#scared of student loans to be okay with me doing it)

[astriiformes]

.

[badolmen]

“I don’t know why the op said this happened yesterday when this news is four months old”

This may shock you but it’s an election year in the US and even “the lesser evil” utilizes propaganda.

[veganhamsalad]

Idk guys I won’t upend my life but if he doesn’t hear me out on this idk what I’ll do

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part four

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: fighting for my LIFE trying to sort out my student loans rn. also i'm sick. butttt i did just finally get my hands on hogwarts legacy so that's eating up all my time. anyway that's a small update on my life.

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

three months earlier

"You could write her a song." Clemensia suggests with a shrug, tapping her pen against the inkwell, hardly looking up from it.

Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. "Don't mock me, Clemmie. I'm serious."

"So am I!" She laughs, facing her palms up against the table and looking across at him now. "She likes music, it's like, the only thing she likes. It would make her happy, I'd bet. Is that not the whole point?"

In the face of something so juvenile as asking his best friend to go to their graduation gala together, Coryo is stumbling. You were his best friend, yes, he could just outright ask- especially considering nearly everyone had already just assumed that the two of you would be attending together, but something about that didn't sit right with him.

Other girls were getting special things. Flowers, jewelry, notes, and love letters that he had genuinely heard that, on a couple of occasions, brought tears to their eyes. Not that he wanted you to cry, but... He wanted you to feel that he cared. It was important to him that you knew he really cared.

"It is." He grumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay, then-"

"I'm not writing her a song."

Clemensia sighs, rolling her eyes. "It doesn't have to be any good. Maybe it's even better if it's bad! She'd get a good laugh out of it too."

"Yes, and then I'd never live it down." He says, pushing his hair back out of his eyes and trying to put his focus on the assignment they were supposed to be working on. "Besides, I didn't ask for your advice. I don't need it."

"Yes, you do." She insists with a teasing smile, reaching over the table and poking him in the shoulder with her pen. "You wouldn't have told me otherwise. You were just too scared to ask directly."

Coryo lets out a deep breath through his nose, shaking his head in quiet denial, but she can easily make out the pink tinge on his cheeks.

"Coryo, you know she'll say yes no matter what, right?" She adds, her voice softer this time.

"That's not... that's not what I'm worried about. Necessarily, I mean."

"Ah." Clemensia hums in response, taking the end of her ink pen between her teeth. "More like... you just don't want her to get the impression that she was a last resort?"

"She's not." He defends quickly.

She raises her hands defensively, a short and quiet laugh falling from her lips in the library. "I know. I know that. I'm just clarifying that you don't want her to get that impression."

When he doesn't respond, pretending to pour all his focus into taking notes again, Clemensia lets out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know, just ask her. She knows you well enough that I really don't think it matters. Just... when's the next time you're hanging out?"

"Not sure." He mumbles, scribbling down some notes that he knows are hardly legible.

"Well, what about after class today? See if she wants to go get coffee or something."

"She's coaching until seven."

"Tomorrow?"

"Rehearsals."

Clemensia lets out a huff. "This weeken-"

"Orchestra practice." He cuts her off this time.

"Panem that girl is busy." She sighs. "How does she even have any friends at all?"

"We make time." He shrugs nonchalantly, as if it didn't bother him that he hardly ever saw his best friend this late in the academic year. That was common for you, though. Usually come summer and fall you had more free time to share with him. And he was happy to wait- it wasn't like he didn't get busy during exam seasons too.

"Okay, well, now is the time to 'make time'." She exclaims sternly, leaning closer across the table and lowering her voice to a whisper. "Because I heard rumours that Sejanus Plinth was intending on asking her, and you and I both know that she is far too kind to say no. Even if he is District."

Coriolanus' jaw tenses at that and he grips his pen just a little bit harder. "Have you done question fifteen yet?"

He had already been thinking about that for weeks, and he would torture himself for another week before he finally took Clemensia's advice and "made time".

You had seen him since that conversation he had had with Clemmie, but that didn't mean he could ever get himself to actually bring up graduation outside of asking you casually if anyone had asked you yet. To which, the answer was always an unbothered "no", and a shrug that allowed you to mask the sadness behind your smile.

He didn't exactly "make time", though. His plan was quite the opposite. Knowing you had morning practice, he got to the academy early and shoved the folded up paper in your locker and practically ran down the empty halls to the library. No taking it back now.

'A note? That's so stupid! She's your best friend! Just ask!' His thoughts race at him, but that's exactly why he did it this way. He couldn't back out again now.

"Coryo," Your familiar voice says as you slide into the seat next to him, hair perfectly styled and uniform ironed flat despite the early morning you must have had.

He looks over at you, eyes slightly wide out of nervousness. "Uh, hey... How's, um... How's your morning?" He asks, trying his best to play it casual.

You smile, sliding the folded up piece of paper you had found in your locker back over to him. "Good." You answer, already going about taking out your books. "Yours?"

"Good." He nods, mouth dry as he stares down at the paper, looking between the sheet and you.

Silently, you nod for him to open it, a small smile on your lips.

He hesitates before opening it, the conscious effort it takes to not tremble taking over his nerves.

He curses himself for his own fears about what it would say, blinking a couple times before reading the note.

'Want to go to the grad gala with me? -Coriolanus'

And then in small, flawless handwriting, a swift and smooth print that lacked any hesitation, there was a new line underneath.

'Yes :)'

"I only tried on fifty different dresses to decide on the fit and style of what I wanted." You say with a slight laugh, unzipping the garment bag that held your dress.

Coryo was sitting on your bed, like he often did, hands fidgeting in his lap. Fifty dresses to him seemed unnecessary, certainly you looked just fine in the very first one all the way through to the very last. But he did understand how seriously your family took your dresses, for both your performances and events like the one you would be attending together.

"That's... that's a fair few dresses." He laughs with a small nod, gazing into your closet and away from you for just a moment, trying to get a glimpse at your performance gowns you had stashed in bags and lining the wall. It's a wonder you had room for everything, he knew you had never tossed or re-worn a single one- all large in either sheer poofiness and volume, or bright colours and patterns that drew the eye and held them hostage in your form. Sometimes both. Coryo was never sure if it was the intent to make you look like a princess from a fairytale, but a few times a year he got to see you look just like one. What he imagined them all to be, anyway, when recalling the storybooks his mother read to him and left on the untouched shelves in his should-have-been baby sister's nursery.

"Yes, well, I wanted it to be perfect." You hum, pulling the dress out of the bag and turning to him, holding it up against your chest. "Thoughts?"

Coryo nods in response, swallowing hard. The dress was stunning, and the colour was rich- it would compliment the tones of your skin and hair beautifully. He had very little technical knowledge of fashion, but what had trickled into his mind from Tigris would lead him to believe it would be complimentary to you.

But he had no idea how he would match that.

The last of his father's salvageable dress clothes was that shirt Tigris is working on for the reaping ceremony in a couple of months, and he couldn't possibly wear that twice. If she could even salvage it. Maybe he should ask her to prioritize making it into something that would better match your dress, or just wear it plain white with the black stripes to the gala instead, so he would at least feel worthy of standing at your side. Then he could wear his academy uniform on reaping day, and claim he forgot the occasion. Would that be believable?

No, of course not. That's the day the Plinth Prize will be awarded.

Hopefully to him. Definitely to him, he had to pray. He was never a religious man- no one really was anymore, but reading about it in pre-Panem history textbooks, he couldn't deny the temptation to beg some higher power for help.

The prize would solve everything.

"You like it?" You ask, drawing him from his internal panic and he nods, smiling.

"Yeah, yes. Wow. It's lovely." He nods, clearing his throat.

"Thank you." You grin, looking down at the dress and smoothing it against your leg a bit to try and get another good look at it yourself.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment before hanging it back up. "Anyway, do you want to do like a matching thing, or is that tacky?" You ask, turning to face him again.

Coryo purses his lips in thought, drumming his fingers on his lap. "I'm not sure. Are other people matching?"

You knew about his situation, of course, though he wasn't fond of talking about it. Obviously not, who would be? It never bothered you, at the end of the day he was still your best friend- even if he never let you come over to the renowned Snow penthouse unless it was some kind of emergency. Regardless, as far as the two of you knew, you were the only one outside of his family who had any idea. And you both intended to do everything you could to keep it that way.

"I think so, I heard some of the other girls talking about it." You say with a shrug. "Just something simple like a matching tie or something, we don't have to go crazy with it."

"Right." He nods, thinking it over.

"Here," You say after a moment, reaching into the bottom of the garment bag and pulling out a much smaller plastic bag with fabric samples in it from when your dress was made. "I asked for more extra than they would normally give for fabric samples, in case we wanted to match. I was hoping we could ask Tigris to make a tie or a pocket square or something, or maybe cover your cuffs with it." You suggest, sitting on the bed next to him and holding out the bag.

His heart aches as he reaches out to take it from your soft hands. It's hard to place, almost- whether or not it's gratefulness or loathing of the fact you had considered such a thing at all. Attending an event with a Snow should not include the accommodation of whether or not they could afford to dress accordingly.

The bitterness fades and settles into thankfulness for you, and all you do for him. Silently. Without discussion, without real, significant thought.

You could be friends with anyone; the girls with wealth enough to bathe in like your own, Sejanus Plinth, even, whose family quite literally bought their way into the Capitol. But you chose him.

Granted, when you chose him, you didn't have the slightest clue of the financial state of his family name, but even when you had stumbled across that fact, it didn't deter you. Coriolanus often wonders why, but who was he to question it? Hell, sometimes he wonders if the roles had been reversed, would he have been so gracious?

"Thanks." Coryo mutters, clearing his throat and nodding. "I mean, she's the expert, so I'll talk to her about what she thinks will work best."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You agree with a soft laugh that makes him smile by instinct alone. He couldn't help it.

"Um, I meant to ask," Coryo says after a moment, tucking his feet up on the bed and sitting back a bit, getting more comfortable. "Did your coach agree to let you change your song for the year end gala? The one you pitched to her, that was really good. You did amazing. At least, in my opinion but I don't really know what I'm talking about."

"Thank you." You reply through a sigh, laughing slightly as you flop back on the soft cushioned duvet next to him. "But, yes and no. Yes she's letting me do something other than 'Never Enough', but it's not that song I showed her while you were there. She said it was too long and would disrupt the entire schedule, which, in hindsight does make sense and I wouldn't want to do that to everyone else."

"Well, what is it?" Coryo replies, eager to hear something new from you. It was special, he knew that it was. He had seen first hand how badly you wanted to do something else.

You smile, looking up at him as he leaned back on his hands next to you, blue eyes searching yours as if they could somehow portray the answer sooner than your lips- despite you knowing it would be a song he's never heard or even heard of before.

"I decided on something else. It's gonna be a surprise." You answer with a small, almost sly smile while you prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing up at him with your chin in your palm. "But you're gonna love it, I think."

You really hoped he would, at least.

While Coryo protests, tries to squeeze the information out of you in the light-hearted way only a best friend could, you don't budge. The song in title and content reminds you far too much of him; of his pretty face, and electric soul.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[madelyncilne]

Hi, everyone. I’m sure everyone is sick of the ‘I don’t usually make posts like this’ posts, but I actually don’t tend to make posts like this. To cut a very long story short, and without going into too much personal detail, my mum is recovering from a health scare that took place over the weekend to do with her heart. Because of this, my parents (who are both retired and don’t work, so there’s not a lot of monthly income – my mum sometimes picks up examiner jobs but they’re not a lot, and my dad hasn’t worked due to poor health in a few years now) have had to cancel a few non-refundable trips that they had planned (an anniversary and a getaway that was booked months prior to this happening). I’m very grateful to be able to hold a stable job, but due to this happening, I’m not entirely planning on going back to work so I can get some money to hold me down with student loans, extra rent money, etc. until my mum is at least able to get back to the basics (such as drive, lift above her head, and things that I’d probably take for granted in the long run) and she’s not relying on my dad for things, where I can help out a little bit.

Now, this is a very long winded way of saying, until I know that she is okay (enough where I’m able to go back to work part-time, then back to full-time until my schools semester rolls around) my ko-fi is available, but I never want to ask people for money without something in return. That’s why I’m starting to offer two extra commission slots, for a total of seven, until I can garner a little bit of money to help my parents out the best I can while we navigate this. All of the information will be over on my commissions blog, @sebegifs, and in the source link, where I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions, concerns, etc. but until then, thank you. A reblog/boost would help this entirely, but you’re not inclined to at all. All I can say is thank you for reading, and that I’m very appreciative of anyone who takes notice of this post at all. 

Again, thank you :) It means a lot!

[thecursivej]

Live Reactions Harris vs. Trump pt. 1 of ??

Oh this is very, VERY, debate-y.

DAMN HE SCARED! Cowering while Kamala is like "Hiiii"

Did David Muir just say it was Kamala and Trump were elected 4 years ago? Weird

Ope, looks like Donny is already struggling to stay awake.

Definitely doing better than Biden did. It seems she's been practicing impromptu speaking (slay).

Okay... but are we better than we were four years ago? (I personally say yes, but the american people need to see you answering this question).

LMAO not trump giving the lil' nod at "he's gonna do what he's done before"

Already very respectful, very straightforward, great connection to the camera (and in turn the audience through the camera).

Donald...Tarrifs end up hurting people because they raise the....SALES TAX. Ayiyiyi.

Damn, already blaming immigration.

Trump brought up African American jobs and fucking Kamala looks like she wanted to cackle.

LOOK AT HER FLOOOOW (if you're a debate kid/coach, you know)

He's so upset, because he knows she's spitting the truth.

Welp, jan 6th very passively mentioned; mark your bingo cards.

Damn, great rebuttals from Harris. Trump isn't event really rebutting.

BIDEN MENTIONED. MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS.

Have...have you looked at her plans? Donny boy?

THANK YOU DAVID MUIR FOR PRESSING; HELL FUCKING YEAH.

...bruther you do not understand the economy. What the fuckeroni and cheese are you saying?

My ass is mirroring Kamala's expression before the camera even shows her.

Yeah, call his ass out Kamala. Call his ass out. But also pls answer the question; why we keeping them tarrifs?

Okay so, if you've got "someone doesn't answer the question" go ahead and mark that shit if you haven't.

I love Harris just being like "Bro what the fuckeroni and cheese is this?"

MARK HARRIS LAUGHS, GOOD FOR HER.

LMAO That Marxist reaction is AMAZING.

OPE, ABORTION, HERE WE GO BESTIES.

WHO THE FUCK IS ABORTING A CHILD AT NINE MONTHS!? That is murder, not abortion.

LMAO Tim being out of it?

WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY SAYING THIS SHIT!? Yeah, no, making up bullshit right now.

....Does Trump know what Roe even is?

Each state that's voted for abortion to be in their state's constitution HAS VOTED YES AND ENSHRINED IT. WE DIDN'T NEED TO OVERTURN ROE YOU DUMBASS.

THANK YOU FOR THE CLARIFICATION THAT YOU CANNOT AND NOWHERE IN THE U.S. IS IT LEGAL TO KILL A CHILD ONCE IT'S BEEN BORN HELLO!?

Great job with the response, Kamala. Truly, a wonderful response. ESPECIALLY calling on religious differences and faiths.

Girl her use of rhetorical questions is just so... so... GOOD. As a public speaking professor, this shit slaps.

PROJECT 2025 MENTIONED, MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS

I'm about to molly-whop Donny boy (spiritually in my heart pls leave me tf alone FBI)

Bruther your actions speak louder than their words.

IMPOSSIBLE!? HELLO!? Nah dawg, never tell me the odds.

Ope, student loans mentioned, mark your bingo cards.

HELL YEAH PUSH FOR THAT YES/NO!!!!

Annnnd no yes/no. Not worth it.

MMMMHMMM YOU TELL THAT ORANGE CHEETO PUFF THAT NO ONE IS ASKING FOR THEIR NINE MONTH OLD CHILD TO BE MERKED.

Kamala did answer the question; she would support reinstating all the protections from Roe v. Wade.... but as we see that isn't enough. There needs to be a clear outline of what to do.

NOPE YOU DON'T GET TO RESPOND CUT THE FUCKING MIC ABC

Welp I've got a bingo already, 26 minutes in...holy fuckeroni and cheese.

WW3 mentioned

Once again, no answer from 45.

Welp, here he goes continuing to peddle the false info about Haitian immigrants (who did legally immigrate here) eating people's pets; which the Mayor and PD have DEBUNKED. Fucking wild

I love that Kamala looks so fucking concerned for his brain.

LMAO LOVE DAVID MUIR CLAPPING BACK AT TRUMP

PFFFTTTT "I heard it from people on TV" BITCH WHAT!?

I love Harris just giggling at the absurdity.

I feel like the only noise in Donny's head right now is the AOL startup noises.

God... I'm so fucking done with his bullshit and we're only 34 minutes in.

What's hysterical is the Biden admin KEPT Trump's immigration policies... bruther. The fuck?

Here he goes again about migrant-crime

SLAY TO DAVID MUIR CORRECTING SHIT AGAIN

Can we just cut his fucking mic already?

CONVICT MENTIONED MARK YOUR BINGO CARDS!

I am fucking cackling.

Mmmm good use of rhetoric, Kamala. Good job.

Kamala looks so done with this bullshit. If I was up there debating, I'd have written down "what the fuck is this fucker saying?"

Democracy mentioned

CUT OFF HIS MICCCCCC

Slay to Lindsey asking the hard questions.

Mmmm, good job focusing in on fracking since she's in Pennsylvania....BUT ALSO FUCK FRACKING....But also yeah we do need various forms of energy...BUT NOT AT THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE PLANET PLEASE.

"I was given a small loan of a million dollars" dawg... that's not small....

Oh fuck off Trump, you get to talk while she talks? But when she does? You're so angry? Fuck off.

CUT THE MIC FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST JESUS

Jesus christ he goes over time just fucking cut off the damn mic.

He definitely isn't gonna answer about Jan 6. He's just gonna deny deny deny. "I think IT'S gonna be big" BITCH!?

I'm so sick of this shit already.

MMM GOOD ON KAMALA CALLING OUT THE BLOODBATH COMMENTS. HOLD HIM TO IT GIRL.

Legit fuck off Donny. You're not fooling anyone.

....Named two fox news hosts....not very reliable motherfucker.

He knows he's losing when he says "let's leave this debate right now"

BRUTHER HE ISN'T PRESIDENT.

Mark "random personal attack" for biden.

CUT HIS MIC, DAVID, DAMN.

DAMN STRAIGHT YOU LOST FUCKO.

"Fired by 81 million people" GIRL ATE. AND READ. BECAUSE READING IS FUNDEMENTALLY.

Y'all I am maniacally cackling at the way he's getting roasted as hell.

VICTOR ORBEL?! WE GONNA FOCUS ON THAT FACIST HURTING HIS OWN COUNTRY!?

Jesus just cut the mics. Lord almighty.

Oh here we go; Israel and Hamas... this should be interesting (for anyone worried; I am Pro Palestine through and through; fuck Benjamin Netanyahu)

So Kamala's main phrase is "Let's look at how we got here"

We have to be freedom for Palestine; but if we don't cut off Bibi? Then they will destroy all of Palestine so we won't get a two state solution, Kamala. For fuck's sake, they (IDF) killed an American protesting in Israel.

Why...are we talking about Ukraine right now? Hello?

This would absolutely have happened under Trump and with his anti-semitism? It probably would've been worse.

Weird fucking compliment to ABC from Donny, that ain't gonna help tho.

Ayiyiyi.

WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT UKRAINE?!

Already, that's it for this part, go get a snack and water, I need to scream into the void. BRB

[tehriel]

Commissioned (Terzo x Reader x Sodo)

It is completely finished!

Blurb

Reader is afab nonbinary.

Against your better judgment, you take on a portrait commission with suspicious beginnings. You are an atheist thrust into the world of Satanism as you meet and paint for the earth's most charming antipope. Will you walk away with your worldview untainted? Or will your little chats with Papa Emeritus the Third leave you changed forever? And what of his ghouls~? —Who is that in your motel window your first night in town?

This fic likes cheeky banter, discourse and character driven plot. It's an extremely slow burn featuring Terzo, Sodo—and a little Swiss. It’s about 110k words to get lost in~

You can find the piece here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44321002/chapters/111461152

Below is the first chapter! I hope you like it :3

Chapter 1 - A message from the clergy

[Message from the clergy]

Dear ______

I am writing regarding a one-on-one portrait our clergy would like to commission. I am attaching a calendar. Would these dates suit you?

In his name,

Sister Imperator

Ahoy!

Sister Imperator, thank you for your interest in my work. I have attached a pricing sheet. If pricing is okay with you, then we talk about dates.

-_______

[Message from the clergy]

Dear ______

We have seen your work, and we want you regardless of cost. Do any of these dates suffice?

In his name,

Sister Imperator

Thank you for getting back to me so promptly, Sister.

I recently had my schedule cleared, actually. Any of those dates should suffice. Depending on size, I will need two to four separate sessions with the model, rounding up to about 10 hours for a small piece going upwards of 18 hours in person for bigger. It's all in my pricing guide.

If it is interstate, I will need lodging. It is my personal preference that I do not stay with you in your home, of course. And finally, I would like half up front and half once the painting is completed.

If these conditions meet your expectations, I have attached my contract.

-_______

[Message from the clergy]

Dear _____

We look forward to meeting you at the Mountview Cathedral next week.

In his name,

Sister Imperator

***

Fuck. It was a drive. It was a whole long ass drive with hours to contemplate just how many red flags you ignored in taking the job. It’s not like you had a choice; you needed the pay. You didn't want to admit it, but you also needed to get out of state.

‘Sister Imperator’ had been weirdly pushy and lightning quick to respond—you had to hard ignore the alarm bells ringing. It was difficult, almost as if your right ear had developed tinnitus as some physical manifestation of alarm. There was a low tuning-fork hum reading over each email.

You thought you might scare the sister off with your prices; most people saw your work online and how effortless it seems in your time-lapse videos and happily told you to go to hell after seeing your prices. Making those videos look effortless took a lot of time, practice, student loans and editing. Then there were the travel expenses. People just don't do sit-in portraiture anymore. And for a good reason, you would have to be a little insane to pick it up.

Most people had you paint from photos, which was fine and a staple for your income. But meeting a person and painting them, knowing a facade of them, and there are many facades to a person—just hit differently. And the job came with such an eccentric clientele; you'd painted a man who wanted to pose in a suit made of squirrels, a woman and her five Pekingese all in matching attire. Once, your commission was gifted to an old person to be painted amongst the forest they had saved. They had wanted to be seen as a fairy. It was beautiful. That all seemed so far away now.

You glanced at a sticker pasted in the window of the gas station. It was going to be one of those kinds of towns. It read, ‘they will rise again.’ Crucifix and all. You adjusted the enamel pronouns pin on your lapel. Both the sticker and your pin said ‘they’; maybe these people would be open-minded kind of rise again.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I use the key to your bathroom? The door said to ask,” your voice came out shitty and meek. You were just tired.

“Rightio,” the gas attendant was an older man. He was chewing something—surely not tobacco. He passed over the key; it had a hefty wooden tag to save anyone from making off with it. “You got gas?”

“Uh yeah, number 3, thanks.” You put the key in your pocket and felt his eyes dip to your chest.

“Oh.” He said, as in, ‘oh, you’re one of those’. So it would be like that. “Here you are. Gas is on me, kid.”

Or maybe it wouldn’t be like that? Nope, he handed you a pamphlet that said ‘Mountview holy trinity’. “Oh.” You said, as in, ‘oh, you’re giving me a pamphlet on a religion that could probably hate me.’ “Thank you very much—I am actually painting for a church in town, so that’s..” you didn’t need to tell him your whole thing, but you had, and you were.

“Not that damned cathedral,” he eyed you warily.

“No, I don’t think so, no….” you waved off. Yes, that one, whatever that meant. You knew Catholics and Christians were not really into each other, but you’d thought most of the vitriol had been lost to history. Then again, you were beginning to think this town might have been stuck in history, like a mosquito in amber. You watched him chew. “Cool, I’ll, uh, see about this.” You pointed to the key. “Thank you again for the gas.”

The worst part of the entire interaction was coming back to him after your stop to the bathroom. You had to return the key and inform him that someone had overflowed the toilet.

***

You had to tilt your head to take in all of the cathedral. Something was off about it; maybe it was darker than you were used to, most cathedrals were gothic, but this was gothic in italics. It was jagged and waiting.. for something. Or maybe there was something off about all churches with inflated infrastructure. Maybe you should have 'inflated’ your prices. You binned the thought as soon as you had it; money and asking for it… made your skin crawl sometimes. The pricing sheet asked for the money for you, so you did not have to.

You rubbed your right ear as it had decided to start ringing again.

“You must be ______,” came a call from the entrance while you were wrapped in the tallness of it all. She was an older woman, her hair greying and pulled back. She had the shape of a kindly woman but with something cold creeping into her smile.

You felt your car keys in your hand. You could still deny your name and drive as many hours as it took to return home. You could shake a pride flag at the church’s face and run for the hills. You squeezed the keys for grounding before slowly delivering them to your pocket. “I am,” you heard yourself say. It'd been a while since you used your voice; why did you think it would be deeper? Commanding? Noticeable. You cleared your throat. “Yes, are you Sister…” fuck, you had forgotten her name from the emails. Super professional of you.

“Sister Imperator, yes, it's a pleasure to meet you. Come, follow me; I'll take you to Papa.”

You were about to thumb over to your shitty van where all your supplies were hiding, 'I need to set up, where can I…’ and/or 'I've been driving for hours and would like to know where I'm staying so that I can freshen up,’ all died in your throat as the woman turned around. You had no choice but to follow her into the building.

“Is ‘Papa’ the person whom I will be painting?” You asked, catching up, absently shining the ‘they/them’ pin on your overalls. Saying ‘Papa’ as a full-grown human being clenched something within you—and not in a super good way.

“Yes, Papa Emeritus the third, he ascended to the ranks of Papa as of last year and has not yet had a portrait painted for the hall.”

You heard most of what she had said, only then noting the Italian accent. You admittedly spent more of your time openly gawking at the ceiling, then gawking at the stained glass windows and the paintings. Did they have the right painter? You had confidence in your work, but these were named artists, named. Masterworks. You made a ‘ffff’ fizzling sound as you held back swearing in a holy place.

Holy place. The iconography only then caught up with you. That was a lot of cloven hooves for a holy place. “That's nice,” is all you thought to say faintly. ‘That's nice he ascended to the highest of high unholy ranks, good for that guy.’ A kind of peace came with the satanic-ness of it all. At least you could flap all your favourite pride flags, and no one would bat an eye. Would they?

“Yes, I understand our ways might not be for everyone, but I hope you will give him your utmost respect, regardless.”

Your head snapped back from scrutinising passing satanic depictions for signs of gayness. “I am always professional regarding belief systems; it will not affect the outcome of my work.” ‘Unless you somehow turn out to be a nazi,’ You added silently.

“Good, good.” She seemed to smile genuinely before the cold crept back into her face, sending a chill to your spine, “This is his office here. He knows to expect you. I hope together you'll make something beautiful for our church.”

Why did everything she had to say creep you out like that? “I will do my best to do that,” you nodded and held yourself back from using a thumbs-up to secure the awkwardness.

“I will find you before our mass to give you the directions to your motel,” she nodded and began walking away. “Again, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

You could read people well; maybe she couldn't. You were shitting yourself, being left in the dead centre of an unknown church, about to bother the head of the said church, without backup. “Pleasure meeting you right back,” you grinned nonetheless with your super normal situation. It's called masking, baby~

Her clipped footsteps began disappearing down the stone-tiled hallway. When silence fell, you could really take in the surrounding church ambience. Yep, it was a church. The incense smelt of something in your childhood. The eyes of statues and portraits looked down on you as if they knew you were not supposed to be there.

You blinked at the aged wooden door; it was detailed with a plaque that read ‘Papa Emeritus III’. This was the most uncomfortable opening commission you've ever been through, and one guy wanted to show off his dead arachnid collection to you. Maybe it was more of a tie then? You swore quietly to yourself before you knocked on the door. The hollow knuckle-on-wood sound gave you flashbacks of a principal's office.

“Not on a mass night,” came a slow answer and a slight groan.

You folded your arms and frowned at what that could mean. Outwardly you looked like a person annoyed by the woodgrain of a door.

“I feel you judging me, Sister,” his voice was an ashy sound. “My days before mass are my own, si?”

What does an unholy minister do a day before mass? Some search answers in your mind come up lewd, and others come up sadistic. You look up and down the hallway for Sister Imperator. Then and there, you were a child lost in a supermarket. You sighed softly and remembered you were an adult in an adult situation. “Sorry, I'm an artist—your, uh, Sister said you were expecting me.”

“You’re sorry you’re an artist?” Came the voice on the other side of the door.

“Eh, I have my days,” you shrug.

The ashy voice on the over side of the wood seemed to enjoy that, with a huff of laughter.

He had a nice laugh, smoky. Maybe painting this ‘Papa’ guy wouldn’t be so bad.

“Give me but a moment, artist. I have to make myself, eh, decent.”

Lewd. Definitely lewd; that's what satanic priests do before mass. “Oh, sure, good. Yep.” You stepped far away from the door to give him privacy. “Take uh, your time.” You did not feel like painting someone half way through the job. Standing so long for a painting while being irritable and unsatisfied does not a good portrait make.

You turned on your heel. You went for your AirPods, played something thrashy to mimic the surroundings, and began treating the area as you would a gallery. Ahead you saw the dancing sunshine of windswept branches through stained glass. You stepped into the light and let the colours paint you in rainbows. The lead lighting portrayed an angelic person with arms around a small boy. It could have passed for any religion—save for the smeared Latin and small horns on the child’s forehead.

“Are you supposed to be here?”

“Cheezus, chrimany!” You flinched, pulling a bud from your ear. A shorter masculine figure had suddenly appeared in your peripherals. His voice was marred by the fabric and metallic devil’s mask he wore. The mask must have been a church thing—were you supposed to be masked?

The green eyes behind the mask squinted in amusement.

“Were you just waiting to do that or..?”

He shook his head innocently, “are you supposed to be here?” He asked again.

“I really don’t know at this stage, is anyone supposed to be anywhere?” You pulled a straight face, and he tilted his head slightly, “I’m painting a ‘Papa’(?) or supposed to be. You're not him, right?”

The figure dressed formally in all black and suspenders shook his head slowly. He had a lean figure, kind of like a short, straight stick. It was a nice stick.

You appreciated him for a moment, figuring out his shapes and lines before you realised what you were doing and grimaced to yourself. You did that often. Intimidated by the shiny mask, you hid in humour, “And you,” you gesture around, “you supposed to be here? If not, I could keep a secret,” you winked and tried to be playful.

“I am supposed to be here,” he answered, not entirely playing into your shenanigans.

“Ah,” you nod sagely. You looked around, realising your new companion wanted to stay and watch you. “So this you then?” You point at the horned baby in the led lighting and back to his horned mask.

He smiled then, not that you could see his lips, only hear it in his, “no.”

“Oh?” You arch a brow and point to the blackened scripture, “says right here, this be the baby who would sneak up on people admiring its own depiction.” You tapped the glass like you knew what you were talking about. As if you were not just wasting time. As if you weren’t waiting for your satanic portrait model to finish fucking maybe nine people in the room down the hall.

The devil saddled closer to you with a sly look, “So you read the dead language?”

“It's not dead; it's right there.”

He huffed slightly. “What is your name? For the registry.”

“I was supposed to sign in?” You frowned.

“You were signed in, whether you know it or not, which means you're protected while you're here.”

Protected from…? You bit your lips together; why did he seem more sinister than before? “_____ ______,” you replied, trying to read what lay beyond the mask. “And yours? Something in the old language? Something with no vowels and a couple hissing noises?”

“Sodomiser,” there was a slight growl in his throat.

You nodded profoundly, “Oh, like, you just put that right out there, huh?” That was like calling yourself by your kinks, ‘hey, I'm buttstuff’ or ‘hey, I'm one of those pink flamingos you find on front lawns.’ Could happen. “Did I pass your registration, uh, Mr Sodomiser?”

The red light of the window glinted in the mask as he nodded, and you were suddenly captivated by the reflection. It would be interesting to paint, but the lighting was fleeting. Taking that moment in paint would be impossible. And you were then aware of how close he lingered; if he wasn't wearing a mask, would you have let him so close? He seemed to want to scare you, and you weren't impenetrable, but masks didn't scare you. It was what lay underneath that was genuinely terrifying. Wait, was he sniffing you? “Call me Sodo.”

“Can do,” you rapidly turned back to the window and shoved your hands back into your overalls, suddenly self-conscious about how a drive like that would leave you smelling. “Uh, am I supposed to be wearing one of those?” You figured to ask while watching the leaves shift in the wind before gesturing to where his mask had been moments ago but was then missing. You looked around curiously; the guy had just… vanished.

“Ah, you must be my eh, little painter,” came a voice through a mist of incense from down the hall. “Sorry about that… uhh…” he ended up shrugging.

“Oh.” Was all you had to say. As in, ‘‘oh’, that's what a Papa of a satanic clergy looks like.’ He was not much taller than the masked man that had just left you, but the popey hat did lend to height. He was dressed rather popey all over, with a long, dark cloak patterned religiously. He had a simplistic skull face paint; it was fresh, and you could only imagine how it looked moments ago. “Yes, I'm ______.” You offered a professional handshake—people liked those.

“I'm Papa Emeritus, the congregation calls me Papa, so please, call me Papa.” He took your hand in his in a way you weren't expecting, lifting it to his lips. You only then noticed his heterochromia as he captured your eyes in his, one eye stark white and the other shifted green to hazel in the rainbow bath of the window.

“Oh, okay,” not missing a beat, you took his leather-clad hand and bowed to kiss the back of it.

He lightly cocked his head as you returned his hand back to him.

“Thought we were just…people don’t return the kiss?”

“No, not usually.”

You nod slowly, “it doesn't seem fair though. Was it… nice anyway? Or are you more give than take? I'm sorry, I'm not sure how to act. I've done religious portraiture, sure, but….”

“Does our church scare you?” He raised his chin and bored into you with his white iris. “It’s not often Sister looks outside the congregation for hire.” His Italian accent brought a musicality to his words.

“Scared? Not really, but you seem….” You gestured around, “like a Pope? Like a lot bigger of a deal than I am qualified for. That’s a big deal,” you point to the elaborate painting your painting would supposedly share a wall with, “that looks like a huge deal,” you address the window. “Just look how I talk, that’s not really.. this..” you floundered with your hands again.

“Big deal, eh?” He relaxed and shrugged a little, “Sister usually knows what she likes, and she likes you, but you are correct; this is a huge deal,” some of his words sounded like growls. It wasn’t temperament, it was animal. His robes billowed as he stepped to take in the stained glass beside you, “do you know the story of Archon the fallen?”

You shook your head and looked up into the eyes of the angel. You couldn't place gender upon them, which was comforting somehow.

“It is said that after the bible age, prophets became obsolete. Who would believe them after all, hum?” He raised a brow at you, his hands clasped behind his back.

You looked away shyly; you didn't mean to oppose his belief system, but you don't get to choose what you believe in, and for you, it was nothing.

“We have newer stories from a war waged between heaven and hell in the after. In this one, the archangel Archon fell to protect what hell believed would be their next weapon. A prince of hell. Atmos.”

“Weapon… That’s a kid.”

Papa Emeritus smiled slightly, “Archon felt the same; as a testament to free will above all else, Archon saw the child their people were fighting to kill and found him blameless. The child was yet to be any kind of weapon. Archon believed no one decides our future so they saved and hid Atmos. Granted him free will to become a weapon or not, and for it, their wings were stripped. Archon stands for the ultimate rebellion, that fate is a lie.” He growled the word ‘lie’ in a way that ran through your gut.

“Mmm, that doesn't seem so scary,” you said softly, looking into the angel’s face for a new perspective.

Papa turned, and you shared a look. You saw a shimmer of the facade you would paint.

Then you blinked, “but I somehow have to create a painting that can share a wall with that.” you flailed a hand at only the most incredible stained glass window ever.

“I am telling you, if Sister thinks you are able, you are more than able. Come, I know a place where you can set up.”

***

“So how would you like to be seen, P-papa?” you stumbled with his name because, honestly, it didn't want to come out of your lips.

His makeup skewed as he quirked his brow at your slip-up. You’d already had him move through poses and had taken photos for him to see. Your mirror was set up, your canvas… The room you were set into was a study—you think. There was a desk, an eclectic collection of skulls and bones, bookcases and an ornate chair. Taken from behind the desk, the chair was something akin to a throne.

“I am unsure what you mean, caro Pittore.” He leaned against the desk beside you and was peering at your phone. He seemed to know how to pose for a picture, but a painting was different; you had to be comfortable with no intricate hand gestures you could not hold for hours. Definitely no arms out.

“Suppose it's for your clergy. How do you want them to see you, powerful, infallible?” You skip past photos taken early on where it seemed he wanted to claw at you through the camera with the golden-tipped fingernails attached to every finger of his leather gloves.

“A storyteller?” you asked simultaneously as he said, “fuckable.”

“What did you say?” He asked.

“I said storyteller, you told me a story out there, I know it's not your whole being, but it's the facade I have of you, and it was nice… I think I know what you said, but run that by me again.”

“I said, fuckable,” he admitted, “inviting, you know? This is a house of sin, si? I want to invite sin.”

You slowly looked up at him from your phone. And blinked. “You want me to paint you a calling card?”

He smiled slowly. “Non?” He said in a particular way that meant he very much wanted you to paint a calling card.

“I can do it,” you suppose, “now how fuckable are we going? I've painted boudoir before, never a religious figure but, first time for everything.” You sat upon the throne and made a boudoir pose. “oh, or this…” you showed off your buns riding the throne backward and looking back at the mirror in your super attractive stained overalls. “Ooo, ahhh, so fabulous.”

“Okay, okay, I see,” Papa chuckled. “Take a couple steps back, a storyteller, huh? You said it is a facade? I’ve been called alotta things, but not storyteller. Books are more the cardinals thing.”

You stop posing, “Yeah, it comes with the job, right? You stand up before mass and tell a proverb, tell what you see in it, add a dash of charisma, and make it alluring; I can’t paint all of you; of course, I can only paint what I see. People are diamonds, multifaceted; this will be one facet or façade—of you.” And you had just gone on a passion rant in front of a new client. You internally grimaced.

He looked into the middle distance in ponder before responding, “I like alluring,” he admitted.

You realised you were just putting on your usual act for your client to make them feel at ease in the space, but he was really looking at you. You realised how you were sitting, realised the silence and moved more meekly away from the throne. “Then take a seat, Papa; make sure you're comfortable.” His eyes were on yours as he passed. His warm shoulder slightly brushed yours as he took his throne. At first, he was just sitting, then looking in the mirror, he arranged his robes, shifting his legs apart to rest a hand on his thigh and lean back in his chair.

“What do you think, caro pittore? Does it say, eh, let Papa tell you a story? Is it alluring? Hmm?”

You felt your ears go pink, “Yes, all of those, but this hand,” the one not welcoming the viewer to his thigh, “it's not really—” He touched it to his chin, and you shook your head, then he touched a finger to his mouth, “still… oooo, skull.” You hurried over and picked up a very human skull. “Something with this.” You passed it over, and he held it in one palm. “Oh, I saw this piece on Pinterest where there was a rosary coming out of it, not that we have to physically do that; I can add that later. But it means I can draw attention to your… ‘not-crucifix’(?)”

“Grucifix,” he quietly corrected, eyes following you around the room as you inspected for props.

“Oh, you learn something new every day… uh, is this important?” Sat on a tall bookshelf was a helmet like the one the man in the hallway had been wearing. You shifted a wall-riding ladder to get a better look.

“It's one of the masks our ghouls wear.”

“Does it seem like something you want to be portrayed with?” You moved your head to watch the sheen before taking it down towards Papa. You wanted to paint the colours of the stained glass window in it.

“I know what to do with it,” You were hyper-aware of his movements as he took his hand away from his thigh and received the mask from you to put it beneath his boot before replacing his hand.

“Uh, not a fan of ‘ghouls’? What are they about anyway? I met…..” you then pulled a straight face knowing what you had to say, “I met ‘Sodo’ in the hallway earlier.”

“I hope he, eh, played nice? I love my ghouls, and sometimes, they love being stepped on. They’re something like the church’s protectors; some help lead our rituals.”

Your brain was left behind when he admitted to stepping on ghouls. “Oh, good. Good, good, good, good, good. Yeah, he played.” You supposed.

“Sodo is… how to put.. eh uno stronzo corto--small and fucking angry,” he laughed sympathetically.

You hadn’t quite got angry from Sodo, maybe a bit cold. You snapped more photos on your phone and were reviewing them when you felt Papa come in close behind to look. He was quite a curious man. For some reason, the incense peeling off his body didn't seem stuffy when it often did for you. You could also smell the leather of his gloves.

“You, uh, like this pose?” He asked about the one your brain decided to stutter on, his voice lower with proximity.

“Yeah,” your voice was faint before returning to yourself, “yes, the background and the lighting just need some adjustment. In the afternoons, we should get some nice lighting through that window; I'll bring some diffusers.. maybe something coloured to mimic the stained glass outside.” You looked up and found him staring at you with his mismatched eyes.

You paused.

He paused.

“I should…”

“You should…”

You weren't about to be caught in another spider’s web. “I should grab my equipment. You’re going to be stuck in that chair for a while… go, you know,” you gestured about, “whatever you need to do, give me an hour or so,” you nodded and gave Papa a sparkly thumbs up.

“hmm, I wasn’t wholly thrilled about Sister making this appointment, but uh, it seems I am changing my mind.”

“Good, we like a willing participant,” you said with all your sparkly masking ignoring the mood he was trying to set. Keep up the energy, keep up the image, keep up the unthreatening. Hide your teeth. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it :3

[ask-nick-carraway]

Dear Nick,

I wrote you a poem! I hope that's alright with you.

Here goes nothing:

Bong-bong-bong (we good, we good, we good?) Bong-bong-bong-bong-bong (like a drum) Bong-bong-bong-bong-bong-bong-bong (haha, this is fire) Nigga, eat this ass like a plum (plum) This pussy tight like a nun (nun) Better chew it up like it's gum (gum) Then wipe your mouth when you done (okay) I'm hot like Nevada, pussy get popped, Piñata Bitch, I look like money (like money) You could print my face on a dollar Beat it up Beat it up Beat it up Beat it up Okay Five, four, three, two, one, lift off Honey, I'm home, shoes gettin' kicked off (uh) Every time I turn around, a bitch pissed off (ah-ha) Little dusty ass hoes need a lint brush (woo) You gon' settle down, you gon' live with him (what?) I don't even wanna post a pic with him (no) The bag he just bought me was a Goyard (Goyard) That ain't yo' nigga, he is both ours Pussy tight like a nun (nun) Countin' hundreds up with my thumb (thumb) I don't care where you from (from) Better beat this shit like a drum (okurr) Don't be talkin' shit like you know me (woo) I ride dick like a pony Girl, that nigga look like a brokey (Real hot girl shit) Go and fuck with his homie, he a- (ah) This ass sit like a stallion, all these wannabes my lil' ponies These hoes camped out in the comments, always talkin' like they know me (ayy) Thick bitches in a black truck, packed in Eat whoever in my way, Ms. Pacman Hermes, made a real big purchase Purse so big, had to treat it like a person Bad bitch (bad bitch) in real life (in real life) Show me real love, give a fuck about them likes ('bout them likes) Bitch tryna say I ain't fine? Oh, alright They know I'm thick like I'm eatin' beans with the rice Like lean over ice, got the real meat pies I be spillin' like my ass, out these jeans when they tight And the way they watch me, need to be monetized (ah) I'ma need a money bag if I sleep overnight Wait, wait, wait (hold up) Wait, wait (hold up) Hoes pop pills, but I'm the one they can't take (yeah) Hot girl shit, I'ma make somethin' shake I know the stiff hoes can't relate (ah) Shoot your shot like a free throw Just know this pussy ain't free though My BD is a Migo Bitch, your BD is a zero My back shots sound like bongos I ain't scared to admit, I'm a freak ho At least I'm gettin' my money Y'all hoes broke, pussy took more turns than a keyhole It did Like a bum I'ma throw it back like it's Thursday I got cake, I'm lit, it's my birthday (ah) Look I don't ride on my knees, bitch, I ride on my toes Big fat ass, it be eatin' up the thong Gotta garage full of foreign cars that I never drove A bitch couldn't school me with a student loan I'm so sexy, I could Met Gala in a robe I could body every look and I could body every pose (yes) Neck full of diamonds, yeah, I'm forever froze Will Cardi ever fall off? Bitch, we'll never know (whoa) Beat it up Wait Bitch, I'm hot (hot), like Nevada ('vada) Pussy get popped, Piñata (bap) Lookin', like money (cold) You could print my face on a dollar (okay) This pussy, Dominicana This pussy, Americana (ayy) Si tu quiere que te toma toma Bought a couple cribs on my own, I'm a owner Beat it up Real hot girl shit La Cardi (ah) I hope you like it! I worked really hard on it.

Sincerely,

Matt

Oi arsehole,

I just came to visit Nick for some important work related business and I find him on the bloody floor with this letter at his desk.

Is he? Is he dead?

Right. I kicked him a few times and he made a noise so I think he’s alive.

Still, that was a shite thing to do mate, scaring him like that.

Only I’m allowed do to that.

Bugger off,

Achava

[yoshi17here]

Party has gone "wrong"? Part.1

⋆˚✿˖° Beomgyu

Yoshi: hey guys, I thought I should start a tag list, but please let me know if you think I should, and if I should add you. So I'm back here with another imagine ik it took a while but this one is my first imagine of Beomgyu and I mostly did it for @xoaless4evaa cuz she's Beomgyu biased, and I hope you guys enjoy it let me know what are your thoughts. enjoy!

paring: fem drummer reader x college soccer team captain Beomgyu.

Warnings: fluff, angst smau. If your name is Katie I’m sorry but you can change the name of ur bff ( in the story) if u want to

words:396

sypnosis: it's October which means Halloween is on the way. Popular kids are throwing parties. Your best friend and you got an invite from Beomgyu, the popular guy soccer team captain.

—Beomgyu was always a proper guy, because he wasn’t a soccer teawm. And on the other hand there’s you, you were always the shy type of girl, you were the drummer on the band, but that didn’t make you popular, mostly because you were really awkward and clumsy.

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

—Hallowen was coming by so everyone was talking about their costumes and their plans . only had one friend, Katie, but you didn’t mind at all. It seems like some people were going to do a party and invite the whole school. Didn’t wanna go to any of those parties but was begging you to go. Of course you didn’t want your friend to be sad so you said yes.

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

—You were planning to accept the first invite that you receive, and you waited for a while until the first invite was from the soccer team captain, Beomgyu. Katie was excited, but you were nervous, Beomgyu was your crush, every girl liked him and you tried to be the exception, but how can you not fall in love with him?

“Katie, can we please wait until the next invite comes in?” “ but y/n, The whole campus is invited by so there won’t be another one plus, it’s Beomgyu” she said the last part in a flirty way like if that makes things better.

You were planning on not spending much in your costume since you had a student loan and also because of inflation things are getting expensive. So you chose a vampire fit it was like 15 bucks, Katie had told you that she was gonna go dressed up as a racer.

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

—Halloween arrived faster than what you thought, you find yourself on Katie‘s dorm getting ready, she was finishing your make up “Alr we are ready, let’s go!” You both went downstairs to Katie’s car. I started heading to the party.

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

—When you arrived to the party, before entering, Katie asked “ do I look good?” You found Katie’s look a bit too revealing, but you still said “ yes!” “ OK let’s go in then” you guys go in and you spent a good 10 minutes having fun until Katie told you she was gonna get drinks for you two she had told you to stay where you where. after a few minutes you got worried so you text Katie making sure everything’s okay. She replied saying everything was okay. She was hanging out with other girls. So you decided to sit on an empty table, because you didn’t have a car to get back home.

🐬˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧˚.🐟⋆

After a while, group of girls with customes and made them look like sluts came up to your table and sat down. You didn’t mind that all until you heard what they were saying about you. “ Oh my God, she looks so friendless” “ her costume is from Dollar tree” “ she probably found it on the street” “ is she really scared of showing some skin” “ I know, right”. Every comment made you want to cry even more. so you had enough if you were the bathroom was they said the bathroom was upstairs. So you went upstairs you open the first door you saw and you find.. BEOMGYU?!?!

YOSHI's Shelf

[solar-sunnyside-up]

This is probably a weird/highly specific question, but am I a hypocrite for doing extension work as an anarchist? Basically, when I applied for my job, I thought that I would be helping people with applications for Snap througha university, but once I interviewed and got hired I realized that I'd be doing nutrition/food education (which, as a fat person, scared me at first, but most of the material is okay in that regard; some of it is gross, but that's to be expected. I'm not going to regurgitate any of that rhetoric myself and will express as such to my supervisor if needed), which is through both the university and by technicality the state due to us being under Snap specifically. So far I actually think a lot of the stuff we're doing can be used for a lot of good (teaching anatomy, basic cooking skills, how to cook on a budget, gardening, etc.), and the history/original intentions of extension work actually align with a lot of solarpunk/anarchist thought, but I'm wary of the association with the state.

I was working a delivery job and temp jobs before this and facing over 30k in student debt and on state insurance and until a couple months ago living with a highly emotionally abusive family member; now I'm making above minimum wage, on better insurance, can more easily pay my rent, and could potentially get some of my loans forgiven. I know pragmatically that I need this job, at least for a little bit, but I feel like a massive hypocrite.

Any thoughts/advice would be appreciated; I hope all is well :3

K just to simply answer the question right uo front: Your not a hypocrite, your attempting to survive in a hostile system while helping ppl where you can.

Unless your a police officer, a landlord, or like... a politician who takes bribes you aren't able to be a hypocrite at worst your staying alive. And given the situation your in, your doing good work!

As anarchists there tends to be a lot of this black and white mentality

"I'm against the state! And hate both parties so I won't vote!" Is a good example. But it's just not that black and white in reality, that's just being a bystander if all you do is not participate.

But like... we are all ppl fighting the fight where we can. Some ppl have access to giving others help with chores, some ppl have money they can spare sometimes to ppl needing to pay transit fair, sometimes ppl have enough food to donate to someone else. Sometimes we slip piracy links to students and coworkers, and sometimes we can't do anything but shout that something is wrong. All of these tiny acts are just as valid as the next.

Plus, your ultimately teaching vital info, your giving GOOD info! Your giving helpful things to ppl, even potentially filtering out harmful parts to it. If a state must exist, for the time being, then it should at least feed, educate, and care for it citizens.

My advice is: laugh at the idea that they decided to pay someone who'd rip their system apart to educate ppl on how to use the system to their advantage! Sew anarchism into the moments you can. And when you buy yourself a small extra treat bc you get a wage that allows for small comforts whisper "And they paid for this rebellion" with some joy. You've earned it!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

To Touch Fate

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason attempts to settle down in Southern Italy and live a civilian life.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Matt McGinnis

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Angst, Jason Todd-centric, Jason Todd is a Father, Terry McGinnis is Batman, Retirement, Future Fic, Major Original Character(s)

Chapter Eight: Three Laps

"Papá, I don't—. I can't go," Angelo cried. Jason crouched down, still holding his other son, Domenico's hand.

"Angelo, would I take you anywhere to hurt you?" Jason asked.

Angelo shook his head. "But I'm scared. You won't be there," Angelo replied. Jason wiped away Angelo's tears.

Jason sat down and pulled Angelo into an embrace. "I am always with you. Just in case you forget that, I'll loan you something of mine," Jason whispered as he removed his crucifix and put it around Angelo's neck. Angelo held it in his fist before touching foreheads with Jason. "I love you, and I'll come and get you in five hours."

"Promise?" Angelo asked. Jason smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I promise. My heart can only bear five hours of separation. When the little hand touches the one, we'll be together again," Jason whispered. Domenico hugged Angelo.

"Bye-bye, Angel," Domenico whispered.

"Domonic, take care of Papá," Angelo commanded. Domenico nodded. Angelo waved and walked into his classroom.

Jason turned away and wiped his eyes. "Papá, you sad?" Domenico questioned. Jason nodded. "Why?"

"Because I miss Angelo... But I'll be fine when I pick him up," Jason replied, "Let's go to the gym. Do you wanna punch Papá?" Domenico giggled as Jason scooped him up and blew raspberries into his stomach.

"Silly Papá!" Domenico giggled.

Jason bought two dozen bomboloni, a half dozen sfingi, a half dozen zeppole, and a box of pignolata from the bakery nearby. "Dom, here... Take a bite," Jason whispered. He held the pastry to Domenico's mouth, and Domenico took a large bite. "Good bite!" Jason nibbled the same pastry while they walked to the gym.

"More, please!" Domenico requested.

Jason took another bite and gave the rest to Domenico. "Wanna train with me while we wait for the others?" Jason asked. Domenico nodded and finished his bomboloni.

Jason set up the two-pound heavy bag and kissed the top of Domenico's head. "What do we do first, cocco di papà?" Jason questioned. Domenico started with his jumping jacks while Jason sang his ABCs. "Good! Next?" Domenico jogged in place until Jason started swaying to signal for him to bob and weave.

Jason reached out to tickle his son, and Domenico dodged his hands. "Silly Papá!" Domenico giggled. Jason always made training gentle for the boys. He never wanted them to feel pressured to do anything. Either way, they were learning to protect themselves. There was no use in scaring them.

Students trickled in, starting their warm-ups as they watched Jason train with Domenico. “Treat yourselves! I went to the bakery this morning. I’ll be right with you after I finish training my best fighter,” Jason announced. Jason crouched down and opened his arms. “I want you on the heavy bag while I talk to the big kids, okay?” Domenico threw his arms around Jason and kissed him on the cheek.

“Papá, can I have water?” Domenico asked. Jason smiled and nodded.

“Mhm, and can you bring me my water when you’re done?” Jason asked. He didn’t need it, but he liked giving Domenico a task to make him feel needed. Domenico thrived on being Jason’s personal helper.

Domenico ran off, and Jason clapped his hands to get his students’ attention. “Today is a special day! As you might’ve noticed, a certain oldest son of mine is absent from the gym today! He started school this morning! And to celebrate, I think we should go out for a run on the beach today,” Jason announced. Some of them groaned, but the others cheered. Domenico returned with Jason’s water bottle, and Jason picked him up. “Wanna run on the beach, Dom?” Domenico grinned and nodded.

“Domenico’s spoken! We’re gonna run on the beach! Everybody finishes warming up and get your water bottles!” Jason shouted. “Meet me at the beach!”

“Papá, can Mamma go to the beach with us?” Domenico asked.

“Wanna hear a secret?” Jason whispered. Domenico nodded. “Mamma’s already there.”

Jason asked his assistant to lock up. “I’m going to give the babies a kiss,” Domenico announced. Jason grinned.

“I think they’ll appreciate that,” Jason smiled. Jason and Domenico arrived first, and Jason took him to Noemi to put on sunscreen. She did Domenico’s first, and when Jason turned to pick him up, Noemi put his sunscreen on as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Noemi smiled. Domenico kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Dom.” Noemi kissed his forehead. “Here, have a strawberry.” She fed him some of the fruit she cut up, and Jason pulled a small pastry bag out of his duffel.

“Trade?” Jason asked.

“You didn’t!” Noemi exclaimed.

“Pignolata… All yours,” Jason smiled as he exchanged snacks. “I think I bought out half the bakery.” Noemi smiled.

Domenico leaned into the beach wagon and kissed his twin sisters. “Good morning, Katerina. Good morning, Cecelia,” Domenico greeted. Jason stuck his head in the wagon and blew raspberries on their stomachs, eliciting twin laughs.

“Love you, Funny Girls,” Jason giggled. He found himself giggling more than he had in years. Four children were more than he could ever ask for. “Noemi, do you want me to take the girls in the stroller?”

“Are you taking the stroller anyway?” Noemi asked. Jason nodded. “That’s fine. They love the stroller.” Jason buckled the twins into the stroller before stopping to stare at Noemi. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I—. Hold on,” Jason grinned before kissing her. “You’re as irresistible as the day we met. Maybe more…”

“You have twenty-year-olds to run ragged,” Noemi smiled. Jason blew her a kiss. Noemi caught his kiss and held it to her heart. Dom buckled himself into the stroller, and Jason started his run.

Jason sang to the children as he ran, and his class followed. Domenico sang with him. “Come on, class! I’m an old man with four children pushing a stroller! Someone should be ahead of me!” Jason teased. Even retired, he kept in fighting shape. It calmed the worries that often surfaced when the nightmares returned. Actually, the nightmares never left.

Jason led them on three laps down the length of the beach, and he told everyone to get back to the gym. By then, Domenico and the twins lay fast asleep in the stroller. Jason returned Domenico to the wagon, kissed Noemi, and took the girls to the gym. Cecelia woke up before Katerina, so Jason fed and sang to her until she settled. Cecelia was the older and more demanding twin, but Jason didn’t mind. He loved having daughters. He never imagined he’d have one, but two identical little girls… It was enough to make him misty-eyed most days. “Cecelia, Papá loves you so much… Can you say, Papá? I will not beat out by Mamma again… Or sfingi,” Jason half-joked. Cecelia cooed. “Oh! You’re welcome.” Jason showered her in kisses.

He trained the kids at the gym for a few hours before taking the twins to Angelo’s school. They waited outside for nearly thirty minutes before the bell rang. Angelo exited the classroom, talking to a girl, but when he saw Jason, he dropped everything and ran full speed into his arms. “Angioletto! I missed you so much! How was your day?” Jason questioned as he squeezed Angelo tight in his embrace.

“You kept your promise… And the teacher was nice. Everyone speaks Italian in class,” Angelo answered. Jason chuckled.

“I will always return to you, Angel,” Jason whispered as he tapped Angelo’s nose. “Now, let’s get gelato and go home.” Angelo nodded excitedly.

Jason relaxed his shoulders. Only two more first days.

[lumpytoadboy]

Man, I am not doing so great.

I mean, it's been a minute since I've been okay. I'm disabled but ineligible for disability benefits, non-binary trans and not cis passing, unable to work, in 6 digits of student debt, unable to get health care, and still masking due to physical and mental health issues. I'm AuDHD and I have cPTSD; I don't really leave the house and most days I barely make it out of bed. And I live in a rural area of the United States, where every street is speckled with Republican signage.

I don't feel safe here, but I also have the privilege of being white and having a partner who keeps a roof over our heads. So I don't feel like I'm in imminent danger either, as long as I stay inside my house. It's not a wonderful way to live, but it is keeping me alive despite the depressive nature of being isolated from everyone.

Yesterday I heard that a trans acquaintance in NYC fled the country to somewhere overseas. I guess that triggered me a bit. Should I be trying to get out of here? It's been my hope that my partner and I would be able to leave the state since 2016, but we're still here, and we don't have the money for a new place; my student loans cost around $2k a month, and my poor partner pays them. I can't express how worthless that makes me feel. I've tried to find work but I just haven't found anything I can handle, despite my 3 college degrees. I'm enrolled in an online MLS program, but it's so hard to focus when everything is the way it is. I'm scared I won't make it through, even though school is the only thing I'm really any good at.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing right now. I'm scared and sad and angry, but more than anything I feel so powerless. I don't have a community, and I don't feel safe or welcome in queer spaces that don't mask. I don't have any friends in my state. I am a Canadian citizen by birth, but if I crossed the border there would be nowhere for me to stay- I'm estranged from my family.

This is a vent post because I feel like I'm going to be sick or explode or stop breathing. It's also a request for advice. I genuinely don't know what I should be doing right now, and I don't have anyone to ask. If you're a friend, please DM me with any advice, especially if you're also a trans person in the US.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

Could you share some info about your fnaf self insert? They seem pretty cool :]

OOOOOOOOH BOY ARE YOU ASKING FOR AN INFO DUMP ?BECAUSE YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET AN INFO DUMP!!!!

first off, my self insert is basically just me, but some stuff is drastically different, and more of like, where i was 5 years ago mentally, so keep that in mind lol

sooo basics: their name is Kris Tycho, they're in their early 20s, they're 4'10, they're mexican, nonbinary, and aromantic

they are just a little guy who likes silly colorful fun things, as seen from the lil googly eye ring on their hand, the way they dress, and the fact that they might be the only person who wasn't scared of the dca when first meeting! they're also a fan of slightly unsettling and weird/misunderstood things, so, perfect match!

they are autistic and have adhd (like me!) so they tend to swing from being highly alert and focused to brain foggy and oblivious to what's going on around them. they do have bad sensory issues, mainly with sound and lights, which is why they decided to work night shift at the pizzaplex. also because they're reeeaallly socially awkward and get too stressed and exhausted working in customer service

they have a monotonous way of speaking, and can be taken too seriously due to having a resting bitch face, which tends to intimidate people. they're also a huge introvert, and don't make friends easily, which is partially due to how off-putting people find them. but! when they get comfortable with someone they're able to unmask and be overly expressive.

they also aren't exactly the most professional person, so people (vanessa) can be bothered by how casual they are at work (because they literally do not have the energy to act serious when its unnecessary). vanessa, exasperated by the animatronic shenanigans one night says "fuck robots" kris jokingly says "im trying" and vanessa is just like shut the fuck up. seriously.

they have spotify playlists of all the animatronics! (sun and moons have the most songs teehee)

is more than okay with the animatronics carrying them and being overly touchy. anyone else? immediately on their shit list

they're really good at sewing, and have fixed sun and moons clothes when management ignored their requests to repair them.

their favorite animatronic from the main band is glam chica (dont tell roxy)

their favorite movie is wall-e :] (they've always had a thing for robots)

their relationship with the dca kinda blurs the lines between platonic and....other, lol. they're unable to feel romantic feelings for them but they still do stuff like kiss and cuddle maybe other stuff too, but they basically act like besties and are each others comfort person. fuck labels! >:D

their entire thought process when deciding to work at the pizzaplex was, "i'll either work here long enough to pay off my student loans, or ill die. win win situation" (yikes, the pay there isn't even that good)

they're also huge fan of fazbear ent. because of all the rumors surrounding it, and because they were obsessed with the games when they were younger (which are canonically real in the fnaf universe). they are very aware of the alleged murders surrounding faz ent. and the very real danger of working at their establishments. but they're curious! sue them!

the reason vanessa and them are the only human workers in the entire building is because there needs to be at least 2 (human) people in an establishment during work hours (my source is i used to work at chuck e cheese, and that's my reference for the majority of these kinds of things)

their job title is security guard, but vanessa regularly gives them random tasks, things that staff bots aren't programmed or are unable to do, or things that dayshift workers forgot to do before closing. because between her, the staff bots, and moon, kris isn't exactly necessary when it comes to security.

kris doesn't meet the daycare attendant until like a month into their job, and when they do meet sun they immediately get kicked out of the daycare for not being a child lol. after going down the slide enough times to irritate sun he gives in, and they get to know each other. they spend at least an hour hanging out with sun each shift, and they even hang out outside of the daycare when they get too busy to visit!

moon has been stalking them the entire time though, when the lights go off every hour. they officially meet when kris has to do monthly maintenance on them and the lights go out while they're working. moon scares them by threatening and manhandling them, but they don't try to run. both because they're curious and because their flight or fight is just freeze. but after recovering from the shock the autism makes them go "holy shit your design is so cool how did your pants change color where did your hat come from?" and moon is completely silent, then he just laughs and leaves without letting kris finish maintenence.

ummm okay so they're actually a bit more willing to die than how i previously made it seem, their plan was essentially to try to explore as much of the pizzaplex as they can out of curiosity and if they die they die (they are not mentally well) so when they meet moon and he's slightly violent and grabby with them, they're like !!! an opportunity! so for selfish reasons (and because they vibe with the celestial jester theme), they try to get closer to moon. (secret reason: they like getting scared)

In this story there is no virus, its just vanny/vanessa being able to control the animatronics, but due to that they've become very anxious and stressed. this is why chica starts to overeat, why monty starts to have anger issues, why moon starts to act scary towards the children, and why sun starts to become an anxious mess.

at first kris didn't think the animatronics were sentient, and they were perfectly fine with the thought of possibly dying to one of them. but when they realized just how sentient they were (due to spending a lot of time around sun and moon), and how the animatronics were aware of what happened at previous locations, they felt sooo incredibly guilty.

despite not thinking the animatronics were sentient they still treated them like people, partly due to their autism that made them personify inanimate objects, but also because in their mind it was 'fun to act like they were real'. like an adult going to Disneyland and getting so lost in the magic that they forget the characters are just actors.

and... i don't want to spoil too much of the story yet teehee so ill end it there

thank u for letting me ramble! even though i kinda went overboard lol :]

[purple-obsidian]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers ( positivity is cool~)🌈🌈

your ask title 😭🩵

my ask title states clearly what i want but no one has degraded me yet 😫 but i can talk about myself all damn day, here we go:

i like that i am intelligent (at least within my field) its extremely validating that all those student loans i took out weren't for nothing, i'm good at what i do and i'm proud of that

i like my hair lately tbh finally found the products that work for my hair type and its gotten longer, i'm feeling myslef fr.

i really like my tattoos, i'm looking at my arm any chance i can get, my artist COOKED and my ink looks dope

okay number 4 has got to be my sense of humor. i think i'm hilarious, and i'm never scared to laugh at my own jokes

last one is most important, i like how good of a friend i am. i have a few irl friendships that mean a lot to me that I've been able to keep alive for over 12 years now and i love those bitches more than anything. their kids call me aunt. their dogs never bark at me. and they know i have their back no matter what and that makes me feel good inside.

thanks @kyletogaz <3

[pardonmydelays]

I know you haven't responded to my other ask yet, which is okay (I promise!), but I wanted to let you know that in the ask I told you I was going to apply to an apartment unit some time last week and I never ended up doing it. I forgot what else I said in the ask but I remembered that.

I want to move out so bad, but I have to start paying student loans soon, and as much as I hate to admit this, I honestly don't know if I can make that work on top of whatever the rent will be. 😭 I honestly want to believe that I can make it work, but I will need to be super frugal with money. (I don't start payments until December)

I was so excited about moving out, but now, the more I think about it, and the more reality sets in, I'm constantly asking myself, Can I even make this work? Realistically. I'm not getting paid crap but I'm also not making a decent, livable income. I've been applying nonstop to companies that pay at least $22-23 for starting (obviously preferably not retail!), and that's not really comfortable living; however, I can make it work in the city I live. Also, I'll take that over what I make now. I was looking at single rooms because 2 bedrooms with 1 or 2 bathrooms is more expensive, but I'm not opposed to having a roommate the more I think about it. I'm sure I will find a way to make all of this work out somehow, but right now, I'm having doubts. 🙁

Sorry for the long, semi-depressing ask. I'm trying to be optimistic and excited about the possibility of moving out, but the more reality sets in, the more anxious I get. We'll see what the rest of October and these next two months bring me...

~🌼

i actually answered your ask two weeks ago, but it's ok, i get it, it's hard to find anything on my blog these days cause it's just chaos, but here's your answer (i also always tag your asks as "daisy anon" so it's easier for you to find them!). anyway.

i still think you should try. moving out will give you much more freedom and i know this is what you need right now. living with a roommate is not a bad idea, but honestly single room is just as fine? look, i live alone and it's not perfect - my apartment is very small, but IT'S MINE, it's affordable, comfy and just enough for one person. i'm quite happy here and i've been living here for over a year now and i don't really plan on looking for something else in the nearest future. if fear is the only thing that stops you from doing this, let me tell you that all's going to be alright. this is a huge step but also very important. i believe you will figure it all out.

i was in a very dark place some time ago and, as you know, i was struggling so much with finding a job and everything, but holy shit, the truth is that we're always being so dramatic and everything always turns out fine in the end. and then we laugh about it. so...

i promise you things are going to work out but you really have to try. and i understand that you are worried but hello?, i also moved out to a different city so far away from home just because i wanted to and i was SCARED AS FUCK - i did it anyway. and i'm still here four years later and i am completely fine. and if i am alright, you'll be too. DO IT SCARED BUT DO IT ANYWAY!!!

[your-queer-dad]

(Vent sorry, not about queerness I just have nowhere else to say this where I'll get any sort of response)

Ive been having to deal with so much stuff lately. Like I was fine when I was in the midst of severe depression cause I didn't think I'd live very long anyways but now I need to come to terms with everything I've been ignoring for at least a year and at most my whole life. Like I'm AuDHD in a decently ableist family (middle/working class white cishet moderate leftists who think they're very progressive, you know the type) and I've had absolutely shit experiences with the people who should be helping me with that stuff (my old therapist was actively uneducated and ableist, my psychiatrist was a white cishet man in his 60s or 70s and I had to teach him what masking is and how adhd and autism present in AFAB people) which makes that really difficult in general because all my friends know I have AuDHD but I can't officially come out and say that I do because my family will deny it and tell me I'm being attention seeking and looking for excuses for being lazy and a flawed person. I also don't physically look the way I've been convincing myself I look naturally for a long time (yay anorexia recovery) and it's just messing me up a lot because when I look at my reflection I just feel visceral disgust. I'm still on the lower end of a healthy weight, but I can only see a few of my ribs now and my stomach isn't flat anymore. Everyone else says they can't notice but I feel like I've lost everything that made me good, and I'm scared that gaining weight is going to stop me from passing. I hate being with my parents and I just feel like I'm a horrible person for that, I only got hit once and other than that they're just toxic and sort of manipulative/emotionally abusive. They try their best they just can't raise me right and I feel like shit for that. I wish I could be spending more time outside, but I had a medical emergency thing on Tuesday (my mom doesn't let me call it a seizure because we don't know for sure) and I'm scared that that's going to happen again, and my constant joint pain has just gotten worse. My friends are telling me that I need to talk to a doctor about this, but the wait time for rheumatology is insane and my parents thing I'm making it up/exaggerating/looking for attention and even if they believe me they don't think it's important and worth getting help for. I'm scared that I'm going to die, last time it happened my entire body went numb and stiff and I couldn't move and I was just twitching for like 15 minutes. I also completely lost my vision before this happened, and it was greyscale/coming back slowly for the entire thing, plus I could barely hear anything. If that happens again I genuinely think that I might die. I also have scars all over my legs and chest and I have to either hide them or find some sort of explanation for them that won't make the people I work with during the summer think I'm not suited for working with kids (summer camp counseling). I spent all of last year thinking I was never going to turn 15 and now I kind of wish I hadn't.

I want to live but it's all so overwhelming and if I falter or let my parents see that I'm scared, they'll force me into the role of a small child and start treating me like a toddler or an animal like they always do. I just don't know what to do and I know it's horrible and selfish and disgusting but I just wish my mom would die. I can't live like this, it's only 3 more years but I'm just so scared. She keeps threatening me and saying I won't get into college or I'm failing high school because of how long I was out of school due to psych ward stuff even though she knows that not getting into college is my main fear- if that happens, I can't keep going. I know that I'm going to kill myself if I can't get into college. After that I'm still going to need to pay off student loans and I might not have my best friend with me (if I have him ill be okay and he says that he promises he'll try to live with me in college) and I just can't deal with that. I need to catch up on school and I need to learn to drive and then I need to get ready for my job in the summer and I need to make sure my grades are good enough for colleges to want me and I need to get people to like me and I just can't do it. I don't want to die but I feel like it's the only answer, I'm just not capable of doing this. I'm not supposed to be alive. I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Sorry about the rant you don't need to answer at all I know this is a lot

-🔆

Hey kiddo. Please please don't apologise for reaching out, I'm here for you and I'm always here for you, night and day my inbox and DMs are always open to anyone who needs to talk.

God, it sounds like you've had a rough deal. I understand where you're coming from. With parents, it's so hard when they don't do what they're supposed to do as parents and they don't understand you or believe you when you ask for help. It's awful and I am so sorry.

From the sounds of things, it sounds like you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself, as well as all that pressure around you. As scary as the future is, it isn't going to creep up on you one day. It's tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that and every single day after that. You have time to breathe and rest and do whatever you need to do. You can't do everything at once, you're only human- and expecting yourself to do everything at once only caused burn out and stress.

Also, as a person who's gone through eating disorder recovery- weight doesn't stop you from passing. I promise you it doesn't. It's a good thing! It's a sign that all the work you've done recovering has paid off. I'm proud of you.

Keep your head up kiddo, I'm so so proud of you. Remember to take care of yourself, let yourself breathe and don't expect yourself to do everything all at once. I'm here anytime you need to talk.

Love you,

- dad x