#go pay taxes or something guys idk

[threepoint14art]

I finally was able to blorbo beam abby which means i can stick her in the grinder LOL ft Bébe hahhaaaa you guys remember her,,,,,,,,,,,,, she sure is hereeee

you cant be based on circus baby and not have something incredibly wrong with you sorry girl it doesnt work that way

[honeyconez]

guys hear me out would painis cupcake pay taxes? Because he’s not like mega insane like ass pancakes I think he’d pay his taxes in my professional opinion.

[driftingballoons]

I hope you don't mind me asking two thing back to back, but for the reverse unpopular opinion ask game.

What piece of PMD lore/story just doesn't sit right / doesn't make sense with you?

Not at all! Love getting asks, thank you! :3

The one piece of lore that’s always bothered me a bit is how they handle humans in the series. Imo it’s just a little confusing and odd. Now for the positive! By leaving it vague, it really hands over the lore to the fans—how do humans live in this world? Are they common, or are you one of/the only one left? Do they tend to live side by side with pokemon, or are they more separate than in the main series? Where did Hero come from? What happened to their family? Etc etc. Plus, in Explorers, the idea of there being humans around, but you not seeing ANY in the Dark Future really adds to the oppressive and heavy nature. It helps show it’s such a harsh world that only the most feral of pokemon can truly thrive. 

[cc-cuttlefishculler]

good night

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 8)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 7, Part 9

summary: You visit your ex. Miguel tags along.

warnings: mentions and description of depression. heavy angst, depictions of a toxic relationship. some suggestive language.

a/n: me when idk shit abt the american school system:

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 5.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you had forgotten; they were good.

Blank walls. Quiet corridors. The buzz of monitors and dull chatter sandwiched between blue vinyl and exit signs. You're not usually one to wander during your breaks; but you're going crazy looking at the same four walls. 

That hair net itches and the strap of a blue mask digs into skin as you make your way to a little courtyard. You sit out on a paltry bench overlooking concrete. The spindly remnants of a tree provides little cover from harsh elements. Wind whips through its branches, whistling and cool, as you rip off the mask and crumple it up in your pocket. A heavy sigh, and you feel some semblance of peace. Some quiet, before the morning comes. Before a rush of orders and shunting plastic trays up and down the wards. 

You screw your eyes shut to still the pounding at your temples. God. You're grateful for the job, really. And all things considered, it's not particularly taxing: coffee orders until the little cafe closes, meal prep for the morning rush, and sometimes you'd volunteer to take orders to bed bound patients. A whole lot of reheating and chopping and pressing buttons on the little machines. You don't quite get it, of course, but your lone coworker picks up the slack well enough. 

The older woman doesn't do much for company, anyways. Riveting conversation comes in the form of grunts and sharp elbows when you get in the way or round the corner of the kitchen. It has you counting down the seconds until your shift ends. 

And so you are grateful, well and truly. Jamie's not so sappy, anymore; doesn't partake in 'I love you's or grand gestures; but he is dependable. Safe. Willing to stick his neck out for you, at least. He'd gotten you a job at the hospital he has his placement at; with decent pay, and it slots in well with your other ones. He's taking you seriously – taking the news better than your parents. After telling him you wanted to go back to school, you're not met with thinly veiled disbelief, or lips pressed together with pity. He'd nodded, rather simply. Didn't make a fuss. No deep sighs, or heavy frowns. Okay , he had said. How can I help? 

It was the simplicity of his reaction that had bowled you over, almost bringing you to tears. To have someone believe in you, for once – wholeheartedly and without an onslaught of questions – felt like a deep breath of air after almost drowning. It felt like love ; and after desperate breaths, gasping and gulping and clawing at something to hold on to, you think you've found dry land. Something solid, something stable; a rough palm to pull you out of swirling depths. Because, unlike your family, and unlike half-hearted friends: Jamie was there. 

After heading back in to catch the morning rush, you're wiping down surfaces and sorting plastic trays onto a cart. Rote, repetitive, boring; you've settled into a routine that feels familiar. A couple more months, you reckon, and you'll be able to cover the costs for a second go at undergrad. You can shed the skin that seems to follow you at every family gathering, and the job interviews in between. Dropout – and when your Mom says it, it feels like a vile curse. Jamie calls it spiteful, and you opt for the democratic alternative; she's being dramatic - rather than cruel, rather than hurtful, rather than crass. You've heard enough, from all sorts: ‘too much pressure’, and ‘didn't think she had it in her, anyways’, are common phrases whispered in the background of phone calls home. 

Your chest aches with the weight of it – the kind of ache that seeps into skin, and lines a casket. Grief; mourning a person you could've been, and a person you never would be. For a while, it left you paralysed by the what ifs and the maybes; rotting in a quiet corner. Sinking into sofa cushions or caked onto the bed sheets like the mystery mould bloomed onto the plates in your room. But Jamie was there, more than anyone else. 

You'll wait for him in the corridor near the back of the service elevator, like you always do after a shift. You finish when he starts, early in the morning and rubbing away sleep from his eyes for ward rounds. You'll give him a kiss, and he'll give you a soft little smile to send you on your way. It almost makes the whole thing worth it. Almost. 

You give and you give and you give. Your boyfriend isn't quite the same; doesn't pour into you the way you'd like him to. But it works. It works because it has to; a thousand miles away from anything resembling home. You can't ask for more – the right words die in your throat. 

~~~

You've spent the past couple of hours in the library. Procrastinating for at least half of it, but you've managed to draft out a couple of essays and more or less reorganise your life. It's something you've been dreading for the past week or so; letting yourself get swept up in the monsoon that is your roommate. Miguel – sarcastic, saccharine-sweet Miguel – and his stupidly pretty lips, his pretty hands, and the pretty way he scrunches up his face like he's smelt something rotten. 

You're staring at a computer with a slew of books spread out on the adjacent desk. Your half-finished report seems to jumble together on the screen; a tangle of citations and filler words and shitty diagrams. It's not quite clicking , and it's making you want to tear out chunks of your hair in search of relief. A tale as old as time, one you can merely wallow in and fold yourself between its pages. Struggling at school; and this time it's a stats module you thought would be an easy couple of credits, that you definitely can’t afford to fail if you want to graduate early. 

You’ve picked a quiet spot on the third floor; a computer bay tucked into the corner. It overlooks a little window, cramped and claustrophobic and mystery mould in the corners of its grout. You've resorted to scanning the cracks with sharp eyes, light fingers on your neck to trace the leftovers of the morning. You can see it in the slightly mirrored surface of cloudy glass; you look like shit, you feel like shit, but you can still feel him. Lips on your neck, sucking soft hickies into the skin; and you can't help but like the way it looks on you. It's the same under your jeans, blooming like mauve and purple heather on a sprawling field.

You cross your legs, wincing at the dull ache that spreads. Sore, in that way that feels good; sending flashes of a morning with Miguel. Fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and the heat of him – cut and lean-lined – on top of you; it's impossible to ignore. Condensation drips from the panes, pooling in its corner and you swipe a finger in it, lazily. Again, you're reminded of him, for the thousandth time in the past hour: shaking legs, fisting his cock, spraying fat globs of his cum onto your face and chest. 

With another glimpse of your reflection, you sigh. Deep and heavy, with the weight of half a decade of frustration, sexual or otherwise. You've never felt this good or had your needs satiated so wholly, so exorbitantly. It feels odd. You don't know where to put your hands, how to place your feet on the floor. Do you shout, do you scream? How do you tell all the poor bystanders that scatter the third floor: I'm sleeping with Miguel O'Hara! A walking red flag with cheekbones that could cut glass! He wants me, and I want–

Your phone rings. The noise catches you off guard, and has you stumbling to press accept. 

"Hey," Miguel's voice sounds tinny in the speakers, and so you press it to your ears. 

"Y-Yeah?" You steel yourself, batting away daydreams of your legs wrapped around his middle – too horny for your own good, clearly. 

"I'm outside, chula. " He stops talking. The quiet ticking of an indicator becomes the only sign of life, before he says, "In that parking bay by the–" 

"I know, I know. Give me 5 minutes." You rush to pack up, clicking off the monitor and haphazardly shoving your notes into your bag. Not everything fits, and you give up trying to cram that textbook in. 

A beat passes before you realise he's still on the phone. Quiet, but still there. 

"…I brought food, by the way." 

You only just manage to catch it, slotting the phone between your ear and shoulder. That makes you perk up. 

" Seriously? " You give him a small laugh. You think you can hear him smile through the phone. "Thank fucking God, I'm starving. But you weren't rushing, or anything, right? I mean, it's so soon after your session with… Sally, or–" 

You're bounding down two steps at a time, so eager to see him – to get food , actually – that you're careless going down the stairs.

"Sarah . " He breathes, and you make your way downstairs. 

It stops you in your tracks, for some reason. 

"Okay. Sarah ." You say it with finality, voice tight. "What did you end up doing anyways? At her place, you said?" 

"Pressure differentials. Modelling viscosity. It's not very interesting." He hums, shifting in his seat. "What about you? Did you get something done?" 

You take a beat too long to respond, and it comes out half-baked. 

"Loads, Mig."

He snorts. " Sure. "

" Fuck you. " You say it under your breath, ducking past the entrance, and into a side road.

And there Miguel is, car heaped onto part of the sidewalk. He's leaning back, lazy arm sticking out the car window, showing off muscle and pretty tan skin. It's getting cold, but he's cracked the car door ajar; donned in a well-fitting t-shirt and slack trousers. 

You're trying not to drool; and he makes it a little easier by flashing a shit-eating grin. 

Childishly, you stick your tongue out; wrenching the door open and slumping into the passenger side. You tuck your things by your feet, and it lands on the floor with a thump. 

"You can put your stuff in the back.. . " Miguel frowns.

" Can't. We need the space, remember?" 

To pick up the rest of your things left in your ex's apartment. You hope he can parse out the rest of that from a raised eyebrow. 

He sighs, tossing a brown bag of takeout onto your lap. He starts the car. "...I didn't think we were still doing that, to be honest."

He seems disappointed, eyes flitting this way and that as he reverses and pulls out. You must've hit your head at some point, because you're in heat – pressing sore legs together at the way he does it. One arm on the back of your headrest, sharp jaw jutting out as he looks back, and bottom lip hooked under his teeth; he's just concentrating, trying not to hit one of the cat-sized rodents that roam the streets this late at night, and he's still hot . 

"You promised ."

"I had my face between your thighs. Would've said anything if it meant I could have more."

You draw your lips in faux disgust – your heart's not in it, but it's enough to make him chuckle. 

"Fuck you."

He doesn't miss a beat, deadpanning, "...you'd like that."

Lips pursed, you ignore the way it twists your stomach into knots. Steadfast, you stare out at the window, watching the yellow lights of a bustling city pass you by. 

Miguel takes a different turning, one that'll take you across the city and away from your place. To Jamie's, most likely. You soften, taking a moment to look across at him. 

His eyes flit over, intense and almost a deep red in the neon and lights. It's barely a couple of seconds, but he knows, just like that. 

"Are you nervous?" He tests the waters, voice steady and non-committal. It's not an accusation; even though everything feels like one, lately. Not from him, though. Never from him. 

" No ." Your tone is betraying, and you both know it. He seems to pretend not to hear that tremor in your voice. 

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." He says it soft and low, not quite looking at you. 

"It's just… it's the first time I'm going to see him after–" Your voice crackles. "After everything."

"You'll be okay," He starts. It doesn't feel like an empty platitude when he says it: it feels genuine and full-bodied and sonorous, clanging around your head like the chime of church bells. "Probably not right away – it's going to hit you like a semi, first. And you'll feel like shit afterwards. But it won't last. You'll move on, and you'll be okay; because you have to be."

He drifts off somewhere far away when he says that last bit; and you're not too sure what he's talking about anymore. Regardless, you wrap his words around you, holding it to your chest like a little songbird in the cradle of a tree. 

You'll be okay. You have to be. 

It feels less solid when it's not Miguel saying it, you think. You don't tell him that, though, sinking into the seat instead. 

He doesn't let that silence sit for too long. Traffic creates a natural lull, and he reaches over to tap at the book in your lap – one of many different textbooks, the rest of which is lodged in your bag.

"You're taking a stats module, I assume."

You nod. 

"With Dr. Karev?" 

You sit up slightly. "...yeah, actually."

He hums. "You thought it would be an easy A, then." 

He's right, but it doesn't make it sting any less. You were hoping for simple math and data processing, and here you were: drowning in matrices and linear algorithms.

 "I thought it would be."

"Let me help you, then. I took one of his classes and he barely changes the syllabus. I could dig up my old notes, and–" 

"You want to tutor me ?" You splutter – but you don't mean to sound as shocked as you do. " Why? " 

"Why not?" He shrugs. 

"I… I don't have any money, or anything."

"M'not offering because I want money." He's nonchalant, inching towards the car up front. 

You squint. It's not adding up. "What's the catch?" 

"No catch, I swear. Is it so hard to believe I'm being nice?" 

Now, you feel guilty. "Sorry, Mig. I appreciate it, I really do–" 

"Sit on my face and we'll call it even."

He turns to you now, face flat but with a twinkle in his eye. The corners of his mouth are slightly upturned - amused. He thinks this is funny? 

You give him a light shove as the traffic starts to break up. He's riled you up, now, and you're much too annoyed to be nervous. 

"Eyes on the road, asshole." 

It's more bark than bite, and you settle into the seat, finally cracking open the paper bag. You munch on fries and it makes him laugh. Miguel swears he can see it: the hint of a gentle smile on your face. 

~~~

He pulls up to the apartment complex. Modest, close to the hospital; and you probably couldn't have afforded to live there without your ex. Jamie was lucky; his parents could foot the bill of moving out, and he had family that lived in the city. 

It feels odd to be on the outside looking in. The building's windows become snapshots into other people's lives. For some, it meant an early night, blinds drawn and lights off. From the parking lot, you can see the dim yellow of lights streaming through other apartments. Silhouettes flit past every now and then; the only sign of life. 

Jamie's apartment is on the top floor, the two windows on the far right. You crane your head out of the car window, to get a better look. The lights are on, with one window left slightly ajar. 

Miguel moves to get out, with shuffling that breaks the silence. You stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"No, no. I'm going up by myself."

He cocks his head to the side, ever so slightly. 

"...you sure? If you need help shifting boxes, I can–" 

"I'm good, Mig. I just needed the car."

It comes out snappier than you meant it to, already irritable. With that, you pop the door open with a thunk . You can't see it, but he frowns, watching you swish and sway towards the entrance. 

You trace familiar steps to Jamie's apartment. The door code hasn't changed, and so you buzz yourself in. This is something you can do quickly and efficiently, you've decided. In and out, and you don't have the energy for much else. Bracing at the door, you get ready to knock, hand curled into a fist. 

The door swings open before you get the chance. He's there; still in light blue scrubs and a name badge pinned to his chest. It's the first thing you see, trying not to look at his face. But it's like pulling teeth, you decide: less painful when it's quick and sharp. 

" Where's my –" 

" Your stuff's in the –" 

In a great clash of words, you finally look up at him. Where you're expecting some form of emotion – a flash of something, even for just a moment – Jamie is steadfast. Blank; blinking back sleep, if anything. You clamp down what feels like bile rising in your throat and push past him into the front room. 

"Is this how it's going to be?"

Head down, you grit a quiet, "Don't . "

It's just as you left it, to the point it's almost comical. The same pillows you'd bury yourself in after work, the patterned tea towel you'd bought on a whim. The bar stools in lieu of a proper dining table, and that great big desk he had insisted on carting to the living room for years . Bits and pieces of you, of your relationship, and he barely bats an eye. He'll use your mugs and sleep on your patterned sheets. 

It makes you sick .

You head to the second room. There's a stack of boxes, hastily stashed in the corner. There's still permanent marker on them from when you first moved in. Now, it houses the things you couldn't take with you the first time – everything you left behind. 

Sick, sick, sick . 

You take a moment to dig through the top box, that's clearly been moved. Knick-knacks, books, clothes and all the clutter you've acquired; and it reminds you of family, it reminds you of friends. 

Jamie leans by the doorway, looking on in silence. 

When you pick up a box, straining to lift it, he doesn't offer to help. He watches as you flounder, dragging it towards the door. 

You're huffing when he finally says something; something that's clearly been on his mind for a while, with the way he says it. 

"Are you seeing someone?" He's looking out of the window, gaze fixed on the car parked outside. Miguel's car. 

Your eyes widen. You don't quite trust yourself to speak.

You leave the box by the door. "Are you?“

He shrugs. "Don't have the time."

It's noncommittal and frustratingly blasé. He's not giving you much, and it's fucking with your head. This whole thing feels like a big joke – he wants to talk, and all he's doing is asking bullshit questions. Once upon a time, you would've stewed in it; sat with that question on your tongue and let it rot. 

"I don't understand." You croak. It hurts to say out loud, but you say it. That's the important part. "I don't know why you're doing this… why are you still doing this?"

"I don't like how we left things." He says it slow, like he's choosing his words carefully. 

You want to scream.

" So? " 

" So , I need some kind of closure. We've got unfinished business."

" Unfinished business? " You roll it around on your tongue, reeling at its bitter taste. It feels clinical and lifeless, yet again. 

And then… oh. It clicks. Looking at him, arms folded and leaning on a wall, he looks antsy and uncomfortable. Now, when forced to face you. 

" Closure. " Another word that tastes like shit. You give a watery laugh. "You feel guilty."

He doesn't say anything but his body language says enough. He shifts his weight side to side, unable to make eye contact. 

You don't bother to stick around for an answer, snatching up the box as best you can. Through the doors, and down the corridor. You stagger down the flight of stairs, gritting your teeth. It's heavy – you've packed as much as you can inside, trying to get this over quickly – and you make it to the first floor before it clatters onto the steps. 

You fold ; knees drawn to your chest and hands tight in your hair. Heart racing, chest pumping: you're trying not to get swept away by heavy emotions. The tide rises. You pump your legs around the swirling mass - barely staying afloat in deep, deep water. 

You'll be okay. 

You remember Miguel's words, gentle and sweet and kind. You remember the way he said it; firmly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The kind of grace that you don't have to work for and doesn't need a performance. He believes in you, at least; thinks you're stronger than you have any right to be. And you think of him in the car: eager to help and reassure. You brushed him off. You were mean. 

Deep breath. 

Miguel's waiting for you, just outside those doors. Diligent and patient, saccharine-sweet Miguel. Getting up, you make your way down the stairs with that box. 

When he spots you, a pretty little thing in a hoodie and jeans, he leaps out of the car. 

"Hey, hey, easy… " 

"I'm good, Mig – " 

You're struggling with the box, and he eases it out of your hands without breaking a sweat. One hand on the boot of the car, the other holding up the heavy box effortlessly, and he gives you a quick once over. 

"...he didn't offer to help?" His face is scrunched up - disgusted by the looks of it - and all you can manage is a limp shrug. 

It doesn't take him long to figure it out. You're dejected; nervous, down-trodden, blue in every meaning of the word; losing a little bit of that shine you had started the day with. If he had to guess, and he knows you well enough he'd bet money on it, it was that ex of yours – stealing away that light in a burlap sack, a thief in the brilliance of bright sun. 

It makes him grind his teeth, eyes flicking up at the fourth floor window. 

"I could help." He offers, a hand on your shoulder. It's your favourite hoodie, he thinks, as he circles the soft fabric with his thumb. 

You purse your lips, thinking it over. 

"It'll be quicker, chula. "

That pushes you over the edge, and you finally nod. 

It must be a sight, knocking at the door with Miguel hot on your heels. After living with him for so long, you've forgotten how intimidating he can be when you first meet him; taller than Jamie, and mean-mugging the blonde with a deadly look. If you weren't so on edge it would make you laugh: you know your roommate is mostly harmless. 

Jamie doesn't, of course. He visibly bristles, looking you both up and down. 

"I just need some help with the boxes. This is my roommate, Miguel."

You turn to the man beside you.

" Miguel ," You say it softer. "This is Jamie."

Wordlessly, he stretches out a palm,

rough and broad and tan. Hesitant, the man in front of you takes it. 

"Hey, man." Jamie flashes you a strange look when he says it. 

Miguel doesn't answer. 

You lead him to the second room, divvying up the boxes as Jamie hovers at the doorway. It's surprisingly efficient: Miguel insists on taking the heaviest boxes, hauling them up onto his shoulders, before stacking them up at the door. You'll take the smaller stuff, and it seems everything will be done in far fewer trips than before. It's hard to say out loud, but you're grateful for his help – Miguel was right , for once. 

After the first trip, he's bounding back up the stairs for more. You've both made it into a game, with neither one of you having to explain the rules. He pinches your arm whilst you sift through boxes, and you stick your tongue out in response. Elbow deep in crap, and he manages to make it feel a little better. 

Jamie stews. Jamie festers. In a corner of what used to be your shared apartment, he pretends to tap at his phone, uninterested. You know him too well for that facade to stick. 

Miguel takes the last of the boxes down, and you're straggling behind, picking up the last few bits and pieces. You're left alone with your ex, for a brief moment. 

"You're fucking him." He says it quiet, in a whisper that sounds oh-so loud in that little room. Fucking. He spits it out, and makes the word feel cheap and dirty. 

You look up from across the room. Slowly, he traverses its width, gaze pinning you down like a bug under a microscope. 

He brings a hand to your chin, cupping the flesh tenderly. It's intimate and familiar, reminding you of better days. Something bubbles up in your stomach, sweet and innocent. That feeling doesn't last long. 

"You're fucking him." 

It's accusatory, spat out with a rueful smile pulling at his lips. His fingers brush over your throat and you squirm, pulling up the mouth of your hoodie. 

Those hickies, blossoming like flowers in the spring. They crackle across your skin like fallen leaves in autumn. 

"It's none of your fucking business."

"Of course you are. I can't believe you." He rolls his eyes, half-laughing. "I was going to apologise! I was planning to say sorry for the way I handled things and you had to rub it in my face."

" What ?" You croak. 

"You brought the guy you're fucking to our apartment!" He explodes. 

His lips flatten into a tight line.

" ...now it's our apartment? You kicked me out. You dumped me ." 

"Don't…. fuck , don't do that. Don't make me the bad guy, here. I gave you plenty of time to find a new place."

"Two. Weeks." You grit. "You gave me two weeks, asshole. You left me alone, and told me to fend for myself whilst you fucked off to your sister's." 

That fire dies down as he hesitates. "I… I would've let you stay longer. You know that, baby."

" No. No I don't know, 'cuz you don't tell me shit , anymore." You blink back hot tears. "I don't make as much money as you do, and my family can't support me like yours can."

"I would've–" 

"You didn't. " You swallow roughly. "You didn't. I don't even know what I did wrong ."

"No, no." He cradles your face with his hands, swiping at stray tears. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Now, you look up at him. With glistening eyes, and a heavily furrowed brown, it barely comes out as a whisper; red-raw and strained. 

"Then why don't you love me?"

He doesn't deny it. There isn't a scramble to reassure you; to pat your head and kiss away tears to show you how much he cares. Instead, he steps away guiltily. 

"I care about you, of course I do. Remember when you changed your major?" 

You nod. 

"I was there, wasn't I? I stayed up for hours talking you through it. And when you dropped out, I came over on the weekends and brought you groceries."

"I was there. I helped you through that funk , and helped you get that job for school. Every stupid little question, every depressive episode, all those moments where no-one else would help: I did. Even though I had other things going on in my life, I showed up. For you. It was enough, for a while."

Until it wasn't. He sighs. 

"I'm starting my residency next year… and you're still in school, right?”

“Yes, I am.” You say it simply, not able to say much more without breaking down.

“I'm happy for you, really - proud that you actually got that far. But we're going in different directions, and at different paces. It's easier now that we're not together.”

You bristle at his tone: still in school, actually got that far . It oozes pomp and a quiet kind of superiority. Easier now, like it was difficult before. 

“I didn't make that decision because I hate you, or because I don't care about you. I know you're angry.” He places his hands on your shoulders, and doesn't break eye contact. For the first time since you got here, you think he's finally showing emotion; quiet melancholy just below the surface. Up this close, you can see it: deepening bags under his eyes, sallow skin, and fine lines. Jaime looks tired. In fact, he seems exhausted .  

“I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. But that doesn't excuse the fact that you brought your fuck buddy here, when I just wanted to talk.”

It feels cruel. The way he looks at you, and the way his demeanour switches from the Jamie you knew before, to this .  

"I wanted to talk." You strain. " Months ago. After you broke up with me, and disappeared off the face of the planet. Every time I called, crying and panicking, it went straight to voicemail." 

You shake his hands off of you, stepping back. 

"Miguel's a friend… did you ever think of that? Maybe I just needed some help moving my things, Jamie. Maybe I don't have that many friends since they stopped talking to me because of you, Jamie. Maybe, there's not some devious plot to spite you."

You pick up the rest of your stuff, a little basket of trinkets and books. The very same books that he had told you to pack up; to make some space for his textbooks. 

"Get your head out of your ass. Don't call me. Don't text me. I'm done. "

You're already halfway out of the door. With that, you start to storm off; clattering into Miguel by the stairs. When your things spill out of your hands, you both drop to your knees in a scramble to pick them up. You're chewing the inside of your cheek so hard it draws blood, fumbling around. Miguel is more efficient, scooping up your belongings back into its box. 

You're drooping, only able to mutter a quiet thanks. On the way to his car, you're dejected. Miguel watches carefully, trailing behind. 

~~~

He doesn't know what to say. 

You've left him speechless before. Many times, in the span of your couple months together. Miguel recalls it in exasperated messages to Lyla; you're something else entirely. Frustrating, sometimes. Quick-witted. Perceptive. Thoughtful. A million and one words to describe you, and yet, it still doesn't paint the full picture. You are multi-faceted and brilliant in a way he's not sure he completely understands. 

[Sent: 22:33]

Can't explain it, Ly. 

[Sent: 22:33]

I'm going fucking crazy. 

[Received: 22:34]

ur being dramatic :p

[Received: 22:34]

think u just need to get laid 

[Sent: 22:34]

Fuck off. 

[Sent: 22:35]

I said I'm taking a break. Meant it. 

[Received: 22:37]

(image attached) 

[Received: 22:37]

got this at the party

[Received: 22:37]

ur staring, mig

[Sent: 22:38]

… 

[Received: 22:38]

that's my dress! told u I have great taste :)) 

[Received: 23:06]

miggyyy

[Received: 23:06]

stop ignoring me! its not fun anymore >:(

That was a while ago. Before anything serious happened between you both. And he's had the privilege of seeing you in many different ways; stressed, angry, beaming with joy. Bouncing off the walls after too much coffee, or crawling out of bed following a late night. He's seen your lips curve to form a delicious O as you writhe underneath him; he's seen you smile. He'd tattoo it onto his skin, if he could. 

Fuck . He's overthinking it. 

You've retired to your spot on the couch, and yes, he's staring. Tracing the slope of your jaw and the tilt of nose outlined by the glow of the TV. After getting back home late, he brushed off limp protests and took most of the boxes up himself. It sits in a pile by the dining table. You'll deal with it tomorrow, he supposes. 

Retreating behind your ratty blanket, you stare blankly at the screen. Glassy eyes, you've curled up to watch reruns late into the night. Can't sleep, you told him, as he hovered by the doorway. 

He should go to bed. It's nothing to do with him, really, and he shouldn't have overheard as much as he did. Miguel is curious but not nosy, and well-versed on the art of minding your business . So he shouldn't feel his heart splintering; creaking like the trunk of a felled tree; hacked into two by the way he sees you drowning. 

He sits by your side. Not too close, of course, he's wary of all the shit you've been through today; not wanting to make you feel more uncomfortable. 

He's reminded of a childhood holiday. Half a summer spent at a campsite, bounding through woodland and creeks somewhere up north. Gabi and him would disappear, forgoing the beaten paths for their own adventure. Miguel couldn't make friends the way his brother could, so he'd straggle behind; watching from afar as the other kids would climb trees or swim in quiet lakes. Reading by the banks, and he remembers a time someone had slipped under the water. Drowning, and it wasn't anything like the movies. It was quick, silent and deadly. Thrashing under choppy water, and then…

…nothing. Just quiet. 

He feels that panic rising now, watching you stay so eerily still. You've slipped under the waves, and he doesn't know what to say to pull you back out. 

Miguel isn't too good with words. He's not known for his warmth, or comforting presence. Sometimes, he thinks he wasn't built with that switch turned on in his head – and he certainly didn't learn the right words from his parents. And so, he gives you comfort the only way he knows how. He shows you. He takes care of you. 

You come to him. Like two parts of a whole, you slot together perfectly: your head on his shoulder, at first. You end up on his chest, curled up like a housecat; matching shaky breaths to his steady ones. He brings a hand to your shoulder, drawing lazy circles in the fabric to soothe you. 

With the dull chatter and gloom of the TV, you fall asleep. It takes Miguel a little longer, but he wraps his arms around you. He listens out for it: the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Steady, like a metronome, and it grounds him – drowning out the creak of gears. 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka

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[lowkeyrobin]

Hello! Could I please get a cricket crew (those who are okay with x reader Ofc) with a reader who tends to spoil them to the point it’s almost concerning? :)

yes. honestly didn't know what I was doing here so I apologize I got major writers block while doing this and idk why

HANDSOME BROS ; spoiling them

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo & badlinu

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

if he's sad, you're there with a blanket, a bowl of soup and his favorite movie

constantly tweeting "guys my bf is so cool he just bought me lunch" and "got a little present for mr tom simons..."

you completely spoil him and love and your money LMAO

he knows that gift giving is one of your love languages but JESUS CHRIST

like it's not even for a reason anymore, you just spoil him so much

like if he's eyeing something at the store, you might have to surprise him with it later

he feels so bad

"y/n/n, yknow I have my own money and you don't need to spoil me, right?"

you shrug and nod like yeah you know, but will you stop? nope

he appreciates it but like he's running out of space to put all the shit you get him

he genuinely has to sit you down to talk about it because he's worried it's just love bombing and you're slowly giving up on the love in the relationship and using things to replace your fallen love for him

you apologize a trillion times because that's definitely not what's happening, you just love spoiling him

but yeah new rules, you can only buy him 1 thing a week

because he's genuinely worried about your bank account

go pay your taxes

RANBOO

constantly shouting them out online like "congrats to ranboo cause u won boyfriend of the year, prize is bragging rights and me!!" and "ranboo solos"

gifting them any sort of plushie they ever show interest in

straight up doordashing them food mid stream and donating like "ran go check the door"

they love being spoiled but when it gets bad, they sit down and talk to you about it

"is it a trauma response? do you think im gonna leave if you don't spoil me enough?"

you talk about it for a while and how it's just how you show love and how people only seem to listen to you when you got them things instead of told them that you loved and cared about them

another long talk ensues

don't worry, he's never leaving

and you feel bad after so you get him a glow squid plushie!

you mightve missed the point but it's alright

FREDDIE BADLINU

at first he's like "awe, thank you darling" but it's gotten so bad that he's actually worried for the stability of your bank account

you constantly shower him in love online and stuff

always gifting him clothes he'd like, blankets, candles, etc

always tweeting shit like "Freddie badlinu pls be my husband now :D" and "@/badlinu I have kisses awaiting come recieve your gift"

he greatly appreciates that you spend money on him and think about him so often but please calm down bae

yall talk about it and you promise to ease up some

he just feels really bad that you spend so much money on him

he appreciates all the words of affirmation and stuff and how you hype him up I swear LMAO

[blacktofade]

ok i combed through your blog for long enough that i think this is a safe space to do a little discussion of ccs personal lives. if not, you don't have to answer this. but: i know we are all very happy for skizz to be able to go full time with youtube and twitch but i am 99% sure i know what company he worked for — i don't think it's ever been too hard to find the info so maybe most people do? but i've never seen anyone say it directly. if it wasn't common knowledge before, this is going to make it extremely easy to find out — anyway, that company is going through fucking massive layoffs and cutbacks right now, which was announced in private to employees the same day that skizz made his announcement. i don't know how well it lined up other than the day, but the major shit he would have been in either pushed him to jump into professional youtubing and streaming even though it isn't as secure for him as people on the outside might think, or at the very least made the decision feel much better in retrospect.

the graph of the company's stock crash is painful even if you are entirely disconnected from the industry, it is historically awful. like the situation for the company as a whole is not, at this point, bankruptcy bad, but it's not-entirely-unwarranted-comparisons-to-late-90s-early-00s-era-nortel bad. which is… Very Bad. they're cutting approximately 1 out of every 7 employees (15,000 people) over the next couple of months, and in just one day wiped out $30 billion-with-a-b worth of value from the market. it's an absolute nightmare for the people working there, because nobody knows if they're going to be one of the ones getting laid off yet. the company's giving early retirement packages to push out some of higher earning workers, and even if skizz made his decision to leave after knowing the layoffs were coming, the chance he was included in that is very small. but i do hope he got a good deal, if he could.

in conclusion: it's very likely this choice was even scarier than anyone in the fandom previously thought, so… idk everyone please subscribe to skizz on twitch if possible!!!!!

This is absolutely a safe space for CC real life discussions, mostly because I know I'm way more deranged than any anon could be. I know things that would make CCs sweat.

I'm also going to name and shame the company, Intel, because Skizz has mentioned it before, so I'm not considering it a secret -- plus he's no longer there. It's also real shitty what they're doing and my heart goes out to their employees. I dealt with something similar recently and can confirm that these guys will have to wait weeks/months to find out if their job is safe and it will be the most degrading, dehumanizing experience ever.

I keep hemming and hawing about my 1000 IQ assumptions (lmfao), but he 100% knew about the layoff. Whether he heard about it and bounced or whether he took a volunteer deal is up for debate, but there's no way he didn't know it was coming. These companies are not subtle and Skizz is a smart man.

I am quietly praying he was able to take a volunteer deal though, because severance packages at those kinds of companies are WILD. Like, for some actual example numbers, a coworker of mine got 23 weeks of pay (8 weeks base + 15 weeks for years of service), which they received as a lump sum. Skizz says he's been with Intel for 20+ years so he'd be looking at base + 40 weeks. Dude would most likely get a year's salary lump sum (minus taxes), which would definitely help him going the full-time route.

Intel won't be going anywhere anytime soon, but their employees are going to be overworked and underpaid for the foreseeable future and we should be glad that Skizz is free! He's his own boss and, yes, we should all go support him to show he definitely made the right choice! He's such a delight and I will continue to be unwell and horny about him!!

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Spoilers for Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

I haven't actually finished the game but I was thinking, what if Zelda never returns to being a hylian and just remains a dragon forever? Who would be the next in line for the throne?

That's right.

Link. Why?

1. Link is from a long family of knights and one of the only known and confirmed nobles in the game

2. Link is one of the only people in Hyrule to know many classified secrets of the royal family (especially if he regains all his memories from his time as Zeldas personal guard and whatnot)

3. Link has saved and aided all of the different tribes on multiple occasions and united them under him.

4. He has personal friendly relationships with all the tribes leaders aka the chiefs and Zora king

5. Link is pretty good as descalating conflicts and finding middle grounds

6. Link is cononically just as compassionate and lovable as Zelda is and would be beloved as Prince

Theres more but I think you got the picture. Just imagine Prince Link, uncomfortable about this turn of events but willing to do what is best for his people.

So I propose a plot for the new DLC: Of course theres a new Big Bad (maybe a sorcerer like Vaati or something) who makes themselves a castle of thier own in the Depths and is trying to take over hyrule but in a different way than we've seen before. Sure they still create monster and cause havoc but they also do political stuff like scandal and slander

Link gathering alliances with the people of the different tribes and trying to clear his name after he's been framed for crimes he did not commit maybe? He, that doesn't really fit the vibe with what I'm going for, but what if the new Big Bad tried to make the people of Hyrule like him more and use thier love of him as a way into power?

Maybe disasters keep happening and the new guys servents/knights keeps saving the day but things keep getting worse and worse. Maybe there could be a new game mechanic where there's a ward or talisman that stops dark magic/ evil entities from entering the city and most of the disasters in that area stopping entirely and when the servent/knight tries to enter the city they hit a magic barrier and it sounds like a mosquitoe getting zapped by a bug zapper and they scream, revealing themselves to be a monster who had been the one causing all the disasters in the first place. The civilians freak out and the monster flees.

Link and the sage of that area believed in Link the whole time/was suspicious of the servant/knight follows the monster with Link and they find a maze like nest the monster has created

Cue dungeon

Cue boss battle

Rinse and repeat for all the sages people (maybe there are some previously unknown Zonai survivors that Minaru is awed and excited to find and she takes them in idk) maybe they were lost in time or something. Maybe thats where the big bad came from and the the Zonai children interrupted the Big Bads spell and thay wound up in the distant future, the children later running away in confusion and terror. So new tribe and dungeon? Just a thought

DLC features:

1. MASSIVE main quest to renovate the castle where you get to redecorate it however you want. Like you get to choose the furniture and decorations and have things restored to thier former glory. Granted you have to pay for repairs out of your own pocket (taxes can only go so far and thats going towards rebuilding the towns and stuff) and you get to put up your own pictures to replace those torn apart portraits and stuff you see around the castle in BOTW and TOTK. You can put up pictures of Hyrules former royals, the champions, the sages, ect. Or you can go the painting route where someone paints the photos you have on your Purah Pad like in your house in Terry Town. I would buy the DLC just for this to be honest

As you renovate the castle and dig out all the collaped pathways you get new memories of Links time as a soldier and get to see his family as well as memories with Zelda

I would throw so much money at Nintendo just to be able to renovate the castle to my liking. Like, so much you have no idea

2. Link getting a freaking crown and royal armor sets. One for prince and another after he's corinated as king near the end of the game

Armor sets based off of the new and old boss monsters

Armor sets based off of the mini-boss monsters including Gloom Hands (this one looks horrifying btw) and you get some kinda boost from each that represents that specific monster like a Hinox set giving you a food affect boost and Gloom Hands set boosts the power of the Phantom Ganon drops

Maybe a sage set that boosts the powers of the sages a bit

Forest dweller set that increases the durability of wooden weapons

3. Rebuilding the town ruins and creating homes for people all over hyrule like the Deya village ruins and Tabantha ruins and you can do it Lurelin Village style (I loved that side quest it was actually pretty fun)

Anyway, this is me officially releasing this idea to Nintendo it they want it so long as they credit me for the ideas they use from me. They don't even have to pay me (but hiring me would be nice)

Here's a poll to maybe help convince them this is a good idea

@nintendo :)

[draceana]

02 ⁺◟pick a card ꜜ

☆‧₊˚ 𓆩 What the rest of September (2023) want to tell you?

1 2 3

Hi! I bring you my second collective reading! What the rest of September want to tell you? It's like the energy for the rest of your September. Please note that tarot reading is not something that guaranteed your future situation. Take the good part, manifest it, and leave the negative part. Your fate is decided and depending on you ;)

⟡ ♪ (˘ᵕ˘) · യ

📚 Pile 1

10 of wands, wheel of fortune, 4 of wands, 6 of pentacles, dolphin

Hi! Kinda feeling that there are two or more of situation, first is the group that feeling heavy with what they are facing right now relating with work, money, personal issues (that giving you uneasy feeling, weird clogged feeling in your heart), self reflect, relationship with people around you; could be friendship or romantic relationship. The second one, is the group that not feeling too much heavy but still bothered by the same stuffs as the first group. However, the big picture is, how you want to be balance.

Understandable that everyone have their own way to cope with stressful events; in a good way or bad ugly way you gotta cry yourself everyday. It’s hard to think positively. Sometimes you can, and the other time you can not. That’s ok. Please remember, whatever you are facing, you will pass it. Rainbow after the storm. You will be the you that you wanted. What if not? There is always next time, maybe it’s not your day, but it’s okay to be sad, for now. It’s okay to keep everything in you (but if your mind started to be way way feral, pls go to ur s/o). At the end later, you will be fine

Thank you so much for visiting my reading! Please stay healthy, and check down bellow if you're interested to tipping! This is not a must! Once again thank you! Have a good day!

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 . * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

🐈 Pile 2

10 of swords, 9 of cups, 9 of pentacles, 4 of swords, unicorn

Same enough with the first pile, but you guys are more into worrying about world’s materials side. Financial. Sorry that I can not precisely say, but most of the people that picking this pile really are busy be anxious about financial, and small percentage aren’t (that’s what I heard, pls blame the spirit if it’s wrong ☹.JK JK) what more funny is, some are already financially independent yet still get haunt of being not enough. I understand, economic changes, prices changes, taxes, paying for family, your own saving and needs ladadee ladadoo. But if you worry and not feeling enough because relating about your life style- …Idk what to say about that, ok? 😂

Tell yourself that you are enough, you are luckier than others. I know things about money are hard. Your hard work won’t betray you. You might get luckier at the end of September because 9 of cups and pentacles are coming out! Also the unicorn. Unexpected good things might happen. Now it’s your task to manifest the good!

Thank you so much for visiting my reading! Please stay healthy, and check down bellow if you're interested to tipping! This is not a must! Once again thank you! Have a good day!

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 . * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

🍊 Pile 3

the judgement, knight of cups, the empress, 10 of wands, turtle

This last pile is like that one meme where a dog sit in a room that is on fire and say, ‘It’s fine’  😭. As this is general collective reading, of course we are all in the same unfathomable mundane issues; feeling overwhelmed, stressing out, under pressure, anxious about things bla bla bla. But you guys are in the calmer side, and yes, you are right to reflect on your past actions and considering choices carefully. Try to nurture yourself more, try to be there for yourself by you in with your feelings and pursuing what you want, you will be more in the path that you are desired.

Remember to approach your situation with patience and a steady pace. Think carefully with your choices, follow your heart, nurture your creative endeavours, and tell yourself that it’s okay to ask for help. Take things one step at a time

Thank you so much for visiting my reading! Please stay healthy, and check down bellow if you're interested to tipping! This is not a must! Once again thank you! Have a good day!

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 . * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

Yahoo! That's all I have for my second collective reading. I hope you guys enjoy it! ^^

and if you want to tipping for support, or helping me in my general because lately I'm trying to use tarot reading to help me financially, I'm open for a reading, 1 question for $5 in paragraphs in total of 5 cards. Please contact me through dm. Thank you! 💕

Tip on ko-fi

Tip through paypal

[crushedsweets]

I know you spoke about how things would "end" for Toby and Nat if O/S ever came together again, but what about Nina and Kate? I figure things would be hard for Kate seeing as she's been there for like a decade.🤔 maybe they will move to NYC idk

did you reference nyc cuz u remembered that one ask... if yes that made me smile. also u guys asking for these sort of 'good' endings remind me of Laundry & Taxes so u guys should go read it..

anyway, it is probably the hardest for kate. she has an 8th grade education, only shreds of humanity, blood on her hands, and no clue where her family is. she can't remember a single address or phone number.

just maybe, and this is difficult for me to imagine, nina could convince her to call a police department. she's been a missing person, not a wanted criminal - her family and friends all assumed she was kidnapped and killed long ago. so maybe she could go in, tell the police her name, have them search a database or two, figure SOMETHING out. go back to her dad. . .make up some story, claim amnesia of the last decade. use this a chance to get her GED and a job. but that's such an unlikely path for kate, i rlly struggle to imagine it...

so, like toby, she'd probably stick around that farm. work with toby.

i could see her asking BEN for one last bit of help, see if he could somehow go through whatever database that could get her SSN and whatnot, so she could get a job on her own . . without having to go home. maybe i should have BEN just create/steal one for Toby... regardless, she'd try to get some sort of stable footing. i could only see her working pretty physical jobs, not customer service or anything like that. maybe a job at a morgue... graveyard shifts and the sort... fitting for her.

in this circumstance, kate would try to stay with toby as long as he'd let her. but if he's with clocky, things would be pretty cramped, and get tense. so maybe she'd go live with jack for a long while... quiet, peaceful, familiar.

if nina and kate were together(or getting there), then i think . .

nina would beg kate to move in with her, stay full time at the apartment. it'd be hard at first, only to get even more difficult. they'd start arguing, kate would leave for days. not because she's angry with nina, but she's scared that if kate cant keep her emotions in check, the O/S syndrome will set right back in and make kate a danger.

but then she'd come back in the middle of the night, climbing into bed with an exhausted nina, pretending nothing bad happened. and then nina would wake up and she'd have to ask why kate left and kate would be like ? isnt it obvious. we were arguing. and ninas like BUT THATS NOT THE POINT and they'd get overwhelmed and have to deal with it again. cuz ninas not letting kate go. and kate doesn't wanna go.

once kate starts getting paychecks, she's terrible at saving. immediately blows it on nina, as thanks for all nina's done. buying her dresses, jewelry, ordering meals, skincare, spending hours going thru the magazines nina has around. nina would ask her to save a bit more, and she would listen, and then realize it's probably more helpful to buy things like groceries, pay bills, etc. but money doesn't hold much meaning to her, she never attributed her terrible life to a lack of money, so she's still quick to throw it away to make nina happy . . but nina would start sitting her down and being like STOP WASTING UR MONEY!!!! . oddly enough kate finds comfort in being told what to do. feels like guidance, in a way? especially because she KNOWS nina does it with love. not so kate does what she wants

and eventually, they'd be able to save to move. regrettably, not to NYC, because that's too expensive for either of them. but somewhere nice... a quiet neighborhood, preferably only a 20-ish minute drive from any fun attraction nina wants to visit. i could see them agreeing on somewhere near a beach(though that'd be far in the future cuz expensive..). the forest was so suffocating to kate, so the openness of the ocean would be a good change of pace

i think kate just wants to lay on a bed with blankets fresh out the dryer.

[writingforatwistedworld]

How to NOT get screwed over when getting a new job

Ok, some of you might be “Uh... Why is this on a fanfic blog? (and where is a new fic? It's coming.)” Why I am addressing this is because I know that some of you are at that age when you search for a job.

Before I start, some background info: this was my first job. My parents were always supportive of me since one of them is an immigrant who knows how hard it is if you don't have the right papers in the right country. So they agreed on helping me financially until I had graduated. You know, so I have a good chance of getting a decent paying easy job. I am no genius so they also wanted me to focus more on studying than some sort of side thing happening in my life.

Now, I am not going to say here who my employer is since I signed a paper not to share stuff about them on social media. I am not violating my contract by not saying who they are since it can not be traced back to them. (Already messed up enough that I have to say this but ok, moving on.)

The first red flag was actually already present when I signed my contract. (Crazy, right? Bad employers doing a shady job since the beginning.) So I sit there , doe eyed, singing it. The person who was the representative of the company, in my case, more or less flew over the most important things but didn't get into details. My first advice: Nope. This is not good. First red flag.

Go into detail. Ask them specifically how many hours per week can be added with or without your consent. Some companies are a bit more relaxed and allow you to choose whether you want to work longer than you signed up for or not. Now, the guy said something along the lines of “You could”. Yeah, no. I always have the long shifts and from what I can see, everyone does. We are all overworked and are in desperate need of more hands. (I am not going to be advertising them. Don't worry. They even want to cut costs by not hiring any more than the absolutely necessary minimum of workers. And they wonder why peeps go on strikes...)

The second is, he was awfully relaxed in his way of talking to me. Not in an “I'm relaxed because today is a not-so-busy day” but in a “we are friends and this is a big family”. A bit too much like he was an old friend. This had been a bit weird for me since the beginning because, well, the guy literally decides whether I am getting hired or not. Shouldn't he be a bit more, idk, professional? But I noticed sooner than later (to be exact, one week after I started working for them) that the guy was simply trying to butter me up. Not in the typical way of companies roping in workers. No. He had to do this because otherwise there wouldn't be a single reason why you would start working there.

I talked about that point with one of my friends. They have a bit more experience with finding jobs and they explained to me that such “buddy-buddy” strategies are always a red flag for them. If a company is good in what they do they don't have the need for such a thing. They have a more professional way of recruiting and whilst a joke or two might be made they are by far not mostly made out of relaxed chit-chatter.

There might be even more factors that I don't even notice being at play here. But he made me sign a contract that 1. makes me to work even longer than I signed up for on some weeks (like, way too much but I am not allowed to speak about details here) and 2. pays me less than I was promised. Heck, I even had to call the German taxing department or however you call it in English because they even put me in the wrong tax-paying class. Now, if this was a small company then ok, not cool as well but at least you could push all of that on the fact that they are so small and might even be inexperienced that they make mistakes but (and a huge reason why I don't lose a word about who they are) such a huge company? They make at least MILLIONS. This is also why I avoid getting into a fight with them. If they were to throw me in front of a judge then I wouldn't be able to keep up with them. They have so much money that they can literally buy themselves out of a situation.

I hope this helps you if you are searching for a new job or are right now on the lookout for your first one.

Stay safe and healthy! (Pardon me if I made some spelling errors. I wrote this on my phone.)

[sca-nerd]

renn fair tips!!!

yes bring water, but also figure out how you can bring that water, some places only let you bring in sealed, never opened, bottles (cause alcohol is a large part of event revenue)

CASH, most sellers have got a square card reader or paypal or something, but those work at the whims of cell service, and cell service tends to suck in parks

also with cash depending on the seller they might just wave the tax. things are priced to even dollars most of the time

the crafts people (leather, blacksmiths, silversmiths, glassblowers) are where you really want to "focus" your money, not because there's anything wrong with the clothing stalls, it's just that it's harder to get those items online, and you're helping a small business

also some of the clothing sellers just buy in bulk from a place like amazon and clip off the tag, "wevez" is where i get my skirts, and the price markup can be anywhere from 2 to 3 times what you'd pay if you bought from the seller directly

the end of the last day of the weekend you can get food for cheaper, so if you're staying until close and don't want to find a fast food joint, get a turkey leg

bed bugs, (SPRAYS DO NOT WORK ON THESE MOTHER FUCKERS) the horrible truth of the matter is, it is a valid concern, moreso since COVID. so if you do buy anything, im talking books, tunics, hair wraps, corsets, trousers, a kilt. anything a bed bug could be hanging out in, you put that in a seperate plastic bag, seal it, and stick it in the freezer when you get home. then you beat out the thing a few hours later.

this doesn't kill them, but it does make them hibernate, which means you can shake them out then kill them or if youre feeling vindictive, pop them in the oven, a minimum of 120F for 90 mins gets all bugs and possible eggs. you could also put the things in your dryer on high for the longest setting, but i personally prefer the oven (and not just because i don't have a drier)

business cards! i personally collect business cards for convience and maybe one day i'll go back to pursuing graphic design, but having a designated pocket for business cards or pamphlets cause you may be grabbing a lot of them

the vibes: Its a bunch of weird nerds getting dressed up to play pretend and get drunk in the park. It can get weird, and it can get raunchy (not horny, just crass) i have witnessed several different parents huff off with their kid cause a performer made a low brow joke that was obvious enough that the kid knew smth dirty was said, MOST of the people are chill with boundries, but some never got out of that phase of being a dick cause they think it's funny

speaking of phases, renn faires are still the only place i have ever been where you've got the flagrantly queer and menanist douchebags bumping shoulders. like side eyes are made im sure, but you can walk down a path, past somebody in the loudest, most obviously gay garb you have seen outside of a drag show, then a few feet behind them is somebody else with a trump denim vest

also, back to the rauchy bit, there will likely be people there who are cool, but use outdated/offensive lingo. like I got called a fairy by a guy waiting in line for a kebob, he did try and backpedel, but im fine with being called that and his girlfriend (who obviously dragged him there) was dressed up like a fairy, so jokes were had and expensive kebab's purchased (idk what they used to season those things but they were so fkin good for just being some meat on a stick)

if you do a craft (knitting/crochet) check if you can bring your supplies in because some places don't let guest bring in knitting needles (they are often 11 in long pointy sticks so fair enough)

ASK QUESTIONS not just at the small semi educational areas they sometimes have, but also the people selling things, i love hearing people talk about their crafts (also renn faire drama is real and it is wild, and it's much more exciting because it's effect on you is almost null)

WATER WATER WATER

I KNOW I SAID THIS AT THE TOP BUT IM SAYING IT AGAIN

DRINK SOME FUCKING WATER

some faires have pub crawls and i have witnessed many a stumbling drunk get escorted out by EMTs cause he didn't pace himself and drank on an empty stomach

[jennaajoseph]

Hiii! 💛

I'm back on duty and I'm here to tickle the collective fandom brain.

With Presumed Innocent coming out soon (aaaah), I would just like to hear all your thoughts on Rusty. 

Is he guilty? If so, would we still do unholy things with him (duh, obviously)? Or is he just an innocent little guy and only guilty of cheating and murdering pussy? He obviously likes being choked and I'm not complaining. What else might he like? Is he a pancakes or bacon/scrambled egg breakfast kinda guy? He does need his protein tho, for several reasons... 👀

Please let me/us know all your thoughts and hopes for the new show and the character we're blessed with this summer, thank youuuu.

Paying my Rusty tax for inspiration ✨

· · ───────────── ·𝜗𝜚· ───────────── · ·

Hello again Daphne <33!! I swear you are always sending the most interesting questions !! ( I am NOT good at answering questions like this, sorry if it doesn't make any sense 😭 )

Presumed innocent is coming out this week and I'm so excited for it???? YALL HAVE NO IDEA HOW HYPED I AM!!!

Honestly I think he would be similar to Jerry Brinson from Wildlife (2018) just more ( way more ) freaky version of him, if you know what I mean lol ( also I hope that I'm not the only one that thinks this way 😭 [ go watch wildlife btw, it's a good movie... ] )

I saw some people speculating that his wife might actually be the guilty one, and to be honest? I love that idea ( but I also think it might be a bit obvious?? ) I watched a lot of movies with lots of different endings, and plot twists, and I don't really know what I can expect 😭 BUT as I said... Rusty is a total freak ( and a cheater ) so we can expect basically anything lmao. Despite all that, I think Rusty's wife is not innocent anyway, I think she's done something suspicious too... ( maybe she also cheated or sum??? Idk )

BUUUUT I'm sure with one thing, Jake Gyllenhaal fanfics will EXPLODE with content after this show ( and I'm not complaining about that... ) I really hope that I'll be able to write something for him too lol

Thank you so much for including me in this!!!

— ˚⊱✧⊰˚ 10.06.2024

· · ───────────── ·𝜗𝜚· ───────────── · ·

[pseudowho]

im the close friend dating anon (he wasnt my boyfriend but i'd liked him for over two years, so ig that makes things a little better, even though she still broke the most obvious girl code). i just read the onion scheme anon's ask and ive been laughing since. if i was a vengeful person, id absolutely do those to them.

however im more of a karma person, and i believe it will get to them sooner or later (my best friend has been planning their downfall). i recently found out some tea on their first date and id like to share it bcz i think its kind of funny.

so this friend of mine comes from generational wealth, her family is one of the richest families in our country. and the guy, while being upper middle class, isnt anywhere near her tax bracket. so on their first date, he took her to a very expensive restaurant and she ended up ordering multiple of the most expensive items, and didnt even finish any of the food. he then had to pay for the entire meal and it was wayy out of his budget.

now this may not seem like a big deal, or i might come off as mean for saying all of that negatively. but mind you, we are 18 year old highschool students. we start college next year and im sure most of us have financial stress right now (not that she can relate). the bill they got is more than the monthly salary i get at my job.

like i understand guys may want to pay on dates, but then she wouldve been a little more mindful in ordering 😭. ever since everything happened, ive been seeing her in a whole new light and honestly she's so tone deaf. the reason i still tolerate her is for the sake of the friendgroup and honestly i cant wait to graduate and never see them again.

also idk if you take emoji anons but id like to be 🕊️

All I'm saying, is entitlement starts early and is one of the hardest negative traits to shift if it remains established all the way into adulthood.

It sounds like your friend, unless she has a major shake-up, will never stop associating material wealth with displays of love/affection. Any person I've met, where that forms a foundational expectation upon their partner in a relationship, is never satisfied.

The truth is, if you adore someone, you could be sharing a small McDonald's fries, and their presence alone will turn whatever you do on the date into treasure and gold.

So...sorry for your guy who will bankrupt himself trying to buy your 'friend's affections. Sorry for the girl who will likely struggle to find a partner she truly wants, because all of her choices rely on 'getting something that someone else wants'; she saw something golden that you wanted, and took it. Because she could. Entitlement.

I really am sorry. Ultimately while you and this guy may never have ended up together, no true friend would weaponise that against you.

See it as a lesson learned, kiddo. Shed as many tears as you need over it, but never think that you didn't get him because you weren't good enough.

Perhaps he, too, will learn a lesson (though as an 18 year old boy, he's still got a long way to go), and one day you'll have grown into each other, and you'll laugh about this.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[fuck-customers]

💋Fuck you to my store who after all this time, after me bringing in thousands of dollars every single shift (I have to keep track of the numbers so I KNOW our profits are stellar), after putting me in a totally new job with more expectations and no pay raise for that, decided to finally give me a raise after six months of……….. fifteen pitiful cents. Even my boss himself said that was horrible and that he wished it was up to him because he’d pay me more. I just don’t understand how I practically live in this fucking store, I go above and beyond at a position I technically never even signed up for (still don’t understand why we didn’t get raises back then when we first opened our new makeup dept and were basically forced to do a much more taxing job for the same pay as before), just to still be tight on money. I don’t even have my own life anymore bc I’m always working. My answer to everything whether it’s friends or family or just something fun is always “sorry I have to work this weekend.” And all that just to still not be able to make ends meet? All that to get a slap in the face “raise” of fifteen cents? The second I walked out of that office I was looking for new jobs. It’s just hard because honestly nothing I can find can beat my stores pay, that’s how pathetic America is. Gotta love being effectively trapped by poverty wages amirite.

Wish me luck guys because all of this bs is bringing back my suicidal thoughts…. It was rly bad a couple months ago but I was able to mellow out somewhat, but this just reopened all of it. I’ll never be free from the capitalist machine, will I? My life is not even my own. Tell me, what is the point? What is the point of living if your life is owned by a dead end job? I just don’t understand how people can do this for years and years without offing themselves. Idk maybe I’m just a “lazy gen z” but I don’t think people should work their entire lives away, and for nothing at that because again, the pay is shit. So I’ve been extremely depressed because this is just not a reality I can accept. I would truly rather die than spend a third of my life (avg US worker spend 1/3 of their lifetime working) toiling away for shit wages. Truly my only hope is possibly getting on disability benenfits, but I doubt I’ll have any luck with that. I’m running out of options and I’m spiraling very quickly to the bottom so we’ll see if I’m the next body that gets churned up by the capitalist machine

Posted by admin Rodney.