#i need my insurance to kick in at my new job so i can see a therapist about this

[milkolya]

i rly been crying every single day bc i miss my mama

[mossygrovenearthebrook]

Rant in tags

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your ���wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[trixree]

he is RISEN baby girl

hello hello! yes i'm alive, just very mentally ill. things are on the up and up and i have mega brainrot right now so i decided to try and get back on the "being a person" horse. you may see i've just posted some poolverine smut to AO3 here.

if you've sent me messages during my year hiatus (especially regarding commissions) I love and appreciate you and will be responding SOON, i PROMISE!

long ramble about where i'm at/life update below the cut.

May of 2023, I graduated with my masters. yaaay woo but also booo because it didn't help me get a job at all! i finally landed a paying gig in September of 2023 after sending out quite literally hundreds of applications. i only had two interviews total and a mountain of auto-rejections to show for it and it took an immense toll on my mental health. It started what was (in hindsight) a year of a prolonged downward spiral.

i already really struggled with self worth and turns out riding the merry-go-round of job hunting rejection cranked my depression up to new heights. for the first time in a long time, i found myself so low as to be entertaining thoughts of suicide. my eating disorder peaked the hardest it has since high school. i had also moved out of my parents house and in with my partner May of 2023 and was readjusting to being out of a traumatic environment. i had panic attacks anytime he came into a room too quietly and surprised me for months. I found myself isolated from most of my friends (partly because of my own communication death-spiral depression paralysis) and also because i moved to a different city than all of them to live with my partner again (0 complaints there, i love the city i live in and love my home with my partner and our bird children. however i miss my fucking friends, and the loneliness compounded the Despair Arc i was having.) My fucking health insurance changed because my previous policy holder retired and i lost some medications for a period of time, stressing my body in bad ways. a really bad spell of migraines compounded things chemically for the worst.

i borrowed some money to return to my therapist and my doc recently upped my antidepressant dose, and I can tell that both of those things but ESPECIALLY that last one there has helped already. My partner, closest friends, and even some coworkers have said I seem much better, too. I'm hopeful about it. Optimistic, even!

i did get a job working for a behavioral health nonprofit that provides outpatient psychiatric services in administration. It pays in fucking sheckles and pennies (nonprofits be like) and psych is a challenging environment to say the least. it was another 6-month fight to hammer out disability accommodations with HR. my body is a machine that consumes paid leave. as any of you that have danced an accommdations dance can probably attest, it sucks so goddamn bad. i had basically round after round of requests for my doctors to fill out paperwork that amounted to "will they get better? Are you sure? Alright, please estimate how often this person will need this accommodation in hours per week." of course it took an immense mental health toll, too. i kick ass at what i do and i do it chronically understaffed but it's really hard to feel secure anywhere when you're constantly missing work due to uncontrollable Body Bad Times (migraine, explosive diarrhea, uncontrollable vomiting, my three horsemen). especially if someone has a grudge, and someone did, which added extra layers of complexity.

i'll be honest, it's good to have something to get out of bed to go do 5/7 days of the week (i was going stir crazy without employment) but i'm running myself ragged and barely making it financially. not only was this body i have NOT built for an 8-5, i have less than 15$ to my name right now to show for it and i keep having to borrow money from my family for medication. but i truly love the people i work with and feel like i get to do good for my community where i'm at, and that's something folks!

speaking of health, i kind of got my gut stuff figured out? not really. but also yes! i don't have a diagnosis of any kind but i have a treatment that's WORKING for the constant nausea i was always blogging about last year. my GI put me on domperidone before meals and oh my god, total fucking game changer. no longer am i burping up half-digested food and walking around with 24/7 debilitating nausea AND my appetite even kicks in when i take the damn pills!!! the only down side is that domperidone is not FDA approved in the USofA because of sudden cardiac failure or what the fuck ever so i have to pay out of pocket for all of it. that's a good 150$ per month on top of all my other medication, so that's a bummer. but god, to have something that works!!! it's been so nice. no sudden heart failure yet, fingers crossed.

i have really bad executive dysfunction when it comes to responding to messages (i currently have 100+ unread text messages from friends and family) but i'm challenging myself to work through my backlog of messages in the coming days, so stay tuned if you've DM'd me in the last year. thank you for thinking of me and i appreciate you endlessly.

as for commissions, my life is just too unpredictable for me to be as consistent with those as i'd wanted to be. as much as having the bonus income was really amazing, i just feel like i'm too flakey and unreliable to deliver on that regularly and that's just a shitty thing to do to someone. (please check your DMs if this describes an interaction we had with me.)

i'm sorry if this decision is disappointing to anyone, but i think i'm going to stick to having a kofi live if folks feel inclined to show appreciation for any fic i post and maybe taking a comm very very rarely, once in a blue moon when circumstances allow. I do want to honor anyone that messaged me about a comm during my year hiatus. Please check your DMs. for my casual reader: none of my current projects on AO3 are abandoned. i've never stopped working on them this past year, even if it has only been in my notes app. i really want to start posting more regularly again. i miss the outlet immensely. I think it's good for me, creatively and for a sense of community. i hope you all understand and thank you. thanks for still being here.

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

[razor-tits]

A very long and over due life update.

So, to start this off I guess I need to back up. Let's start in October. It feels like yesterday but also a lifetime ago. Things were...ok I'd say. Boring, routine, the only shake up was my hormones ran out and my job was changing our insurance, so I had to cancel my follow up appointment for bloodwork and a refill. But then I got some bad news from my parents.

My dad had a heart attack and was in the hospital. He was ok, but he needed surgery. First they thought just a stent, but then decided he needed a triple bypass. I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, but we're kind of distant. I live a few hours away and only see them around the holidays but we talk on the phone weekly. My dad can lean a little on the conservative side but both of them are the absolute salt of the earth. They're done so much to help me and I felt powerless to be able to help. I couldn't leave work and felt like there was nothing I could do.

The next couple weeks were rough, my dad was staying in the hospital, my mom was going back and forth staying with him and taking care of my grandma, who is in her late 80's and has a litany of health issues. On a Friday I finally managed to make the drive home and spend the weekend there. Seeing my dad laid up in a hospital gown tied to machines is something i'll never forget. He could get up and move and acted like he was ok. But he's one of those guys you meet and you think he's invincible. The kind of guy that put a new roof on our house with a broken finger and can't turn away a stray animal at the door. Some family members I hadn't seen in a long time came and went over the weekend. Thoughts of our own mortality set in and I realize this could be the last time I see any of them.

I've lost people before. Some of them suddenly and unexpectedly. Others who's death was almost a sigh of relief after fighting for so long. I never got to say goodbye when my friend died and I hope he knows how much he meant to me. I don't want to feel that again, ever.

The day of surgery came. He was in the OR for 3 hours but it felt like an eternity and a second at the same time. A few hours after that my mom and I were able to see him. He was extubated already, which was a good sign. But he was on heavy medication, incoherent, coming in and out of sleep. But he knew I was there and that's all that mattered.

I had to leave and make my way back to my parents to get my dog, and then make the 2 hour drive back to Ohio and go back to work in the morning. At this point I knew my dad would be ok, he just had to get through recovery. But now thoughts of my own health were worrying me. I'm not in the best shape, I don't exercise or work out. I've already had surgery to fix stomach problems. Everyone on my dad's side has heart problems, and everyone on my mom's side has cancer and diabetes. There's not much I do to prevent any of that. I'm in my 30's and I feel it, maybe more than I should.

Over the next couple months my mental health continues to fall. I had a birthday and spent it sick, as I always seem to do. It's always a rough time of year for me. Seasonal depression kicks in, I get older, and another year passes. My dog, my best friend, the reason I kept myself alive, is getting old. I see it more and more every day and it breaks my heart.

The holidays came and went. I saw my grandma for the first time in a few years. Always wondering if it will be the last. Despite that, this year I never felt less in the holiday spirit. I used to love this time of year, now I desperately try to enjoy it, but part of me just wants it to be over. The best part seems to be a few days off work.

At this point it should be noted I have not restarted hormones. My identity has always been more in flux than i've let on, and maybe that needs to be it's own post, but I don't know if I want to start again or not. I don't know what I want, I don't know what my goals are. I don't know who i am. Beyond basic hygiene, I really don't even feel like taking care of myself most days. I pretty much always feel melancholic. I'm not angry, I don't get excited, I don't have much joy. My sex drive is non existent and I have no desire to do...well, anything.

New year's comes and I honestly couldn't care. It feels like another day. My gf and I go out and have an Ok time. I'm just so tired all the time it's hard for me to go out and enjoy myself like I used to.

And then, a couple days ago my landlord calls. We have to move out. Not sure when, but probably soon. I'm heartbroken and panicking over it. We absolutely love our house. We've only been here about a year and a half but it's been wonderful. It has plenty of room, privacy, it's quiet. We can leave our doors unlocked and packages aren't stolen off our porch. We're allowed both of our dogs and all 3 of our cats with no issues. We've invested so much time and money here. My gf is close with the owners and their children, who were the previous tenants. We even thought about trying to buy this house off of them when their other kid moves out of the downstairs apartment. And it's affordable. Anything else like what we have now will cost double and we can't afford that.

Our last apartment was tiny, cramped, dark and ran by an awful property investment company. And now we have to deal with that again. If we can even find a place where we can take 5 animals. We can hide 2 of the cats, but not all of them. We're in no position to buy nor do we have the time to go through the process. My gf said we may have to find 2 different apartments and live separately for a while. Just the thought of that brings me to tears. I can't live without her, I can't live without our pets. We're a family. I don't know what to do.

Since I got the phone call I've done nothing but panic, contact rental agencies and weigh my options. None of them are good. Best case scenario is we move in a smaller, worse place, paying more rent.

Nothing is going right for me. I know this isn't insurmountable and nothing that people haven't gone through before. But...god damn I need a break and I can't get one.

[acowardinmordor]

I have mentioned this a couple times in a couple of ways, but I need to talk it out. It's my real life stuff, so scroll on if you're only following for the Stranger Things stuff. It's long, and I'm under NDAs, so its delightfully vague.

Real life is currently Real rough.

I am very susceptible to the desire to be the superhero. For good or ill, it's something I am capable of in my job. It's sort of my specialty. I get brought in on disaster jobs to land the plane. Or I get brought in because they know they need to run a skeleton team, and I am able to wear a lot of hats. Yeah, my rate is high, but I can cover several roles on my own. Not permanently, and not at full capacity, but if you need part of an artist and part of a modeller and part of a td and part of a fab designer and part of a construction and vendor manager, I can do all that. It's a weird skill set. When I have left projects midway through it takes multiple people to replace me. One time it took four.

I do anything I can, legitimately, to get what I know into other people's brains. I do not like single points of failure, either in rigging or in design. One person should not be the hinge for a project's success.

Just. look. I have been told directly, by industry legends who I deeply respect, that I'm exceptional. This is why I am susceptible to superhero dreams.

My current project is a shit show. Hand to god, if someone lit the building on fire, we'd be in better shape because insurance would kick in and we'd get time and money back to fix this mess. If it can go wrong, it has gone wrong. We were supposed to open four months ago. We are crossing our fingers to open before september. Every permit has had issues. Every product I order has had a turnaround issue, a sudden price spike, a stock issue, or a usability issue. We are massively over budget.

In theory my job title is Lead Design. In practice, my job is Get It Open.

That is not unique in my life. Sure, this is more disaster than usual, but this is my specialty.

The problem is that the company might not survive if we push to september. Like. Peoples income is hinging on me pulling some miracles. Not just the owners, though they'd be fucked. Artists and assistants and interns.

Yes, I could lower my standards and let this be meh.

But that is anathema to me. I have had the next chapter of FtB for months, but its still not right, so I keep retouching it and trying to make it good enough for my standards. This is not a place I compromise. I don't put my name on projects I won't stand by. And I'm in too deep. If I have to work 7 for the next two months, I will. I'll balance it with my body's tendency to try to kill me, but I don't let my projects fail.

It's so bad the owner dips out early and shuts down when told about whatever new bullshit we've encountered. So I've just stopped telling him. If it doesn't need his input to correct, he doesn't need to know its happening. He gets looped in as a 'hey we had an issue, its corrected, we'll be back on schedule in X days, which fits in schedule'

Again, this is my job. I am very good at it. I am paid well.

The pat that is making me insane is that about half the problems are things that I could have prevented if I'd realized earlier no one else was looking for them. Its stuff that shouldn't be my job, but I know enough to see the imminent issue, and bring in someone to prevent it. The other half are things that I specifically, explicitly pointed out as disasters in waiting, and was outright told that I was overreacting or that the thing I was asking for was unnecessary and a waste of time.

I don't believe in saying I told you so. Either they already know, or they won't listen if I say it. It's also crass. Its frustrating as fuck though. We have to rebuild stuff and redo stuff bc errors got missed. those errors would have been caught in a fab design review. I was treated like I was crazy when I asked for those drawings six months ago. We're getting fucked by it now.

So. Yeah, Everyday I ride my bike to the office -- cause yeah, I started commuting by bike which is great but also sweaty -- and my brain gives me all sorts of fabulous ideas and inspiration to write. And then work all day and suffer. And then ride home and am deluged by inspiration while riding. Then I get home and all the energy saps out of my pores and it takes hours before my brain has shifted gears enough to properly write. but then its past 9, on good days, and past 11 on bad days. Lately, its all been bad days.

Oh, and I'm having many more seizures than usual, my AC is crap so my house was over 90 last weekend, I angered my leg on my bike because I had to slam on the brakes, politics is Like That, and the guy I've had a crush on is being inexplicable.

So.

It's a very strange blend of infuriating, fulfilling, exhausting, and anxiety inducing.

I miss writing.

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Shrek 2

So I haven't seen this movie in years and having just rewatched it, I can safely say, this movie invented comedy. Hands down.

Seriously though, what can be said about Shrek 2 that hasn't already been said? It's iconic, in every sense of the word, maybe even more of a meme factory than the original Shrek was. And yet even aside from being one of the funniest animated movies ever made (more on that in a bit), it's also just a really good and compelling story that hits all the right spots and really continues building on this world and these characters in an excellent way.

We kick off right after the first movie, with Shrek and Fiona freshly married and heading to Far Far Away to meet Fiona's parents. Throw in some family tension, the deviously delighful (milf) that is Fairy Godmother and her little bitch boy of a son Prince Charming, the ever debonaire Puss in Boots, and you have a movie that's an all time hood classic.

The jokes in this are so raw and so damn funny. Like the union bit and the police brutality joke? This damn movie was ahead of its time oh my god. Even outside of the humor though, the story itself is really good and does a great job helping you connect even more with the characters than the first movie did. Shrek especially, I feel like this one develops him even more, and you get to see just what lengths he'd go to for Fiona. It's honestly really sweet (and human Shrek is jacked wtf).

The rest of the cast is also great. Fiona may not get as much screentime here, but she's still a lot of fun. Donkey is a bit less annoying here than he was in the first movie, and the new additions like Puss in Boots are superb, there's a reason they gave that crazy lil cat his own franchise ya'll.

You also get a pretty interesting redemption arc for Fiona's dad, King Harold, who I just realized is the frog prince??? Like am I stupid or something for never knowing that before now??? Damn. Fairy Godmother is a FANTASTIC villain who gets to headline what may be one of the most epic climaxes in any animated ever (seriously, the I Need a Hero scene is pure HYPE). Speaking of music, the soundtrack is great just like the last movie's, with I Need a Hero being the highlight because oh my god ya'll, she slays it.

The animation definately got a bit more tuned up for this one too. The character models are much stronger and less... plasticy, I suppose is the right word, and the way they move is much more natural and fluid. The world itself is also given a lot more personality. I love how Far Far Away is basically just LA. That's such a fun little inside joke I never got as a kid.

As a whole, Shrek 2 is a fantastic movie. There's this trend we're gonna notice with Dreamworks trilogies where the first movie is great, the second movie is the best thing ever, and the third movie is either still really great (HTTYD3 and Kung Fu Panda 3) or the most confusing, what the fuck happened here thing ever (Shrek the Third). But we'll get to those when we get to those. Just... pray for me ya'll. Cause I gotta watch Shark Tale next. Lord have mercy on my soul.

Overall Rating: 9/10

Verdict: Get some dental insurance

Previous Review (Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas)

Next Review (Shark Tale)

[xombigirl]

I started a new job last week and it's amazing and I love it but because of adjusting pay schedules I will not have the $231.37 required to keep my car insurance active. Which I kind of need so I can continue driving to my new awesome job.

As you can see I have to pay it by the 25th and I will not get a full paycheck before that. If anyone can kick some funds my way that would be amazing.

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/xombigirl

PayPal: cbkerr87@gmail.com

Venmo: xombigirl

[heavenseed76]

I don’t have many mutuals here but I want to put it out there cuz I need all the kittens boiled and good vibes and prayers I can get.

In 2015 I had a preemie at 28 weeks. On her first birthday in 2016 I found a lump in my breast. Triple negative breast cancer, stage 2. I did three types of chemo, radiation for a month and planned a double mastectomy. By the time I could get the surgery (delayed due to being diagnosed with Hashimotos Disease), I had a toddler and my husband was unemployed. I got a lumpectomy instead. Biggest mistake of my life.

Fast forward to April 2023. I am given a clean bill of health and am told I am cured.

Fast forward again to this September and I have a prestigious job with amazing pay. I left something rock solid for a chance at starting something amazing. It will take until November 1st for insurance to kick in and I find another lump.

PET scan, biopsy, port placement, biopsy on the suspicious legion in my hip on PET scan.

Stage 4 breast cancer. Terminal. Spread to my hip.

Stress, sadness, overwork because my new job are just not ready and open anyway. I leave and go back to old job for a well-paying position doing something different. My boss ends up getting something new, so now I’m the Director of Nursing for a whole ass nursing home!

But I have Stage 4 breast cancer. Oral meds o ly worked on one of my tumors. I started chemo today and they want to do radiation on my hip. I have three amazing, amazing kids: 24, 17 & almost 9. They still need their mom. I am only 47. That is not old by any stretch of the imagination. I want to finish my novel, turn it into a screenplay and get it made into a movie. I have my Oscars speech prepared. My parents just retired and I am their only. I just bought a house two years ago. I need a new car.

I want to crawl into bed and never leave it. I don’t know what to do. I want to continue living and writing and seeing my kids grow up. I’m not strong. I just don’t have any other choice.

A hug from this man might help.

[rabidrabbit1975]

I need help

Hey everyone, I would like to make a request of you. I created a spotfund account to try and raise some money to finish remodeling my house. I wrote part of my story on the page, but here is more of the story.

I'm having financial troubles, (who isn't right?), but I thought if I put my story out here, folks would read it and hopefully donate to my cause. I'll tell you about my life from about six years ago to now so you'll have an idea of what happened.

I was happily married, had a nice home, had a good job, you know, the American dream. Then my now ex-wife and I had marital problems and we decided to separate to see if that would help. Things only began to slide downhill from there, losing the extra income put me in a bind and I ended up selling my house to get out of the mortgage, which was behind. I didn't even break even on selling it. I moved into my ex's grandparents home, they had both passed on and the house was empty so my ex's dad said I could move into it. While living there, I tried hard to get my ex to work it out and try to reconcile, but it wasn't meant to be. On August 30th, 2018, I suffered a pulmonary embolism that nearly ended my life. I spent a few days in intensive care, then was released to go home. I spent the next two months at my folks' home, then was released to return to work. After two months, I was fired from my job after fifteen years there, (talk about a kick in the groin). I tried to find a new job, but things continued their downhill slide. My ex informed me that she had filed for divorce, then informed me that I was required to move out of the house, okay, no problem. I moved back in with my folks as I couldn't afford to live on my own. My folks' neighbor had allowed me to use her father in law's house as storage after he passed away. I was able to secure a job, then my neighbor offered to sell me the house. I turned in part of an i.r.a. account to purchase the house, this created a tax penalty because I'm not 59 and a half yet. I had some existing debts from before, then used a credit card like a madman, knowing it would be hard to repay if I didn't slow down using it. Fast forward to now, I'm still paying the credit card debt, the tax penalty, a car payment, (my old truck gave out on me), medical bills, insurance, etc. I would like to invite you to check out my spotfund page and hopefully make a donation, then pass it on to your friends and they hopefully donate, then pass it on, etc. Any amount, (no matter how small), you choose to donate will be greatly appreciated and will go toward reducing my debts so I can finish remodeling my home. For what it's worth, my dad will appreciate it also, he will be staying with me some, he is a veteran of the US Army and I love and respect him so much. My dad passed away on Friday, October 4th, 2024 at 9:45pm EST. He was a strong, kind, loving and generous man, always smiling, loved to read and go fishing. He will be sorely missed, he was the other half of the foundation of my family. We could definitely use any donations to my spotfund, they would be very much appreciated.

Here is the link to the spotfund page: http://spot.fund/thd7nsc

Again, thank you in advance and many blessings to you!

[gutwrenchflowerbomb]

This post is just me sort of rambling about the thoughts surrounding my new job so feel free to scroll past.

New workspace. This machine was installed a few weeks ago and a few of use were trained in it but I am the primary operator. They haven’t installed my work table yet so I’ve been using that cart. I’m two months into the drastic change in careers and it’s been strange - not just the obvious difference in what I’m actually doing but the shift as well. I don’t have weird start and ends times that change daily. But my set shift begins at 5am, meaning that I’m waking up at 3:30am. That’s the middle of the witching hour. I keep expecting to sit up and see some kind of demon ghost thing looking shocked like “the fuck you doing awake?”

But I’m less stressed, I think. I miss my clients dearly but now I no longer have to be responsible for the lives of 12 people. I can actually focus on myself. And the fact that I can do this job while wearing headphones has allowed me to catch up on podcasts and shit I’d long abandoned due to lack of time/energy. I’ve even made it a goal to listen to at least one new album a day from an artist I like but only know a song or two. I have 10 hours a day to fill so it’s not that hard to do. (I’m open to suggestions btw so if you have a fav band/album you think more people should hear, let me know! I don’t really *hate* any genre, except 90% of the new bro country shit)

My medical insurance kicks in on July 1st, so I can finally go to the doctor and dentist. They’ve had some overtime available that I’ve taken advantage of, and will continue to do so as long as it’s there. Mostly because I need all the money I can get and also - I don’t mind the work. It feels good to be physically doing stuff. I’m not like, building houses or anything but there I’m for sure getting more movement than I was previously. The ONLY downside so far of this job is that it’s very hard to regulate the temperature. I’ve had to buy my own fan to bring in and honestly I’m about to get a second one so I can have it blowing on my from both sides. Ya girl STAYS hot.

I’ve been staying with my mom and it’s been rough. We don’t have the most loving relationship, she gets on my goddamn nerves but I try not to get to frustrated with her because it will only make things worse. Maybe one day I’ll write some essays about it, as my upbringing with her was anything but “normal” but I digress.

The most challenging thing has been the lack of *silence* in the house. Before, I had my roommates. Ut they were hardly home when I was and then they had their room upstairs. We never really got in each others space. Here, that’s not possible. I’m literally sleeping on a twin bed that’s been set up in the dining room since it’s a tiny 750sq ft one bedroom house. And my mom nor Mo work, so they NEVER LEAVE. And neither of them have much variety in the food they eat so I’ve had to adapt to eating much of the same bland poor southern shit I grew up with. Which is good occasionally but man. I can’t wait to have my own kitchen again and cook some Indian food. Or Mediterranean.

My goal is to have my own place by the first of August. Thats plenty of time to have the money for the first few months plus deposit. The biggest issue is not knowing what’s gonna be on the market. Rent, while not nearly as high as places like Chicago and Austin and huge cities like that, it’s still unreasonable for a single income person. Especially when that income is just under 40k a year, pre tax.

Anyway, my hope is that once I get moved into my own place I can finally have the energy and focus to do more creative shit. I have TONS of ideas written down but with no space to do any of them, it’s been depressing. I’ve got buttons and magnets and silly shit all in my big ass head. And not all of it is wrestling related.

Alright I’m gonna stop now. But yeah if anyone read all this I apologize haha. It’s not my usual shit of making jokes about AEW and posting too many pics of Chuck Taylor and Orange Cassidy.

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 6: Two Pones walk into a bar and end up at the Black Market

When Carmen caught up with Marehem, he was pressing buttons on an old timey cigarette vending machine, seeing if there were any left. He jostles it a moment as she stammers gingerly, “H-Heeey. Um. L-Look, I’m sorry. I know how it looks and I realize I was in the wrong back there. I wasn’t in my right mind. I did get most of the information I needed to possibly figure out the next step-“ her eyes went wide as he glared at her darkly and effortlessly tore open the machine like a cardboard pasta box with his tentacles, metal screeching and creaking. He procured about two packs, leaving the menthols. She cleared her throat and tried to speak, but he continued to stare at her, noisily crinkling the wrapper open and placing the other pack in his jacket pocket, “As I was saying.. I could still use your help. And I could still help you. We can head to the medical examiner office or something next if you want. How does that sound?” He stalks close to her enough to make her back up against a shadowed wall, she shakily hold out her hand “D-deal?” He grips hers tightly enough she yelped out, he leaned close to her ear and growled, “If I even catch you with that fucking drug again, the deal is off and I will devour your bones in the most painful way and will keep you alive enough to watch.” She steeled herself and gulped, “Fair. But if you work for me, there will be no more killing or slaughter while on my jobs. Got it? Slight dismemberment, ok, but not life threatening.” He leans back still holding her hand, snarling, “What? Thats like limiting me to breaking fingers! Fuck off.” She frowned at him, squeezing his hand this time, “If you dont, I walk away with the closest lead you have on getting the closure you want.” He growls in frustration and slams his fist against the wall by her head.

Carmen yelped as they both fall through the shadow, she falls onto wet asphalt as he casually strides towards a bar across the city street, his wings and tentacles tucked back in unseen. Her hat had fallen beside her as she got up, wiping off the dirt and wetness, she picked up her hat and hurried to follow him, rolling it up and storing it in her pack. M was already at the bar, shooting back a couple shots as she peeked into the door. She sat next to him and ordered a glass of moscato. “I didn’t think you were a shots kind of guy.” She quipped, sipping her wine. “I ain’t. This shits water to me. I’d like to think it does somethin but it never does.” He gruffly slams down the shotglass upside down. “So you can’t get drunk? Are all changelings like that?-ow!” He shushed her and kicked her leg. He looked her in the eye and showed he had normal looking bright green eyes and the lack of any horn or antler at all. Even his tail was looking like a short tuft of orange. His clothes had changed to more of a pale navy business suit. He still had the bandages, she noticed. “You got yourself a ladyfriend finally, M?” The bartender chuckled, polishing a glass with a towel. “Neh, just the bro’s ball and chain. You know, family affairs.” He knocked back another shot, as Carmen waved shyly. Bartender looked at her, “You look familiar, have you been on the news?” She laughed nervously, “Me? Psh! No. I..just got back from a costume party, villain themed! I’m just a little housewife, taking care of two little youngsters. They.. are with a foalsitter right now.” The bartender nodded, “Yeah, that alone time is pretty scarce with kids. Let me know if you need a refill.” She smiled and sipped more wine. She leans closer to M, “They know you here?” He swishes a shotglass a moment, “Yeah the guys from the office come here after work, I moonlight as an insurance agent for AllStable, but to be honest, I’m the breadwinner. I make them the most profit by making accidents happen. Hence all the plasters.” He motions to his face. “They don’t ask how I do it, and I don’t disclose trade secrets to them. But it helps keep cash in my pocket because without a body, neither of us can claim fuckin any inheritance from Wally.” She stops mid sip, “They what? Can they do that? Not that I’m interested in it but I still have bills to pay.” M shakes his head. “Not with Wally’s will. Theres an airtight clause where a body needs to be produced in order for the will to be released. Its a Wander Society thing. And your bills got covered automatically when they took you away. You literally have nothing in your name anymore. That will and the law screwed us both over.” Her shoulder sank a little as she finishes her glass, ordering another. She truly didnt care about the money but the fact she had lost their home and any other possessions they owned. She didn’t even get to keep her wallet with the family pictures inside. “Wally didnt send you any pictures of us, did he?” M raised an eyebrow, “Actually he sent several. Literal perfect dad bragging about his family. Why?” Carmen thanked the bartender for the refill and traced her finger along the top. “I don’t have any photos of them anymore. I need to get a new phone first but if you’d be so kind as to share those pictures with me, I’d be eternally grateful.” He sighed and rummaged through his pockets for his phone with a cracked screen. He pulled up the pictures and slid the phone over the bartop to her. “Here, we’ll get you a phone in the mornin. But at least you can go through the pictures.” She picks up the phone and chuckles, tears welling up in her eyes. For a few moments it felt like everything was how it was before, reliving every moment she saw captured. She sniffled and closed the screen, she set the phone down and took her glasses off to wipe her eyes. “Thank you, Marehem. I really needed that.” He sighed and wrapped an arm around her quivering shoulders. “No prob. As insufferable as he was to me, I miss him too.”

He slapped down a couple bills on the counter and stood up, finishing the last shot and the last bit of her wine. “Come on, we need to get shit done tomorrow and we need some shut-eye.”

They exit the bar and start walking down the sidewalk, for a while they were both silent. “M, if you’re a changeling, where are your…holes? If you don’t mind me asking.” M chuckled and pushed up a sleeve, showing the changeling holes and fills them in again making his arm look whole. “They’re there, I just don’t like the look of them. Too much debris gets in them. So I got rid of them.” She adjusts her pack and puts her hands in her pants pockets. “Did Wally look like you without his Earth pony guise?” He scoffed, “Naw, he looked like that Thorax guy, only pastel blues and greens.” He flipped through his phone and pulled up some really old looking photos, showing Carmen. “Oh wow, he looks so different.” He shrugged, putting his phone away, “He never liked it. Thats why he shifted to the Earth pony shape. He felt more like himself like that.” She nodded, “I can see that, I’m glad I knew him as the form he felt more comfortable in.” They fell silent once again as they walked.

There was some muffled pulsing music coming from an upcoming candy shop and Carmen perked up. “Oh hey, Its the Sweet Spot. I know this place. My sister owns it.” M grimaces, “The candy store? Ugh. Too much sugar, makes my teeth hurt from here.” She playfully punches his arm, “No, she owns the candy shop during the day, but the rave club is open right now. Plus if she’s there tonight, we can ask her for a new phone, she has special ones that are undetectable by law enforcement… she runs a black market enterprise behind the rave club. I say check it out. I could get most of my personal documents copied too.”

They head in and asked the bouncer for entry, Carmen shifted her hip and flashed her cutiemark. The bouncer opened the rope for them and the descended down to the basement which opened up to a huge room with neon lasers, smoke machines and booming electro music, filled with all sorts of beings dancing and enjoying themselves. There was a short bright teal pony with neon pink, purple and yellow cyberdreads, dressed in an orange and black cyber punk skirt complete with spiked goggles and gasmask, gloves, fuzzy leg-warmers and glow bracelets adorned her limbs. As they approached, the short mare squealed in delight and ran over, hugging Carmen with the biggest bearhug the little pony could muster.

“Oh my stars!! Bella!! You came back! Ohmahgah, you need to tell me where you went!! Wait! Not here, lets go to a booth!” The hyperactive mare pulled them over to a much quieter corner of the club. “Bella?” M raised an eyebrow. “Its part of my middle name, Isabella. She’s the only one to call me that other than if I make reservations incognito.” Carmen explained. The cyberpunk mare reached for Carmen hands excitedly, “Bella I was so worried when I saw the news of the museum! And then the social medias were all over your arrest! I’m glad to see you havent changed! No one can hold you down, you’re like a slippery eel!” Carmen chuckled, “Well thats why I’m here. Sugar, Wally’s gone and I need my papers and a new phone. I need to go back to before I hung up my hat.” The mare, Sugar Pop, gasped, “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry, he was so good for you, I cant believe it. Was he one of the missing from the fire?? Oh gosh.. he was such a nice fella.. total opposite of tall dark and buggy over here. Whats your name?”

M, who had not changed from his earth pony shape at all, looked at her with surprise, “Wha-me?” Sugar crossed her arms, “No, the teddy bear behind you. Yes you! You’re the only changeling in the booth here. Whats ya name?” M let slip his eye shift and growled, “First of all, how did you-“ He stopped mid sentence when he heard the loud clacking sound of an aerosol can being shaken up. Sugar had a rather large can of bug spray in her hand, not looking amused. “Marehem. Brother of Wally.” He watched her put away the can as he answered. “Now, was that so hard? Your brother would have been the first to introduce himself. Such a charmer! You could’ve learned a lot from him.” She called over one of the waiters and whispered something to him. “Your papers and phone will be up shortly, as always its on the house!”

The two mares spent the next ten minutes catching up on what happened after the fire. M sulked and browsed on his phone in a bored manner. Soon a waiter came around with a tray with a big yellow document envelope, a new unopened cellphone and a small sleek metal case. Sugar Pop took these from the tray and placed them on the table, sliding each over one at a time. “Alright, here’s your papers, phone and a gift from me. Two matching mini pistols, copper and gold inlay, I call these the pennies, so if you ever need to, you can give someone your two cents.. if you catch my drift.” She opens the case to show off a small pair of beautiful and shiny pistols with a line of twelve bullets lined in the case. Carmen smiled and gave a small uneasy face, gingerly closing the case and pushing it back. “I can’t accept this, I’m not a gun person. They make me very uneasy.” Sugar Pop shushes her and pushes it back to Carmen, “Bella, just take the guns. You dont have to use them. Just keep them in a safe or lockbox. Its for a little backup if nothing else. I need you to be safe.” Carmen sighs, nodding her head towards M, “Technically I have back-up. He has a penchant for dismemberment.” M looks up, “I’m what now?” Sugar Pop scoffs, “And if he’s out takin a piss and leaves you alone, then what? You need a back up. Trust me. The world isnt like it used to be back in your big heisting days. You gotta be more careful.”

Carmen rolls her eyes, “You’re like Ma, I get it. I promise I’ll be safe. If you want, I’ll do tiny heists like no returning library books.” Sugar Pop nodded, “Those fees can get pretty pricey.. but no, that isnt any fun! Go out, live a little!! You got a chance to do it again! You did get the kids set up at a safe house, right?”

Carmen nodded, “Yes, I made sure that Adora is being looked after by the Warehouse Curators and Blendin is being looked after by the Great Library. Those are the safest places I know where they can grow up and learn the right things.” M tilts his head, “You put them there? I mean, I never took them as the babysitter types.” Carmen shrugged, “They owed us a favor. And Wally and I agreed that if need be, that would be the favor we would request. No conditions nor questions asked. I promised I would come back for them.” Her sister nodded, “As any parent would. But right now you can afford to take some time for yourself. For a thief, you aren’t very selfish of your own self care.” Carmen looked at Marehem and they both shrugged, “I suppose we can postpone plans for a little bit, get things back up and running. Say.. you don’t happen to have any spare beachfront properties, do you?”

The neon raverpunk mare smiled.

[onyourstageleft]

hello friends! I won't be making a GoFundMe for this, since I thankfully don't have to choose between buying groceries & getting vet care for my cat Peggy, but things are a lil *tight* bc of a series of unfortunate financial events (which I will list below the cut for those interested) so if anyone has a few bucks to spare and wants to help me offset the $485 mysterious lump removal surgery my lil baby is getting on Tuesday, I would greatly appreciate it

Cashâpp: $jessiedube (my cat Peggy Sue is my profile pic/name is Jess Bee)

Venmô: jessie_dube (Peggy is in the profile pic w/ me)

this is Peggy <3

heyoo if you wanna hear the money shit that's plagued us you are in the correct place. let us begin our chronicle in August, when I made the grand decision to go back to college for a school media specialist certification. I am enjoying it v much and do not regret it at all, but it did mean that I left my decently paying but incredibly toxic retail job and went back to getting paid beans as an adjunct professor at a community college + had to pay 3k in tuition

next Luna, my loveable but temperamental 2011 Ford Fiesta, started having Problems™️, including but not limited to: water pump replacement (which for some fuckall reason on my car requires cutting & replacing the timing belt?? which of course means it cost more), downstream oxygen sensor replacement, and a new set of front tires bc those bitches were BALD (you could literally see the steel coming out of the side). to add fuel to the fire of my ongoing anxieties, her check engine light comes on and off every few days, it's a perpetual game of chicken. when I was able to catch it on and get it checked she reported a catalytic system issue, which has in the past been cured by a bottle of cataclean, so of course she needed that too. all of which adds up to the tune of about 1.5k (thankfully she's paid off but like she's only worth 2.5k so if she keeps having issues i am SOL)

during all of the back and forth with Luna, my partner has been having dental appointments for ongoing teeth issues. we were under a time crunch to get those taken care of since she turned 26 in October, and in the great land of America that means she was kicked off of her dad's insurance on Halloween. so, after a couple appointments that included tooth extraction and the making of a denture set in exchange for CareCredit agreements, we're in 2.1k of medical debt for that (she also is now without insurance so that's fun)

and, the cherry on top and the thing that has pushed me to appeal to the Internet, a few weeks ago we found two mysterious lumps on my cat Peggy Sue's hip, which are scheduled to be removed and sent off to a lab on Tuesday. I won't retell the whole story here, but you can check the "Peggy Sue" tag on my blog for a few more in depth posts on the situation. overall her care adds up to around $900, $485 of that which is the Tuesday surgery that I'm driving to another state for (my vet was crazy expensive so I'm going to a friend's recommendation)

anyway, I know that I'm lucky to even be able to cover all of these via savings and credit cards without it threatening my food/housing, but things are, understandably, a bit tight. I hate asking for help for myself, but if anyone wants to help take care of my cat, I would greatly appreciate it

or, if you prefer to buy things, I will be listing some collectable Barbies on my eBay in the next week or so, if you're interested in that I can send you my eBay page

pic of Peggy for getting this far, thank you <3

[againstme]

i think i'm kind of at a point now where i'm sick of being institutionalized, no matter how cushy of a situation this is.

i think i tend to have this sort of impostor syndrome about it, a back and forth of "oh, well at least i'm not in the psych ward", "at least i get to go outside", to just wishing that i could go home.

and i think both of these things can exist at the same time.

i'm grateful that i haven't been in the psych ward since november instead of where i am. and i am glad i get to go outside. i do like that there's a deck at this house, where i can sit outside and watch the sunrise/sunset, and play my guitar when it's not raining. i'm glad that we get to ride in the van to go to the center where we do group therapy, that there's a courtyard we can sit at in between groups, that i'm able to step outside and get fresh air if i need to.

but at the same time, i want to go home. i don't know where home is. i think my brain is associating "home" with back in santa cruz. at least for now, that's what i think of. it's the place where i've lived in the states the longest, since getting kicked out and flying there from korea when i was freshly 18.

that's what i mean by "home", i guess.

i want to sit in the garage at my friend's family's house. i guess they're my family too, my chosen family. they've been taking care of me since i landed on their doorstep in the middle of august 2019. i had about 300 dollars to my name; that was less than what i started with because i had to pay for my heavy luggage and my flight to san jose from seattle. i can't even remember how i got the money. i think i had saved up some from when i graduated that june.

i didn't have health insurance, i didn't have a bed, i had two suitcases and that was all, basically. i needed an inhaler. i needed a job. someone i knew (a former friend of a friend, that my friend group no longer associates with) introduced me to his mom, who was the manager of a grocery store about a 15 minute walk away. and she got me a job as a cashier.

anyways, the long backstory is something i can get into some other time.

the point is, my family, or at least, what i consider my family, is there. my friends are there. they're the first friend group larger than like 4 people who probably didn't even like me that i've ever had in my life. and they still enjoy having me around, though i tend to go back and forth on believing that.

so, i want to go home. i want to hug my friends, and be with my family. i want to stay up late watching episodes of community or new girl that we've all seen a dozen times, still laughing like it's our first time seeing it.

i want to sit on their kitchen floor, having a mixed drink with cheap vodka and trying to focus my brain while someone goes on a tangent that i can barely follow.

i want to do my obligatory ritual of going into their bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, not even a bit sober, take a selfie, then grip my hands on the sink, staring at my reflection.

this isn't your classic "drunk at a party, stare at yourself in the mirror and think about how your life is falling apart" moment.

this is a moment of joy. of ecstasy, though you'd never take the drug. the alcohol warms your chest, but so does the feeling of connection.

it's also the feeling of safety. of understanding. of caring for another. sitting someone down on the couch when they're too high, giving them a blanket and a pillow. being stupid and not telling your friends you were on acid until hours deep into your trip, startled at first when so many of them said so many variations of "dude, you have to let people know when you're tripping", but later understanding that they just wanted to take care of you. the late nights at one of their parties where you and a friend snuck out to the backyard table, sharing a joint and talking about music, a sliver of light being cast by a warm deck lamp.

catching your friend in your arms as they suddenly pass out after stumbling inside to recover from a fall in the bathroom, shielding them from almost hitting their head on the bathtub. your friend rushing over to help as they came to, hoisting them up and over to the couch. freezing instinctively as they had a seizure, because you had never seen one before, then having your hands out, wanting to cradle them as they had another.

being so lucky to have another friend that's an EMT, coming in and taking them in her car as they both went to the hospital.

having everyone gathered around out on the front porch, solo cups in hand, being forcibly shocked into sobriety, beady eyes looking around at each other.

hearing someone say "anyone need a cigarette?" and hearing a chorus of "yes, thank god," around you. you don't smoke anymore, because it makes you sick, but you did smoke that night. and poured yourself a drink, mostly vodka, with just a splash of ginger beer.

finding yourself staring in the mirror again, white knuckling the sink. looking over at the tile floor, suddenly feeling the weight of your friend's slumped body in your arms as you both fell to the floor. thinking of how they narrowly missed the corner of the bathtub. your heart is still racing.

you think of all of the events that lead you up to being in that moment. of being there to catch them in your arms. of having that gut feeling of "no, i don't think i'm gonna let them go to the bathroom alone." and being grateful you trusted your gut. things could've been way worse. you don't want to think about that.

i think it's situations like those where i feel like, even though it's kind of fucked up, so many pieces had to fall into just the right place in order for that to play out the way that it did.

and it all started with that connection. with that sense of community, that sense of belonging, that feeling of wanting to protect the ones you love. and knowing that you love them in the first place.

i want to be a part of that again.

[luulapants]

In the spirit of the holidays, please enjoy this anti-capitalist protest song about generational disenfranchisement!

Lyrics:

I will not place bets upon my soul And I won't let your money eat me whole Philosophy's no commodity But it can give me what I need And I won't let your money eat me whole

They sent my grandfather to Africa In Italy he lost all of his friends In France he disarmed mines, and it was there he lost his mind They sent him home where he learned to sell insurance

And my grandmother never wanted children But the Catholic church said condoms were a sin By his grace she brought up eight On one salary, and ain't God great? They were poor, but she sure could stretch a chicken

And the nuns were preaching gratitude They'd smack you for your attitude The pope would take their tithes, but would he help keep them alive? When the walls wouldn't close And their baby'd gone cold, I imagine they said, "Eternal life sounds great, but, God, I'd rather not be dead."

You mistake your profits for your prophets You've been building gods out of gold But no matter how you spin it, man Someday you're gonna kick it and I won't let your money eat me whole

My father put himself through law school A seminary dropout on his way He thought Reagan had it right, for he'd worked hard and risen high A wife and son and a house in the suburbs

Well, he worked for the county twenty years Broke his mind working murders and rapes Thought a change could get him right, A different job, a different wife But a change never paid the bills

When his clients couldn't pay, he would not send them away One divorce became two, and now the alimony's due You know he believed in the American dream Til one day he looked around, said, "I've been waiting thirty years, Hey, man, this shit ain't trickling down!"

There's brokers drinking Kool-Aid with their cocaine Caught in a Dow-Jonestown massacre They bet the house and the house did call America's gonna lose it all But we won't let your money eat us whole I came of age to the Great Recession Graduated to a call of "Yes we can!" They said, "Kid, your time is here. A change is coming, don't you fear. Just give us a few years to end this war."

America the Beautiful, where are ya? There's a racist mob knocking down your door Too afraid to spook the sponsors, so the kids are cannon-fodder As long as they keep buying those new phones

They've cried wolf too many times, and we can see right through their lies Is that a congress or a board room? Fuck 'em! They'll do nothing for you And people today Don't expect to be saved They scream battle cries:

"Eat the rich, they're full of protein." "Save the planet - God, it's smoking." "You know money's only paper." "Founding Fathers all are slavers." "Join a union." "Plant a tree." "Black Lives Matter." "Love is free!"

We've been eking change from our dollars Trying to find someone who'll take care of the fold But leaders never lead nowhere We must go hand in hand and do our share We will not let your money eat us whole

No, leaders never lead nowhere We must go hand in hand and do our share A revolution's coming, don't you know? And we won't let your money eat us whole A revolution's coming, don't you know? And we won't let your money eat us whole