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heartiis · 2 months ago

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the big apple ꩜ .ᐟ pt.2

pt.1 pt.3

pairing - ellie x reader

synopsis - you've just moved to nyc and ellie's your new neighbor. she hates you though and you don't know why :((

cw - mean ellie, eventual side gig dealer ellie, eventual weed, tattoo artist ellie, cigs, drinking, no smut this time but there will be eventually, swearing

a/n - second chapter, i hope you like it!! the pic is not how I want you to imagine reader bc I like to keep her pretty neutral in terms of what she looks like in order for u to fill that in, it's just a pic I found!

The four of you rode the subway towards the club. Dina and Jesse were quite talkative, and you managed to make conversation with them, but Ellie was dead quiet. You wondered if it was always like this or if it was because of you. From what little you’d seen of her interacting with her friends before you came into the mix, you guessed it was the latter.

You tried to pay it no mind, and for the most part it worked. Dina and Jesse were fun to talk to, and you felt excited for the night. You’d never been to the subway this late and it wasn’t uncomfortably packed like in the mornings. However, there were still plenty of people who judging by their outfits looked like they were going to the club as well.

You got to chatting about your back story. You told them you used to live in a small, conservative town which you were fond of in some ways, but that was ultimately not the place for you. They were impressed that you’d made the move on your own, saying that it must’ve taken guts to come from a town like that to New York all on your own, and at such a young age. You told them you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Leaving your hometown wasn’t an act of bravery, it was…survival. When you said that, it was the only time Ellie turned her head to look at you.

You talked about your job, and told them they should come visit you sometime for a drink on the house, earning you some excited chatter. You found out that Jesse was a freelance graphic designer and Dina worked at an independent bookstore to pay the bills but did theater on the side. You were fascinated hearing them talk about it. Jesse worked on his own terms, while Dina was passionate about what she did.

Then they started talking about Ellie’s job as a tattoo artist. They showed you pictures of work she’d done, all her own designs. You weren’t very knowledgeable about what constituted as a good tattoo but you were pretty sure she was really good at her job. The designs were gorgeous, and you could tell she had put a lot of passion into them as well as just technique. You looked at her as they talked. She was making a point not to look back at you.

Your attention was drawn to the skin showing on the parts of her t-shirt that were cut out. It was inked at the ribs, which you hadn’t noticed before. You wondered about what other designs were hidden under her clothes.

When you got off the subway, Jesse led you down two blocks to the place he’d talked about. There was already a line growing by the minute. Thankfully, it moved relatively fast, and soon you were at the door, showing the bouncer your fake id. When he waved you in you made a point to look back at Ellie, smile, and shrug. If she wanted to hate you so much, why not give her a good reason to?

Her expression was passive on the surface, but you could feel the hardness of her stare.

The club was, at first, a little daunting to you. You’d only been to bars with pool tables and jukebox machines. The lights, packed bodies and fake smoke were a lot on the senses, but you soon began to enjoy the chaos and your anxiety melted away. The four of you got drinks at the bar—beers for Ellie and Jesse, and a vodka cran for Dina. You followed her example, sighing when you looked at the price.

You stood there by the counter, sipping your drink, unsure of what to do now. Should you go straight to the dance floor? How did this work?

Dina slid in next to you, smirking. “Hey. Sorry about Ellie. She can be a real asshole.” She and Jesse were off to the side, not too far away, but out of earshot due to the noise.

“It’s fine. I’m glad you guys invited me. I guess I just wish I knew why she hates me so much.”

Dina tilted her head to the side. “Oh, I don’t think she hates you. She’s just kind of weird around new people. She’s been stressed about her job, and I guess she wanted to unwind today? Then Jesse invites you to come with us, which I obviously have no problem with—but now she has to deal with a new person. You know, judging by what she said about your id, she probably just thought you were uptight. And after what you said about being from a small conservative town and all, she probably thought you were conservative too. But I don’t think you’d move here, or be here”—she waved a hand around.—“if you were.” She smirked. “She’ll warm up to you though, I think.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” You laugh.

Dina’s brows shoot up. “What, is there something I don’t know about?”

“Uh, well, it’s nothing really. It’s just…”

“Uh huh…Go on.”

“Well, when the bouncer let me in with my fake id, I kind of looked back at Ellie and smiled. And uh. Shrugged.”

Dina turned to you, slapped her hand on the counter and laughed. “Oh my God! Fuck, that’s funny. I mean, it wouldn’t be a big deal with most people, but Ellie? Yeah, that definitely pissed her off. Totally deserved, though. I would’ve killed to see her face.”

You flashed a smile. “It was pretty damn great.”

“Damn, y/n! I didn’t know you were ballsy like that. But you know what? She respects ballsy girls. She just has to get over her pride first.”

“Oh, I imagine that’s going to be hard for her.”

Dina laughed. “Yup.” She took a sip of her drink, then looked off to the side and raised her brows. “Look who’s already getting down.”

You turned your face to see what she was talking about. Ellie was on the dance floor next to a pretty girl, gazing at her with a look you hadn’t seen on her face before. It wasn’t exactly of pure lust, but there was definitely something there. Her eyes were crawling all over the girl’s body. You felt a pang of jealousy, which pissed you off. You were supposed to be over your little crush already. You wanted to be.

“She hooks up with a lot of girls, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Leaves them all pent up for her, then ditches them. It’s pretty shitty, but I guess she never promised them anything in the first place.” Dina finished her drink in one big gulp and grimaced just the slightest bit. “These days she’s not really the dating type.”

You were almost done with your drink, and still a little bit buzzed off the wine. Curiosity was getting the best of you. It also helped that Dina was so nice, and definitely not sober as well. Two drunk people just made each other drunker. “Bad experience with an ex?” You asked.

“Oh yeah. That and she’s always so busy with work, I guess she just doesn’t see the point.”

You turned to the counter so Ellie and the girl were out of your sight then finished the vodka cran. “I guess being a tattoo artist must take up a lot of your time.”

“That and her side gig.” You looked at her, and she winked. “I’ll let her tell you about that.” She glanced at both of your empty glasses and pouted. “Wanna get a tequila shot then go dance?” Her pout turned into a wide grin.

You mirrored it. “Hell yeah.”

You’d lost track of how long you’d been dancing. Between the move and the new job, it’d been a while since you’d had alcohol, and your tolerance was not what it usually was. Which was perfect to you. You were just the right amount of drunk, enough to have fun and not care about whether or not you looked silly and not enough to the point where you felt out of control or sick.

The music was great to dance to, and the speakers were of course the best you’d ever heard. The notes seemed to almost reverberate inside you. As the music got more intense you raised your hands and jumped to the beat, then accidentally bumped hard into somebody.

“Shit—“ You said, but swallowed the sorry when you saw who it was.

An annoyed looking Ellie was standing there, right next to the girl from before. She gaped back at you when she noticed that Ellie had stopped moving. The tension was palpable.

“Hey, Elliee.” Dina danced closer. “Having fun?”

“I need a smoke, actually.” She started to move away without the girl.

“Ooh, same!” Without asking, Dina grabbed your hand and led you to the outdoor smoking area.

The smell of cigarette smoke hit you as soon as you stepped outside. You felt a little embarrassed to be there, but Dina had been the one to drag you out. And a drunk cig did sound amazing at that moment. Dina waved to Ellie, who was lying back against the wall lighting a cigarette.

“Hey. You know where Jesse is?” Dina said.

“I saw him talking to some girl at the bar on the way here. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Cool.” Dina placed her hands behind her back and smiled sweetly. “Can we bum one off you?” Ellie pushed off the wall and took her pack of Marlboro reds from out of her pocket, letting Dina take one. “Remind me why you never buy your own?”

“Because,” she began. “I don’t wanna get hooked like you.” She looked back at you while she took Ellie’s lighter and began to light the cig. “Shit, I forgot to ask if you even smoke. I guess that living here you kind of just assume everyone does?”

Ellie scoffed.

“I do,” You said, ignoring her. “I usually bum cigs from my friends too. I’m more of a smoker when drinking.”

“Right! That’s the best way to do it.” Dina blew the puff of smoke upwards so it wouldn’t hit your face, then passed it to you. “So, y/n. Anyone in there caught your eye?”

You smiled sheepishly, taking a drag. “Uh, not yet. I wish.”

“Well, what are you into? Boys, girls, your type…you know.”

Ellie. You were into girls like Ellie. You bit your lip. She was peering at you, tip of her cigarette burning orange as she took a drag. If you started describing your type, saying you liked masc, tatted up girls with baggy clothes, how would that look?

“Um…” You started. “Girls.” Ellie’s brows raised just the slightest bit before she looked away. How’s that for conservative?

Dina leaned back into the wall. “A win for us! And what else?” If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was flirting with you. But it seemed to you that that was just her style, friendly and flirty at once.

“Um. I like…girls who aren’t that feminine.” You hoped that was less obvious than straight up saying masc.

Dina smiled without teeth, brows slightly raised. Fuck, she was onto you, wasn’t she? You hadn’t exactly been that discrete, poking around about Ellie’s love life. And what must she be thinking about you being into a girl that had only treated you like shit? But then again, Dina seemed like she wasn’t the judging type. In fact, she seemed quite open-minded when it came to that stuff…And like she enjoyed the drama. You had to admit that so did you. You wouldn’t be into girls like Ellie if you didn’t.

“Well then, y/n. Let’s go find you a girl.”

The girl Dina had pointed out to you had hair cropped close to her head, and wore black from head to toe. You did in fact find her attractive. Not as much as Ellie, you thought, before pushing that concept away. Ellie didn’t like you. She’d made that clear enough. Besides, you were drunk and wanted to have a good time.

It was that very same state of being drunk that gave you enough courage to come up to the girl and ask her if she wanted to dance. She said yes with a cute smile on her face, and the two of you made your way onto the dance floor. You were a bit shy at first, but she just kept grinning at you as if she was so into you that you eventually gained enough confidence to dance the way you wanted, moving your body without reservations.

At some point, you noticed Ellie staring.

She was at the bar with Dina and Jesse, who had appeared out of nowhere and was currently drinking a beer with her. You could see his mouth move as he talked to her, but she just sat there leaning against the counter, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You couldn’t parse what her expression meant. But you knew one thing, that she was watching what you were doing.

You stepped in closer to the girl, touching her shoulders, running your hands over her clavicle. The both of you started dancing slower. She put her hands on your waist. You got in close, so close she couldn’t tell where your eyes were really at. You moved your body lazily, deliberately, tilting your head this way and that as the girl moved her hands down your body to toy with the hem of your dress.

Ellie kept staring, not once deviating her gaze.

pt.3

a/n - heyy so... sorry about forgetting to warn you guys about the slow burn. i'm planning on getting the next chapter done and up tomorrow tho, and I promise it's going to be good ;)

also, do nyc clubs have outdoor smoking areas like they do where I live? idk. let's just pretend they for sure do...

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #fanfic #ellie x fem reader #dealer ellie #tlou2 #ellie x y/n

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so-i-did-this-thing · 23 days ago

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Hello Nicholas!

I hope this isn't a weird question, but I saw in one of your posts that you used to be in a huge amount of debt and now you're living more comfortably- how did you manage to get out of debt? I feel like every time I start even trying to figure out where to start, it's just all too big to ever get out from under. Do you have any advice for me?

Hope you have a great day!

Hey there! Yes, from about 2007-2010 (before I transitioned), I was making less than $10k/year. I defaulted on all my credit cards, exhausted my retirement, and nearly lost my house. It sucked, and in 2024, I'm finally start to feel somewhat secure. What I learned (assuming living in the US, I also did not have student loan debt):

I had to first figure out the sources of my debt. A big chunk of it was because of bad spending habits due to mental illness (hoarding + retail therapy when I was dysphoric/depressed). Another chunk was from being in an abusive friendship. Another, from being unemployed. And the last, was general capitalism (this was during the housing crisis.)

I started working on improving myself to curb behaviors that led to debt. I started working on my hoarding. I started transition to improve my mental health (had to sell some stuff to afford HRT). It took until 2015 to ditch my abuser, alas.

I started working on new job skills. I swallowed my pride and got an office job after a failed 3-year stint at freelancing. It was shitty, but enough to take care of my income emergencies -- keeping my house out of foreclosure. I got a better job 8 months later. It also sucked and I was in it for 7 years, but eventually changed industries and that's when my career took off. Because with each new job, I've gotten better and better pay.

I started using budgeting software. YNAB is my favorite. I try to account for every single dollar I have.

I started spending smarter. Food was the expense I had the most control over. I went to the salvage grocery store (you can find non-expired stuff if you hunt) and bought the "ugly" produce 1 day away from rotting from the local markets. I actually managed to eat well once I found these grocery stores, and my food bill became a fraction of what it'd been at typical grocery stores. I do wish that I had given food pantries a shot, but I was in denial about my poverty at the time.

I sold a ton of useless crap. I got rid of a good chunk of my nerd "collectibles". I only miss a few things over a decade later.

I negotiated with my debt collectors. I managed to set up payment plans with my credit card companies, condo association, and the IRS. I also did a debt consolidation loan once I qualified and was sure I could commit to the monthly payments. It forced me to be super strict about my budget and for about 5 years I didn't buy much for myself. It sucked, but I cleared a bunch of debt that way.

I got help from my family. I was embarrassed to tell my family about my predicament, but it became impossible to hide. I got help cleaning out my hoard and my mother has gracefully given me generous cash gifts every now and then. Never enough to be life-changing, but enough to give me a mental breather.

I played the credit score game. This one seems counter-intuitive, and requires some self-control about not abusing credit cards. Many people recommend the "snowball" method for paying off cards (pay off your lowest debt asap, then go to the next one), but I went with a "credit utilization" method (bring my highest used cards down to the next utilization level, then move to other cards) so I would see immediate changes in my credit score. What is credit card utilization? It's the percentage of how much of your credit card you're using. A card with a $1,000 limit and $100 on it = 10% utilization. Your credit score changes when you cross the following thresholds: 90%, 70%, 50%, 30%, 10%. Once my credit score started going up past 400 (especially as defaults started falling away), I applied for a secured card. As I started using that better, I applied for a few more cards, then for credit line increases every 6 months. My car insurance rates were tied to my credit score, so as soon as that improved, I switched companies and saved money there.

Mistakes I made:

Being in denial that I was poor. I didn't really look for resources on how to live while in poverty. This hurt me a lot because I ended up neglecting myself out of pride, which made my situation even worse.

Payday loans. I got stuck in the payday cycle for about 8 years. I wish I had sold more stuff or asked family for money to have never needed that initial loan. Once you are in the cycle, it becomes very difficult to get out.

Not going to a food bank.

Not asking for help sooner. And not just financial help.

Not getting out of abusive situations sooner. This is hard, and I sympathize with anyone in a similar position. But if you think it's time to move on, trust your gut - don't sacrifice yourself for people who don't care about you.

Ignoring debt collectors, because I was too afraid to negotiate for a plan. The IRS was so patient with me in the end, even after defaulting twice on plans.

Not considering getting a roommate to reduce costs, or not thinking of doing more things like shared meals with my fellow poor friends. Again, denial and pride. Humility is not a bad word and I wished I had learned it sooner.

Not changing jobs sooner. Curbing my hoarding and getting a better job are responsible for about 90% of me being where I am financially today.

Getting out of debt is a marathon. It took over a decade for me, and I am *still* feeling the sting of poverty. I wish you the best of luck. Folks are welcome to tack on specific tricks and strategies -- this is just a general outline of my particular journey.

#chit chat #my most toxic traits at the time were individualism and stoicism and by god they nearly killed me

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otakubimbo · 1 month ago

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Sunday Dinner

Logan Howlett (Worse Logan) x AFAB Mutant Reader !

Slight Angst. SLOW Burn. Minors DNI!

You were preparing for your regular Sunday dinner when you get a few unexpected guests at your doorstep.

previous | next

Music flowed through your apartment as you busied yourself with making your Sunday dinner. A simple menu, pot roast, smashed potatoes, broccolini, and homemade gravy to go on top of everything. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to make a dessert, and you knew Wade was bound to complain about it, rolling your eyes preemptively at the future tantrum. Right as you were finishing up on the gravy, leaving it to simmer there was a knock at your door.

You excitedly went to open the door, you actually loved Sunday dinners, with a smile on your face you opened your door to see Al, Peter, Wade, …... and Logan.

“You don’t mind that I invited my lil honey badger. Ya know he's basically part of the family now anyway.” Wade grins making his way into your apartment.

“I brought pie,” Peter says excitedly handing it to you as he also makes his way inside.

“that’s actually great because I didn’t have any time to make dessert.” You place the pie on the counter, waiting for the inevitable tantrum from Wade. It didn’t take more than a second for him to start his spiel about \how you must not love him anymore since you had forgotten about his favorite part Sunday dinner. “Oh, shut the hell up,” You comment as you begin to put everything in the serving dishes., “I got caught up at the studio, there's a gallery showing coming up soon and I was asked to submit some pieces. You can go one Sunday without a homemade dessert.”

Even with your very valid excuse, Wade acts as if you’ve shot him multiple times.

“Your dumb ass lucky she still invites you over. Don’t worry about that jackass. But if you ever need some inspiration, you know where to find me. “Al tells you, knowing that she’s definitely talking about doing drugs. You giggle softly and thank her.

“Gallery?” Logan surprisingly asks and you’re taken aback, almost forgetting that he was here.

“Ah yes, our lil matter-of-fact is a painter. She gotta pay the bills somehow, even though I've been told her that with a body like that she can get a lot more money elsewhere” Wade interjects before you get to respond, throwing his arm over your shoulder which you push off with a scowl.

“And I’m a freelance artist, I have some of my paintings around the house.” You say trying to sound confident in your creations, you don’t know why he's making you feel shy, you had so much pride in your art. There was a piece of you in every painting you did, a page from the story of your life. Logan didn’t move from his seat, but his eyes wandered around the room, taking in the paintings that graced your walls, some of your more happy-inspired pieces. But there was one that particularly caught his eye, a painting truly straight from your own heart. His gaze was locked on that one for longer than you would have liked, he almost looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. Luckily for you, there was another knock on your door.

“Anyways that’s probably Cat, she said she was going to try to make it, she had deadlines for her column that she needed to finish.” You wipe your hands on the frilly apron that you’re wearing, Logan smirks at your appearance, that apron didn’t match you at all, but it was cute.

As you open the door with a bright smile on your face to greet your friend, you are face to face with not your friend at all. It was the face of your ex-boyfriend, the one who cheated on you and whom you haven’t contacted since you found out.

“I knew you would be home. I need to talk to you.” Caleb looks at you, then past you to the guests in your apartment then back to look at you.

“The offer to cut his dick off still stands,” Wade says from his position at the dinner table, making you sigh, pushing Caleb out of your doorway and shutting the door behind you.

“What are you doing here Caleb?” You question as your brow furrows, hands balled to your sides.

“We need to talk, and you won’t answer my calls or texts.” He huffs as if he should be the one who’s annoyed by this circumstance.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We are over, that’s it” You fold your arms over your chest in an attempt to protect yourself somehow.

“Oh, you can’t be serious,” He rubs his face in frustration, “You know how difficult it is being with you, and it just took a toll on me for a minute and I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice level, not trying to garner any of the attention from your guests inside, “You slept with Liz, how the hell is that a mistake???”

“You don’t understand.”

“There is nothing to understand, you need to leave.”

He groans again at your difficulty to speak to him about this, “Just hear me out for fucking once, I was under a lot of stress and then having to deal with your stuff on top of that. It’s a lot, you’re a lot. I just needed a little stress relief; you have to be able to understand that.” So this was your fault? You were the reason he cheated on you because you were so difficult to be with, but then why was he here? For your forgiveness? To get back with you? Fuck, you didn’t even care because it felt like you were about to break. You didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him.

“Leave, Caleb.”

“Ugh you’re not listening to me; this is one of the problems right here.”

Before you can tell him to go again, you feel the warmth of a chest on your back and a hand making you take a step back into your apartment.

“I think you’re not listening to her bub; she told you to leave” Logan basically growls at your ex. A little shaky you look up at Logan, his jaw is set tight, and he looks right pissed, your gaze then falls back onto Caleb who takes a scared step back.

Caleb looks between the two of you, and scoffs laughing bitterly, “Looks like you moved on quickly” he turns his attention to Logan, “Don’t waste your time with her, she’s dangerous and damaged goods, no fixing that one.” His last comment before Logan slams the door in his face, going back to his spot at the table.

It takes a moment to process all that just happened, but you shake yourself out of it quickly, “Anyways, let's go ahead and eat I put too much work into this to get cold.” You put on your fakest smile as you sit down and start serving yourself. It’s clear someone wants to say something.

“So that offer about his dick.”

“Shut it Wade” Logan growls as he follows your lead, reading the room surprisingly well, “You got anything good to drink?”

“Uhm yeah,” you say as you get up, wiping your hands on your apron again before taking it off, this made Logan notice the tattoo you had on the back of your shoulder. The X-Men symbol, so you really did use to be one, interesting. You smiled as you pulled out a bottle from your alcohol fridge, you preferred your drinks chilled.

“Okay so this is a rum, but it was aged in a whiskey barrel, I think you’ll really like it.” You say as you pour him a glass, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“We will see,” Logan responded, and you just sat back with a confident smirk as he took a sip. He hums after the first taste, “Not bad” he raises the glasses towards you.

“Told you, “You smile for real this time and dinner commences.

Eventually, everyone leaves and now it’s just you and your thoughts. You sigh as you clean up your place, wash and put away dishes and Caleb’s words stay on your mind. The way he blamed you for his actions and there was a part of you that actually thought the same. After finishing cleaning, you grab your emergency pack of smoke and make your way outside. You didn’t smoke often, you tried not to at the very least, even if you were a mutant that had some regenerative powers, they weren’t perfect, and smoking was still terrible for you.

As you light your cigarette, stepping outside your apartment building you spot Logan, leaning on the rail smoking a cigar.

His eyes catch yours, as you take your first drag, “You smoke?”

“Occasionally, what are you doing out here?” You ask as you stand across from him.

“Too much Wade.” Which makes you snort before taking another drag, “And you?”

“Too much thinking,” you say casually, he just hums in understanding. The two of you stand in silence, a sense of ease coming over you as you finish up your cigarette. You take your last inhale, throwing the butt to the ground and stepping on it before going to head back inside. Before you can open the door, Logan grabs your attention.

“He’s wrong you know,” Logan states nonchalantly.

“What?”

“He’s wrong about you, you don’t seem like damaged goods. I would know. Everyone has their demons.”

You don’t know whether it was the cigarette or his words making you feel lightheaded, but your face softens, and you give him a small smile, “no, he is right but that’s okay, good night, Logan”

As you go to walk inside Logan grabs your arm to stop you, he drops it almost in an instant as he feels a strange scar on your wrist. Your gaze tells him you don’t want him to ask but the feeling of the scar has a question on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t ask, and leaving him behind with questions.

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rustbeltjessie · 3 months ago

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Heyyy y’all I’m in kind of a minor emergency situation right now. We haven’t gotten food money this month due to a bunch of weird shit going on with the organization that deals with it (long story short: I have been trying to complete our renewal for over a month—since well before it was due—but every time I think it’s finally done, five days later I get a notification saying nope! You gotta send in yet another form!). I have $31 dollars in my bank account, which would be doable for a few more days, except for the fact that tomorrow I have to pay $25 (the minimum payment amount) on my credit card, cuz otherwise I’ll get late fees on that! So basically I have $6. All other bills are paid for the month, and I have a new freelance gig starting soon that should cover my bills for next month, and hopefully I’ll get food money back before then, but yeah. I desperately need $$$ so my family can eat and cover whatever other necessities come up for the rest of August.

Full disclosure: I just got back from vacation. The vacation was basically free, though—we had a free place to stay and it was a vacation with extended family who know we are broke and covered basically all our other travel expenses so that we could be there. Which was great, but a. means I can’t ask family for financial help right now because they’ve already provided it, and b. means I was not in fact recklessly spending my own money on frivolous things. (I am mentioning this because I’ll be posting photos and I don’t want anyone being like “why did you go on vacation if you were broke?”)

So yeah. If anyone can help out, I would be very grateful. I know times are tight for everyone right now, but if a number of people sent even $5, that would add up! And as always, keeping this post circulating helps, whether you can give or not.

PayPal: [email protected]

Venmo: @ JessieLynnMcMains

And if you’d like to get something in return: ko-fi.com/rustbeltjessie

Thanks in advance. 🖤

#thanks in advance #please boost #the only thing I’ve spent recklessly on recently is allergy meds #because my allergies are so so so bad right now #:)))

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aimedis · 3 months ago

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THE SIREN AND PROFESSOR - IMPERIUM LASKO/DEAR (+FREELANCER)

this was written from a prompt i got from @piffany666 so thank you and i hope you enjoy <3

cw - lasko being a creep towards freelancer as per usual, lasko being creepy in general, dear being condescending and mildly abusive ngl, lasko is toxic too, moderate hostility, couple's quarrels, not super aggressive though , mild innuendo at the end + lasko still being a creep

wc - 1.3k

Freelancer coughs and shifts uncomfortably in their seat right in front of President Moore's desk as he rambles on and on and on about some human-born superiority bullshit. Again.

They unfortunately found themselves here at least three times a week listening to the same rant. The nodding, the fake smiles and laughter, and enduring his not-at-all-subtle advances on them both verbally and physically.

The only reason they keep coming to these is the slight chance that maybe he'll let them see Vindemeator. But that only worked once in a while.

"...like us. Right, Freelancer?"

Freelancer blinks out of their zoned-out little daze to re-plaster the smile on their face, "Mhm. Of course, Mr. Moore. We human borns are special and I appreciate you telling me that.. again. Uhm, it's getting kind of late-"

Lasko's soft laugh rings unsettling in Freelancer's ears, cutting them off. They barely conceal a shiver.

"Oh please," He grins, "I've told you countless times to call me Lasko when it's just the two of us. We're too close to be on last name basis these days."

They nod slowly, the smile frozen on their face.

Lasko leans back in his desk with a satisfied smirk, "I like seeing you smile, Freelancer. You truly are beautiful."

And Freelancer tries so hard to not let their expression waver, trying not to show the disgust they felt deep in their gut.

"Thank you, Mr M- uhh Lasko.." They force a laugh, "But that's really not necessary."

Lasko scoffs playfully, "Oh, nonsense. I can acknowledge a pretty face when I see one. And you definitely fit that bill."

They stifle what feels like their hundredth sigh when the door to Lasko's office swings open unceremoniously.

Both Freelancer and Lasko look at the new person in the room with very different expressions. Freelancer with one of curiosity and Lasko with one of exasperation.

Dear walks into the room looking down at a bunch of papers they were going though.

"Koko, I need your signature for-" They look up for a moment and double back when they see Freelancer, "-something. Oh, Freelancer. Didn't expect to see you here at this hour."

Freelancer misses the death stare they give Lasko for a split second as he nervously readjusts his tie.

They wave hesitantly with a smile that's a little more genuine, "Hi Professor."

Dear sighs, waving them off, "Don't call me that, kid, it makes me feel old."

Lasko interrupts with a tight voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear? I was under the impression that you were busy today."

They huff an all too sweet laugh, "Yeah well, clearly I'm not anymore. I wouldn't be wasting my time in here if I had work to do."

Lasko pokes his tongue at his gum in irritation, "Right.."

They only raise an eyebrow at him before looking back at Freelancer.

"So, Freelancer, what are you doing here so late? Surely you would have better things to do than spend time in here with... him." They snort, "Finished all your studying for the week or has Mr. Moore been keeping you too long? How long have you two been chatting away, hm?"

Freelancer stutters at the amount of questions but they glance over at the clock in the corner of the room, "Uhm.. around three or four hours?"

Dear laughs out of surprise, "Four hours? Goodness, Lasko, do you have no sense of time?" They turn to glare "playfully" at Lasko, smile still stretched across their face.

He sits up a little straighter, "I.. didn't realize it was getting so late. I apologize, Freelancer. Dear, do you really have nothing better to do?"

They giggle, "Than be in here riling you up? Nothing brings me more amusement."

"Must be time to find a hobby then," He says quickly, crossing his arms.

Dear looks him up and down, their smile fading. Right then, Freelancer stands up from their seat.

They grab their bag and sling it over their shoulder, smiling at the two, "I- I think I'm gonna head out now. Thank you.., Lasko, for seeing me. See you in class next week, Professor. Have a good night, you two."

They both look away from each other quickly. Lasko coughs and gives Freelancer a look that they almost interpret as pleading.

But surely the Academy's president wouldn't be pleading with them. Right?

Freelancer shrugs it off and turns around.

Dear bids them goodbye and Lasko sighs almost inaudibly.

"I'll see you next time, Freelancer. Focus on your studies now!"

Dear looks back at Lasko to continue their conversation to see him still looking at Freelancer's turned back. They follow his gaze only to find that he's staring directly at Freelancer's ass.

They clench their jaw and drop their stack of papers on the desk so loudly, that Lasko flinches at the noise.

"Eyes up here, Moore," They roll their eyes as they sit on his desk

Lasko lets the faux kind act drop in front of them and leans back lazily in his chair, "Whatever. What're the papers for?"

"Don't worry about that. I remember distinctly telling you two days ago not to ever have them in here alone with you again, you creep."

Lasko rolls his eyes, "This shit again- Yeah, and I remember distinctly telling you then that I am the president of this academy and I'll do whatever I want. You can't boss me around."

"You can hardly call yourself a president when all you do with that title is use to get into innocent human borns' pants-"

"I do not-!"

"I see the way you look at them, Lasko." They deadpan, "You're not slick in the slightest."

"I look at them like one of my students!" Lasko laughs helplessly, "I would never do that to you or them. You're being paranoid."

"You think I don't hear all the comments you make about their pretty face? Their body? Lasko, I'm not stupid."

Lasko just scoffs, "And when you go around batting your eyes at random security to get stuff from them? Or touching the other teachers so they cover for you while you go get high off your ass?" Dear smirks at him, unfazed, "It's called efficiency. I'm just getting what I want around here. You should try it."

"No thanks, I'd rather not be a whore-"

Lasko hisses when his head is pulled upwards by his chin by none other than his dearest.

They look pissed. He loved it.

"Watch yourself, President. You know you don't actually hold any power over me." They squeeze his face a little.

He huffs, "Would you let go?"

"You're so cute when you're frustrated with me, Koko." They smile falsely.

"I must be pretty damn adorable then- let go-!" He struggles a little as he tries to think about literally anything other than their hand moving to yank at his hair, "Please?"

"Take this as a lesson, hm? Leave the Freelancer alone, Lasko. Or I'll really be upset. You don't want that, do you?" Dear hums.

Lasko looks away from them, blush high on his cheeks, "No, Dear. It won't happen again."

"Look at me when you speak."

He sighs and pouts up at them, "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you?"

Dear smiles, "Promise?"

"Always." Lasko gives a soft hum, eyeing the papers again, "And those?"

"Ah. Don't worry about what it is, just sign the last three pages and I'll be on my way."

He nods and grabs a pen from his pen holder and quickly signs off on all of them. He knows better than to question Dear when they want something from him. They'd still get it in the end so it's no use to fight in the place.

Lasko smiles when they kiss the section of hair they had pulled on before grabbing the papers.

"Thanks, Koko, I appreciate it. I'll come to yours later tonight." Dear waves, turning their back to him with a little wink.

Lasko waves back, an unsettling smirk on his lips, "Bye, see you."

He's practically drooling, looking down at their ass as they leave too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

freak lasko vindemeator and freelancer mention old married couple's quarrel freak lasko whore duo chin grab slutty hair pull dear dear innuendo ass glance freak lasko and post

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted asmr imperium #redacted asmr imp!lasko #redacted asmr imp!freelancer #redacted asmr imp!dear #redacted imp!lasko #redacted imp!dear #redacted imp!freelancer #FINALLYYYYYYYYY #ITS DONE #THIS TOOK SO LONG OMDS I'M SO SORRY 😭😭#this was super fun to write though #i would be in love with imp!dear too #kae's fics

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kariachi · 5 months ago

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Really there was a good space for money to be a point of conflict between Kevin and the Tennysons. Like, we get the show going 'oh that Kevin isn't he greedy' but, I mean really a thing.

Because here's the thing, the Tennysons are middle-class teenagers living at home with parents who take care of them, one of whom ends up with merchandise. If they're hungry, there's probably gonna be food in the fridge at home and they did not need to worry about getting it there. If they decide to splurge, the only things they have to worry about cutting funds from are non-essentials. If their valuable shit is damaged, somebody else has to worry about replacing or fixing it. If they get hurt, somebody else's insurance is covering it. If they decide to step back from the Plumbers and just not work for a while? They don't need to worry about a roof over their heads.

And Kevin is, very much not middle-class living at home with parents taking care of him and merchandising deals on the side. Even discounting WoG it's clear he doesn't live with his mother, probably for reasons relating to the absolute mess that was a childhood that left him homeless longterm. He's paying his own bills, he's buying his own groceries, whenever his car gets wrecked that's on him. And I doubt the Plumbers medical funds cover freelancers, so we can reasonably assume any damage he takes prior to Basic Training? The medical bills are on him too. If he decides he needs a break? He's still got expenses he needs to cover, he has to worry about making sure he's got an nest egg enough to keep him for however long first. And this isn't something new to him, he's first introduced as homeless at 11-years-old, and aside from his time in prison and with the Rooters? There's no indication anyone else was funding his ass. He's been having to worry about this shit since before he even met the Tennysons, and the position he's in as of UAF is likely only recently as good as it is given his age and the work and time it would take to reach any level of true success in the black market.

Just, it would have made for a good episode in 'we're more mature now' UA, to hit on the difference between how they look at money, how they spend their money, and why.

#kevin levin #ben 10 #kinda just want something where the tennysons get judgy about his excitement over a payout #and he finally just turns around and gives them a breakdown of his expenses #down to the gallon of water he had to buy last week because there was desert heroing to do #every penny noted #and the cousins both end up going home and hugging their parents

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clairelsonao3 · 5 months ago

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ETA: Thank you so much to the person (people) who already bought me a Ko-Fi. You are true gems. 💕

So, my bank account is down to $0. I just got unceremoniously dumped from the freelance job I was hoping would get me through the month. I'm at rock bottom, behind on my credit card payments, and really sad and scared that my life has come to this.

I also have an MFA and have been a professional writer, editor, content marketer, journalist, and ghostwriter for nearly 15 years, and I am actually very good at what I do, not that you would know it.

My clients tell me things are slow this summer, as if my rent and bills somehow also take a vacation.

The worst thing of all is that the prospect of soon self-publishing my book is the only thing that's keeping me going right now, and I'm starting to get scared that I won't be able to afford to do it when the time comes. I can do it cheaply, but not for free, at least to any quality.

So: I can beta read. I can edit and proofread your stuff. I can ghostwrite nonfiction and fiction. I've never done writing commissions before, but why not? All for low/negotiable rates, say .003/word for editing/beta and .08/word for writing.

I also have a Ko-Fi.

So yes. This is a request for work, tip money, kind words, and reassurance that I don't, in fact, suck.

Also, please reblog if you can. I would really appreciate that.

And it's a thank you. I would never normally do this, but I've gotten a lot of support from this community, so I've decided to take a deep breath and put myself out there in a way I can't with my IRL friends.

And to anyone else struggling: I'm thinking of you and here for you. You don't suck, and this is temporary. 💕

#metapost #not writing

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furiousgoldfish · 5 months ago

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How do you continue to function when you're so burnout for decades long it paralyzed you from working properly? Ngl my life is a whole mess after 10 years trying to survive from my abuser. and I still don't know how to get back on my feet again without having a mental breakdown several times a week and feeling suicidal on top of it

and I'm too ashamed to talk about it to people, i did talk, they were understanding at first, but that doesn't stay long. You can only cry and whine once, after that, you're burdening them with your loads.

They'd say you continue fighting no matter what still and I do, fight still everyday in my life even if it's getting up from bed. But what I can't do is going to work, I just can't, it doesn’t help that i experience abuse too from the place i work at, had to quit abruptly at one occasion after the boss got physical with me

In this survival state, I mostly earned money from freelance job (and obviously it's not enough)

Everyone I'm close to is very frustrated with me because I didn't seem to be healed even though it's been this long. What I learned from it is that not to bring up my pain ever again and have to pretend I'm doing fine because that's what my family and friends can tolerate. That kind of isolation kills me, as if they didn't consider that i want to be healed too. no one else wants to survive my trauma more than me. I just don't know how and I can't see how it's possible.

Yeah I relate to this! It is very scary to be expected to be able to work and live independently while you're barely holding it together, unable to get up from bed.

I can only share my experience of this, and maybe it's not that helpful, but I want you to know that it can get better, and that people are wrong for expecting you to suddenly be okay after the experience of torturous abuse.

When I escaped, I had enough money from freelancing saved up so I could just rest for a few years (it was stressful, being scared the money would run out), but I was able to indulge fully in resting and not getting up when I didn't want to. I spent years just laying in bed and trying to work trough the trauma and get the feelings of pain and terror out, and it worked to some extent, I started feeling a little less tired after three years!

I started working very infrequently, odd little jobs, helping neighbours for a bit of money, helping the disabled people or cleaning when I could, and it would just be a few hours of work, and I'd be completely drained after that. But again, giving myself plenty of space and time to rest helped me a lot, and then later working on my osdd also helped me restore some of the energy.

I can work only 2-3 days a week now, for a few hours, and it's enough to survive in poverty, if I don't buy anything, so this is what I do. I'm lucky that I'm able to share my bills and rent with roommates and make my own food, and that I'm so used to poverty it doesn't specifically bother me. I still get sad sometimes that I can't have an actual real job and live more safely, but I'm alive, I'm not tormented, and I spend a lot of time resting, and just tell people 'I'm sick' if they ask questions.

I think freelancing, doing a few hours of work infrequently or just slowly letting yourself recover until you can do something for a bit worked great for me, but I also understand it's not something that will work for anyone. If you're stuck not being able to save up, or work enough that you could pay even a part of your rent, that feels debilitating and scary, it doesn't let you plan for the future, it doesn't feel like you can even complain to people as they're unwilling to listen. I am so sorry for what you're going trough, it's legitimately a bad situation, and it's only natural for you to struggle like this after so much abuse. I believe you need to have as much rest as you need and if one day you get a little better, you might be able to figure it out, and if not, I hope at least people take you more seriously and understand that this is real pain, real fear of losing a future over abuse.

#chronic fatigue #aftermath of abuse #trying to survive after abuse

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sarahmackattack · 7 months ago

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Hi Sarah!

I have a cephalopod question: do ceph’s ever lose their suckers, and if so are they able to grow new ones?

And a SciComm question: do you have any advice for someone who wants to grow their career in SciComm? It’s my dream career but it seems like opportunities are few and far between.

Is it “better” to pursue a degree in a specific science, or to focus more on the education/teaching side of things?

(although a huge shoutout to you and the other SciComm folks sharing your passions! I did manage to get a part-time internship and job at my local zoo in their education department, and I only had the courage to pursue those opportunities thanks to people like you! Didn’t think I’d get this far, and now I can’t wait to take it even farther; I’ve just got to figure out how to get there first!)

Do ceph’s ever lose their suckers, and if so are they able to grow new ones? I'm sure they do! The regeneration of some species has been studied but not all of them so there's likely some species that are a little better at it than others (for example, it's probably something a predator that attacks very strong fast animals needs than an animal that primarily eats bivalves).

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to grow their career in SciComm? The trouble with this is that my job is very very weird, and doesn't exist in the kind of structure where you apply for a job →you get the job → you have a stable job. It's more similar to the safety and job structure of being an artist, but with a nonprofit thrown into the mix. It's... complicated! And not necessarily stable! All that to say, how I got here is not going to work for everyone and I honestly sometimes cant believe it worked/works for me at all. It might stop working any second.

But whatever here's what I did. I practiced science communication on social media and locally in Connecticut (where I was at the time). I tried to consume a lot of science communication and consider what was working in those pieces, and thought about what I enjoyed doing within that whole huge ecosystem. There's one zillion ways to do science communication, and different approaches will hit different audiences. It's totally critical for a lot of different people to be doing science communication in a way that feels genuine to them, in their own voices, with whatever methods they like doing the most so that as a collective, we hit the broadest patch of people. No one science communication technique is perfect for every "audience" member, so the diversity of approaches is so so important. I don't think that gets said enough. So explore! See what you like, see what you get joy out of doing, see how people react to it. Producing science communication as you're practicing will build out a portfolio of work that you can point to when you graduate.

There are a lot of kinds of science communication jobs. There's the freelance/DIY approach like having a podcast like Alie Ward, or founding a nonprofit (this is very hard and i don't recommend doing this lol), or having a successful youtube channel/social media situation like Hank Green or doing TV like Emily Calandrelli/Bill Nye/Phil Torres. Then there's working for an existing science education nonprofit like Biobus or Science Friday or working for institutions like museums/zoos/aquaria, etc. Theres also a whole field in the university system called "extension" where you're taking the work happening at the university and connecting the surrounding population with that work. Each of those jobs, particularly the older institution-based ones have their own structures and will come with different advice on how to get into those jobs. I'm not really sure about those. Having that science communication portfolio will likely help for all of them though!

As far as what to do for school... I think the true but kinda complicated answer is that often what we do for school isn't directly related to what we end up doing. The skills we build while we're in school, and the connections we make are really what determines where we end up and what we end up doing. So... really take seriously the stuff you're doing that nobody's telling you to do. That's as important as class... and honestly, in my personal experience, it's way more important than what you do in class.

#science communication #squid #cephalopods #career #career advice #your mileage may vary

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dyrewrites · 15 days ago

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Got into an argument with myself today. Always a fun thing to do. Not going to share what I said to myself...like I sometimes do, as it was unkind.

But I came to the conclusion that having a lot of places where one can read my writing is a little overwhelming. As is thinking of a future at it, writing I mean. A career at it.

Success is subjective and I'm not looking for fame, I think that would kill me actually. What I'm aiming for, wishing for, is to make enough to pay some bills and not feel guilty when I buy something just for myself. It doesn't sound like much, but that would be success to me.

I'm a little over a year into trying, which isn't long enough by any stretch and all of this ruminating is melodramatic. Yet I'm doing it anyway. Where I'm wondering if 'housewife', 'freelance artist' and 'independent author' are viable reasons to list for why I have an almost ten year gap in my work history. A gap because all the jobs I found and quit due to anxiety were ones I wasn't at long enough to really make it into their system. Never even made it out of the probationary periods.

But I know they aren't viable reasons. I've been told so.

Even though I pay taxes, when I've made enough that I'm required to, my freelance and independent work doesn't seem to count for an employer. It is also incredibly unwise to tell one I am bipolar. Worse when I explain that if this country would just understand that someone who has emergency savings in their bank account still requires assistance to pay their bills...I'd be on disability instead of vibrating in front of them like a broken carnival ride.

I don't really know what to do with these thoughts right now. As I said, they've grown melodramatic.

I like having a website, if I'm unsure on the how I'm using it part, and substack is interesting enough to keep around. I'm never leaving this place, pretty sure I've grown roots here.

So this isn't a goodbye or anything.

More of a puff of confused breath I'm caught me in. I'm staring up at the sky wondering what the point is with no desire to stop.

#writing rambles #genuinely rambles #i don't think this went anywhere but hey it's out #that's what matters

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iamanartichoke · 6 months ago

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Hey all, I'm posting this as the last of last resorts; I came up against a few financial emergencies in the last few months (I got laid off from my job, had a gap in pay while I transitioned into a new job, my car broke down, and my cat got sick and needed emergency vet care). These emergencies in addition to the, frankly, insane rate of inflation put me in a position where I was behind on my rent and, despite all efforts to prevent it, my landlord has now filed for eviction.

I am soclose to being able to pay the back rent; unfortunately, I have to wait for another paycheck, which is past the deadline of the date I have to respond in order to prevent a 24-hour vacate notice. I am not able to get a loan or borrow from friends/family. If I am evicted, I don't have another place to go and having the eviction on my record would make it even harder to find a new place, especially in such a short time frame.

I have been in this apartment for five years. I am catching up on my bills/finances, and I have gotten a second job, plus I have begun setting up other sources of income (Etsy, freelance writing, etc). My lease is up in October, at which point I'm prepared to move, but I am trying to stay here until then.

If anyone can donate anything at all, I would greatly appreciate it. If you can't donate anything, a reblog would also suffice, and I greatly appreciate that, too. I am also willing to (temporarily, insofar as for the sole purpose of trying not to be homeless) commission, uh, fictional writing for a thing that rhymes with standom, iykyk. Links are below, and I thank you in advance for any and all interaction with this post, whether it is donation, signal boosting, or otherwise.

Cashapp: $annieartichoke Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/artichokie883 Venmo: artichokie883

#signal boost #help please #donations #donate if you can #reiterating that i am only posting this after exhausting all other options #i apologize

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moriamori · 5 months ago

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Even now I feel the ghosts of muscles and nerves wishing to induce pain, as my upper torso works on healing missing skin from ripped kinetic sports tape used in recovery.

The words "Do what you love while you still have the bodily means to do it" rattles through my bones, I'm not that old by human standards but the sense of a countdown remains regardless. Comics are a deep love of mine. They're also the medium to tell a story very, very slowly.

With an average life span of 80 years, knock off my current 30, that's 50 years left. A completed series could take about ten years, many have taken longer. The manic could commit maybe five stories. Realistically, most manage half or a quarter of one. Maybe complete one. Maybe two. And my arms hurt, my spine pinches. My fingers tingle.

With my current funds, I choose between one physio session for the month, or hope to save up enough for an ergonomics assessment of my awful workdesk-setup in a slanted apartment, with a chair too big and items eternally too wide, too heavy for me. "This time," I say, "This time, this will help me get closer to drawing again".

I had wanted to be a freelance illustrator, when I realized my day job would never financially reflect the amount of work I do or don't put in. I wouldn't be able to increase my funds if I took on more work. My job will only realize they can expect more work out of me for the same pay. Getting hired elsewhere, while a possibility, would likely involve obtaining a new job that is twice as stressful and pays a tiny bit more. I don't even want this career.

I used to do commissions. I used to draw like I breathed. The irony of working in an art school is that the continuous exposure to technique and "how to get better", mainly makes you able to see your own mistakes and your own shortcomings over and over again. It's always about improvement. Find the faults, do better. Do better. Do better.

Don't sing this way, sing that way.

I feel like I've lost my voice. I feel like my voice hasn't much to say, actually. I know people loved it, once. People even demand my return.

"I want to see the next pages." "Where's that comic you said you'd do?" "Made any art recently?"

Positive attention doesn't pay bills, doesn't give me lunch, doesn't offer insurance for my physio therapy bills. It almost did. But I would have to keep performing. Keep producing through the burn. And I want to. I do. That's the awful thing in the end. I also want these pages done.

I want to love to create again. I remember I loved. I loved fearlessly. Made fearlessly. I embraced bad art. Minimalist art. Shitty art.

"I know you can make better than this." "You didn't put effort in this one."

Please put effort in me.

I am sorry the previous conditions I worked in were not enough, and the past support was not enough. I did have patreon. I did have some support. I had people willing to pay me for my time and effort and they even had patience. It was almost enough. Almost.

A flower still wilts if only given a slice of the sun it needs. It can try to grow in those conditions but it isn't going to be good.

"It used to be enough before!"

Maybe I grew. Maybe my appetite and my needs got bigger. Kids' meals don't fill me anymore. What right do I have to ask for more, when I have nothing to show for it? When what I make, may end up being terrible regardless?

"Remember you will love," I tell myself once more. Maybe I'll love regardless, in the end. Pages or no pages.

I do love terrible comics, in the end.

#makeaterriblecomicday2024 #This became a much bigger vent art and text ramble than intended #But there's something nice about yelling into the void of tumblr #Hello strangers #I am haunted by the ever-expanding scale of the thing I wish to make #over and over again #And knowing “I could make it that good if I really tried”#And knowing equally how finite my energy and means actually are #There is a sadness in knowing I could restart and make it better later #Make it better make it better make it better it could always be made better #Maybe I should simply stop and yell #“I make it now and I make it real as a journal of today's present day and time”#Art as a signature of a temporal and situational context that can never be made again #“I was here like this too”

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