#getting a bad cold at the start of the year and my supervisor literally yelling at me for being sick

[deansbipanic]

why is life sooo *bangs head against table repeatedly*

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

.

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

.

Continued in part 6!

[tintinnabulary]

Archeron Ambrosia

Chapter Three

AN: Thank you all for the amazing support you’ve given me the last two chapters! Here’s another one that I wrote, and hopefully I’ll start posting a chapter every Friday. Luckily, I think the scene is finally fully set and developed, so from here forward I’ll be doing cute (and maybe eventually smutty???) goodness for you all to enjoy!

Don’t forget to comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged in any of the future chapters!

Masterlist

Feyre readjusted her heavy backpack on her shoulder as she glanced down at the directions Nesta had given her to get from Velaris University to the new storefront they had been working on for weeks. While working at a bakery was never the plan for her life, Feyre was quite content being a cake decorator--and equally glad her capstone supervisor, Alis, let her turn in photographs of her cakes as part of her artist portfolio.

Feyre heard a male voice calling her name in the distance and picked up her pace. Since starting her final year at VU last semester, another student named Tamlin had been trying to ask her out and learn more about her. At first, it was flattering having someone take such a keen interest in her. But then the obsessive behavior became more and more alarming, and Feyre had no doubt it was his voice calling out after her. Not wanting to be so easy to catch up to, Feyre ducked down a side road and began zig-zagging her way through businesses. Her heart rate picked up as she heard his steps pick up on the concrete behind her.

Feyre quickly diverted to the main road, and saw the bakery a few blocks down on the side. As she looked over her shoulder to gauge her distance from Tamlin, she ran right into a stranger. Without thinking, Feyre blurted out, “Pretend you know me, please.”

Feyre looked at the stranger, who’s beauty struck her near speechless, and noticed his violet eyes looked at her, flickered over her shoulder, then hardened slightly which didn’t match the smile that sprung up on his face. He threw his arm around Feyre’s shoulders, then loudly declared, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” He winked down at her, equal parts flirty and conspiratorial. He glanced at the paper in her hands, his smile seeming to turn a tad more genuine. “I was supposed to walk you to the bakery. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Confusion clouded Feyre’s eyes eyes before settling into the role he had built. “You were late. I had to get to work. Couldn’t be late on my first real shift.”

“Well, I’m sure Elain would understand.”

Fear coursed through Feyre’s veins. How did he know her sister’s name? Did she just get herself into a worse situation with this stranger? He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “Calm down. I met her earlier today. I work next door. I’ll explain later when this guy leaves.” Feyre nodded slightly, placing a smile back on her face and relaxing slightly.

At that moment, Tamlin caught up with Feyre, his eyes setting into a cold, hard stare at the mystery stranger.

“Hello, lovely day isn’t it?” the stranger said, a playful and dangerous smile adorning his face.

Feyre tried to match the man’s smile and tone when she said, “Hey Tamlin, This is my boyfriend.”

“Rhysand.” He held out his hand. Tamlin stared at it before crossing his arms and looking at Feyre.

“How come I’ve never heard of him before?” The smug look he wore, like he caught Feyre in a trap, made her want to punch him.

“Because I like to keep my life private, Tamlin. Now, is there a reason you’re here, or can I finish my walk to work?”

Tamlin fumed, but spun on his heel, walking away as Rhysand yelled, “Nice to meet you!” at his retreating form, shit-eating grin on his face.

Feyre spun out from under his arm, grumbling a “thanks,” then continued walking towards the bakery.

“ Hey wait,” it didn’t take long for Rhysand’s long legs to catch up to her. “You work at Archeron Ambrosia, right?” Feyre only glanced up at him. “Your sister, Elain. She came by my our shop and brought a cookie sampler tray. They were delicious. Did you make them?”

Feyre snorted. “No. I just decorate them. Nesta does all the baking.”

“I didn’t meet her. She’s another sister?”

“Yeah. The oldest.” Feyre stopped outside the bakery. “So I take it you work at,” she looked around Rhysand to see the sign, “Illyrian Inscribed?”

“It’s a tattoo shop.” Rhysand shrugged, placing his hands into his pockets. “I own it with my two brothers, Cassian and Azriel. And my cousin Mor works the front desk. So, if you ever want to get some work done, I’d be happy to give it to you.”

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Feyre smiled at him, then moved towards the door, running into a shaggy haired man leaving the store, smile lighting up his face. “Oh! I’m sorry. The second person I’ve run into today.”

“Speak of the devil.” Rhysand smirked. “This is my brother, Cassian. Cassian, this is Feyre. She works at the bakery too with her sisters.”

“Hi.”

“Hey! Your sister, Nesta, she’s a firecracker.” Cassian ran a hand through his hair, “I hope you’re not as tough.”

Feyre laughed, “No, she’s the toughest of us all. I’m a nice, middle of the road kind of girl.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow at that, and Cassian roared with laughter. “Good, good. I’m glad this little place has moved in next door. I think it’s going to make things quite interesting.” Elain came rushing out of the tattoo shop, blush coloring her face, as she rushed past the group and into the shop. “Very interesting.”

“And on that note,” Feyre declared, adjusting her backpack again. “I’ll see you guys around.” Feyre moved towards the door.

“See you around, Feyre darling.” Feyre looked at him, where he returned the wink, and she scoffed and entered the bakeshop.

“Oh man,” Cassian laughed, clapping a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder. “We are in trouble. Let’s go find out what Az did that made that little doe-eyed girl turn so red.”

~~~~

Feyre walked into the shop, bells jingling, and moved behind the counter. She set her backpack in a small storage area beneath the cash register, tossed her directions into the trash, and began putting on her black and blue night sky themed half-apron. Hearing voices from the back, Feyre made her way into the back to see Elain talking animatedly, blush still adorning her cheeks, and Nesta calmly measuring cream and butter into a large electric mixer.

“And he stood so close to me, and reached around to grab a cookie. It was so intimidating. He was so tall and mysterious and handsome and I just don’t think I can ever go over there again!”

“Who are we talking about?”

Both heads whipped up at Feyre, then relaxed. “Azriel! Az? I don’t know what to call him. He works next door at the tattoo shop.”

“Oh yeah. I met Rhysand and Cassian on my way here. They both seemed nice.”

“And handsome.” Elain sighed. “How are all three of them so attractive? That really isn’t fair. Or real. Real life is not full of men that devastatingly beautiful.”

“You can say that again.” Nesta mumbled.

“What was that Nes?” Feyre asked, smirk firmly in place.

“Nothing.”

“I saw you met Cassian. He said you’re a firecracker. Started ballbusting right from the get go?”

“He needed to be knocked down a few pegs.” Nesta blew at a strand of hair that was falling into her face. “Coming in here with all that swagger and confidence like I’d just throw my panties at him” She blew another breath at the strand. “That’s probably what he expects from all of the girls.” A third frustrated breath had Elain coming over and tucking the strand behind her ear. “Thanks.”

“No problem. That’s the first guy to ruffle your feathers though, Nesta.”

“He ruffled nothing.”

“Well, Azriel ruffled something with me.” Elain laughed, and Feyre joined in.

“Well, Rhysand came in like a knight in shining armor, saved me from that awful guy Tamlin that I haven’t been able to shake. I literally ran into him on my walk home.”

“That’s just like a romance novel” Elain sighed. “Three of us, three of them. Triple dates?” Elain perked up, and Feyre laughed at the face Nesta made.

“Elain, you might be jumping ahead. You might want to work on a conversation with the guy before you plan your children’s names.”

“Or,” Nesta interjected, “We could focus on all of the cakes we have to make. And making sure this business succeeds. And not worry about what the people next door are doing.”

“Nesta,” Feyre leaned on the counter. “They have a successful business. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to talk to them about what they’re doing to get business in this little corner of the city.”

Elain leaned next to her, “And if you happened to get a date out of it, would that be so bad?” She batted her doe eyes at Nesta, and Feyre burst into laughter. Nesta’s face scrunched up and she leaned across the counter, facing her two sisters.

“Would you two please, for the love of the Mother, get to work on your decorations?” The two burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright.” Feyre stood up, and moved towards her airbrush kits in the back corner of the room. “Elain, let me know when you’re ready for me to paint those fondant flowers you’ve got for the Spring Court cake, and I’ll work on the wood patterning on this cake for Mrs. Alias’s party. I’ve got to get it right since it’s the first in my portfolio she’s going to see up close and personal.”

“Fine.” Elain grabbed a slab of fondant out of the industrial fridge and slapped it on the counter. “But we’re not done talking about a triple date.”

“We’ll talk about it when you can hold a conversation with the guy.” Nesta said, blowing hair out of her face as she poured her batter into cake pans.

Tag List:  @tragically-broken, @bluephoenix222,  @alicethelonerabbit,  @court-of-fandoms-and-art

[echo-espresso]

small little life update:

I don’t know if anyone will pay attention to this, or if anyone who is still an active follower even knows me IRL or CARES but whatever im happy and I don’t have too many outlets for all this good shit in my life

I moved in April, away from an abusive man and to a new city that felt just safe enough, and just new enough. I hid where I was going from him. He doesn’t know, not to my knowledge anyways. I started work at Starbucks, a company I’ve had experience with since I was 17. A real corporate starbucks this time, I’m a partner, with the free bag of coffee a week and free drinks and food, it’s a nice deal. I was thrilled on this new adventure, everyone at the store was so warm and welcoming, I found comradere with the closing staff most of all. It was a nice environment, we all bonded over weed and nerdy things, bullshit customers and relationship problems.

 And there was a ~boy~. JM. Okay, not boy. Man, full grown human man ten years my senior with blue hair and a zelda beanie and who was the most helpful and patient with me. I work in a rough part of the city. When I tell family and friends where my location is, their eyes widen. One of the best part of being a closer is that my closing crew takes no shit. They all made me feel incredibly safe, especially this ~JM~. I started getting excited when I saw him on the schedule with me. He was brand new, a far stretch from my normal type. Friendly and outgoing and incredibly smart and had this crazy cool life experiences. Protective in a very casual way, offering to walk me to my car when I’d clock out and nervously look at the dark parking lot. He casually called me beautiful, and everytime we’d work together, we’d end up just finding dozens and dozens of things in common, from weird personality traits, bad habits, our cat obsession. We ended up texting constantly, sharing music and bad relationship stories. I knew immediatley I would end up close to this JM person in some capacity. 

Aside from work, my life outside of it was awkward. I didn’t know many people here, aside from one close friend. I spent most off days in my apartment binge watching netflix, too broke to do much else. Every day I worked though I looked forward to it. People at work liked me, I was new but I knew plenty already, could bar with confidence and speed, had all of the product knowledge stored in my head to help customers. I was fast, always found something to do. 

JM opened up to me about his life. He’s a writer, like me, and was sharing pieces he’d written late in the night. At work, JM sung a lot, mostly doing dishes, mostly to himself. He told me it was to block out the bad memories. JM toured in Iraq with the US Navy, he was a medic. He likely has severe PTSD. He told me he sings to drown out the thoughts, that he sometimes forgets where he is, even at work. The singing annoyed some coworkers. After he told me that, it just worried me. I’d go to the back to make sure he was okay, which he seemed touched by. The pieces he wrote were haunting pictures of life during war. The violence he saw, participated in, and experienced is like nothing I could imagine. He shared stories with me he hadn’t told any other person. I did the same. He was a vault, a secret keeper, and so was I. We lived in eachother’s confidence, and found an inexplicable incredible amount of trust with one another. We both bore our own scars of trauma. 

The moment I decided he was special was when he told me a story about him in the Navy. One of my best friends growing up, Taylor, was also in the Navy. In 2015, my friend Taylor jumped off the boat she was stationed on. I cried for weeks. JM told me, not knowing about her, that he’d planned to do that same thing, years ago, standing on the side of the boat in the middle of the night. Something convinced him not to. 

He started cooking for me, bringing me food to eat on my lunch. When he got a horrible head cold, I brought him pho and nyquil. We started taking care of eachother, because nobody had taken care of us in a while. 

It was evident he was interested in me. My friend Julie met him and as soon as we left she told me “he is in love with you Abbi. Like full blown in love with you.” And despite my best efforts to remain professional, I couldn’t stop what was happening. At one point in the back room he was helping me grab something on a top shelf, and touched the small of my back, and my whole body went numb. I’d catch myself staring at him, memorizing his mannerisms. I’d notice the curve of his collar bone, the bulk in his arms. At one point in the back room the bottom of his shirt lifted and he had taught stomach muscles that made me turn bright red. Whenever I’d walk on a shift he’d yell “YAS” with such genuine glee. I started hanging out at his apartment, his roommate also works with us. We went to middle of the night carne asada fries, he gave me weed, we watched movies on his couch. He finally told me he planned to pursue me. I finally told him he needed to be patient. So he was. 

One night, he texted me that he needed me to come over. He couldn’t be alone, and his roommate was working late. He was shaky, tearful. Work had been bad, he’d snapped at a supervisor. The triggers had been getting more numerous. I listened to him on his porch, rubbing his back while he chain smoked cigarettes. He calmed eventually, I offered to take him to get food. After he was calm, he wouldn’t stop thanking me, telling me I was amazing. A few more days passed.

I’d had a bad day, one day, early summer. We were sitting on his couch, his arm around me pretty casual. It was me that broke the rule, that kissed him first. I was pretty forward, once I want someone I really want them. I asked him if I could stay over. He didn’t push sex on me, in fact we just slept in the same bed, his arms around me. But it was the best I’d slept in years, despite his apartment being 90 degrees. 

JM and I went to yosemite that day. We smoked weed on the drive up, listened to music with the windows down. Sat underneath the giant trees. The best part about he and I is we talk so easily. There’s never an awkward pause, just a constant cadence of conversation and joking. 

We joke now, 4 months later, that JM came over to my apartment and never left. He is my constant, my surprise addition to my life here. Nobody takes better care of me. He helps me with my bills, he is inexplicably not grossed out by most things. I wake up every morning to him telling me how beautiful I am. It’s literally the first thing he says to me, everyday. We cook for eachother, we explore the world around us. We never have a dull moment when we’re together, we make every day amazing even on our brokest, saddest days. It’s the first time I’ve had a relationship where there’s a realistic future. Which terrifies me. He makes everything so easy. I had a different picture for my life when I moved here, but this version is so much better. 

TL: DR???? 

IDK. I’m happy and in love and that’s the story.

[cosmosogler]

not sure what to do right now.

today was really bad... not because anything particularly bad happened (other than i got back my e&m test and it had... comments on it), but because i just really didn’t feel good emotionally. i just felt like doing nothing all day and didn’t get ANY work done at all.

like literally none.

we saw the ligo update during classical at least... and he moved the assignment back to wednesday. so i have one more day to dick around before i have to turn in whatever i have.

not going to have a lot of time tomorrow but we’ll see how that goes.

during my lunch break i went down to check out the lab but the students and professor seemed to be on lunch break. i arranged a meeting time over email after that instead. so i’ll be checking it out tomorrow after my office hour.

after quantum i holed up in suzanne’s office and got sick after trying to eat the pasta salad i made on sunday. i’d say that was a flop. it just didn’t have very good materials for being recooked i think. beans don’t handle being dehydrated and rehydrated as well as other stuff maybe. i’ll try a different brand next time.

during my office hour i really wanted to grade but then i just didn’t. i wanted to check something real quick, and then it was an hour later and my student showed up for the meeting with my supervisor. 

i felt really, really bad telling the student i wasn’t really in much control over their situation or how much help they got. i had a nervous very fake smile plastered on my face and i just didn’t know what to say at all. i hated it. i wanted to solve everything but i didn’t have the answers. and it was also so, so hard to focus on the conversation. half the time i straight up didn’t understand what the words meant when the supervisor was talkin. i had trouble standing up the right way. i wanted to fall asleep.

so i felt stupid and slow the rest of the day after that. while i was back in suzanne’s office very specifically not doing any grading or homework i talked to harrison a little bit about how he was doing since i noticed his jokes were getting very dark. i don’t remember much else about that 40 minutes. we talked about something that i enjoyed... i was trying to tell a few stories from high school and i didn’t get through a single one. i kept getting interrupted and eventually i just bellowed something like “WELL AT LEAST YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO HEAR THAT PUN, BECAUSE WHEN I GET CONSTANTLY INTERRUPTED NONE OF MY JOKES CAN LAND. SO YOU GOT SPARED.” jennica yelled back and leaned way in and i told her to get out of my face but she took it good-naturedly. 

e&m sucked. straight up. i got my test back. 9/30. nothing i do matters at all. i could do nothing but study physics for a year straight and still fail a basic quiz. 

ok, well, studying with suzanne and john meant i got one more point on the test than last time. 

i could get a perfect score on every quiz for the rest of the semester and the final and still only pass with a c+. i don’t know what to do. the grad advisor sent me an email about one of the professors who’s available for some tutoring. i sent her an email asking when she could meet.

while the class was going, instead of taking any notes, i stared at the floor, or blankly stared at the professor. i felt like i had never seen him before, and also never seen a blackboard before. i thought about what would happen if i dropped out. nothing good. i don’t want to do that. i don’t know what would happen to snoopy. or my savings. or really anything.

i felt like i had always been in that room for a million years but also like i had never existed in the first place. i felt like this is just what my life is like now. i move and get punched in the gut no matter which direction i step in. but i can’t just stand still. it doesn’t matter what tools i equip myself with. it always comes down to getting socked until my appendix explodes or something i don’t know where else to take that metaphor.

i hate this. i hate feeling stupid. retarded. you know. like mom said i am. after class i sat in my chair quietly while my classmates talked about where to get dinner before their class met for the second time today in preparation for the e&m midterm. i hate that i have a good week and then i spend the next three weeks being unable to think straight, or talk normal, or basically do anything school related. and then i get behind AND out of practice and i have to spend my good week playing catch up until i’m so exhausted that my depression gets bad again for three weeks. and also i get sick and i’m still sick and it’s been a month since this cold/flu thing started and i’m still coughing hard and sick and retching and i get sick every time i eat before 2 in the afternoon. and my nose is always stuffy and my face is scratchy and scabbed and healing too slow.

the cut doesn’t look as bad today and also isn’t as rough or raised from inflammation or whatever. so it’s healing. just... slowly. my surgical incisions still have that sort of raised bumpy quality that means they got more healing to do.

the surgeon said the incisions shouldn’t leave scars. but they’re still so... raw looking. not off-color in any way, just... sore. i get phantom habit pains whenever i jam something directly into my side where the largest incision is. it’s right near my elbow level so i just have things around that height at all times. trying to hold boxes, door knobs, stuff like that.

“tired” isn’t really the right word to be using. but it’s, like, the closest thing i got. weary. irritable. consumed. haggard.

i played a round of smash bros with keegan and harrison and we showed soham how to play. the controller i picked up was gunky and dusty and the a and b buttons were not responsive. there was something really disorienting about pressing buttons that are practically second nature and expecting something to happen and getting nothing and then running directly off the edge because my character didn’t stop to do the charge attack like i wanted.

hash tag relatable. 

after that we went to relish for dinner. i biked over there. it didn’t take long at all. i got shunted off to a table by myself though because they were only set for four people and we had five. i had trouble hearing the conversation. the burger was good at least. but it was hard to participate, and then they all had to leave so quickly for their review session. i biked home and almost got hit by a car at a stop sign. 

i guess i forgot that the stop sign is only there for one direction and not the other two.

i wanted to grade when i got home but instead of that, i goofed off and did nothing for three hours! then it was 9:00!! so i checked my comics!!! 

one of them updated and it Fueled me. i wish i had someone to talk to about it. feels weird trying to describe it or recommend it to anyone though. 

i’m kind of stuck in a bind there because on the one hand i hate sharing stuff that i find personally important. i hate sharing stuff that actually matters for real. but i also really like some stuff and think other people would like it too and i would like to like it together and be a little happier or maybe introduce someone to something that touches them. asher liked jojo way more than i thought he would and that was basically the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

it’s just risky is all. sharing stuff that doesn’t matter is... less dangerous. describing my day. stuff i did. how i feel. embarrassing times i got whacked in the face or whatever.

but stuff that matters? things that i hold close and think about every day? what i love? 

i dunno. sharing that is scary. here i am only vaguely alluding to this comic that’s basically consumed my feelings and tears for like 6 months straight. i check it every day. 

i know it’s not exactly my situation but it just... i dunno. reminds me of my childhood in a kind of way. i was alone though.

i think... maybe besides asher. or maybe even jim. really private thoughts. my favorite things ever. poetry. the last time i shared anything that really mattered was with craig.

well, we all know how that went.

at 9:20 after letting myself feel an emotion for once i got started grading. three hours after i wanted to start. i could have finished. but i didn’t do that! i didn’t even watch youtube videos or ANYTHING! i listened to one song a lot and i’ve learned it pretty well. i’d like to play it on the piano sometime if i could find any sheet music simplifying an extremely busy, textured piece haha.

at least i remembered to wear my reading glasses for a little while... my head doesn’t hurt as badly as it could have.

but instead of finishing my grading i got through like 6 pages. out of 180 that i need to have done by tomorrow. 540 by thursday.

i’m not going to have it done by tomorrow. or thursday. then my midterm is on friday and we’re all terrified. during our quantum review this morning the professor told us to focus on “math and physics” and then summarized everything we’ve learned in the class so far. Very Rude.

well. guess i need to at least finish this round of pages before bed. i want to keep writing... it’s not that i don’t express myself honestly around other people. i just don’t express myself. i guess. genuinely. fully. i don’t know. 

oz is very open. i enjoy talking to him. we both just seem to have so little time or energy. and i am very afraid of, yet again, being Just Too Much. 

right now i don’t want to do anything but cry. 

last night when i laid in bed to sleep my back and hips started really hurting, like cramping up, like when i lay flat on my stomach playing my gameboy or reading a book for too long and try to sit up. i reached around to touch my back and maybe find what was hurting so bad and i realized that, just, my entire back hurts. every muscle from the sides all the way around the back. touching the muscles back there felt like jabbing my fingers directly into a bruise and i wanted to die because it didn’t stop hurting even after i stopped touching anything. 

i’m too scared to think about getting a massage or anything like that. my scarring is so extensive on my right side... that and i just don’t like situations that are supposed to be relaxing. can’t stand hot tubs unless i’m just dicking around with my cousins. immediately suspicious of “relaxing voices.” except bob ross. that guy was legit. mostly because he was focused on painting and having a good time making his art. in group therapy back in spring we discussed asmr. makes me feel nauseous and grody. i only touch aromatherapy when i’m absolutely by myself and i basically dunk my pillows in lavender. doesn’t help me sleep though. 

AND SLEEPING? GOD!!!!!!!!!! I CAN’T DO THAT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IF SOMEONE GRABS ME???????? IT’S HAPPENED MORE THAN ONCE.

i don’t like people touching me. can you imagine, laying on your stomach around someone you don’t know and you can’t see them directly while they get their hands all over you and make weird noises that other people find soothing but you just find to be false advertising? 

but i don’t know what to do about my back. it hurts to lay down. my jaw hurts all the time. it is never not sore and tender. my shoulders are basically bricks.

i feel like i’m never going to get any better than this. i can’t change any more. i’m not good enough. i can’t keep doing this.

something good... i can’t think of anything. 

i wasn’t even really that frustrated when i yelled about getting interrupted for the five thousandth time. it seemed like the funniest thing to do in that specific situation. standing up for myself is only easy when it’s funny! no wonder no one can take me seriously. 

i gotta teach tomorrow. i guess that’s something. i really care about how my students are doing in their studies. at least, i hope i care. it’s hard to remember what it feels like sometimes, what to call that feeling. i try to be more “big sister” than “mom” but it seems like, in people’s minds, there might be a lot of overlap there. or it gets defaulted to mom and then it’s hard to pry yourself out of that box.

like i think of my students and i immediately think, “yeah i care about them!” but then i don’t actually feel anything? it’s just an instinctive thought without any ability to feel attached. that might come through in my grading. i’m not sure.

anyway it’s 11 and i haven’t made any more progress on my grading. might have to... put it away for the night and try to sleep. keeping myself physically healthy is going to help me more this week than finishing the grading. well, to think of it another way, getting sick right before my last (hardest? least predictable) midterm is a way worse idea than dealing with the consequences of not having the grading done and letting three labs stack up. gotta make a choice i guess. can’t do both today. just gotta... tell myself i’ll have more energy tomorrow, even if i don’t believe it.

[adventures-in-transmania]

This doesn’t have anything to do with being trans. This has everything to do with living in a goddamned trailer park for my entire life.

I don’t remember much from my childhood. I remember helping out with home repair by getting tools/supplies. I remember being 10+ and worrying about how we’re going to fix something, how we’re going to afford to fix something. I remember being anxious about hearing water leaking, about hearing my parent cuss under their breath and worrying what it was now. At 23, I still have anxiety revolving around my parent cussing under their breath because it did and still does quickly turn into them yelling. It wasn’t usually *at* me, but it could easily turn to me if they were irritated enough, which I understand now. I didn’t at the time.

I remember my worst day. I worked at a coffee shop, oftentimes for long hours with usually no breaks. At the time, I was a shift leader. I had little experience with managerial stuff, but knew my way around the other areas, one of the reasons they made me a shift leader. I digress, though (kind of, context after all). At the time, we didn’t have a car, but I don’t recall why. We also didn’t have hot water. Our hot water tank had broken a while ago and I had been taking showers for college on the college campus in the fitness center. It was awful. It had been 8-10 months at the time that we didn’t have hot water. It was frustrating because we had the new water heater but couldn’t get rid of the old one to install the new one. Neither of us were strong enough to pull the old one out.

So, no car, no hot water. I biked to work at 3am to get there by 5 am. I worked a 12 hour shift, no break, no manager on duty (it was Sunday), and I had to figure out price/ad changes on my goddamned own. I had to do things that weren’t part of my job (so, same as usual, jfc). Then I had to bike home. I got about half way, and I remember to this day, that I came really fucking close to just giving up on everything. I broke down crying but somehow I made it home (thanks Ayden). I probably had to be back at work at 5am. I don’t think I ever told anyone, considering it was the middle of summer, so of course I wasn’t in contact with anyone from college, nor was I close enough to anyone to talk to them about it. It’s also not something you broadcast. Even when I was in school, talking to people every day, I didn’t tell them we didn’t have hot water, I didn’t tell them I was showering on campus in the middle of winter when it was too cold to shower at home.

Anyway, 11 months (almost an entire year of not having a hot water tank), we finally got it installed. There have been several instances where we had to turn the water completely off (of course not for 11 months). It got so bad that my parent put a turn-off valve on anything they could, so if the kitchen sink was fucked up, we could turn those faucets off without turning the rest off. We had issues with the toilet seal a while back but we got it fixed within a month. It was hell, lemme tell you (especially with the parent yelling to high hell impressive swears), but we survived. Context I want you to get from this is that I am super fucking sensitive when it comes to the sound of water spraying/leaking against plywood and I am super fucking anxious when it comes to water leaks or anything regarding water leaks when it comes to this place.

SO. Last Thursday, after a shitty day for the parent, they come home and our sewage line is acting up. They try to fix it the same way I did about four hours before. They break the seal on our toilet. We’ve been having issues with backup in the bathroom sink, the shower drain, and the kitchen sink. Not a surprise, I guess, but still a pain the dick. So begins the long fucking week of finding creative ways to get rid of sewage.

They’re so frustrated and tired that they’re at the point “it doesn’t matter.” Of course, I know better. It may not matter today, but it will tomorrow, especially when it comes to our elderly grandmother who has the most inconvenient timing for literally everything. So, I resort to prior experience. I go into problem-solving mode, which works for a day and a half. They still have to deal with some difficult stuff while we try to fix it. Obviously, we’re at the point where this is getting fucking ridiculous to deal with. I realize that I make enough (or could, if I work a certain number of hours a week that I could potentially do) to get us out, so I start looking for an apartment. They get hope that we can get out, so they start looking, too. We’ve lived here for 23+ years, a mobile home that is clearly past its prime and I am able to get rid of it, so we’re looking into that, but it’s not instantaneous, so we’re fixing what we can to live here while we look, right. So, it’s a week long process of effort, money (that could be put into a new apartment), and stress into fixing a problem in the short-term (as long as it lasts a few months, we’ll be fine). As long as we have a working toilet for the next 1-3 months, right?

So, we get the PVC, we get the couplings, we get what we need to fix it. We end up fucking it up, fixing it again, fucking it up, fixing it again. WE FIX IT. 5-6 trips to Home Depot, another 2-3 to a local hardware store. Meanwhile, I’m spending my days off dealing with this. I’ve already been stressed to the point of almost breaking down in front of several supervisors (”do you feel better?” “I hope you feel better than you look.”). I’d had several breakdowns prior to this, based primarily on work. But, yeah, I had the capacity to deal with this, too. It was the first time I asked to leave early from work in the 5 years of working. So, I was looking forward to having A SINGLE FUCKING DAY OFF, right?

Yeah, no. I get not a single day off. I have to say, college was fucking tiring. I worked 20-35 hours on top of college, right? When our manager when out, I was there to cover a lot of her shifts. I didn’t complain because she couldn’t help it. I was able to do it, I guess. It was hard, but it was nothing compared to what I’ve had to do. I stayed up some nights. It wasn’t an issue, I don’t know why. Apparently class wasn’t as difficult as I thought it was? That was a break compared to “real life.”

I have my job now. I have a hard time not sleeping between jobs. I have a hard time not sleeping for 24 hours. I have a hard time having jobs for 18-24 hours straight. Perhaps it’s more physically demanding? I think I’ve reached a new low and I don’t know what to do. I’m so tired, I’m fucking exhausted and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t think there is a ‘fix.’ Sleep doesn’t help. Even when I get decent sleep, I’m still miserable. In the last 2-3 weeks, I’ve reached an all-time low several times.

I broke down for some reason about 3 weeks ago. I want to blame it on being tired, being exhausted. I talked to someone about stepping down from a position of responsibility, someone I thought I’d disappoint that it turned out I wouldn’t. It was a long day, I guess, a lot of energy drinks, a lot of emotions. I was vulnerable. I had a great breakdown. It was my breaking point, but I had to keep going.

Work kept me responsible. What I mean by that is, I had a shift that I was expected to know what I was doing, then was expected to know what I was doing at the next shift (”just ask Riley, they know all about this account”) on top of being sensory overloaded and having people on top of me and it being warm and the account itself being tedious. It didn’t help, I was supposed to be back there again the next morning. It was just a tiring day all around and to have there be scheduling changes...Anxiety was a thing.

The next day brought a store that I guess was my ‘break.’ I didn’t really have to be responsible for anything, but I didn’t really think of it as such, given that there were 3 people scheduled and it was a travel store. The next store after that (a store I thought I’d get a nap for, that I didn’t) I knew I’d have hella responsibility for, give that I was granted an email about what responsibility I’d have. I broke down during that store and asked to leave early, knowing I had two stores the next day. It was the first time I asked to leave early in my entire career. I cried the entire way home and texted a friend to come see them instead of going home. I wasn’t okay. It wasn’t the worst day I had, but a very close second.

The next morning, these same assholes decided “hm, he left early because he couldn’t handle shit the night before” then put me on to lead a flow the next fucking morning. I legit thought the people saying “yep, you’re flow lead,” were joking because of the night before. I almost cried right then and there. I just wanted to count. Especially when another lead came by and changed the game plan entirely. It was due to my area manager being highly understanding that I stayed. That same day, I had another shift that they put me as flow lead. It was hard to fuck up, but it was still tiring, emotionally draining, considering the morning I had.

Basically since the one day, the day I ran Tops (6-12) I haven’t really had a day off, that RGIS hasn’t decided training was necessary, or that life hasn’t fucked me completely over. I’m fucking exhausted. I have no support system and I’m exhausted.

[jinxyme]

Today ended a calm that was in my life. When you work and have a disability especially a mood disorder having regularity and stability becomes essential to your day to day. I’ve had my job 2 years and in that time I went through my store being renovated and everything changing, changing how to do our jobs, and changing bosses. All things that I could handle. Didn’t handle it well but I definitely tried my best, pushed through and stayed with it. Two years I have dedicated my time my effort and all my brain power to make sure my job ran smoothly. Now none of that would have mattered without my boss. She was great, she was dedicated, and she cared for our department and our team so much. She took the job when no one else wanted it and shaped our department into the most functional it could be. We started in the trash I’m not going to lie. I had the job a month and a half and was barely tried for it yet when she took over she asked for imput and wanted to know what she could do better for us. She took the time to learn from other stores and made the department so fucking strong. Strong enough that we could handle being on our own. Today was her last day. She had a job opportunity that she couldn’t pass up and I don’t blame for her a second. She always did what was best for us and now she finally did what was best for her. I will miss her like crazy. She helped stabilize me honestly. On shitty days I knew that I could trust her for help small or big. She was always dependable. The whole fucking store can attest to this too. She was always at work. Who need to go home when you can be at work. She’s going to fucking rock it at her new job and I know this because she never gives up. If she doesn’t know it she will learn it. She won’t back down and she will get it done. She is a force to be reckoned with and I feel bad for who gets in her way next.

This isn’t the only problem that happened though. The job opportunity came and then all the stability of my department fell to shit. We have always been separate from our store. We had our own little department in the corner that we could laugh at the cashiers suffering through rush hour because we never had to help. We were a separate contract. It was amazing it’s honestly why I took the job and why I stayed with the job because I did not want to be in the store. Large crowds of people freak me out and being up front and dealing with customers is not for me. All we had to deal with was people over the phone and that’s one at a time. Never a crowd never a problem. You have the angry customer here and there but if you spoke calmly enough it could end peacefully. Last week though we were told by the end of the month that will be no longer. We will no longer be separate, we will be conjoined and there is no way out of it. They kept trying to reassure us that we wouldn’t just be forced out into the store that we would be able to still keep most of us in our department. You know only the bottom few people might have to be on the floor but as the week went on we just kept being told different stories and different ways they were going to do it and different everything. Now this once again go back to I don’t handle change well. I don’t handle people well. I don’t handle. I have learned to deal with the mood swings. I have learned to deal with the anger that pops out a lot but I never fucking learned how to deal with change. It honestly feels like I am being tossed in a lake in the middle of January with no clothes. Stuck from the shock of the cold water, drowning so quickly with no escape. All the while I have literally everyone telling me to deal with it stick it out and that it will be fine. No one bothers to take in to account the fact that it’s already hard enough when scheduling used to switch my shifts on me but now everything can just be switched. If my hours don’t fit well in my department I will get stuck doing what the store wants me to do and there isn’t a way to stop it. Cause I can’t just call in sick. I can’t just avoid the shift and I sure as hell cant avoid the people. Maybe this would all be okay if there wasn’t as many fucking people but that’s not the case because a store in told closed down and it was the only other fucking store in the downtown core. Hmmmmmmmm I wonder why my store is all of a sudden overwhelmed with people so much that we are not constantly busy in the store from 9:30am till5:45pm. Then another beautiful rush of people from 7pm- closing time because our town runs on munchies and our convenience stores have bad hours and bad prices so it’s never worth it. We used to be busy from 11am -5:45pm but it was so much more manageable. The cashiers weren’t overwhelmed. The store staff wasn’t constantly busy showing people around. Now we are just fucked in the store and we are just told to not try to fight with customers over prices or whatever it may be and just give up because there are honestly so many more of them and definitely not enough of us. I am now getting yelled at by people in the store because I am not on tills and I am not helping them grab stuff and I am not showing them how the store works. I do understand that coming to a new store is a shitty feeling because if you’re used to going to another store for the past 5-10 years we’re their layout is the opposite of ours because shockingly enough they were a competitor. I’m sorry we don’t have pickles in the same isle as the other store. I’m sorry you didn’t see juice boxes on the sign and missed the isle you wanted to go down. I’m sorry that our coffee is split up between natural coffee and Folgers and stuff. I didn’t make the floor plan. I don’t get to pick where things go. I don’t even get to pick where I go now. Please don’t get mad at me. That might have gotten a little off topic sorry.

The problem with the merge with the store is all the people in our department chose it because we have health problems mental problems you name it we have someone who’s got it. So we honestly can’t really do the other jobs in the store. I am not going to lie when I was hired they shoved me into the department because after the orientation day they realized that If i worked in the store I wouldn’t have made it past like day 2. They were not wrong. I get why they want us in the store. We do understand till work. We know how to technically put things onto shelves. We know how to talk to customers but that doesn’t mean that we are suited for it. We have to do returns so we have to know the tills. We have to talk to customers in the store cause we are on the floor a lot. We’ve technically all helped out in other departments but I have thought about this a lot and I don’t know a single department that I could handle for more then an hour or two because they’ve all been hell. They are all run barely. Having my department separate was great because when shit went wrong in the store and we got in shit for it I would take it to the store mangers I would tell them the other departments failures (expired products,poor quality, opened packages) and they would be told in their own separate meeting they needed to be more careful with what they put on the shelf. What happens now though. Are they still to be held accountable? Or is it now my fault because I will be working in all the departments too. Why should it be my fault when I do my job correctly when I am there. I always take the expired products off the shelf. I always check the packaging. And I always make sure what ever I am grabbing is of the best quality we have. All these little things are getting my head wrapped to the point were I am so close to just quitting. What actually brings me back to my boss. The rock star. She overworked herself ever single fucking week. She did overtime she did double shifts. She would do like full 10 hour shifts without eating or sitting but just drinking more coffee. Because of this no one in my department wanted her position. They all say how exhausted she was. The store saw it also so no one from in the store wants the job either. We had 2 applicants for the job. One retracted their application after the interview and the other has no experience in managing or what our department is so why would you bother applying? I know I said she prepped us to be on our own but she only was able to prep maybe 3-4 of us. So we have so many who are going to just be lost without her direction. Who do we go to with our problems now. What are we supposed to do if someone calls asking for a supervisor. I honestly don’t know. All this is just fucking me up sideways and it’s so fucking mentally exhausting. So much so that I am pushing myself away from people because I am so worried that I am going to have a swing and just freak out. That I am going to break down and just give up. That I am going to lose all the progress I have made to be a better person. I am so scared that I am going to lose me. The person I’ve become with the routine and the schedule and the freedom that came with it. I have lows here and there and I have my highs but I have been controlling them. I’ve taken care of myself and all of this change is unraveling what I have put together.

The worst part is it’s last change because we were also told that we would be getting double the work load starting in July. That we would be busy then ever. That we would be upping our radius and serving even more people. So with the store changing us having no management and our department getting ripped apart we were then told that with the little moral we had left that now we will have to do double the work and do it faster. They expected us just be a mat to walk on. They wanted us to not question anything that’s been given and just do it. I don’t know if I will be able to handle it. I am fighting myself every day because so much of this just doesn’t seem worth it. When it was our department and our space and our work then I had no problem with any changes they threw at me but not that we aren’t separate I don’t know how to handle it. My boyfriend told me to start thinking about what I actually want to do with my life but I honestly don’t know. I was fantastic at what I have been doing. I knew it wasn’t going to be for life but I’ve never been very good at life plans. Just short term goals and that was fine but I should have started thinking about what I want to do for a living. What I want to be and who do I want to be. I honestly love working with my hands but because my hands are so damaged from the exzema it makes it hard to do something dedicated like that. I know desk jobs aren’t for me either because I’ve been there I’ve done that and it was horrible. So after that what is there really for me to do. You can’t make a living off of being a cashier part time. I’m fucking lost and I have to be up in 4 and a bit hours.