#so i had to pay full price and then i went to the office got the new card and went back to the doctor for a refund

[grailfish]

pokes u on thr fumcken NOSE

[cactusisconfused]

Some cod headcanons of mine pt2--pt1

Soap

-

Soap loves to bake. Everyone that he’s met thinks that he would love cooking far more given you can just throw things together without much measuring. However, Soap loves baking for the exact reason. He’s meticulous with measuring each and every ingredient- just like how he would when calculating what he needs for demolitions. It gives his brain something to latch onto and quiet his thoughts for a little while.

Soap while baking will purposely get flour on his hands and place it somewhere on ghost- usually his cheek as he cups ghosts cheek when they kiss.

Soap, while growing up in a filled house, he also grew up without a lot of money. They had some, enough to get by, but between him, his two sisters and his mother and father, they lived pretty much paycheck to paycheck.

Soap’s father was an absolute deadbeat. Soap’s oldest sister said he used to be kinder but by the time Johnny came around, the man soured into some person who pretended like he cared about the family.

This lead to Johnny often feeling like he was the reason his father was as verbally abusive as he was- both to him, his mom and sisters. He would strive to be better because of this. To get good grades, to do good in sports. None of it seemed to satisfy his father. It only ever damaged Johnny too.

When Johnny left for the military, he really had no idea what he was doing. What he did know, was that if he went, he could help pay his mother’s bills and medication.

Soap knew he was mentally different from everyone, learning that not everyone’s voice in their head was going a million miles a minute by the age of ten. He was continuously scolded for never being able to sit still, to stop talking.

The 141, when he finally got in, didn’t give a single shit about his adhd- in a good way. Price would let Soap talk in his office if it had been a long day- something that helped some adrenaline get out of soap and for price to be sure that his (son) sergeant was still alive. If he had needed some stimulation, Price has gifted Soap some fidget toys over the years.

Gaz always jumped into conversations with Soap, who while not diagnosed is definitely neurodivergent in some way. Gaz would and will always listen when Soap starts talking about mile a minute about something that’s got his brain in tangles- be it demolitions, drawing, or if he should give the orange pebble to ghost or the reddish pebble to ghost.

When soap met ghost, he surprised to see how much they both had in common, yet to be so different. Of course, Simon is quiet and Johnny is talkative. Simon is the moon and Johnny is the sun. But then he found that Simon likes the same music he did, that their fathers were assholes in their own (non)respective rights, that they both cared for their families- blood or found- so deeply that its disappearance could shatter their souls. Johnny felt heard for the first time…ever, really.

Soaps journal is filled to the brim of ghost. You can always tell, when looking in soap’s sketchbook, when he first saw Simon without the mask. As Johnny’s sketchbook would go from maybe 1-3 drawings of ghost to full five pages of just Simon.

Soap’s favorite flower is a poppy.

Soap is a really good driver and the few times he’s seen Simon relax while on a mission, is if Soap is driving.

He definitely sees Price as the father figure he never got, he’s not really ashamed to admit that.

-

Heyy I continued something, would you look at that.

[kybercrystals94]

Bumps and Bruises

Read here on Ao3

Whumptober 2024 - Day 9 - Prompts: Bruises / Broken Window

@prompts-of-bad-batch - Week 4 - Prompt: "I did good...right?"

Rated: G | Words: 1220 A/N: Some lighter hearted whump for your reading pleasure today!

Omega comes bounding into the parlor, face aglow and ruddy. “We’re back!” she announces breathlessly, climbing up onto the stool next to Hunter. 

“I can see that,” Hunter says, looking her over. Her hair is mussed, dirt along her hairline and across her brow. Her clothes are dirty too, mud caked along her shins and forearms as though she’d crawled through the stuff. “What happened?” 

“We completed our mission,” Omega chirps happily, spinning her chair.

Hunter frowns. “It was an errand to get parts.” 

“That’s how it started,” Omega agrees, “but then it turned into a mission.” 

Wrecker and Tech come into the parlor then, Wrecker carrying a crate on his shoulder with a broad grin, and Tech carefully avoiding catching Hunter’s eye. Hunter takes a steadying breath. “I heard your supply run turned into a mission. Care to explain, Tech?” 

Tech visibly flinches at being directly addressed. He clears his throat. “That is what Wrecker and Omega are calling it. I would hardly classify it as such.” 

“And what would you classify it as?” Hunter asks. 

Wrecker drops the crate onto one of the tables. “I’ll tell him!” 

“No, I would rather you did not,” Tech says before Wrecker can say another word. 

“Aww, c’mon,” Wrecker groans, dropping into a chair. 

Tech rolls his eyes. “We found the parts we needed; however, we were given an additional task in order to procure the parts at a more reasonable price.” 

“What kind of additional task?” Hunter presses. 

Omega is bouncing next to him, all excitement. “We broke into an abandoned warehouse!” 

Hunter gapes. “You what?” 

“It was perfectly safe,” Tech says. “I scanned the building for life forms. The largest of which were vermin, which were hardly larger than Omega’s fist. There were no risks taken.” 

“I saw one of them,” Omega tells Hunter. “It was fuzzy, and it looked so cute. But Tech said I couldn’t pet it because they can carry diseases.” 

“Yeah, not risky at all,” Hunter deadpans, tossing an unimpressed look at Tech. 

“She’s been near far, far worse,” Tech argues. 

Hunter concedes the point. “And what did you all need to get from this abandoned warehouse?” 

“I went in all by myself,” Omega says. “I climbed through a broken window and found the file in an old office.” 

Tech sighs. “Perhaps it would be better if I told the narrative,” he suggests.

“Okay!” Omega says with a cheerful smile and another spin of her chair. 

 Hunter crosses his arms. “Well?” 

Tech shifts uncomfortably. “It was a simple task, and brought the price down on parts by sixty-five point three percent. The parameters were to enter an abandoned warehouse, go to the office on the second story, and retrieve a data file that had been left accidentally by the merchant when he had been employed there. We did not wish to cause any damages, nor be caught and charged with trespassing, so we sought a way that would have minimal impact on the environment.”

“An already broken window,” Omega supplies helpfully. 

“Yes, there was a pre-existing broken window,” Tech agrees, “but it was far too small an opening for myself and, obviously, Wrecker, to enter by. I was set to abandon the assignment and pay full price for the parts; however, Omega insisted that she was more than capable of the responsibility, and given her aptitude in the field, I found it an agreeable solution.” 

Omega leans forward. “Can I tell him how I got in and out? Please?”

With a look of distressed resignation, Tech nods. “As you wish.” 

Omega's face turns serious, although there is no hiding the spark of exhilaration in her eyes. “I had to go under a fence, and it was really muddy. That’s why my clothes are dirty, but I don’t mind. Then, I climbed up on some crates and pulled myself up into the window. Tech had me on comms the whole time, Hunter, so you don’t have to worry. I told him everything I was doing. He had an old map of the warehouse, and he told me where to go. That’s when I told him about the fuzzy little mouse thing. It ran right in front of me. It startled me a little bit, but I didn’t make a sound, did I, Tech.” 

“Not one of distress, merely curiosity,” Tech agrees. 

Omega smiles. “And then I went up a staircase, and there was a metal bar that had fallen down. I didn’t notice it and ran into it.” 

“Wait, what?” Tech asks, sounding alarmed, “I don’t recall you mentioning that.” 

“It only hurt a little bit,” Omega says dismissively, heaving her narrow shoulders in a shrug. 

Hunter leans forward, lifting Omega’s bangs from her forehead. Under the layer of mud and dust, he sees an ugly bruise blossoming over a large bump. “Omega, you need to tell us whenever you get hurt,” he admonishes gently. 

“It’s barely anything,” Omega protests, pulling back and covering the wound with her hand. 

“How hard did you walk into this metal bar?” Tech asks. 

Omega frowns. “I was kind of going fast. But it’s okay. I’m fine. Really. I don’t have a concussion.” 

“You don’t get to decide that,” Tech declares. 

Omega pouts, but allows Tech to check her over without protest, sullenly answering his questions about dizziness and headaches and any other symptoms Tech deems concerning. At the end of it all, it is decided that Omega indeed does not have a concussion. Hunter can see by the twitch in Omega’s frown that she is resisting the urge to mutter that she told them so. 

He grins at her. “Now that we have that settled, why don’t you finish your story, Omega.” 

The girl looks up at him, the downturn of her lips lifting a little. “Really?” 

“How else am I supposed to find out what happened next?” Hunter asks, leaning back on his stool and resting an elbow on the counter.

The gleam returns to her eyes, and she launches into the next part of the story, any perceived injustice smoothed over. Hunter looks over at Tech, catching the splicer’s eye, and gives him a subtle nod of approval. Omega may be young and inexperienced, but she had some of the former GAR’s best commandos at her back. If Tech trusted this to be a worthwhile exercise of Omega’s developing skills, Hunter trusted Tech. Tech nods back, subtle relief washing over his expression.  

Later that night, when Hunter is making sure Omega is tucked in for the night, his little sister is still glowing with pride, the discolored lump on her forehead peeking out from behind wisps of freshly washed blond hair. She snuggles under her blankets, Lula tucked under her arm. 

“I helped us save sixty-five point three percent on parts,” she says with a grin. 

Hunter chuckles. “Yes, you did.”

“I did good…right?” Omega asks. 

“You did great, kid.”

“Even though I hit my head?” 

Hunter smiles. “Eh, I’ve seen worse injuries for less reward.” 

Omega gasps. “Like what?” 

“Well, one time Tech broke his finger arm wrestling Wrecker…” Hunter begins.

“That is a poor example!” Tech calls out indignantly. 

Hunter whispers, for Omega’s ears only, “I think it’s a perfect example.” 

Omega’s fit of giggles is a familiar sound Hunter will never tire of hearing.

A/N: I reference one of my Whumptober 2023 fics in this story, Mundane Injuries...just thought I'd mention it in case it seemed familiar 😏

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[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Hiyaaaa!!! I’m on like some search for Atticus finch fics bc they are so rare and i am HUNGRY for some.

May i request an Atticus x baker + babysitter reader? Like his kids have been visiting this little bakery in town and Atticus decides to swing by to see if his kids ran off down there and meets reader?

I'm so full of love I could barely eat.

Atticus Finch x Gender neutral! Baker! Reader Summary: basic romantic headcanons of Atticus falling for baker! Reader Warnings: mention of violence (not put in detail, just the actions Mr. Ewell does after the trial) Word count: 1.2k A/N: I made the reader a baker only since it felt more in line with your request. And you're so real for searching for fics. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Love isn’t a common thing for Atticus to pay attention to, especially since he’s so busy and a bit older. He’s got kids and their friends, work, and making sure everyone in his home is happy. There’s so much going on romantic love barely seeps in. It also was because he didn’t know how his kids would react to getting another partner, Jem didn’t need to think he moved on too fast from his mother or Scout persecuting the person he could have possibly brought home.

Every couple days he would walk home when he saw Scout and Jem running and begging him to take them to a bakery in town. It was quite odd that they would willingly go into stores without having reason. They always groaned when he brought them shopping, so it must have been a big deal for them to beg to go somewhere. He never took them on his own time since he saw it as no big deal, wanted to go home, and knew the prices were a bit high for the time.

It was one day that Calpurnia had stopped in his office to tell him she couldn’t find the kids and neither could Alexandra. He assured her that he would find them and told her to go back home, still shaken from not finding them. After work, he went around Maycomb searching for the kids before he stopped at the town’s bakery. He hadn’t been in it many times since the recession, and he didn’t feel the need to go into a store just for one thing.

When Atticus finally found Jem, Scout, and Dill, they were sitting at one of the tables, eating away at pieces of blueberry bread. He would go off on them the best he could and ask them how they got the money to even afford getting food from the place. Naturally, you would say you fed them since they asked so nicely.

Just the sight of you would cause him to hesitate to speak again. You’d go on about how sweet they were and how you gave them the food since the bakery couldn’t sell it but it was good enough to eat. Atticus would smile a little wider than Scout and Jem have seen in a long while, thanking you for not charging them. He’d get the two to leave, grabbing the bread and leaving with a small smile.

“Why are you smiling so much?” Scout would ask as they walked home, holding the bread in her hands. Atticus would shake off the question.

“I can’t smile?” He’d remark, patting her head softly as they continued down the road.

It would become more common for Atticus to go to the bakery after work, just going off to talk to you. Each day that Scout and Jem would wait for Atticus, they would look at the corner, waiting for him. And he comes from the other end of the road. Sometimes he would wait until he’s close enough to pipe up, giving them a spook sometimes.

Once the summer comes, they would try finding why he comes from a different area after work and would watch as he walks from the bakery. He’d be questioned an insane amount, specifically from Scout. Atticus would brush them off the best he could, telling them he was talking to a friend.

The romance would be gradual, he would come in to find Jem and Scout to get them home, jokingly telling you off for feeding them pastries before dinner. Of course, it wouldn't be the best joke since he isn’t very good with satire. Either way, he’d thank you for not charging them for the food and be off… even if he wanted to stay longer.

Atticus would stop by more often, simply talking to you about business, the normal old people talk. He would try keeping it casual enough to not make you uncomfortable since he isn’t too good with flirting, so even if he tried it would come off as awkward. Scout said it herself; the kind of humor Atticus tries to have can only truly be done well by a lady Finch.

You would naturally give Atticus the test pastries for him and his kids to try. You’d give him the job of tester since he’d come by so often.

It was most obvious to Jem and Scout as time goes on, they both knew it was because of you. Atticus’s gaze would linger on you, and he would hesitate to say they needed to leave.

One night when the bakery had closed, Atticus stayed back with you to make sure you could close the shop safely (at least that was his reasoning for it). He’d sit at the counter and watch you quietly go on about your day, the new pastries sold, and how things were doing back at your home.

When you had fully closed the shop, he would stop before you could turn away to go home and finally work up the nerve to ask you out. Even if Atticus had more experiences in life than he would prefer bragging about, he still falters with asking a woman out.

“I would like to take you out this Saturday…,” Atticus would draw on his sentence, smiling slightly, his hat held on his chest, close to his heart. Though he held the top of his hat, he could feel his fast heartbeat. “If you’re alright with the idea.”

Naturally, you would accept, and he would go home with a small smile, knowing that he could take you out. Atticus would bring you a plan to bring you to a nice restaurant, get his best clothes for the date, and get Aunt Alexandra to take care of Jem and Scout. Atticus could only hope they didn’t press him too hard on what was going on.

The date would go well, the food being nice and the conversations being the same. As calm as Atticus made himself out to be, his heart was pounding. He almost forgot how nerve wracking it is taking someone out. He would try his best being smooth about how he feels to the best he could, buttering you up but not enough to come off too strong.

Hiding how the relationship from the children wouldn’t be that prominent after several dates. Atticus never hides anything else from them, how he feels about you is theirs to know about since you would be around more often. Of course, they knew to an extent. Jem would just say he knows, and Scout would ask if he was too old to do something like that.

The relationship would stay nearly exclusive to the family, more so since he didn’t want word getting out and possibly getting someone on you for being associated with him. Though, Atticus is beyond loving to you. He’d still stop by the bakery to talk to you when you were free.

After the trial and with the rampage Mr. Ewell was having on anyone associated with it, he’d target you too. It would lead to Atticus trying to escort you more often from work and home. If Mr. Ewell continued his mistreatment of you, Atticus would suggest you move in with him. It would not only be for your protection but also because he wants you to finally live with him. He’s old, he won’t live forever, and he’d prefer living with you in his arms at night.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[late-to-the-party-81]

Fit for a Queen

AN: My last little ficlet for @steverogersbingo and I’m revisiting Dom Steve and his Brat reader from I love you, then I hate you (and then I love you more). This went a bit more angsty and a bit softer than previous parts, but it shows their developing relationship.

Beta’d by @drabbles-mc!

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Challenges and Bingos: SGR Bingo July Adoptable  - Face sitting

Summary: It should have been easier now that your relationship with Steve is public, but of course it’s not and you have a lot of feelings to navigate. Luckily your boyfriend is supportive.

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Administrative Shield Agent Reader

WC: 1.2k

CW: Angst, Rumours, Bad language, Steve being a sweetheart, Implied smut.

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Steve looked at you, arms crossed over his massive chest as he leant against his desk.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Captain. I have a job to do, you know? I’m not here to be at your beck and call. If you’re going to fire me, get on with it.” You didn’t know why you were feeling so defensive. No, scratch that - you did know. Yours and Steve’s relationship was public now and although the other Avengers had been supportive but otherwise nonplussed, the same couldn’t be said for your other colleagues. You’d already heard whispers about how soon it would be until you were promoted, and people wondering if you were sucking Stark’s dick as well. 

You’d been trying to work off your frustration by balancing some spreadsheets - which on reflection was probably not the best tactic - when the message had popped up on your screen from Steve asking you to come and see him. It had only increased your ire, because it had also increased your anxiety. Was he going to call it off? Was he going to fire you? Your thoughts started to race and by the time you got to Steve’s office you were a ball of anxious, angry energy.

Steve sighed at your waspish tone, and a small pang of guilt rolled around in your stomach. “I’m sorry,” you apologised. “It’s just that I have a lot to do today, and there’s stuff going on, and…”

Steve stepped forward, placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you to a chair. “Please,” he said softly. “Sit down.” You did so with a huff, but you stayed perched on the edge, your right leg jiggling. Steve grabbed hold of another chair and pulled it nearer, sitting as well so he wasn’t looming over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, face full of concern.

“Me? I’m fine.” You smiled to enforce your false bravado, but it was clear that Steve wasn’t fooled. He reached out for one of your hands, encasing it in both of his.

“I’ve heard the whispers.” His confession was quiet - tentative - as if you were a bomb he was trying to disarm.

You jumped back to your feet, pulling your hand from his loose grip and started to pace up and down. “I fucking hate them all,” you bit out. “No-one has ever questioned my ability to do my job before, and now every decision I make, every piece of work I hand out, is being debated. My competence is being brought into disrepute.” You threw your hands in the air. “Maybe this was all a colossal arse-nugget of a mistake? I got too greedy and I’m paying the price.”

Steve was on his feet and in front of you in seconds, one hand gripping your waist and the other cupping your cheek. “There is no way this was a mistake.” He dropped his head and kissed you hungrily. The anger inside you shifted into desire and you kissed him back with all the ferocity that had built up inside you. Your tongue battled his and your teeth nipped at his lower lip as your hands fisted into the front of his shirt. 

When you broke apart you were both panting, the evidence of Steve’s own ardour prodding you in the hip. Shame rushed through you, and you took a step back. “I-I have to go,” you stammered out and rushed from the door, smoothing your blouse as you went so as to not add any more grist for the rumour-mill. 

You were snippy the rest of the day and unsurprised when you heard whispers of a ‘lovers tiff’. Bunch of bastards. You avoided everyone the best you could, even Steve, your isolation giving you a small modicum of peace. At least, when it came time to go home the weather outside was kind and your commute didn’t make your mood too much worse. However, in a move that you should have anticipated, as you exited the elevator on your floor, you found Steve, in his signature lean, outside your door. You nudged him to the side with barely a glance and without a single word as you unlocked your door and stalked inside. Steve’s footsteps were heavy behind you. You shed your coat and kicked off your shoes before making your way through to the kitchen, where you quickly filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

“I spoke to Stark,” Steve rumbled from behind you. “It’s not fair that you’re being harassed like this, and I’m not seeing any comeback.”

“Welcome to Misogyny 101, Rogers,” you replied, a defeated tone to your voice. Now you were in your safe space, your walls were collapsing and you knew you were on the verge of tears. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the sob and then Steve was behind you, turning off the stove and wrapping you in his arms.

His hands rubbed your back and he let out gentle shushing noises as you hiccuped into his shirt. “They’re all a bunch of fucking cunts,” you mumbled into his chest and you heard Steve snort in amusement, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to your lips.

“It’ll die down soon I’m sure, sweetheart,” Steve placated. “All we need to do is wait for Tony to do something ridiculous, which as he hasn’t done anything like that in two weeks, it’s due to happen anytime soon.” Your lips twitched up a bit more against the cotton pressed against your face. “I’m sorry that this is happening to you.” He moved, putting a bit of space between you, so he could cup your face in his palms and tilt your face up. You must look a state, you thought.

“You are so special to me,” Steve continued, “and it pains me that people aren’t treating you with the respect you deserve.”

“You can’t do anything about them,” you shrugged. “Saying something would just make it worse.”

Just then, a twinkle appeared in Steve’s eye. “I might not be able to do anything about them, but I can at least show you that respect.” He swept you up into his arms and you let out a shriek at the surprise of it. He was inside your bedroom with a few strides and placed you down on your feet. He quickly discarded his shirt and for a moment you were mesmerised by the sight of his chest as he lay down on your bed. “If they won’t treat you like a Queen,” he said, “then I will. Clothes off, your Highness.”

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, but began to unbutton your blouse. “What on earth are you going on about, Steve?”

With a smile he gestured towards his face. “Your throne awaits, Your Majesty. I want you to come and sit. Let me worship you.”

Oh! you thought. This was a new dynamic. This was Steve just giving to you because he wanted you to feel good. As you shimmied out of your skirt, you could feel more tears prickling at your eyes.

“Uh-uh. No tears,” Steve reprimanded with a wag of his finger. “No unless they’re orgasm related.”

You smiled softly as you climbed onto the bed, dropping a kiss to his lips. Steve’s arms came around you and pulled you close, with a not-so-subtle grope to your ass. “A throne, hmm,” you mused. “A girl could get used to this.” Steve smiled at you, and then without warning he lifted you to settle over his face.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he commanded.

So you did.

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[massivedrickhead]

32 for the sleepy prompts please 🥰

32. "Those energy drinks really aren't good for you."

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

“Those energy drinks really aren’t good for you.”

Chloe’s voice startled Beca so much that she almost jumped out of her chair.

“Jesus, Chloe,” she said, cleaning up the spilled drops of Red Bull from her desk with a wipe of her sleeve. 

Chloe frowned, arms folded across her chest as she raised her eyebrows at her wife. Beca saw her eyeing the numerous cans on her desk.

“These aren’t all from today,” Beca said, hastily sweeping them into her trashcan. 

“Uh huh,” Chloe said, clearly not believing her. “They really aren’t good for you, Bec.”

Beca frowned and picked up the can, squinting as she tried to read the nutritional information. “They aren’t? I could have sworn these were full of vitamins or something.”

“Don’t be a smartass when I’m mad at you,” Chloe said. 

Beca grinned. “Come on, you can’t stay mad at me.” She took hold of Chloe’s hand and tugged her towards her. “I don’t drink coffee, so this is what I have instead.”

“You’ll be up all night-”

“I won’t,” Beca said, cutting her off. “This stuff doesn’t even really affect me anymore.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better! Your body is so used to all this crap that it’s just built up a tolerance to it!”

“You know, a lot of people in my industry would just smoke crack instead. I think, personally, this is better,” Beca said, trying not to smirk. 

“You’re being an ass,” Chloe said. “Here I am, worried about your health, and you aren’t taking me seriously.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, tugging at Chloe’s hand again until she was sat in her lap. “Would it make you feel better if I switched to sugar-free?”

Chloe pulled a face. “It would make me feel better if you switched to water.”

“A surefire way of stopping me from falling asleep at my desk,” Beca said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“If you slept properly at night, then you wouldn’t be falling asleep at your desk, and if you weren’t drinking seven cans of Red Bull a day, you’d be sleeping properly at night,” Chloe said. “Please, Bec, I’m being serious. Can you try and cut back?”

“Is it genuinely worrying you that much?” Beca asked. Chloe nodded. “Then I’ll cut back.” She picked up the can on her desk. “My last one until tomorrow, I promise.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. 

“My last one until Friday? Saturday? I can’t have one on Saturday?”

“You aren’t working on Saturday, so you don’t need to stop yourself from falling asleep at your desk,” Chloe said. “Your last one until Monday. Unless you want to put that one in the fridge and you can have it tomorrow?”

Beca pulled a face. “Ew, flat redbull, no thanks.” She took a sip and sighed. “My last until Monday. The things I do for you.” 

“I’m a very lucky woman,” Chloe said, unable to resist an eye-roll. Chloe got off Beca’s lap so she could let her get back to work.

“You’re going to have to deal with me when I get a headache tonight from withdrawal,” Beca said, turning back to her computer. 

“A small price to pay,” Chloe said. 

“I’m going to be a real baby about it!”

“I know you are!”

-

Later that night Chloe was reading a book on the sofa when Beca finally emerged from her office.

“It’s about time,” Chloe said, glancing up as Beca dropped onto the sofa beside her. “Dinner is almost done, are you hungry?”

Beca groaned in response, her head coming to rest on Chloe’s lap.

“Let me guess,” Chloe said. “Headache?”

Beca nodded.

Chloe sighed and started running her fingers through Beca’s hair. 

“M’tired,” Beca mumbled. “My head hurts. I’m grumpy.”

Chloe had to fight the urge to chuckle. 

“I know,” she said. “Stay here, I’ll get you something.”

Chloe got off the sofa, ignoring Beca’s protests, and went into the kitchen. 

She returned with a glass of water and some Advil, before making a trip back to dish up two bowls of mac and cheese. 

“Here,” Chloe said. “You’ll feel better once you eat and drink something.”

Beca stirred her fork listlessly around the bowl, feeling vaguely nauseous. 

“Eat,” Chloe said again. “I promise it’ll help.”

Beca sighed and took a bite. 

When she finished she took two Advil with a swallow of water, and then Chloe frowned at her until she downed the whole glass.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, smiling as Beca immediately put her head back down on her lap. “Feel better?”

“A little,” Beca said. She yawned. “Why am I so tired?”

“I feel like you don’t need me to say it’s because you didn’t drink seven Red Bulls today,” Chloe said. 

“Is this just what you feel like all the time?” Beca asked. 

“No,” Chloe said with a small chuckle. “But I’m not crashing right now.”

“It’s a good job I never got into actual drugs because this sucks,” Beca grumbled.

“Wow, you really are being a baby about this, huh?” Chloe said.

“Shut up,” Beca said, laughing. “I’m suffering.”

“I know,” Chloe said, running her hand through Beca’s hair. “You’re being really brave.”

“I am,” Beca said. 

They sat in silence for a while, Chloe’s hand moving constantly through Beca’s hair, as the TV played quietly in the background.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Chloe said. 

“I’d do literally anything for you, Chlo’,” Beca mumbled. “You should know that by now.”

“Are you falling asleep?” Chloe asked. “It’s 7:30.”

“Just resting my eyes,” Beca said, stifling a yawn. 

“I totally believe you.” 

[ilikeyoshi]

TEETH UPDATE!!!!

it's good news y'all!!!!!

as you're probably aware i started asking for help paying for a root canal i was told by my dentist last year i needed, and it was estimated the full procedure (root canal, crown, etc) would cost about $2,100.

completely unable to afford that or even their longest payment plan (6 months), i went through various options, but a sudden, massive vet bill over the summer decimated any chance i had of paying that price alone. i reached out for help via crowdfunding, and raised an extremely generous and eternally appreciated $325. at the same time, i began searching for alternative offices in hopes of finding a cheaper price or longer payment plan.

i finally went to a dentistry school last thursday because, if your care can be preformed by their students, it's around 50% off. their estimate was $1,200; BUT, upon completing their exam, they told me i almost definitely didn't need a root canal, and a filling would completely do.

we did the endo test today to confirm, and i got my filling and full deep cleaning for my gingivitis for a total of $519. the filling itself was $130. 😭

thank you SO, SO SO SO much to everyone who donated; your help covered more than half of this bill and allowed my family to cover the remaining couple hundred. i've cried SO MANY TIMES the past six days, and most of that was TODAY when the student dentist did my endo test and confirmed i just needed a filling. i have NO idea why my old dentist told me it had to be a root canal, and kept telling me i needed to do it soon (despite that i proceeded to be able to put it off for a year because i couldn't afford it), but i honestly don't care. i'm just so fucking relieved to have this done.

thank you again. even at this school of dentistry, i may not have been able to afford so much of the treatment i need without your help. i was able to fix this before it needed extraction or it hospitalized me with an abcess. you guys saved me a world of pain, if not my actual life. thank you SO MUCH.

[caroline-writes]

Chapter 2: The dragon’s den 

Monday came and Monday went and Violet stayed in her apartment. Her phone had buzzed off and, on all day, and she had once again ignored every call or text that she had received. She scrolled through a list of job opportunities, pages and pages of jobs which did not appeal to her or that she was far too over qualified for. She narrowed her gaze as she saw an almost identical advert for a job at the archives, that was the last straw for her as she slammed the laptop shut and pushed herself to her feet. 

Violet picked up her phone and scrolled through the missed calls and texts before she found someone who she actually wanted to talk to: 

Rhi: If you don’t reply I’m going to assume that you’re dead and that means I get custody of Tairn so give me something girl. 

Violet: Not dead. 

Rhi: Oh, thank the gods. I was about to send Ridoc and Sawyer over there to break down your door. 

Rhi: Don’t leave me on read Vi. What’s going on? 

Violet: Lilith happened. She messed with the job I had lined up told me to be in the office today. 

Rhi: You didn’t show 

Rhi: Vi shes going to kill you 

Violet: I’d like to see her try. 

-

This was stupid. Beyond stupid, it was reckless and was bound to get her excommunicated from the family once and for all. After her little text exchange with Rhiannon, Violet had decided that if she was dead to her mother already, she might as well make it permanent. She had sent an apology text to Mira knowing that her sister would be the one who be paying the price of Violet’s insubordination. The journey today would have needed two trains and a bus, Violet’s legs hadn’t been strong enough for the walking in between so she’d ordered herself a taxi. The large modern glass facade of the building loomed above her as she stepped out of the taxi, Tairn pressed himself against her side almost immediately.  

Large metal letters spelt out Tyrrendor above the huge entrance. She was literally about to walk into the heart of enemy territory. She braced herself before pulling on Tairn’s lead and marching with purpose towards the revolving door, she stepped inside and moved into the building. The interior of the foyer opened up into a tall ceiling with wide, open, space with a long reception desk full of people waiting to greet her. Violet explained who she was and was told that she and Tairn could wait, she moved over to a large modern black leather sofa and perched on the edge. 

The competition between Tyrrendor and Navarre as pharmaceutical providers had been going since long before Violet had been born. It had always been one side or the other, and here Violet was stepping over to the dark side and betraying her family while she was at it. Her phone buzzed and she knew without looking that it was Mira calling her, she contemplated answering when a voice called her name. 

“Violet?” the voice was familiar but she couldn’t quite place it, she looked up and tried to hide her confusion as her eyes met the light blue of her neighbour turned hero, Liam, “I know I said I owed you, but coming to my work is a bit much.” she could tell that he was joking but that didn’t stop her cheeks from reddening slightly. The last thing she needed was him thinking that she was some crazy stalker. 

“No...I’m-” 

She was about to explain when a pink haired woman approached and spoke directly to her, “Sorrengail? Mr Riorson will see you now.” Violet quickly got to her feet, too quickly, she held onto the coach for a moment as stars clouded her vision. 

“Sorrengail?” She heard Liam mutter as she followed the pink haired woman towards a lift. 

Together they stepped into the lift and the pink haired woman pressed 22, they stood in silence as the lift counted up, as the doors opened on the 22nd floor Violet pulled in a deep breath. This was it. Now or never. No turning back. All of those cliches ran through her head as she fell into step once more with Tairn trotting beside her. The three of them stopped at a pair of large mahogany doors, the pink haired woman knocked twice before opening a door and ushering Violet inside. 

The room was decorated with more dark mahogany, floor to ceiling windows gave a view out over the city and standing silhouetted against the sky was the man she had come here to see, Fen Rioson turned to face her, he had a warm smile plastered to his lips which did not meet his eyes, they regarded her with calculated suspicion. 

“Please,” he extended a hand as he pointed to a high-backed leather arm chair, “Violet, take a seat. We have much to discuss.” The soft click of the door closing signalled that Violet was now alone with Fen, she followed his instruction and moved to sit in one of the leather chairs while Fen moved to sit opposite her, “I have to say that I am more than a little surprised when I saw that a Sorrengail wanted to have a meeting with me.” It wasn’t a question but he was clearly probing for the reason that she was here. 

Violet paused thinking of how much she wanted to divulge, honesty felt like it would be the best policy, “My mother,” she paused as she watched his dark eyes become momentarily hostile as they narrowed slightly, “she effectively made it clear that while I am an asset to the company, I don’t get to decide for myself who I work for so I decided that she would have no say at all.” 

Fen leaned back in the chair, he steepled his fingers and pressed them against his lips, “So you want to work here?” 

“If you’ll have me.” she reached into her bag and pulled her resume out and tried to hand it to him. 

“Violet,” he held a hand up and watched as she pulled the papers back towards herself, “I know all about your academic achievements. Your work at Navarre speaks for itself, however, I don’t know how I feel hiring a Sorrengail...now I’m sure you are nothing like your mother but the optics on this are something I have to consider.” 

Violet felt cold, she’d come here not expecting to be welcomed with open arms but to be turned away based on her name alone had not even occurred to her. “So, you’re turning me away?” she asked her hand placed carefully on the top of Tairn’s head. 

Fen blinked slowly before pursing his lips, “Not exactly.” he replied before rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully before running a hand through his closely cropped salt and pepper hair, “If you’re offering me loyalty I’ll take it, but that sort of trust needs to be earnt. I don’t know enough about you Violet to say that I can trust you yet.” 

Her throat felt tight at the idea that she needed to prove her loyalty, “And that would mean?” 

He smiled at her forthright attitude, “A probationary period. You use that time to show me that this is where your loyalty lies and then we can talk contracts.” Violet nodded slowly, at this point she knew she had no other choice. It was either go crawling back to Navarre or do exactly as Fen had said and show that she could be trusted. 

- 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind! That’s it isn’t it?” Mira was livid, beyond livid, she stormed back and forth in the kitchen of Violet’s apartment, “You went to Riorson? They’re the enemy Vi!” 

Violet sat with her head back on the sofa her eyes closed as she listened to her sister pace, “Mom forced my hand. I had no other choice.” Violet’s tone was noncommittal, resigned to her fate, “He almost turned me away based on the fact that my name is Sorrengail. He trusts me about as far as he can throw me Mira, I can’t work for her any more. After all the stuff with Dain and then she sabotaged the job at the archives. I don’t understand her.” Violet sighed in annoyance that her sister didn’t seem to understand that this was truly her last option. 

Mira’s voice sounded conflicted, “I’m sure she had her reasons Vi, she always does.” 

“Yeah, the reason is she wants to control me and I am done being controlled Mira!” Violet all but shouted back at her older sister. Mira’s silence was loud, Violet opened her eyes and glanced up and Mira who looked pained, “She’s always wanted to keep me under her thumb, I get it, I’m weaker than you and Brennan ever was but I need to do this for myself.” 

Mira reached out and placed her hand on Violet’s head, “She’ll tell me I can’t see you, she’ll feed me some corporate line that if I see you again, I’ll have betrayed her.” she sounded close to tears now. 

“If she does that, she’s proving that she’s the monster I always thought she was.” Violet replies with a shrug. 

- 

Rhi: Tyrrendor really? 

Violet: News travels fast 

Rhi: Your mom is losing it 

Rhi: Like seriously she shouted at three different people today 

Violet: And she’s normally so calm. Sorry, I guess. 

Rhi: We on for coffee tomorrow? 

Violet: You telling me she hasn’t banned you from seeing me? 

Rhi: I’d like to see her try. 

Violet smiled to herself as she put her phone away Tairn pushed his nose into her knee reminding her that it was time for her evening pills, as she walked across her apartment to collect them there was a gentle knock on her door. Her sister had been gone for hours and she doubted that Rhiannon was going to be paying her a surprise visit when she was seeing her tomorrow. She walked over to the door and opened it to reveal her neighbour and now work colleague? Liam stood, at her door, with a shy smile. 

“Hi,” he greeted with a wave, “so hi, yeah...I’m having a house warming party on Friday and seeing as I guess we’re more than just neighbours and damsels in distress to one another now, I wanted to invite you.” Liam chuckled to himself and Violet couldn’t help but smile too. 

“You don’t think I’m a crazy stalker?” She asked leaning on the door frame. 

He beamed at her, “The thought did briefly cross my mind but then Imogen came to collect you so I realised you were there on more official business. I uh didn’t realise you were a Sorrengail though. I imagine that went down well.” 

“Like a lead balloon. My mother is working on having me emancipated or whatever the opposite is for when a parent no longer wants to be involved with a child.” she laughed again but stopped as she realised that Liam hadn’t joined her, “I’ll be fine, she’ll get over it and if she doesn’t, I’ll find a way make Mira come over to the dark side too.” 

“The dark side? I that what you think we are?” he quirked an eyebrow at her with a small smile. 

Violet smiled back, “I guess only time will tell.” 

Liam nodded in agreement, “Friday, 7:30, you should come. It’d be nice to actually get to know you rather picking you up off the floor or seeing you at work.” 

She blushed again at the memory of their first encounter, she was sure that she was never going to live that down, he would be re-telling that story for years to come, “Yeah that sounds good. I have physio at 6 until 7 but I’ll be sure to join when I can.” she wasn’t even sure why she had added that she had physio, something about Liam made him easy to trust. She wanted to get to know him, wanted to be his friend. 

“I’ll probably see you around the office before then but I’m looking forward to it.” he saluted her and stepped away from her door before heading into his flat number 14, he’d never actually shared which neighbour he was, she waited until he had closed his door before stepping back inside and pushing her door closed as well. She looked back at her apartment wondering for a moment what she had been about to do before he had knocked when an insistent whine from Tairn reminded her, ah yes, meds. 

[little-pissbaby]

as always, we're complaining under the cut. tw for medical PTSD, mentions of medical procedures, personal/graphic descriptions of my fucked up little body, extremely privileged whining, it's worth it for the cat at the bottom tho

I am exhausted by the number of appointments I have. I've become the kind of person who has multiple appointments every single week. This week and next week are three appointment weeks, and those appointments always lead to scheduling MORE test/procedures/office visits.

I had an appointment with my urogynecologist. Given my history of neurogenic bladder and severe stage IV endometriosis, she's in agreement with me that it might be time to at least consider a bowel diversion, if not a total colonoscopy. This would be done in addition to a bladder diversion because self-catheterization has proven unsustainable and, frankly, dangerous for me to try to continue. I'll likely have a foley placed tomorrow morning that will stay in until I can get in to the urological surgeon, who has not called to schedule yet. I have the colorectal surgery consult next month and the neurourology consult a month after that. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.

I also have an EEG in a few days to see if the blackout episodes I've been having are epilepsy, and if it is, I'm not sure what we'll do since I'm already on a good amount of anticonvulsants. I have a feeling I'm going to leave that test with a migraine and no answers, which was exactly how the EMG/NCS I had done in my hand last Friday went.

Other things I've started include using a CPAP machine. I thought this shit was supposed to help you sleep better, but instead I'm waking up many many times in a two hour window, the pressure being pushed into my lungs is dislocating my ribs, I'm getting bloated from wearing it, and the pressure is coming out of my eyes and ears too due to a deformity in my inner ears called patulous eustachian tubes, so now my constant migraine is back in full force. I'm nothing but bloated and irritable as hell, but if I don't use it for at least four hours a day for at least 24 days a month, medicaid won't pay for it and I will have to pay out of pocket to buy the machine. My mother price checked it, it costs ~$1300 to buy the machine I have. I might just give up and give it to my brother, who also needs a CPAP but who doesn't also have EDS and is, therefore, not prone to ribs dislocating.

I met with my 4th electrophysiologist and that was a frustratingly and dangerously nonproductive appointment. He did not speak or understand spoken English well enough to be allowed to practice medicine in an English-speaking country imo. I don't give a shit about an accent, I don't think people need to "go back to where they came from" or that they need to speak English exclusively, but man it is so important in the field of medicine to be able to actually understand what your patient is saying to you. He had no idea what the condition I have even was, and he assumed I made all of these diagnoses for attention but would "humor me" and wrote IN HIS NOTES that I "insisted" on a holter monitor and tilt table test. I got these orders from Duke university, the closest university to me that has a genetic electrophysiology department and a dysautonomia clinic, both of which I was being seen at until Duke stopped taking my insurance. I was trying to tell this absolute worm brain that I was telling him what the top specialists GLOBALLY told me to have done, but I was just being young and attention-seeking I guess, I'm so dangerously angry about it, it makes my chest hurt to try and articulate just how badly this EP fucked it up for me.

I realized in the middle of a visit with my PCP on the 30th that I am not working towards a goal. Most people go to the doctor with the goal of Get Better Enough To Work, or Get Better Enough To Take Care Of The Kids. I don't have that. I'll never be able to hold down a job and I can't and don't want to have children.

I feel like the shittiest friend on Earth too because a good friend of mine only lives four hours away, but as much as we'd both like to visit, I have to schedule everything in my life around what's starting to look like a year packed with surgeries. I can't just pack up and go visit him, I come with medical equipment now. Between meds, splints, incontinence supplies, and the CPAP, I have to basically haul around a small urgent care center everywhere I go. I hate that I have to be planned around.

For a few wins, I do not have carpal tunnel, and when I had my A1C checked at my last PCP appointment, it was 4.9! Every doctor who finds that out informs me even their own A1C isn't that good because they like some specific sweet treat too much. My secret? No one has said they liked something that doesn't have dairy in it, and I've had a dairy allergy since birth.

anyway. I turned 26 just over a month ago and my beloved medical advisor turned 1 year old the same day. she's my birthday buddy :) it's weird having an Adult Cat in the house now, she's not the teeny tiny kitten that sneezed in my eye and gave me pinkeye anymore.

thanks 4 reading, besties. until my next frustratingly whiny and Packed Full of Info update <3

pictured: my big adult girl and medical supervisor 🥰

[salamanderinspace]

How Many Holes Make a Grave Digger?

short Good Omens season 2 fic. On Ao3 also.

(full disclosure: I didn't watch episodes 5 and 6.)

Elspeth tried to "be good." She went to a more reputable inn for the night, but only ordered corn porridge--that's what a good one does, yeah? Good and virtuous ladies don't make themselves fat on roast in the middle of the week. She only took one pint and turned in early. In the morning, she had a wash--something she never enjoyed, what with the cold and the damp creeping in her ears and making her feel all moldy.

When she went down to pay, she gave the barman a guinnea, and waited for her change at the bar. A lot of sad sacks were strewn around at midday, out of work and out of hope, burying themselves in ale. Some looked at her a little too long. Too too long, in fact, as the barman didn't return. "Oi!" she called. "My change, sir?" He didn't come out. What does a good and virtuous young woman do? she wondered. Certainly not go jumping over bars and making demands. She looked around, and as she did, luck would have it, she saw someone pass out the window. A constable. She ran him down, catching him on the sleeve, at which he drew his baton.

"What's this?" he barked.

"This innkeeper is jacking me for my change, sir," Elspeth explained. "I paid him a guinnea and he went in the back."

"Oh yeah?" He looked her up and down. "And where'd a rat like you get a guinnea? Found it in the gutter, didja? Run off or I'll take you to the station."

He seemed to mean it, so Elspeth did as she was told. She kept the rest of the money close, after that. She thought of going to a lawyer but couldn't be sure he wouldn't do just the same. No--she needed to look like a credible lady, first, so she went to a shop and ordered a dress. "Can't I just wear it out?" she asked.

"I've got to order the fabric," the tailor lady huffed. "And it'll take time to do the adjustments. You never bought a dress before?" She looked suspicious.

"Me mum handled all that," Elspeth lied. "Before she passed." The fib was automatic, and the urchin kicked herself after. Lying wasn't "being good," was it?

The lady said to come back next week, so it was another week sleeping in the gutter. Without Wee Morag to watch over her, Elspeth couldn't rest but in short snips, for the danger of men lurking. She developed a cough. In a week she fetched the dress and paid the hefty price for it, and with a hefty tip, the tailor let her have a wash there. "You're not going to ruin it with your filthy streaks," she said, but she looked sympathetic.

Elspeth went and got a bite to eat. She felt desperately sleepy, after, but still had nowhere to lay her head, and she figured she should go straight to a law office. "I'm here to buy a farm," she announced, after waiting on the hard chairs in the waiting room. Her dress was too warm in some places and too cool in others. She couldn't slouch properly in her chair, either, as that would pull on the laces.

"And your husband?" asked the law man, without looking up from his letters.

"Dead," Elspeth said. Another lie.

"Sorry to hear it," he said, not sounding sorry. "Well, what's the property in question?"

"Was hoping you'd help me find one."

"Were you?" He looked up at that, and raised a brow. "That can be a time-consuming matter," he said. "My hourly rate--"

"Yeah, I can pay," she answered.

"Very well. Come back next week, and we'll look at a few properties."

That bit went as smoothly as one could hope. Most places were out of Elspeth's price range, and she had to settle for a very wee lot with only a few sheep and chickens established. "Will you be needing to hire day labor?" the lawyer asked.

"Ah, no, I've got it," Elspeth said. She signed the papers and the lawyer left her with a bill. The house on the land was small and dark--no windows. The only nice thing about it was that she could hunt and fish at her leisure--though she'd have to teach herself how to do the fishing, as she'd never had a proper pole for it.

The days were long and lonely and hard. The lies came often. Merchants who wouldn't do business with an unwed woman. Merchants who tried to take her for twice the value of their goods. The money ran out before winter and she was forced to creep into the neighboring manor's coal-cellar and take a little, just a little, to get through. She imagined herself as a miner, digging for ores. Sometimes there was pretend and sometimes there were lies and it all ran together.

She'd imagine Wee Morag with her. Would talk to her, make jokes, even share a touch or two. She began to wonder, after all she'd seen with the two strange men in the graveyard and their dark magick, if spirits were a great deal realer than she'd thought when she was hawking corpses. She'd never seen a ghost, after all, not until … whatever those men were. On her market days she dawdled at the occultists' stall, and eventually struck up a conversation.

And her cough never really went away.

The days were a river of sameness. The same chores, the same dark and damp. She planted crops, which got blight and died. Paying the doctor for a bad lambing wiped out her savings. The sun rose and set and she drank and slept and it started to feel like there was very little reason not to go and get another vile of laudanum.

And if there was nothing to lose. What could it hurt to..?

That's how Elspeth found herself under the full moon, with the occultist and his eleven apprentices. The smell of charcoal and goat's blood, of briars and late-season lavender. The crisp air of October. Her heart beat with the chanting, the initiation. She called out to Wee Morag and felt her return. She swore herself to her Dark Master. She was no longer alone. She would never be alone again.

And she would never "be good."

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 16-07: Before the Storm (暴雨來臨前) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 16-05

♡———♡

I quickly got in touch with the fabric supplier. Mr. Shao told me that the factory was mass-producing filament lyocell and could provide it all to us at the same price.

After confirming the fabric via video, I immediately went to the purchasing department and remotely signed the contract with him.

However, strangely, the purchasing department asked me to keep this matter confidential and to announce to the public that the fabric was out of stock and production was suspended.

It's probably because they're afraid the fabric will be snatched up again. I didn't pay much attention to it.

-

As I walked back to the office, I mentally calculated the arrangements for the next five days. Although the time was tighter, my steps were lighter than ever before.

Pushing open the office door, I was startled. Manman, Mao Ge, Jiang Lai, who had returned from a business trip, and even Hao Shuai were all sitting at their workstations.

You: Why are you all here? Didn't I tell you to go home and rest?

I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was my own illusion.

Mao Ge: Well, the water heater in my house broke, so I came to the company to take a shower. Now I'm full of energy and ready to work.

You: ?

Li Manman: I left my earring at the company and came back to get it. But since I'm here, I might as well do some work.

Mao Ge: What do you mean, "since I'm here"? Who would believe that?

Li Manman: As long as she believes it, it's fine. Keep your voice down.

Hao Shuai: I'm not like them. I just happened to be passing by after working out. Handsome guys never make excuses.

Hao Shuai pointed to his bulging gym bag and suddenly noticed Mao Ge blinking frantically at him. However, he couldn't understand at all, so he had to ask Manman for help, constantly asking "What does that mean?"

Mao Ge and Manman both put their hands on their foreheads at the same time, with an expression of "I don't know him."

Hao Shuai: You guys didn't come back on purpose, did you?! And you didn't even bring me!

Li Manman: Forget it, forget it, I'll confess. It was Mao Ge's idea for everyone to come back to work and share some of your pressure.

Li Manman: Who told you not to say anything? You're truly Director Qi's student, with the exact same temper.

Mao Ge: We had no choice but to secretly report to the director.

Although I had already understood from their clumsy acting that they had come back to help me, when I heard it, my heart still felt a pang of bitterness. I wanted to say something but felt that nothing was enough.

"No friends in the workplace" is an old saying. So I'm so lucky to have met them.

You: Thank you, everyone.

Mao Ge: You want to dismiss us with just a thank you? We want a big meal.

You: My treat today.

After that day, time still flew by like a rocket, but the principle of "things will turn around when they reach their worst" seemed to have come true for me. The work in this stage progressed exceptionally smoothly.

I don't know if it's because the fabrics were finally complete or because I finally regained my confidence. I think it's probably both.

-

On the weekend, I took advantage of the rare free time to go to the flagship store to prepare for the new product launch.

Based on this theme, I re-planned the store layout, from the main color to the floor stickers, and worked until the afternoon to finally complete it.

Saleswoman: Um, what should we call you? Director?

You: I'm not the director. I'm the manager of Pristine. You can call me Y/N.

The girl's mouth opened wide, and she quickly extended her hand, excitedly shaking mine several times, introducing herself as Xiaoyu.

Xiaoyu: You're so amazing. So young to become a manager. I want to be like you too.

Xiaoyu: The new products this time are all super beautiful. I also like design. I've even drawn design drafts. Can you help me take a look?

You: Of course.

Store Manager: The food is here, the food is here. We've been busy until now. I'm so sorry to have the Pristine manager eat boxed lunches with us.

You: It's my job. Thank you for treating me to a meal.

Opening the lunch box lid, I saw Xiaoyu picking out all the stir-fried lamb with scallions and putting it into a paper cup.

You: You don't eat this dish?

Xiaoyu: This? I'm preparing it for a little beggar.

You: A little beggar?

Xiaoyu: Yes, he's still a child. He's been appearing here these past few days. I guess he sleeps under the bridge over there at night.

Xiaoyu: You don't know how kind that child is, a bit silly too.

Xiaoyu: I've seen him several times feeding the big black dog next door, even though he's so thin himself.

Store Manager: Isn't it because the child is good-looking that you noticed him?

Xiaoyu: Who doesn't like good-looking people? If he were born into a rich family, he could debut and act in movies.

You: Is he that good-looking?

Xiaoyu: He's super good-looking. I'll take you to see him.

My curiosity was completely piqued by Xiaoyu.

-

He was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, with messy hair and a white T-shirt stained with grayish-white dirt at the hem. It was unclear whether it was wall dust or dried cement, but it looked like it hadn't been changed in days.

He squatted on the ground, his head lowered, looking at something unknown. From afar, his entire being blended into the dirty wall.

Xiaoyu: When he raises his face, you'll definitely be amazed.

As if hearing our words, the boy quickly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over us. His messy bangs couldn't hide those turquoise eyes.

You: …… Osborn?!

His face was filled with vigilance and fierceness, but it couldn't conceal another kind of natural innocence.

No, he should be the other half of Osborn's soul.

Looking at him, the chaotic scene from that day rushed into my mind.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, forced to make a life-or-death choice between two Osborn's. When I rushed to the explosion site, I didn't see either of them....

Although Osborn later sent me a text message to say he was safe, no matter how I asked, he always remained silent about the situation of that other half of his soul. I didn't expect to encounter him here.

Should I tell Osborn? No, no, if they fight again, it might be even more intense than last time. I planned to pretend I didn't see anything and turn to leave, but there had always been some questions in my heart that I couldn't let go of.

Can souls really exist apart from the body? Why did he do that that day? And is it really okay for him to appear on the street like this?

While I was hesitating, the boy had already recognized me and was clearly startled.

He stood up, his expression becoming a bit complicated. I couldn't describe it, but I could be sure he didn't have any hostility towards me because his eyes no longer had the madness of that day, but were instead calm.

The kind soul... shouldn't do anything to me, right? I remember he was quite friendly at the convenience store.

I let Xiaoyu go back first and gestured for him to follow me with my eyes, intending to ask about things Osborn wouldn't tell me.

-

I was thinking about how to start the conversation along the way, and before I knew it, I had walked a long distance.

Looking back, the boy had already stopped, his eyes fixed on me, vigilant like a small animal in the jungle that had smelled gunpowder.

I didn't think much of it and only felt that it was inconvenient to talk from afar, so I walked towards him. To my surprise, he immediately took several steps back, his face filled with wariness and warning.

Come on, you were the one who kidnapped me last time. If anyone should be wary, it should be me, right?

I was a little confused, but also afraid of angering him, so I stopped where I was.

You: Is this okay?

The boy hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Then there was a minute of silence. I hadn't figured out how to ask yet, so I just kept looking at him until he frowned uncomfortably and his eyes darted away.

You: Um, do you remember me?

Boy: No.

You: ???

But he clearly remembered me just now, so why is he denying it now!

You: I just have some things to ask you.

Boy: If you just have something to ask me, why did you walk so far?

It took me a while to react.

So he thought I had ulterior motives and deliberately walked such a long distance to lure him to a deserted place? Do I look like a bad person?

And isn't he the kind part of the soul? Why was his first reaction to think the worst of people? He wasn't like this at the convenience store.

You: Since you think I have other intentions, why did you come with me?

You: You could have left halfway. Or do you also have other intentions towards me?

I took a big step closer and looked up at him, actually just wanting him to taste the feeling of being misunderstood. To my surprise, a clear panic flashed across the boy's face. He immediately turned his head, his bangs covering most of his expression.

Boy: I don't!

His tone was serious as if he was taking an oath, afraid I would convict him, but his ears turned bright red.

I was stunned for a moment and then burst out laughing. I never expected that fifteen-year-old Osborn would be so easily teased. But at the same time, I was relieved. It seemed he had just misunderstood me.

You: I know you don't. I was just kidding.

The boy was a little annoyed and looked at me sullenly until I stopped smiling.

Boy: What do you want to ask?

You: It's nothing major, just a few questions. What exactly--

However, the words reached my lips, and I suddenly lost my direction. Should I ask him why he's on the street? He wouldn't go to Osborn's house, would he?

Should I ask him why he doesn't return to Osborn's body? It's obvious there's a huge conflict between them. Or should I ask how Osborn was doing after the explosion that day?

Boy: You want to ask about that person, right?

You: Uh....

Boy: Then you should go find him. Why are you looking for me?

The boy showed a "I knew it" expression, and his face immediately turned cold. He dropped this sentence and turned to leave.

You: Why are you suddenly angry? Wait a minute--

However, he didn't turn back and walked away quickly, no less fast than the current Osborn. I chased after him, panting. As I stopped to catch my breath, the boy in front had already walked a long distance.

His back looked particularly thin, his entire being almost squeezed into a trembling flag by the oncoming wind, but his back was still straight.

The heavy, setting sun smoothly slid over his shoulders, leaving a fuzzy edge.

I suddenly felt a little dazed. In that dreamlike late night, Osborn also pulled me forward like this.

He held his head high, his back straight, looking so carefree. No one knew how much weight he was carrying that he shouldn't have to bear.

The boy in front, who never let down his guard, must have also experienced the violence and humiliation of Yuda Academy, the abandonment, and the moment of having his self-esteem crushed. And he seemed to be even more deeply trapped in the pain of the past than Osborn.

My heart suddenly felt a little sour. Seeing that he was about to disappear from my sight, I couldn't help but call out to him loudly.

You: Osborn!

I don't know if it was an illusion, but the boy seemed to pause for a moment before continuing forward. But this time he slowed down a lot, and I finally caught up to him.

You: You run too fast.

To prevent him from turning and leaving again, I immediately grabbed the corner of his clothes. The boy's body stiffened, and then he grabbed the hem and pulled it back forcefully.

I saw a pair of arms covered in veins and light pink scars.

He was too thin, although maybe it wasn't right to describe a soul that way, but the T-shirt hung loosely on him. Suddenly, I remembered Xiaoyu's words - he didn't have enough to eat himself, yet he fed the puppy.

Noticing my gaze, the boy immediately retracted his arms behind his back and tensed his face, but his expression was a little hurt.

Boy: What do you want?

You: I... I actually just wanted to ask if you're hungry.

Youth: No.

He spat out the two words expressionlessly, but his stomach growled the next second.

You: But I'm starving.

You: Let's go, I'll treat you to a meal.

-

It wasn't dinner time yet, and I figured he wouldn't like crowded places either, so I found a noodle shop on the street. There were only a few people in the shop, and it was clean and tidy.

You: What do you want to eat?

The cashier auntie looked at him warmly, but the boy seemed unused to such a scene and stood far away.

Boy: Anything is fine.

You: Then I'll have two bowls of mutton noodles. Can one of them have more meat?

Cashier Auntie: Yes, yes, that's 70 yuan in total.

After taking the receipt, we sat down facing each other, and there was another long silence.

I looked around and eventually my eyes fell back on him. I noticed a few red marks on the bridge of his nose, like scratches that hadn't scabbed over yet.

They must have been covered by his hair earlier, so I didn't notice.

I took out a band-aid from my bag and handed it to him. But before I could speak, he swatted my hand away.

Boy: What are you doing?

He seemed to subconsciously think of me as someone with bad intentions again.

You: You have a wound here. Here's a band-aid.

I pointed to my nose and then put the band-aid on the table, pushing it towards him.

The boy looked at the table and realized his reaction had been excessive. He opened his mouth and whispered an apology.

You: It's okay.

I shook my head.

After all, he's the kind part of the soul. No matter how much he puts up his defenses, he doesn't have much malice at heart.

If I invited him to dinner because of a sudden pang of heartache, then now, looking at fifteen-year-old Osborn sitting in front of me, a strange feeling slowly rose in my heart.

I used to feel guilty and regretful for breaking the promise all those years ago, countless times wondering if our lives would have been different if I had gone to the appointment.

Maybe it would be completely different from now, or maybe fate is too stubborn and nothing would change. But at least I would always remember him, and when he was abandoned or betrayed, I would stand by his side.

And now, as if time had heard my wish, it rewound back to many years ago.

I quietly looked at the boy in front of me. He was different from the Osborn in my memory. The boy who helped me melt the window with fire had now become agitated, more silent, and resistant to anyone's approach.

I don't know what happened in these three years, and I don't know if he still remembers that day. I really want to ask him.

Boy: Why do you keep looking at me?

You: You're good-looking.

The words came out of my mouth without thinking, and the boy's face turned red again. Fifteen or sixteen-year-old Osborn, it turns out, was so easily embarrassed.

I was about to ask him about what happened back then, but before I could speak, a boy suddenly rushed to our table and pinched his nose with both hands.

Child: Mom, it must be the smell from this person. He looks so dirty.

After saying that, he stuck his tongue out at us and ran away.

I was stunned for a moment. Did he say the boy smelled? But why couldn't I smell anything?

I sniffed hard, but I could only smell food and cooking fumes.

The noodle shop was quiet for a moment, and then whispers started, with the few gazes all turning towards us.

The boy's face suddenly turned pale. I thought he would stand up and scold the child, do what I imagined Osborn would do, but he didn't.

He remained silent, his head lowered. His eyes were completely hidden by his hair, and I could only see his tightly pursed lips, his lower lip bitten white.

Even though the anger surging around him was about to explode, he was still enduring it.

I looked at the instigator. The child saw me looking and arrogantly pinched his nose, even making a face.

What an ill-mannered child.

☾ Night: Angrily retort

☼ Light: Come to his defense

☼ [Light Choice: Come to his defense]

I stood up and quickly walked to the window, opening all of them.

You: This is a noodle shop. It's normal to have cooking fumes. Opening the windows for ventilation will do.

The breeze brought in the rich scent of camphor trees from the street, dispersing the accumulated smell in the noodle shop.

☼

☾ [Night Choice: Angrily retort]

I stood up abruptly and walked quickly to the window, opening all the windows.

You: This is a noodle restaurant, it's normal to have oily smoke, just open the window for ventilation.

You: I didn't smell anything. Child, you can still smell it from so far away, your nose is really unusual.

After finishing speaking, I took out a bottle of perfume from my bag, walked up to the boy and sprayed it a few times in the air around him.

You: Child, does it still smell like this?

The boy immediately covered his nose and stared at me.

The boy seemed unconvinced and wanted to say something, but his mother sternly scolded him.

Child: Mom, look at her--

Before the boy could finish his sentence, the middle-aged woman across from him closed her laptop, scolded him, and gave me an apologetic smile.

☾

Child's mom: I'm sorry, I didn't discipline my child well. I apologize.

The farce ended just like that.

I returned to my seat with satisfaction, but then I realized that I had stood up without asking him and had taken it upon myself to lecture the child. Would he feel offended?

Although we've only met three times, my intuition tells me he wouldn't be grateful for this.

I sat down nervously and, as expected, saw an unhappy face.

But contrary to my expectations, he wasn't angry. Instead, he was looking up at me with a confused expression, like a wronged child. The words "Why did you do that?" were clearly visible in his eyes.

It seemed like no one had ever believed in him or stood up for him.

My heart ached, and I couldn't help but reach out to touch his head, but he quickly dodged and returned to his impatient demeanor.

Boy: I didn't ask you to do that.

But even though he said that, his tone softened.

You: I hate rude kids myself. It has nothing to do with you.

Boy: Don't do that again in the future.

You: Why?

Boy: This time you were just lucky that the person you encountered didn't bother with you.

Boy: People who stand up for righteousness never end well.

Boy: Not only will others blame you, but when something happens to you, no one will stand up for you.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, not smiling, his expression full of sarcasm.

I suddenly shivered, remembering what Osborn told me about why he was sent to Yuda Academy.

He was never understood and was labeled as hopeless. In such a situation, people either "admit their mistakes" or "have no choice but to become bad." There's no other way.

Osborn chose to "become bad" and abandoned him (the kind boy). And he, having nothing left, had no choice but to "admit his mistakes."

He learned to grit his teeth and endure, but he couldn't harden his heart or become indifferent to everything. After seeing too much filth, he finally understood that justice and tolerance couldn't solve any problems.

So that's why he changed from a purely kind soul to what he is now. I couldn't describe the feeling in my heart, only that it was a pity, such a pity.

You: If someone really gives me trouble, I'll ask you for help, okay?

Boy: Okay.

He actually answered readily.

Boy: I don't have money to repay you. But I can solve the trouble.

You: Money?

The waiter happened to bring the noodles at this moment, and the boy's face was hidden behind the rising steam, his expression obscured.

Boy: The money for the noodles.

You: I was the one who invited you to eat. You don't have to pay me back.

Boy: I don't take things from others for no reason.

Boy: So think about what you need me to do. As long as it's within my ability, I can do it.

The boy didn't pick up his chopsticks. His hands rested neatly on his lap, waiting for my answer. It seemed like he wouldn't eat if I didn't agree.

This person is even more stubborn than I thought.

You: Okay. Then what can you do?

Boy: For example, if someone bullies you, I can teach them a lesson.

You: No, no, no, it's not that serious.

You: Can it not be an action? How about you answer three questions for me.

This seemed to be beyond his principles. The boy furrowed his brows and thought for a while before nodding.

You: If it's difficult for you, I won't ask.

Boy: I didn't say it was difficult. Ask away.

You: First question, aren't you a soul? How can I see you?

You: And how come you look fifteen or sixteen? Is it because you left your body at that age?

Boy: I am a soul, but I have the blood of a god, so I can manifest a physical form.

You: The blood of a god?!

Boy: Yes, and the appearance of the physical form can be changed at will.

In addition to being surprised, I also sorted out some clues. No wonder I saw him looking exactly like Osborn before, but now he has the appearance of a teenager.

As for the blood of a god... Osborn never mentioned it to me, and I only heard the legend of gods from Sariel not long ago. I couldn't believe that there were actually "gods" in the world.

But the recent events made me feel a sense of helplessness that I had to believe.

You: You said you have the blood of a god, so are you very powerful? Besides changing your appearance, do you have any other abilities?

Boy: Is this the second question?

I thought about it and felt it was a bit of a waste, so I decided not to ask.

You: Second question, why did you do that last time? Making me choose between Osborn and those five people.

You: Actually, you didn't want me to make a choice, right? You didn't want to hurt those five people, did you?

Boy: How did you know?

You: Hmm... intuition, I guess.

Or maybe it's trust. Because he's half of Osborn's soul, I believe he wouldn't do anything to hurt innocent people. The boy looked at me, his expression seeming a little moved.

Boy: I just wanted to die with him. That way I could atone for those five people.

Boy: They died because of us. There's no other way but to give our lives back to them.

I clearly saw two flames burning calmly in his eyes.

So that's why he was so persistent and crazy.

It wasn't to take revenge on his other self. He just wanted to atone for his sins, even if it meant sacrificing his life and the freedom he had finally regained.

A pang of sorrow welled up in my chest for no reason, and I once again remembered Osborn's words from that day. He told me not to choose him, that saving those five people was helping him fulfill his wish.

I never understood why he didn't resist at all. With his power, he shouldn't have been controlled, so I always thought the so-called wish was to redeem himself.

But at this moment, I suddenly thought that maybe at that time, Osborn understood the boy's intention. After so many years, he had forgiven himself, but the fifteen-year-old him was still stuck in the past.

He wanted to save not the present himself, but the helpless Osborn who was abandoned back then.

Boy: You have one more question left.

I came back to my senses and saw the boy's frank eyes.

You: Third question--

I had already decided to ask him what he did to Osborn that day. However, looking at him, I suddenly couldn't ask.

All the questions essentially had nothing to do with him. I was just concerned about Osborn.

Boy: Ask away. It doesn't matter if it's related to him.

The more he said that, the more he looked at me with those frank eyes, the more I couldn't ask.

You: You--how have you been spending your time lately?

I ultimately couldn't bear the condemnation of my conscience.

The boy was a little stunned, not expecting my third question to be about himself.

Boy: I have a place to go.

You: Is it the bridge we saw earlier?

Boy: No.

You: Then where is it?

He looked at me, and I knew his guard was up again, so I raised my hand and swore.

You: I won't tell anyone.

Boy: A warehouse I used to go to often when I was little.

Could it be the place where we first met?!

You: The warehouse on Mingzhou Road?!

The boy suddenly looked up.

Boy: How do you know? Did that person tell you something?!

This was the first time I heard him speak so loudly, attracting the attention of several people around us.

You: No.

Boy: That's right, he wouldn't remember these things.

You: He remembers. I remember too.

You: Because the person locked in the warehouse that year was me.

Boy: Impossible.

He interrupted me flatly. I guessed he wouldn't believe me.

You: I was in fifth grade at the time. I had a conflict with a classmate and took a random bus alone, ending up in a place I didn't know.

You: There was a big warehouse there, surrounded by weeds. I walked in, and not long after, I heard fighting outside.

You: Those people said, "Just throw him here, it doesn't matter if he dies." It was something like that, and then I saw a boy.

You: It was the middle of winter, and he was wearing short sleeves, his arm bleeding. I was so scared that I hid and didn't make a sound.

As I gave more and more detailed details, his expression started to change.

You: Later, I saw him lying on the ground, his face pale. I thought he was dying, so I went over and gave him a handkerchief.

You: He was always cool, even as a kid. He didn't want my handkerchief and said he wouldn't die.

You: I couldn't bear to watch, so I used the handkerchief to bandage his wound. He even scared me, saying there would be big wolf dogs coming.

You: We talked a lot that day. He said he was a monster. He didn't know that my classmates also called me a monster at that time.

You: We were both different from the so-called normal people in this world.

You: It was getting darker and darker, and I was anxious to go home, but the warehouse was locked. In the end, he melted the glass with fire.

You: After we got out, he called out to me and asked me--

Boy: Will you come back again?

The boy said almost immediately, his eyes brighter than ever before.

You: I said yes. But I didn't go back.

You: I'm sorry.

He shook his head vigorously, almost at the same time as my "I'm sorry," and then looked at me silently for a while, lowering his eyes and briefly smiling.

It was the first time I had seen him smile.

I found that whenever he smiled, the impatient, cool demeanor would disappear from his face, and he would become a fifteen-year-old boy again.

You: Why didn't you ask me why I didn't go back?

Boy: Do you want me to ask you that?

You: Otherwise? Don't you want to know why?

Boy: I do.

The boy nodded firmly, then shook his head again, and spoke seriously.

Boy: But it doesn't matter.

You: Huh?

Boy: And, it's good that you didn't go back.

You: Why?

Boy: I fought there later. If you were there, it would be dangerous.

I was caught off guard by the sincerity in his eyes and lowered my head, realizing my heart was beating a little fast.

Boy: Did I say something wrong?

You: No... The noodles are getting cold, let's eat.

Perhaps because we were more familiar with each other, he no longer followed the three-question rule. He would answer any question I asked seriously.

I learned that he hadn't seen Osborn since that day, and that he had been running errands for others to earn money, sleeping in the warehouse at night and staying under the bridge during the day.

He seemed to have taken on a lot of work, as phone calls kept coming in for him while we were eating.

I tentatively asked him if these things were legal. He looked away and didn't answer.

Thinking of the crazy him from that day, I felt a vague unease.

I wanted to tell him not to do those things, that in the end, he would only hurt himself. But I had no right to say so. To him, I was just a stranger he had met once.

-

As we were leaving the noodle shop, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the troublemaking child.

The owner apologized for the incident and gave us two coupons, which I handed to him. But he didn't take them. Instead, he asked the owner for the two receipts from our order.

He carefully folded them and put them in his pocket, along with the band-aid, with a cherished gesture.

Clink-- As he withdrew his hand, he accidentally knocked something out, which rolled to my feet. Looking down, I saw a small, square, gray object with dark red stains on it.

However, before I could see it clearly, he quickly picked it up and put it back in his pocket, looking a little nervous.

I didn't ask further, as it was his secret after all.

But I couldn't ignore the large dried stains on his clothes and pockets, and once again felt sympathy.

You: Wait for me.

I ran back to the shop and picked out some clothes and pants according to his size, then quickly returned, afraid he would disappear again if I wasn't careful.

You: These are for you.

Boy: I don't have money to give you.

He repeated the same sentence, stubbornly refusing to accept them, but this time the regret on his face was clear.

You: Then you owe me. You don't need to write an IOU. If I need you to do something, I'll come to the bridge to find you.

While he was stunned, I stuffed the paper bag into his arms and took his phone to enter my number.

It was a flip phone model from more than ten years ago, probably only able to send text messages and make calls now. The blue screen flickered unsteadily, and the case was dirty. I don't know where he got it from.

You: I won't break my promise this time.

The boy stared at me in a daze for a long time before nodding heavily.

I said goodbye to him at the intersection, but just as I crossed the crosswalk, I suddenly heard someone calling me from behind.

I turned around, and the green light turned on, trucks rumbling past us, drowning out all the surrounding sounds.

This green light was exceptionally long. After what seemed like forever, all the vehicles had passed, and the boy's face appeared before me.

You: Is there anything else?

Boy: These are too expensive.

Boy: So I'll protect you instead.

You: ....What?

I was momentarily stunned. The streetlights lit up one by one, and the boy's expression was exceptionally serious.

Boy: I don't have anything else to offer, only this.

Boy: But I'm not weaker than that person at all. What he can do, I can do too.

Boy: Actually, that day was my-- forget it.

Boy: Stay away from him.

After saying that, before I could react, he hurriedly ran away.

What does he mean by staying away from him? Is he referring to Osborn? What was "that day"? I wanted to grab the corner of his clothes and ask again, but my hand grasped at empty air.

You: Hey, can you please not do those dangerous things?

I shouted loudly at his back, but this time he didn't stop and disappeared into the rolling crowd in the distance.

-

In a place people could no longer see, the boy stopped and gasped for air.

The warm wind blew his hair, revealing a pair of dull eyes. He raised his hand, but before his fingers touched the bridge of his nose, the red marks disappeared.

His palms were sweaty from the prolonged tension. He wiped them hard on his clothes, took out his phone, and unlocked the screen. There was only one contact in his address book.

He had only wanted to use her to get his body back.

He stared at the only name for a long time, until the phone started to vibrate.

It was the construction site man who had paid for the hemp rope and begged him to kill his boss a while ago. Hadn't they already settled their debts? The boy frowned.

Construction Site Man: Young man, didn't you say last time that someone who looked a lot like you was looking for you?

Construction Site Man: I just saw them, a group of them, on Heng'an Street.

That was where he had just eaten! The boy clenched his fists.

Boy: I got it.

His tone was vicious, the impulse made him want to rush over and take back the body that was supposed to be his. However, he did not forget the humiliation last time.

Boy: There is a noodle shop on Heng'an Street, go find a child for me and bring him here.

He was about to turn around when he suddenly remembered something, took out the gray human bone from his pocket, sneered, and threw it into the trash can on the side of the road.

Lowering his face, his bangs covered his eyes again, he hugged the paper bag in his arms and ran in the opposite direction.

.

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Chapter 16-09

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[pbandjesse]

Another day I am completely exhausted. My legs are aching so bad. But I am alright. Soon I will sleep and tomorrow I will feel better.

I had a pretty good day. It just started really stressful.

I slept okay but when James alarms went off I wasn't able to fall back asleep. So I was just sort of laying there and dozing for an hour.

When I got up for real I felt okay. But I was just a little miserable. The morning was hard on me.

James sent me off and I was trying to be in a good mood but when I got to camp and realized half of my breakfast wasn't in my bag I was just so sad.

And I had so much to do. Sarah had put all the boxes at each site but nothing actually got set up. Which is fine. But I was having a ton of trouble remembering stuff so I had to make multiple full camp drives on the gator. I am really glad I took the gator though because doing this just walking probably would have killed me.

I was really stressed out and it got really warm and I knew it was going to get warm but it still surprises me that it was so warm so early. And I was feeling very stressed and stupid for all the things I was forgetting.

At 9 I was finally over at the lodge getting my laptop set up and I heard a parent pull up. We had a ton of chaperones today. And they were all really nice. But there was a whole lot of them.

The first half hour I was mostly just talking to the parent station volunteers. And eventually I walked them to their sites. I was excited about this group and they seemed like they were going to do a really good job. I was really stressed still and was not doing the best at walking them through the programs because I thought they had a handle on it since they weren't asking questions. This would bite me later when one of the teachers told me that twl of the stations don't think they have enough stuff to do and 35 minutes is to long for the programs. But 25 and 30 minutes people complain is to short. I cannot win or make everyone happy. Ugh.

But everyone was great. The school would be about 15 minutes late. But I am very good at my job and was able to get everyone in, and run through my intro, and put in their groups before 1030. I'm amazing.

Like I said there were a lot of chaperones. But it didn't feel like a big deal. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.

Sarah hung out with me all day to try and get a feel for leading this program. Because every day me and James are in Uganda they are having this field trip. Welp. But Sarah is also very good at her job so I am not worried.

We would spend the half hours of each program doing laps. Getting the invoice settled. There was some confusion because they had made this feildtrip before we changed the price so we were all confused about how much they were paying but we figured it out. Only slightly embarrassing.

I would bring my knitting over to the pioneer tables and Sarah worked on a bracelet while I knit. We would periodically make loops to check on the groups. But everyone seemed good. And I was very happy.

The weather was beautiful. And a lot of my stress from the morning had gone away. I still was a little upset inside. But at least I was outside.

We had our lunch break in the office. I spilled Indian food on myself multiple times and just gave up on eating that. Had half an apple instead. And soon it was time to check on with the groups again.

The last two programs went smoothly. I got really nauseous for a bit and had to sit in the shade. But Sarah was awesome and would go help get bean bags off the roof when I could not. And everyone seemed to be having a really good day.

The group would come back together and I did a little debrief and some questions. And it was just really weekend to see the kids all lit up and happy about what they learned. And that felt really nice.

They said thank you and got on their buses to go back to school. And I would start packing up things, while Sarah started cleaning. I would clean the bathrooms and collect trash. I threw the entire tied bags over the railing because I thought it would be fun and I am very lucky it didn't explode but it also was very fun.

Once everything was clean I would walk around to all the stations to make sure they were put away well. And I spent a little time just making sure everything was in a good spot.

I would get a little overtired form walking in the sun. I had two boxes to bring to the office but I couldn't carry them both so instead I went to the office for the gator and drove them back to where they needed to be.

I was so tired at this point. I would sit and talk with Heather for a bit about the journal I made and some edits for accessibility. And we talked about shampoo and how for some reason the one I use is $17 now?? And the other has been discontinued. So my plan was to go find some at Marshalls.

I left and went to Hunt Valley. And I was not having the best luck.

The shampoos were really expensive there too! The one I wanted was $40!! What!! I ended up finding a clearance one that was $8 that is a brand I am already comfortable with. But man. Why is everything expensive.

I wild get myself a new mug that I absolutely did not need but I really like. And I got a new cord for the car and it actually works again! Amazing. I can use the car screen.

I let James know I was on my way home. I had a pretty intense nose bleed and was pretty upset and a little unsettled. And that I would like dinner asap so they would start making me a salad before I got home.

There was a lot of traffic on the way back. But I got home at 515. Very sore and very tired.

James and me had dinner on the couch. The back door was open and the sun was shining. And I felt miserable. My whole person hurt. I thought coming upstairs and showering would help. It did a little bit I was still unhappy.

James would help me fold clothes to put in storage. And I tried on a few things and it was good. But I was still really tired.

I would paint my toes. And Sweetp came and laid with me. And now James is here too. They made us more cake. And it was good. I liked the cake better last time when it didn't have vanilla in it. But that's okay. Still good and very appreciated. Love my husband.

I am very very ready to sleep now. I hope you all have a great night. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[skuldsbane]

I may be in trouble

I’ve not been saying much, because that’s generally not my way (if I can help it). There’s been mention on my discord, and the people there have been incredibly supportive. But I’ve not said much here.

Today I can’t even knit socks. Not because I’ve forgotten how, or because it takes too much brain power, or my hands aren’t working or anything like that. It’s because there’s something very wrong. We don’t know what it is yet.

Pinning it down is going to be difficult at best. It’s completely inconsistent, so being able to get a diagnosis will be... something less than straightforward. We think it started when I was put on one medication and taken off of another a week later. (The doctor who removed the medication never bothered to ask why I was on it, whether the numbers in the blood test should be slightly high for a reason, etc. He just decided I didn’t need it anymore. He’s also not going to be getting any more referrals from my primary care doctor’s office anymore.) The effects of the added medication were not exactly welcome, but expected, and I had started evening out. Then the other was removed and the world went sideways.

They put me back on the one that was removed, and took away the new one. But that’s been two weeks ago and there has been no significant improvement. There are appointments with various specialists scheduled for the next month and a half to see if anybody can figure out what happened. I’ve been put on medical leave from work until the end of August - and thank goodness for short term disability insurance, but they’re not paying 100% pay rate for that full time.

I’m sleeping between 12-14 hours a day, and am still exhausted. A train of thought will board at the station, and I can hold a brief conversation, but somewhere something just breaks down. Out of nowhere the thought just disappears - sometimes mid-sentence. Or partway through a word. It’s just gone. I’m unable to do much of anything today because of dizziness and mental fatigue. I can’t even go lay down and take a nap because I was able to strip the bed to wash the sheets (for the first time in over a month) this morning, but physically can’t put other sheets on again.

Why am I telling you this?

Well... Because I miss streaming. I miss sharing crafts, and playing video games, and just hanging out. Even if only one or two people would show up to watch, it helped me feel less alone. That’s a difficult thing to face when necessity means you can’t see many people.

Because I had planned to try to stream today, even if it was for an hour. Maybe two. Since it’s nearly impossible to keep focus and keep up enough energy to do anything for much longer than that. Even without the energy output of streaming, the most I’ve been able to stay awake at a stretch for weeks is about a 6 hour stretch.

Because I want everybody to know I’m still here, and still fighting, even though it’s hard.

So. There we are. I’m doing what little I can. Part of that is trying to figure out pricing for quilted coaster sets, since that’s something I can work on (almost brainless) for a couple of hours at a time on most days. And with the summer months here, and the US turning into a red, white, and blue smear... there are some sets in that color scheme which will be going up for sale as soon as that pricing gets figured out. (Then Halloween ones, and Christmas ones, then probably more Halloween/goth ones because that’s my jam.) Part of that is trying to use what little brain power exists to deal with insurance companies. And part of that is watching terrible youtube videos and staring off into space. It’s a rough thing to do, but somebody’s got to.

[mariacallous]

Dagestan has long been a reliable source of personnel for the Russian army. In peacetime, while eligible conscripts in other regions would seek ways to evade mandatory service, young men in Dagestan would pay bribes to enlist. That’s not necessarily because they were eager to experience military life; a stint in the army is effectively a prerequisite to getting a public-sector job, and government service is the best-paying and most stable career track available in the region. But Dagestanis have shown far less enthusiasm for the military since Russia invaded Ukraine last year — and it’s no wonder, given that they were drafted in disproportionately high numbers, and that Dagestan lost more residents in the first few months of the full-scale war than almost any other region of Russia. After Putin announced mobilization in September, Dagestan had some of the country’s largest protests, prompting a brutal police crackdown. With the war in Ukraine approaching its one-year mark, a journalist from the independent Russian outlet iStories went to Dagestan to see how residents feel about military service, mobilization, and the war in Ukraine. In English, Meduza is publishing an abridged version of the dispatch.

‘We’re used to respecting the authorities’

We’re in an addressless one-story building in a small mountain village in southern Dagestan. An older woman named Patimat is sitting in an armchair behind a wooden table and dicing pieces of cow liver. She and her daughter-in-law started buying the cheap protein source from their neighbors back in the fall. Chickens and ducks roam around their property, but the family doesn’t eat those anymore: “Those are the meat pies we send to my oldest son, who’s at the front.” Forty-year-old Ramadan was drafted in September.

“To be honest, I still can’t tell if he wanted to be called up or not,” Patimat says. “But the draft order came. A lot of people here got them, by the way. Not everybody went.”

“What other option did they have?” asks the iStories correspondent.

“Some people paid the doctor, while others paid [the enlistment officers] directly. They told everyone the price right from the start,” answers Sabiyat, the wife of Patimat’s youngest son. “That’s not something we respect… Nobody respects cowardice. Ramadan said that if he hides, and if others hide, who will be left to protect the motherland? Doesn’t somebody have to go? He’s always been a real man.”

Sabiyat’s own husband is exempt from the draft due to health problems.

“Are the rest of the men really looked down upon now?”

“At first, yeah, that was the case. But then ‘the rest of the men’ became our whole village, except for our Ramadan,” Sabiyat says. “And things died down.”

“They died down,” Patimat repeats, rubbing her bloodshot eyes.

When Vladimir Putin announced mobilization, Ramadan was off working in Moscow. When he learned that a draft order had come for him, he immediately went to Derbent to “figure everything out.”

“I asked him to wait ten days so he could pack, spend some time at home before going to war, and give us time to talk,” his mother says. “He said, ’No, I’m going right now.’ Well, inshallah [God willing]. It’s up to him. I worry about him, of course, but I supported my son. What makes a man beautiful, if not his courage?”

In the five months since Ramadan was drafted, according to his family, he hasn’t received a single payment. Patimat paid for his body armor, helmet, and warm clothes herself; she transferred 50,000 rubles (about $670) to the bank account of “one of the commanders.”

None of Ramadan’s relatives know where he is. Their phone calls with him are so short that they haven’t even been able to ask whether he’s received the homemade food they’ve sent him.

Suddenly, the iStories correspondent hears children laughing: four-year-old Zakhra and two-year-old Ibad, Ramadan’s niece and nephew, burst into the room with a toy dump truck. Sabiyat lifts Ibad up into her arms to feed him some liver.

“Even our kids know about war,” she says. “On May 9, at the kindergarten, we always used to have to bring camouflage uniforms.”

“What about now?” asks the iStories correspondent. “Are [the kindergarteners] still told about the war, like elementary school students are?”

“I don’t know. We’re used to respecting the authorities,” Sabiyat says, lowering her voice. “And the kindergarten teacher is part of the authorities. I can’t ask her about anything. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

‘You’re the ones going off to die for me’

From a cursory glance at the streets of any Dagestani city, it would be easy to think that Russia hasn’t been waging war against Ukraine for the last year. Most of the food products that have disappeared due to Western sanctions have been replaced by their Turkish or Iranian equivalents, and the stores that have blue and yellow IKEA signs hanging out front were full of locally made lamps and Turkish carpets even before the war.

It’s not rare to see “Z” symbols around the republic, but they’re definitely not as common as in Moscow. The only exception is southern Dagestan, where pro-war stickers adorn storefronts, cars, and restaurant windows.

Zarifa, a civil servant in the southern city of Derbent, proudly tells iStories about how she recently sent 205,000 rubles ($3,346) to volunteer fighters in Grozny.

“They started to thank me. I said, ‘What are you thanking me for? You’re the ones going off to die for me, for my security!’” she says.

In the fall, Zarifa and some of her friends started sending meat and hingels to the front. One of her colleagues involved in the initiative, Farida, starts to cry as she talks about it; her brother has been at the front for months now.

“Sometimes, we don’t hear anything from him for months at a time. Evidently, they don’t give them access to their phones,” she says, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Are you crying? Doesn’t the government give him the equipment he needs? Is he hungry? Is he sleeping in the cold?” Zarifa asks sharply.

“I’m not complaining, of course. He’s doing fine. As fine as he can be,” Farida responds.

Zarifa’s husband doesn’t have to worry about getting called up; he’s a high-ranking security official. Their eight-year-old daughter studies in a prestigious private school, where, in addition to gymnastics, dance, and English-language classes, she attends Russia’s government-imposed “patriotism” class: “Conversations About What’s Important.”

“Mom, do you know why the Ukrainians are angry at us?” her daughter asks when she gets home from school. “Everybody left the country to come to Russia, and the government got offended — so now they’re waging war against us. And I hate their president, Zelensky, too!”

“That’s my smart girl,” Zarifa says, giving her a kiss. “I try not to discuss politics at home, but her school shapes [her views] too. The other kids probably had people [from their families] go to the front, as did their teacher. And now Jamila hates him [Zelensky] — for making our people, from Derbent, have to go there.”

‘The Quran prohibits it’

Dagestan’s capital, Makhachkala, was the site of one of Russia’s largest anti-mobilization protests, which lasted for days. Law enforcement responded brutally to the demonstrations, using stun guns, batons, and pepper spray to disperse protesters, arresting at least 200 people. In the days that followed, the local Investigative Committee opened at least 30 criminal cases.

On September 25, more than 100 people blocked the Khasavyurt-Makhachkala Federal Highway near the northern Dagestani village of Endirey. Police ultimately fired guns in the air to make them leave.

One of those protesters was a 38-year-old Endirey resident named Gulyusa. She told iStories that she didn’t want her husband or her sons to die in a war that she doesn’t support.

“My heart began to ache back in February. I thought that, in Dagestan, everybody would condemn the war; after all, there’s not a single family who didn’t lose someone in the Chechen [Wars],” she says. “And that’s basically what happened. Nobody supported it, and everybody hoped it wouldn’t affect them. My youngest son is still 14. It’s not clear how long this will last for, but I hope it’s less than four years.”

After Gulyusa’s oldest son, 19-year-old Musa, received a draft order, the family decided it was no longer safe for him at home, so they went to Makhachkala. Now, unable to enroll in a university or get an official job, he works under the table assembling furniture. When he comes home to join his family for a meal, he travels incognito, always using other people’s cars.

And though her youngest son, seventh-grader Ilyas, is too young for the draft, the war has affected him, too.

“Today, there was almost nothing for me to do [at school]: we had free time instead of P.E., and I don’t go to ‘Conversations About What’s Important,’” he told iStories.

“Just you?”

“No — almost nobody goes,” he says, laughing. “At first, the school tried to fix it by going through our parents, but the adults themselves say that these lessons aren’t really school; they’re not subjects like math or English, so we shouldn’t be required to be there. I went to two [of these] lessons in September. One was about cosmonauts and the other was about Russian songs. Usually, I go for a walk during that time, or eat breakfast at home, or study biology. I want to become a doctor.”

“Maybe by then, they won’t be drafting doctors anymore,” Gulyusa says with a sigh.

Gulyusa’s family goes to an elderly mullah whose family continued practicing Islam throughout the entire Soviet period. Nowhere, he’s told her, does the Quran say that Muslims are required to protect non-Muslims, so — from a religious perspective — nobody from Endirey is obligated to go to Ukraine. On the other hand, the mullah says, the Quran does prohibit murdering innocent people, placing it on par with killing all of humanity. “If a man fears [obeys] Allah, he won’t go [to fight in Ukraine],” the mullah has said.

“The mullah isn’t afraid of the consequences? It sounds to me like he’s turned a lot of people [against the war],” asks the iStories correspondent.

“Everyone in Endirey will stand up for him,” she says. “What can they do to a respected man like him?”

‘Allah should help’

Islam, an Avar who lives in the Dagestani city of Khasavyurt, and his wife, a Chechen woman named Aishat, wanted to join the September protests, but they simply couldn’t make it: they’re raising seven kids, all under the age of ten.

One of Islam’s younger brothers was drafted, and he didn’t try to resist. According to Islam, he’s a “straightforward, honest person, so when the order came, he went [to the enlistment office].” The family hasn’t heard from him since October.

“It was a sin for me not to save him; I’m the oldest,” Islam laments, rocking his newborn son. “I probably should have hidden him. Our imam said afterwards that it’s more shameful to kill a non-Muslim on his own land than to hide in your home.”

The family can’t afford to emigrate; one of their daughters was born with cerebral palsy, and they’ve spent all of their savings on her treatment.

Ibragim, another one of Islam’s brothers, runs a shoe shop in town together with a friend. A draft order came for him in September, but he tore it up. He says he’s not afraid to stay in Khasavyurt.

“Some people were saying that the imam would keep the recruiters away from all of his students, though I don’t know if that’s possible without paying,” Ibragim says. “On the other hand, Allah should help, I think. If you refuse to go kill people because of your faith, then you’re on a certain path that the state has no power over.”

* * *

After the trip to Khasavyurt, amid talk of a new round of mobilization, the iStories correspondent received a call from Ibragim, who was now in Uzbekistan. He said he decided to help Allah protect him, and that he now plans to wait things out while abroad. He’s promised his brother and his business partner that he’ll return as soon as possible.

“I mean, it can’t last another year,” he said. “Can it?”

[liecoris]

  At first, the invite to the Devildom was accepted due to Mukuro just simply wanting to know what exactly this Devildom was, but as soon as she found out not only about the fact magic does exist but it was something teachable。 So with her newfound curriculum to learn, Mukuro poured all her efforts into learning as much as she could within this particular field。

  After all, since it’d probably be somewhat suspect of her to travel back to the human world with poisons only able to be crafted in the Devildom, she’d have to rely on whatever she could learn in terms of incantations and the like。 

  Shapeshifting had always been an interest of hers, ever since she was young, so when the opportunity came to learn that, Mukuro jumped at the chance。 Because not even if it was a short duration, being able to change on a whim would be extremely beneficial to her and her line of work。

  So here Mukuro sat in her car, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, just like how her mother wears。 Had her mother not been so adamant about dying her own hair black to match with the rest of society along with wearing colored contacts to hide gold eyes, Mukuro could absolutely easily disguise herself as her mother, Hitomi。 Mukuro had timed herself on how long this disguising spell worked, she’d have just enough time to cast said spell, get out of her car and make her way up to her father’s office and take him out, wait for the current spell to cease and change into her father to go to her mother’s office。 

  This would take up quite a bit of energy of course, but it was the price Mukuro was willing to pay。 Taking a final deep breath to calm her nerves, not because of what she was going to do, but the fact that she was going to look just like her mother。 That was what the cause of the anxiety bubbling inside her was from。 Saying the incantation just like she had practiced, Mukuro felt the weird and yet familiar sparks through her body as her appearance began to change。 

  When the feeling subsided, Mukuro took a quick glance at the mirror to confirm that she had indeed taken on the appearance of her mother。 Not wanting to risk a full blown anxiety attack, Mukuro’s eyes darted right away from the rear view mirror of her car and briskly exited her car, grabbing her purse along with the manila envelope she brought with her to not only hide the small ceramic bamboo needle gun, but to give the illusion that she had files to give to the owner of the company, Mukuro’s father, Keiichi。 

  She walked with confidence as she approached the front doors of her parent’s workplace and the skittish glances she was receiving as she walked through the doors and to the elevators confirmed to Mukuro that the disguise was passing。 Even when she got to the elevator, those who were already waiting on the elevator didn’t get on when the doors opened and 『Hitomi』 walked in。 Hitting the button for the top floor, there was no delay in her hitting the ‘close door’ button as well。 

  Mukuro’s heart was beating fast and hard, not because she was nervous if she was going to actually pull this off, but because she finally was。 She had spent years dreaming of this moment and to have it finally happen。 Mukuro had to stop herself from grinning wildly in the elevator as it rode up to her destination。 

  Arriving at the top floor, just as briskly as she stepped onto the elevator, Mukuro exited and beelined towards Keiichi’s office。 Being disguised as Hitomi meant that Mukuro could bypass having to have an ‘appointment’ to get into Keiichi’s office。 

  Hearing his office door open, Keiichi was about to go off on both whoever dared enter his office without prior approval and his secretary for allowing it, but as soon as he spotted his 『wife』 his features calmed again and he went back to work。

「Good morning dear, have you got the files I requested？」 He asked while not looking up from the computer he was typing at。 

「Of course, here they are。」 Even with the disguise changing her physical appearance it didn’t do anything to change her voice, so Mukuro had to make her voice just a bit deeper to imitate her mothers。

  As 『Hitomi』 approached Keiichi’s desk, she opened the manila envelope and silently withdrew the small firearm。 Placing the now empty envelope onto his desk, Keiichi was about to thank his 『wife』 when a soft ‘fwoosh’ filled the air along with a couple more sounds in quick succession。 Slumping forward in his desk, Keiichi’s corpse sat there as Mukuro checked his pulse and just to make sure he was really dead, pumped a full round of the bamboo needles into him, aiming for any and all vital spots that the needle ammunition could hit。

  Quickly reloading her gun and concealed the gun in the waistband of her pants, Mukuro heaved another sigh as she waited for the current spell to finish before applying it again, but this time with the guise of her father。 As she waited, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her purse, Mukuro lit one up and smoked to help calm her nerves。 

  She had killed plenty of times before and none were as exhilarating as this。 

  By the time she had finished her cigarette, the spell had dissipated。 Casting the spell again once she tucked the dashed-out cigarette into her little portable ashtray, Mukuro felt exhaustion beginning to set in。 With her mind a little hazy as if she were on the cusp of sleep, Mukuro quickly shook herself out of the daze, lightly patting herself against her face to keep herself awake。

  On an even more limited time limit, Mukuro made her way to where Hitomi’s office would be now in the disguise of Keiichi。 When 『Keiichi』 left his office shortly after the arrival of his 『wife』 the secretary did hold an inquisitive look for a moment but knew it was best not to question what he or his wife were up to, so she quickly went back to her work。 

  Wasting no time, 『Keiichi』 entered the office of his wife, earning quite the surprised look from her when he entered。 Being on the tail-end of a call, Hitomi quickly finished up the conference call before addressing her husband。 Before she could even get the question of what he needed out, 『Keiichi』 had pulled out the gun and began firing, pumping another full round into Hitomi, making sure she was dead by the end of it all。 

  Whereas Mukuro would normally just stick around to really relish in her accomplishment, especially for this one, she knew that she was still very much on a short time limit。 So as she hid the gun on her person again, Mukuro exited the office as 『Keiichi』 and would be able to make it to the elevator and on the uninterrupted ride down。 The disguise only dissipated once she entered the parking garage。 

  Taking her hair out of the bun, Mukuro leaned against the wall for support as she caught her breath。 Having quite the large chunk of energy taken from her to do two disguise spells in a row。 Pushing herself, Mukuro very slowly made her way back to her car。 Feeling like she was wading through thick mud as she moved, but once she got into her car, she could at least be granted the reprieve of a short rest。

  A small laugh filtered out of her mouth once she sat down in the driver’s seat of her car。 Having to then cover her mouth as a louder laugh began to bubble out of her, a large grin hidden behind the back of her hand。 

  This was two down。。。 only one more person left to go and Mukuro could feel like she can truly live。

[gwydionmisha]

My OTC Medicare Advantage Benefit Saga:

I'm writing thins in case any of you have Medicare.  (Do you have medicare advantage?  if not!  Get some when it reopens next fall, because medicare part C is amazeballs).

They switched up providers and the entire system of Over the counter Meds benefits at the new year.  They increased the benefit and made it monthly instead of quarterly and added a $50.00 food voucher.  They were late sending cards out to let people actually use the benefit and out right lied to social services, medicare advantage social workers etc., that they mailed the catalog/directions/etc. packet in December when as of 1/10/22 they hadn't mailed them at all.  This is a serious asshole maneuver as if you do not spend your benefit by month's end it doesn't roll over. My card only got here end of last week and as of last Tuesday very few had them yet.  I suspect preventing most people using their benefit this month is an illicit cost saving measure.

Anyway, the old system, you had a catalog full of OTC stuff you could order four times a year.  You couldn't  go over the limit, and any change left after the order was lost.  It was all at cost so big bang for your buck, but they lacked all kinds of things one would think should be in there like surgical masks or better, but they had no masks at all at the start of the pandemic, and a year in they only added the crappy white cloth ones that never fit properly.  You'd think masks would have been standard for elderly and disabled people even before the pandemic, but...  Yeah.  Still it was way better than not having it.  You could get things like antacid and first aid supplies and toothbrushes, but it was missing stuff that logic dictates made sense.

The new system is a give away to pharmacies.  You get more to spend, but it's at price gougey pharmacy prices instead of at cost.  You can only use certain chain pharmacies and grocery stores.  The two cheapest grocery stores in my small city/town are not on the list.  The second and third most expensive are.  

So my social worker and the person in charge of several things including OTC benefit in my state were on a conference call with me Tuesday as we tried to work out WTF.  Why me?  I'm a squeaky wheel who kept asking how I was meant to use the benefit and so is my nurse/social worker.  The lady from OTC was super nice and helpful, it's just the office in Washington and third party administrator were not communicating about stuff at all in a useful way.  So they asked if I'd guinea pig for them using only information that came with the card which was sketchy at best.  I agreed to go to the Rite AID, ask them if they had any info sheets sent to them, and try to buy an experimental month's worth of OTC.  (I'm doing the grocery run next week, I think.  I was exhausted from errands and treatment.)

NOTE: If you get your card make sure to activate it and definitely save the mailer it's attached to as it lists participating chain stores and the monthly benefit amounts.  Do remember to account for state tax if any and have extra money with you in case you go over.

No one at Rite AID on that shift knew what an OTC benefit was and they took my benefit card for something else when I went to pay.  They had definitely not been informed this roll out was happening nor had they been sent a what people could buy with it list any more than we had.

My purchase set was deliberately experimental.  I mostly selected things I knew were on the old list, but tried brands they didn't carry for a bunch of things. Oral B toothbrush heads instead of Phillips.  I got tums, but also the store brand equivalent, that kind of thing.  I also grabbed a big box of the previously forbidden masks.  They fit under the vague guidelines on the card mailer, but I knew they were off list last year.

I explained to the cashier about not knowing what was covered and that we may have to put things back.  Everything went through.  Even the masks.  I was so caught up in the experiment, I forgot to factor in state tax, so I went a little over, which is fine, as that too is useful data.  If the only thing over is tax, you can't remove items from the tally, which is good to know.  I have reported back, so the medicare advantage people for my state can use the results to help all the others.  

Next month I will branch out a little more and see if I can push it a little further from the old catalog of we don't get our items list in time.

All in all, as annoying as it is that pharmacies are profiting off this instead of people getting full value, being able to buy the toothbrush head brand I need and to purchase things off book like masks is a huge help.  I just wish some things weren't jacked up 3-4 times the price from the old catalog.  With the benefit increase it balances out though. Not having to spend thirty bucks on masks is worth it by itself.  It also means not spending an hour or two planning my purchase so as to lose as little as possible.

The old catalog let us buy soap, but not shampoo.  I am wondering if soap is still allowed under the new guidelines.  I supose it's a question for next month.