#i have so many it actually makes me sick.

[elspethdixon]

When I was six, there was a bulletin board on the wall of my first grade classroom that had fancy construction-paper name tags posted on it for every student who’d had perfect attendance the previous month.

I had pneumonia and scarlet fever (not regular strep throat, actual scarlet fever like a Victorian child) that year and missed over a month of school, plus continual sick days over the rest of the year. The whole school year I never got to have my name up on the perfect attendance board once.

Over thirty years later, I still remember how much I resented that. It’s not like I wanted to spend hours sitting in the doctor’s office instead of going to school. They literally wouldn’t let me go during the scarlet fever week-long absence because they (correctly) didn’t want me spreading strep to the other children. The school officials ordered my parents to keep me at home, and then I was shamed for it via exclusion from the “official good student who’s here every day” board.

Later, in high school, I took exactly one sick day over the entire four years, when I broke a bone in my foot. This isn’t because I didn’t get sick, it’s because I was taking almost all AP classes and the amount of make-up work you had if you missed even a single day was prohibitive. I was already doing at least two hours of homework every night. In tenth grade in particular I went to school while hacking and coughing all day with asthmatic bronchitis all winter long. (I also needed abdominal surgery to repair a hernia caused by the weight of my school books/bookbag during my freshman year and waited four months to get it performed over the summer in order to not miss school - this sounds like I’m making it up or exaggerating but the surgeon actually said both that 1. it was most likely caused by the weight of my 25 lb. backpack and 2. that in retrospect telling my parents to wait until summer break for the surgery had been a mistake because the delay had made the hernia worse).

And I wasn’t even disabled or actually suffering from a chronic illness. I was a completely able-bodied kid who just had shitty lungs (that was actually the root cause of the hernia - I had already had a previous hernia surgery in the same spot during that infamous no-perfect-attendance-badge-for-you first grade year, after my pneumonia experience gave me a hernia from coughing so much). If anything, the actually disabled kids in my high school were being put in danger by me and my two zillion different chest colds I brought to school to give to everyone around me. Who knows how many classmates I probably infected with rhinoviruses in order to keep my straight A grades.

When I say “school should be disability accessible”, I don’t just mean we need handicap rails and EAs. Kids should be able to miss a day without failing out of school. You shouldn’t be dismissed from clubs because your attendance record is “spotty” (true story). I once missed an entire week of school because of a terrible, unending migraine. I was expected to keep up with my studies despite the blinding pain that came with working on my computer. When I heard my teachers say that you couldn’t miss exams, I asked what I would have to do to be excused from them. Their response? “Either get a doctor’s note an hour before the exam or death of an immediate family member.”

I cannot express how rigid this expectation was. First of all, with my condition, I wouldn’t have enough warning about my sickness to go to the doctor and request a note. For many people, this is exceptionally difficult, especially with the current shortage of medical professionals. Next, it ignores the fact that my schedule may not line with theirs because of my medical needs. Once, I had to visit a hospital a province away (which I was on the waiting list of for over a year) on the same day as an exam. I begged my mother not to take me because I was so nervous that I would be marked as an automatic fail. I was lucky enough to make it work, but that’s only because of my spectacular support system consisting of family members and wonderful doctors.

Disabilities aren’t always about needing a bus that can accommodate wheelchairs. It’s already difficult enough for many of us to maintain school attendance without the harsh punishments involved for skipping a day. We need to be able to miss school without being punished. Only than can you claim that the school is “accessible”

[bluephoenixprincess]

Idea: Demon Courting Tournaments

So seeing so many Epic the musical Ithaca Saga AUs for Lego Monkie kid got me turning some thoughts in my head like fidget toys.

At this point i think most of the LMK fandom is familiar with courtnapping as a trope in some way and the afformentioned Ithaca sage aus, especially allthe ones based on The Challenge song, have given me thoughts.

So... what if.

COURTING TOURNAMENTS.

When especially powerful or desirable demons are being pursued by too many Suitors and theyre sick of having to deal with each one individually, a more organized solution is called for.

Ideally with the help of friends and family the sought after demon will call all their suitors together and set forth a series of challenges to win their hand.

Common challenges include things that show off a suitors strength and ability to provide, ya know fighting, races, hunting contests. But also more unexpected things like say, cooking competitions or Art and poetry or a judging of gifts, to determine which suitors actually know the interests or desires of the person theyre courting.

The challenges narrow down the pool of suitors until the final decision is made.

Buuuuuut

If the sought after demon doesnt wish to mate and marry, they can appoint a trusted friend or family member as their "Champion" in the tournament.

The Champion's job is to act according to the pursued demons' best interests, knocking out undesirable suitors, acting as the eyes and ears for them to see if any of the suitors might actually be compatible. Amd if it comes to it, winning the tournament themselves to assert the pursued demons right to remain single.

So where am i going with all this?

Well one i wanna write a Spicynoodles fic with this sort of premise but, while i was planning that i had MORE THOUGHTS.

Specifically thoughts about Wukong.

Sun Wukong returning home from his legendary journey now a god, a hero and, to his dismay ...

Single.

With Macaque's absence and presumed demise, Wukong finds himself with dubious honor of being perhaps the most eligible single demon in all of Asia, much to his chagrin.

Not only does he have no desire to find a new mate (he has... had a mate, his only mate, his dear lost Moonlight) The increasingly frequent attempted courtnappings are interfering with his efforts of rebuilding Flower Fruit Mountain (His Kingdom, His people all he has left except his pilgrim brothers).

Its pissing him off to say the least. And perhaps one or two especially powerful suitors wind up causing Wukong to make enough of a commotion that Heaven urges Wukong to find a more Orderly Solution.

A Courting Tournament.

Wukong is Annoyed but if this spectacle results in him finally getting some peace and quiet hell do it.

The Pilgrims are at his side through the whole fiasco.

And it works... for a time.

See the Handsome Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Victorious Fighting Buddha, is just to tempting of a potential mate for all these demons to take the hint.

So in his long Life Wukong has to Suffer through multiple courting tournaments being held in his dubious honor so that all these randy demons will get the hell off his mountain.

At least 3 happen. One of Wukongs Pilgrim brothers acting as his Champion each time, all of them fighting increasingly fiercely to protect their Little Big Brother from the careless affections of his many suitors.

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

[pubbamoon]

Annual Profections

Hello! I finally got a time to make a post here in Tumblr! I just want to say that this February was really though for me. There were many exams this month. But luckily, I passed the math exams yesterday, which is such an achievement to me. Nevermind, let's just finally get into the topic. Today I'd like to say something about annual profections and what each profection year mean. This system is very much used in Hellenistic astrology and it helps to predict significant events in someone's life.

The profection year is a system or a tool which is used to predict the events of your life based on how old are you, or we can say, based on each year. Every house has its own profection year and you can experience the events based on your age every 12 years. When we interpret someone's profection year, it important to look at the age of a person, which house relates to the person's certain age and the ruler of that house. I will interpret each profection year by each house now.

1st house

If you're 12, 24, 36, 48 or 60 years old, then you have the 1st house profection year. This year might be about you or your body. You may probably care more about your body and physical health this year. If your 1st house ruler is well-placed (in its own sign or exalted), then you might get noticed by a lot of people this year and the 1st house stuff might manifest this year in the way it should. However, if your 1st house ruler is badly placed (in detriment or in fall), then it might be harder for you to maintain the 1st house stuff.

2nd house

If you're 13, 25, 37, 49 or 61 years old, then you have the 2nd house profection year. This year might be about making money or maintaining the resources for you. The 2nd house is all about livelihood, the things that are crucial for us to survive, such as food, money and even family. You might care about these things this year. Check out your 2nd house placements for more clarity.

3rd house

If you're 14, 26, 38, 50 or 62 years old, then you're in the 3rd house profection year. The 3rd house is related to siblings, learning and travel. It can also represents your best friend that you see him/her as your brother or sister. This year might be something about your siblings if you actually have any of them, probably about maintaining the relationships with them. You may start to learn something new this year. Again, look how your 3rd house ruler is placed.

4th house

If you're 15, 27, 39, 51 or 63 years old, then you're into the 4th house profection year. This year you might focus more about your home and making some form of a connection with your family, but it really depends on how your 4th house ruler is placed and if you have any planet in the 4th house. You may also became more private during this year.

5th house

If you're 16, 28, 40, 52 or 64 years old, then you're in the 5th house profection year. The 5th house represents good fortune, children, wealth, good health and other things that makes our life easier. So, based on how your 5th house ruler is placed and on which planets sit in the 5th house in your chart, this profection year may show in which things you might benefit from and if you're actually going to benefit from anything.

6th house

If you're 17, 29, 41, 53 or 65 years old, then you're into the 6th house profection year. The 6th house represents bad fortune, bad health, injuries, sickness, slavery and other bad things which makes our life harder. In this year, you might feel that you while you work so hard, you cannot succeed and you're not progressing, because the 6th house relates hard-working and sacrifice that leads to nowhere. Changing the strategy might be helpful this year to you.

7th house

If you're 6, 18, 30, 42, 54 or 66 years old, then you have the 7th house profection year. This year might be all about relationships, situationships and partnerships for you. Other people around might be playing the crucial role to you this year. Check out the dignity of your natal 7th house ruler to see if the people will accept you or discriminate you.

8th house

If you're 7, 19, 31, 43, 55 or 67 years old, then you have the 8th house profection year. The 8th house represents death, inheritance, but also madness and other people's money. This might be very challenging year for you, it seems. Other people around you might help you financially or you might get into debt this year. You can also inherit someone's property this year if your 8th house placements are supporting that event.

9th house

If you're 8, 20, 32, 44, 56 or 68 years old, then you're in the 9th house profection year. The 9th house represents voyages, wisdom, education and religion. You might search for the universal truth or get into the spirituality this year. You might also start or graduate from school or college. You may travel a lot as well, if you're going to have the access to do so.

10th house

If you're 9, 21, 33, 45, 57 or 69 years old, then you have the 10th house profection year. You might be seen by a lot of people this year for some kind of reason. Something about career might be significant. You might focus on your career path and reputation this year. Consider the dignity of your 10th house ruler to see if you're actually going to succeed in career or not.

11th house

If you're 10, 22, 34, 46, 58 or 70 years old, then you have the 11th house profection year. This year might be all about socializing, making friends and finding the right people who will support your goals, since the 11th house is related to friends, community, success and victory. It represents good spirit and everything which makes our mind better. So, this could possibly be the successful and joyful year for you.

12th house

If you're 11, 23, 35, 47, 59 or 71 years old, then you're into the 12th house profection year. The 12th house represents bad spirit and everything that afflicts our mind. So, it relates to depression, mental health issues, isolation, marginalized people etc. You might feel alone or isolated during this year. It might seem to you that people around tend to discriminate or marginalize you at some point. This year could be about losing friends or some kind of community.

This could be everything for this topic. I hope you guys enjoyed it. I missed making astrology posts here on Tumblr and I'm really glad to come back after a month of hiatus. Comment what you think about this topic. See you soon, I guess.

Best regards, Paky McGee

[curiousorigins]

Yeah, I had this whole period of a few years where I was working a near full time retail job, going to college (over full time via credit hours) and commuting around an hour-2 hours each way depending on when in that period and if I happened to get my favorite bus driver. (he shaved a full 20-40 minutes off of my 2 transfers commute.) Pretty much I had time for nothing especially when you factored in that I get motion sick, so I couldn't manage to do homework on the bus (I could at best manage audio language tapes... as that talk to text stuff was bad then and I have audio processing issues) and I wasn't sleeping well. (I've fallen asleep in a moving vehicle twice in my life for longer than 2 minutes. Once after a full 2 weeks of not sleeping for about 5 minutes (according to friend who was driving) and another on the bus during this period. And yes I was awoken because the bus returned to the bus service garage.) and had to actively play rock music (complete with an audio effects CD on shuffle which was the surprising boon to my playlists. I will never create a Mix CD/Playlist without random animal noises and sirens again.) in order to prevent myself from falling asleep in public and leaving my body to the whims of strangers around me.

So funny thing about this period of my life... whether due to the lack of calories. (no required meal plan as part of tuition as I was commuting to school and thus college not obligated to prevent student starvation. However it was a community college and thus real awesome at providing free food opportunities to those willing to follow their nose/rumors of free food with enough free time between classes to indulge.) lack of sleep, financial stress (I mostly save a few minor grants self-funded my schooling... ending with less than $1,500 debt my final semester despite going to college in the U.S. [highly recommend community colleges. However don't do this. I almost died so many times. I got an ulcer that led to 2 weeks of internal bleeding and missed 2 weeks of work and like 10 years+ fearing many foods. Getting a loan in this case would have been smarter. Yes even with how student loans are.] my grades also couldn't keep up and I lost any academic related funding as well. Including eventually the student loans. I pretty much had a major mental health crisis on top of very horrible health crisises... that for a period at up approximately 6 hours of my none-free-time but actual doing homework/studying/relaxing [If I ever had a chance] time. Don't do it.

Anyways I learned to eat one handed. We were raised in a set the table and use utensils with the proper hand etc household... so yeah for me this was a college-age learned skill. I learned to scarf down (already had to a degree. God bless ovrcrowded public schools where) ANYTHING in less than 10 minutes provided I was hungry enough. To eat (sort of neatly) when walking. To chug 44oz of water etc in about 5 minutes. (My job consisted of unloading trucks in lack of climate control in near one of the hottest places on earth for 3 months of the year. Funny thing, also near the coldest for near the same period of time annually. And I was always at risk of passing out from dehydration. I literally hardly peed during this period because I was sweating enough to keep up with the minimal gallon of water/sport's drink etc I was drinking per day.)

I also had started getting into art and social media. (I actually briefly was making minor waves.) and the only time I had to draw consisted of my breaks and meal breaks at work (because again I got motion sick in moving vehicles). I was drawing, inking, and painting in watercolor 25 days a month, completing an average of 25-40 paintings during that month. Work was the main area where I had wiggle room to socialize, so I was often, drawing/painting in the breakroom while stuffing my face with as many calories as possible (I was unloading trucks and at the height of my families' weirdly high metabolism) while talking. So I was penciling/drawing/finalizing an average of 10-15 minutes (while eating), inking in 5-10 minutes and painting in 15-25 minutes/day. (While eating). Oh and because there literally wasn't a schedule where I could possibly eat a meal at home 5-6 days/week; I also developed absolute zero shame to munching whereever I was, no matter what was going on (though little kid me was ahead of the curve because PBS used to broadcast surgeries on Sundays and I was fascinated. And would have my lunch/dinner watching them and only once they were wiggling around intestines while I was eating spaghetti and had a bad brain sensory visual textural experience. Otherwise I was good to go.) [as an aside, this includes that poor person who was 'pregnant' for a few decades, via the rare ectopic pregnancy that doesn't cause a patient to go septic, who's surgery ended up being broadcast on PBS for some reason... I would assume exploitation to pay for the surgery itself. That's called

(Trigger warning for link above: Many examples of very late term incomplete pregnancies that are identifiably human fetuses that are not compatible with life. Stopped living often decades before they might have been born had the embroyos implanted elsewhere. Frozen in gestation. Images within that could be disturbing to those mourning a miscarriage, actively pregnant, suffering infertility issues etc. Please do use your best judgement and do not click the link above if you're not in a place where one could take their time, energy etc to emotionally deal with such a disturbance.)

But yeah I can eat in pretty any condition. Not super cleanly... mostly because I don't care. My Dad hates going out to eat with me and has to remind me that I won't have successful dates (while I'm not interested in dating anyone) because of how I eat. While I say, "Might as well eat like a pig on the first date, not that there will be dates. Because this how I eat. If they can't stomach it. Then I'm saving us both some hassle." And quickly too. I can't manage to hold my breath while swimming/diving or do that weird pushing breath out to prevent water in your nose thing. But I can breath while I'm actively drinking and eating. I can also eat while talking while not telegraphing that I have food in my mouth via sound or sight.

Those are just some of the few unintended skills I ended up developing, perfecting out of genuine necessity and survival. And no, I don't ever want to live like that again. I respect myself too much to out myself through it. Of course when I decided I'd take commissions at conventions while selling my art, these are skills that I started to purposefully develop.

Jobs don’t always limit the skills you learn to the job itself. For instance, when I worked at Red Robin, they’d offer 30 minutes for an unpaid lunch, or 15 if you wanted to get paid the whole time. If you think that’s extremely shitty join the club.

As a result of wanting money I got really good at eating quickly so I could use my break to read or relax. I’ve always been a fast eater but when I worked there I learned how to eat an entire burger and fries in under five minute while keeping up a conversation. This is not advisable for good digestion, eat slow and chew your food.

There’s a balance to not talking with your mouth full and eating extremely quickly and it was a regularly used skill for years. When I worked at a sex shop I bragged about it once to a coworker.

She watched me with a timer going after I told her about it and we got burgers. I chatted with her the whole time. I was done in four minutes forty seconds.

Afterward she looked haunted and commented, “It was like watching a snake unhinge it’s jaw but you never talked with food in your mouth!”

More recently my beloved and I were catching up with a friend over lunch. I had a sandwich while they’d gotten falafel plates. We were having a lovely chat but after I finished a story our friend said, “I don’t want your food to go cold while you talk!”

I was surprised. I’d been deliberately talking more so she could eat. I turned to show her my empty sandwich box. Both she and my beloved were stunned. It was like I’d performed a magic trick and made my sandwich disappear because neither had even noticed me demolishing it like a snake unhinging it’s jaw.

[kirby-the-gorb]

a couple people coincidentally reblogged my rare disease day post from [last year] so. here's how that's been going. (some of this is repeat info if you click the link)

I have mast cell activation syndrome (or MCAS), an immune disorder in which my signaling cells are way too jumpy and can trigger all kinds of symptoms (up to and including anaphylaxis) in response to seemingly harmless stimuli. this is distinct from allergies as whether or not I react to a trigger can change from day to day based on how many other triggers are present, and the chemical mediators released cover a broader spectrum than just the IgE release in a classical allergic reaction. plus oftentimes symptoms are a mix of episodic and chronic, rather than being acute episodes like allergies.

triggers can be commonly understood things like certain food ingredients or scent chemicals, but can also include things like hormone fluctuations, physical or mental exertion, and the sun. I have reacted to ginger, laundry detergent, and a natural gas furnace, for example. I also do a lot worse in summer because it is both sunny and warm, and I always have to be very careful how much energy I use up or I might trigger anaphylaxis.

it's common for people with MCAS to have some level of symptoms all their life, that go unnoticed or dismissed until some precipitating event causes a substantial downturn in their condition. for me it was mono, but other infections (especially covid) and significant stressful events have also been anecdotally reported to precipitate downturns if I recall correctly, or simply being uncontrolled enough for long enough can also snowball.

diagnostic criteria for MCAS were first proposed in 2010, so the true rarity is still very up in the air. (personally I believe a lot of common wastebin diagnoses (ibd, fibro, cfs/me, etc) should be scrutinized very carefully as potential "specialty silos" of MCAS, especially given how often they tend to travel together.)

firstline treatments for MCAS include cheap medications available over the counter like loratadine, aspirin, and famotidine. my condition has become severe enough that I'm currently on third-line treatment (omalizumab injections), which does finally seem to be getting me somewhere. (this is, of course, in addition to still taking all of the first- and second-line treatments. I take 24 units of 13 medications in a given day, it's a lot to keep track of. to the point where I'm not actually sure I've counted it correctly :v then there's my monthly injections and my emergency medications on top of that.)

(those injections btw? can cost thousands of dollars even with insurance. thankfully I'm able to use the company's assistance program, so I don't pay anything out of pocket. for that one.)

being sick is never fun, but if you have a disease perceived as rare it introduces a ton of new complications. (which get even more complicated when the disease is legit super rare!) it took me a long time to figure out what was wrong with me, and I had to do it almost entirely by myself, because doctors simply don't have the knowledge. they're not taught to look for it and there's no simple reliable test. but by yammering about it, it might make someone else's slog a tiny bit shorter <3

[4zahara]

02 | Let's Stay Home

←Previous. Masterlist. Next→

Word Count: +4k

A/N: English is not my first language. Please be patient with the grammar. I really tried to finish this chapter earlier. I had it written halfway but things happened and it arrived a week early! I think... my sense of time has left me and this ship.

His sister was weird.

Jason had no idea what, exactly, to pinpoint—other than her general demeanor made him reach the conclusion. It wasn’t just your eyes, which always seemed to search for a face on his head, or hair which looked like it had survived electrocution. Maybe it was your personality.

Whatever had been bothering him seemed to settle the longer he sat on the floor, however, processing his new situation.

He wasn't comfortable. He shifted onto the couch when (Name) returned with towels—actually clean ones. Jason placed a folded one on the cushions under him and sat down again, another draped over his shoulders to warm him up—you looked genuinely worried about him getting sick and needing a hospital visit neither of you could afford—the third was involuntarily forced over his head for good measure. He might as well cross "Halloween costume" off his to-do list. He'd be Casper the Friendly Ghost this year.

Although, he wiped the metallic taste of either blood or hunger with the back of his sleeve to speak again, a yawn won its way out. Swallowing saliva could only do so much for him the longer the night got.

"I have—" a voice called from the kitchen, about five feet from where he sat. "Pizza? There are some leftovers too, but I doubt you'll want that."

Jason's drifting attention focus for once and he perked up immediately.

"You have pizza?" he asked—not exactly excited.

Unlike most kids, Jason didn’t get excited at the mere thought of bread with things on top. Even if beloved for many the dish had long since lost its appeal to him. When had a large pizza not been cheaper than a bag of vegetables around here? Too much of anything was unhealthy—not that he really thought about that. He had eaten enough in a single week to make him want to avoid cheese altogether. Eating healthy was expensive. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

"What are the leftovers?" he asked, forcing a strained smile through gritted teeth.

"I'll heat it up for you. It's just rice, chicken, corn—basically a salad."

Jason quickly stood on shaky legs, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of you. Obviously there was lack of trust. Maybe—and just maybe—you reminded him too much of Catherine too.

Weirdly enough, the thought eased his sore chest. Something about seeing you, Jason didn’t want to think too hard about.

He missed his mom.

You looked like her.

Without another word from you, he trailed into the kitchen, dismissing the ache spreading everywhere.

"So... you came because of Mom? What happened?" You hesitated. "Did she and Dad got into another fight? Is that why he's arrested?"

A complicated look crossed his eyes just as he forced the noncommittal response.

"No, it wasn't like that. Willis went away for something else... Mom is—she's not taking it well and... needs you," he leaned against the counter, facing away but still watching you.

Ever since hearing you describe Catherine as unfit to be left alone—even if she not alone with Willis anymore but by herself—Jason’s worry skyrocketed. He kept telling himself she’d be fine without him for one night...

Now keeping his jaw clenched at the thought.

Willis could shove a rusty pipe up his ass.

As the stove flickered to life, heating up the so-called "salad", it was safe to say, a microwave-sized box was too big to hide and too heavy to run with, when you had none.

His sister glanced at him briefly then back to the stove—an action you repeated often. It was obvious you had questions enough for Jason to notice.

Even admitting it would be wishful thinking; to assume it was for his sake you were keeping all of them in.

His gaze flickered around the room to nothing in particular, as if wasn't even made aware of how restless his mind had become—grasping for anything to distract him.

Old bruises and burns on his skin layered with the fresh ones from getting mugged, started to ache. Random memories surfaced, each more unwelcome than the last. And then, the worst thought of all—what else was happening back home?

Dad was gone. But when he realized Jason had up and left, he would’ve been furious.

He’d probably have taken it out on Catherine.

Jason took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the anxiety clawing its way up his throat. He looked at the ceiling, at the stains there, forcing himself to focus. Trying to calm down.

Everything around him seemed to halt—until you placed a plate in front of him. Only then did Jason snap back to himself.

It took him a moment to pull out of his thoughts, and when he did, his eyes widened slightly. He stared down at the plate—rice, chicken, and whatever else you'd thrown in.

You didn’t have anything for yourself, but he caught you eyeing the pizza slices in the fridge.

“…Thanks,” he muttered before shoving a bite into his mouth. It wasn’t poisoned. And, surprisingly, it was good. Then again, maybe that was just the hunger talking.

It took him barely thirty seconds to finish half the plate. He wanted more—needed more—but forced himself to slow down. His body wouldn’t handle too much too soon.

You watched for a moment.

You handed him a glass of water.

Jason glanced at it, then back at you, silently studying your expression, trying to figure you out.

You were… kind. You’d taken him in, given him food—at the very least, you pitied him.

God knows why.

No.

Jason knew why. He knew exactly what he looked like. But he figured you had no business judging him, considering your own appearance.

Not that he was one to judge, either.

He reached out and gently grabbed the glass, taking a sip and letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. He would’ve thanked her, but he didn’t.

“What’s with the name on that mug?”

He asked, glancing beside her at a Christmas-themed cup with a name that definitely wasn’t yours.

"Ah. Dunno... I guess it’s the lady who’s supposed to be living here?"

"Someone lives with you?"

"If someone taller than you asks, then yes. Auntie—" She squinted, holding up the mug to read the name. "Gloria... Huh."

Yup. Definitely weird.

Jason knew it wasn’t true the second the name passed her lips because Catherine never mentioned a sister or an aunt. But Willis? That was a different story…

Jason blinked on edge again.

“Auntie Gloria?” he repeats, his eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to think of how to face a possible adult. The idea of an older relative living with you and him not noticing until now was confusing enough on its own, but the name was unfamiliar.

“Wait… she’s related to us?” Carefully adding himself to the mix, but for the sake of his mental health, he indulged for the first of many times to come in not asking about it again when you looked even slightly conflicted.

Ignorance was a blessing and you were underage, so it'll make sense you'll lie to adults about an imaginary aunt.

Jason couldn't risk slipping. You'd be everything he'd had to rely on when he manages to convince you to come with him back home to help with mom.

No doubt that he'll drag you home if he had to.

He had no choice.

He needed your help with Mom and he hated it. Hated how the air felt heavier the longer he stood there. Hated that his sister had chosen *this* place over home.

But mostly, he hated the gnawing fear in his chest—the one that had only grown stronger ever since he walked through that door.

"You need to come back," he said, voice tighter than he meant it to be. He’d practiced what he was going to say on the way here, but now it was all unraveling like the blocks he walked talking to himself under the rain meant nothing. "Mom’s sick, and I—I can’t do this alone, (Name)."

It was a rare admission for him.

You took a seat in front of him and his half eaten plate. Cross-legged under the table but changing your posture as if never truly settled. Probably why you didn’t look up right away. The dim light made your already hard to read face, harder than it was, casting sharp angles where softness used to be.

You exhaled through your nose. "Jason—"

"Please," he cut in, wanting to stand up, heart hammering against his ribs made his legs disobey. "I need you. She needs you."

Something flickered across your face then, quick and uncertain that made you chew on your bottom lip and your fingers tangle absentmindedly, and for a second—a brief, agonizing second—Jason thought you might refuse outright.

He readied himself and picked a counter argument of which he had a lot.

Instead, you sighed.

"Tomorrow," you said. "It’s dark. And it’s raining."

His breath caught. "So… you’ll come back?"

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then you nodded. "Tomorrow."

Relief crashed into him like a wave, but it didn’t settle right. There was something about the way you said it—vague, distant, reluctant.

Telling him what he wanted to hear. Just to soothe him.

Jason swallowed hard, pushing that thought down. Tomorrow. You said tomorrow. He'll only calm down once you are at home, but this was enough for now.

Even if something about the way you sat in that dit felt like you were slipping through his fingers.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it was getting worse—pounding against the windows, turning the city outside into a smear of dim streetlights and endless shadows.

Jason had refused the bed you so kindly offered him in favor of dozing off curled up awkwardly in the couch, exhaustion pulling him under despite the unease still crawling under his skin.

You sat by the window, knees drawn to your chest, eyes distant, not going to bed yourself because you'll feel guilty for sleeping comfortably while your baby brother struggled to sleep on the couch with a humid towel as a blanket.

And just maybe he thought you were weird for that.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until his voice—low from disuse but child-like pitched—broke through it.

"Is it bad to miss someone you can’t even remember?"

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, you turned your head.

The words settled deep into your bones, curling around old wounds, reopening stitches sewed with dental floss you have been holding shut with both hands around the stretch marks simulating fingers.

It was not the time for an analogy but your unaware grip tightened slightly against the fabric of your sleeves.

"I missed you," words pushed through softly.

The rain kept falling.

No memory could fill the gap—it had been too long ago, and he had been too young. All he could do was piece together imagined scenarios, trying to soothe himself, only to shudder at the thought of them.

Maybe wanting a real family had been too much to ask for.

A home without a deadbeat dad. A mother who wasn’t drowning in addiction. A sister who never would have left him—never would have left him like you did. And maybe even a family dog.

But that wasn’t the life he got.

And you? You failed.

A bad sister to Jason. A bad daughter to Catherine. You left them with your father, and that truth weighed on you like an unshakable burden. The one absolute you carried on your shoulders.

You felt cold as the monster of your own making clawed at your ribcage from the inside, desperate to break free.

But the real problem—the one you couldn’t afford to face—was how much you missed home.

You couldn't do that to yourself. You couldn't want what you ran from.

Because nothing was more dangerous than the illusion of a family that never really existed.

Jason paused at your words, glancing up.

Normally, your carefree nature would have prompted some teasing remark about staring. But now, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unbroken.

Something he had to say without letting himself stutter.

"You missed… me?"

Almost wanting to brush it off as an empty platitude, something said out of obligation. But deep down, in the twisting knot of his gut, Jason knew you meant every single word. The weight of it had been steeping in years of regret and unspoken sorrow.

And then there was the very idea of you missing him—which was both baffling and, to his surprise, oddly comforting.

"A little weird, out of the blue. I know," you admitted, backpedaling. "I just don’t get why you hardly remember me… I wasn’t gone that long."

Yet weird was putting it lightly.

Jason swallowed hard, his heart clenching painfully under the weight of emotions he couldn’t fully name.

He wanted to remember. God, he wanted to remember you—everything about you. Whatever moments you’d shared, whatever time you'd had together before it all went to hell. He reached for those memories, clawed for them, but nothing surfaced. Nothing real.

His breath wavered as he forced himself to stay steady.

"I… I wish I did. Dammit." His voice was quiet, edged with frustration.

"It 's okay. I'll remember. It’s not enough, but it’s what we get."

Jason nodded slightly, but something about that statement stuck with him.

He couldn’t remember you. And he probably never would.

Other people got their warm family moments, their second chances. But not them.

He took another shaky breath, fighting the lump in his throat, while you turned away, staring blankly out the window.

"It sucks," he murmured, avoiding your gaze. There were no portraits on the walls, just a scattering of trinkets everywhere.

"Like Dad used to say—‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’"

Jason scoffed. Of course that was something Dad would say.

"Don’t do that, though..."

He looked up, meeting your tired expression as you side-eyed him.

“Don’t die…?” he echoed, lacing his words with sarcasm. “Yeah, okay… I’ll get right on that.”

"Good boy." You offered a thumbs-up.

Jason snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

Still… he appreciated it. Keeping himself alive had been hard, but something about the praise made his chest feel a little warmer. Not that he was about to acknowledge it.

"You talk like some old lady," he teased.

"You eat like a dog."

Jason gasped, feigning offense. "I do not eat like a dog," he argued, his voice dripping with exaggerated indignation. "I eat like a growing boy who’s going through puberty and also hadn’t eaten in days and was basically starving, thank you very much."

"What puberty could you possibly be going through? You're eight."

Jason huffed, rolling his eyes before responding, utterly insulted. "I’m turning eleven next month. Which means I’m almost twelve. And then thirteen."

He sounded genuinely offended.

"And I’ve already started growing," he added, even though it was painfully obvious he hadn’t—still a four-foot ball of snark.

"Oh? Growing roots or…?"

Jason groaned, pouting in annoyance. He clearly hated the teasing.

"I've grown, I’ll have you know," he insisted, trying his best to sound confident. "I can cook now and—and I found my way here alone, too."

"I can tell you did," you said, watching him carefully. "Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like."

It was subtle. A small probe, a quiet way of fishing for details.

Maybe Catherine had known you were here.

The smirk faltered—but Jason covered it with a scoff. Mouth opened to ask how you ended up here. But then he hesitated, remembering the promise you’d made him make earlier. He didn’t want to risk breaking it.

Still, it tugged at him.

He thought about asking anyway. But it could hurt.

“…Why here, anyway?” His voice held a tinge of curiosity. “Do you really live here alone?”

"You met the neighbor," you replied, lips curling into a squinting little smile.

Glasses. That had to be it. You probably needed glasses—that’s why your eyes looked so weird.

Focusing on that theory was a hundred times better than thinking about the kind of people who might live here. The kind that had you so scared before.

Because he’d already decided—he was going to believe you weren’t scary.

His gaze flickered around the abandoned building again. Yeah… still not convinced.

It was subtle, but Jason had a habit of checking his surroundings. Always. And you noticed.

“How bad is your vision?” he asked bluntly.

"My vision?" You raised an eyebrow. "I can see you just fine."

Jason rolled his eyes, smirking. "I’m not saying you’re completely blind. I’m asking if you need glasses."

He didn’t add that the squinting seemed suspicious. Instead, he flashed you an innocent smile before adding,

“You look like an owl when you do that, you know that, right?”

"Do what?"

You tilted your head slightly, just like a bird—clearly on purpose, just to mess with him.

Jason couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.

"That." He motioned toward your head. "Stop that."

He wasn’t really annoyed, though. He was amused.

Something about the way you focused on him, how you responded to everything he said, how you kept looking at him—not just hearing him but listening…

It made his chest feel warm.

Jason shifted, reluctant to leave the warmth of the couch. Exhaustion clung to him, but something about the quiet moment pulled him up.

With a sluggish motion, he pushed himself upright, the towels draped over his shoulders slipping slightly. Instinctively he grabbed onto them, pulling as they were his armor against the lingering cold. The one on his head slid forward though, nearly covering his eyes, and he huffed. There had to be a reason why he tugged it back into place before letting out a quiet sigh when he could have just thrown them around.

Bare feet padding softly against the floor, made his way to your side. Towels rustling with every step. The warmth they held was fading, but he kept them wrapped around him anyway.

By the window, he didn’t say anything at first—just gave a little jump to sit on the counter with you, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, staring out at whatever had your attention.

Jason reached out, one hand wrapping around your arm while the other cupped your cheek, gently but firmly keeping your head still.

His eyes narrowed studying you—staring at you—his expression unreadable.

“Do you need glasses or something?” he asked bluntly.

"What?"

"You keep closing one eye like that," he pointed out, tilting his head slightly. "You kinda look like an owl."

"An owl? Like... hoot hoot?"

Jason scoffed at your lame attempt at an owl impression.

“Owls don’t even make that sound,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm—but the amused smirk tugging at his lips betrayed any real annoyance.

"I tried," you defended with a small shrug. "I’ve never seen an owl in my life."

"Me neither. But I know they don't sound like that,"

With a sigh, Jason finally let go of your face and arm, but not before tapping the top of your head in some vague, brotherly gesture.

“Now answer me. Glasses—yes or no?”

"Probably?" You popped the *p* before hesitating, still smiling but uncertain.

"I can see…" Your eyes narrowed, focusing like it required actual effort. Finally, with newfound, almost forced optimism, you pointed.

"The couch," you declared with newfound optimism from somewhere.

Jason didn’t even bother holding back his expression—half unimpressed, half entertained.

You just couldn’t help it. Something about him was so amusing. If not a little annoying.

“You’re nearly blind, then,” Jason said, his eyes widening like he had just stumbled upon a groundbreaking discovery. Somehow, despite being as blunt as ever, he didn’t sound mean—just genuinely baffled.

“So, the door? You can barely see that behind me? And—and when you stared at me outside, it was because you couldn’t see me?"

“Yeaaaah, sure,” you drawled, dragging out the word. “That’s why I stared at you for so long…”

Jason didn’t catch the sarcasm. If anything, the idea only made him more fascinated, his eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

He turned his head away, trying (and failing) to hide the red creeping up his face behind a cough.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean to tell me that you were just standing there, squinting at me like that because you couldn’t even tell it was me at the door?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, not when he looked at you like that—like a kid uncovering some great mystery.

The truth was, you hadn’t recognized him at first. And then, when you did, you had hesitated for too many seconds, unwilling to acknowledge it.

So instead, you just stained your smile onto your face, squinted at him again, and shrugged.

“A bit.”

You’d rather let him think you were blind than admit to the real reason. And, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely a lie—your vision did blur every so often.

Jason let out a short laugh at your answer, shaking his head.

“A bit, you say? You straight up stared at me, and I thought you were just crazy or something.” He laughed again, but after a second, his expression shifted. His gaze flickered over the way your eyes kept narrowing and refocusing, and a small frown tugged at his lips.

“…You can’t see anything far away at all, can you?”

"Hey!”

Jason raised a brow, crossing his arms as he held up two fingers right in front of your face.

“You can see what… how many fingers am I holding up, then?”

Deciding to humor him, you rolled your eyes before deliberately answering wrong.

“Four.”

“Ha! Nope, wrong.” Jason waved the two fingers closer to your face, smirking as if he’d just won a game. “You really got that wrong? C’mon, try again.”

His grin was practically gleeful as he held up the same two fingers, waiting expectantly.

You squinted dramatically, leaning in like a grandma reading the fine print on a receipt.

“Oh! …Two!”

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is that an actual answer or a guess, you blind bat?”

Before you could answer, he held up four fingers this time, wiggling them teasingly.

“How about this number?”

“Okay, okay, enough eye testing for tonight,” you dismissed, waving a hand.

Jason snickered, finally lowering his hand, but the playful spark in his eyes remained.

“But I was just getting to the fun part.”

Then, as his laughter faded, he leaned in slightly. His smirk stayed, but his expression turned more serious.

“Seriously, though. You’re basically blind,” he said, shaking his head. “You gotta get glasses.”

You shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Maybe one day.”

And why wouldn't he catch the way your voice dipped slightly? Or how your fingers twitched against the counter? Obviously something about the way you said it—too casual.

Jason was young, not stupid.

Of course you didn’t have glasses. Of course, you couldn't just get them. Just like how dinner was either pizza or leftovers. Just like how there was no microwave.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“…You can’t get them, can you?” he asked, quieter this time.

You blinked at him, “I could if I wanted to.”

Jason stared.

You sighed, finally breaking on that front.

“No, I can’t.”

Surprising even if it shouldn't have been. And for some reason, it made his chest feel tight. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much—just one more thing neither of you could have. Jason nudged you lightly with his elbow, like he wasn’t about to say what he was about to say.

“…Guess I’ll just have to be your seeing-eye dog or something,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Oh, so now you admit you eat like a dog?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Okay, no! That’s not what I meant.”

But when your expression had softened—not in pity, but in something almost grateful, so did he.

And Jason decided right then that until you could afford glasses, he’d just have to be your extra pair of eyes.

[overflowingteacupoflove]

deadpool!chris x spiderman (girl)!reader....

[kira-sucks-lawlipops]

I used to work the front reception desk at a hospital that charged exorbitantly for patient and visitor parking. This was an undercover parking lot with a boomgate at the exit, not street parking as in the video above. It cost $13 an hour, for everyone at all times of the day with no exceptions.

Want to wait for a loved one who will be in surgery all day? That'll be a hundred bucks. Come here twice a week for dialysis? Another hundred, but every week for the rest of your life. The real kicker was that it never reset or expired. We had people who came into the emergency room, ended up getting admitted into a ward, and didn't think to do anything about their car sitting in the parking lot for days on end, racking up hour after hour of fees. Then when they finally got discharged, they'd call us from the garage in tears because the ticket machine was telling them they needed to pay thousands of dollars just to go home.

There was one loophole to this. If a ticket malfunctioned at the boomgate, we could press an override button to open it manually. This was for "emergencies only", so we couldn't do anything from the ticket machine, and we couldn't trigger it without receiving a call from the boomgate.

For five years, anytime anyone asked me any sort of question about parking, I would tell them to ignore the ticket machine entirely, go directly to the boomgate and press the 'assisance' button. And then I would let them out of the parking lot.

I probably cost the hospital more than my salary in parking fees.

Why did I do this? Was it out of selfless love for my fellow human beings? A deeply-seated belief that charging people for being sick is evil? A desire to fight the man in whatever small way I could?

Not really.

Don't get me wrong, those things did apply. I think parking fees at hospitals are evil and should be abolished. But my strongest motivator for always letting people out of the parking lot was because that was the easiest way to solve the problem.

Basically the entire time I worked at that hospital I was always 1) too busy 2) too exhausted and 3) not paid enough to care about dealing with the parking lot. The tickets were buggy, the machine was always malfunctioning and the system was exploitative. Why would I ever make that my priority when I had access to a magic button that instantly made the problem go away?

Now pay attention class. Why have I told you this story?

Because it applies to 90% of people whose job it is to monitor parking lots.

I cannot count how many times I've been in some shopping mall or convention centre or whatever, stuck a ticket into a machine and decided that actually I don't want to pay that much for parking here today. So I just drove to the boomgate and pressed the button to call for help and then was allowed to leave for free. All you have to do is say that you already paid at the machine but now the gate isn't reading your ticket correctly. The person who has to resolve that problem for you will almost always choose to hand you a 'get out of parking jail free' card rather than actually try to deal with it.

The only time I've ever gotten challenged was one guy who told me to reverse and come into the parking office (lol no), but I couldn't recerse because there were other cars behind me so he had to let me go. If you are not one for lying just crumple the ticket up a bit or scratch out part of the barcode. Don't say you lost it (some places charge at the boomgate for lost tickets), say the machine can't read it and then say hello to free parking for life.

May 31 2016 - Collin Kennedy, who is a cancer patient, used expanding spray foam to disable a parking meter at the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg where he gets his treatment. He says the fees are a tax on the sick. [video]

[datcravat]

It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!

[artilite]

fuck you *lethal companies your in stars and time*

(long) exposition under cut (spoilers for ISAT + lethal company logs)

This au takes place around the time of sigurd's logs/before them (i haven't decided if Sigurd's crew exists here or not yet)!

Siffrin was someone who used to live on the Golden Planet before it got eaten. They may not remember anything beyond being found in an escape pod, but they're still paralyzed by fear when getting close to the selling window. He's always first in the facilities, making jumps, braving traps, and heading as deep as he can for scrap.

Mirabelle and Isabeau are the medic and fighter respectively, who both came from the same moon colony. They were both pressured into taking jobs by a work-based society, and applied for the company under the impression that it was a short, high-paying internship with nebulous risks.

Odile is their resident ship manager. She keeps a watchful eye over everyone and relays information about monsters, scrap, etc. In absolutely dire situations, she may come help with scrap. Despite claiming to be a first-timer, her badge says Leader??

Nille and Bonnie ended up with the crew after taking a chance to run away from their parents. Seeing a high-paying job that provided everything and would take them far away sounded too good to pass up. Nille lied about Bonnie's age to take them with her. After seeing the reality of this job, though, she regrets not finding another way out. Bonnie is permanently on ship-duty; they mainly type in whatever numbers Odile tells them. Nille is also a fighter, though she prefers the weighty stop sign as opposed to Isabeau's shovel.

Loop, after hundreds upon thousands of quotas, dying every possible death, learning everything they could- even the real identity of The Company- realizes there was one thing they've never done before. They've never died to The Company. Desperate for a way out, and haunted by the whispers and screams beyond the wall, they give themselves up. Maybe that would finally satisfy the monster- to have devoured every last piece of the Golden Planet. Maybe their crew could finally rest easy that way. Well, they didn't loop back. But through the dark and damp, there's static on the walkie talkie. Loop picks up, and hears their own voice just beyond the wall.

(Loop's design is the most different by far, since instead of consuming a star, they themselves are slowly getting digested. They're inspired by the visual of red crying faces from the logs :D)

[andorerso]

I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad. Welcome home.

[iturmom]

fuck it i'll explain myself real simple like line by line so everyone can understand because i'm sick of thinking about this.

1 idk who anthony bourdain is. my tags are not in response to him as a person or his character but what he is saying in this snippet of an interview. i still haven't looked him up and it doesn't matter because i am not making a character judgement of him. i don't give a shit about his character. his words were a conversation starter for me, nothing more.

2. it gives off alpha male vibes. does that mean he's an alpha male? no. am i suggesting he's friends with andrew tate? never. again i am saying nothing about his character, just the vibes of his words. people are so much more than just one out of context conversation.

3. judging a woman for how she eats is inherently misogynistic. she's been literally trained like a fucking animal since birth to eat dainty and be ashamed of everything. and now you're judging women for the way they were socialized in a patriarchal society where boys are allowed to eat like animals but girls get shamed for it. now a man is shaming girls for the way they've been conditioned. he's not only talking about his wife he is talking about women as a whole as if women are a monolith. because when you say something in a public forum like an interview in a famous publication i assume that is obviously seen by many people, when you suggest things about women, it can be internalized by every woman or afab who reads it. he should know this when he is speaking in public platforms. any public facing person should know this, i mean they make money off this fact

4. no one seems bothered by this one thanks

5. or this i guess?

6 7 & 8 i think i explained pretty well? i can clarify further tho

9. i don't eat for a man's entertainment or lack thereof i don't eat for men! fuck anthony bourdain for the tiniest annoyance of the slight implication that women's eating habits have anything to do with a man. i'm sure someone has said fuck anthony bourdain before and got drinks afterward with him. i imagine that's how celebrities live sometimes idk? so yeah i think he can handle an internet stranger saying fuck anthony bourdain on a post he'll never see? i don't think he cares really he has a lot of money

10. the implication is there bc he gave many examples which were exclusively meat, and one cheese which is. idk not much better? cause like i don't eat meat so is he suggesting that when i go on a date i'm supposed to order a whole block of cheese and just bite straight into it like an apple? no he's not bc he's not thinking about vegetarians bc it's impossible to go feral over a vegetarian burrito, over a veggie burger, is what i'm kinda taking from where his focus lies. doesn't eat meat= dainty= unsexy= bad. not necessarily in that order but these things seem to be implied.

after that i just devolved into irrational anger for the drama. i thought that was pretty obvious by wishing he steps on a lego and not wishing actual suffering on him..... sorry it didn't play very well i guess

also never said it was a joke. i don't do comedy. i was exaggerating my emotions for the drama. if you don't like people who exaggerate their emotions sometimes then my blog is not for you and that's okay!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[pinktokk1]

i'm sick in the head

[screenshots taken by @/drusoona]

[katagawajr]

-> Toshiro & Erina + parallels