#id have to leave a job ive only been at for 2 months

[falloutgirlboy]

hmv near me is hiring its 10 hours and only seasonal and idk how much it pays compared to my job now but houghhhhhhhhh the circles......

[vanikey]

im having Thoughts abt my living situation (past, present, and future) and im gonna ramble abt it on tumblr bc this blog is my diary

ive Officially lived on my own since april 2023 and i love it so much !!!!!! (tho if rent goes up any more and my job continues to have shit pay i may not get to anymore but anywayssss...) growing up i always wanted to live on my own but as i aged i grew fearful i wouldnt be able to bc of lack of independence emotionally, physically, and financially but i did it and i was worried id end up hating it or be lonely but no it fucks severely

that being said i loved living in my childhood home but couldve done with less constant people time LOL (or just more freedom ig) and then in college i lived with friends the whole time and that was a bit rocky for a while but the last few years (in the attic apartment) were amazing and i was sad to leave but at the same time i knew i had to if i wanted to eventually get my own place and i also had some fears abt my roommate (he hates living alone absolutely hates it and i loved living with him and hes said repeatedly he loved living with me but a part of me always wonders if thats bc it was me or if anyone wouldve done? like any friend/person that would spend time with him idk) (if my friend is reading this no youre not) (and it worked out anyway bc he moved states like a year or so after we stopped living together so i wouldve had to leave the attic apartment anyway lol) then i lived with my parents again and eventually found a job i lowkey hate but am usually neutral abt and got my own place and yeah!!

the Thing is one of my sisters and i always talked abt our dream houses and one day she merged it into us living together and also me helping her whenever she decides to have a kid (i offered to if we would be living together)(despite me not being comfortable with kids really idk i have 6 nieces/nephews aged 8 and under but i still dont know how to interact with them and am scared of babies and wont even hold them if theyre less than 6 months and even then it makes me so nervous) ANYWAYS i promised her id help her (even if its just like cleaning around the house or stuff like that) and maybe even try with baby/kid stuff bc shes planning on being a single mom

the thing is i knew she was being 100% serious and i do mean what i said but i also dont think i really Realized and also i may have been thinking hypothetically/jokingly kinda? without realizing? that that could be my actual future?? and shes potentially looking at getting a house rn and i wouldnt be moving into it anytime soon but she was asking me if id like to one day and is asking me abt stuff and it hit me like Oh Shit and i also realized her proposed deadline for starting to have her own kids is coming up in the next like 2-ish years (shes in her mid thirties) and im like. i actually dont want any of that lol

like i Just got out on my own? and id like to remain that way for a long time if possible? potentially forever?? and thinking on it if i ever got a house of my own i imagine itd be smaller and stuff and like the places we've talked abt id have my own space for sure like basically a mini apartment/basement scenario but thinking on it now i dont think thats good enough for me? bc someone will still be there living with me even if it is like upstairs or whatever and will be wanting to spend time with me that i may not want to be sharing (this was the first 18 years of my life lol) and not only that but there will be at least one if not two kids and ive never lived with anyone younger than me for an extended period of time and ahhhhhh

idk just having realizations ig and idk if theyll change or if I'll have to break her heart or if I'll have to put up with living with ppl again idkkkk

[cemeterylanes]

unfortunately will be rambling beneath the cut again because im antsy on a plane

i wish i felt alive i have no spark no joy i go for a week and have to come back and take more medication because i am getting worse. i see my regular therapist again in two weeks i feel a great existential dread that i will die without living

i hate to sound so stupid to say fomo is real and in the way i experience being sad i cannot just live happily or the way i want. i cant have a job i feel joy in. i could maybe someday but not right now and it feels so endlessly hopeless. i cant say goodbye to him so i say i will see you later but i dont know when later is. when i have a house. and he wont have to leave. i hate seeing arden go places. i hate seeing people having a better time than me. i feel like the incarnate of the sin of envy watching people do things that make them happy all of the time. i really do. its not even in a like fuck you i hope you deserve to be unhappy way or like i want to do the same things (i want to travel but i dont want to go glacier hiking or music festivals) and do what i want to do and be there.

i know real life isnt like that and i sound like a hedonist that only craves pleasure and joy because who doesnt but i am on such a thin tightrope i think i could slip and hang myself if i tried. also very mad i was writing on the ride to denver before i could save the draft. im trying to enjoy stuff like making art again and setting goals but constantly am trapped between "fuck it whatever" and being responsible. i get a pay raise in 4 weeks and im hoping ill be eligible for teletime so i can work from home. the least they could do is let me do that and i only need to be in the office 3 days a week. id go monday tuesday. other days at home. i could do laundry and eat. i could work from bed. i wouldnt be doing overtime at 9 pm at the office for another half hour drive home.

im getting 2 new tattoos in november and i am going to consider getting a new nostril piercing on my left side so it matches. im getting a mullieter mullet shag thing in january because i really like it and its like as close as im getting to expressing myself because i cant dye my hair or tattoo my hands. i hate my fucking job so much . i hate feeling like theres no way out of the rat race i am in. id be so much better if he was at least with me in the same timezone. im so sick of having to hide our relationship because our parents think its not real / internet people scary.

im trying to set goals because i do bitch to bitch but i do have ambition but i am so tired from being sick from being chronically ill and crippled by my family or how things are. i so desperately want to open a taxidermy and tattoo shop because it would be so great. i could teach workshops. but it also means i have to work on flash sheets which i've been doing terrible with because ive been drawing other stuff to get back into the swing of things and havent touched my tattoo gun in a couple of months.

but the hardest part is i dont want my hobbies to feel like a bummer because theyre hobbies i love and enjoy and want to keep enjoying them. i want to feel normal so badly. i really really do. im just so unhappy i feel it everywhere. being in philly/nj has been the happiest ive been in two years and i will be miserable again

[lolosrollercoaster]

so - back on an I need to write this out to process it and I guess im sharing it mood.

So ... been looking for a job since April, took a bit of a break in May but was supposed to be back in it by now but I'm just. exhausted. the depression has come back full force and I'm now lk desperate and financially stressed af.

So anyways, all of these months I kept just mass applying when I could get myself to with the full resume I had - no changes. no tailoring it to an application etc. and then I decided to apply again to this one place in sept - even though last year when I applied I hadn't had much luck, but this time around there was a position very similar to my last one - and I was lk fuck it I gotta do it.

in the mean time I've kinda been going to a psychiatrist since lk august to be evaluated bc I think I might also have ADHD. But anyways she thinks that I need to leave my house, see ppl and rejoin life in order to see if my problems are from lack of doing anything and so my mental health is fucked bc im lk stuck at home feeling useless or if its because of something else - lk idk something is inherently wrong with me lol. I think she'd shit on me if I said that out loud to her. she's kinda cool - lk intimidating cool but not in a bad way. she's just such a no nonsense person and she'll read you lk you're an open book you cant get much past her.

my mom had to go in to share what she'd seen happening with me (aka lk the outsiders perspective of what changes can be seen in me since Ive been mentally fucked) and she was so nervous ahahaha and then in the end she was lk wait do I want an appointment with her for myself? my mom is a whole character. if only y'all knew.

anyways back to the job thing, so she told me to apply to anything, I just needed to get a routine going again. so I applied to a bunch of things. and then I got a message about a grocery store job on indeed and tried to reply but I couldn't help but feel a bit sad bc I thought man I finally got a grown up job and now I'm back to my OG job roots, back to the grocery store life. And honestly I think a lot of my extended family has fucked me up on that bc they're so snobbish about these jobs. ANYWAYS so I didnt hear anything back after I answered them 🤷🏻‍♀️ so I thought ok . and around that time I had stopped applying.

fast forward to the past 2 weeks - my dog got sick, I got sick - we had the worst flu, I've had the worst period of the last few years, ive been out of it, my mom has been out of it, my dog has been out of it - also right - my grandmas death etc. (truly Oct is kinda dead to me now. so yay on that 😭 one less thing to look forward to which is sad when you didn't have much left) but yeah so then I see this email late Friday evening - which shit I usually check my email daily but this time I had forgotten bc id been sick - it was an email from Wednesday from that job I'd applied in sept that was a lot lk the one I'd left earlier in the year. and they wanted to interview me this week - Wednesday or Thursday. I managed to reply as soon as I saw it. and then I got a confirmation that Monday for it - it was an in person interview today.

I tried to prep for it as best as I could while physically dying a bit - bc lk I said been experiencing the period from hell. And yknow what that means? I'm so fucking emotionally wrecked atm- so anyways my dad drove me I somehow managed to be there, I was early, dressed professionally and everything - had even practiced some answers ... and then idk man - I think I fucked it up. They asked follow ups or clarifications of my answers but by the end I wasn't sure how to feel except man definitely didn't get that. they told me they'd make a decision by next week and let me know either way.

and the worse or weirdest part is I've spent the past few days since I found out about it trying to downplay it - lk its fine, you don't need this, if it's for you then it will be for you and if it isn't then it isn't. but I felt so sad walking out - lk idk I just got that feeling that they didn't like me. so now I'm all sad - even if all I've felt recently is that idgaf anymore and I'm ok with just dying - bc yup I got that passive suic*dal ideation down to a routine now. anyways - if anyone has any words of encouragement I'll take them but yeah I am sad .... and I have little to nothing left to give. it's been draining to say the least. and the worst part is I know my parents are just going to be encouraging and even my psychiatrist -she told me that I would get a job and it wouldn't matter who and if for some reason I didn't get something I should just think of it "well they weren't capable of seeing how great you are and what an asset you'd be to their team and that's fine because that just means it is not the job for you" but it still makes me sad know? I have trouble letting go of things and I'm way too hard on myself so it's just - A LOT.

anyways thats my life update.

[cruzctrl]

So, i've been gone for quite sometime. And alot has happened, it being me becoming director of respiratory at my facility, hating every minute of it, stepping down after 5 months, and picking up a full time job at a former facility. There were quite a few things that made me step down- actually alot of things:

1. Short staffing

The issue with short staffing and trying to approve peoples vacation times was a nightmare. I catered to these people thinking yeah its gonna be fine. Ill figure something out. Then when i get call ins, no one is willing to work. Im not about to run 20 hours working at this place when 8 hours is already dreadful. And guess what, i still did it. I tried. But the consistency of how bad no one wanted to work was more than enough of a problem for me to step down. And i low key hated people to begin with and it didnt make the job any easier.

2. Supply shortage

This was probably the worst one. Id do my daily tuesday routines of ordering supplies, and yet i seem to never get the main supplies i need. Trachs. Bacteria filters for suction machines. Pulse oximeter probes and cables. And its out of my control. I get it. Ever since covid cane around it hasnt been any easier for anyone. But again, being blamed for something i cant control was already daunting and i hated

3. Inheriting a staff i've worked with for 7 years

It sucked. They know my work ethic. And they see me as one of them. Not as a supervisor. Only when they need my signature to sign off on their overtime. Or their vacations. Or their bullshit sick days. And when i needed the help only a few were able to pull through. The fact that im somewhat salty about this whole situation makes me think: what could i have done differently? Why dont they look at me as someone who can take over a department? But then again. It is what it is. The lack of respect was already more than enough for me to leave. Aside from that, another guy who didnt even work more than 8 days a month became the director and they seem to give him more respect than me. But, like i said i could of done things differently, but i wouldnt know what to do anyways ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4. Taking work home

This was one thing i told myself- never take work home. Thats what i did. I took work home. I think about when the next time im gonna have to come in to cover a shift, why no one responds to my group me texts, or whatever shit that i needed to come in for. The stress and anxiety of coming home really fucked up my sleep. So bad to the point where id stay up super late just to enjoy what little time i had to myself. Thats bad on my part and probably affected me to the point where i dreaded work.

BUT

Ill admit, i low key miss goin to work whenever i want, but i dont miss goin to work when i shouldnt even be there. The amount of stress that has been lifted from my shoulders is so nice, i forgot how it was to just go to work, get things done, and leave with no worry about anything more or less. Im pretty content with what happened, how i did, and i appreciate the few support of people who really had my back. Funny thing is, they didnt even decrease my pay rate, so although i stepped down as director, im still getting director pay! I guess if theres a way to cheat the system, that was definitely it.

So, in hindsight, Im on call / per diem at my old facility, and got hired as full time at.. another old facility. BUT my pay has definitely increased in both places. Ever since i left, everything has looked alot brighter. i bought a new car, im back to working noc shift again, im happier as a whole, and i just think everything that ive dealt with was a lesson and that not all things at the top is so mint. The new guys i met at work seem pretty chill, and we have a few hobbies that we have in common so it was really easy to get a long with them. Plus i think this whole subacute dept as a whole is just good for myself and patient care. Its really nice to be able to go back to work and feel like im making a difference with what i do. I couldnt help but feel useless as a director. I guess one of the perks is the amount of overtime im gettin here, it is so absurd that im probably gonna be making more than my other places i worked at. Anyways, im happy and thats all that really matters. Ill probably post some pics of my new whip soon, just gotta find the time to take some decent pics. Hope you guys have been well, and this was just me ranting.

[exculis]

Maybe writing it out will make me less insane. Suicide mention obviously.

I'm not going to do anything. I feel the need to preface this. Do not call the cops on me or any mentally ill person. That will just make shit 20x worse.

I already have so little going on i feel like legitimately my only 2 reasons to live are to experience good food and to do my yarn crafts. My family members keep going out and interacting with people and exposing me to covid secondhand and if i lose my sense of taste there goes 50% of my will to live.

My sister keeps staying the night at her dumbass boyfriend's house and he's got bedbugs. When she inevitably brings those home and doesn't tell anyone for weeks and weeks and we don't discover them until its an infestation then ill have to toss out basically every scrap of fiber i own. Not just the yarn but the things ive already made too. There goes the other 50%

I guess i need more reasons to live but i don't know where to get them. I wondered briefly if maybe itd be better to just quit while I'm ahead instead of waiting for circumstances largely out of my control to cause my world to crash down around me.

Even beyond killing myself, I've gotta fight the very strong urge to just shut myself in my room forever to minimize risk. I have a wonderful concoction of mental illnesses that primes me for being an agoraphobic shut in. I can't let that happen or it'll never stop

Mental health care isn't an option. I've already been rejected by every therapist that was an option. I don't blame them. I can't talk to mental health professionals ever since my high school guidance counselors set off some kind of mental breakdown senior year. Id always had social anxiety but that was my first real run in with having nonverbal episodes. Talking to A therapist wont work when you can't talk. Even if there was A therapist to talk to. And there isn't.

Still having 2 reasons to live keeps me going well enough. But even if I lose both of them i doubt I'm even strong enough to let the misery guide my hand. I'm too much of a coward for that. People that say suicide is the easy way out have clearly never been suicidal. What would happen to my knitting machine. What would happen to my family. What would happen to me. Its even scarier when you're a closeted trans person. I have to wonder if id be memorialized with the wrong name. The wrong pronouns. But it would feel wrong to them to use a name they only found out after i died wouldn't it.

And its not like coming out of the closet while i am alive would do much by way of improving my mental health. It would, if anything, take away one of the reasons i haven't killed myself. And i don't think that's a good thing when i already have so few reasons to stay alive. Which is really what im doing. Im not living. Im staying alive. Even if coming out went spectacularly. I get on T within weeks (not likely. I have to beg my dad to make medically necessary appointments for me) and i start medically transitioning. Great. I've given myself another reason to become a shut in.

I don't live in the worst area for sure but its also not exactly a trans friendly area. I see more trump bumper stickers than anything else. Thin blue line flags is a close second. Nobody even has fun ones anymore. Just the worst political stances you've ever seen in your life. Can't we get a little whimsy.

If i started transitioning id just end up too afraid to leave my house and risk transphobic violence. I guess its a little hypocritical to want to die but be afraid of being killed. But i think its also human nature. Also, i have always been kind of a hypocrite.

Some of this would be easier if i had my own place. Sure. But i can't get a place with no job. I cant get a job due to the aforementioned untreated concoction of mental illnesses. And even if i could i would just be putting myself at risk of covid even more, and burn me out within months.

There's really no solution here. Just absolutely nothing i can do to meaningfully improve my situation. Even if there was, i have let the fear control me for so long that i wouldn't even know how to do it. But even if i wasn't afraid, or if i was capable of doing it scared, what would there even be to do? There's nothing. There's nothing for me.

All ive got is a knitting machine to maintain and a family i don't want having to carry around the burden of a dead relative.

Maybe now that that's out of my system i can go the fuck back to sleep. I don't even know why i woke up in the first place.

You ever wake up at 6 am utterly devoid of hope and unable to fall back asleep

[gumdecay]

.

[fuck-customers]

I really hate that customers try to connect with me or pretend to be my friend during the holidays. “You shouldnt be working on christmas eve” or “You probably want to go home to your family dont you?”

Like I’m only her because of you, I’m 2 hours past closing because of YOU, I dont want to hear you pity me. Someone who actually cares would never come in 5 mins before closing and stay two hours after. What irks me even more was that they ended up not getting a single fucking thing either. I work for The Phone Company and these assholes came in for new lines and new phones but with zero social or ID. Then they tried to have me use someone elses and when it didnt work out for them they had me WAIT for one of their friends to come and use their information and it STILL didnt work. Like not only did these inconsiderate fuckholes make ME stay past closing, they made my other two coworkers stay because we’re not supposed to leave someone alone to close.

I don’t have the authority to ask someone to leave unless theyre causing a scene or breaking one of our policies or coming AFTER close so its not like I could have asked them to leave either.

This incident and another before were my last fucking straw and now I’m getting out and moving on with my life.

I’m finally getting out of the retail hell hole that I’ve been in for a year and moving onto a better paying job at a school district where I have to deal with less people and not get treated like shit anymore

I put in my two weeks and my plan is to just use all my pto and sick days untill thats over and wait for my commission check then I’m out, BUT OFCOURSE one of my stupid IDIOTIC coworkers calls in sick today because he fucking tested positive for covid and now all of us have to get tested before being able to come in. Normally that wouldnt be such bad news because the company offers covid sick leave also but my first day at my new job is tomorrow and I still dont have full benefits there. Ive waited MONTHS to hear back from them for an interview and even longer to find out if I got the job.

I really just hate how this stupid shitty job managed to screw me over one last time. Now I’m staying up later than I should trying to find a same day covid test location that opens early in the morning so I can make it to my first day and make a good impression

Honestly fuck BT&T Phone Company and fuck their irresponsible employees. This is one of many locations where I’ve had to work with someone who refused to get vaccinated

Once I’m fully out I’m moving my lines to Berizon

[mementomori-demimonde]

Old Wounds

Hidden Scars: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI.1 / XI.2 XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX

Bonus Chapter (21):

Three years ago, you broke up with Miranda.

Or, to better say, three years ago, Miranda broke up with you.

After escaping Victor’s grasp and embarking on the flight headed to England, Miranda thought it was best for the two of you to be constantly moving around.

She easily procured fake IDs and documents and, as Mrs. & Mrs. O’Brien (so lame that you loved it), you checked in the most expensive hotels and made a mess of the room, only to be off the next day. Every bill was paid and the staff generously tipped, even though the money didn’t certainly come from your pockets as you didn’t have any: you found out it was fairly easy to transfer money around and trick the systems; at least all those hacking software lessons had proven useful, though you weren’t up to anything illegal - it was a matter of survivance, that was what you told yourself. 

Life was wild and exciting, every morning you were someone slightly different while remaining the same, every night you got lost in the scent of her, only to be woken up by her fingers exploring your body.

Miranda was never satiated. And while it was only a matter of sex, before, there was something addicting, now, that flickered between the two of you.

It was something you thought was unbreakable. Something so rare to be born in such a hostile condition that it would be so hard to kill that nobody would even try to.

You thought.

Miranda lit up the day you reached Glasgow.

You could see her eyes gleaming, you could see her sharp fangs shining at the pale light of the sun as she dragged you around, showing you this and that, telling you about her childhood while turning a child herself, innocent and carefree and happy enough to be pulling you in and kiss you in the middle of the road.

You stayed in Glasgow for five months after that, because she thought you were both safe.

You decided to rent a small apartment next to the theater because, apparently, Miranda loved the theatre and you loved discovering things about her just as much as you loved watching her glow as she watched the show and the people acting or the orchestra playing.

You even convinced her to take yoga classes and, except for a couple of smashed glasses when she thought a waiter was ogling you, and an exploded pillow when her football team lost to the rigors, she seemed to have learned how to manage her anger pretty well.

Even her part-time job as a dog-sitter helped her keep her calmness, even to balance with the frustration she would accumulate during her other job as a consultant; of what, you never worked it out completely, you simply knew it was something to do with finance, probably internationally. Miranda didn’t like to talk about it excessively - the pay was good, she seemed satisfied with it - so you let her be.

As for you, when the first opportunity came out, you accepted it right away: as a receptionist of a luxury hotel, you had a fair amount of working hours, perfectly timed with Miranda, and you were able to bake breakfast for the both of you, pack your lunch boxes and be back before her to prepare dinner when Miranda didn’t surprise you, instead, with some take out and a lit candle.

She uncovered a nice, unexpected side of her, but sometimes she still was the scary old Miranda, even when it wasn’t necessary, to your opinion.

Whenever she acted bad, you served her a banana on a plate instead of a nice dinner you baked, to commemorate the first meal she had you eat. Miranda would pout, eat the banana in silence, and ask for forgiveness between the freshly cleaned sheets. This worked the other way around too, of course, with the exception that she enjoyed herself a little too much, sometimes, prolonging the punishment to something more than just a banana for dinner. Either way, everything was solved in bed. Not that you complained about this method, of course.

You thought you couldn’t be happier; but you thought you could never be any less happy either, and, of course, you were wrong.

It was a casual question you blurted out without much thought.

One night, you were watching a cheesy movie on tv, just for the fun of hearing her complain while she had her legs slung over yours, silently demanding for cuddles she would never admit to be requesting. As the couple on the screen kissed and cried happily, you said “have you ever thought about marriage?”

Miranda froze. You tried to explain that it meant nothing in particular, it was just conversation, but something in her eyes had changed.

She never answered the question.

Days went by and you could tell that something had painfully shifted between the two of you.

You tried to take it back, make her forget with some rough nights, just like she used to like it, but nothing worked.

Miranda wasn’t the same.

And then, one morning she was simply gone, without a single explanation. 

After twelve days of waiting, you made peace with yourself that Miranda wouldn’t be coming back.

You started to hate everything you loved so quickly that even going out in the streets and hearing all those people talking Scottish made you sick, so taking the next decision wasn’t too hard, after all: you told Cecilia to mind the tabby cat Miranda pulled out a stray dog’s jaws and brought home for you to heal, vacated the apartment hotfoot and accepted the job as head manager of the hotel subsidiary in Rome, Italy.

 After a few weeks, you realized the change was exactly what you needed: Rome was amazing, you like the people and, most of all, the food. You even decided to join a gym so you could keep eating the delicious meals the hotel chef cooked for the staff and when the weather was good, you went for a run, early in the morning, enjoying the sight of the city lazily waking up. Late in the night, before going to bed, you would flick your tear-drop-shaped dagger and put it in the top drawer in the nightstand, only to wear it the next day, because now you felt naked without its cold blade pressing against your leg. You dropped the habit of wearing it on your thigh - it wasn’t practical with your work attire - but strapped to your calf or pocketed inside your boot. You hated yourself for it, but it couldn’t be helped. You tried to convince yourself it was just in case you had to defend yourself - it was sensible since you had to walk by yourself most of the time.

All things considered, you fit in well.

Your apartment is good, with a nice view on the Tevere, the pay is almost double the one in Glasgow and you can allow yourself some treats, from time to time, whenever you feel too blue to stay in the apartment by yourself.

You contemplated the idea of getting a pet for a time, but you decided against it since that too would awaken sour thoughts.

You tried to date for a while, but nobody was enough.

Nobody compared to her.

Despite everything Miranda did to you, her memory was latched to your brain like a plague.

It still is.

Sometimes, only some heavy drinking can get her out of your head.

 You weren’t on duty tonight, and while you’re coming back from a peaceful stroll, your colleague calls: there has been a great fuss in the hotel; he tells you about ambulances and police cars hurrying with the sirens blaring to arrest some psycho that attacked a woman in her room. A guy was shot, but you don’t register much about the events, nor do you ask for further information, eager to drop the argument and avoid some unpleasant memories rising in your mind. Guns, people attacking other people, blood… It’s all in the past.

Hurrying up the stairs and fishing in your purse for the keys, you barely notice that the door lock is slightly scratched.

You don’t pay attention to it, nor the way your key slides inside the hole, until you step inside your home, pawing at the switch, and the light doesn’t work.

Immediately, all your senses turn on, your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, your ears eager to capture the smallest sound.

It’s the hair on the back of your neck that puts you in alarm. Rising for an imperceptible breath of wind, they notify of the imminent danger.

The next thing you feel is a strong arm wrapped around your throat, and a warm body pressed against your back.

The attacker clearly knows what they’re doing, but you do too.

Everything she taught you is stuck in your brain, branded on your bones.

In a flash, you lift your dominant leg just enough to grab the knife.

You plunge it into your attacker’s thigh without hesitation.

She - it’s a she - grunts in anger.

The hold of her elbow softens, her arm slides from your neck, her body moves abruptly from yours as she limps away, leaving you alone and scared, but in complete control of yourself.

“My, my. I am getting sloppy.” The voice sends chills down your spine. It’s warm, it’s smug, almost amused, and familiar. Terribly familiar.

Your heart, despite yourself, throbs painfully.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes from your lips.

“Good.” She says, “very good, m’eudail.”

Whatever doubt you might’ve had, now it’s completely gone. It’s not your mind playing tricks, associating a familiar event with a lost person, this is happening for real. Running away from England to another country, taking a new name, a new identity, rebuilding your life almost from zero has served you nothing: she still has found you.

“Miranda?”

Three years.

Three years you haven’t heard from this woman.

Three years you’ve tried to push it out of your head.

Three years of pretending it was just a nightmare.

Three years and she’s back as if it’s nothing, standing in your apartment like she owns the place. She does, in a way. Miranda still owns you, in the first place, whether you like it or not: it’s not your choice to make. Until Miranda decides to let you go, you’re hers. It’s inevitable. And you know, you feel it in your guts, that Miranda will never let you go.

Some exchange rings, some jump over an old broom; your ‘until death do us part’ was a carving in the shape of an M - not on wood or marble, but on flesh - and you wonder how could she be so scared of marriage in the first place if she, too, has made a promise for life.

She comes into the light pouring in from the windows: it’s sunset, and the streetlight has just been lightened up.

Like it’s no big deal, you watch her bend down and wrap her fingers around the handle of the knife and, with a quick motion, she pulls it out from her wounded flesh with minimum bleeding.

With a wince, you notice that her trousers are already stained with dried blood, mixing with the fresh one.

She straightens her back and bares her teeth into a crooked smile, her split lip glistening with droplets of crimson. It looks painful. She doesn’t seem to mind one bit. Her cheekbone is blooming with blue and purple, her throat bears a sore line around. Miranda wears her bruises as if it was makeup, proud and confident. And, oh, so beautiful like the night before she left.

You can’t help but feel concerned, which only adds to your frustration: you shouldn’t care about her, you shouldn’t feel so strongly about the blood running down her chin - she probably deserves it, and more - but you do care.

You watch her, powerless, as she stumbles toward the couch and lets herself fall unceremoniously on top of it, grunting as her bruised body slackens against the soft pillows. Her shirt is stained as well, her knuckles scraped.

“You’re beaten up.” You dumbly point out.

She lets out a dark chuckle and lolls her head back. Your eyes are drawn to the rhythmic movements of her throat as she swallows. You can almost taste the iron inside your own mouth - how many times she’s kissed you after a training session, how many times your sweat mingled with hers when you wondered if you were fighting or fucking.

It all felt so long ago and, still, it hurt like it was yesterday.

“Tried my best, but you can’t expect the featherweight to win against the heavyweight without a significantly favorable weapon. He was just a bigger psycho than me: came out on top, in the end.” Miranda murmurs, a smug expression deforming her features. “Victor, on the other hand-”

The name has your head spinning. His ugly mouse-face comes to visit on the blurry surface of your mirror every time you shower, the rough lines crossing your back are a distant yet a painful reminder of those days of imprisonment, confined in that small room with Miranda, uncovering her past, her job, her boss and his despicable ways. Those marks hurt, but not as much as it hurts the one on your left shoulder - not until now.

“You’ve gone back to work for him?”

After all you’ve been through, after all the pain he inflicted, after she promised to have him killed because he took it out on you, Miranda decided to still work with him. Betrayal didn’t even compare to what you felt.

How many things can change in three years? You lived a lifetime in two months, since Miranda kidnapped you. Three years, right now, are an eternity.

Miranda’s smile drops. Her blue eyes wander aimlessly around the room, stopping in a dark corner. They aren’t focused, but it’s easy for you to see the regret blaring in her lost gaze.

“It was what I am,” Miranda murmurs, her voice emotionless, “it was the only thing I knew.”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you. It feels like forever before you move your first step toward the couch, your gaze fixed on her as if you were trying to control a snake about to snap its vicious attack.

You know Miranda won’t move, not to attack you anyway, but you’re cautious when you speak.

“You’re talking in the past tense.”

“He’s dead now.” Miranda breathes out heavily. Her voice almost overlaps yours, as if she’s completely zoned out, not listening at all, unaware of her surroundings, as impossible as it seems. “I killed him, gave him what he deserved.”

The sheepish look she gives you is the sparkle that lits your flame. It doesn’t matter if Victor is dead now, the memories still haunt your dreams, and Miranda has gone back to work for him.

You feel cheated on, betrayed, and you still don’t know what she wants from you. Frustration builds up from within until you feel like exploding.

You would smack her and shake her by her shoulders if she wasn’t so bruised - and if she’d let you, of course, before succumbing to her strong arms and be stopped by force.

“Miranda, why are you here?” You would ask her to leave, tell her you can’t stand her sight… if only that was true. Angered beyond words by her persistent silence, you walk to her with heavy steps, until you’re in front of her, for the first time, towering her small figure on the couch. She looks frail, harmless, submissive, but you know she’s not any of those things. “Miranda-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know how she’s managed that - if she’s pulled you down by the collar of your shirt, or hooked her fingers in your belt, or even hit the back of your knees with her foot - but you’re falling right onto her, like the controlled destruction of a building, collapsing right where the demolition expert planned. You try to catch yourself with one hand on either side of her head, fingers clawing the soft pad of the back cushion, even if it’s not necessary: of course, Miranda has caught you first.

Although ‘catch’ is not entirely correct. Her greedy fingers are grabbing your head, pulling more than supporting, and before you can realize what’s happening, her lips are on your mouth.

Oh, God, how much you missed her.

It’s not a nostalgic kiss, she’s not asking for forgiveness or awakening long-lost memories. Her lips are urgent, almost aggressive.

It’s like those three years never went by, as if a lot of things never happened: this one isn’t Miranda, but the mysterious woman who kidnapped you in the alley; she’s back to that unhinged creature that tortured you in the most pleasant ways, who turned a cage into paradoxical heaven where wrong was right and the pain was pleasure.

Too easily you fall back into the addicting spiral that bound you to her. You’re completely at her mercy, once again, with no power nor will to pull yourself out of it. Despite everything, you want more of her kisses, you want more of her touches, you want more of her, no matter if she’s rough or brutal - something of Miranda is still better than nothing.

Hungry hands travel fast from your face to your neck and, for a moment, you prepare to hold your breath thinking she will wrap her fingers around your throat to have you squirm in her lap, desperate for air, just to assert her total control, but you’re wrong. Miranda doesn’t stop: she paws possessively at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the coarse fabric - you hate a little how your body seems to react regardless of your mind, answering to her touch in all the right ways.

You always take minutes to remove your uniform, Miranda hasn’t taken more than one to leave you in your undergarments, confused and wondering if you were actually wearing something before she claimed ownership over you and your body, like always, like she was entitled since the beginning.

Her mouth travels fast, in tow, she nibbles and lavishes, sending electric sparks to your core.

You don’t dare speak, afraid that the spell will break, that you’ll wake up from a dream even though you don’t remember falling asleep, even if it feels real, so real, almost too real that you can’t bring yourself to renounce it.

The tip of her nose tickles the valley of your breasts when she kisses her way down your stomach and belly, her nails scratch dully at the small of your back, pulling your knickers down in one move.

You’ve never noticed how chill your apartment can be. Or maybe you’ve never been so hot before, within these walls.

Her mouth knows exactly where to tease you, her tongue touches all the right places and only in the right ways. Her body remembers everything, and at the same time, it feels new. She tastes you, pursuing the depths of you, almost as if she wants to drown right there and then.

Bare and vulnerable, you don’t even perceive the typical powering position on top of her; Miranda is always on top, also when she’s not.

You can only arch over her as she draws a hurried orgasm out of you, leaving you raw and trembling, your mind spiraling from contentment, nostalgia, and a deep sense of guilt and then back again, when her tongue doesn’t stop until she isn’t satisfied with a second climax, and a third.

It’s easy to lose count when Miranda is having her way. It’s easy to get lost and losing track of time and of yourself, it’s easy to set aside everything to chase her with your hips, desperate for everything and in everything.

She doesn’t allow you to catch your breath when she’s done. You barely catch a glimpse of her when she pulls away, working her jaw to relieve the soreness that has surely set in her muscles, but her eyes are elusive, disappointing you when you hoped to look at her and find the woman you know.

It’s just another confirmation that she is still somewhere else, at least in spirit.

You’ve learned to know her strength, despite her petite size, and yet you can’t prevent the surprised gasp that escapes your mouth when she pushes you off of her and into the couch on your front, so fast that you gape at the pillow below.

You struggle to adjust your head and tilt it to the side when you feel her climb on your thighs, her ripped legs grabbing yours with vicious force when she lowers herself, and despite being fully clothed, you can feel the heat from her core right below your bottom, where she sits.

You swallow in anticipation, shiver when her nails rake at your skin, and then, then everything stops. She pauses.

You feel all the tension leave the room like the fog lifting from the streets.

Her legs are looser when she shifts lower on your thighs, her hands are softer when she glides her fingers up the small of your back and they linger, for a moment too long, across your shoulder blades.

You want to say something, even say her name again, listen to your own voice calling Miranda while still striving to breathe, wearied by the pleasure her skilled tongue has brought you. But as soon as you take a small breath to speak, a startling weight on your back knocks the air out of your lungs.

You take a moment to comprehend that Miranda has leaned on the top of you, her chest rises and falls rhythmically against your back, her breath tickles your left shoulder and you blink at the fact that her cheek is probably resting on her carved initial, and not just by chance.

You mentally count three seconds in, three seconds out. Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Had to find you.”

It’s a murmur, barely a whisper, so small you even doubt you heard it for real or just in your head.

“What?”

You try to squirm from below, eager to watch her face, read in her eyes if she’s making fun of you in the cruelest of ways or not. Her voice has tricked you on many occasions… or not. Maybe it was her eyes. Maybe it’s better for both of you if you can’t cage into each other’s eyes.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, relax your muscles, stop your hands from scrambling in the purchase of a steady surface to push yourself up and Miranda off of you.

It’s better this way: she won’t talk, otherwise.

“Thought I could do it.” She sighs, her lips move on your skin, leaving a moist halo around her lips. “Thing is… that I could.”

“You’re talking about-”

“Glasgow.” She snaps. You feel her clenching her jaw tight. “When we lived together.”

“You’re scared that you could live normally?”

Silence.

“You don’t understand.” She huffs. “People like me can’t usually walk away whenever they please and forget about their pasts.”

“But you did.” You retort. “We were fine.”

Miranda chuckles. It’s a bittersweet one, and it ends quickly.

 “I was doing fine before you came.” She clarifies. It clarifies nothing, but you don’t dare to interrupt, fearing she’ll just walk away for good. “There’s a reason why so many have failed. No one was able to ruin me while I ruined them. No one was you.”

You can breathe easily now that Miranda has rolled off of you.

You turn to your side quickly, eager to follow her with your eyes and make sure she won’t take the door and never come back after such a declaration. Rare have been the times you’ve heard Miranda talk in such ways and you can only imagine what is the prelude for: something fatally bad, or something impossibly good.

In the forced darkness of your apartment, the blue of her eyes glows at the dim reflection of the streetlights.

Her voice echoes in your head.

When you initiate the kiss you’re surprised she doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t even complain. She doesn’t grab your face or the back of your neck, she doesn’t claim the lead.

It’s startling, and it’s a foreign sensation you’re not used to, at all.

You barely register the soft rustle of fabric as you chase her taste and mingle it with yours.

And then finally you feel her hands on yours, her slender fingers reaching for yours and sliding almost perfectly in between, like pieces of a puzzle.

She swallows your breathy moan.

You haven’t expected your hands to be drawn closer to the warmth of her body. She lets her fingers move to your wrists, she lets them loop around the protruding bone there - she doesn’t squeeze, she doesn’t pull nor push - leaving your pads free to roam over her stomach, through the small crack of her shirt, gliding over the taut skin of her abdomen. You feel new bumps, new scars perhaps.

She squirms when you push a little too hard against her hip bone.

Or, maybe, she doesn’t exactly squirm.

You feel her adjust, raising her pelvis off the couch, but not to ease discomfort.

Your fingertips slip easily beyond the band of her high-waist trousers.

Miranda doesn’t move.

She’s even stopped the kiss, letting you decide.

It’s an open invitation - a request, perhaps - to touch her, properly, like you’ve been asking, for weeks, silently, before you decided to voice your thoughts and your feelings. 

Everything went downhill from there.

Your breath catches, the long-awaited moment feeling so terrifying, now, that you can’t bring yourself to just stop thinking and follow your guts, your innermost desires, to claim what has been denied to you for so long.

Miranda wouldn’t have hesitated. She didn’t hesitate to take when she wanted and could.

Thing is, you’re not her.

You pull away from her in a blink, your fingers tingle with unsatisfied electricity when you hide your face in your hands.

“Miranda.” You growl. Your voice comes out muffled from behind your palms. You’d want to yell at her, berate her, but it only comes out desperate, you sound on the verge of crying. Maybe you are. “What are you doing?”

Her hands are touching your wrists again. She’s gentle. More than she’s ever been. She forces you to unpeel your hands from your face.

In the dim light from the streetlights, her eyes shine again. They seem full of unshed tears, but you don’t want to fool yourself with dull illusions that don’t belong, with every possibility, to either of you.

Miranda doesn’t talk. You know it, you can see it, there’s a whole universe of things she’s dying to say, and still… she doesn’t speak.

You let out a shaky breath, sit lower on her legs, your gazes locked.

“Miranda, what’s your point?” You try again, softer this time.

She opens her mouth to speak then, only to close it soon after with a frustrated sigh.

You can’t endure more of it. You’re too spent to keep playing.

Miranda speaks only when you push yourself off of her, trying to stand up.

“My point is- I’m done.” She huffs out a disbelieving chuckle as if it’s the first time she’s told that, to herself even; the first time she’s truly grasped the idea and made it final. “I’ve got tons of money now and I can leave it all behind.”

“Miranda-”

“We can leave it all behind.” She corrects. One of her hands slithers to the small of your back, pushing you down to keep you near. It’s confident but for the first time, somehow, it’s not possessive. “Start over, for real.”

You swallow a mouthful of sand. Your head is spinning. You even wonder if something has possessed Miranda’s body and has turned her into some normal person who is actually repentant and is willing to start over.

How much can a person change in three years? Does it also apply to Miranda? The rules of mortals apply to such mysterious creatures like her?

You’re about to ask for a moment when you hear a distinct mew.

“What the fuck-” You startle, snapping your head toward the kitchen. It’s hard to see, but there’s definitely something on the counter. A box, maybe a crate. With something furry poking out. “You brought the cat?!”

Miranda’s lips are crooked into a sheepish smile when you look back at her.

“Please?” She whispers. Her voice is velvety against your lips, so close you could answer with a kiss. “What do you say?”

Maybe you will answer with a kiss.

Maybe.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Thought I'd make an update on my paints cuz its been over 8 months at this point

I hadnt tested any of them since they had time to dry

The ones I made out of eye shadow aren't super deeply pigmented. I never expected them to be but they seem to hold up the same as other watercolors ive used

(Makeup on the left, mica pigments on the right)

But the mica pigments are almost exactly identical to regular watercolors. They're a lot more glittery than any of the watercolors I have but the mica powder was glittery so im not surprised

(Daler-rowney watercolors for comparison)

The glitter one doesn't work at all now that its dry. Doesn't pick up any of the glitter but thats fine. It was just an experiment

Surprisingly most of the paints dried even with the lids on

And they reactivated with water just as well as regular watercolors

But 2 of them just...didnt

They separated out but I was able to mix them back up easily. Thankfully they dont seem to have grown mold or anything so at least the cinnamon essential oil i added did its job (meaning clove oil wasn't the only type of oil you can use despite literally everyone using it and nothing else)

So im gonna leave the lids off and let them dry out for real. I dont know how well they mix with each other yet so thats a different test I need to do but so far the paints hold up compared to commercial watercolors and they haven't gone moldy so id call the experiment a success

OK

So 4oz of watercolor binder will get you a lot of fuckin paint

I ran out of mica powder and dug out some glitter to experiment with when I still had some binder left

As expected its not the best on its own but could be cool used on top of another green paint to make it glittery

[chronicals-of-top-surgery]

25 days post OP 6/20/22

Jeez, five days have passed already?? Time is FLYING by.

Well, a day or two ago I took a nice hot shower and because I wasn't super concerned about water getting into places it shouldn't (which was a concern when my nipples weren't fully attached yet) I was able to get everything cleaned. Sadly, I need to exfoliate because just rubbing my shoulders made a ton of gross, dead skin fall off.

Speaking of gross dead stuff falling off, the hot steam got the scabs really loose. My right nipple has almost no scabbing now and my left lost a TON. It's seemingly very healthy and pink and perfect under there. The top is weirdly not super smoothed down to the skin or flush, it's raised around the top edge but I think it'll smooth itself out and be fine.

Though, while I was gently lifting away the scab bits that were flaking and falling off anyways, one bit of scab gave a weird amount of resistance. Turns out, there's a fuckin SUTURE hiding under the scab!! Like a whole stitch, hiding, totally missed by the doctor 2 weeks later. I sent him a text and showed some pics and he said I'm healing up perfectly, I look amazing, and that the suture will dissolve and fall away on its own so just don't bother it and it'll be fine.

I only have 6 more days of wearing my chest wrap too. Ive been taking breaks for a few hours at a time. Just letting everything breathe and relax a little, especially when the wrap is just not cooperating and is rolling up and sitting on my scars weird which hurts. My sides do hurt but I think it's from the wrap and laying on my sides. I've been able to sleep on my sides a little but I keep just rolling back over to sleep on my back again.

Everything is super sensitive. Especially in the center of my chest between the two scars and like in between where my breasts used to be, it's just really tender to touch. Like touching a super raw sunburn, or (and maybe only my fellow autistic folks will really get this one) when someone pets or rubs you in the same spot over and over for too long it starts to hurt? Yeah that sensation. Really uncomfortable. It feels better with the wrap on it and nothing brushing up against it but my whole chest is just sensitive in a bad way

For some reason, right below my nipple and a little to the outside, it's hard as rock. Idk what that's about bc the rest of my chest is more squishy. I'm guessing it's muscle?? Or part of the suturing? Idk, it doesn't hurt, just a little strange note. It's on both sides, mostly the left, so I'm assuming it's normal.

I still am trying to not really stretch, I still haven't done any heavy lifting, pushing, or pulling. I plan to keep it that way for another month, hell, until I'm moving out for college (3 months total healing). I want to be CERTAIN I don't cause any damage and I want my scars to heal as pristinely as possible, and right now I have the luxury to do so. Besides, as of right now, if I stretch a bit too far or push a bit too hard, it does hurt. I haven't had anything besides a twinge of achey pain or a quick pinch but id rather listen to those little hints of pain telling me to stop while I'm ahead and not push it further.

Ive got my online college orientation tomorrow so I have that to look forward to. I also need to start talking to my boss about when I'll be returning. But I can worry about that tomorrow. I still have 10 days before my leave ends, I'm not on the very last second of planning. It's still flexible and calm and I'm not gonna freak myself out over a minimum wage job. The only reason I haven't quit is because I want to transfer to a store in the college town and take advantage of tuition reimbursement.

So yeah! It's going good, I'm taking it easy still, healing is nice, I'm no longer stressed about my nipple because it turns out it's scab was just a LOT thicker than my right one, and everything is healing good! Im outside of the scary zone now, no more fear that a nipple will fall off or that something will get infected. Now it's just a gentle waiting game for the sutures inside to heal and dissolve away and for my scars to settle and start permanently healing. It won't be completely healed for like 3 years (the deep scar on my hand took about that long to go from reddish pink to my skin tone) but I just need to make it to the period where I'm safe to work out again which I think is like 3 ish months? I'm fine with that honestly. I'm not going to start working out again until I have the campus gym accessible to me.

I'll keep updating this periodically! Im really fond of this blog and all like 3 people who follow it, and it's a great archive for myself and my memories. Somehow being in Miami simultaneously feels like yesterday and a year ago. I miss my companion, I miss how much he doted on me and cared for me. Of course my mom dotes on me too but that's a good mom for ya, I love and appreciate it but I still yearn for him too. Little bit of gay yearning never hurt anyone yeah? Yeah. I'll keep updating here as I go along and heal! Until the next post!

[morbidlittlebitch]

So i started applying at some places recently..not because i feel like i CAN return to work again but out of fear. Ive been freaking out because i got a notice that they were reviewing my ssdi benefits to see if i can still keep them or not but they wont tell me how long it will be until i am notified of their decision. Which is not fucking fair, because if they suddenly decide to cut off my only source of income wtf am i supposed to do??

Anyway i was mostly trying to apply at stay at home jobs because of my severe social anxiety, its so bad i rarely ever leave my home and if i do i get easily overwhelmed and over-stimulated. However i decided to apply at a few other jobs. I got a call back for a housekeeping position in a facility... its full time and id be making good $. I love to clean too so thats a plus. I felt hopeful at first about the financial part of it.. i wiouldnt be broke all the time anymore and id be more financially stable and independant and i could finally afford to save up for the things i really need. I managed to go to the interview (though i was super nervous and my hands were fucking shaking the entire time) and the guy really wants to hire me. I just basically have to pass a drug test which im.not sure if i can even pass because i ate an edible like 2 weeks ago.

So i should be happy about all of this, right? I was at first, but now i just feel super depressed about it and scared. I dont feel like im really ready to go back to work again and be around others especially not at fulltime hours. Im only doing this 1 because im worried my benefits will be cut off and 2 because my partner is pushing me to do it. Plus i know her and her mom always think of me as being lazy and simply using my illnesses as an excuse not to work. But what if i try to do this and it turns out i cant? What if i fuck it up and then they take my benefits away because they see i can work again? And then i have to try and work hard and fight tooth an nail all over again just to try and get them back and thatll take fucking months. But i feel like if i dont try to do this her and her mom will be mad at me or look down me for it. Also what if they cut them off anyway and i have nothing? Idk what to fucking do but i dont know if i can even do this :(

Like idk it just seems like no one ever listens to me or believes me or cares about whats best for me. Like the people around me expect me to just be able to do things like everyone else can and that my illnesses are just over-exaggerated or not even real.

[curious-menace]

Rogues age headcanons?

so  i was scrolling the riddler headcanons tag and a post by @canadian-riddler inspired me to make this.  i cant find my bradly games guide with the info in it but i did go and get the arkham timeline from the wiki for reference

https://arkhamcity.fandom.com/wiki/Timeline

i also remembered that batman is stated to be 32 in one of the games. but i cant for the life of me remember which one. i have a suspicion that its Origins which would make him roughly 44 by arkham knight, so im going to try and use that as a measuring post for the other rogues. if i can find the source ill link it in the replies

Also before y'all yell at me for ruining your Headcanons, none of this is confirmed. I just worked them out based on the in game evidence but that doesn't make it canon. It's up to interpretation.

Also also this is just for the Arkham series. Idk about the rest of the canons out there. Gotham Riddler is much older than batman, Gotham scarecrow starts the show as a child. It's confusing.

Penguin

He’s obviously the oldest of the rogues currently active. He has a terrible grudge against the wayne family, bruce and thomas included. im going to say hes in his 50-60s because that would put him just a bit older than Thomas wayne, giving them time to be active and at eachothers throats before batman was a thing. its difficult to tell with him because hes a smoker in canon, obviously that ages people. he also seemed to get much older overnight between city and knight which are only 9 months apart. the voice modulator he has also doesnt help, so i dont feel confident saying more than 50-60 by the time of AK. i guess you could look back and say he appears to be in his late 40′s in origins. slap on 10-12 years and it would be something like this: AO= 46-49  AA=55-58 AC= 56-59 and AK=57-60

Two-face 

He’s a little bit easier.  we know he and bruce were friends (ignoring his connection with batman )at one point so they have to be roughly the same age. i cant find any concrete evidence  for when  harvey became twoface, only that it happened after arkham origins and before assult on arkham. ive also been informed by wikipedia that to be elected DA you generally have to be around 30. because of that, i think two face’s age plays out like this : AO=30-32 AA=39-41 AC=40-42 and AK= 41-43 

Poison ivy 

another slightly easier one. although ill admit there isnt much evidence, what we have is pretty solid. In the cold cold heart dlc its possible her visitors badge in the lobby reading “pamela isley- visitor ”  this tells us shes not yet a doctor, because we know she goes on to work for gothcorp under Dr woodrue. why would she only have a visitors pass if she worked there in origins? presumably she has already graduated from university, otherwise she couldnt be an intern. so that would make her timeline something like this : AO=22-24 AA=31-33 AC=32-34 and AK 33-35

Riddler

Riddler and scarecrow were probably the hardest ones for me to do. when i replied on indys riddler post  is said he had a degree in criminology but now i cant find the evidence for that. i know he has some sort of degree , he’s the head of the GCPD’s cyber crimes unit they wouldn't give that out to anyone ( although the possibility does exist that he faked the qualification to get the job but im not using that as a factor in my sums) 

Given that he is a genius, we could maybe put his graduation age at 18-22 rather than the normal 22-24. Im going to assume that he’s been working for the GCPD for a few years so that he could build up his network to the size we see in ao. that would leave us with a timeline like this : AO=20-26 AA=29-35 AC=30-36 and AK=31-37. 

im aware much of the fandom thinks he is much older than this, putting him in his 40s but i think his lack of selfcare, obvious heavy smoking habit (given the cigarettes in his hideout in ak) and overall poor health both mental and physical have made him age beyond his years. for me, personally, i canon him to be 22-24 in AO and 32-35 in AK 

Scarecrow

honestly given how little we see of him physically and due to the fact we cant eve see his face, scarecrow was the hardest to place. An easter egg in Origins :Blackgate referes to him as Dr crane , revealing he is already a doctor so he’s got to be at least mid 30s by then (given the average age for a doctorate and professorship is 33-37) Ive scoured the internet looking for answers but this is the best i can come up with: AO=33-37 AA=42-48 AC=43-49 and AK 44-50 

Harley Quinn

Simlarly with Ivy, shes working towards her doctorate in the time of Origins. given that she was in blackgate its likelys he knew Dr Crane before he became scarecrow, perhaps even worked under him. she appears young in origins but shes not a teenager. id have to put her at 20-24 given shes already got some sort of degree. We know she goes on to become a doctor by the doctorate certificate in the steel mill in arkham city so she must have achieved it before becoming harley quin in roughly year 6 of the time line ( origins being year 2 and knight being year 11-12)  with all this in mind i think her timeline must look a little like this: AO= 20-24 AA=29-33 AC= 30-34 and AK=31-35 

Well that's all my thoughts for now. If you have any other ideas, questions or want to add to my post feel free to HMU 💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

[iamtheempress]

A Vegeta x OC Fanfiction (part 2)¤ ¤ ¤

The morning came with silence and silence came with Raditz banging on Calamatta’s pod. 

“Wake up! we need to get our pods to the ship in the upper atmosphere then we start the terraforming process! Got it?” SHe stretches and gives the long haired Saiyan a lazy thumbs up. Confirming she heard him loud and clear. Rubbing her eyes she punched in the coordinates to the ship and off the four pods flew to the ship in the higher atmosphere, slotting their pods into the mothership.

The four took their time to leave 2 by 2 to the planet and scour the planet to completely terraform it, with expertise and precision. Cracking open the planet enough to let the oceans flow forth, for several hours they did this until they returned to the ship. Calamatta entered the ship last and was greeted with a crisp clap to the back from Nappa. “Good job, lil lady!” He bellowed as she rubbed the back of her head. “T-thanks Nappa, now im just worried.” 

Raditz raised his hand and shook his head, “Ahhh calm down, we're going to give him an honest review of you then you will be moved to our quarters, you get your first pay and then you should be good. Settle down.” He brushes past her and makes his way to Frieza’s Hall. Vegeta followed behind, throwing a glance at the female Saiyan as she sat on a chair, he can tell she was nervous by the frequency of her bouncing leg. They didnt like bending to Frieza’s whim, but they werent about to just go against him out right.. And with one more saiyan with them to train and get stronger they could be unstoppable. Its just the matter of pandering to Lord Frieza until then and making sure they dont get killed.

Lord Friezas chambers had only Zarbon blocking their way, the annoying green haired former prince with no shame. Dodoria, the brainless ruffian was nowhere in sight. “Monkeys.. Im assuming its about the release of Friezas little ape?” Zarbon said very condescendingly to the three, very annoyed Saiyans. Vegeta tightened his fist and grit his teeth at the comparison to apes so blatantly to his face.

 “Zarbon thats quite enough. Ive been expecting them.” Friezas voice piped up waving the three Saiyans in. “Y-yes, Lord Frieza.” He obeyed and moved out of their ways. “You are excused Zarbon, your services arent needed this evening.” Frieza rotated fully in his seat and swirled a full goblet of wine within it. 

The three took bended knee to Frieza begrudgingly and raised up at the same time. “Were here to confirm our Terraforming a rousing success.” Frieza smirked and paid attention to Nappa. “Indeed. It was to be a 4 to 5 day excursion and you done it in 2 and a half days? My my, you 4 are persistent!” He chided and pointed to Nappa first. Everyone is fully aware of Frieza’s death beam so Nappa winced. Causing Frieza to visibly inflate like an egomaniac. “Now what is your report about my favorite little monkey, Ms. Calamatta” He sipped his wine and let it hover mid air rotating it and lacing his fingers together and letting his long worm like tail wag lightly. Nappa took one step forward and spoke up, light sweat on his brow as he made eye contact with deadly bright vermillion eyes.

“Calamatta’s first time out with primary race extermination was exquisite. Effective and heartless. If she continues with us you should expect the same, Lord Frieza!” He did a full bow and stepped back for Raditz, The long haired teenage Saiyan cleared his voice and spoke up, starting with an embarrassing voice crack. “She took orders for sequences of events and how to lay waist to entire cities fairly quickly. I'd prefer her with us simply because she has a job to do and she seems to enjoy it.” Frieza slowly nods, eyes closed and speaks softly. “Mhmm. mmhmmm. You two are dismissed. Vegeta… you stay.” 

Frieza took his goblet and took a sip from it as the Prince narrowed his eyes and approached, puffing up his chest. “What do you think about the pretty little simian? Shes quite interesting… obedient and has grown to be a lovely young woman, shapely i think your repugnant species would call her... You are aware her father appointed her to me when she was a child, I'd assume Vegeta…?” He lets the wine glass levitate again, Vegeta stood with his arms crossed and brow raised. “Yes, Im aware...What is this about.” Frieza clicked his nails about on his seat and smiled softly.

“Her father did not trust his only daughter with the likes of the Kings eldest boy… Not after their fight… so she was appointed as my little monkey butler, a nice little piece of arm candy… if only she wasnt a Saiyan. Anyway… Enough with my little flights of fantasy…” He gestured to the confused Saiyan Prince, his lips lined straight and unmoving. “About Calamatta… How was she.. Your word I take higher then anyone else.” He preened upon saying her name, it was borderline perverted but with a sinister meaning behind it. 

“Shes the missed opportunity id like to get my hands on. A perfect Saiyan through and through. If she werent by your side so often id have taken her by my side YEARS ago, Frieza…” He stated as a matter of factly, Friezas dark little smile returned “How disgustingly romantic... Zarbon! Summon Calamatta for me.” He snaps his fingers and trot like tapping faded down the hallway. Zarbon was waiting outside, like a good little brainless lackey.

Calamatta was tapping on the table she waited at, tail flicking nervously about behind her. She was snapped from her stupor of nervous leg bouncing and hair twirling to Zarbon slapping his hand down firm onto the table. “Calamatta, Lord Frieza is requesting your return asap.” SHe nodded and fixed her hair abit standing up and wrapping her tail around her waist. Shes known Zarbon longer then shes known Dodoria. 

The kinship Zarbon developed for her was astounding, a favorable friendship when she felt immense discomfort in her teens on. It weirds her out and flatters her nonetheless. “Yes, Zarbon.. Right away.” She walks along side Zarbon and even passes Nappa and Raditz on their way back. “Ill have you know for the duration of time that I have known you; you are not like the others… youre charismatic and maybe the most tolerable, of the 4 of you...your  still nothing more than a monkey butler though.” She sneered and returned her gaze fixed forward, down then away. The moment she turned the corner she went wide eyed to see Vegeta. 

She stopped in her tracks and was given a push from Zarbon, Frieza chirped upon her entry. “Welcome back, Calamatta! I have some good news for you…” “Lord Frieza..” She bowed at the waist obediently she stood next to Vegeta and Zarbon once again excused himself.

“I trust that your first day terraforming was a success and that you had a splendid time, did you dear?” Calamatta stood up straight and let her tail unwind from her waist. “Y-Yes! I actually liked it alot!” She chirped and gulped abit, Vegeta scoffed and closed his eyes, only for Frieza to speak. “Oh, well you are not out of the woods yet my dear...no no.. You have one more task to prove to me before i let you do anything with the male populace for you to shake your pretty little tail at.” 

He makes a face and a screen pops up on the window behind him. A massive green, blue and red planet popped up on the screen encircled by 2 rings and 2 moons. “You and Vegeta are to Terraform this planet on your own. I will give you a month to do it because this planet has highly hostile inhabitants.” Vegetas eyes snapped open and stared at the planet then to frieza. “You cant be serious? Why not just send me on my own then i can do it 3 weeks without the likes of a newbie.. No offence Calamatta but its just facts.” He crossed his arms. “Do this the both of you for me in a months worth of time and your pretty little primate will be out of my hands and in yours. Indefinitely. But if not i will be forced to use my own hand… and you dont want that Vegeta..” He grinned widely. His pointer finger extended toward the female Saiyan and she gulped upon seeing the beam charge at the tip of his digit.

Vegeta stepped infront of the female Saiyan and narrowed his eyes, his move was more instinctual than out of emotion. Calamatta never thought the prince would ever put himself in a position like this but here he was, his solid back to her front she peaked over his caped shoulder and looked at the tyrant who tilted his head. "Hehehe.. it seems ive struck a chord in you Vegeta.." "Not at all.. she's done nothing for you to raise that finger at her. I've made the decision and well go…" he clenches his fists, the material of his gloves made a noise. Calamatta could feel the princes frustration from how close he was to her… "to that planet… and well wipe it before the month even finishes.." 

Frieza chuckled, "Good… i know you will fulfill your promise.. Calamatta you stay, dear.. Vegeta…" Calamatta straightened her back  and tightened her tail around her waist. "You are dismissed.. i have a few things to discuss with her." Vegeta turned around and made eye contact with Calamatta, with a pitiful look in his eye.. like he knew she shouldn't be in this situation. "Bye, Vegeta." She said softly, causing the Emperor to briefly narrow his eyes, she kept her head forward. Vegeta said nothing as the door slid shut behind her. Leaving without a word and kind of making her heart sink abit. He grit his teeth and stormed down the hallway to a perplexed Raditz and Nappa.

“Calamatta, come little primate.” Frieza beckoned to her and snapped for one of his little cronies to bring something to him. Folded up in the hands of Dodoria himself. “Hello little Matta, hope you enjoy this little costume change.” She nodded to him and took the body suit and armor. “When would i expect to go to this planet?” SHe tilted her head and held the new suit, noticing theres not much too it, which made her really wary. “Ah ah, first things first alittle bit of information is more useful about the planet then when you and the simian prince will go.” Frieza quips looking at his shiny black claws. “The planets name is To-Rot, it is a giant habitable planet that im sure would be able to line your pockets quite nicely.”

Dodoria crossed his arms and quirked a brow at her, “Lord Frieza told you about the type of inhabitants to that planet right? Its not a walk in the park and I certainly wouldnt go alone... “ Calamatta gulped. “Now now, Dodoria. Do not frighten the girl. Who knows she could be the best of the 4 remaining Saiyans. We will see..” He gets out of his pod like seat and uses his tail to tip her chin up, a small smirk still playing on his lips.

“Run along and change and you may turn in for the evening… you both leave in 20 hours, when we arrive to the nearest solar system. From there you and Vegeta will go To-Rot.” Frieza chuckles to himself. “Fitting name dont you think? Ohohohohohoooo !!” He laughs and Calamatta turns and bows walking back to the saiyan chambers to change.

¤ ¤ ¤

Tags:  @memevember @dragonblobz @gonuclear @msgreenverse @fallen--lilith​ @jimbobslurpnchug​ @dragonballzforlife​ @nikabriefs​ @lilhemmo​ @lizardhipsdontlie​ @hierophantblue​ @supremeleadershitlord​ @thotful-writing​ @chickiedinner​ @anti-jaina @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit​

[dairyfarmboy]

Dairy Farm Fantasy:

I have been seeking an opportunity to live/work on a dairy farm most of my life. I havent been working on a farm since I was a kid, and id like to find a likeminded farming partner.

I would be hired for the summer, and upon completion of a few months of training, i would be taken in fulltime and allowed to move in with the farmer permantely. It would also be a test to show my loyalty and service to the farm.

The farmer is a older man, tall, hairy, and built from a lifetime of farming. Wearing tall black rubber boots, coveralls, and a john deere baseball cap. Sporting a big salt and pepper beard. Never wearing deoderant, and would fill the air with his pungent musk, and hint of cow.

For the summer, Id be ordered to live in a spare room inside the cow barn until training is complete, where then i can move into the farmers home. Simple space with just a bed and a desk and a rubber flooring. The industrial smell of rubber, and strong manure/piss smell constantly overwheling the space.

Before starting, we went to the local farm supply store to get my work clothes. The farmer asked for my clothes and boot size. There wasnt much of a selection, and he handed me a pile of gear to try on. He followed me to the changing area which was just a curtain in the corner of the store. He told me to try on the carhartt bibs, and shirt first. I took off all my clothes and slipped into the bibs. It didnt take long for me to get a hard on. I stared at myself in the mirror admirring my new farmer look. The farmer said it looked like everything fit.

After a few moments, he came back with some boots. A pair of LaCrosse knee high boots, a pair of thigh waders, and a pair of industrial chest waders. I was ordered to try on the chest waders first. The smell of heavy rubber was overwhelming. I slid into the waders and was taken over by the rubber. My dick started to leak and throb. The farmer came by to help adjust the straps, and his musk added to my horniness. He had me in his full control.

After trying on all the boots, the farmer told me to give him my street clothes and put on the coveralls with the knee high boots. He said that we will be going to work right away and theres no sense in changing twice. He also gave me a john deere hat to wear. I walked to the counter in my new farm gear feeling great. A sense of belonging started to come over me. For the first time in my life, i felt myself. I couldnt stop starring at myself in the reflection of the shop window. There were also a few other farmers in their dirty gear walking around the store. I could smell the sweat and manure from one of the other customers.

I walked out with 2 pairs of coveralls, 2 pairs of bibs, 2 flannel shirts, a rubber rain jacket, 2 red union suits, a hat, rubber work gloves, wool socks, knee boots, thigh waders, and chest waders. Because its summer, the farmer told me i will only need the necessities for now. I was instructed to wear the coveralls for work, and the bibs for relaxing/night time. I would then sleep in the union suit at night. No need for undershirts and underwear in this heat and humidity. I was also ordered not to wear deoderant as its just the two of us so no need.

We get back into the truck and i immediatly start getting hard again. The truck was filled with the farmers smell and his manure covered floor mats. My dick was throbbing against the coverall material and leaving a big wet spot of pre cum. I was basically hypnotized by this man and couldnt think straight. We passed by neighboring farms and enjoyed getting whiffs of manure and hay smells.

Upon arriving back to his farm, i was ordered to put the rest of my clothes away and settle into my room. I walked into the cow barn on my way to the room when i saw a green, fresh, steaming huge pile of cow shit on the ground. I couldnt help myself and walked right up to it. I slowly stepped down into the squishing and felt the warm shit surround my booted feet. I could smell the strong warm humid smell. My dick was so hard it almost cut a hole in my coveralls.

I was the horniest Ive ever been in my life. I was under the spell of the farm, and could feel the inner perv coming out. The feeling of humid sweating in the gear, and smelling the manure was taking over my whole body. Without thinking, I pull out my rock hard dick and start jerking hard. Within seconds, i was falling to my knees uncontrollably moaning and shooting load after load. I shot about 10 good bursts, sending my cum 8’ across the hay and shit covered barn floor. My moaning went on and on.

After a few moments, i stood back up and saw the mess I made. I used my boot to push away the cum, and tried to wipe my boots off with a stack of near by hay. I arrive at my room and put all my clothes on the shelves. I realized my bed had a rubber fitted sheet over the mattress, and assumed he just wanted to keep it clean.

I lay down on the bed and felt my coveralls slide against the rubber sheet. I started to get hard again. I lifted my shit covered boots onto the bed and just laid back in my gear. I closed my eyes and took in the strong smell of the barn. I was getting horny again. My dick throbbed against the old pre cum stain i had left from earlier. I lifted my arms over my head and noticed my arm pits were getting ripe already. I just imagined my new life on the farm and knew this was what I wanted.

Seconds later i heard a knock on the door from the farmer. He said, “well i hate to break your new gear in this early but we have an issue with the slurry tank”. “I need you to put on your chest waders and rubber gloves”. “Hope you dont mind smelling like manure for a few days because this is going to be a messy job”. He gave me a long stare into my eyes with a wicked smile.

To be continued:

[snoewolf]

Im not good at blogging.

I always assume its not worth posting and just dont do it.

Ive been pretty depressed lately. Bae has been amazing and trying to help me through it.. but sometimes.. theres nothing even he can do to make me feel better.

My birthday came and went, its always hard for me the week of my birthday ever since my exhusband served me divorce and child custody papers on said birthday. Its been a couple years, and nothing bad has happened since then.. but it still haunts me.. like im waiting on the next shoe to drop or something.

I keep catching myself treating Bae really bad even when he doesnt do anything to deserve it. He is amazing to me, and does everything for me literally treating me like a Queen. He loves my children like his own and actually interacts with them.. what more could i ask for? But when i get into these depths.. i feel myself treating him unfairly based on what happened to me in my previous relationship. He handles it well, but i know hes just as tired of it as I am.

Still no further on getting my child support from my ex.. which really sucks. I ended up having to drop out of school. They offered for me to go back in a few months.. but theres no way im going to be able to afford it. Im already working double to try to make up for how behind on my bills its made me since i started the program. This saddens me, but im trying to think of it positively.. i wasnt really happy once i was in the program and saw how hospital employees are treated... and treat each other.

My current job is amazing and works with my schedule when possible and i am so thankful for the opportunity. But. It doesnt pay very well for the amount of time im away from my kids to do said work. (How does america expect a single parent to live on $9/hr without any kind of help?!) I cant even afford rent, let along car/phone/electricity/gas/ whatever else comes with renting. My credit isnt good enough to buy anything not to mention wouldnt be approved simply for how many cobwebs are in my bank account.

SO ive been looking for a second job, or a better paying job. I found a second job that pays better.. and offers health insurance! Ive been looking for months and finally got a call for an interview. It happened to be on my day off. How great is that?! So of course i went, theyre paying amazingly! I got there and along with 4 other people, they start showing us around. I thought that was weird.. ive had interviews with this company before and never was shown around the whole place.. but i just accepted it because ive never had an interview with this specific location. We go to the back and im ready for the interview! They start handing us company vests and work tools... im a little confused until they had out schedules. I got the job! Wait... this isnt an interview.. this is orientation! Oh snap! What am i suppose to tell my current job?! Luckily my current job hadnt put out the next weeks schedule yet so i was able to alert my manager as soon as i got out of the building.

Unfortunately, she was not happy. Granted, had it been up to me.. i would have much rathered given a heafty warning.. i dont like to leave any job on bad terms (and so far havent 🤞🏻) so i let my manager know im being trained for this second job for the next two weeks and i cant mess with those days but it doesnt effect my current job at all this week.. which is all i have a schedule for.. she doesnt think she should have to work around another jobs schedule when i worked here first.. i agree.. but.. in my shoes.. this other job is a better opportunity for -me-, for -my- bills for -my- family. So she told me she fixed it for the next two weeks but wasnt happy about it.

Sooooo.

Im now working the next 14 days straight and even at two jobs in the same day.. 🤦🏻‍♀️ im gonna hate myself for sure. But! My daughters birthday is next week and i need to buy her more than the only gift i currently have for her. And Christmas is right around the corner! I need to catch up my car payment and keep my phone bill current and not late... not to mention gymnastics/dance/and boyscouts that i dont want to take away from my kids because its not their fault im poor.

So luckily today hasnt been too awkward at my job but i did tell Bae that depending on how petty they decide to be over the next two weeks depends on if i keep 2 jobs or focus solely on the new one that pays so much better. So. We'll see. Id like to have both at least until Christmas so i can get some presents under my tree.

I guess thats as good of an update as i got currently. Whoopwhoop.