#if i get lucky then i can make a lot of money and retire early and then just chill forever

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than wheat

You're more amazing than job applications

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Bird And The Man

Chapter Five

Rated Explicit | Warnings: None

Ao3

Chapter Four | Chapter Six

You did not go to school early in your life, your mother could not afford it no matter what job she got. She taught you everything about life, words came from going to the library during her breaks or dropping you off there because it was safer there than home alone. Luckily, there were a few other kids and a former teacher who did not mind watching over them so long as they behaved.

That older woman with a British accent taught you the power of the pen. She retired her title but not her skills.

You had structure, you learned, and you grew.

As time passed, you started writing stories when you hit your teenage years, many of them short and simple. Until you read a book named Call Of The Abyss by Orpheus. There were others, so many you have read, but those books drew something within you. Lighting a fire within your soul.

When mother passed and your job as a housekeeper was not making enough to both eat and sleep, you tried something different. Had made a few changes, location is everything. Your first job within your skill level was simply writing down words spoken; following around someone quickly, having a sharp hearing, and you learned shorthand that first week of getting that job.

Ghostwriting happened by chance, someone found a story you wrote (it was just a made-up story about Sherlock Holmes for some kids around the street you lived on). He hired you to write his son's book.

You… Never seen such a large amount of money before.

One book, two books, and a third book.

The contract broke the year your employer's brat decided to write the fourth book that was a failure.

He did not read the outlines you made for each book.

Outline, noun, definition one: a line or set of lines enclosing or indicating the shape of an object in a sketch or diagram. Definition two: a general description or plan giving the essential features of something but not the details. Definition three: give a summary of (something).

The quill writes like any other normal quill, yet, the words you cannot control yourself to write every bit are not normal.

Golden Cave, Lakeside Village.

You are out of breath and stumble backward knocking over your chair as you stare at a mess of papers— Written on these papers are the horrors of the miner and his death.

The quill falls to the floor as you hold your head, the painful memories not your own suddenly gone. It hurts a lot, then it fades until only your mind remains.

When you returned from the match with others, Lucky Guy was waiting in your room. He had given you a letter with the infamous seal on it and simply your name on the envelope. You burned the letter as ordered by Lady Nightingale after reading it…

Next, he asked some questions. All seemed strange yet made sense as you started seeing things— Seeing people you never met around you.

The side effect of Outline, she dubbed it, is you will see these memories until you give them a voice. This voice is your medium: pen and paper.

The ability given to you is based on the many tutorial matches Lady Nightingale made you do. Something unique to you, your edge in the matches but must be used wisely. It only can work twice, once as a ‘freebie’ (Lucky Guy’s words), and only lasts as long as you can handle the damage it inflicts upon your consciousness returning to your body.

This is why you were hurt badly when Orpheus found you. Nothing like a hunter's damage but enough to have left you stumbling.

The knock at your door snaps your thought process, you quickly pick the chair up from the floor and clean up the mess of papers stacking them neatly, you check yourself in the mini mirror and-- Whatever, whoever it is can deal with you not looking your best.

“Hello?” Opening the door slightly to see Orpheus, “Oh, good uh… Evening?” What time is it?

“Good evening, Hypnos.” A pleasant smile on his face, “You weren't at dinner so I thought we could eat together?” Holding two plates of food. “If you are available.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Sorry about the mess. The writing process and all!” Laughing bashfully as you open the door and step aside to let him in.

Your room smells of ink, coffee, papyrus, and incense (a gift from the Priestess to help with stress). “You can eat here.” Adjusting the chair to face the desk, “Thanks, Orpheus.” Taking both plates of food and puts his plate down before sitting on the bed with your plate on your lap.

Orpheus looks different without his usual white suit, this one cuts him to look a bit bigger than how the white suit makes him. The vest, the rolled-up sleeves, the small circular glasses, the dark casual dress pants. His mannerisms are the same as he sits down, the man knows well how to start a conversation.

All after the food is done, the butler delivers a bottle of wine and two glasses, you never turn down a nice glass of wine. Helps with digestion.

“You published your book, congratulations.” Cheers as your glass and his glass touch in toast.

“Yeah, I know not the ideal circumstances but I needed it to be out there in some way!” Taking a sip of the rich red wine, “Edgar did amazing on the cover!”

“He did, you should praise yourself too.” Eyes watching before he drinks too, “It is well written.”

“Did you like it?— Wait, no don't tell! Not sure if my confidence can handle a review from someone I admire.” There's a smirk on his face, one that has you looking away as you drink more of your wine, “Anyway, how about you? Any ideas or drafts?”

He leaned back against the chair with his legs open, a relaxed pose different from how seats, well, anywhere in public. “The fifth book of Call of The Abyss is going well.” Stirring the wine gently with the rotation of his wrist, “The topic was about you, however.”

“Well, I'm not very good at that.” Shrugging, “It's out there and that's it.”

“You did splendidly.”

“Oh, you're just being supportive.”

“Hypnos, repeat after me,” Now leaning forward and his hand on top of your knee, “I did splendidly.” And you are very aware of how beautiful his voice is. Or maybe how stern he can sound that makes you feel warm.

“I… I did splendidly.”

“Yes, you did. I do hope you continue to write more.” Getting up from the chair, you do know why you miss the warmth on your knee, “Thank you for allowing me to keep you company. Rarely do I find such a lovely fellow author to converse with.”

“Yes, yes you too!” Oh, wow, you are screaming inside. “Goodnight, Orpheus.”

“Rest well, Hypnos.” He leaves with a glass of wine in his hand, “Enjoy the wine. You earned it.”

Christmas events are not really your thing. Maybe because most of your childhood Christmas was either you alone with a book or your mother finding ways to keep you both warm. It is strange though, a comfort you did not expect from the after-effects of Outline ability: Norton understands this. The part of being poor with almost nothing to your name. 

You do not talk about what you saw, the quill felt invasive and you rather not scare anyone about the ability. Still, at least you know someone understands why you do not participate.

Though you may not take part in the festivities, you have to dress up per Lady Nightingale's request (order). So here you are dressed like Jack Frost. Blue tailcoat suit with snowflake accents, sparkling white shoes, white gloves, and mini top hair clipped to your hair. Blue eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, white freckles with glitter; the woman is very much into details.

It is very over the top.

Before the musically talented survivors and hunters get together to perform, you slip away to take a breather. It can be overwhelming when you see the survivors and some hunters attempt to enjoy themselves. Not everyone here is a monster, they are all actors in a play with no ending.

Depressing to consider but it is a reality you know others have accepted.

The place you call Elysium is beautiful. The fresh snow, the barren tree decorated with snow, the few birds chirping away. Sadly, your paradise is fucking cold! “Tsk.” Annoyed but you smile at the beautiful scenery. “Edgar would like this.” Looking around then your smile grows big seeing the familiar large creature you adore. “Orpheus!” The bird rather than the man approaches you.

Fluffy and doting, you nuzzle the beak part of his mask. Your hand holds his face in place as you cover him in kisses, and most of your blue lipstick. “I missed you.” Because you do and the few chances you are together with him it is always moments you savor.

“Miss. You.” Softly spoken though you wish he wouldn’t hurt himself doing that. His hands hold you by your waist, his head on your shoulders, he is a peace around you. Physical touching is your love language, well, you have many ways to express your love but with him, you find touching him is important to both of you. Maybe he feels like a monster, and he looks like a monster, but you know he is not. It is a feeling and the reason you trusted in that allowed you to become close to him.

The sound of Christmas music echoes throughout the manor, he guides your hand onto his shoulder and the other to hold his hand. You giggle as he guides you into a slow swaying motion, his foot going back on step and you take one step forward.

It is like a dream, the one you see in those silent movies, both of you are quiet as there are no words needed. 

[swifty-fox]

Mota hockey au, again (sorry for spaming your inbox).

Did the guys want to be pro players hockey since their early childhood or did it happen later?

Did they have other players they are/were looking up to?

Did they have a backup plan (for their career) in case of serious injuries? What will they do once they retire from playing in games?

Thank you for your previous answers 🥰

PLEASE KEEP EM COMING I LOVE THINKING ALL THIS STUFF!!

these are really good questions wowie.

Bucky wanted to. He grew up in Wisconsin which is big hockey territory. All that lake superior/canada area just produces a fuckton of NHL players. He slept with a hockey stick and his parents signed him up for hockey leagues as soon as he was able to be put in.

Gale comes from a hockey legacy. His dad was an NHL player who played for the Canadiens back in the day (mom's a famous figure skater hence his model good looks) He wasn't given a choice about going pro, He's just lucky he loves it anyways

Bucky's hero is Dominik Hasek

Dominik has a REALLY interesting play style that's super athletic and all over the place. this guy plays and defends with his WHOLE body he's a goddamn acrobat and was so good some players literally believed it was impossible to score against him. Normally tendys will catch with their gloves, block with their chests and maybe catch with their knees. Dominik uses....everything. Bucky loves that loves the physicality and the passion. he spends a lot of time practicing off of Hasek tapes. Does a lot of asking Gale to try to score on him while he has no stick just to get better.

Gale Looks up to the greats. Gretzky and Mario and Jagr. I think he likes Jeff Skinners play style a lot because he's a similar small light guy so he wants to pull from someone with a similar build. (fun fact jeff skinner used to be a figure skater! it shows really obviously in his play style, the way he spins around the other players and skates backwards) Skinner's just SO quick. he used to be with the Canes and was kinda wasted there. Seems like he's thriving in Buffalo which makes me happy I always liked him

When you play in the NHL you're....paid a lot. The highest contract right now is Nathan Mckinnon for 100.8 million for eight years. So unless you're really stupid with your money as long as you play a few years in the NHL you can kinda be set for life. Most of the guys are young so they're not thinking backup plans. it's not even an idea in Gale and johns minds what else they would do. John probably got a business degree just to make his parents happy. Gale skippeded college to go straight to professional hockey (lots of guys do this)

I think after they retire Bucky goes into commentating. he's got that voice and personality that makes narrating the games excited. Most of the commentators are former players because who better than someone who knows exactly what they're talking about

Gale coaches kiddie hockey leagues :) he doesnt know how to get off the ice and loves teaching the kids.

[thedeliverygod]

I need help, please.

Essentially back in 2021 when I filed for bankruptcy I used a feature my payroll for my company offers which is to “borrow” money from your following paycheck, I guess like a pay advance. I borrowed the full $500 amount in order to pay my court fees/lawyer fees so that I wouldn’t have to burden my dad.

I figured once my bankruptcy went through and I was no longer paying credit card bills every month, I could handle being short a paycheck a month or two while I bounced back. I tried my best, but life kept getting in the way. I had car problems come up, I had health problems come up. At my bankruptcy hearing in December they decided they wanted me to pay 2 more installments of the court fees early so that I wouldn’t have to go back a second time (I also had to hide my cell phone in the bush outside because they did not provide lockers and I had to worry about it getting stolen the whole time because I have no family/friends in the area to drive and drop me off but that’s another story).

Then my rent went up another $100 and inflation struck everything but especially groceries. I needed every drop of that $500 + the remainder of my paycheck in order to make sure everything got paid.

I won’t say I’ve been perfect and haven’t made unnecessary purchases. It’s a goddamn depressing world and I am trying to keep myself sane with little things.

I’ve sold a lot of “unnecessary” things in my life. Old video games and stuffed animals. Old movies. Old books. I tried to sell cosplays but I left them up on eBay for months with no bites.

I can go to the used book store maybe one or two more times with some things but I think that’s about all I can manage. I’m considering selling some of my Kingdom Hearts figure collection but I’d have to know I’d get a fair price of what they’re actually worth since a fair amount aren’t made anymore. But yeah, the bookstore offers me meager amounts for things so it I only helps so much. For instance I sold my ps3, some books, a Mai sakurajima figure and I think I got like $38 and a few dollars of store credit. Aka it helps but not much. I have an old diamond necklace from my ex boyfriend I’ve considered pawning but I don’t know if that would get me much either.

My mom just got home from a stint at the hospital; she’s relatively okay now but she was in the ICU for an infection, kidney damage and low blood pressure. The latter 2 were mainly from being dehydrated in combo with the infection so she’s mostly better in that regard at least enough to go home. She’s on disability and her husband is retired so they scrape by. My dad has been sick and not working for several months now with leg issues I don’t really know much about because he’s been very vague with me and won’t let me visit.

My parents can’t help me and I can’t help them. It’s been one of the most frustrating feelings on earth.

All in all it’s 4 am, almost 5 am and I’m asking for help because I don’t know what else to do. I’m ashamed of myself and I just am so lost.

Because of the rising costs of everything, I’ve often been over drafting now. I don’t know if I’ve just gotten lucky or what but my bank didn’t hit me with overdraft fees that is until today. I got several right at the same time I deposited money and I’m left with under $40.

I’m still getting my halved paycheck so rent is priority with that and then hopefully one or two bills. But I need groceries somewhere in there. There’s a prescription I need to pick up. I have an overdue medical bill that I’ve pushed aside already in lieu of utilities. And I just am so overwhelmed. Thankfully my cat is well stocked in all his food thanks to my best friend ordering him a Goliath sized bag of dry food and me buying wet food earlier than I needed to so there is that positive.

TLDR: If anyone can donate anything so I can get groceries I’d be so grateful. If I could somehow get to $500 to make it so I don’t have to borrow money for my next paycheck I’d be eternally grateful but I feel like that’s asking too much.

I don’t feel like my situation is bad enough for a gofundme but I do have a ko-fi which I’ll link at the bottom. I am 100% going to be job searching for better pay soon but I have a surgery this month and I need to not mess with my insurance just yet.

I’d gladly write drabbles etc if you would like as a thank you gift but I unfortunately don’t have much else to give. I wish I could draw so I could take commissions.

If you can’t afford to donate, I totally get it. But also if you could reblog and maybe it’ll find it’s way to someone who can? Thank you either way.

I’m sorry if I rambled on too much but my mind is racing. I just want to be able to get back on my feet so once I can help myself I can maybe help my family.

[punemy-spotted]

Hi Punemy. I just found one of your reboots on an It's a Wonderful Life post. And I was wondering how you're getting by now? I'm in a big corpo job and it doesn't pay enough to buy property too and I hit burnout. So I'm trying to figure out what people do to be happy out of traditionally "successful" roles and still. yknow. survive.

Hi friend. I'm so glad you reached out to me. I've... been having a lot of thoughts about this, so you'll see a rambling answer underneath the cut, because you're basically getting a distillation of my panicked 3am journaling.

In short: I wish I could tell you that I'm doing great or that I figured out the secret, because trust me, if I knew the secret I would share it so fast.

I thought I had my dream job when I landed an immigration lawyer position, except it burnt me out so badly I'm still traumatized from it, nearly two years later. Then I thought I landed my dream job in early 2023, when I got a great corporate counsel position with excellent pay and benefits... only to be forced out thanks to corporate nepotism and an industry I just... didn't fit in with.

I'm in therapy now, to deal with both of those things — both of those things and the burnout, but that's hand in fucked up hand, isn't it?

So you know what, I'm... not doing great.

And I think that's okay.

I'm so sorry to hear that you've burnt out. It's... hard. Incredibly hard. Therapy has helped me, and I think it would help anyone who has access to it — I can't recommend telehealth highly enough. The service I use right now is Sondermind, and it seems to be even more robust than my health insurance's website, for sure.

Beyond that...? Take it slow. If there's one thing I've learned since getting my license to practice law and bouncing from shitty firm to shitty firm, it's that I owe my employers only as much work as they pay me for. Nothing more and nothing less. And if I'm not finding joy in the work that I'm doing — be it the research or the culture — then it's time for me to bounce. I don't expect I'll ever own property, not unless my parents suddenly decide to retire back to India and leave me the house, and... that's okay. It has to be okay. It has to be okay because there are other things I can spend my money on. It has to be okay because the rainy day fund to sustain me while I'm unemployed is more important that the mortgage and the responsibilities I don't think I'm ready for. Maybe I'll be ready one day, or maybe I'll be fine in my tiny flat with my roommate and my collection of fountain pens.

Find joy in the world outside work. If you're paid for a 40-hour workweek, don't do more than that. Don't. Do, however, seek out friends. Go to museums and play silly games. Listen to music. Pick up a hobby. Go to therapy. Redefine what "success" means to you — when are you at your happiest?

I've been incredibly lucky to have a community of friends and family. I hope, truly and sincerely hope, that you also have a community of friends, Anonymous Friend. I hope you can lean on them when you need them. I hope they hold you up on your worst days and celebrate you on your best. Because there is no greater joy than having that community.

As for surviving outside of high-paying corporate jobs, honestly... I'm gonna say the cliché thing, which is that it's time for all of us to redefine survival. If we live in an era where owning property is no longer a part of our futures, then so be it. Tiny apartments it is — that doesn't mean you don't deserve to own your space for however long you live in it. Let every little joy build up on itself. Join a summer reading program and listen to audiobooks on your way to work, or call up your best friend on your way home. Take the time to look for work in fields you enjoy. Will you potentially take a pay cut? Maybe. But surviving on a smaller scale than what our parents had may just be what we have to do — and that's okay too. Maybe we'll make the world a better place for us down the line, but right now, we cling to what we have and survive.

Also, seriously, go to therapy. Can't recommend that enough.

I wish you well, friend. May you find strength and kindness in the many many years to come. And when it comes to burnout or bad days, remember, this too shall pass. And so too shall you, through it all.

[miraculousmarkets]

Another topic I want to talk about that isn't news related but I feel will give legitimacy to my words, is how I see so many parallels between Pokemon cards and crypto. Pokemon card trading and grifting was how I got started. I was a kid, I liked Pokemon, but I liked getting bargains and ahead more. Always had a thing for winning although nothing beats the W I got with my bugaboo.

We grew up very differently. I was a poor kid, both her parents had money. She immediately knew how to make a portfolio and had doors opening, but also had a lot of pressures I never had. Noone expected me to succeed, noone forced me to do anything I didn't want to do. There's a certain freedom and peace of mind in that, but at the same time it sucks not to have, especially when you have a competitive and masculine spirit. It was only natural I'd get into sales and marketing as a job as I got older. Used car-lots, cold-calling... But that's a story for another day. What I want to discuss is how all the same nerdy kids who grew up on Pokemon cards, either moved on and forgot about it, or evolved much like their Pokemon, probably into crypto.

Crypto is considered the laughing stock of investments because of it's volatile nature. As I write this, Pepecoin for example is at 1.87usd and still dropping. Which isn't half-bad for a crypto all things considered, and I believe in Pepecoin. However, most don't like too put their faith in memes, especially when there's so much mythology around crypto. Now, this Gengar card will run you about 70 dollars. It was released back in like 2008. Ex was a new game-mechanic and people freaked. (Game freak huurhuurhuur bad pun) Ok... So what can we learn from this?

1: Pokemon cards will appreciate in value... sometimes. Evidentially I guarantee this card might've been double in market price back in 2008, however, it maintains some of it's value because it can only drop so steeply, along with physical rarity.

2: The market of Pokemon cards vastly differs from other markets because it is a game first and foremost. As such, a lot of it's costs depends on immediate demand coupled with rarity. "Meta" defining cards will go for a lot regardless of how common it is. True of any card-game. However, once the meta changes, you can expect a huge dip. This kinda makes timing the market even more difficult than with other investments. Trends can give you some idea of the trust in a stock or the direction of a meme coin. You either have to open a new set Early and capitalize in the small window of time this card is in rotation to sell high, pull a random holo and hope card shops give you a decent deal, or sit on it for seventeen years and sell it for 70 dollars when you had no way of knowing how much of it's value would be maintained unless you had some notion of how it would interact in unlimited formats and/or how much it got printed. I looked up the price of a Platinum booster box (the set this was released in) and first price I saw was 1500usd. There are 13 cards in a booster pack, 36 booster packs. If I had unbelievable luck, dare I say...miraculous... And pulled this Gengar out of every single booster, I could make 252,000usd. More than a year's salary of a doctor.

But I won't. I don't even think I physically could considering how shipments and print sheets work.

I could pull 10. That's lucky and realistic. That's 700 dollars which is nice, but it doesn't let me even break-even. I'm sure there's other cards in the set, but I'm not going to retire on Pokemon cards this way. It'd have to supplement the hobby. Whether I like playing the game, or just collecting, it could only incentivize, that's why it was a "fad" in the 90s as people were thinking of booster packs like lottery tickets that one good pull could be the difference between eating ramen every night to caviar. It was never going to happen.

The same holds true with crypto to some degree. While I do believe crypto is the future of commerce which I will get into in a later blog, and you can more steadily profit off of it playing it's guessing game. It is essentially just another game. It's a game for adults of trading memes and hope over make believe internet coins that can increase your income, but at the end of the day most coins flounder. Even the ones that are built to withstand the test of time like Bitcoin, are essentially Gengar. Noone knew at the time what Bitcoin was, let alone what it would amount too. Now even on a bad day, Bitcoin is sitting at 60k and it's only going to get better. However, it's the same as saying gold is your ticket to owning a yacht. It isn't. It'll be an asset, it kind of already is. That's why JP Morgan and Blackwater are buying into it. Evidentially their backup plan is Bitcoin should they need to rely on that as a padding to a huge crash of some sort. However, as it stands... It's just gambling for big nerds who never grew up. And I keep coming back to this but I don't think everyone is going to be trading in Bitcoin when crypto becomes normalized anyway. People will probably use an infinite number of crypto and I'll write about that later as it just keeps coming up.

I just wanted to illustrate that a lot of the same mentality it took to succeed in crypto, it took to get ahead in Pokemon cards. And just like Pokemon cards, the real winners are the people who made friends, who have fond memories, who kept themselves busy, who met a nice girl and married her through a mutual hobby.

[starsbegantofall]

diy handmade wardrobe

You may remember, or not, it was a while ago, that I mentioned I don't really wear a lot of the clothes I've sewed for myself. Excepting the cosplay garments which are not everyday wearable pieces unless they were closet cosplay pieces with no or minor alterations, I really only wear my pajama pants and altered t-shirts multiple times.

I have worn a few handmade lolita dresses once or twice after the first time I wore them, but definitely not frequently like pajama pants and t-shirts. Firstly, I don't really wear dresses or skirts on an every day basis in my entire adult life, not even much as a kid. While I do commute to the office once in a while and could wear lolita there since I have a desk job, I mostly wear business casual with jeans/slacks and the occasional j-fashion blouse or cardigan (skirts have to be midi-length or longer and those are not very convenient for a short person to wear). I rarely go out on the weekends due to pandemic and lazy, so I would just run errands and dresses are not conducive to errands. So even if I did sew the cutest, most comfortable casual j-fashion dress, I would wear it maybe a few times in my entire lifetime. In the end, it's not worth the time and money invested into making it.

Read more about my plans here

The next obvious pivot would be to recreate the pieces that I do wear often, buuuuuutttt those are impossible for a home sewist to recreate. How do I sew jeans on my Hello Kitty sewing machine? I can't, the machine is much too small and weak to handle denim or even regular bottom-weight fabric. I don't have a serger so sewing knits like tops or casual athleisure would be a pain and look sloppy and would fall apart in the wash.

Okay, so the next obvious pivot after that is buy an industrial strength machine to sew denim and pants and a serger to work with knits. That would cost about... $2000 for medium quality machines. Maybe more with inflation. So I would have to make $2000 worth of clothes, or 100 hours of sewing (generously) just to break even. I'd have to sew every weekend for 6 months. Not counting the cost of fabric.

Which is the next issue. You can't really buy comfortable cottons or semi-natural fashion fabrics at the craft store chains anymore, it's mostly quilting cottons and synthetics and canvas. I am lucky to live near a big city with a fashion district so I could go there if I really want to for a variety of wearable fabrics that my skin would not reject the feeling of. That would not be cheap (well, idk, I haven't been to the fashion district in decades but judging from online prices, the stuff on clearance is on clearance for a reason) and I doubt I'll get the exact prints or colors I want even at full price. Thrifting bed sheets (aka the most comfortable cotton you can get cheaply) is.... probably not what I want to sell to others...

With all of these barriers, I have not been able to accomplish my goal in 2022/2023 of sewing handmade j-fashion inspired pieces for both myself or my etsy shop which was named "atelier" but doesn't sell clothes, and used to only have jewelry. My day-job also prevents me working on stuff lol, but as one of my goals was to retire early, I kinda want a head start on my atelier just in case I need to. I hopefully will have saved enough money to retire that I don't need to desperately work on a side hustle, but I like having back up plans. And also, I feel guilty not having any clothes in an "atelier" lol.

Because I'm lazy and don't want to do real business which is the downfall of society, my ideal plan would be to sew a few big/medium pieces, then a handful of coordinating or thematic small pieces, including doll clothes, and also some artwork or whatever, then release 2 or 3 times a year like how actual fashion companies do for the seasons. But with the resources I have, I just can't think of anything I can sew that would be good/sturdy enough to sell for price that equals the amount of time I put into sewing, and that anyone else would buy when they can get it cheaper elsewhere.

So my final idea is to either create very trendy items that I am fairly taobao companies will not make very well, or that American patrons would prefer to buy from a small artist in their country instead, or make fandom inspired items but fashionable like Super Groupies style. I think this is the way to go for me, tbh, that way I know I have made something unique and that I will enjoy making even if it never sells, so I would wear it myself lol. I did make jewelry in this style 2 years ago and jotted several notes of what to sew/craft for my shop in the meantime, but as mentioned before, the few items I made was not to the level of quality to be sellable (even though I personally love them and they're sturdy enough for my use of course) and I doubt I could do much better. But I have to work on leveling up my skills now or I will be too arthritic and blind later, so I have no choice but figure out something asap.

If anyone else has ideas other than buying new machines which probably I need to do anyway, let me know! Again, I'm not interested in making a profit, I'm not a capitalist nor scum of the earth, I am already a doctor, but I do want to be compensated fairly as an artist yet make good quality value-priced items attainable for everyone in these tough economic times. That's not easy, but I still want to try this year.

Anyway... back to more pajama pants for me.

[diaryfullofsparklesandkisses]

Brooo cmon earth has got to be hell right???? Like I know ppl have it way worse off then me. But still like, all last night trying to sleep I had music from to YouTube ads stuck in my head, cuz they repeat often (I need to fix my Adblock situation but still the amount of repetitive ads ur soaked in daily is fucked) and like here I am at work early, taking care of trash like I do every Wednesday, like not a great societal place to be at esteem wise. And grossness-wise. But this is the only shit I can bare doing at the frequency of barely full time. And everything’s dirty and I’m supposed to clean it, not that hard of a job but I’m still like fuck definitely don’t want to do this, I don’t want to work like this but literally every other job I’ve tried is so much more difficult and traumatizing. Idk I just feel all the parts of my body that aren’t quite right, I can’t tell if I’m hungry or if my stomach hurts like it’s both feelings randomly from one minute to the next. Talking about it makes me feel better but it’s like this every day and the only end in sight is retirement when I’m 70, ik that’s unreasonable cuz a lot can change in a year if not 40. But it’s just like, this is the only thing that is feasible. I’m actually lucky I even found out I could do this. But like, the amount of personal problems I could resolve and move past if I had a month off, or a year off. If I didn’t have to work my life would be amazing, and that applies to everyone else too cuz no one’s that special lmao. I do not deserve that shit ahahaha. Bro I lichrally can’t tell what is going on w my digestive system rn. When I’m actively dying I’m going to think about how horrible digestive problems are and that it’s not worth it to feel sad abt dying. Anywho yeah lmao like, knowing that ur “thing” is making art and music, and using all ur free time to solve ur other basic life problems u have (usually totally diy cuz fuck bills and fuck our predatory medical system, I don’t trust they won’t send all my hard earned money into the hole, also this is an attitude that can lead to death lmao isn’t that cool, fuck the world fuck u) yeah idk it’s really personally sad, depressing if u will. I’d probably feel survivors guilt if I made it out. Instead I just feel jealousy for everyone who gets lucky enough to be stable and creative at their own pace. And u need to practice to be creative well, so like I try to prove myself but it’s never good enough and also I think I’m a dumbass anyway so I don’t take myself seriously enough probably. But also cringe at taking urself seriously lmao. Yeah no like, this is hell and also I can’t even acknowledge that because of how fine the experience is in some ways and how the whole “it could be worse” thing is inescapable mentally. I don’t want to take things for granted. Also no fuck u humanity could make this system work for everyone, we have the resources, we choose not to. Or we’re too animalistic and not evolved enough. But the balance of all that bullshit is so subtly hellish, that’s awesome.

TLDR I’m just complaining and stupid

[tallmantall]

#JamesDonaldson On #MentalHealth – #Jockey #Suicides Bring Attention To #Stress And #MentalHealthConcerns Of The Job

If you or someone you know has talked about contemplating #suicide, call the #NationalSuicidePreventionLifeline at 1-800-273-8255, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. You can also find them online at https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org Eurico Rosa da Silva was in a dark place. On the track, the jockey in his early 30s was winning races and making money. At home, he was fighting #suicidalthoughts every day. “I got to the point where I have no more choice but to go for help,” he recalled recently. “I went because if I have no choice, I would kill myself.” Da Silva got help in 2006 and rode for more than a decade before retiring. He’s one of the lucky ones. Earlier this year, horse racing was stunned by the suicides less than six weeks apart of two young jockeys, 23-year-old Avery Whisman and 29-year-old Alex Canchari. A friend of Whisman’s, Triple Crown-winning rider Mike Smith, said he has seen similar tragedies over three decades. “I know several riders that I knew very well committed #suicide when it was all said and done,” Smith said. “This is not all of a sudden just happening. It’s been going on. You just never heard of it.” The dangers of riding thoroughbreds at high speed add up to an average of two jockeys dying from racing each year and 60 being paralyzed, according to one industry #veteran. Combine that with criticism from owners, trainers and bettors and the need to maintain the low weight necessary to establish a career, and jockeys have been quietly suffering for as long as they have been riding horses. While jockeys interviewed for this story worry that racing has lagged behind other #sports in accepting the importance of their mental health on the job, there is hope that renewed conversation about it prompts real change. “This needs to be addressed,” jockey Trevor McCarthy said. “We take a lot of beatings mentally and physically. With the mental and physical state, when you mix both of them together, it can be a recipe for disaster. Look, there’s proof of it, right? We lost two guys.” McCarthy last year, like da Silva before him, sought help before it was too late. His father was a jockey, as is his father-in-law and his wife, Katie Davis McCarthy. They are all used to the ups and downs of the job, from the broken pelvis and collarbone from his spill during a race in November to the uncertain hold on a ride. A particularly rough summer, including flying up and down the East Coast to ride, took a toll on McCarthy, who at 118 pounds could feel his diet and lack of calories affect his work. He wanted to quit. “I was going absolutely nuts, and my body couldn’t handle it,” McCarthy said. “You’re constantly going through mind games. And I think a lot of guys get caught up in that with the weight and the mind game of not doing good or thinking they’re not good enough.” His wife made him promise to talk to a #sports #therapist. McCarthy did so for months, learning how to find a better work-life balance that has helped him win 28 races already this year. Now 47, da Silva was named Canada’s best jockey seven times and is the Canadian Horse Racing #HallofFame. “In 30 years of riding horses, I can say to you that I never heard anybody talk about the emotional pain, never talked about going for help,” said da Silva, who’s now a mental health coach. “I approached many jockeys that I feel like they need help, and many times I said, ‘Go for help.’ I motivate them to go for help. They just listen, but they don’t really want to talk about.” Dr. Ciara Losty of South East Technological University in Waterford, Ireland, pointed out that jockeys have an “underdeveloped sense of self inside of their sport,” compared to team sport or Olympic #athletes who are less likely to burn out because they seek out other activities. She said jockeys can also be less familiar with #mentalhealthtopics because of low literacy levels and lack the support system of a coach or coaching staff. “Maintaining a low weight and obviously disordered eating is a big part of it,” said Losty, who co-authored a 2018 study on jockey mental health. “Being a jockey, you have a risk of serious injuries, and if you’ve had a serious injury the fear of re-injury when you engage or get back up on the horse again may impact your performance or lead you to some kind of distress.” #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org                            Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife:From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy   www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Dr. Lewis King, now at Ireland’s Technological University of the Shannon, did his doctoral degree in 2021 on the subject because he wanted to explore what makes jockeys susceptible to #mentalhealthproblems and what stopped them from seeking help. In talking to 84 jockeys in Ireland, he said, he found 61% met the threshold for adverse #alcohol use, 35% for #depression and 27% for #anxiety. King’s research showed that despite nearly 80% of jockeys having at least one common #mentalhealthdisorder, only a third saw a professional. He said most feared losing their jobs. “The main barrier was #stigma and the negative perceptions of others,” King said. “But primarily it was related to the negative perceptions of trainers. There was a perception within the jockeys I interviewed that if they spoke about their #mentalhealthissues or it somehow got back to their trainer that it may impact whether they get rides. The trainer may perceive them as not in the right headspace, for instance, to ride their #horses.” Trainers told King and his colleagues they felt similar worries about sharing their own #mentalhealthconcerns with owners. McCarthy, who has been a jockey since 2011, said in recent months he has actually confronted trainers in the U.S., telling them to ease up on berating fellow jockeys after races. The entire cycle speaks to #horseracing being “an old-school sport,” McCarthy said. Losty pinned the lack of progress in #mentalhealth on the masculinized nature of the industry, and da Silva said the topic is still “taboo” in racing. “Asking for help in our #sport is almost a sign of weakness, sad to say,” said Smith, who rode Justify to the #TripleCrown in 2018 and is still riding at 57. “You certainly don’t want to show any signs of that. We’re supposed to be tough and be able to handle it all.” The Jockeys’ Guild and Horseracing Integrity and Safety Authority recently sent out an anonymous survey — the first of its kind — to gauge the best ways to support riders’ #mentalhealth and wellbeing, a hotline is among the ideas being considered and a meeting with industry stakeholders is planned soon. “It’s important for the industry to come together on this issue and other issues to grow our industry and make sure equine and human #athletes are taken care of,” said Jockeys’ Guild president and CEO Terry Meyocks, a third-generation horseman whose daughter, Abby, is married to #KentuckyDerby-winning jockey Javier Castellano. “It’s important that people talk about it.” McCarthy only started talking seriously about it after getting married and daughter Riley was born, knowing he’s at the leading edge of thinking about mental health and how far behind other jockeys are. “We’re just behind the 8-ball a little bit with that,” he said. “It’s going to be baby steps, but we have a long way to go.” Read the full article

[some-creep]

Random Callie and or Marie headcanons in no particular order with some more evidence based than others. They're mostly uh hmm more Serious than the usual list like this.

I think all inklings have skin spots to some extent, some more noticable than others. Callie and Marie are no exception however the current trend is seeming like you have none so they're both covered in concealer. Marie is naturally less patterned than Callie. Callie isn't used to seeing herself without makeup and is often worried Marie doesn't really like her without it on.

Junk food addict Callie probably developed an eating disorder from her time in the spotlight and being forced to maintain a "proper" weight. When she retired, she eventually ended up gaining weight, which she also feels badly about. Marie reassures her she much prefers her healthy. (And thinks Callie is cuter chubby)

Marie no longer speaks to her parents. They thought her idol dreams were a waste of time so she stopped talking to them after she left for Inkopolis. It's also made her weird about money because for a while, it was just whatever she could make an a runaway 14 year old with big dreams trying to support herself and Callie. They worked together, of course, but Marie still felt obligated to take care of her.

Not only that I think they were emotionally neglectful, and Marie much preferred spending time with her grandpa. It's why she picked up chargers and why she usually seems to be the one more concerned about him. (In octo expansion she joins the chat at the end to ask him what she should make them for dinner)

By contrast Callie's parents were very supportive of her dreams, knowing there wasn't much for them in Calamari County. Still, Callie's mom probably worries a lot. I don't think Callie would tell them about being kidnapped because she knows how badly it would freak them out.

Marie has a peculiar Inkling problem that makes her brain fixate on one particular person as a partner. It's a biological leftover from early Inkling society that required strong pair bonds to ensure species survival. It's mostly vanished in modern society and can be treated if tested for early on. Marie wasn't so lucky and developed with it untreated. Now as an adult her brain has decided she's Callie-sexual above all else. This gives her a strangely intimidating vibe to others and no one can ever really pinpoint why. She's basically two degrees from feral walking around acting totally normal.

This causes her a great deal of distress because she worries Callie only agrees to be with her out of a sense of obligation. Callie reminds her not only is that not the case, they got together before she knew anything about this so how could that even be true.

Callie can and has pursued normal relationships before Marie, but Marie makes her happy and understands all of her hangups and faults.

Callie has nightmares semi regularly after being kidnapped (though she holds no resentment to any of the Octoling soldiers she stayed with).

Marie can't fall asleep before Callie because she needs to be sure of exactly where Callie is before she can relax.

Marie is terrified of someone finding out about them in public. Callie doesn't think anyone is gonna notice if they walk arm in arm. Sensationalist tabloids occasionally print stories suggesting they're dating in secret.

All of Callie's close Octoling friends know they're dating because Octarian society is structured differently so it literally does not matter to them.

Callie never bothered to get her driver's license because Marie has hers + they have drivers for important things.

:) and they love each other very much

[natromanxoff]

(x)

The Perfect Gentleman!

FREDDIE MERCURY is undoubtedly the flamboyant showman of the band, Queen, but guitarist Brian May, who's equally talented in his own way, is the retiring kind and much prefers to stay in the background.

He's a very gentle unassuming person who always has time for people — if he makes a promise, he'll keep it; if he says he'll be somewhere at a certain time, then you can be quite sure he'll turn up

Queen and playing guitar are his life. When he was studying for his degree in astronomy (yes, really!) at London University, he played in a band called Smile. They played some college and club dates but finally folded. Soon afterwards, Queen (with the present line-up) was born.

When the band first started out, Brian was very hurt at the attitude taken by various people — the band came in for a lot of criticism. Nowadays he's not so worried.

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion — I just chose to disagree on occasions!" he says. "We've all put a lot of hard work into Queen though, and gone through a lot to get where we are today. Sometimes people forget that."

People forget, too, that Queen couldn't have got to where they are today without everyone in the group playing an equal part. Brian, though, in particular, has come to the front more of late.

"I always hoped that people would appreciate the band, not just for what it is but also for each individual player. After all, we take our music very seriously," he said.

“My first guitar, in fact, was a home-made model. I was determined to get exactly the sound I wanted and the only way to be sure was to make one myself!

"It took a lot of time and patience but I really needed a guitar with the right kind of sound and I didn't have an awful lot of money to buy one!”

And it's that guitar which created the special, Queen-like string and woodwinds sounds as well as the normal sound we expect from a guitar. And as Freddie Mercury says: "Brian can really make that guitar talk. Can't you hear it, dear?"!

ONE problem Brian has, though, is that he's never been what you might call a strong person. It's two years since Queen returned early from their first American tour when Brian got very rundown and became seriously ill.

“Being so ill gave me time to re-assess things. It helped me to get everything into perspective," he told me. "I realised how lucky I was and it made me determined to work even harder. I suddenly knew just how much the band meant to me.”

These days Queen have their own personal masseur, Steven, and it's part of his job to see that Brian eats properly, doesn't overdo it and that he gets the right amount of sleep.

But Brian on stage is a different matter. There used to be a time when he'd stay in the shadows, preferring to wait for the lights to switch in his direction.

Nowadays, though, Queen’s stage acts often feature Brian alone for a whole five minutes playing a superb guitar solo, which really shows what a great talent he has. He also taught himself to play the harp for ‘A Night at the Opera' — a full (…) model that most people (…) take ages to learn.

Typically, though, Brian (…) almost offhand about it.

"We brought the harp (…) had no idea how to play (…),” he laughed. "I just fiddled (…) with it for a few hours (…) spent ages getting (…) absolutely perfect. (…) though more by design, I think!"

And what about (…). Will Brian May, (…) harpist want to (…) follow a solo career (…)

It's most (…) His heart and (…) Queen, and (…) found someone (…) ideas help to (…).

“I don’t really (…) like people (…) me — certain (…) capital S,” (…) be appreciated (…) and to (…) musician.

“I have (…) in Queen (…). In the beginning (…) hard time (…) really (…).

(…)

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 2)

platonic! fukuzawa yukichi x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !! 

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: part 1: meeting the greatest detective

author’s note: ages are a year younger than canon so ranpo is 25, yosano 24, kunikida & dazai 21, fukuzawa 44, you’re 19, and atsushi and the other younger members are not employed yet

and i guess slight spoilers for the untold origins of the armed detective agency but not really. it’s just a reference to it tbh

their beloved president

going to Sakura’s the next morning wasn’t what Fukuzawa had planned during his week

the reason he was dropping by was to give you money for the sweets you had given ranpo

when he had arrived back at the agency the evening before, he had made a big fuss about you and Sakura’s

he had sparked a lot of people’s interest seeing as ranpo was well invested in whoever you were and what your business was

he wouldn’t stop talking about the “cute and annoying bakery girl” who practically saved the agency simply bc she sheltered him during the rain and fed him and almost got hit by a car for him

i mean, how would the agency survive without ranpo? it was founded to make use of his intelligence and ability after all

the other agency employees exchanged looks and that’s when ranpo tiredly sighed and showed them his phone

on the screen was a contact, yours to be exact, labeled “cute bakery girl” with the note underneath reading “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”

around that time, the president had stepped out of his office to see his employees huddling around ranpo and his phone

he walked over to them and asked what was going on, and seeing the president, ranpo explained what had happened with more details

“so you’re saying that a young girl, 19 years old, nearly got herself run over to shelter you from the rain, gave you food, closed her business early so you could keep talking, and when the rain stopped, she gave you a map and even more food, and even though she may have been inconvenienced, she did not ask for anything back? nor did you offer to give her anything back? even though she relies from the money she earns to survive?

“...maybe.”

after a, private chat with ranpo, fukuzawa ended up saying that he’d go take a visit to Sakura’s first thing in the morning to pay off the sweets that she’d given him by sliding an envelope of money under the door with a note

he initially told ranpo to go back right away (and to bring someone with him this time) but that ended up not pulling through bc ranpo had told him you went to retire for the evening

so yeah

there he was walking towards your bakery when he saw a small black cat with green eyes near the entrance playing with one of the potted plants outside

even though it was small, fukuzawa could tell that it wasn’t kitten due to his love of cats but the cat was still small compared to other adult cats

when he was just a couple feet away from the entrance to your bakery, the black cat took notice of him and walked his way before rubbing itself against his leg

fukuzawa let out a small smile as he bent down to pet the small creature, and the cat gladly ate up all the attention

suddenly the entrance to Sakura’s bursts open, and there you are looking back and forth frantically 

but you soon spot him and the cat and you visibly calm down

the black cat rushed to you and rubbed itself against your leg

it turns out the cat was yours, and you couldn’t find him so you panicked and rushed out the door

from there, you introduced yourself with fukuzawa doing the same

you still had about a little more than forty five minutes til Sakura’s was scheduled to open but you offered fukuzawa to come in anyways

he declined at first, but he gave in when, just how you did with ranpo the day before, you dragged him into your bakery

“you know, fukuzawa-san, this is giving me some major deja vu!”

“it’s because of ranpo i presume.”

“oh! you know ranpo-san?”

when the two of you entered, you rushed to a table and pulled out a seat for him before you disappeared off into the kitchen

just a few minutes later, you appeared with a tray with two steaming mugs, two hot plates of food, and small basket of bread

you set one mug in front of fukuzawa as well as a plate of food while you set the other mug and plate in front of the seat across from him and the basket of bread near the center by the small vase of flowers that you had for a center piece

he gave you a confused look as you sat in front of him and as your cat leaped into your lap

“ah! it’s pretty early in the morning, and you still have to go to work later, so i thought you should at least have a little something before you go. and i didn’t have breakfast yet so i thought it would be nice to have some tea with some company. and i made extras anyways!”

fukuzawa blinked before letting out a small smile and he quietly thanks you

you beam at him and as the both of you begin to eat, you ask him why he’s here this early and how he knows ranpo

with that, the silver haired man addresses your questions and explains the reason why he’s here and how he knows the brown clad male 

after explaining, fukuzawa pulls out the envelope with some money and slides it over to you

you try to reject it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re screaming bc you know you need the money for bills and whatnot

fukuzawa wasn’t very helpful either

“so you’re saying you don’t need the money?”

“...no”

you end up accepting the money much to your inner conscience’s chagrin and to fukuzawa’s inner delight

moving on from that, for the rest of the time he was there—the last 40ish minutes or so—you rambled and talked to fukuzawa like how you did with ranpo the day prior, only this time, with a cat switching his resting point for either yours or fukuzawa’s lap

honestly, you’ve gone through so much deja vu and at this point, you’re not sure if you’re still in reality or not

sometime in your conversation, fukuzawa learned that your cat, ironically, was named lucky

apparently you found him in an alley while you were grocery shopping two weeks ago and since you took him in, you noticed that Sakura’s received a lot of new customers and that a lot of them actually ended up becoming regulars

speaking of the cat, you kept having to stop lucky from eating the food on the table

if fukuzawa was amused from your antics along with lucky’s, he was pretty good at hiding it

you: “lucky you naughty cat! i already told youuu” >:(

lucky: >:3

fukuzawa internally: :) & :D

the two of you had also became well engaged in talking about different kinds of tea, with fukuzawa even complimenting you with the tea you had made for him

it became his favorite <33

you were so happy <3

oop there’s that kid-like behavior again🤭

don’t tell ranpo🤫

scratch that he probably already knows somehow </3

speaking of which, the two of you also talked about the childish detective

it was kind of hard to tell whether or not you were admiring him <3 or insulting and complaining </3 about him lol

“so you’re the president ranpo-san was talking about huh. we talked a lot about his job yesterday! it seems quite exciting! but he talks quite a lot honestly.”

“ranpo talked a lot about you as well”

“ah really?! he can be a bit of an ass, but he really is amazing isn’t he?”

“mhmm”

through fukuzawa, you also learned how the two had first met, and this time, it was hard to tell whether you were amazed or angry at him

“awh that’s so cool!! but for someone so smart, he’s an idiot! what if he got hurt?! it was a good thing you got there huh fukuzawa-san?”

if you thought ranpo was like an older brother figure, you definitely saw fukuzawa as some sort of father figure

he noticed that you started to act like ranpo a little bit

you had developed some sort of attachment to him and when he praised you abt your tea, you had the same glow ranpo has when he gives him praise

not that fukuzawa minds

you’re just another child he’s adopting !! <33

not that either of you knew that hehe >:D

time went by pretty fast and before you knew it, there was only 10 minutes until you were scheduled to open

it was a good thing you had just finished all your prep before fukuzawa arrived

after making a promise with fukuzawa for him to come back again for some more tea, he stood up and made his way to the door as you carefully lifted lucky from your lap so you could quickly wash the dishes and to wipe the table and chairs you used

you offered some baked goods and some tea for to go but fukuzawa declined saying that you needed your supplies for your customers

as soon as you placed lucky on the wooden surface, he bolted to fukuzawa and kept on circling his legs and rubbing against him to stop him from leaving

i guess it turns out you weren’t the only one to get attached to fukuzawa

he couldn’t get even one step closer to the door without lucky reacting and running rapid circles around his legs to get him to stop moving

you didn’t know what to do and you were starting to freak out bc it was almost time to open up, but fukuzawa saved the day and offered to take lucky back with him and promised to take him back the next day

at first, like how you did with the money, you declined but ended up giving in when you saw quite a few of your morning regulars walking down the sidewalk towards Sakura’s for its opening

fukuzawa simply picked up the cat and walked out the door giving you one last wave of good bye

when they left, there was only about 5 minutes left and you rushed to finish the last minute clean up

when fukuzawa arrived at the agency (after a quick stop at home) with a cat in his grasp, let’s just say that quite a few more questions were raised

when asked about the cat, he simply answered that he was cat-sitting for a friend and ranpo knowingly smiled

but he then realized that fukuzawa arrived without any of your signature baked goods and he started complain as the rest of the agency members stared in confusion

with ranpo’s visit, they had quite a few questions, but with fukuzawa’s visit to Sakura’s, their confusion only grew a whole lot more and will continue to keep growing

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[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Death

A/N: Some swearing, and kind of rushed.

@maribatmarch-2k21

Beat up and broken Jason Todd in the warehouse Joker left him, pathetic. He helplessly looks around and sees twenty seconds on the timer. Which would have been time enough for him to escape if he was still in good shape. Then he hears voice and looks over to see a girl who seems to be glowing.

Not something a regular person sees everyday, but, as Robin, it's nothing too hard to believe.

"Who are you?" The most practical question he could come up with.

"I am Marinette." She didn't elaborate.

"What are you?"

She hesitated, looking off thoughtfully, like she was deciding how she would answer, "Not mortal."

"So you're an angel?" He said before he could stop himself. It would check out though, she's what you would think an angel would look like, white clothes, nice face, somehow glowing. All she's missing is the wings

She huffs, face grimacing in confusion and affrontedness, "Of course not. Angels do not exist."

"Well, excuse me." That's not very politically correct.

Neither spoke, Jason tried to be sizing her up with a glare and she just stood there starring right back.

"So, how'd you get in? Last I checked, there ain't another exit than the door." He looked over to it, "Which is locked."

"You are correct. There is only a door. But I came because I was summoned."

"Summoned? Mhm, cause that doesn't sound like absolute bull." He looked at her skeptically.

"Your end is near. I must be present." She stepped closer to him and in turn he scooted farther away.

"Ah, so you're the Grim reaper. Mhm, sure."

"I am not Death, that is my father." The fuck?

"Ok, so you're clearly crazy. Why don't you just show me how you got in so I can get out." He dealt with enough crazy for one night, thank you.

"I can't do that." Now she has to be difficult, because why the hell not? What ever force controlling the universe must be shitting their pants as they laugh at Jason's life.

"And why not?"

"I am not to meddle with Fate. Not even if I tried. Everything happens for a reason, and it's Fate's job to know that reason." She's really into her story.

"Ok, fine, so you're the child of death, that means you're here to guide me to wherever the fuck I'm cursed to, right?" He might as well entertain the conversation.

"No."

"No?" dear lord, Jason didn't have the patience for this chick. "Then what the hell are you here to do?"

"I represent Life, all of it." She could give Bruce a run for his money with that level of crypticness.

"That seems a little contradictory."

"Yes, well, my mother is goddess of fortune and chance. It was no surprise that my birth was one against the odds." She made her way to him and he moved back until his bruised back painfully hit the wall. She helped him sit up properly. He would have told her to fuck off if he wasn't in his current state. "I am patroness of everything in life and alive. From your first breath to your last."

"That doesn't explain why your here. As far I know, I'm closer to being dead then alive."

"As life, I am present in every mortal life."

"That's a lot of stops. There's no way you can do that, not even a speedster could."

"Haven't you noticed?" She tilted her head innocently, like how the younger street kids did to guilt adults into giving them their pocket change.

"Noticed what?"

"Look around you." He did, what's there to see but a crappy warehouse- oh, everything stopped. He couldn't hear the dripping of water, and he was sure that was a droplet mid-fall across from him. He hadn't even noticed. Even though the adrenaline wore off minutes ago, the fact that he was dying finally caught up to him. He started to breathe hard and his hands felt especially numb; to the point he was sure she noticed.

How could he be so distracted? The world had stopped and he didn't realize until now. It's probably the reason he's in this situation. He deserved this fate, Bruce probably wouldn't even-

"Bruce will mourn, Jason. And a death such as this one is not one you deserve." How did she- was she in his head?

"How they hell do you know that?"

"Lives like yours are frequently monitored. The neutral, who have done equally good and bad, are not. Kind of like bookmarking, we move on to watch others but make sure to remember you." She was falling out of that proper, airy routine. Jason found it slightly less obnoxious.

"That doesn't explain jack-"

"You started to ramble and hyperventilate and shake and, and I had to do something." She rambled on herself, flustered and looking away, likely out of embarrassment. She even blushed.

Once she calmed her flaming cheeks, she spoke again, "I have come here to comfort you in your last seconds of life."

His amused eyes changed to glaring ones, "I don't need comfort."

"Something I like to do is stick around with mortals who have actively done good or bad. Enough to get them in to the Fields of Reward or the Isle of Penalty." That sounds a lot like what he had learned in Social Studies, the Greek gods and their definition of after life. And if he's right, he could be spending the eternity in with some old minced god or in paradise. Jason didn't know if he wanted to be told his fate.

"...Which am I?" Apparently, his lips weren't in jurisdiction of his already poor impulse control.

"You, Jason Todd, the second Robin, will achieve entry to the Fields of Reward. As all heroes do."

"All heroes?" He's pretty sure no one else in the JL died.

"Heroes, the people who did well for their cause. You are a hero, and you will be remembered as one."

"Aren't the good guys supposed to die will honor, or after retirement? They'd get statues and holidays named after them. I'm just a street rat who got lucky-"

She surprised him by hugging him.

"Um, excuse, me?" Hugs weren't very common in the Wayne household, he could count on three fingers how many times Bruce hugged him.

"As I said before, Jason, you will be mourned and you will be remembered. By your father and your brother. And all else who have been affected in your path." She whispered to him, her weight feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind on his body.

"They are not-"

"We both know you consider them so." Fucking weird pretty angel-gods and their fucking ability to read people-

He was silent. She moved over to his side against the concrete wall and held his hand. He tensed, for a second then calmed himself.

"Are you ready?" She whispered, voice threatening to crack. This was always the worst part. Seeing them die, especially such a good one, so brutally. And the heartbroken looks on their family's faces. She sensed his father nearby, on his vehicle, stuck in place yet still seconds too late.

"...yeah." He answered, just as quiet. He understood that this was it. The death of Jason Todd. At least he'd go out with a bang.

Oh gods, it was way too early to joke about his death.

Time came back to speed, 5 seconds. 4 seconds.

3 seconds.

"They love you, Jason." She said, leaning her head just over his dislocated shoulder.

2 seconds.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She asked.

1 second.

"No."

BOOM!

[angsty-omi]

pull the trigger.

CEO!Akaashi x Agent!Reader

synopsis: You were assigned to kill one of the richest businessmen in Japan, Akaashi Keiji. How? by getting close to him. By pretending to be an innocent, naive little girl. By pretending you actually enjoy his company. By pretending that you actually loved him. The plan was simple enough, and if you were successful, you’d be rich enough to retire for yourself and your future grandchildren. So, what happens when you couldn’t pull the trigger? Even worse, why didn’t he flinch?

“Agent Y/N, you’ve been assigned.” your boss notified.

It’s been so long since you had been assigned. After you accidentally blew up the evidence last mission, your boss hasn’t been to keen depending on you. This was music to your ears, so what did you do? Jumped gleefully and instinctively squeezed your boss. You realized what you were doing and how unprofessional it was, so you slowly latched off of her. Your boss just coughed awkwardly before she began, “This assignment is a big one, meaning there must be no flaws to this plan. One mistake and you’re done for, literally.” ending with a slit-throat gesture. You were confident in your skills, and aside from that one mission, everyone depended on you. No wonder why your boss came to you for this. You glad-fully shook her hand, in which expressed your disparity for a new high.

To start, you had to change your look a bit. See, you researched Akaashi Keiji, from his likes and dislikes to his convictions. Every conviction he got away with money. Dirty bastard. Every single job left you guilt-less because you knew these people were corrupt and somehow reasoned that your job was ethical. First, you started with a trim. Your split ends would’ve definitely caught the eyes of the girls from his front desk. Then, you used the budget money for this mission to buy luxury items. From Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, was this really for the mission or for yourself? No one really knows. Finally, and most importantly, you had to snatch a job as his personal assistant. The organization already falsified documents for you. After today, you go by ‘Akiyama Ami.’ As you walked out of your office, your coworkers couldn’t even recognize you. One even put a gun to your head, and having to state who you are.

You smirked, “Matsuda, I am deeply saddened if this is how you treat your advisor,” whispering in his ear. 

“Senior Y-Y/N?,” he stuttered, putting his gun away immediately. You grabbed his arm and forcefully pushing it to his back, “please make sure you never make that mistake again,” you stated. 

“Y/N, leave him alone already,” a voice joked.

You knew that voice. It was your long time partner, Atsumu. From when you both were rookies, you guys worked cases together quite often. Never more than that. 

“Atsumu, this is my first case without you... aren’t you going to miss me?” you pouted. 

“Don’t give me that look, idiot. Be safe out there okay? I can’t always save your ass like from that time you exploded our only evidence.” he shook his head in disappointment.

You punched his shoulder, and he ‘over-dramatically’ ached in pain. “I’ll be fine, Atsumu. Plus our person literally looks like a prissy privileged boy, doesn’t he?” you pulled up Akaashi’s Business Insider profile. For the next ten minutes, you guys were bullying the hell out of him. Until finally, you had to go. Your cab was already ready for you, so you hugged Atsumu goodbye. Platonically, you always thought you’d get married to him. He was handsome, strong, and witty. And he knew your job situation, so you never would have to feel judgement from him. 

From the cab ride, you got to fly in a private jet. There, was your boss, two intelligent analysis, and a linguist. This was your team, and who’d you tell your intel to. The whole flight consisted of breaking down the plan, even down to what time you have to walk in the elevator. The destination was in Tokyo, where Akaashi’s main headquarters lived. 

“I’ve made an appointment for your job interview,” One of them said.

“Here’s your resume,” The other said.

As you skimmed through, you spit your drink.

“I can speak more than five languages?!” your eyes widened.

“壊れた日本語で話せます” you quoted.

“What does that mean?” your boss asked looking at you surprisingly.

“It means I can only speak broken Japanese,” you nervously scratched your head.

“It wouldn’t matter, the job application is asking for english-speakers” the linguist stated.

As the plane started to screech, due to the wheels contact with concrete, you knew it was your time to shine. You practiced all your lines during the flight, so confidence soared through your body. On sight, there was a limo waiting for you. You waved goodbye to your team, and entered the lanky vehicle. 

The condominium the organization gave you was luxurious, their budget must’ve been high-grade. Broad birched doors, huge window panels that let in a lot of natural light, and a master bedroom. Your first move was to jump on the feather-light bed. Your feet sunk deep into the mattress every hop. Leaving you tired, you went straight to sleep. 

Today was your job interview. Even though everything was fake, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. If you didn’t go down the agency path, is this what you would’ve felt as a normal person? While the coffee was brewing, you decided to look at your grand closet, not knowing what to wear. There was already an outfit set out for you. With it, there was a note:

Good luck! ;) -Atsumu

As you read it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The outfit he picked wasn’t even that bad. It was an emerald green two-piece, with a pale blouse underneath. 

“Not so bad,” you thought, while looking at yourself in the mirror. 

There, stood the building where the infamous person lived worked. Heels tapping the black marble, you stood in front of the front desk. The girls that worked there looked roughly young, around their early 20s. As they stared at you up and down, you could feel their judgement. 

“Welcome to Fukurodani Headquarters, how may we help you?” One girl asked.

“Hi, I’m Akiyama Ami, I’m actually applying for the personal assistant job. Where could I meet my interviewer?” You warmly asked.

The girls bursted into laughter. What was so funny? Did you miss out on the joke?

“Excuse us, its just... that’s one way to call Akaashi Keiji,” 

“Akaashi Keiji... is the interviewer? That’s even more stressful than a random person. It does make sense though, as a personal assistant there should be a close relationship,” you sighed.

“Close relationship? Please, you’ll be lucky if you can even give him coffee. Get in line.” The front desk scoffed in agreement with each other. 

“That’s enough,” a voice commanded.

“Are you Akiyama Aki? I’m ready for you.” 

Your face went pale. As you slowly turned around, there he was. The man himself, Akaashi Keiji. As an agent, you’ve went through strenuous training, so from the outside you looked relaxed as ever, but on the inside the butterflies in your stomach started awakening. He was a very attractive man after all.

“You must be Mr. Akaashi, let’s begin!” you enthusiastically smiled, while following him into his office. 

“So Akiyama, tell me about yourself?” Akaashi read off a list.

“Well I was born in the states, but my parents are foreign. They enforced me to take a lot of language classes, hence why I know quite a lot.” You were dying inside. It was a half-true statement though, you were from the states and your parents are foreign.

“It says you speak French, Aimez-vous boire l'eau des toilettes?” He smirked. 

You had no idea what he just said. The silence was deafening, so you just laughed it off. You’ve been told your laugh is very contagious, so you used that to your benefit. Your laughter increased, his did too. 

After you both calmed down, he continued with his next question, “Out of all of the candidates, why should I hire you?”

“Well I guess my stats match up with everyone else, but what’s not on the textbook is my characteristics. I am dependable, calm, and honestly easy to work with. I will do my best to help you any way I can, and keep your stress levels at ease.” You smiled with confidence. 

“Any way huh?” Akaashi whispered to himself. You acted like you didn’t hear his whisper. As an agent it was also one of your many talents to keep an ear out for anything. 

“Akiyama, congratulations! you’ve gotten the job.” Akaashi put his hand out.

“R-r-really? That was only two questions” you tilted your head to the side. You could feel his glare as a response.

“Well, thank you anyways! My parents will be pleased.” you gushed as you shook his calloused hands. Parents? Please, more like your boss. You swore you could hear a ‘cha-ching’ sound effect in your head.

Over the next couple of months, you’ve been working under Akaashi. If he was staying up til’ 2 AM at the office, so were you. Continuously brewing coffee, while also printing papers, and keeping him company. 

However, one day the routine changed. Prior to this day, your boss had just kept you up for the next order, so you were extremely tired. During the 2 AM session, your eyes slowly started to drift off, feeling the wave of drowsiness pound into your head. Akaashi walked into your office and was going to ask you for copies, until he saw you sleeping head down on your desk. At first, he was going to viciously shake you awake, but seeing your dainty face in the moonlight he couldn’t bring himself to. This was the first time he saw you vulnerable. Typically, when he would ask if you were tired, you would just shake it off with a bright smile. However, he knew. He could tell that you were pushing for him. So, he draped over his blazer around you, in hopes to insulate some warmth and went back to his office. Minutes later, you jerked yourself awake. You felt a strange piece of clothing around you, so you pinched at it while analyzing. Does it look like a weapon? No. Does it have any toxins? No. Could this harm you in any way, shape, or form? It honestly just looked like a plain blazer you thought. As you checked the shoulder pocket, there was an ID. 

“Akaashi’s jacket huh?” you said to yourself, not even noticing the smile that crept up on your face. As soon as you caught yourself, you immediately slapped your face. Oh no. Quickly, you sent a picture of the ID, so that the agency can create a replica for future secret documents and shoved it back inside. 

Knocking at the entrance to his office, he looked up at you with bagged eyes. His sleepiness radiated off of him, so you did what you promised on the first day-- relieve his stress levels. You pulled down the shutters of his clear office so no one could look in. In addition, setting up the couch to where there was a pull up bed under it.

“Miss Akiyama, if you’re trying to seduce me you could’ve just said so,” He flirtatiously grinned. You rolled your eyes in response, and grabbed him to the bed.

“I like where this is going, Ami, I didn’t think you were so bold.”

“Just shut up and get some rest, I’ll appoint some things out so your projects aren’t due.”

As he opened his mouth, you anticipated that he was for sure going to deny. However, no words came out of his mouth, instead he grabbed your wrists and pulled you onto the bed with him. 

“I’ll accept, on the conditions that you, too get some rest.”

Too tired to argue, you complied. As you both fell asleep, with his arms wrapped around you.

a/n: i was planning on making this a one shot but i feel like this might be a multiple part-er(?)