#i mean i pay her for a service so there’s that
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can we please get a buring spice x fragile reader, like they want to help and fight/hunt but physical can't because they are that fragile, simply bumbing into another cookie could cause them to crack!
Do Not Go Gently
[Burning Spice Cookie x Fragile Reader]
I was inspired and tried something a little different with this so I hope you like it! and Burning Spice redemption anyone? B)
The life of a Wild Spice was fraught with constant struggle and danger. If you were weak, you would be ground into dust, either by one of the other tribes or by the Great Destroyer himself. And you happened to be one of the weaker spices.
Delicate and fragile by nature, your main ingredient was parsley. The harsh desert winds of your homeland often left your leaves and dough brittle. The stronger Wild Spices almost always belittled you and your small tribe as you barely etched out an existence. You weren't tough and built with natural armour, like the Pepper Pangolins, or strong like the Saffron Buffaloes. But if there was one thing you were, it was tenacious.
When the Great Destroyer returned, you feared that your inherent frailness only spelled ruin for you and your tribe, soon to join the scattered remains of your ancestors. Despite the risks, you boldly joined the other Wild Spice leaders and offered your loyalty and service to Burning Spice Cookie.
He had looked over you and laughed, calling you weak and pathetic. As you knelt there, showing your sincere devotion, you thought it was all over for you. Still, Burning Spice miraculously passed over you and left you be. The Great Destroyer was not known to spare those he thought weak, so you could only imagine that he saw something in you that you hadn't. Since that moment, you were inspired by the Great Destroyer, not out of fear but admiration. You knew he didn't care for you. With a sweep of his hand, he could wipe your existence from this earth in seconds. But still, you fought hard and trained harder until your dough was cracked and crumbling to show that you had a right to continue living. Burning Spice Cookie had spared you. Your life had to mean something to him.
The little thing kneeling at his feet was pathetic. A Cookie so fragile that their dough cracked at the mildest of strikes was not worthy to be in his presence. And yet, instead of hiding from his inevitable fury, here you were. Burning Spice had to admit, you had guts. He didn't want to waste his time crumbling you himself when he knew you wouldn't put up a good fight. It would be far more entertaining to watch you struggle, only for you to fall to your unavoidable fate.
And yet...
That moment never came. Regardless of how grievous your wounds or the crumbling of your dough, you threw yourself back into battle again and again. Unafraid of the death that awaited you. Burning Spice Cookie found himself almost... fascinated by you.
You were so fragile, doomed to fail. And yet... you fought to cling a little longer to your short, pathetic life.
It reminded him of a time long past.
One day, after Burning Spice had enough of the annoying thoughts of you buzzing around his head, he decided to pay your tribe a visit. All the inhabitants of your tribe weren't as tough as you, which was somewhat of a disappointment. They scurried into their homes, terrified of him, or fell to their knees, grovelling at his feet for mercy. But you... you remained standing, like a resolute warrior, poised as if death were coming to claim you. You were unafraid. You had accepted it, but that did not mean you would go without a grand fight.
He approached you, ignoring the rest of your tribe, and you bowed your head in respect to the Great Destroyer. You didn't bow as deeply as you used to, but Burning Spice let it slide.
You had changed. Your eyes held a solemn understanding, and your dough was now riddled with scars, honourable rewards of fighting to see another day.
Burning Spice Cookie watched you, realizing he had no words. Why had curiosity brought him here to see you? He couldn't come up with an answer. His previous excuse of being amused by your antics had faded into something... else.
You broke the silence and invited Burning Spice Cookie into your humble home, and he accepted. Your tribe was astonished at their leader, who stood fearlessly in front of the Great Destroyer, and he had not razed their village to the ground in retaliation.
"Well, this is a surprise." Burning Spice Cookie mused. It was still surprising to him. Destruction was the end of all things, whether by his hand or not. But you stood in the face of it and fought it. Refusing to meet it on its terms.
"That I'm still here?" You replied bluntly, an amused smile on your face. Burning Spice Cookie would usually have felt excitement upon discovering a Cookie like you - someone who could ignite his passion and provide a worthy challenge now that you had grown stronger against all odds. However, that’s not how he felt at this moment. It wasn't even boredom. Instead, he felt the same solemness reflected in your eyes.
Burning Spice Cookie asked you to be his right hand. The request came so suddenly that it left you momentarily stunned. All the strife and gruelling work you had endured had finally paid off in a way you never could have imagined.
"Yes, I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." You said, quickly bowing your head deeply in gratitude.
Burning Spice Cookie knew that your luck was going to eventually run out and your fragile dough would crumble, slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Like with all things, it was inevitable, regardless of how hard you fought to cling to your pitiful life.
But he would be there when it happened, he would watch you. He would burn your rage into his mind as you descended into the endless night, fighting and spitting for just one more day.
Once you joined your ancestors, he would remember you. Always.
#cookie love letters 💌#Anonymous#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#cookie run x y/n#cookie run x you#cookie run x reader#x reader#x male reader#male reader#trans man reader#cr x reader#burning spice cookie#burning spice x reader#writing this made me emotional. don't ask why 🧍♂️ idk hfjfhgjfh
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Yeah, this is such a non-issue it's embarrassing for Marinette's character at this point.
Even if she wants to continue upholding the lie towards the world so Adrien won't pay the price for it, that doesn't stop her from doing the obviously right thing to do and stop gaslighting her boyfriend into idolizing his terrorist abuser and pretty much enslaver.
She has EIGHT fucking people in this who's support she has at her finger tips
Nathalie, Felix, Kagami, Amilie,
Alix, Plagg, Tikki,
(I'm gonna be very nice and ignore how heavily the end of season 5 implied that Marinette told Alya and Suhan about Adrien being a Senti, with her putting so much emphasis on the double rings by naming them first)
And just involve the God damn Gorilla already. It was already unnecessary that Marinette didn't give the Gorilla any heads up whatsoever about Gabriel's death, so he isn't caught off guard and can support Adrien when she breaks the truth to him. But nah, gotta have Marinette pretend like she still has no one and nothing when she's the most supported and benefitting character in the whole show.
This is such a non-fucking-issue.
Even if Marinette feels too tortured at this point to have a conversation that isn't primarily to 90% about her feelings, comfort, and care, or else she'll break down crying
Then, for the love of God, get everybody else on it already! This is not about her! She doesn't have to be the one to say it cause it's not her damn secret to keep.
This girl is given everything a protagonist could possibly dream off and she's disregarding all of it AGAIN in favor of crying that she doesn't have enough yet because doing the right thing might mean her boyfriend will need more support instead of giving it I guess.
There is literally no issue here besides Marinette's victim complex combined with her need to control everything so she feels better about any discomfort she's experiencing. Yes, she CAN tell him. She SHOULD tell him, even if it's just for the sake of not putting his life on the line by not withholding the information anymore of what the rings at his hand are!
She doesn't have to be the one to tell him. She just needs to get over herself for once and stop demanding that this is primarily about HER feeling comfortable with her lies and finally learn the lesson this show has been using as a lip service excuse for 2 SEASONS now.
How is this a problem for such a privileged main character?? Not to mention the hypocrisy of Marinette once again doing something to her love interest that she wouldn't tolerate being done to herself. How lovely. How is she a role model for children?
i can see adrien admiring his father but i also wanna see conflict where he is also resenting him, but feels incredibly guilty for being angry or upset at the way gabriel treated him if he supposedly loved him and was a good father, like doesn’t it kinda hurt to hear people praise gabriel for being a hero and not knowing the stuff he put him through…thinking..thinking…
#miraculous ladybug#ml#marinette dupain cheng#marinette deserves better#adrien deserves better#abused kids deserve better
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The following evening, The Girls’ Room, The Pink Pony
Crystal has just settled on the couch to sedate herself with some mindless free-to-air television (the ancient TV in the girls’ room doesn’t support streaming services and the management is too stingy to splurge on a Smart TV) when she hears a smoky voice behind her say “Hey, Sexy.”
Crystal twists her neck around to find the new girl, Shanni, grinning at her.
“Hey,” says Crystal politely.
“I’ve got some guy in the room who wants a lesbian double,” says Shanni. “He’s clean, well-dressed, business type. He’s willing to pay a shitload of money, too. Are you in?”
“Thank you for asking me, but no,” says Crystal. “Why don’t you ask Carmen? She’s always up for a bit of girl-on-girl action.”
“Blondes don't do anything for me,” pouts Shanni. “I’m only interested in doing it with you. You’re fucking gorgeous. Come on. Please. You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll do all the work. You can just lie back and enjoy yourself while I -“
“Shanni, the reason I can’t do it is because I’m busy right now,” says Crystal. “I have a booking.”
“You have a booking,” repeats Shanni. “What do you mean, you have a booking? If you have a booking, why are you sitting on the couch watching TV? Where the fuck is he?”
“I have no idea,” smiles Crystal. ”This is the fourth week in a row he hasn’t shown up. But he’s still booked and paid for two hours. The two hours isn’t up for another ninety minutes. So you see, even if I was in the mood to do a lesbian double, I couldn’t. I’m busy.”
“Let me get this straight,” says Shanni. “You have a two hour prepaid booking every week with some guy who doesn’t even show the fuck up?”
“He used to show up,” says Crystal. “He just hasn’t shown up recently. I think he must have some dramas with his new girlfriend. But who cares as long as I’m still getting paid, right?”
“What’s to stop you seeing other clients at the same time, though?” says Shanni.
“Absolutely nothing,” says Crystal. “But that wouldn’t be ethical, would it?”
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my cute emo hair stylist complemented me on my day old eye make up today and i’m just gonna go cry now.
#it was so genuine too#like#i blurted out that it was yesterdays makeup like an idiot#and she just#‘nooo!! day old eyeliner and red shadow always looks better the day after!’#😭😭😭😭#so yeah#the cute emo hair stylist thinks my make up is great#and one can only hope she thinks i’m great too#i mean i pay her for a service so there’s that#i’m under no true delusion that she wasn’t just making conversation with her client.#but like#she’s so nice#and so fucking pretty#and her makeup is always killer#hair stylist#hair salon#razor blade haircut#emo#punk#fashion
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every day my sister-in-law tests me by posting the stupidest fucking shit on facebook
#one day I’m gonna finally lose it and start being mean in the comments#like what do you mean it only took two old ladies coming to your door to get you to vote for tr*mp?#why are you saying public schools are so scary bc if property taxes aren’t raised the schools will lose some services#girl why do you care about property taxes you live in my brother’s house and don’t pay any bills#she’s also an anti-vaxxer but only bc she doesn’t want anyone telling her what to do#my brother is well aware everyone in our family thinks his wife is an idiot but good god#it’s so annoying that I have to tolerate her being married to my brother
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I'm about to be so annoying btw
#by this I mean I'm going to talk about my job until it's no longer new and exciting sorry guys#but this is literally the first good thing to happen to me in MONTHS#shit has been so bad like SO unbelievably bad for a WHILE#like. not only do I have a job (!!!!!!) but it actually seems like a really good fit for me and what I need#like. the hours aren't horrible and in fact I could stand to have more of them#the pay isn't *good* but it's not the worst I've ever made for sure#the work environment though... that's where it gets me. because I get to just be one guy in a store interacting with customers and literally#nobody else#for most of my workday#like. no small talk except for with customers. no learning about my coworker's stupid life. no trying to get along with someone for the sake#of work#like. I just get to be alone and sell shit and when it's slow I get to organize shit like. hello??? yes please#I don't have to be micromanaged because I'm literally alone. like. god I'm so excited#plus it's similar to work I've done before. so. yay#I do really like the coworker I've met before though. he's very sedate and has excellent customer service.#which I know bc every time my mom shops there and he's the one working he's very genial and nice#definitely good at his job. but I wouldn't be surprised if he was getting high in the back or something lmao#he's just so calm ive never met a dude more chill like. he seems like the exact opposite of anxious#and then my other coworker I haven't met yet but I'm sure she's fine.#I do like my boss though! and she's only my boss until they get another manager bc she's actually the manager at another location too#she's just filling in here while they look for another manager#but I like her she was extremely up-front and no-nonsense and plainly stated exactly what she needs from an employer#employee*#which is honestly such a relief like my last job I felt like I had no clue what people wanted from me and it was horrible#but this seems better so far#also I know for a fact I beat out two other people who had interviews the same day and I was so much the preferred choice#that she didn't even wait to decide or anything#she called me like a few hours after my interview ended like. that 3rd person left and she immediately hired me instead lol#which I have to admit does feel good after so long feeling inadequate and unhirable.#I am more hirable than at least two people. so THERE
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🫠
#the way i had one lady say i had the worst attitude she's ever seen and another say im her favorite server and i always get her order right#within the same shift#the duality of customer service#im still so perplexed by the mean one she said i always take out her order but i swear ive never seen someone have that specific issue#and i even undercharged her for the extra stuff she ordered because she was being understanding#and then she still refused to pay for it#tf 😭
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Is one day of peace too much to ask for? All signs point to yes.
#my step mother decided not to go to work yet again today and yesterday#which means im stuck spending yet another day in my room#i have my voice lesson today#on zoom#and my step mother gets mad if i do it while shes home#because it interrupts her tv watching#but im paying a lot of money for it so im not just going to skip it#i already do it in the back bedroom with the door closed#and more than that#anytime either one of them is home i have to be perfectly 100% customer service level ofhappy and accommodating#otherwise its proof that hrt is turning me evil#despite the fact that i just had an appointment yesterday and they're switching me back to injections#because a pretty high dose of the gel had my t levels lower than even the lowest dose of injections#barely higher than is expected in a cis woman#so like even if not being all smiles and sunshine while being insulted 5 minutes after waking up was an indicator of evil#its certainly not due to the testosterone#i just want to lay on the couch and watch a movie in my limited time when im not at work or sleeping so i can go back to work
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Love that the eras tour film will finally be on streaming, feel a little icky about it being on Disney+ but then again what big streaming service has morals I stand behind?
#i mean a small service would probably become big if taylor put her stuff on there#oh well#at least i have access to a disney+ i don't pay for#so good for me i guess?#the eras movie
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i just had the worst autistic experience at a quick serve restaurant where i was trying to order the “chicken with 2 sides” option, which i was trying to make macaroni and yuca fries.
what the employee SHOULD have said was “yuca fries cannot be chosen for this meal as they are a Specialty Side, and only original sides qualify for this specific meal”. i would have understood perfectly. instead what did she keep repeating to me over and over, getting annoyed when i didn’t understand?
“what it says on the menu and what you’re asking for are two different things”
….. bitch what?????
i damn near cried no matter what i asked she would not explain it to me differently i was ready to give up my order entirely until my mother stepped up to figure it out for me.
catch me making my own food at home for the rest of the WEEK at least
#her service was actually terrible like she was being so mean agsjsbdks and did not give a shit about our food At All#then i asked for a side of sauce and she said ‘you don’t order it’#what she meant was… u don’t pay for it. ask for it when u get ur order. but what do u MEAN???#’can i get mac and cheese and yuca fries with my chicken please’ ‘no.’ ‘um. why’ ‘you can have mac and cheese if you order that’#W HAT?? 😭😭😭#then this bitch ROLLS HER EYES and says lemme try to explain this to u. u can’t order that.#i am literally this close to shutting down WHY CANT I ORDER THAT#finally my mom gets it out of her that i can pick 2 sides yes. from this other section.#i ended up getting a chicken + 1 side and then just… adding a side of yuca#but what the actual fuck#i told my mother after: this is what even regular interactions tend to feel like for me even when the person thinks they’re being clear#like genuinely that was harrowing
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#breathing deep and I recognize I shouldn’t use tumblr as a journal but this is my coping mechanism#and I need it rn lol#so the situation is worse than I thought#emergency rental assistance only covered my moms rent until January rather than February#the property never told me it was late#now they tell me today I need to pay two full months’ rent or my mom’s evicted#so I spring into action and I’m panicking tf out today#and I get a hold of my mom’s social worker at aging and long term care#bc she got approved for their housing voucher!! and I thought it was already submitted!!#the whole POINT of emergency rent was that it would give them a few months to get her on housing#but no - two months AFTER it ends she finally gets the voucher#actually she doesn’t even have it yet. they submit the paperwork April 3rd#so it won’t even take effect next month. meaning I actually need to pay THREE month’s rent#nearly $3600 with $150 in late fees tacked on#I’m. a mess today. esp after finding out someone stole my passport and was trying to steal my identity#but that didn’t stop me and we found an emergency service that will pay backrent when someone’s facing eviction.#it can take 8-12 weeks (!!!) to process but I gave the necessary permissions to everyone and so the landlord and my moms social worker#talked and he explained everything going on and is sending the plan in writing to her. and she’s forwarding it to corporate#and maybe they’ll actually let us hold off and have this service do what it does best#esp considering she’s going to be in the housing system so it’s state-guaranteed rent for a year if they keep her#I just. it’s 1 pm and I’m so emotionally exhausted and reeling#why is life this fucking hard lol
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Ok but you have to include the full clip though
The guys name is Paul Parker and he’s literally my hero
youtube
The clip is funny ofc, he literally tells sco mo to square up, but it’s also heartbreaking to see how run down and exhausted he is- how all our volunteers were- during black summer. My parents are both full time rfs members and I’m nearly of age to become an offical member myself, and I can’t begin to describe how run ragged they are every bush fire season, let alone 2019-20. My dad’s birthday was just a few days ago and while we were sitting in our living room cutting the pavlova he was still on call with the radios by his side. Our emergency service workers- the rfs, the ses, paramedics and support services and so many more- are overworked and underpaid and constantly let down by our government, and good old Scotty from marketing is a prime fucking example.
Fuck Scott Morrison, support your local brigades.
I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.
December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.
Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:
The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.
At which point all hell broke loose.
Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.
After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.
Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.
Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.
Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.
Which was a big mistake.
Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.
Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.
At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.
So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.
Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.
And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)
#sorry I’m really passionate about this#all the time I sit with and listen to my parents- mostly my mum- talk about how they’re overworked and being fucked over#how her bosses are laying off part timers working communications to ‘open spots for full time workers’ who aren’t there#and how they missed their yearly pay rise at the end of 2020 because corporate just ‘couldn’t afford it’#meanwhile the tops got another pay rise that was literally about the amount she makes in a year#and they apparently upped the pay rise a little the next year but that doesn’t make a fucking difference because it means they’re all#getting less money over the course of their whole CAREERS because it’s supposed to be compounding#and I’m just so sick of everyone being fucked over like this and listening to my mum talk about how tight money is#and I’m lucky for it not to be so tight as to be noticeable- in terms of what we buy for food or the opportunities I get to have as a scout#since we don’t usually just buy things whenever- though around this time of year we’re obviously spending a lot more than usual#but I just know that most people in emergency services#these people doing really dangerous and easily potentially traumatising jobs#are not being adequately cared for and looked after by our government#I’m just so fucking sick of it all the time#the overtime and the years of missing Christmas and birthdays because the people in power won’t listen to the experts warnings#and won’t fund for the proper staffing to keep staff from undue fatigue and stress#and I know it’s harder than them than it is on me- a lot fucking harder#I mean- missing chirstmas day isn’t that big a deal#it’s happened often enough over the years and we always celebrate it on another day anyway who cares about the specifics#and birthdays are fine- a couple presides in the morning before school and work and out for something fun when we have a free day#but I know they feel so guilty for missing these things#because it’s so important to them and they can’t be there#all this stuff is mostly my mum- she’s a shift worker and she has to drive like two hours to get to work everyday and then two hours back#my dad works closer to home and mostly in infrastructure and such so it’s not as demanding for him#but even so he still has so much overtime this time of year#and because of the way he works half the time when he’s not at work he’s on call to respond to incidents#anyway I’m ranting when I should be sleeping#sorry#entirely forgot this was about sco mos incompetence anyway get fucked Scotty#Youtube
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Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.
I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.
I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.
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A blonde walks in a bank to get a loan. “I need to borrow $100 for a month,” she says.
The banker frowns, but takes her information anyway. He runs her credit but can’t find a report. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but in the absence of a credit record, we’ll have to charge 20% interest on the loan, and you’ll need to put up collateral.
“What does that mean?” the blonde says.
“It means,” the banker says, “you’ll have to repay us $120, and you’ll need to give us something more valuable to hold onto until you pay us back.”
“Something more valuable?” The blonde says. “How about my Ferrari?”
The banker nearly snorts his coffee all over his desk, but he prides himself on customer service so he soldiers on. He runs the title on the Ferrari and what do you know, the blonde owns it free and clear. “Okay, he says, “I’ll print out the papers.”
“Just so I understand,” the blonde says, “I give you my Ferrari and you give me a hundred dollars, right? And then in a month, I give you $120 and you give me my Ferrari back?”
“Yes,” the banker says, “that’s the deal.”
She signs the paperwork and hands him the keys. He counts out $100 for her and watches her saunter out the door.
A month to the day later, he’s sitting at his desk when the blonde saunters back in. She hands him $120 and says “I get my car back, right?”
“Yep, he says as he hands her the keys. She turns to go but he stops her. “Miss, I really have to ask, why did you use a $140,000 car as collateral on a $100 loan?”
“Oh!” The blonde says. “I got called out of town unexpectedly on business. How else can I park a Ferrari for a month in Manhattan for only $20?”
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#I know it ain’t much but when my mom says ‘okay so I’m not gonna cook tmrw’ because I’m cooking regularly says a lot#for someone who’s whole life is dedicated to acts of service ESPECIALLY COOKING#mind yall I Cook I clean I pay bills and I take care of myself#she cooks because it gives her purpose and meaning#I don’t want people making assumptions that I don’t provide bc it’s the internet
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Ghost Eater
Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.
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You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.
It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.
Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.
One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.
There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.
The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel. You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.
“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”
If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.
“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”
Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.
“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”
“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”
Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”
“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”
“Katie, be polite—”
“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”
“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”
“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”
“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”
“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.
“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”
“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”
“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”
Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”
“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”
“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”
“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”
If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.
“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”
“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.
“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”
Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”
“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.
“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”
Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.
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“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”
“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”
“No?”
You try to make your voice light. “I see.”
Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”
“You tipped five dollars.”
Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”
Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”
“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”
“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”
“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”
Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”
Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”
“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”
“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”
“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”
“If the court hadn’t mandated—”
“You make twice as much as me—"
“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”
Her parents speak at the same time.
“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"
“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”
“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”
Sarah bristles. “Katie.”
“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”
“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”
“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”
“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.
“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.
“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”
“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”
“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.
“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”
You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.
“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.
“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.
“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”
“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”
“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”
“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”
“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”
Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”
The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.
The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home. The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…
Well.
It’s time to talk to Terry.
Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.
For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.
Something like…pepper?
Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.
“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.
“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.
“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.
“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”
“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”
Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.
“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”
You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”
“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.
You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.
You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?
“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”
“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”
“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”
“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”
Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”
“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”
“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”
“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”
Katie looks doubtful.
Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…
You don’t really want to talk to Terry.
“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.
“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”
“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.
“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.
“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”
“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”
Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”
“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”
“Fuck you,” Terry says.
“Fuck you,” Katie says.
Leroy���s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”
“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.
“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.
“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”
“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.
“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”
“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”
“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”
“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.
You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”
“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”
“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”
“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”
“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.
“Guilty?” Katie asks.
You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”
Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”
“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.
“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”
You eat Terry.
People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.
Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.
Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.
When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.
Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”
You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”
“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”
“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”
“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”
You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”
“They…?”
You smile and don’t answer.
The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off.
“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.
“Message me,” you say.
“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.
“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”
You’re hungry again.
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