," Marc grumbled, folding his toned arms over his chest in a distinct, defiant pout.

"How is it worse?" You scoffed. "And...what is worse?"

"You... him... shit," he sighed. "He got to you."

"He didn't," you protested. "Nothing happened. N-not really..." your voice trailed off as Marc's eyes flashed with possessiveness.

"Not really? I thought you said he didn't touch you. What the hell..." He paused, glancing at his reflection in the microwave.

"Is that Steven?" You interrupted, barging in to what you usually respected as private conversation between the boys. "What is he saying?"

Fixing his eyes back on you, Marc smirked triumphantly. "He's saying you look 'a bit flustered,' which would make sense, since you wore those black satin pj's and set your alarm just to see 'that mysterious bloke'."

"Steven, you are such a traitor!" You whined. "You guys are ganging up on me! I just wanted to talk to him."

"Mm-hmm," Marc hummed, caging you in against the counter with one arm on either side of your body. "So that's all you did - talk? In black satin? In the middle of the night?"

Narrowing your eyes, you called his bluff. "You guys are really obsessed with those pj's. Maybe you would have preferred I only wore your t-shirt? Or, I could have slept the way I sleep with you half the time - in nothing."

"Sure, mm-hmm," Marc playfully nodded down at you, mockingly agreeing with every word out of your mouth.

"Besides," you added, giving his chest a playful shove, "who knows how many times Jake has come home and found me like that - then slept beside me anyway?"

Marc went dead silent.

"I'm gonna kill him," he decided, waiting just a beat before scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, spinning you around the kitchen playfully. "First him..." you squealed as he tickled your side, feeling a mixture of giddiness and dizziness as he manhandled you, "then you. And then him again."

"Marc, put me down, put me down!" you giggled delightedly, banging your fists on his back.

After a few more twirls, and howls of laughter from you, he conceded, steadying you back against the counter. The two of you were smiling, breathless... his strong arms caged you in again as he wet his lips with his tongue.

Ducking down, he pressed his body into yours, breathing hotly against your open mouth.

"Promise me something..." he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip and swiping his tongue inside your mouth. He pulled back just a little, teasing you.

"What?" you impatiently demanded, chasing after his lips.

Sliding one hand around the back of your neck, he crushed his lips to yours, giving you what you really wanted. Gripping your jaw, he slid his tongue over yours, licking hotly as you groaned in satisfaction. You could never get tired of kissing this man.

"Promise me," he finally whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. "Promise you'll tell me if something does happen - with Jake, I mean."

Easing back, he stared down into your eyes - his own warm, brown gaze pleading. "I know you don't have to. It-it's not my business, really, but..."

Sighing reluctantly, he poured his heart out to you. He knew he was safe with you - safe to show you what he really felt inside. "It's not like Steven," he admitted. "I don't know Jake. I just...I don't want anything to happen to you."

Nodding quickly, you reached up to caress his face. "Marc, of course. You're going to be my husband - of course I would tell you that."

"Really?" His eyes sparkled with relief and love.

"Yes, really," you sweetly whispered. "And I know there's no part of you that could ever hurt me."

After all that fuss with Steven and Marc, and the damn black satin pajamas, you actually thought you might see Jake again soon - particularly since he had finally introduced himself to his alters.

You thought wrong.

Jake went back to being Jake, not interacting with you or Marc or Steven, and the three of you were none the wiser about how he spent his time.

You couldn't wreck your entire sleep schedule just to look for him every night. He clearly had no intention of interacting with you during waking hours. You tried very hard not to take it personally. After all, you barely knew one another. But Steven and Marc could tell you thought of him...worried after him.

"I think you should wait up for him one night, love," Steven suggested one evening as you sat cuddled on the couch, reading together. London was being London again. The heavens had opened, dumping cold, wet rain for hours, and creating the perfect, candlelit night in for you and Steven.

Glancing over at your fiancé, so adorable in his oversized jumper, your eyebrows knit together questioningly. "You mean, set my alarm? 'Ambush' him again?"

Reaching up to pull his reading glasses off his nose, Steven shrugged. "Don't think it's much of an ambush, really. Just lovely you wanting to talk, is all. No harm in that."

Smiling warmly, you reached for his hand. "I don't think he sees me quite the way you do, my love."

"Not very bright then, is he? Running 'round at all hours for the old bird, missing the chance to come home to a wonder like you."

"Steven," you gasped, grinning at him. "Talking like that is going to bring an end to our night of reading very quickly."

"Fine by me, darling," he chuckled, tossing his book aside without even bothering to mark the page - something Steven never did. "Because I'm not the dimwitted bloke ignoring what's right in front of me." Scooting closer, he pulled you into his arms. "His loss is my gain, I'd say. Have you all the more to m'self."

So it was decided.

You would wait up for Jake (or wake up -whichever) to see if he wanted to interact with you, and ask how he was doing. It was possible, and in your mind, likely, that he didn't want to be a part of your life. But you wanted to hear it from his own mouth, especially since he slept beside you - in your bed, in your home.

Despite your general apprehension, you decided to be your most normal self and sleep (or in this case, stay awake) in one of Marc's white undershirts - they were so soft and smelled so deliciously like him. Steven's fuzzy goldfish socks found their way to your freezing feet.

You took a long nap and drank a huge cup of coffee (made perfectly by Marc) before bed. You were determined to stay up and see how Jake typically began his nighttime routine. He always ninja'd around like some sort of Father Christmas - waiting til everyone was completely asleep before darting in and out of the flat.

It would be your luck that Jake probably wouldn't even front tonight, and your caffeinated body would stare at your sleeping fiancé for the next several hours.

At first, it was difficult to resist cuddling up with your sleepy Steven. He did manage to adorably whine that he needed you, but you quickly reminded him that this was his idea.

"Just miss you 's all," he murmured, drifting off to dreamland.

You got bored very quickly. Steven had recommended a podcast called, 'Welcome to Staying Awake.' Finding some headphones, you tried it out, following the directions it suggested - reading, solving a puzzle, and so forth.

You were just starting to doze in the comfy chair in the bedroom's corner when your fiancé stirred...only to roll over and fall back asleep.

"Ugh..." you huffed, pushing off your chair to head to the kitchen. After a quick splash of water to the face and a long drink of water, you stumbled back to your bedroom...

...where you saw Steven? pulling a pair of tailored black trousers up his legs - his cozy pj's nowhere in sight. Fastening his pants, he turned around - shirtless - nodding once to acknowledge you.

"Jake?" You tentatively greeted, breaking the late-night silence.

"Hola, mi amor," Jake's rich, deep voice greeted you smoothly - his chocolate eyes flickering down to your bare legs. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Jake," you exhaled shakily, easing toward him slowly. "You didn't wake me up. I was waiting for you."

Warmth bloomed in his chest, but he simply reached for his white dress shirt, quickly easing his arms into the sleeves and fastening the buttons.

"Where...do you keep your clothes?" you cautiously asked, inching closer.

Nodding to the closet, he remained quiet, knotting his tie and sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. Khonshu had awakened him. Time to get to work.

"Where are you going?" you questioned after a few quiet moments watching him getting dressed.

Finishing the lacing of his shoes, he stood, reaching for his leather jacket. Realizing your question was not rhetorical, he granted you a slight smirk. "You know where."

"Can I come with you?" You blurted, already flustered. How did he manage to do this to you?

Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head, tutting a bit condescendingly. "You're not serious."

"I am," you insisted, scurrying over to the drawer to find some joggers for your bare legs. Of course, in this state, compared to Jake, you would be way underdressed. He looked head-to-toe incredible.

The faster you moved, trying to get dressed in enough presentable clothing to go out into the frigid rain, the slower Jake moved. But each action was nonchalant, as if he barely noticed your effort.

Why was he so damn infuriating? Then again, those were the exact words he'd said about you...

Pulling a leather glove over his long fingers, one dark eyebrow shot up inquisitively.

"Almost ready," you huffed, feeling like a child asking to go to work with a parent.

Realizing you were serious, Jake yanked on the second glove, giving his knuckles a crack. "Mi corazón..." he warned, pulling his flat cap over the lustrous curls on his head, and wondering what had gotten into you. You couldn't possibly think he would let you anywhere near his night life.

You were dressed now, in a weird mixture of your clothes and Marc's, but your goldfish-clad feet still poked adorably out of your joggers. Glancing all around the room, your eyes frantically searched for the nearest pair of shoes.

Approaching you confidently, Jake reached for your elbow, bringing you to a standstill. "I have to go. You should sleep."

Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you huffed. "I told you I don't respond well to orders."

Rubbing his gloved hand over the stubble on his chin, he nodded, "Goodnight," and turned to walk out of the bedroom.

"No, I'm coming with you, Jake, wait--"

"No, mi corazón. No." He whirled around, his gaze burning into yours.

"Why not?" you shot back, your hands landing on your hips. "You're going to work, right? I need to talk to you. And I want to see what you do."

He scoffed. "No. You don't."

"Stop telling me no," you snapped, realizing this whole stay-up-and-talk-to-Jake thing was already an unprecedented disaster. You simply could not keep your cool around this man.

"Ah, I see - I can't tell you what to do, but you can give me orders." Stalking back over to the night table, he reached for Marc and Steven's phone.

"I-I'm not giving you orders...I just- why can't I come with you?" You were desperate. You realized, at that moment, that alll this was not a good look on you. What happened to cool, calm and collected you? What happened to the you who respected the hell out of Marc and Steven's autonomy and choices?

You went so far as not even trying to dictate to Marc whether or not he should drink. It was his choice, always - it had to come from him. So why couldn't you do the same with Jake? You knew the drill - people were going to do what they decided to do. Arguing the point was only arguing with reality itself.

Sure, you could explain your fears or needs, and Jake could take that information into account. But ultimately, every person in the world always chose what they were going to choose - period, the end.

"I'm not taking you out there. You know it's not safe," he explained with infuriating calmness. "I'm not exactly working a normal job here."

"You mean...you mean Moon Knight. Like...saving people. Like you did with me that night."

His eyes flashed - you couldn't decipher if it was anger or surprise. "Marc told you."

"Yes," you answered softly, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. You had to calm down and stop sounding so desperate. "I just don't understand why you can follow me - why you can watch over me and save me, but you won't just talk to me." Your lip trembled as you started to realize he just may not ever want to be in your life.

"I thought you said that I was your family," you whispered, moving close to peer up into his eyes. "But you haven't talked to me in a week. I've been worried...I've been thinking about you."

Wetting his lips, Jake swallowed hard and shifted from one foot to the other - the first inkling that you were having any effect on him whatsoever. His dark eyes flickered down to yours. "I told you I can take care of myself," he gruffly responded, his resolve beginning to crack. "So stop worrying about me."

"Stop telling me what to do," you fired back, refusing to shrink away. "You're driving me crazy. If you don't want to talk to me, or know me - if you want to sneak in and out of here every night and never see me again, then just say so."

Your chest heaved with emotion. "I won't like it and I won't ever stop worrying about you, or wanting to know you, but --"

You didn't get to finish because Jake roughly pulled you into his arms and crushed his mouth to yours.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face 

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

[aestherians]

Change and Loss

Word count: 1362

Expected reading time: 10-11 minutes

"If your otherkinity still serves you, it will never really leave you," is what I used to say - more as a reassurance than a statement of fact. I mean, how could I know for a fact that it was true? I didn't have any experience with losing a kintype. I still don't think I do; not really. And I always saw the idea repeated in the community - one time otherkind, always otherkind.

But I don't believe that's true anymore. I'm still a bison for sure. I've never doubted that. I'm still Ɐwhrayɐ the gnoll and I'm still Ben the shapeshifter… but I'm beginning to accept that those sides of me have changed.

"One time otherkin, always otherkin. If your otherkinity still serves you, it will never really leave you"… but what if that's not true? What if you still benefit from your kintypes, and they disappear regardless? What do you do if you lose a part of yourself, or if a part of yourself becomes unrecognizable to you? How do you keep living when you've lost yourself?

Sometime in 2023 the distress of always having to hide my true self became too much to bear alone. But I'm not a brave person. I think the better solution would've been to just bite the bullet and start expressing myself, but hindsight is 20/20. I've survived 25 years by hiding everything that makes me 'weird', and the idea of leaving my one dependable survival strategy behind was (is) terrifying. I went to a free self-help seminar ("Take control of your life!") but all it taught me is that I need a dependable support network before I can take control of my life. I went to my doctor to try and get a referral for a therapist (it's cheaper than just finding your own therapist). Instead he sent me to a psychiatrist for my 'delusions'. The psychiatrist told me my experiences, worldview, and self-perception were unusual but not harmful - they could only help if my goal was to get rid of my schizotypal traits (traits that weren't even significant enough to warrant a diagnosis). If all I wanted was to learn how to conquer my fears and express my true self, they couldn't help. It took months of visits to get the diagnosis: Traumatized by peer abuse, too poor to afford my own therapy, and too anxious and ADHD to even find a therapist in the first place.

I can't even say I was left at square one. I had started out hopeful. Nearing the end of 2023, I just felt helpless.

At the same time, my studies were drawing to a close. I completed my bachelor's degree in animal science and all it took was a diagnosis of ADHD so I could legally buy amphetamines, a compound-diagnosis of autism so I wouldn't get kicked out when I inevitably misunderstood exam questions and failed final after final, and 5½ years - almost twice the expected time for a bachelor's degree in my country.

It should've been freeing but instead it left me directionless. Helpless and directionless - that's how I entered 2024!

In the past, in the strictly structured day-to-day of school, my kintypes have been a source of comfort. Especially my Ben fictotype, which probably fell into the category of coping mechanism. I awakened in a time of intense stress and retreated to that world whenever my present life got too much. When crowds got me overstimulated or I missed an important deadline or fought with my neighbors or drifted apart from old friends, I thought about all the times Ben!me had gone through similar or worse. I cut off a friend in my present life after finding out he'd abused his ex - but in my other life I'd cut off a friend who tried to murder me, and things still turned out fine. I lived through it. I could live through it again. Every situation had a parallel in my other life.

I still don't know why that method failed me, but eventually it did. It's not that it didn't work, it was more that I suddenly had to put an effort into making it work. As if I'd always been able to enter Narnia and now suddenly I had to personally petition Aslan to let me back in. It started in the fall of 2023 but it wasn't until spring 2024 that I fully realized. Coping had never been an effort before, and the worst part is, I don't even know why it suddenly was.

My fictotype was drifting away, even when it still served me! This wasn't supposed to happen! Had I been lied to?!

I think our community has a lot of survivorship bias. Whichever mailing lists and newsgroups get archived, and whatever snailmail gets published, that's what our history is based on. The people who made archivable geocities sites get to write our story - not the people on closed forums or in private chat groups. People who leave the community don't tend to leave behind pristine essays on their fully archived websites explaining why they left. It does happen, don't get me wrong, but it's rare. And when they do leave behind messages, it's usually some variant of "I still love the community that fostered my awakening, I'm just an adult with responsibilities now and I don't have time for this."

But what about the people who don't love the community? Who 'unawakened'? Who aren't passionate enough to leave behind a final message? Do we ever hear from the otherkind who 'fizzled out' and became human - or at least lost a kintype?

You can understand my panic, right? I considered turning my fictotype into a copinglink, but my ADHD is so debilitating I barely remember to brush my teeth - no way I was gonna remember to do daily reinforcement exercises. Especially frazzled 2024 me (still frazzled as of June but I'm hanging in there!).

I was forced to accept whatever my come.

I'm still Ben, on some level, but I won't say "I'm thankfully still Ben," 'cause is it really that bad to not be Ben? Even if that facet had served me well and could still serve me? $1,000,000 could serve me well, but uselessly pining after it doesn't serve me.

I didn't prepare myself for loss because I really wasn't sure I was gonna lose a part of me - and, in any case, grieving preemptively is a waste of energy if you ask me. Instead a turned to the Bison - not my own bison theriotype, but the archetype of the Bison. When one woowoo solution fails, why not try another?

The Bison has always been a good teacher to me - better than any self-help seminar or psychiatrist. The Bison takes everything in stride. The Bison survives until it can thrive. The Bison ruminates on the present, it doesn't ponder the future. The Bison doesn't grieve or fret unnecessarily. It exists in the now. I exist in the now.

Of course, the chance that anyone reading this works with the Bison spirit is slim, but I think its teachings can help everyone - regardless of spirituality.

When turning to other worlds doesn't aid you, accept it, and turn to the present world. Let your worries pass through you, you can't see clearly when you're pent up with worry. You can't prevent the seasons from turning, all you can do is turn with them. Accept your lack of control, instead of trying to grasp at the uncontrollable. Sometimes change is unexpected, and you may not like it, and it might not even open up new doors for you. Not all change is good. But you cannot prevent every unwanted change, and you have to keep living regardless.

My fictionkinity doesn't have the intensity of my first few years post-awakening, but it also doesn't have the casual reassuredness of decade-old kintypes. It comes and goes, and when it comes it's like a whisper. And one day it might become too quiet for me to notice. One day it might not return.

But I think I can live with that.

[kingshovelbug]

Hii what is your best advice to younger adults trying to make it independently and make a living? In art, savings or anything you think of. Thank you in advance!

dont be too hard on yourself. its tough out there right now in regards to like everything regardless of what old people say. also this is going to be a lot so im slapping a read more on here

⭐️ first thing id recommend for anyone is to start figuring out a budget. figure out how much youre making monthly. keep all your food receipts for a month or two to see what youre spending on food. find out what youre paying for thats necessary like utilities and whats not

the goal for a budget (or at least mine) is to find a good balance of earning vs spending. im paying off my credit card right now because i ran through all my savings after we had to move last year but my goal used to be to save 1/4 of what i earned after bills and putting money into an emergency fund (usually an emergency fund is 3 months worth of expenses). but it depends on how much you can comfortably put away. if you can put more away do it. but if you never spend money and deprive yourself of joy youre going to burn yourself out regardless of what your job is

⭐️ if youre not already buy store brand for as much shit as you can. if its an ingredient i promise as someone who cooks and bakes you probably wont notice the difference. if its an actual snack it depends. again both from a money perspective and to boycott pro-isreal companies we get a lot of snacks from aldis and theyre awesome. i dont miss anything from mars, oreos etc when i have my chocolate coconut wafers

⭐️ if you have any subscriptions and you need to get rid of something you can probably cancel them. for *most* things theres some kind of free alternative. but again just like with a budget. there are going to be some subscriptions that make your life easier and while youd save money without them it would lead to extra work and burning out. ex willow has kofi gold because it has really cool extra features that help with running the shop. but for streaming services? im going to be so honest. both to save money and with how cheeky streaming companies (in a bad way) have been getting… you can find whatever you want to watch online for free

if you need to use anything from the microsoft office suite, but youre not required by youre job to specifically use microsoft, libreoffice is a free alternative that i actually like better. its what i use to help willow run their shop and its free

for art programs. if you still have photoshop switch. not just for money reasons. adobe is getting bold with what they can claim as their content and use from what people produce in their program. the switch isnt the easiest but there are a bunch of alternatives. some free some like csp offer one time licenses which are so much better than subscriptions. will has spent almost $2k on photoshop and after effects from using it as long as they have. when csp is $50 and they like csp better anyways. i also know of krita and fire alpaca which are free

⭐️ also theres stuff about being an adult that i thought you had to pay for but you dont? like for car insurance i went through an independent insurance agent and they found me a cheaper plan than i could find myself. i didnt pay the guy. they get a cut from the insurance company for finding them another customer. some banks or credit cards offer financial advising sessions to users. its boring but if you can get a copy of your health insurance see if they have any free shit on there thats available for you. my brother gets free doctor finding? like i can call them, tell them what specialist he needs and instead of me calling around to find one that can take him, they connect me with someone. my work offers 3 free therapy sessions (better than nothing) and free food that i take advantage of

⭐️ i think one of the biggest things that makes an impact for us is researching before buying stuff. sounds like a no brainer but you dont just want to find the cheapest deal. you want to find the best bargain, the best bang for your buck. whats the best quality thing you can get that you can also afford? itll prevent your from having to replace stuff all the time and by extension spending more than you need to. we have nonstick pots and pans that are scratched and starting to peel (which apparently can cause cancer??) that were cheap because of being on sale. now after looking into what makes quality cookware i know i should of just slowly bought stainless steel

⭐️ last big one. credit cards. unfortunately we need them so find one with a low apr and that offers decent cash back. use it up to like 20% of your limit and pay it off every month. focus on using it on things that will get you cash back so you can essentially get free money

im sure i could ramble more but this is already super long

[janetbrown711]

To My Alcoholic Friends

Despite the fact it never, ever ends well, Pigsy, Tang and Sandy spend another Friday night out on the town, drinking and dancing and losing all of their inhibitions before they know it. This can only end well

LMK Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Didn't Want to be Saved

tw for moderate gore, violence, homophobic slurs, hate crimes, anger issues, post traumatic stress, and some very tame horniness before everything goes to hell in a handbasket

Ao3 Link

Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy went out every Friday night, despite it almost ending in disaster every time. Tang would get shitfaced, Pigsy would run his mouth, and Sandy would get into a fight or two just about every other week. Frankly, it was a miracle they were even allowed in bars anymore, but the bar owners always said they'd seen worse, somehow. Pigsy had his doubts about the whole thing, but was glad to be able to go out and away from the pressures of society. After all, heaven knows Tang needs these nights out more than anyone, and someone had to watch Sandy's back to make sure he didn't get himself killed, so Pigsy was always glad to go along and pay the tab.

It was a delicate balance, the three of them, but Pigsy liked it that way. Everything felt right in the world when he was protecting those he cared about.

“UGH, God, if I have to deal with that professor nagging about how I shouldn’t use oxford commas one more time, I'm going to fall into an early grave,” Tang flung the door open to the bar, finding an empty stool and sitting with a huff.

Pigsy laughed. “See, this is why I say college is a waste of time. All that scholar talk's nothing but hogwash to make them all feel superior to guys like us,” he smirked, sitting next to him.

Tang rolled his eyes. “You know my father and mother are both professors, right?”

“Yeah, and they also suck ass, ergo…” Pigsy gestured vaguely, making his partner push him playfully before ordering shots for the group.

Sandy snorted. “That's one way to put it.”

“Parents, who needs ‘em?” Pigsy elbowed Tang as the shots were placed in front of them.

“Ugh, you can say that again,” Tang instantly downed his shot before his face twisted with regret. “Man, I hate tequila. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Because we’re broke as shit,” Pigsy teased.

“And because it’s cheaper than therapy,” Sandy added before slamming his.

“And God knows we can't get your piece of shit ‘father’ outta the paper if we tried,” Pigsy added, finally taking his shot too.

“You're telling me,” Tang grumbled. “And what's worse is I'm in that stupid photo– all day people have been walking up to me and talking about his achievements in space technology and blah blah blah– I'm sick of it! I'm sick of him! He's an asshole! Not someone who's going to unlock the cosmos!”

“Yeah, your pop's a real piece of work,” Pigsy cringed.

“More like a piece of shit. Tossing you out, and for what?” Sandy growled. “He's weak and pathetic, and if I ever see him in public, rest assured I'd teach him a lesson ‘bout respect,” Sandy swore, eyes dark and dangerous.

Tang scratched his neck. “I-I don't know if that's necessary, Sandy, but thanks,” He gave a pitiful smile, while the river demon just grunted.

“Right, well… another round, gentlemen?” Pigsy suggested.

“You know it,” Tang immediately agreed, going back to massaging his forehead. “I can't take another second of thinking about my stupid thesis or my parents, or this song, ugh,” he bemoaned, looking around the bar for a jukebox or whatever the music was coming from.

“Sandy?” Pigsy looked his way.

“Wouldn't be a Friday night without at least three shots of that horse shit,” the river demon agreed, slightly less dark in the eyes, and so another round was ordered.

However, by the time they were ready, Tang had already wandered off to fix his annoyance. It was hardly surprising, but made Pigsy shake his head nonetheless.

“You– uh– good on your own?” Pigsy asked.

Sandy chuckled. “Go find him. I'll be fine waiting until the smooch fest is over.”

“Har-har,” Pigsy rolled his eyes, taking his and Tang’s shots from the bar before beginning his search through the crowded bar.

It took a bit of weaving and bobbing, but eventually Pigsy found Tang standing by the jukebox with his coin purse out.

“Don’t tell me you hate this song that much you’d waste 50 mao– you could buy shitty ramen with that money,” Pigsy gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not allowed to buy shitty ramen anymore, remember?” Tang gave a little smirk, before going right back to the machine.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “You and your spending habits fascinate me.”

“Trust me, this song’s gonna be worth it,” Tang insisted before inserting the five mao and selecting the right number.

The scholar watched with a dumb smile as the little robot arm took out the old CD and swapped it with the new one, eyes lit up like new years. Pigsy couldn’t imagine having that much excitement about some dumb machine, but it was one of the things he liked about Tang; He had a spark Pigsy lost years ago.

“Oo! Okay– okay– it’s starting!” Tang clapped his hands and finally turned to Pigsy, and jumped as he realized he had been holding their shots the entire time. “Sorry about that– I was just so excited– here,” he apologized, taking the drink from Pigsy.

“No worries,” Pigsy couldn’t help but laugh. “Ganbei?”

“Ganbei!” Tang cheered, clinking his shot glass against Pigsy's before they both drank just as the music started playing.

Immediately Pigsy's ears perked up as the familiar synth started to climb, and he started practically doubling over with laughter once the drums started.

“See? I told you you'd love it,” Tang grinned all stupid and dorky, making Pigsy wish he didn't know any better so he could grab his waist and kiss him already.

“This song is so stupid,” Pigsy said instead.

“What? You don't agree? Don't wanna ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’?” Tang batted his eyelashes.

“Tang,” Pigsy's face got all red and hot with pleasure, embarrassment, and a smidge of the alcohol kicking in.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion~ lay all your love on me,” Tang sang along, swaying his hips and throwing his hands in the air like a total idiot.

“You are way too much of a lightweight, you know that?” Pigsy raised a very amused eyebrow.

“And you’re too much of a hardass! C’mon, let’s dance,” His partner didn’t care one bit, moving to the beat with drunken, and irresistibly enticing carelessness.

“C’mon Tang, you know we can’t–”

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck,’” Tang continued to sing, hands moving down his hips in an enticing way. “A little small talk, a smile, and I was stuck~”

Pigsy just rolled his eyes and stepped back, watching his partner with a stupid grin and hot face as he continued trying to serenade him.

“‘I still don’t know what you’ve done with me. A grown-up woman should never fall so easily,” Tang fake swooned, making Pigsy fold with laughter, the desire to join him growing stronger with each stupid flail and look.

“I feel a kind of fear, when I don’t have you near,” Tang batted his eyelashes. “Unsatisfied, I skip my pride, I beg you dear~” Tang extended his hand, and this time, with all inhibitions washed away with alcohol, Pigsy took it.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me~’” Pigsy sang along, and Tang looked so happy Pigsy could kiss him (but instead settled for placing his hands on his hips).

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me~” Tang sang too, his fingers crawling up Pigsy’s arms in a way that made him shiver with delight.

They danced the whole music break together, the music and lights and Tang's general Tang-ness making it harder and harder for the pig demon to keep his hands off of him. It didn't help that the alcohol was certainly kicking in by now, making him feel all giddy and unable to look away from Tang's shaggy hair or how his changpao swayed and clung to parts of his body.

Damn it– Pigsy couldn’t take it anymore, Tang was just too irresistible when he was like this– and with the look Tang was giving him he had to know he was driving Pigsy insane– he needed him– he needed Tang now–

And so, not caring that the last verse wasn't over, Pigsy grabbed Tang’s hand and dragged him out to the back alleyway where he immediately started making out with him, which the scholar didn’t protest in the slightest.

“You’re– like– really fucking hot when you sing, you know that?” Tang said between kisses with a smug little grin.

“And you’re hot when you dance,” Pigsy replied shortly, wanting him to shut up so he could kiss him more.

Tang giggled. “Maybe I should dance for you back at the apartment~”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will~”

“God, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh sir, yes sir~”

“Tang–”

“Pigsy~ Oh-!”

That worked.

“Hey!” A voice called from down the alley.

Pigsy ignored it, gripping Tang's hair and scratches tight under his fingers, completely lost in the enchanting taste of his lover. Besides, he could easily be talking to someone else.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! What the hell you two think you're doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck– okay, slow down Pigsy, maybe he’s just step back and breathe. He's another dipshit in a long line of dipshits. You can deal.

Pigsy muttered under his breath, wiping his lips before he turned to face the bozo ruining his makeout session, sure to stand in front of Tang as he did. “Yeah?”

“This look like a fuckin’ fag house to you two?” The man spat, fingers curled into fists.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Maybe you oughta mind your business. What we’re doin’ ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he glared, and Tang put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do this, Piggy, it’s not worth it,” his partner whispered, but Pigsy brushed it off.

“We don't need more of your kind muckin’ around and taintin’ all the good bars in town,” the man sneered. “Every where I fuckin’ look there's more and more of you peach eaters.”

“Pigsy, let's just go back inside,” Tang urged, squeezing his shoulder.

“Look man, we're not here to cause trouble. Just go inside and–”

“You…” the man suddenly straightened up and pointed right at Tang, who hid closer to Pigsy. “You're the son of that rich space guy on the news, the one who’s gonna ‘take us to Mars’. I didn't know his son's a fuckin’ fairy– oh imagine the scandal,” He laughed, making Pigsy's blood boil.

“You leave him outta this,” He growled.

“What? What is this? Some kinda ‘Sugar Daddy’ situation? You suck his cock and he pays your rent?” The man howled with laughter.

“Watch it, I'm warning you,” Pigsy bared his teeth.

“Or better yet– his father kicked his faggot ass out and you’re the son of a bitch paying that jiàn fucker to have sex with you,” The man smiled and stepped closer. “How much for ‘im, huh? Ten yuan? Twelve? Five for a blowie, seven for a hand job?”

Pigsy heard Tang wince, which made Pigsy angry enough to shove the man. “I said to leave him outta this.”

“Pigsy– wait–”

“Aww, c’mon? You jealous? Or do you just not want word gettin’ out about your little wh–”

Pigsy sucker punched the idiot right in the jaw before he could finish his sentence, but the man was deceptively strong and managed to keep his stance.

“Oh I see how it is,” The man spat out some blood. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Pigsy swiftly went for another punch, but the man managed to dodge, grabbing and twisting Pigsy’s arm. His arm burned with pain, but Pigsy managed to kick the guy in the shin and knee, getting him to let go. When the demon went in for another punch, though, the man dodged and countered with one of his own, which hit him pretty hard.

“Yeah, you like that, you sick fuck?!” The man licked his lips, before he stuck the back of Pigsy's knee hard, bringing it to the ground.

“Pigsy!” Tang cried, getting the attackers attention.

“Oh, I'm sorry lover boy, am I hurting your paycheck?” He asked before trying to kick Pigsy in the ribs, which he mostly succeeded in, though the pig tried to grab his leg to stop it.

“You… leave him outta this!” Pigsy growled, anger burning just bright enough for him to grab and toss the guy to the ground. He gave a hard kick to the ribs for good measure, before running to Tang.

“Tang–” he panted– “Tang– you gotta get out of here– go– I can handle ‘im,” he urged, grabbing his shoulders.

“Wha–? No! I'm not leaving you like this! W-we should go together,” Tang shook his head tearfully, taking Pigsy's hand and pulling.

“Go back inside and find Sandy, it's okay,” The demon stood firm just as he felt the man get up and grab his shirt collar. Pigsy immediately jerked his head back, freeing him from his grasp.

However, he needed a stupid second to recover from the choking sensation, which was just long enough for the man to grab Pigsy's front collar and shove him against the wall, punching him again and again and again– and not just in the face, but in the stomach, in the ribs– everywhere. There was even a loud CRACK at one point that made his lungs feel on fire, but the man just kept going and going–

Until he suddenly stopped, though kept Pigsy pressed against the wall.

“Hey sweetheart, let's make an offer, eh?” The man suddenly looked to Tang who was trembling on the ground and pulling on his scarf, eyes wide with terror. “Let's say I get to take your sweet little queer ass home in exchange for this little piggy to live, eh?”

“S-stop this-! Let him go!” Tang choked out, finally bursting into sobs.

“I will! Just let me have the honor of seein’ you do a little dance or two for me,” the man grinned all smug, spurring up Pigsy's rage once again.

“You leave ‘im outta this, you son of a bitch,” Pigsy spat blood on his attacker, who gripped his throat tighter.

“C'mon, sweet thing, it's either you or the pork,” his assailant reached into his pocket where he had a switchblade– fuck–

Pigsy saw Tang's eyes go wide and briefly meet the chef's own. Immediately Pigsy shook his head– he wasn't worth it– he won't leave you alone– I can still fix this– Go. Home– when out of the blue the man was pulled away from him and Pigsy fell to the ground.

He felt Tang rush to his side instantly, though was alarmed when he realized he heard his attacker screaming– though when he looked up, it wasn't a surprise as to why.

Sandy had grabbed him, bending his arm the wrong way before kicking him to the ground and pinning him down. The man instantly begged him to stop– that he would just forget he ever saw any of them and call it a day, Pigsy knew that look in Sandy's eyes, and the river demon started striking again and again and–

“Pigsy–! Can you hear me?! Are you okay?!” Tang had apparently been trying to talk to the demon, though when he finally met his eyes, it didn't seem to matter as Tang just hugged him anyway.

“I'm so sorry– I'm so sorry– I could've stopped him– I was scared– I'm so sorry, I could've lost you,” Tang hiccuped.

“It's okay, Tang, it's okay, its–”

CRACK

Pigsy and Tang froze at the sound as the night air went still and silent, except for the sound of Sandy grunting and continuing to punch the ma–

The man's skull was cracked open– blood and liquids and chipped pieces of bones flowing and splattering out while Sandy continued– punch after punch after punch it just got worse– blood coating his friend's fist– splashing up to his elbows. The body squelched and cracked in noises so unholy it had the demon praying to the heavens it would stop and he could just forget the look in his friend’s eye– the look of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated rage as he beat the dead man again and again and again. It didn’t matter if he was punching a corpse, Sandy wouldn’t stop (maybe even couldn’t) until his rage– his bloodlust was satisfied.

Pigsy had known Sandy had anger issues, but never anything like this before…

Eventually, Tang sniffled and broke the embrace. “W-well… we should probably get you home– or to a hospital,” he smiled, looking over his shoulder. “Sandy–”

An unholy sound escaped Tang, as he instantly fell back and away from Sandy, grabbing Pigsy's arm as he watched in rigid terror. The sound was enough to make the river demon finally stop and stand, unnaturally still.

Pigsy struggled to make sound, the noise trapped in his throat. He tried to stand, and despite the fact it filled his chest with the intense burning of a thousand suns, he eventually got up.

“Sandy– it's– we can fix this, w-we just gotta get outta here, alright?” He looked around anxiously. The music was still thumping from inside the bar so it was impossible to hear if anyone was nearby, but Pigsy– Pigsy was sure they could make it.

“Y-yeah, we'll just– we just need to get outta here, alright? We'll just toss– toss… it, and then go to the apartment and just--we'll figure it out from there, alright Sands?” He forced a smile at Sandy, who didn't meet his eyes.

“Tang– Tang, let's get you up, okay? It's fine, we're all good, it's– we'll get new clothes, move to a new city, get new names– a new life. It'll be okay, everything is okay,” Pigsy tried helping Tang up, but his partner shriveled away from his touch, actively shaking with the wildest eyes Pigsy had ever seen.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, it’s okay– we’ll just go home and lay low for awhile, it’s okay, please– just stand up and–”

“Pigsy, stop.” Sandy suddenly spoke up, deep voice cracking with emotion Pigsy couldn’t understand.

The pig blinked. “S-Sandy– Sandy, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay–”

“No. It won’t.” He looked at Pigsy, revealing a face and bear battered with blood and bits of Pigsy’s attacker– a man– a person who was now completely annihilated and unrecognizable at the hands of the river demon.

Pigsy shook the thought away– he needed to get Sandy and Tang out of here, and fast. They were currently at the bar on Ba De and Shengli roads– Pigsy’s restaurant wouldn’t be for a couple blocks, but if Tang stopped by a corner store and got some baby wipes–

“Pigsy, you can’t make this better. Stop trying,” Sandy growled, making the chef take a step back directly against the wall of the bar.

“No! This– this can be fixed, he was an asshole anyways, w-we can just– we’re gonna go back to my place– Tang’ll go and buy baby wipes to clean you up a-and we’ll just fucking chill the fuck out for a couple days, alright?! It’ll be fucking fine!” Pigsy demanded, though shrank back when he saw Sandy’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Pigsy, it’s fucking over. Take Tang, and go home,” Sandy ordered.

“No! It’s– it ain’t over until I say it’s over and I don’t say so, s-so–!” Pigsy couldn’t stand looking at his friend, but everywhere else was stained and oozing and making Pigsy’s breathing even worse than before.

“Pigsy, it’s over, goddammit!” Sandy shouted, fists clenched in rage. “That man is dead, I killed him, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“God, fucking– I didn't ask you to do this, Sandy!” Pigsy suddenly shouted, adrenaline pumping fast in his broken chest. “I had it handled! I coulda fixed this fucking problem all on my own but you had to be a fucking hero like you always do–”

“You really think if I hadn't arrived exactly when I did, your sorry ass wouldn't be bleeding out right now?” Sandy spat out a bitter laugh.

“I would've figured it out! But no! You have to go a-and make everything worse for yourself– and of course you won't let me fucking help you either! You're ridiculous!” Pigsy could laugh too, though it made him wince in pain.

“Take a look in a fucking mirror, Pigsy,” Sandy looked away and shook his head. “You need to get Tang and get outta here before you end up ruining not only your life, but Tang’s life too–”

“I didn't ask you to rescue me, alright?! You didn’t have to swoop in. I didn’t want this– I didn’t ask for this!” Pigsy’s voice cracked, and before he knew it tears started to form in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask for you to be such a dipshit you’d let yourself get caught again, but you know by now we don’t all get what we want now, do we?” Sandy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus– this is just like you, you know that?” Pigsy threw his hands up, exasperated. “I go outta my way to try and protect you, and this is all the thanks I get. Nice. Real nice, Sandy,” he spat.

“Pigsy–”

“No… No, you know what?” Pigsy laughed, wiping his face of hot tears. “Let’s just– just shut up and go home already. Once we’re home, we can cool off a-and think straight and then we’ll have a plan for what we’re gonna do and what we’re gonna say. We just gotta get home first, I’m sure my Nana’ll be to help,” Pigsy tried to assert and grab Tang’s arm, but Sandy interfered.

“What, so you’ll drag her down too into this whole fucking nightmare too? Tang and yourself not good enough?” Sandy’s voice rumbled low and dangerous.

“Dammit, Sandy! I’m not letting you throw your life away! Not like this!” Pigsy begged, a sob making a quick escape before being suppressed.

“Pigsy, go before I make you,” Sandy warned, completely unmoved by the onslaught of emotion.

“No! I don’t care! I am getting you outta here a-and we’re gonna go home– and we’re gon–” Pigsy’s rambling was cut off by Sandy’s fist that sent him flying down the alley, another terrible shriek escaping Tang.

Immediate ringing flooded Pigsy’s ears, a fuzziness that had been mild before increasing tenfold now. He could feel Tang on him, grabbing him, shaking him, trying to see if he was okay. When Pigsy opened his eyes though, all he saw was Sandy holding the dead man’s knife and glaring down silently.

After a good, hard look, Sandy whispered, “Leave,” and before Pigsy could accept or refuse, Tang grabbed his arm and forced him to run up and away.

They made it all the way to the opposite block before they stopped, Pigsy's sides stinging and head throbbing too much to go on like that. Once the fuzziness cleared and the ringing in his head stopped, he finally got a good look at Tang and–

Oh. Oh god– he was still shaking like an animal, eyes wide and muttering utter nonsense to himself, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face as he rubbed his arms up and down and up and down.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, you're okay,” Pigsy grabbed his shoulders, successfully getting his partner to look at him and loosen his shoulders a bit.

However, the second he relaxed he began to wretch and quickly stumbled to the nearest trash can where he puked his brains out while sobbing.

“Hey now, it's alright, you're okay Tang, I got you, you're alright,” Pigsy soothed tiredly, rubbing circles into his back while the scholar trembled at the effort.

It took ten minutes, but when he was done, Tang embraced his demonic partner, burying his head into his shoulder and sobbing out apologies and fears and worries and promises at lightning speeds. It made Pigsy feel like he was going to puncture a rib, but let Tang have his words, pressing a soft kiss against his head he didn't care if anyone saw and nuzzling close.

“It's alright, Tang. I got you. You're safe. It'll be okay,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes yet again. He couldn't have chosen a more blatant lie in his life– his best friend killed someone, and was just left facing it all alone– it wasn't right! It wasn't fair! And by God was it infuriating.

Sandy was probably going to be sentenced to death for his crime, meaning the last interaction the two would ever have was him punching Pigsy in his stupid face.

Pigsy clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in Tang's scarf, finally letting out a loud sob.

His best friend was going to die because of him.

[audiodramayearbook]

Most Likely Winners! Shows

Fuck, I missed an important thing because I was listening to this show.

Within The Wires

Show that is begging the world to please stop making their fictional torment nexuses a reality.

Hello from the Hallowoods

(@hellofromthehallowoods)

Listening to this show is cheaper than therapy.

Welcome to Night Vale

They warned us about this show, but we didn't listen and now everything hurts.

Hello from the Hallowoods

(@hellofromthehallowoods)

Best show a listener might not like at first, but really picks up to be something special after you give it more than three episodes and leaves you wanting more.

woe.begone

(@woebegonepod)

I listened to the whole thing and still have no idea what's going on.

Malevolent

(@malevolentcast)

[luninosity]

Hi, internet family!

This is not a real asking-for-money type post, I promise! More a sort of...if you like the things I write, and you have been thinking about buying a thing I write, now would be a really lovely time?

So this small monster (in the pic above) has been diagnosed with *aggressive* hyperthyroidism - like, it basically went from 0-60 super-fast; her T4 value should be around 2.5-3.0 and suddenly it's at 11 (on a scale of about 20) - and the two options are either 1) meds twice a day for the rest of her life, or 2) radioiodine therapy, one time, 95% effective. She went from weighing around 9 pounds to 7.1 in just a couple months, which is a lot when you're a little kitty!

Either way it's going to be expensive, but because she's healthy otherwise, and we could hopefully have her for many more years (she's 13, but, again, otherwise totally healthy; kidneys are fine, heart is fine, my family has had several cats that lived to be ~20), so we're going to do the one-time radioiodine therapy.

Which starts at, er, $2,500. Might be more, depending on how long they need to keep her in the clinic until she, er, passes the radioactive isotope (yep). But we did the math and that's actually cheaper than, say, another 5+ years of her medication 2x daily.

So, again, not at all a sort of "send us money" post! - we *can* afford it, it just...is a big expense we had not budgeted for, which we will essentially have to pay mostly at once (we did the deposit already, the rest is due in early June after her appointment).

And there are many many other big important things happening in the world right now! over here we have been donating to World Central Kitchen! - so, again, no worries; we are okay and we shall be okay! It's just a surprise!large amount of money, as it were.

But if you would like to buy a thing I write, if you like LGBTQ romance and fantasy and history and bad puns about bread, and you've been thinking about maybe trying a story of mine, we would certainly appreciate it right around now, as it were?

Here's me at JMS Books

and me at Amazon

(also available at Barnes & Noble, Kobo, etc)

[theolivebranchreview]

My Love Letter to 2000s Network Television

by @arianna_mitchell

As I sit in my cramped apartment, surrounded by the unbridled chaos of unpaid bills, constantly checking my phone to see if “Julia,” the latest messy situation I’ve gotten myself into, has answered any of my embarrassingly numerous consecutive texts, I find myself yearning for an escape. But rather than confront these absolutely terrifying facts of life head-on, I’ve discovered a foolproof method of avoidance: rewatching my favorite early 2000s TV shows.

In times of stress and uncertainty (how badly would you beat me up if I still called these times “unprecedented”?), there’s something incredibly therapeutic about immersing yourself in the familiar comfort of old TV shows. It’s like slipping into your favorite worn-out sweatshirt that you stole from your ex whose last name you’re not actually sure you remember and feeling instantly at ease. These shows, with their dated fashion trends, now-vintage pop culture references, and occasional sprinkles of racism and misogyny that makes your skill crawl, provide a much-needed escape from the pressures of modern life.

But it’s not just about escapism. Rewatching these early 2000s gems is a form of self-care, a way to reconnect with a simpler time and a more carefree version of ourselves. And dude, if you do it right, it’s so much cheaper than therapy. I mean still go to therapy. But if you play your cards right, you can watch damn near 10,000 hours of television for nearly nothing. I’m still using my roommate’s Disney+ account and I haven’t lived with them for almost two years. But it’s okay because they’re on my Hulu (well actually my parents’ Hulu but you get the idea). As we follow the trials and tribulations of our favorite characters, we find solace in their struggles and triumphs. We’re reminded that, no matter how overwhelming life may seem, we’ve overcome challenges before and will continue to do so.

In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, these shows offer a sense of stability and familiarity. We know every plot twist, every punchline, and every heartfelt moment. I am so tried of surprises, you have no idea. Well of course you do. You’re a human being living in this god awful year 202_. There’s a certain comfort in that predictability, in knowing that, no matter what happens in our own lives, these characters will always be there, frozen in time, ready to welcome us back with open arms. Sure, sometimes they might be poorly written, poorly filmed, and poorly acted, but I’ll be damned if they aren’t the one constant in my life. And let’s be real, sometimes it’s just nice to watch gorgeous people whose lives are even more of a shit show than your own. Sure, I may be drowning in student loan debt that I haven’t paid in seven months (seriously…is the government going to say anything about that or am I like…good?) and questioning every life choice I’ve ever made, but at least I’m not Marissa Cooper, who seems to attract drama like shit attracts paperclips, or whatever the expression is.

So, as I navigate the stresses of being an actual independent human being out in the world– the impending sense of doom that comes with each new political headline that I try to ignore, the constant pressure from every single direction to have it all figured out, and the nagging feeling that everyone else is more successful than me (seriously, do you guys have like 40 hours in the day, what the hell is going on?) – I find solace in the healing power of nostalgia television. And with that, I press play on another episode of Gilmore Girls, ready to lose myself in the fast-talking, coffee-fueled world of Stars Hollow. Because sometimes, the best therapy is the kind that comes with a side of pop culture references and a heaping dose of early 2000s fashion. And did I mention it’s free? (If you steal it)

So here are some recommendations if you’re unsure of what to (re)watch.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Slaying My Real-Life Demons

When the weight of the navigating the post(?)-pandemic dating scene gets to be too much (and let’s be real, it was pretty terrible long before the world broke), I turn to the ultimate demon-slaying hero, Buffy Summers. As I watch her navigate the perils of high school cliques, teenage romance, and the occasional apocalypse, my own problems seem to fade into the background. Sure, I may be casually drowning in capitalist sludge but at least I’m not tasked with saving the world from literal demons and vampires. And can you believe she did it while wearing low-rise jeans? I swear to God if those actually make a comeback, you will be hearing from the lawyer that I definitely have.

There’s something oddly comforting about watching Buffy and her friends face the end of the world on a weekly basis. It puts things into perspective, you know? Like, sure, I may have paid my rent late four months in a row. It’s not because I didn’t have the money, I literally just forgot. Sorry, Jeff, I just don’t think about you that way. But hey, at least I’m not having to sacrifice my love life for the greater good of humanity. And yeah, I went on three tinder dates this month just because I didn’t feel like cooking and wanted a free meal (but I didn’t sleep with them so it’s not sex work and even if it was, there’s not a damn thing wrong with that, you fascist), but at least I’m not having to balance homework with slaying vampires and preventing the apocalypse.

Buffy’s world may be filled with darkness and danger, but there’s a certain comfort in knowing that no matter how bleak things seem, she and her friends will always find a way to save the day. And if Buffy can do it while rocking some seriously questionable ’90s fashion choices (my lawyer is on standby, kids), then surely I can find a way to navigate the challenges of adulthood without completely losing my mind (though I make no promises when it comes to the questionable fashion choices).

Gilmore Girls: A Caffeinated Escape

Picture this: it’s 2 AM, and I’m elbow-deep in a pint of over-priced, freezer burnt Ben & Jerry’s that I bought from the bodega, scrutinizing how I managed to screw up yet another potential relationship. Enter Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, the fast-talking, coffee-chugging duo who make even the most stressful situations seem manageable with their quick wit and obscure references. They are not perfect, they are not always helpful, they are definitely not real, but they are always there to talk me through a difficult situation. As I watch them navigate the ups and downs of life in Stars Hollow, I can’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over me. Sure, my problems may not involve a love triangle with a diner owner and a coffee shop entrepreneur, but the Gilmores remind me that no matter how much life (or love) throws at you, there’s always room for a good laugh and a cup (or seven) of coffee.

Screw it. Speaking of love, let’s talk about my latest romantic endeavor, shall we? Enter “Julia,” the girl who I’ve been texting on and off for the past three weeks, analyzing every emoji and exclamation point like it’s the goddamn Da Vinci Code. I know, I know, I’m bordering on being about as clingy as Kirk when he’s trying to win over Lulu, but what can I say? I’m a sucker for a girl with big brown eyes who laughs at my jokes and shares my love of obscure ’90s bands (even if she thinks Hootie and the Blowfish is obscure, bless her heart).

But here’s the thing: watching Lorelai and Rory navigate their own romantic ups and downs reminds me that I’m not alone in my struggles. Lorelai may have a thing for emotionally unavailable men (looking at you, Christopher), and Rory may have a habit of falling for guys who are all wrong for her (ahem, Logan), but they never let their relationship drama define them (looking at you, girl avoiding eye contact in the mirror). They pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and move on to the next adventure, whether it’s opening a new inn or running for student body president.

So, when I find myself obsessing over whether or not to double-triple-quadruple-text Julia (because apparently, I’ve regressed to my teenage self), I channel my inner Lorelai and remind myself that there’s more to life than waiting for a text back. I’ve got dreams to chase, coffee to drink, and a whole world of pop culture references to explore. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll find my own Luke Danes, a partner who appreciates my quirks and keeps me grounded (and caffeinated). But until then, I’ve got the Gilmore girls to keep me company, and honestly, I couldn’t ask for better role models.

Where’s My Central Perk?

When the daily grind of life starts to wear me down, and I find myself longing for the simpler times of coffee shop hangouts and rent-controlled apartments, I turn to my old friends from Central Perk. Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe have been there for me through thick and thin, offering a much-needed escape from the harsh realities of the modern world.

But as I sit here, alone in my apartment with only my cats as the only real constant in my life, I can’t help but feel a sense of bitterness toward the corporate greed and capitalistic systems that have fostered a generation of lonely, disconnected individuals. The world of Friends, with its tight-knit community and affordable living situations, feels more and more like a distant fantasy with each passing year.

In a society that prioritizes profit over people, the concept of “third spaces” – those beloved hangouts like Central Perk – is becoming increasingly rare. We paved paradise and put up a Santander. Coffee shops and cafes are being replaced by banks, soulless chains, or empty storefronts always promising development, while local bars and restaurants are being priced out by skyrocketing rents. The places where we once gathered to forge connections and build communities are disappearing, leaving us with fewer opportunities to connect with others.

And let’s not forget the ever-increasing cost of living, which has created a generation of transient twenty-somethings, constantly on the move in search of affordable housing and stable job opportunities. How are we supposed to build lasting friendships when we’re always saying goodbye? Frankly, I’ve just stopped trying.

It’s no wonder that so many of us turn to TV shows like Friends for comfort and escapism. In a world where genuine human connection feels increasingly out of reach, we seek solace in the familiar faces and laugh tracks of our favorite sitcoms. We long for the kind of deep, meaningful friendships that the show depicts, even as we recognize how unrealistic they may be.

But here’s the thing: we can’t let the pursuit of profit continue to erode the very things that make us human. We need to fight back against the systems that prioritize money over people, and work to create a world where genuine connection and community are valued above all else.

Maybe that means supporting local businesses and fighting for affordable housing. Maybe it means creating our own “third spaces,” even if they look different from the ones we see on TV. Or maybe it just means reaching out to the people in our lives, and reminding them that they matter to us, no matter how far apart we may be.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what Friends is really about: the power of human connection, and the way it can help us weather even the toughest of times. And in a world that seems hellbent on keeping us apart, that message feels more important than ever.

So here I am, a single woman sitting alone in her apartment, watching TV with her cats. But I know that I’m not really alone, because I have the love and support of the people who matter most to me. I have my friends from college, I have my friends online, I have this little column that I contribute to whenever I feel like so I can at least feel like an old man yelling at a cloud. And that’s something that no amount of corporate greed or capitalistic bullshit can ever take away.

Conclusion

As I sit here, surrounded by the comforting glow of my laptop screen, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the early 2000s TV shows that have been my constant companions through the ups and downs of adulthood. In a world that often feels cold, unforgiving, and increasingly isolated, these nostalgic gems have provided me with a much-needed escape and a reminder of the power of human connection.

From the demon-slaying heroics of Buffy to the quick-witted banter of the Gilmore Girls, these shows have taught me valuable lessons about perseverance, friendship, and the importance of chasing your dreams. They’ve been there for me through breakups, job losses, and countless other challenges, offering a comforting sense of familiarity and a reminder that I’m not alone in my struggles.

But more than that, these shows have served as a catalyst for self-reflection and growth. They’ve inspired me to be braver, kinder, and more authentic in my own life, even when the world around me seems to be crumbling. They’ve reminded me that it’s okay to make mistakes, to be vulnerable, and to lean on the people who matter most.

So, to all the early 2000s TV shows that have been my rock through the turbulent waters of adulthood, I say thank you. Thank you for the laughter, the tears, and the countless hours of comfort and companionship. Thank you for reminding me that, no matter how bleak things may seem, there’s always hope to be found in the power of storytelling and human connection.

And to all my fellow twenty-somethings out there, navigating the challenges of adulthood in an increasingly uncertain world, I say this: keep holding on to the things that bring you joy, the things that remind you of who you are and what you stand for. Whether it’s a beloved TV show, a cherished friendship, or a secret dream that keeps you going, hold onto it with all your might. Because in the end, it’s those things – the things that make us feel seen, heard, and understood – that will carry us through even the darkest of times.

So go ahead, press play on that next episode of Buffy or Gilmore Girls. Let yourself get lost in the familiar comfort of Stars Hollow or Sunnydale. And remember, no matter how lost or alone you may feel, you’ve got a whole gang of early 2000s TV friends waiting to welcome you back with open arms (and maybe even a few outdated pop culture references). Trust me, it’s the best therapy money can’t buy.

[numptypylon]

hi numpty i re-read your cottage cuddles au and it’s really faster and cheaper than therapy, in general, I wanted ask if you are continuing to write a sequel? no rush or complaints, it's just one of my favorite stories and I'm curious. thank you!

It’s ongoing, yeah. It’s been half-written for YEARS, and it’s not even supposed to be very long, I just accidentally wrote a prequel instead and then a bunch of other stuff 😅 I wrote words on the sequel within the last week though, it’s not abandoned, just these days are ridiculously busy, ALL my fandom endeavors are on pause right now. It means a lot to hear you return to the fics, I wrote them to be comforting (pain can be comforting, leave me alone XD)

All the sequel teaser are in the [where the heart is] tag and I’ll post more soon 😊

I also have a few other cottage cuddles fics in the works, at least 2 far-future ones, one wedding based and one first day of school for cottage kiddo and Callum both (he'll return to uni in his 30s). I'll probably post a teaser of the wedding fic next wip wednesday, it's too late for today.

Have a teaser of the sequel though! You thought the sequel would be sexy? Nah, it be dumb. Very very dumb XD under the cut bc mildly nsfw but mostly very dumb

“Um. It’s… just… been a while. For me.”

“Callum. Dummy.” She cupped his cheeks. “We live together. I know it’s been a while. I know I joked about… how good I am at sex but… I’ve never had sex with you. I don’t expect to know everything or for you to. I like you a whole lot, and we’ll make it work if you have the two-penis phenotype, you know I’m flexible in the penis-count department-”

He sputtered, choking on a bit of toothpaste, and the nervousness lifted like magic, because laughter was like that and… Rayla was like that.

“I love you,” he said, relishing in saying it, in letting it spill over as it came to him instead of getting bottled up inside him like a heartfelt-speech-timebomb. “And my junk is… very average. Average size and amount of everything. My hands are big, and I know there’s a stereotype, but it doesn’t hold up, in my case.”

“So you have 1.928 balls? Plenty of men have less than two, and more than two is a lot rarer-“

“Median!” he laughed. “I have a median amount of everything!” Rayla had so resented her obligatory statistics class she had resolved to use it in her daily life because it was so irrelevant to her work life. “Now, who’s a dork?”

[beedomexf]

I've recently started tuning into a new podcast by David Duchovny—not just because I've been obsessively rewatching The X-Files for the last 30 years—called "Fail Better." Think of it as therapy, but cheaper and with fewer aliens (just me?).

The show dives into how our failures shape us, and let me tell you, my big takeaway has been the shocking realization that not everything needs to be perfect on the first try. Who knew, right?

Apparently, our subconscious mind doesn’t register negatives. So, when we tell ourselves "don't panic," all it hears is "panic." Now I get why my heart rate jumps and my feet tingle before exams.

Listening to highly successful individuals (Bette Midler, Ben Stiller, and Brad Gilbert so far) discuss their epic fails has been eye-opening. I’ve come to realize that my anxiety stems from a fear of failure because I care. It's okay to care, and it's okay to fear failure. Failure isn’t inherently negative; it’s just a funny-shaped stepping stone on the path to greatness.

Striving for perfection without support from peers, mentors, or management often leads to paralysis by analysis. Trust me, I’ve been there, staring at my computer screen, contemplating my existence, and wondering if I can turn coloring in and listening to podcasts into a career.

When I perceive that I've failed, my mind spirals into catastrophic thinking about my career, home, and relationships. This podcast is teaching me to focus on the present and not let the fear of failure dictate my actions. Easier said than done, but hey, baby steps!

I enjoy listening to "Fail Better" on Amazon Music Prime Podcasts on Tuesday mornings with my coffee while planning my day. It's been a game-changer in helping me embrace imperfection and focus on continuous improvement. Plus, it’s always fun to hear someone more successful than you talk about their mess-ups—it’s like schadenfreude with a side of self-help.

[king-nyx]

TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE LORE IN THE NEW MERCH DROP

Okay! First of all, Apollo Olympic and Laurel.

Laurel, we can safely assume, is Apollo's most popular song in universe.

He has a music video for it and everything.

Now, the significance of Laurels is that one) Daphne turned into a Laurel tree and two) Laurels represent victory and/or achievement. Do I think Apollo wrote a song about a girl who turned to a tree just to avoid him? No. No, I think this song is about Hyacinthus and Dionysus.

A major defining thing in Apollo's relationship with Dionysus is that Apollo saw Hyacinthus in Dionysus. To Apollo, Hyacinthus and Dionysus are interlinked. I think Laurel is about seeing Hyacinthus as a winner/winning side while Dionysus was the major fall or the "losing side". I think this song would be similar to Joji's "Glimpse of Us" and it would subtly and very unconsciously (reflecting Apollo's state of mind) be uplifting Hyacinthus as this great love and greater loss while pushing Dionysus down and, again unconsciously, stating that Dionysus was the loss. Dionysus was the love that could've been as great but just wasn't.

Now! Dionysus and Cheaper than Therapy

The new merch isn't a look at what the songs of Pour Taste are. No, this is a new album "Hubris". We'll take a look at Hubris in a second, for now, let's try to put Pour Taste together.

Pour Taste is the first album that they wrote and toured with. It was done without a drummer (Ares). Some of the songs have been described as "responses to Apollo's songs"

And, at one point, CTT use the Laurel melody in their song (which reaffirms my theory that Laurel is about Dionysus)

OKAY SO! What are the songs? For names, we have gotten

-Blue

-Not my God

and that's it.

There aren't enough context clues to try and guess what Blue might be about, but maybe (because blue is associated with sadness) Blue is about addiction and that sort of thing.

Not my God on the other hand is a response to Laurel. It's the first one we see that people outright recognise as a response song. It could very well be a call out song about Apollo though with 20x more subtlety.

If we assume that Laurel is about how Dionysus is the lesser version of Hyacinthus, this song could very well be about how Dionysus magnified Apollo and his relationship with Apollo to impossible heights only for Apollo to pull the rug from underneath his feet and show his true colors. How Dionysus tried his best for Apollo and how Apollo betrayed him. This song can very well be, a big 3-minute middle finger to Apollo with a big sign saying "I WISH YOU WERE HOW I IMAGINED"

On to Hubris!

OOF! It's a power move that Dionysus released a song called Hyacinthus. AND WE HAVE PUNCH DRUNK REFRANCE!!

Again, unfortunately, for Hubris we don't have much context clues. But, Hubris was done with Ares and we can guess at a few songs.

This album is called "Hubris" and I think that was done with intentionality. I think that is the theme of this album.

Lose Thyself could very well be about the "mania" that comes with being consistently high and drunk.

Hubris is the title track which could be the start of the discussion of the theme i.e. thinking you're so powerful and big only to be brought down by the power of others (Apollo hints mayhaps). This song makes me think about how good Dionysus must have felt right before the breakup only to be brought down by Apollo.

Pour Decisions is probably a song from Pour Taste that didn't make it to Pour Taste. The only reason I think this is because of the use of "pour" instead of "poor". Pour Decisions, Poor Decisions. Pour Taste, Poor Taste. We get the gist. It could also be a reference or expansion on the themes of Pour Taste.

Narcissus could very well be about the narcisssim that Dionysus sees in Apollo and the Olympians. The narcisssim in every god that Dionysus has met. I honestly am blindly throwing darts at a dart board with this one.

Punch Drunk! Because this album was made with Ares, I personally like to think that Dionysus made the song especially with Ares in mind. Another thing with is that before on a silly Instagram post we got this from Georgie

So....I'm right.

Laurel cover which is...a wild decision if my thoughts on Laurel are correct.

I'm not going to discuss Five Way or Baby, Don't Hurt Me because I can't even begin to think what they could possibly be about. Literally the only thing going on in my head when I see those is "baby don't hurt me no more. no more." I think this song would be a lot sadder than that though. I think it could be about how Apollo saved Dionysus even when Dionysus never asked to be saved.

IXII and Hyacinthus, I think go together. IXII is 911. It's an emergency number and....

(Apollo's number is the one saved for emergencies. In case of emergency [ICE]) Also, I'm pretty sure you call 911 for all emergencies (don't come at me, I'm not American) so this song being about Apollo just makes sense in my head. I think it's about calling that one person you can always rely on in an emergency and them always being there despite everything....it's Apollo. Apollo is the one who fulfills that role in Dio's life.

The last song, Hyacinthus.

Again, I think this goes hand in hand with IXII. I think that while IXII talks about Apollo being there, Hyacinthus is the one that talks about never being enough (for Apollo). The song "Hyacinthus", in my opinion, is about someone who've you've always idolised not being happy with you because you're not exactly like the person they idolised.

...I think it's a very fitting theme for SunDrunk.

And, that's it!

[imalayla]

Having pet insurance has made these past 1.5 weeks a lot more bearable. Even though it's still extremely stressful and gonna be expensive, at least having insurance has given us /options/.

It looks like the options are

1. Keep it splinted and she will heal up but badly and will always be lame

2. Amputate the leg. Cheaper than #3, less chances of complications. Unfortunately though, it's amputation. She's only 3 and that's a tough call to make when it's not life or death.

3. Partial tarsal arthrodesis which is the plate and screws. This will give her the best chance of going back to being a healthy, pain free dog with a chance to run again IF she makes it through the surgery without complications. Unfortunately this is nauseatingly expensive and can come with some complications. It also will require physical therapy and dedication to get her back to her full range of motion and strength pre-break.