#every day all i see is my time being lost and my money being useless and im not paid enough and everything is too much

[karda]

medical bill in the mail that I thought was already done and paid for i might as well just end it all

[xenteaart]

it's not about the roses

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but despite a brief mention of the studio it can fit any au, really) word count: 1,1k genre/warnings: er, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint but overall just tooth rotting sweetness. reader being kinda vulnerable author's note: inspired by my and @skzms 's channie brain worms, me crying over how boyfie he is in may's dms and her coming up with this little prompt. i'm manifesting a sweet healthy relationship for y'all, never settle for less <3

you were never the one for flowers, really.

it just didn’t seem anything meaningful or special, an occasional cute little bouquet on some first date you had ages ago, meeting someone completely new after mindlessly swiping them right on a dating app. plus, it’s always such a bother to take care for it. disassemble the thing, cut the stems, change the water, maybe cut off the leaves too.

at some point, you began to think of yourself as more of a practical person, taking gift giving to the point where it completely lost symbolism. always getting your friends and family either money or something they specifically asked for.

“at least, they’re actually gonna use it and get some utility out of it. ‘s good, right?” you thought to yourself, ticking a box on one of your friend’s wishlists for their birthday. it is good. no stress of choosing and endlessly pondering whether they’ll like it or not.

or is it avoiding the vulnerability of going down a more symbolic route if they don’t happen to respond to your gift the way you’d like them to after carefully planting hidden meanings and confessions all over a seemingly useless present? yeah, maybe, that’s the one, actually.

it was a regular saturday evening, no work, no plans, no big day or anything to celebrate. so, naturally, you were just spending the time at your place, resting after successfully having done all the house chores in one go.

purposelessly lying on the bed, you wondered what chris was up to. it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you two to leave each other hanging during the day, keeping each other’s messages unread and waiting for some free time to give a thoughtful, proper reply.

but the little “1” next to your kakaotalk message was starting to feel unfriendly because... honestly? you just missed him. you wanted to know about his day, what he ate for lunch and whether work was okay today (knowing full well the man couldn’t care less about days of the week, coming over at the studio any time he needed or pleased).

distracting yourself with scrolling tiktok for a quick dopamine hit, you end up losing track of time a little. and the thing bringing you back to reality is chan’s short message, popping up on your notifications bar.

“can you come out for a sec? i’m at the door hehe~”

it takes you three times to read to finally understand what it actually means. he doesn’t have keys to your apartment yet, and you mostly hang out at his place anyways, so him coming all the way to the opposite side of the city makes your heart skip a beat.

you rush to the door and open it almost immediately, only to see channie, your channie, standing right in front of you with a nice bouquet of red roses wrapped up in kraft paper. the next thing you notice is chan’s wide smile, so sincere and endearing it makes you wanna cry on the spot.

you were never the one for flowers, really.

red roses always seemed like something either too vulgar or “easy”. something that becomes men’s first pick because they just never care enough to look for anything else and assume every girl loves it by default.

right now, however, it doesn’t feel like either of those.

the way chris is a bit nervous and really excited all at once; his hands gripping at the crunchy paper-wrapped base as he's waiting to give the flowers to you. the way his eyes sparkle and shine with warmth and genuine adoration for you. and you read past the roses, you learn so much more from it.

you learn how he’s been quiet because he was plotting a little surprise for you, trying not to be too obvious.

you see how he thought of you during the entire process, from an idea to carefully picking out the best flowers, making sure they’re fresh and pretty and will stay this way a while.

you can hear his timid little “thank you” to the florist as they exchange their bows and polite smiles.

you imagine the slightly awkward small talk with the taxi driver asking him about the occasion — the traffic and the parking area next to your building are awful, so you’re guessing he did take the taxi. and the drivers sure love to talk on the long drives, this one you had to learn the hard way.

gosh, chan looks so warm and… so soft, his lips making a familiar heartbreaking :] shape.

snapping out of your thoughts, you look into chris’s eyes and swallow down a salty lump in your throat.

“please don’t be alarmed, but i probably will cry a little,” you warn him before your voice gives out and take the roses, holding them close to your chest where the heart is bleeding.

“so pretty,” you stare down at the gentle velvety petals and sniff quietly.

chan looks worried for a moment but quickly pulls you into his embrace, stepping into the apartment and locking the door behind him.

“hey-y, i expected a smile, not your tears, baby. i didn’t upset you, did i?” to which you shake your head to reassure him.

“no, no, ‘course not! what do you mean? they’re so nice. i’m just… really happy? and i missed you. so much,” the last words come out like a weak mouse squeak as you close your eyes and let your emotions roll down your cheeks, staining your skin wet.

chan nods and takes your face into his palms, wiping away the tears and looking at you so lovingly you think you might actually break.

“i missed you too, baby. do you mind if i stay the night? i…- uh. i bought some face masks too, so we can just relax a little before bed and cuddle?”

you squeeze out a little “yeah” in response, headbutting his forehead and putting your arm around him, with another still holding the roses carefully.

“i love you,” you say slightly louder, making sure that he hears it.

maybe, gifts don’t have to be practical all the time. maybe, it’s okay to put sentimental value into simple, useless things sometimes. make them mean something.

“i love you too, baby,” chris hums still a little confused, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back and planting a chaste kiss on the bridge of your nose.

you reach for his plump soft lips and press yours against them. and even though your tastebuds can feel the salt, it’s the sweetest kiss you two have shared so far.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! I wanted to ask if you feel lately like you've been getting anything positive out of your therapy, because a lot of your initial thoughts about it kind of mirror mine. I'm very logical (except when I'm upset at myself) and very skeptical, so I feel like a therapist either isn't going to tell me anything new, or that I'm going to just disregard it because I can't trick myself into believing things that I just plain don't believe.

But I'm also starting to come to a realization, two years after my ADHD diagnosis and letting go (without therapy!) of most of the executive dysfunction-fueled self worth issues I was having, that I'm kind of Not Okay in other ways. I'm safe —going to work every day and doing my job so I won't lose my livelihood and have never had a self harm urge in my life— But I'm not really okay. I'm having major self esteem issues related to my personality separate from the executive dysfunction that are putting me in a bad place. I don't want to take antidepressants for reasons I won't go into but that means my other option is therapy and... I don't know if I'm a person that therapy will actually work on. I found a lot of validation in some of your perspectives, about affirmations being bullshit and "mindfulness" exercises feeling impossible and useless, about not having an inner monologue and how that might be causing issues with traditional methods. So I was just wondering, do you feel like therapy is working now that you've been in it longer?

I've wasted a lot of money on "elective" (and ultimately useless, back to square one) medical nonsense this year and I'm not eager to waste more, but I've also met my insurance deductible so it's the best time to try it if I'm going to.

I mean, it depends on the modality a little but I don't think trying basic talk therapy can hurt, as long as you find a decent therapist. And it's better to try it now when you're feeling Mostly Okay than waiting until you are Really Not Okay. But this entire paragraph comes with a lot of context so....

A lot of what I talked about in terms of struggling with mindfulness, etc. was less related to the therapy I am still in than it was to the DBT class I took at Therapist's suggestion. We were both aware that she was basically throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, and while it was an interesting class I don't think for me it was helpful. As you mention, I struggled with affirmations and visualization since neurologically I'm not really set up for those; I don't think they're objectively bullshit but I do think there's an assumption within the mental health industry that they will have function for everyone and that's simply untrue, and the expectation that it will is very damaging. I also struggled with the physical-intervention aspects (called TIPP usually) which didn't work at all for me and felt frankly like doctor-approved self harm. DBT can get very culty, which set off a ton of red flags for me -- possibly false flags, but they still waved real big.

And that's because I also have a lot of trust issues surrounding therapy. To the point where, the minute one of the people running the DBT class made actually quite gentle fun of me for asking a question he couldn't answer, I checked out on anything he said. We were learning about a DBT concept called Wise Mind and I asked, "If wise mind is an identifiable mental state, how do we know if we're in it?" and when he couldn't quite answer beyond "It's different for everyone" I said, "But if we know it's real there must be some kind of common denominator, a measurable data point," and he said "Well, Sam, you're not going to levitate" and the rest of the class laughed. Sorry bud, this is almost certainly an over-reaction, but I'm me and you lost me when you came at me instead of just admitting you didn't know. (Also it turns out I just live in Wise Mind like 80% of the time which is one reason I couldn't tell.)

But basic talk therapy outside of DBT is just...you talk at someone about your problems and come up with ways to try and solve them, which is a lot more straightforward and way less frustrating. You have to be an active participant, you have to both have a goal and be willing to discuss reaching it, but that goal can be as simple as just "figure out what my mental health goals should be" at first. You don't have to learn like, vocabulary for it.

The thing is, while I have seen some improvement in regulation issues, I also struggle with basic talk therapy. Most people, and this blew my mind, see measurable improvement in nine to eighteen therapy sessions. A lot of people don't go long-term, they just are having a moment and get help getting through the moment and then can disengage, with their therapist's approval.

I was in therapy consistently from the age of nine to eighteen and only stopped because I reached legal majority and physically refused to go.

Not one minute of those nine years did I want to be there. And, because none of the three therapists I saw across those years actually explained to me why I was there or how therapy worked, for me it felt like "Your punishment for having feelings is to speedrun every feeling you had this week in an hour, to a stranger." There was also what my current therapist believes to be some extremely unethical behavior going on, which didn't help.

So it has taken actually a lot of time to get to a place where I would even allow her to understand what help I need. I've been in therapy for about a year (generally weekly but there have been some gaps) and it has only recently gotten deeper than very basic interpersonal problem-solving.

Like, two weeks ago I told her, "I had a thought this week that I couldn't tell you about something I was doing because then you'd have material on me" (meaning blackmail material) "and that's a fucked-up thing to think." And once I'd actually identified it as fucked up I had zero issue telling her about it, wasn't even nervous as I did so. Who's she going to tell? She's literally legally constrained from telling.

I think well over half of what she does is either validate that whatever emotion I'm having is normal, affirm my reactions so I don't keep believing I behaved weirdly, or praise something I've done that was a positive act. Does this work? Not always, because I'm unfortunately very aware that it's part of her job to do those things. But yeah, sometimes. Even if you don't fully believe it, "Hey that was a really smart move" is nice to hear. Sometimes she helps me come up with a plan for stressful future events or (rarely) behavior modification, and sometimes she either provides me with research or points me towards research I can do on my own. We don't do meditation or affirmations or stuff like that.

Like, last week I brought up the fact that I hadn't really ever thought about how if I have a disability that causes emotional dysregulation and I got it from my parents, they also likely had undiagnosed emotional dysregulation when raising me. So she said I should look into research on children with emotionally dysregulated parents. I was pretty annoyed by what I found (the ONE TIME adults are the focus instead of the kids is the ONE TIME I needed to learn about the kids, really?) but it led to something that was both informative and upsetting, so we discussed that. And when I was stumped about how to move forward with the information, she suggested that my general coping mechanism of writing about it was probably a good plan.

(At which point I just silently advanced my powerpoint presentation to the next slide, where I had a series of quotes from the Shivadh novels where Michaelis, acting as a parent, repeatedly does the exact opposite of the upsetting thing, because I realized even before the meeting that it's an ongoing theme in my work whenever I deal with people being parents. It's a good thing she has a sense of humor and also that I do.)

So yeah. Going into therapy you have to be ready to reject a therapist if you don't like them or if they get weird and pushy, you have to be ready to be a self-advocate, but you are the client; it shouldn't be super difficult to find someone who can at least walk you through what you want from it and agree not to do the stuff you don't want, and if you want to stop going you just...stop going.

Good luck, in any case! I hope you get what you need, whether or not that ends up being therapy.

[green-sky-smoke]

Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

[zippidi-dooda]

So, years ago I was rewatching Cars and since the Bakugou brainrot was strong, I suddenly got the idea that "Hey, Lighting's a bit of a prick at first ... what if I made a story based off this movie with Bakugou as McQueen?" I was specifically looking at the scene where McQueen gets the white-wall tires, y'know his "suit change to impress Sally, and that one drawing someone made of Bakugou in a white suit occupied my brain and it solidified my "this is a good idea" thoughts (ps can't find that specific image no matter how I search it, but if I do I'll add it here sometime)

I had planned to take notes, rewatching the movie over and over to see what I could replace some scenes with since the characters for this story would be human racers and stuff.

Now, I never got around to it

But I took mental notes only writing the important things (what characters would best fit as who) and imagining scenes between Y/N and Bakugou (but not writing those down for some reason??? Still remember bits of some of them though) And wrote half of the first chapter

Here they are to finally see the light of day, (I'll explain why I wrote the characters as who if I remember why):

Summary

Life going was perfectly for the speed racer, Bakugou Katsuki. He had it all, the speed, the fame, the money, and was just one race away from becoming Japan's number one racer. But life seemed to have other plans in mind for him.

***

Speed.

That's what was always needed of Bakugou on the track. And Bakugoy always delivered. Today would be different though. 

He was speed.

He'd push it to the limit - no. Past the limit.

He would win this race and Deku would no longer be number one.

Deku . . . .

Man how he hated the curly haired, green eyed freak. Deku would never amount to nothing, all of those days Bakugou spent playing in the backyard with the kid, racing their remote control cars and playing video games taught him that.  

He never once lost to that loser and made sure to let Deku know that would never change. Ever. Bakugou would always be on top. Number one.

Boy did karma hit him hard.

"Dynamite! You gotta get out there already!"

"I fucking got it!"

Bakugou opened his red eyes, looking around his trailer. 

He was sitting on top of a cabinet with his eyes closed, waiting for show time.

Being alone in his trailer doing nothing was a ritual he always did before a race.

No reason why. He just did it.

The trailer had space for tools and such in case he needed to tune up his car on the go. But there were also shelves lined with his trophies from past races and merchandise featuring him or his car. A single picture waited for him on top of a small cabinet, which held snacks and an extra pair of clothes for him. A mini fridge was next to it holding drinks and such in case he got thirsty on a long drive.

Bakugou practically lived in the trailer. Always having to travel here and there to get to races. He sat in his car the whole time. It was a little cramped sure, but he preferred it to taking a plane, flying to his hotel, having to deal with paparazzi, possibly bumping into Deku or other competitors and having to talk to them.

Bakugou had a short fuse and often ran his mouth to the point rivals would try to fight him. And when that happened Hakamada would force him to have grade school lessons for manners and etiquette and all that to teach him how to "play nice."

That was useless. (And for some reason he was always forced to wear jeans and over-brush his hair?)

Katsuki Bakugou didn't need to be treated like a kid. So the trailer became his favorite place.

Through the tinted windows he could spot the extra from his pit crew who yelled walking away, past the other trucks. He rolled his eyes at them, he knew he could finish every race without a crew but it was required in order to race. So he (had to) let them stick around. They never got along, but it was fine by him since it meant no unnecessary interactions outside of the racecourse.

His manager, Hakamada, did chew him out for it saying he needed a good relationship with the team in order to get a better performance. But they did just fine now so there was no need to try with them.

Bakugou tightened his gloves, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then got ready to walk out the trailer door. He took a second to pick up the photo sitting on the cabinet. He looked at it for a second, memorizing again every detail on the piece of paper, his grip tightening before pressing a chaste kiss to it and tucking it into his chest pocket.

It was a good luck charm you could say. Never raced without it on him.

It was go time.

He was instantly blinded by flashing cameras clicking away, mics up in his face, people waving at him, and shouting - from both the reporters and the crowd.

"Mr. Dynamite!"

"YESSSSS!"

"DYNAMITE!"

"Over here!"

"Tulsa from Konto News, can I get a statement?"

"SIGN MY FOREHEAD!"

"Do you think you'll win this race?"

Bakugou held back a groan.

He always had to walk with a crowd of reporters towards his station. Still, he hadn't entirely warmed up to all the randos always in his face but he indulged them with some words.

"Sit down and watch the damn race for your answers."

"Mr. Dynamite, over here!"

"Dynamite, I'm with Dai Press-"

"I LOVE YOU DYNAMITE!"

"MARRY ME!"

He paused in his walk and addressed the people around him.

"All I have to say to you is, I'm gonna win. That is one sure thing you can get from this race so stick around."

They grew louder. Bakugou ignored them and continued walking until he heard one thing.

"You and Deku have been neck in neck since the start of your career, Dynamite, and you've only been first in the beginnings of every race. You've never actually ended any race in first. Never went home with a first place prize. How do you expect to come out on top today?"

Bakugou turned on his heels and scanned the people, "Who the hell said that?"

He wasn't sure and everyone continued speaking over one another. So, he yanked a random mic out of someone's hand.

"Deku's had his undeserved moment in the sun long enough. I can promise you this: his lucky streak ends with me. Got that? Put that in the papers."

Shoving the mic into whose ever hand, Bakugou continued to his spot, picking up the pace and blocking out everything else anyone had to say.

***

"Alright Dynamite, if you want to win this race for once you need to get your ass over here for a pit stop. Every time we call you over. Can you do that or are you enjoying eating greenies dust all the time."

Bakugou scowled at the extra handing him his helmet.

If they really wanted him to listen maybe they shouldn't be such assholes to him all the time. He wasn't the problem here.

"Fuck off extra, I don't need to stop for you losers every lap. You're just here freeloading off my success so sit down and shut the fuck up."

Bakugou snatched his helmet and shoved the guy out of his way. Right into another extra dressed in aquamarine. 

The two fell down, knocking over a dresser full of tools on the way. Tools were scattered all across the ground.

Bakugou couldn't be bothered to help.

He took a waterbottle from another extra's hand and took a big sip.

"What the fuck man!'

"My bad ... man ... I'll help clean this up."

"Get the hell out of here, I got it."

"What's going on here?"

Bakugou scowled at the last voice. 

It was Deku. And he had no business coming over to him like this. Every goddamn race. The two were always stationed next to each other meaning every pit stop and start and end of the race Bakugou had to see his rival's annoying face. 

And every chance they were near each other, Deku felt the need to say hello.

Idiot.

"Nothing just fell down."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I got this."

"Are you sure cause we can totally help out."

"Don't worry about it, it's our station we'll handle it."

"Get the fuck out of here Deku, you got stuff to do and so do we." Bakugou said.

"You're right, but I only came over for a second. Just to check up on you."

"I'm fine. Now leave. And keep pink cheeks out of here. I don't need her or anyone else distracting my crew, got it?"

"Got it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess," The short, brown haired, brown eyed girl walked over to him with a pen and paper in hand. "I just wanted to see if I could get an autograph. It's for my nephew, you're his favorite racer and it's his birthday next week so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for him."

Bakugou rolled his eyes before taking the page and getting ready to sign it. It had a crudely drawn image of himself besides a little boy, the girl's nephew he assumed, the both of them holding up a trophy as confetti rained down on them. 

Bakugou froze for a moment.

The picture, though ugly, warmed his heart. He knew he had fans but this drawing just showed that they believed he would win a race. And the fact that he had a fan that probably knew Deku, met with him face to face (there was no way the dumbass didn't like pink cheeks since she was always around him, so he probably went to her house once or twice) and they still picked him over the momentary number one . . . It made him feel good inside. 

Maybe one day he'd have a kid of his own and they could cheer for him too . . . .

He smirked and began to sign.

"What's the extras name?"

"Hiro."

"Tell him he's on the right team." Bakugou gave back the paper. "There you got what you came for now leave."

"Thank you so much. C'mon Deku."

The girl began to drag him away.

"Hold on, Uraraka. Kacchan . . . ?"

Bakugou frowned again. "What now?"

The boy's mouth opened and closed for a bit as he searched for the right words to say.

He held out his hand to him. "Good luck out there today."

Bakugou scoffed and slapped his hand away.

"You'll need the luck more than I do cause I'm gonna beat your ass this time."

Deku smiled a bit as he watched Bakugou walk away. He may not have said it the normal way but at least he'd told him good luck back for once.

Deku turned and walked back to his own car.

***

Notes

McQueen: Bakugou - main character, acts like him and their traits align, need that Life Could be a Dream scene to happen with him

Mater: Kiri - the best friend that will make him realize things, who else could fill thus roll, their energy would match well

Chick Hicks: Todoroki - he's not a hick and personalities don't match but he fits as a well known figure that Bakugou would hate yet want to race, Todo will remain calm and aloof and claim BK is his best friend

Dinoco: Midoriya - BK hates him and would also want to beat him as a racer so of course he's here, could be switched with Chick but since the Dinoco brand was a dominant figure/sponsor in Cars I imagine the brands they race for as the old Pro Hero's and the biggest retiring Pro is All Might and he trains MD so obviously it'd be the same in this universe and so Dinoco's Dad: All Might - for those reason's

Doc Hudson: Aizawa - the mentor figure, he does watch and help BK so I think it's fitting, their personalities and morals seem to align and they both stay away from the cameras so despite Jeanist also being a good choice here, I thought that AZ fits better (Jeanist ended up as BK's current/first sponser)

Sherrif: President Mic - (I was today years old when I realized it's Present Mic not President) since he also helps watch and guide these kids I think he could work this role, using police sirens would make sense considering his quirk, can't separate him and AZ

Army Dude: Shinsou - also one who can't be separated from AZ, not particularly a connection to the character but the Radiator Springs residents kinda seem like they don't like McQueen at first so they'd need to hate BK as well and Shinsou would be good at that, he can also cause some drama by being close with Y/N if so desired

Red: Eri - another who can't be separated from AZ, Red is shy and timid which can be applied to Eri especially since she may be scared upon seeing BK wreck the town as a first introduction, Red listens to Sally's requests which can apply as well

Filmore: Mineta - uhm, why? I honestly don't remember but he may be subject to change, Filmore is kinda another form of comic relief I think and Mineta can be useful to create certain situations, a reason to stir up protectivness in BK, and since Denki will be in here I'd like to put them in shared scenes since I think they're funny together

Guido & Luigi: Sero & Kaminari - need the BakuSquad here and I think it'd be interesting to have these two co-run a store, Guido and Luigi are interested in McQueen at first but then aren't (cause he's not a Ferrari) and Sero and Kaminari seem to have no trouble poking fun at BK so I think it could work

Flo: Ashido - again the BakuSquad, their personalities really seem to match, sassy confident Mina is a must and I think she'd run an amazing dinner, so fun, she would also be one of the only gal-pals for Y/N and vice-versa

Sally: Y/N - MC and love interest, I can make personalities match a bit and BK would need people that question and prod him, lots of liberties here

Granny: Y/N's grandma - honestly who else is this gonna be, loved this lady in Cars and would derive most dialogue and scenes using what was in the movie, could write scenes where Granny is no longer out of pocket and senile and gives serious advice and warnings to BK when they're alone (delivered through one line of dialogue and she's immediately back to appearing crazy as if nothing happened)

I never wrote anything about the flame sticker car Ramone and honestly don't know who could fit as him now, maybe I'll search for suitable characters or write up a specific one if I decide to continue this.

If you'd be interested in reading a story like this, feel free to tell me and I might pick this up again

And if you do want this, also share suggestions for who in mha can fill in for the role of Ramone

[beelmons]

Experimental Pedagogy (18+)

cw: reader is a college student, oral fem receiving, mentions of economy concepts

A/N: I wrote this as a gift for our adorable @cassiemartzz , i hope this can get you going through the semester and i'm also very sorry i wrote it like a month before it ends lksjskf ily

The night had fallen earlier than you expected. You weren’t sure at what moment all that time had gone by, and it wasn’t the first time you had that sensation. Whenever you tried to study, specifically when it came to your international economy class, the minutes just seemed to slip through your fingers away from your grasp, and the information did the exact same thing away from your brain. The topic was so boring, not even a reward system was keeping you focused, nothing was motivation to swallow down endless concepts of useless themes. 

Spencer, being the boy genius that he was, had long figured out perhaps mental stimuli was not enough; he made it his little project to find a way you could feel yourself getting compensated for your hard work. And he tried, and tried: money, food, baked goods, objects, trips, they all worked for a limited period of time until you lost interest. He wondered if you were simply doomed to struggle with concentration, but it pained him to see you so frustrated, so tired, he couldn’t just give up. And he didn’t. After a million tries, Spencer finally found the way to keep your brain engaged. 

Physical stimuli was the answer. 

“Who’s considered the father of the modern day global economy?” he asked, his face not moving to look at you. 

He was settled in between your legs while you sat on your desk, a completely dark room barely illuminated by your computer screen. Your underwear had been gone for about an hour, and he had yet to reach your exposed core. He had gotten frustratingly close, though. 

This is how the game went: You had two hours to study as much as you could, he would read alongside you, albeit constantly finish way faster than you, and whenever you finished a paragraph he removed a piece of clothing, or caressed a specific spot, or kissed a well-liked area. Once you were ready for a test, he would kneel before your desk to press kisses to your inner thigh as he asked questions. For every right answer, you got a kiss closer to your slit, and if you were good enough, you could have his tongue. 

You only got to cum once you aced it. 

“Adam Smith.” you muttered, your tongue tracing over your lips as you watched his lips get closer to your needy cunt. 

“That’s my girl.” he grinned. 

His hands were spreading your legs open, since once you had dared to almost crush his skull and use his tongue without completing the test. He enjoyed so, very much, but academic integrity was crucial, and he was not about to let you take advantage once again. 

His lips attached to the remaining gap of skin next to your outer lips, his kiss was more of a bite, a rough suck that you were sure was going to be sore the next morning. Your back arched at the feeling, and you let out a wince. 

“Name of the international trade treaty held between the US, Canada, and Mexico.” his breath hitting your skin was driving you crazy, honestly, you had never wanted him to shut up more. 

“NAFTA.” you said with resolution. 

Spencer's head tilted to be facing your sex, and just when you thought he was going to give you what you needed, he simply blew hot air against the area of your clit. 

“That’s the old name.” he said, and you could feel absolute rage boil within you. 

“USMCA!” you yelled, anger plastered all over your tone. 

That emotion, however, dissipated in a blink once you finally felt the relief of his tongue. He wasn’t going to let you go that easy, though, so his muscle just trailed over your outer labia, not going into your slit or clit just yet. However, he thought you deserved your reward, and he purposely let his nose brush, although barely, against the sensitive nub. 

You did try to buck your hips forward, mind you, but his hands stopped you. Once he had licked enough, leaving your skin as wet as your insides were, he spoke up again. 

“This concept refers to the ability of a country to naturally produce goods for a cheaper price.” he asked against your core. 

Regardless of Spencer’s stoic demeanor as a teacher, he was just a man, and the passion he felt for teaching was often overtaken by the passion he felt for your body. While you scrambled  through your mind in an attempt to find the answer, his lips kept pressing soft kisses around the area, still not allowing his tongue to insert anywhere. 

“Come on,” he stopped his movements to raise his gaze at you “I know you know this, say it.” 

Your eyes locked with his, ever big and shiny like a puppy’s; there was a certain desperation in his eyes, and your eyebrows raised in question, after all he was supposed to be there to support you. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” he rolled his eyes lightly at your judging expression “I’m dying to taste you.” 

The praise disguised as a complaint gave you the final encouragement you needed, and it was like your brain sparkled with knowledge all of a sudden. 

“Comparative advantage.” you said. 

His face disappeared as soon as his brain fact-checked your answer; his eyes no longer locked with yours, since his tongue was entangled in your insides. You could feel him prod inside and out, taking his time to coat his tongue in your taste. Your legs threatened to close on his face again, a tight grip stopping you from it. Your hands locked on his messy hair, trying to keep him in place. 

You were already overstimulated as it was, having had him down there for over an hour, teasing and caressing like you were senseless, like he didn’t have any effect on you, even though he was well aware it was the opposite. Your back was arched against your study chair, and the only sounds in the entire place were your moans mixed by the erotic slurps of his mouth. 

“One last question.” once he felt you clench around him, dangerously close to your climax, he stopped his movements “What’s the main economic indicator of a country regarding the production of goods and services?” 

His tongue didn’t truly leave you unattended, instead, it just moved in painfully slow circles around your clit, keeping you on edge. Your breath was awfully rushed, making it unable for you to respond right away regardless of your clear knowledge of the answer. He took a long, slow lap at your core, trailing up every inch of it, all while having his big honey-like eyes fixed on your hot face. 

“GDP or Gross Domestic Product.” you answered when your eyes met hiss. 

Without breaking eye contact, his lips wrapped around your nup, and his tongue moved side to side at a rapid pace. You let out a pleasured, high-pitched noise as your climax took over you, your fluids spilling all over his face. Once you stopped trembling from the pleasure, he took his time to clean up any moisture left on your skin, sending light bolts through your veins whenever he touched an over-sensitive spot. 

“Jesus, Spencer.” you said, defeatedly laying against your seat “I still don’t understand how I can retain any information when you eat me out like that.” 

“Actually,” he began, standing up from the floor “the basis for this technique relies on unconscious rewarding instead of conscious rewarding. While you’re taking the test you will remember the sensations instead of the concepts directly, and eventually your unconscious will just make the connection between the two. Similar to how we sometimes use smells to help people remember facts about a case.” 

He moved behind you as he explained, laying his hands on your shoulders; you had only covered half the material for the final, so there was plenty left to go. You were listening intently to his ramble, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, it was a little bit so you had an excuse to not continue studying. 

“So, you’re telling me I’m going to be horny in the middle of the test if they ask me about GDP?” you asked in a half joke, however, he actually took his time to consider the possibility. 

“There’s a 30% chance that will happen. Don’t worry, though, I can be there to take care of you right after it.” from behind, he grabbed at your chin and tilted your head back to press a gentle kiss to your lips, almost spiderman-like. Immediately, he dragged a chair closer to your desk, ready to go back to studying with you “Come on, we still have two more blocks to go.”

[aliz5karga]

Words about Gaza and Palestine

I'm not Palestinian. I have no family there. Yet, I mourn those who died, and I cry with those who lost their loved ones. I've been living those past days on autopilot mode. I'm stuck on my phone, looking to be updated on the situation. I am and will not be impacted by this. But my body, my heart is acting as if – because I realize how awful the situation is. It's called being human. It's called having compassion.

We live in a society that forces us to be selfish. To lack compassion, to be completely desensitized to atrocities happening around the world. To go on with our lives. We're a few realizing that the death toll isn't just a bunch of numbers, but a list of people, who had dreams and hopes, friends and a family.

We're a few realizing the importance of life, and how absolutely devilish politicians are. Every single government in this world has and will only care about power and money. It seems obvious, an equivalent to saying the sky's blue, but nobody really grasps how awful governments, worldwide, are...

The West is funding genocide. Joe Biden is supporting "Israel" in their genocide. The U.S. is sending troops and billions in aid to the Israeli regime – they're literally helping "Israel" to exterminate Gazans and colonize Gaza. At least 2000 Palestinian children have been killed and in total, at least 4000 Palestinians have been murdered by the illegitimate State of "Israel".

We live in a world where it isn't outraging and worth burning everything down to see babies being traumatized by war. Newborns coming into this world and whose first sound is either explosions, pain, fear and/or grief. Parents being forced to bury their kids. Children bidding a farewell to their siblings. Entire families being wiped out of the civil registry. Thousands of people have been murdered, and thousands of others are on death row, held hostages by the genocidal regime of "Israel". Because "Israel" decided to cut off access to electricity, water and fuel, hospitals in Gaza are even more struggling to help the injured. The world cries about 40 fake babies, but has nothing to say about 130 real newborns who will be sentenced to death by "Israel" if the blockade doesn't end immediately.

“130 babies at mortal risk in Gaza's hospitals as Israel continues to bar entry of fuel : Israel's 'insistence' to block fuel deliveries needed for hospital generators may cost lives of 130 premature babies, says Gaza Health Ministry” (Anadolu Ajansı)

Worse, they're funding it! They're aiding Israel to murder all these people.

It sends shivers to my spine, it makes my heart sink and it boils my blood when I see those videos of bombs further destroying Gaza ; every single time they touch the ground and detonate, they tear the lives out of many people at once, who thought they'd be safe. I wished those deaths were false, that "Pallywood", as so many disgusting, vile “Israeli” assholes think is real, truly existed. That all these people, all these children, were still among us…

Damn it. I don't know what to think or say. I just want to burn everything down. From what I've seen, many people (thankfully) feel the same.

We need to organize ourselves. We need to accept the (ugly) truth : the government doesn't give a damn about any of us. For the State, money is more important than anything, it's worth killing for. We need to accept it and start organizing ourselves and truly fight for justice. Making them know we don't agree doesn't change anything, voting doesn't change anything – we need to stop playing by their rules because it's useless : we're only fighting for a better illusion of a just society.

We can't live with illusions anymore. Be bad, be angry. Organize and fight for the insurrection. 🔥🏴

If Palestinian children can't dream, then we'll prohibit world leaders from sleeping.

RIOT, STRIKE AND BOYCOTT NOW!

Palestine will be Free, from the River to the Sea! We'll fight until the fall of the apartheid regime. 🍉

Here's what you can do to help the Palestinian cause :

Boycott! Preferably, boycotting all companies that funds the Israeli apartheid is good, but you must absolutely boycott...

Puma

AXA

HP

Siemens

Carrefour

SodaStream

Ahava

Isr*eli produce

Donate to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund (PCRF) if you can. Uplift Palestinian voices and share everywhere, on every single platform you have, what's going on in Palestine, from Gaza to the West Bank. Settlers are committing an ethnic cleansing in the West Bank, and the IOF has shot dead numerous Palestinians in the West Bank. "Israel" has bombed a mosque in the West Bank too.

This isn't a "war", even less a war against terrorism. It's a genocide. We must fight.

[neatandniffty]

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄!

whether it be melodies that give you inspiration for your muse or songs that get you into the writing mood — pick 10 songs you find to give you the urge, the drive, or the creativity to write for your muse!

Haunted- Laura Les: Yeah, do you think it's cute that I'm so fucking stupid? Tell me that it is cause I'm tired of being useless. I've been up for three days, everything is haunted. Everybody's evil and there's bugs inside the carpet.

Kerosene- Crystal Castles: Light of God dimming weak. Nothing's wrong, go back to sleep. Lost the will at infancy. Drown them in clarity. Lend them comfort for sorrow. Enthusiasm they borrow. I can clean impurity, wash away with kerosene.

Hayloft II- Mother Mother: An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg. A shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak. She really didn't wanna make it messy. She really, really didn't but the girl's gone cray. She's not a bad kid, she's not a bad kid. But she had to do it.

EVIL- Melanie Martinez: That's for all the piss that you left me in. See, the horns on my head, they're from goddesses. Goddesses, on God. No, I never knew what it meant. What it meant to be content with you. Said it's all in my head, whenever I spoke my truth. This time I refuse. If you bite my hand again. I will never feed you, you can call me evil. Take it to the grave if you wanna play pretend. I won't be mistreated, please call me conceited. Took me way to long to put this to bed. Loving you was lethal, guess that makes me evil.

Primadonna Girl- MARINA: You say that I'm kind of difficult. But it's always someone else's fault. Got you wrapped around my finger, babe. You can count on me to misbehave. Primadonna girl. Would you do anything for me? Buy a big diamond ring for me? Would you get down on your knees for me? Pop that pretty question, right now baby. Beauty queen on a silver screen. Livin' life like I'm in a dream. I know I've got a big ego. I really don't know why it's such a big deal though. And I;m sad to the core, core, core. Every day is a chore, chore, chore. When you give, I want more, more, more. I wanna be adored.

Crush- Tessa Violet: I can't focus on what needs to get done. I'm on notice, hoping that you don't run. You think I'm tepid but I'm misdiagnosed. 'Cause I'm a stalker, I've seen all of your posts. I'm just tryna play it cool now. But that's not what I wanna do now. I been thinking 'bout your touch, touch, touch, touch, touch. I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush.

Money Machine- 100 gecs: Hey. you little piss baby. You think you're so cool? Huh? You think you're so fucking tough? You talk a lotta big game for someone with such a small truck. Aw, look at those arms. Your arms look so fucking cute. They look like little cigarettes. I bet I could smoke you, I could roast you. And then you'd love it and you'd text me, "I love you." And then I'd fucking ghost you. With big boys coming with the big stuff.

Nightmare- Halsey: I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life. I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind. And I realize. I've tasted blood and it is sweet. I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet. I've trusted lies and I've trusted men, Broke down and put myself back together again. Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters. Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger. Come on little lady, give us a smile. No, I ain't got nothing to smile about. I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for. A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing.

Nowhere to Run- Stegosaurus Rex: You're gunna die, I'm gunna kill you. You're gunna die, I'm gunna kill you. You're gunna die, I'm gunna kill you. Out of ideas, nowhere to run. Looking right down, the barrel of a gun. And so I dream, voices in my head. Delusions mock me, my best friend is dead. I feel no guilt, but I shed a tear. I see your dead body with the blood all smeared.

Hide and Seek- Lizz Robinett: Ding dong, I know you can hear me. Open up the door. I only want to play a little. Ding dong, you can't keep me waiting. It's already too late. For you to try and run away. I see you through the window. Our eyes are locked together. I can sense your horror. Though I'd like to see it closer. Ding dong pay the consequence.

tagged by: @fallenmorniingstar

Tagging: @dick-meister @alteregozowie @top-shelf-tender @originemesis @keenie-bopper @screentimeoverlord

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I will not add anything to that last reply because it was absolutely CHEF’S KISS— we love our sad man getting some well deserved cuddles from his baby <3

But I will go back to our talk from this morning/last night/whatever time it was for you then about Joel’s wife

I actually realized I got my math wrong (very surprising 😐) and Sarah was actually FOURTEEN when she died in the show which makes Joel becoming a dad at TWENTY TWO!!!!!!!! Anyways

Totally agree on everything you said but if I can just add: if the mom (let’s call her that because it’s shorter and I’m a lazy ass) had ever voiced the SLIGHTEST discomfort or fear or whatever, Joel would’ve been right next to her, trying to figure out a way to lighten the weight on her shoulders.

She says she doesn’t feel like herself anymore? It’s okay babe, take a bath and I’ll put the baby to sleep and make you some dinner

She says all her friends are traveling and having fun and enjoying their 20s? No problem, I’ll watch the baby tonight and you can catch up with the girls

She says she feels depressed—probably postpartum depression— and being around the baby is too much because she feels like she’s failing? Joel makes sure to help whenever and wherever he can, reminds her that she’s a real fucking force of nature and he’s proud of her; he doesn’t care if he has to say it ten times a day, he’ll say it how many times she needs to hear it

She says she doesn’t know how she can handle all this when he’s away all day? He’ll take all his lunch breaks to spend some time home even if it means barely eating anything and he’ll try to come home as much as he can AT THE SAME TIME he will be taking as many shifts as possible because let’s say the mom is finishing college or she wants to finish her studies or whatever so she can’t work and bring money

Joel doesn’t care about exhaustion or sounds cheesy or whatever, all he cares about is his family.

BUT THEN she just gets tired of it. This is not the life for her. She didn’t even want a kid in the first place and now she has to sacrifice her entire life? She kept it because Joel seemed so happy about it, because even if they would be tight on the money and he’d give up the “young, married couple” phase, they’d have a baby— a mini human half him, half her and he couldn’t see the bad side to that.

And when she leaves, Joel is so lost.

Every night, baby Sarah wakes up and she misses her mama so much. She asks for her constantly. She cries. Piercing screams that break his heart over and over again. Joel has no idea what to do. How can he explain to a baby what’s going on?

And he’s exhausted. He works days and nights, barely has time to eat or shower or do any normal human thing. He’s up for night bottles and he has to figure out how to care for the baby when she’s sick and no one can watch her.

But, the worst part are the night when she wakes up and all she wants is her mommy. Because it’s the moments where joel feels the most useless, the most incapable of dealing with it.

He can’t replace her mom, he can’t calm down his baby because what she needs is the only thing he can’t give her.

And it makes him feel so powerless.

There are some night where he feels like giving up. It’s too much for one person to handle. Sarah deserves a real family. A mom and a dad who know what they’re doing. Not some 20 something fucker who gets the wrong diaper size half of the time.

But then…then he brings her to bed with him and she falls asleep on his chest, tightly holding onto his thumb.

And Joel knows he can’t give that up. It’s hard. It’s so hard he can’t see the end of it. But he adores that little girl. She’s all he has. She’s his entire world and he would snatch the moon and all the stars in the sky if it means seeing the toothy smile and hear the soft “dada” and have her lay on his chest a bit longer.

So Joel carries on. He becomes the dad and the mom, the nurse, the hairdresser, the teacher. Everything a child needs.

Sometimes he messes up, sure. But he learns from his mistakes and yeah, he even gets some help.

The nice teacher notices how Sarah’s pigtails aren’t quite on the same level but she knows about Joel’s situation so she tells him “hey, if you bring her a bit early in the morning with a brush and some hair ties, I can do that for you or at least show you”

The dad next door makes sure to invite Joel for BBQs and always invite Sarah on saturdays to play with the kids, that way Joel can go to work and come home with a bathed, fed and happy child.

Tommy always helps for tea parties, birthdays, whenever he can give a hand because yeah, his big brother has been through too much shit to just deal with everything all by himself—even if sometimes he’s too proud to ask for help

So my point is, Sarah’s mom, really screw you. And Joel, baby, I’m proud of you and I love you, you’re doing a great job <3

Now all I can think about is Joel with a baby on his chest... damn you!!!!!!!!!!! 😫😫😫😫

I feel like the fact itself that he tried so hard and she still left him would absolutely break him. Because he would be there thinking that maybe he missed something, maybe he still didn't do enough, maybe he is just not good enough as it is. It would mess with his head so bad. But yeah... Joel has to stay strong for Sarah and I feel like all the little smiles, giggles that she would give Joel would make it all one hundred times better. He knows that he would never be able to give Sarah up. Now it's Joel and Sarah against the world.

[johnnyrobish]

Trump’s Financially Troubled ‘Truth Social’ Facing Key Funding Deadline

A complex deal to take Donald Trump’s social-media platform Truth Social public faces a crucial test next week that could determine whether it becomes a multibillion-dollar company that the former US president once vowed would stand up to “big tech,” or just languish in financial limbo.  Trump’s Truth Social network’s “blank check” ally Digital World Acquisition, once considered a stock-market star, is now just days away from potential total liquidation.  

Ah, what shame!  It seems Humpty Trumpty is falling down.  Now, a lot of people will claim Donald Trump is totally useless, but I disagree.  They all seem to forget there are two things Trump does extremely well - spending other people's money and conning morons.  They say suckers are “born” every minute - and Trump is right there in the nursery to reel them in.  That said, you didn’t exactly have to be Nostradamus to figure out how this grift would end. 

You’d think six previous bankruptcies would’ve raised a red flag or two for these “investors.”  Hell, if these folks over at “Truth Social” were being completely “truthful,” they’d have named the platform “Lying Through My Teeth Social,” or perhaps “Spoof Social.” The only real “truth” about Truth Social” is that they're headed for bankruptcy.  And to think poor MAGA sycophant Marjorie Trailor Greene had $50K invested.  Damm shame, if you ask me, although I don’t think she will.

Gee, this Donald Trump fellow sure has the magic touch, doesn't he?  Now, I wouldn’t call it a “Midas Touch,” but its a “touch,” just the same.  Wonder what’s next, “Trump Tacos?”  Those might help coat your stomach if you’re hammering down Trump Vodka to drown your sorrows over all the money you’ve lost. Now, the big question is, how long before Trump and his pals start blaming some nefarious, secret "Deep State" agency for the collapse of his shining bastion of "free speech?”  After all, Trump is usually all winning, winning, winning. 

The way I see it, about the only positive thing about this whole Trump MAGA phenomenon - is that we now know who the monsters are who’ve been living among us all along.  Oh sure, its true they love him, but the fact is, they love him most when he’s busy breaking china and glassware.  I mean, they have to know he’s a fraud, but hey - he hates all the same people they hate, which makes it all OK.  So they keep sending him money.  Apparently, you really can fool some of the people - “all of the time.”

If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve just read, please consider joining me at:

[gamerbearmira]

The Coma AU, nothing but angst. );

Mirabel was tired. She was tired of being the family black sheep and the town pariah. She was tired of the pitiful looks her parents sent her when she walked passed them. She was tired of the snide remarks and hurtful words her sister gave her when they crossed paths. She was tired of being told to step aside and let the family do what they do best. But what about her? What can she do? What does she do best?

Get in the way, that's what.

Mirabel was in the kitchen, packing away as much food as her bag could take. She was leaving tonight no matter what. Today had been hell. First Abuela scolded her for being late to breakfast, even though everyone had barely begun eating, Camilo wasn't even down and when he did come down ten minutes later she greeted him with nothing but love and compassion. She was used to it. She hadn't expected any kind of love and compassion from Abuela in years and today she was her breaking point. She left breakfast early, ignoring Abuela's demands for her to come back, and began getting everything together. She avoided her family like the plague and didn't go to any of her jobs, leaving that responsibility to whatever Madrigal would be near.

She visited a man named Edwardo, who was usually found on the outskirts of the town in the jungle hacking away at the plants and trees. She had asked him how far we take her into the jungle if she paid him, so she could leave. He agreed. "Hello, senorita. Don't be late tonight, and make sure you bring the money. I don't do free work." She nodded and gave him half of what they agreed on now. "You'll get the other half when you take me where I need to be." He scowled and shoved the money in his bag. "I'll be here till one. Be here by then or you're out of luck, and you still have to cough up the rest of the money."

She was still avoiding her family, even when it was lunch she didn't go home. She wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Of course, nothing ever went how she wanted it to. "Ugh. There you are." Isabela stomped up to her, her perfect hair flowing in the breeze. "Abuela told me to come get you." Mirabel just stared at her oldest sister and refused to speak. Isabela scowled and reached to grab Mirabel's hand, "come on. I don't have all day, some of us actually have things to do other than sit on our asses and be useless." Mirabel snatched her arm out of Isabela's grip with so much force it tugged Isabela back a little. "Then go do it. Go be perfect, go be Abuela'a favorite. Go hate me somewhere else. Since I'm so useless, why don't you leave me alone? I know I'm useless, I don't you carving it into my head every time you see me." And she walked away, leaving Isabela standing in shock and drowning in her own anger.

Isabela stomped he way back to Casita, her mind racing with all kinds of hurtful things about her sister. When she sat back down, Dolores shifted away from her, and Abuela asked, "Where is she?" Isabela put on her best face, "She refused to come." Abuela scoffed and muttered that she'd deal with her at dinner. But she didn't come to dinner, her chair stayed empty like it had been all day. Agustin stood and was ready to go find his daughter, but Abuela forbade it. "If she wants to act like a child then let her. We will not tolerate this behavior. She will realize that we will not give in to her and she will come crawling back, then we can discipline her properly. Isabela hoped it was something horrible, like scrubbing Casita top to bottom and piling all the sand in Tio Bruno's room out. Maybe she'd get lost in it. She smiled at the thought, however horrible it may be.

She didn't come back for the rest of dinner, and even when everyone was getting ready for bed, she still did not return home. Julieta's worry only grew, as well as her anger, with her mother's disregard for her missing daughter. "She's probably at a friend's house. She's fine I'm sure." Isabela snorted. Mirabel? Having friends? The idea was laughable. What kind of brain injury or mental problem did someone have to be friends with her? She let out a small chuckle, and Luisa looked down at her, her eyes dark. Isabela waved her off, "It's just a joke, hermanita. Stop being so serious." Luisa kept her gaze firm and angry, "No one else finds you or your jokes funny. You're both mean and heartless." Ad she left. Isabela scoffed and flipped her hair. Sometimes Luisa was just as bad as that giftless brat. She looked over to her mama, who sat by one of the windows, her hands clasped together in worry. 'Stupid brat. Just come home already so we can all go to bed.'

Except she didn't. Pepa and Felix had to drag Julieta and Agustin away from the windows since it was nearing midnight. Abuela looked more irritated than concerned, "that girl." she muttered. "Don't worry, Julieta. She'll be home in the morning, I assure you." Isabela walked to her room after the door to her mother's room closed. "That little brat. She is so ridiculous! Who acts like this? She's such a brat." Isabela flopped onto her bed and groaned into the pillow. Why, out of all the kids her mother had to give birth to, did she have to get stuck with a little sister like her? She know she was wrong to think, but she was annoyed and tired. How stupid was she to stay out this late at night? She knows Abuela will punish her the second she walks through the door.

Isabela turned over and stared at the ceiling. She was hungry. She sighed and rolled out of her bed. 12:00 the clock read. Isabela walked out of her room and rubbed her eyes. Mirabel did nothing but cause problems, and now she had the whole family up in arms with worry because she wanted to stay out late and not let anyone know. It wasn't even that big a deal, all they had to do was ask Dolores where she was, but the little mouse decided to lock herself up in her room and go to bed early. Must be nice to have the easy job.

Isabela stopped. There she was. Mirabel. With two backs strapped to her shoulders and her hands on the doorknob. She didn't know why, but the sight of her sister made her furious. She didn't care that she needed to be quiet, she stomped down the stairs and started screaming. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mirabel whipped around but didn't have enough time to respond before vines circled around her legs and pulled her up into the air. She screamed in terror as everything she was carrying fell to the ground. Her glasses slipped off her face and shattered as they hit the ground. Isabela looked down at the piles of clothes and food and suddenly felt an unreasonable amount of fury. She looked up at Mirabel with wild furious eyes and began screaming again. "What do you think you are doing!? Are you stupid or something? You can't leave you don't get to leave! How selfish can you be?" She continued to scream and shake the terrified fourteen-year-old in the air. Mirabel begged her to let her down, to stop but she didn't.

Isabela then threw her into the air, making her scream in terror before she caught her again b the leg with another vine. "Who do you think you are? Leaving? We are Madrigals! We have a duty to this community, you don't get to abandon it!" Mirabel was weeping, her face wet with tears as Isabela tossed her around the air and caught her over and over again for what felt like forever. "Isabela Maria Rosa Madrigal! You put your sister down this instant!" The sound of Abuea's terrified voice shocked Isabela so much that she retracted the vines completely. And Mirabel fell.

BRO...WHAT. WTF???? WHO DOES THAT 😭😭

Listen, i don't care HOW mad or salty you are, you don't throw your sibling around like that. Like she has NO excuse. And THEN SHE DROPPED MIRABEL??? DAWG HOW YOU GON DROP HER AS WELL...not that she should've yanked her up like that. I can see why Luisa had gotten salty like that earlier, AS SHE SHOULD??? Mirabel leaving. Bro. She was in immense danger, lets be real here ☹️

Isabela better have a damn good apology or we pulling up 💀

[thirtheenprimes]

Worst period cramps in years

Got fired

In the only person on earth who cares about my cat

No one wants to spend time with me in my space

This year in a row I have to pay instead of getting money back from taxes

Taxes didn't even go through last year didn't know that rift it was wired how the federal govt didn't take that money out around April

Bought a different couch last year because I was told she'd spend more time at my house if I had a comfier place to sit, that was a lie

Moved to be closer to my job, then was forced to get a new job

Most of my waking hours are spent at work and the rest I don't have the energy to do things I enjoy

I fucking stuck at DMing

All my life experiences are useless all my knowledge is foundless

Lost my classroom to a better teacher a month ago

Construction in front of my house until April

Trash truck can't get to my house because of construction so I have to take it to the end of the road

Two packages never arrived last year and never will

Starving myself this last no my because the sensation of being hungry is comforting and the thought of cooking/ eating is terrible

My favorite food is expensive as hell at all restraints where I live for no obvious reason

Can't convince the person closest to me to do anything for me without begging

Is rather do everything for myself than feel bad for making someone who obviously doesn't want to help me

Im so good damn alone

I hate my country so much I don't want to have kids anymore

Healthcare sucks

Bigotted Christianity infecting politics/schools/ average citizens' biases/ everything fucking sucks

All of my interests and favorite things are standard 'cringe culture' and are made fun of every time I see them online

Every time I express anger of frustration in the (constant) solitude of my own house my dog thinks I'm mad at her and I feel bad

I have no money but lots of debt

One of the two most important people in my life is a stranger to me now and I can't understand her

My life is going nowhere I'm aroace and I don't want to get married but I don't want to be alone

I want a qpr

I want to live in my friends attic or basement end goal

Nobody wants that though who would want their own life, home, family, etc plus the unattached clingy autistic thing taking up space in their life?

In so tired of living alone

Of living

Of having to be the one to beg people to come over and feeling like I'm running their day for insisting on being in my space

People say they'll come over to my house but they don't do it I have to beg

Only one person actually uses they/them for me and they're so far away

I had a few unsuccessful runs with therapists. One said I have ptsd from childhood and depression

What can they do for me? What's wrong with me is my inability to continue functioning in this shitty fucking imperialist, denial-laden, boot-licking, hateful, capitalist society and what can a therapist do to fix that? Give me mess and say "pretend the world isn't burning"?

What can they do for me in an hour once a month? It would take a year for them to understand my brain enough to tell me something I don't already know. How much money it would cost just to catch a stranger up to speed? Before they'd be useful?

I haven't looked at the stars in so long. In pretty sure that's illegal unless I'm with a school or outreach organization. Parks are closed at night and I can't see shit from my house.

I'm not asking for help. I can't ask for help. I won't ask for help. That's my toxic trait and it's one of the last bits of my life I can control. I feel like I've asked for help so much already, but not directly enough because being told 'yes' and forgotten is so much more painful than being ignored.

No one is really meant to read this but the Narrarator is right, there is a difference between talking to no one and talking to someone who isn't listening. This is me, pretending to talk to someone, when I know this silly little website full of bullying and memes isn't technically anyone.

[astudyinpanda]

Text of monologues below the cut

How long we hang on, how far we get, how many of us make it out, all of that is now up to us. […] Wherever you are right now, get up, stop the work. Get out of your cells, take charge, and start climbing. […] We will never have a better chance than this and I would rather die trying to take them down than giving them what they want. We know they fried a hundred men on Level Two. We know that they are making up our sentences as we go along. We know that no one outside here knows what's happening. And now we know that when they say we are being released, we are being transferred to some other prison to go die and that ends today! There is one way out. Right now, the building is ours. You need to run, climb, kill! You need to help each other. You see someone who's confused, someone who is lost, you get them moving and you keep them moving until we put this place behind us. There are 5,000 of us. If we can fight half as hard as we've been working, we will be home in no time. One way out!

Calm. Kindness. Kinship. Love. I've given up all chance at inner peace. I've made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there's only one conclusion: I'm damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they've set me on a path from which there is no escape. I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time I looked down there was no longer any ground beneath my feet. What is my sacrifice? I'm condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else's future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I'll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude. So what do I sacrifice? Everything!

There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy. Remember this: Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions, that have no idea that they've already enlisted in the cause. Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward. And then remember this: The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that. And know this, the day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance, will have flooded the banks of the Empire's authority and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege. Remember this. Try.

I want you to go on. I want Ferrix to continue. In my waning hours, that's what comforts me most. But I fear for you. We've been sleeping. We've had each other, and Ferrix, our work, our days. We had each other, and they left us alone. We kept the trade lanes open, and they left us alone. We took their money and ignored them, we kept their engines churning, and the moment they pulled away, we forgot them. Because we had each other. We had Ferrix. But we were sleeping. I've been sleeping. And I've been turning away from the truth I wanted not to face. There is a wound that won't heal at the center of the galaxy. There is a darkness reaching like rust into everything around us. We let it grow, and now it's here. It's here, and it's not visiting anymore. It wants to stay. The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness, it is never more alive than when we sleep. It's easy for the dead to tell you to fight, and maybe it's true, maybe fighting is useless. Perhaps it's too late. But I'll tell you this… If I could do it again, I'd wake up early and be fighting these bastards… from the start. Fight the Empire!

@pscentral​ event 10: best of 2022 ↳ the monologues from ANDOR (Season 1) | images source: Andor: Concept Art Gallery

[fakinbaconpancakes]

Lay of the land

Here are the current state of affairs as I best see them. This may be a list of grievances or turn into a to-do list.

I live daily with a mild physical disability. It's annoying an painful and I won't further expand on it this time. I'm tired of telling the story.

In two days, my employment at the place that pays me is terminated. These were company-wide layoffs, about 30-40%, in a field where industry-wide layoffs have been going for over a year. I got notice at the beginning of July, so my summer has been essentially ruined.

Also at the start of July, one of my parents had a partial stroke. As part of that fun disability of mine, I've spent enough time with stoke victims to have nothing but sympathy. And for my parent, I'm watching age and that mental hit put them on the road to the grave. I'll have more on this at another time.

As soon to be unemployed, I feel like I'm in starvation mode. I'm not spending any money for things excessive. Two vacations canceled. No going out. Bare bones home cooking. Every purchase scrutinized.

I am job searching but have definitely lost the passion. I spent 20 years being hands on and the past 3 years managing. Finding a new job potentially means going back to hands-on. But I think my hands-on days are behind me. That makes 20 years of experience basically useless. Sobering thought.

I am looking at alternatives to being part of the workforce again. Particularly going back to school for a doctorate. I've done the research, filled out the applications, got the transcripts, wrote the essays, and now I wait. With my recent termination, I am only expecting more rejection.

With now being September and school just starting, I would not start a program for another 11 months. I need to find an income stream. With jobs in my chosen field elusive, maybe part time. But more focused on day trading.

With no steady income stream, I have to move out of my apartment. I have an open invitation to move back in with my parents. So now I plan for packing and moving the excessive objects in my life to another state and figuring out where to put them all. The logistics are something else.

I'm really at a crossroads on how I want to live the rest of my life. I guess this would be a mid-life crisis for my 45 year-old self, single, unemployed, no direction or motivation, going back to live with my parents. Pretty pathetic, right? Definitely not to plan.

But what if getting laid off was the catalyst I needed to make a radical change that could support me for the foreseeable future? I have the smallest of hopes that I could pull it off.

[eternalnight8806-3]

I just need to vent...

I'm not looking for sympathy or handouts or anything like that. I just need to get my feelings out somewhere I know my family won't see it because they don't know any of this.

I have a forced judgment on me from a creditor. I have another that is still in the system, but it will probably be decided on soon. My home is in the foreclosure process. My homeowner's insurance dropped me 2 months ago, so I dont have insurance on my house. I don't currently have a job and haven't since December. My boyfriend's job is fucking with his hours, not giving him full time and making him work hours he didn't agree to while also paying him basically nothing. They treat him like garbage while expecting him to carry the store, even though he's not management. They claim his work isn't up to par while allowing others to get away with literally sitting on their ass doing absolutely nothing. Oh, and they get full time hours.

The tiny shred of hope we have is that I have a lead on a possible job, but I have no clue when I could start or if it's even guaranteed. My boyfriend has a lead on a possible new job, but again, no clue when that could start or if it's even going to happen.

If I can atleast get a job, then I have hope through bankruptcy to save my house and clear these creditors. But I have to have a job first.

I'm so tired of being poor. I'm so tired of worrying about money every second of the day. I'm so tired of not knowing if I'll have a roof over my head tomorrow. I'm so tired of wondering when I'll get that knock on the door or letter in the mail telling me my home isn't mine anymore. I'm so tired of shitty capitalist corporations and this fucking country. I'm so tired of fighting a corrupt system that doesn't care about anyone who isn't the 1%. I'm so tired of life.

Part of me really just wants everything to end. My life insurance would atleast pay off the house and possibly my other debts as well, or atleast a good portion of them. But we all know life insurance won't pay out for self deleters. So, all I can do is hope that something unalives me, or hope a miracle happens before it's too late. Neither seem probable.

So here I am, trying not to completely break down under the weight of all this stress and it feels impossible. I feel myself cracking more and more each day. I feel the weight get heavier. I feel my mind slipping more and more into those dark places, wondering if it truly would be best for everyone if I just wasn't around anymore.

I don't have anyone. My family can't be trusted with this information. I've lost every single person I considered my friend. The only person I have is my boyfriend, but I don't know if he even still wants me. That's a separate issue, though.

I'm truly just a useless piece of garbage doing nothing but wasting space and resources that someone else could be using. Literally everyone in my life would be better off if I wasn't around anymore. Most of them wouldn't even notice I was gone. Even if they did, it would barely register as a blip to them. Honestly, they would probably think I was inconveniencing them even in death because they would have to deal with my body and property.

I'm worthless scum. Period. I truly wish something would just put me out of my misery because I'm not capable of doing it myself.

Seriously, don't bother trying to act like you care. I know none of you do. 99.99% of you didn't even read this post and the ones who did don't give a flying fuck. That's reality.

[judaschair]

massive train of thought, just need to get it out:

i still don’t know what to do about work like everything has a pro and a con i want to work in my department so bad but if that means the next two weeks are gonna effect my mental heath that much its not worth it not only is there no way of knowing if ill be kept on the tema after the season i still don’t know when ill be moving i don’t understand why there are no jobs hiring that need my skill set i thought no one wanted to work so where the fuck are the job applications huh this all feels like a punch in the face i am a good worker i love organizing but for some reason these jobs knowing that keep taking me out of positions i they’ve in only to put me in a spot where i don’t do well so it stresses me out i am in such a life shift right now but i feel like im stuck in the past living in the house i did in high school and working a job i took during my first gap year i keep leaving but then i get scared and go right back to what i know i love upstate new york but i can’t stay here any longer i feel like every day is the same the only days i feel like things are different or could change is when im out of town or super high i just don’t get anything right now i need to start working towards my career but working 33 hours a week is not giving me enough time to do this the only time i feel like myself is when i have artistic things going on which is why i work in the makeup store in the first place i know no one wants to work a meaningless job but i can’t mentally make myself do this i have to get that stupid degree even though god i don’t want to go back to college moving to vegas and studying there sounds so scary but i need to do something anywhere i really want to study is out of reach due to money i wish i didn’t worry about it so much my mom is telling me she would rather me work on my art and volunteer before i leave but then i have no money to create the art or go anywhere or do anything looking for a job seems useless because no one in walking distance is hiring i still can’t drive an di can’t even start to learn until i move because its snowing here and im already so scared to drive i really don’t think ice will make me feel better i wish i could have done so many things differently so many things i did could have been prevented if i just grew the fuck up i fully think this all leads back to me not being in the same mind set as my peers i haven’t had my first kiss i hadn’t smoked weed until i was twenty one i didn’t party until i was 21 and i feel so behind i feel like im still in high school it wasn’t even covid like so many other people i was in college when covid hit and the fall semester of 2020 i was fully in person i don’t know what to do to fix this i know i need to see someone but i can’t get into a therapist or anything the only way to get pushed up on a waitlist is to go to the hospital but i am trying to avoid that at all costs i literally don’t know what to do i feel like leaving this job on such bad terms is self destructive but i can’t keep doing this i dropped out in september because of a mental breakdown and everyone in my family is acting like that didn’t happen like im being dramatic now i can’t physical tell them what is going on in my head because dear lord i hate crying and being vulnerable its gross to me and makes me want to puke i just feel so lost i need to start over every time i say that someone says you go everywhere with yourself and like i get that but i need a new environment i can’t keep feeling like this forever or forever isn’t gonna be very long i might be delusional but i dint think i want that much out of life all i want is a tiny one bedroom aparentemente with my dog a job in the field im studying and a car so i can travel and see new things that is so much less than what the stupid american dream promised i truly feel like none of that will ever happen when i see the future its black there is nothing there i dont see a way to get out of this and i have no way of getting the resources to see a way out of this im not even gonna lie if i didn’t like my family

and if i didn’t have my dog i would not even be writing this but i feel so trapped i don’t know what to do i feel like im always letting people down because i know what i can do i know what i want to do and i feel like no one sees my vision i had originally wanted to use social media to work my way up but i’ve grown to hate it i’ve grown to despise tik tok and the constant shelling out for products the ramped consumerism its all making me sick i dont want to have to promot myself online what even happened to hanging up posters for shows what happened to word of mouth what happened to small bands playing local places its a thing that has been pushed out of small towns and now its only in the cities as much as i love my small town life i can’t do this i need community maybe that’s what im having an issue with outside of school i have no one i am alone i can’t get to anywhere my friends are like i could in nyc or both portlands that’s why im trying to head to vegas start new they have a growing punk scene and a weird amount of goths i feel like im always between things i feel like i can’t build a commingle here because i dont see a life for myself here i want to go somewhere where i can grow with a community why would i build a name for myself somewhere and then leave that’s where im at god im just so sick of everything and how everything works the theme of this is that im confused and i dont know what to do i feel so lost so alone and i am making myself sick with all of this shit when i was little i wanted to be a pop star because i knew i was already an artist i want to be creative i want to show the world i can do anything i can be the next great but i dont see a world where that type of figure exists i know now success is easier to get but stars are gone anyone can be famous in a corner i feel like no one is gonna have lasting power too much over saturation of a market so much nostalgia bait god i just want it to stop i want to the world to stop for five fucking seconds so we can catch up fuck covid fuck working fuck having no rights i just dont understand anything i want to learn i want to succeed but it feels so out of reach nothing seems possible i dont understand how people my age have degrees have kids whats so wrong with me that i can’t get there why am i the one having issues did being poor not hinder me enough there are so many what ifs that could lead me to never being able to support myself so many things can be pulled out from under me fuck im so fucking lost i have to quit that job i have to put everything i can into my art but how will i support myself until i move how will i have money for the move what am i gonna do i want to cry saving money isn’t something poor people get to do its just not i want to bash my head against a wall until it all stops i can eat i feel so sick all i want to do is to disappear for this go away fro a while and come back when things feel more hopeful when things feel light again no matter what i am in new york until february and i dont know what to do to make the most of this maybe i do need to take the time to not work but that puts such a burden on everyone im gonna delete instagram from my phone like i did with tiktok and try to focus on doing what i want with less outside  influences FUCK as im deleting it i see someone who went to a school i dropped out of photographed lana damnit i know they aren’t my age but like come on i just feel so stuck so trapped in an echo chamber everyone i know agrees with me which i get and i appraise but fuck we all need a back bone im gonna delete my youtube make a new one seek out new stuff im just so over this i need to clean out everything i can start as new as i can now delete emails re edit my pinterest boards go thought who im following and unfollow people i need to make this clean and correct and what i want god what the hell im just so ahhhhhhhhhh maybe i will go on to be a famous photographer maybe ill become a teacher maybe ill go into tattooing maybe ill be a curator maybe ill own a little record store maybe ill go to beauty

school maybe at school i’ll find my twin flame not in the cult way by the way and my whole life will change maybe maybe maybe i just dont know okay let me just write what i WANT to do as of this moment i want to work on my art and move out west the only reason i want to stay at my job is because i like my department and the people i work with also money is nice but i can always apply to makeup store in vegas once i learn how to drive i think of everything as per in it even though nothing is minus my tattoos still waiting to regret one when i get to vegas i wont be able to bring my dog for a little which really hurts especially because she is sleeping so cute next to me i have had to leave her for a coupes months before and i know she loves my mom and grandma but i know she misses me when i have to leave god it makes me feel like shit but ill look for a job in waking distance from my aunts place and if i can’t find one ill have to take the scary bus but who knows i’ll work PART TIME not this 33 hours a week that is more than i was in school in nyc that is not part time to me and ill see if my aunt will tech me to drive and once im a little better behind the wheel we can get me a driving teacher from there i will stay in vegas for six months to become a nevada citizen and the go to unlv for fine arts i want to be in school i want to learn i want this degree because the more im forced into the real world the more i learn that in order to be taken seriously you need a degree hopefully my grandparents or mom will move out there like planned and i can pay rent to them them so i can have a stable place and be able to have my dog with that ill start saving for a car and then my own place if my other family doesn’t join i want to work on getting into the vegas scene not only art but music i can start shooting underground shows like i did in new york im sure someone in vegas needs weird photography maybe i could get a job photographing at some tourist trap or wedding chapel i could find someone to learn to tattoo under or maybe someone will take me on as a photo appurtenance god i need to work on my art i haven’t had a single good shoot idea since starting my job im just so focused on what i could do at work what is there to tidy and what new products feel like i want to work somewhere that i dont dream about somewhere that doesn’t cause me so much stress that it makes me physically sick but i feel like im letting down my meager there she has been begging for me to come back since i had to quit to go to school this whole thing has made me so fucking upset i mean of course im writing this install long nonsense piece on my tumblr blog in the year 2023 like of course im upset i just dont know what’s left i have such big dreams but at the same time i feel like those dreams are wasted and i dont have time to do anything im sick of doom and gloom i want to be happy i want to feel normal i want to be just like other girls i want to fall in love i want a home i want a fulfilling job i want the life i know i deserve.