#stuck in bed today & it's so frustrating knowing i'm being judged for not being able to do stuff when i could yesterday

[chronicpaingirlie]

something i find really frustrating is the way able-bodied people seem to struggle so much to understand that, when you're disabled, your abilities can fluctuate from day to day.

"but you could do that thing yesterday-" but today i can't. what my body can & can't do isn't a constant, reliable thing. i don't get to pick and choose when i do what. and i PROMISE this is just as frustrating to me as it is to you (if not more).

it also really bothers me that, rather than trying to understand and accept that my abilities change from day to day, the default assumption tends to be laziness. if i could do a task last week but can't do the same this week, it's because my body physically will not allow it, not because i'm being lazy and just don't want to do it.

before i became disabled, i never questioned whether i would be able to shop every week, or whether i could go on a daily walk, or whether i would be able to get out of bed in the morning. since having a disabled body, all i do is question whether my body will be able to handle the most basic tasks.

i plan ahead for things i know need to get done, and i often have to rest for days before things like a trip to the grocery store, or a doctor appointment. it's endlessly frustrating, not being able to know what i'll be able to do on a given day.

i just . really wish that able-bodied people would try to be more understanding and forgiving of disabled people when they're unable to do things. we're not being lazy. we're not doing this on purpose. we're just living our lives with bodies that can't always do what we want, when we want.

[dizzyjelly]

Late Night Shift

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: You have to work the late shift and it is absolutely terrible, you come home to your girlfriend Abby who comforts you and reminds you everything will be ok.

Cw: showering together(non-sexually), crying/breaking down, stress/exhaustion, female reader

You dropped your coat on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs, a heavy sigh falling from your lips. You kicked your shoes off and left them messily by the door. It was well past ten, which was the time you were supposed to get off work. No, now it was, you pulled out your phone, 12:30 am.

You all but threw your work bag at the counter, not giving any care to the items that spilled out. You made your way upstairs and into your bedroom, a small smile made its way on your face as you saw Abby.

She was completely in her element, kegs crossed with a blanket up to her waist. A book in her hands and black, thin reading glasses adorning her face. Her hair framed her face perfectly, she'd let it down out of the usual tight braid.

"Hi baby." She cooed, setting her book down as she smiled at you from where you stood in the doorway.

"Hi." Your voice was quiet and weaker than you'd like it to be, you dropped your head down with a grimace on your face.

Abbys brows creased into an expression of worry. And before you knew it your bottom lip was quivering and tears were building in your eyes. You kept your head down in shame, you hated crying in front of people.

Even if you knew Abby loved you so dearly, and would never judge you. Something about being vulnerable in front of others made you sick to your stomach. But the way Abby would hold you and tell you everything was ok made it feel tolerable.

"Hey, what's going on?" She asked, her tone laced with sympathy.

You just sniffled and held yourself in a hug as tears relentlessly fell from your face. And of course Abby was rushing to your side in no time, wrapping her own arms around you as she brought you over to your shared bed. She laid down and pulled you into her side, you sighed as you moved to be more on top of her.

Your legs intertwined with her own and one of your arms wrapped around her while the other was laid on her chest. Your breathing became irregular as your sobs took over your body.

"I just had a t-terrible day and I has to stay at work l-la-" you groaned loudly in frustration, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you couldn't get your words out.

"I know baby, you had to stay late. It's ok, I know." She shushed you, knowing you were having a tough time saying what you wanted to.

She brought a hand to your head, combing her fingers through your hair. While her other one stayed at your side, rubbing up and down soothingly. She placed a light kiss on your forehead, then one at the top of your head.

You cried harder underneath her touch, finally being able to release all that you'd held back throughout the day. She just laid there silently and held you, her heart aching at how upset you'd been. She seriously wanted to rip whoever got you like this a new one. Finally, she'd ask,

"You wanna talk about it?" In the sweetest voice too.

"Yeah." You answered, nodding.

"Alright, whenever you're ready baby. I'm right here." She reassured you, another way of saying take your time.

After calming down for the most part, you grabbed her hand and interlocked your fingers with her own before explaining all the difficulties of your day.

"So, first of all, Riley wasn't even there today so that was a bummer," Riley was your best work friend, "Then I got stuck with not one, but two fucking party tables. And if my night couldn't get any worse, Gary didn't show up so I had to cover his shift. Thats why I was so late. And I wanted to get home early so we could watch a movie." You sniffled, snuggling against her as you closed your eyes with relaxation at the feeling of her fingers in your hair.

"Baby I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. I just want you to know that you're so strong and one bad day doesn't mean a bad life. Everything's gonna be ok and we can watch something tomorrow night." She brought her hand to your chin, picking your head up so you looked at her.

She gave you a small smile before kissing your left cheek, then your right, the tip of your nose, your forehead, and finally your lips. You smiled into the kiss, laying your head back on her chest after you pulled away.

"I just didn't want you to be mad since I was really late.." You murmured.

"What? Of course I'm not mad. I'm just glad I get to hold you and be with you now." She answered, hugging you tightly with her big strong arms.

Your breathing slowed and you sighed against her. She moved her hands all over your back, fingernails grazing it in the most relaxing way. As much as you wanted to just lay there forever, you wanted to get changed and shower. So you slowly got up, making your way to the dresser.

"Shower?" Abby asked.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"You want me to join you?" She asked, already standing to follow you to the bathroom.

You just nodded again, giggling a bit as Abby walked over to undress you. And she took her time, in the best way possible. Finally she'd stripped you all the way down and you got into the shower, which was almost too hot but not quite there. Just how you liked it.

You brought your hands to smoth your hair back as the water trickled down your back. Abby stepped in to join you shortly after, a smile present on her face at how relaxed you'd gotten. You chuckle a bit as you move past her, grabbing your shampoo bottle and getting ready to open it. Abby stops you, taking the bottle for herself.

"Let me." She says, pouring a quarter size droplet into her hand then rubbing her hands together.

You lean your head back just the slightest and your breath stutters as her hands meet your hair. She takes her time, giving you a wonderful scalp massage as she suds up your hair. Once she finally is done you wish she wasn't because of how good it felt. But you turn around and rinse your hair anyways.

You grab onto Abbys shoulders to turn her around so you can return the favor, but she shakes her head.

"Oh I already showered before you got home." She simply said.

"Wh- then why'd you wanna join me?" You ask with a light scoff.

Abby shrugs, and you roll your eyes at her.

"Quit staring at my boobs and grab the body wash." You tease and she laughs a bit.

She grabbed your loofah and pours a generous amount of body wash onto it. Then she's of course washing your body for you, first your shoulders then your chest and your stomach. And then your legs, and you of course take notice to how she goes just that much slower at your thighs and ass.

You pay it no mind as you turn so your back faces her and rinse off all the soap. Abby watches with a sparkle of adoration in her eyes. You finish up and step out of the shower, she immediately follows you and is wrapping you up in a towel in seconds. You crack a smile as she stands behind you, wrapped in her own towel as she holds your waist and kisses you along your jaw, neck, and collarbone.

Eventually she let's you get dressed, your pj's consist of a pair of black biker shorts and one of Abby’s t-shirts that basically belonged to you now. Abby smiled lazily at the sight of you, so comfortable and in your element.

She opened her arms for you from where she sat on your shared bed. You climbed onto her, smooshing your face in the crook of her neck as you wrapped your arms around her back. She wrapped her own arms around you, removing one of them to shut off the lamp on the bedside table.

She peppered light kisses over your face, before placing one final one at the top of your head. She rubbed at your back, relaxing you and pushing you closer to tranquility.

"Goodnight baby." She whispering.

"G'night." You whispered back.

You'd both fall asleep just minutes after.

[guzsdaily]

The factory must grow

Day 4 - Nov 09, 12.023

I'm addicted to Factorio, all the times I played it, the sense of time was completely lost to me. It is so addictive to see your factory grow over time, see each production line filling belts, see your research tree being completed. And yesterday, when I ended up being awake until 1 a.m. - and just went to bed because I started to search for mods to speed up the game time because I'm still in a "starter base" and ended up being a little frustrated that my resources were ending and my production slowing down and stalling the research tree - I ended up making an analogy which is what I thought could be the theme for today. This can end up felling very "gen z coach like", but whatever.

Playing creative mode

I never played Factorio in survival mode, the intended way to play it. "Why?" Because I didn't want to be through the grind and consume hours of my day in the slow passed gameplay of gathering resources, waiting to craft an item, walk slowly on the map to build a train line, etc. I always thought that just designing the factory itself would be more fun, "why pass all that when I can just install a mod and play with cheats? It's more fun to make a giant factory with perfect resource consumption and production!". Playing this way was cool and all, I always tried to make the most exaggerated production lines, train networks, furnace arrays, decorating and aligning everything, so in the map it always looked like a giant computer with so many parts.

But for some reason, I never stuck to a base, I never played for hours without feeling bored at some point. Most of the time, all the resource productions were in a brute force way, never actually planning and calculating how many items I needed or consumed. I tried installing modpacks which added more and more things, more resources, processing steps, etc., but it never fixed the problem for me. "I liked building in creative mode in Minecraft for years, why here would be different? It's just like when I'm trying to build Redstone contraptions or giant builds, no?". Because of it, I always stopped playing and had months length intervals of never opening the game.

Playing survival mode

Game design and development is something which really interest me, even knowing that now days I probably wouldn't develop any game, the programming for it is so out there compared to web development that I would need to re-watch all the video courses that introduced me to programming in general in the first place. But I still watch video essays, commentaries, devlogs about game dev and design from time to time, and one of the things that you always see around them is "designed progression", or how games show your progress to make you have fun and see how you're improving your skills and powers. This is even one of the reasons that I was convinced to play ULTRAKILL in the first place, because the flow of the game was so addicting and even being difficult, you see easily how you improve your movement, try different things, adapt and improvise in unexpected situations, etc. And knowing by the title of this section and this paragraph, you already know where this is going.

I tried to play Factorio in the intended way, started a new save called "RealFactorio", default settings, survival, with just Quality Of Life mods to add and fix some features which the developers already plans to do in the 2.0 version. And now I addicted to it, and I just played for some hours in the past three to four days, I pretty much end every day wanting to play at least a little, one hour or so, to progress my base. It all a spaguetti base, but from somewhere I heard, if you call it your "starter base", you can't be judged for it being ugly or poor planned. So here is my started base:

I'm addicted to seeing those belts fill up with science packs after creating a clumsy section just to be able to have the next shining new thing in the research tree. Even if it doesn't produce in big scale, even if most of the belts are empty because I didn't calculate enough resources and production time, even when I already died five times killing enemies to be able to expand the base in the future. It is ✨satisfactory✨, wait… that's another game.

"But why?" Well, it is kinda obvious seeing now. Seeing your progression after you actually battled and put energy into something is rewarding, it gives you dopamine, and all that talk you already know, yadda yadda… However, for me what more is interesting is the difference on how a game like Minecraft, which for me, can be fun in both creative or survival, while Factorio can't. And I think it can be explained in the difference of two words' meaning for me: "creative" and "design".

Creative: this would be the process or joy of creating something itself, expressing what you like, artwork in general. Personally, this is where something like Minecraft in creative mode, creating pixelart in Factorio - which I'm wasn't making - drawing a doddle in your notebook, etc. would be.

Design: this would be when you are creating something with a defined purpose or goal, trying to create something with some sort of pattern or thought behind. Where something like Minecraft survival, Factorio, drawing a new character, logo design, etc. would fall on. This also include the process of adapting a work to fit a limit or trying to create something efficiently. Yes, there's creativity in this process, but the overhaul picture is bigger than one work itself.

And my problem was that I was trying to be creative when I should be designing more. Admiring after how all that work and planning paid off when I saw my factory working with the limited resources it had. Because of this that I found joy on playing the game. That's even why I like to play Minecraft survival, because is both of them at the same time, you need to design farms and collect resources if you want to make your building to express yourself and be creative after.

The [obvious and convoluted] analogy

I have to admit that at this point of writing, the point of this entry made some many turns that I don't even want to rewrite any part of it. It already passed some hours since the start and I need to do something productive today yet. And to be honest, this entire post is just me trying to excuse the hours I spent on the game really.

You probably already heard of that talk about "gamifying your life", and I won't repeat it again here. I'm still learned and probably will add things like a progress bar to see how many tasks I've done one day, small things like that which helps you see your progress daily. And knowing my taste of games and how seeing a progress bar getting to 100% is somewhat satisfying to me, hopefully it would help.

What I want to talk about is on designing your life, and even more, trying to see what pieces to improve, what production line needs more resources and thought on. The same way it is good to break everything into small digestible pieces, if you never stop to see the bigger picture, you never end up seeing your whole progress and how much your factory has grown.

And the other thing to remember is that unfortunately, real life doesn't have a creative mode for most of the time and for most of the people, so resources are limited, and you don't have infinite energy, but would it be fun if it had?

---

Today's artists & creative things

Album/EP: Spare Hearts - by Exit Mouse - This is that album that you forget about, but when you remember it, you need to listen to it again and again. Exit Mouse I discovered because of Goulart (a Brazilian youtuber) which made a video about the online series Cat Ghost, and I simply fell love with the music. Highly recommend, favorite music of the album for me is "This is (Not) (feat. Caleb Hypes)", it just gives a feel of hope but also uneasiness[?] the entire album, and I love it.

Copyright (c) 2023-present Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello  <contact.guz013@gmail.com>

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0) License

[castielific]

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story. 

Summary: 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day. 

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

************

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens. 

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles. 

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate. 

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!" 

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before. 

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east. 

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off. 

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby. 

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now. 

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone. 

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today. 

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin. 

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky. 

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet. 

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear. 

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin. 

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex? 

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze. 

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them. 

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek. 

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar. 

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint. 

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't. 

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone. 

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures. 

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck. 

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes. 

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile. 

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here. 

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled. 

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way, 

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint. 

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'. 

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this. 

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer. 

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not. 

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it. 

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough. 

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces. 

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass. 

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here. 

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey. 

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole. 

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes. 

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?" 

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal. 

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her. 

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments. 

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse. 

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely. 

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off. 

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout. 

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up. 

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand? 

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away. 

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant. 

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair. 

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face. 

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything. 

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…". 

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there. 

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash. 

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day... 

You can read the rest on AO3

[longingfreesia]

more modern au. wc 2443, ao3 mirror

He should've known things would end up like this, with Bluhen inviting them both over to stay the night. Things had been mostly fine thus far, but without Bluhen around to stabilize themー

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I don’t want anything from you, and I never will.”

“I hope you choke.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Can I please at least get dressed before you two start this?” comes Bluhen’s sleepy-sounding voice from somewhere around the living room. Right, he had slept on the couch last night.

Shit, he was awake? How much did he hear? Either way, he was probably already upset… It's not long before a mess of curly hair peeks in around the doorway.

Richter is the first to speak. “I'm sorry, Bluhen. I didn't intend to be so harsh, especially not to our family.” Herrscher scoffs audibly. Richter shoots him a fast glare. “Please excuse us.”

Bluhen yawns. “You don't have to talk so formal to me… We grew up together, silly.” He half-mumbles. Richter gains a confused expression. Herrscher may not care much for him, but growing up together with him along with Bluhen means he knows that Richter can't help it. He's not good at speaking already, but being casual or familiar was near impossible. He feels a bit sympathetic. Ugh.

Bluhen stretches as he yawns again. Herrscher notices he slept in an oversized t-shirt instead of pajamas. He doesn't think he recognizes this one… And it doesn't seem the type of thing he'd buy. A phoru…? Ah, it wasn't his business. “Do you two want breakfast?”

Richter nods. “Yes, that would be lovely.” Herrscher feels a bit annoyed that he answered for them both, but it didn't matter. His answer was the same as his anyway.

Bluhen gives a sleepy smile. “Alright. Go ahead and sit down or get comfortable or whatever. It shouldn't take long.”

Richter nods for the both of them again, and follows up on the instruction shortly. Everything about him is so prim and proper. It's nine o'clock in the morning, dear god, does he have to be like this so early? Herrscher opts not to sit down, rather to lean against the wall where he could see most of the house. The silence is mostly comfortable.

That is, until Richter breaks it. “I need to discuss something with you.”

“What?” Herrscher’s attention along with his gaze is drawn to Richter. He holds the coffee mug he'd been making earlier. He doesn't know how Richter stands the stuff.

Richter taps the mug in his hands one, two, three times, then actually picks it up. “I’m sure you already know by now that Bluhen does not appreciate how we… act.”

“‘Appreciate’ is a weak word for it.”

Richter scowls. “I don’t need your attitude. In any case, I don’t…” His face scrunches up in the way it does when he’s frustrated and trying to figure it out. “...want to upset him any further.”

“And?”

“I am suggesting… we put aside our differences. Or at least attempt to.”

Herrscher scoffs. “Are you willing to stop harassing me whenever I don’t kiss Ishmael’s feet?”

Richter’s grip on the glass tightens. A small impulsive motion only those who'd been around him for years would be able to notice. “Do not speak of Mother in that way,” he hisses. Herrscher only rolls his eyes, not acknowledging him.

Richter takes a breath, composing himself. “Are you willing to compromise with me, here?” He sighs softly. “If not for any reason other than Bluhen’s sake.”

Herrscher mulls over it for a moment. It was true that despite how much Richter annoyed him, Bluhen did get rather upset when they fought. He always pleaded with them to cut it out, and who knows what he asked of Richter when Herrscher wasn’t around. If he told him aboutーWell, whatever.

He didn’t like when Bluhen was upset. (he was all he had, after all. when his sun went out, what was left for him?) He nods with a soft grunt.

“Fine. For him, not for you.” he adds.

“That’s alright by me. Just as long as Bluhen is happy.” With this, Richter stands up, and makes to leave. Herrscher didn’t care where he was going, didn’t bother to watch. He supposes, though, that he should find Bluhen. (truthfully, he was the only one who knew how to cook, and… he’d probably like it if he ate today.)

It takes him a good few minutes to drag himself up out of his thoughts to go look for him. He finds him half-passed out strewn across the couch. Did he not make it to the kitchen? He must not have slept well after all, since he wasn’t in bed… He feels somewhat guilty about it, but Bluhen had insisted. He sits down next to him and gently nudges him.

“Mmh?” Bluhen mumbles before sitting up, albeit immediately drooping onto Herrscher’s shoulder once he’s upright. He’s still sleepy… “Whassit?”

“...Breakfast. Looks like Richter left, as well.”

Bluhen yawns. “Ooh, yeah… Yeah, I saw him go out the door, but I wasn’t really… conscious… to say goodbye. He was probably going to work or somethin’.” he waves his hands around lightly as he speaks. Herrscher knew it was the way he did when he was trying very hard to communicate his thoughts (and failing). He usually tries to reassure him that he’s understandable, but he stays frustrated anyway. He feels Bluhen’s arms wrap around him in a sleepy hug.

“...What’s this for?”

“‘s not for anything. You’re just warm and I like you.” He nuzzles into him. “And, I’m still sleepy… I wanna sleep on you…”

Herrscher, thinking about it honestly, didn’t mind that idea too much. But, still, he should probably confirm… Bluhen has responsibilities, right? (did he, actually…?)

“You don’t have anything you need to take care of?”

Bluhen hums. “Nooo... At least I don’t think so… ‘s probably not important if I do, anyway.”

“...Alright.” Herrscher assures, and Bluhen drops into his lap. Herrscher stiffens a bit in surprise. “You don’t… want to go back to your bed?”

“Mmm… It’d be nice, but… Don’t wanna move.” Bluhen mumbles. Herrscher smiles. He really is kind of lazy… Well. If this was all alright by him, then… He supposed they were staying here until Bluhen woke up. He carefully brushes Bluhen’s hair out of his eyes. He found it admirable that he could be so peaceful. (he wishes he could be as happy as his brother, as well.)

Judging by the fact he wakes up later, he guesses he must have fallen asleep as well. He doesn't know how long he slept for. However, finding out would require moving Bluhen, and considering the fact they had at some point moved to where Herrscher was leaned against the armrest and Bluhen’s head rested against his chest, that wasn't happening. Taking a look at him, his cheek was mushed against his chest. He looks so… tranquil. Herrscher finds himself wondering if he's alright lately. He never did show his emotions wellーno, no, that wasn't right. Herrscher was the one bad at that. Bluhen was wonderful at itーand just as skilled at hiding the ones he didn't want others to see. He knew that if Bluhen was in a bad place, he wouldn't ever tell anyone, maybe not even if he wasn't safe.

(but bluhen was stronger than he was. bluhen wasn't so weak as to be unsafe because of his own head.) He wonders if it would upset him to ask. He could never tell how his words would affect people.

In any case, he should probably wake him. Whatever time it is, it's probably later than he needs to be sleeping. He tries to do so by gently poking his cheeks. Bluhen eventually comes to life, giggling lightly upon realizing what was happening.

“What was that?”

“Waking you up.”

Bluhen hums, sits himself up. “Oh, sorry. I didn't mean toー”

Herrscher shakes his head. Bluhen's smile turns soft. “Oh, shoot, you asked about breakfast but Iーoh!” he gasps and jerks upright. Herrscher starts to say it's fine, he doesn't need to worry about it, then remembers how upset he'd likely be if Herrscher didn't eat. He relents, for now. Bluhen gets up and makes his way into the kitchen, seemingly uncaring of the world around him now. Herrscher watches for a moment before following him with heavy steps.

He finds Bluhen pouting. Herrscher makes a soft noise of questioning, and he turns to look his way.

“Ah, it's just… He used the coffee machine, but there's a lot left… And I don't drink it. So I don't know what to do with the rest…” His shoulders droop as he sighs. “Oh well. I don't know if he'll be back, so I guess I'll have to live with wasting some this time.”

Come to think of it, he didn't drink what he made before… Or did he take it with him? Either way, how rude. Bluhen sets about cleaning up and getting things out. Herrscher suddenly feels a bit awkward not knowing what to do with himself.

Thank god for Bluhen and his intuition. “Oh, I only just realized he left without staying to eat… Ah, I guess it can't be helped.” Herrscher refrains from commenting on what a rude, stuck-up prick Richter is, in favor of not upsetting Bluhen. “Speaking of... Did Richter… talk to you at all?” ...Nevermind. Herrscher doesn't like his intuition anymore.

But he couldn't lie to Bluhen. “...Yes.”

“Was he as… rude as he was when I woke up?”

“No.”

“Oh, that's good,” accompanied by the clattering of a pan on the stove, “I won't pry as to what you talked about. I'm just glad to hear you two aren't always at each other's throats.”

Herrscher can't see his face. (he wouldn't be able to read it anyway if he could, but it still disconcerts him.) His voice sounds odd in a way he can't place. The room soon fills with the sound and smell of cooking. It always felt comforting to Herrscher. A feeling like home and being taken care of, and entirely welcome to him. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

Though the unfamiliar tone of Bluhen's voice still worried him. Maybe he could ask now…?

“...Bluhen.”

“Hmm?” He stays with his back turned.

“...Are you…” Suddenly his throat felt as if filled with clay. What was it about asking that was so difficult?

“Huh? Am I what?” Bluhen glances over to him before quickly returning to the stove.

“...I'm… worried.”

“Ooh…” Bluhen pauses for a few moments, then, “Hold on a minute.” With that, he tries to get everything settled and onto plates. It takes a few minutes, but when it's dealt with, he sighs softly. “Will you come eat with me?”

Herrscher nods. “Thank you,” Bluhen beams. He scoops up the plates he arranged and moves with them to the table in the dining room. Herrscher still feels unsure of what to do with himself.

Once they settle down, Bluhen starts to speak. “Okay. First of all, don't you worry about me, okay?” Herrscher starts to object, but he continues, “I'm fine, okay? I would tell you if something was wrong.”

Herrscher takes a moment to gather the words he needs. “...You wouldn't.”

Bluhen cocks his head. “Huh?”

“You don't. Haven't. You never do.”

“Herr… That's not… It's because it's never real problems! I just, y'know, sometimes it's justーa lot. And it's overwhelming. That's really all.”

Herrscher knows he's lying. He doesn't know if he's aware of it. “...That's not true. You don't tell us about anything until it's bad enough that it’s impossible not to notice.” His words are slow. He at least appreciates how Bluhen lets him find his way through his words like he needs to. “You don't tell anyone that you're being overloaded until you've curled up in a ball on the floor, to name a minor example.”

“That's…” Bluhen sighs. His cheek comes to rest against his hand. “No one needs to deal with my things. So it's okay.”

“...It's… not. You wouldn't… ever let me say that.”

Bluhen runs his hand over his face. “...Alright. I guess you're right about that… ...I'm sorry.”

Herrscher simply shakes his head. Bluhen always understands. He would also likely be able to tell that speaking this much is tiring for him. Bluhen leans over and takes Herrscher’s hand in his own. “If you're worried about how I'm feeling… I promise I really am fine. Maybe a bit tired, but I'm okay.”

“...Promise.”

Bluhen laughs softly. He links their pinkies together and shakes their hands. “There.”

Herrscher finds himself blushing. He knows no one else was around to see it, but it was still embarrassing for Bluhen to have him do something like they would've as children…

“And what about you? You don't exactly tell anyone how you're feeling, either.”

Herrscher feels a bit of dread sink through his chest. Of course he would flip the script on him… He should've expected this. Perhaps he should be a little worried about it, wondering if Bluhen was doing this just so that they wouldn't be talking about him anymore, butーAh, well. “...I'm alright.”

“Is that the truth?”

“...Of course.”

Bluhen’s face scrunches up. “No, it's not, I can tell.” He squeezes Herrscher’s hand. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Of course he could. Bluhen was the only person he could tell anything.

Now, though, he doesn't want to. He knows Bluhen will just worry. Ah… He can't lie to him.

“...I know. It's never… really… good, but… it's not the worst it could be. I'm not going to hurt myself. Don't worry about it.”

Bluhen gently clasps his other hand around Herrscher's. “Promise?”

Herrscher nods subtly. “I stopped doing that ages ago.” (maybe he had simply replaced it with starving himself, or not getting out of bed for three days at a time, but… it was better. it had to be.) “I don't plan to go back.”

Bluhen squeezes his hand again. “That's good. You promised you'll tell me if you're upset, too, just now.”

Herrscher raises an eyebrow, amused. “I did.”

Bluhen nods firmly. “Yes, you did. And I expect you to keep it.”

Herrscher almost laughs at how determined he is. He's a bit like a child. He never has really changed since he was one. “Alright.”

“Great! Then will you eat with me now?”

Herrscher nods. He's always happy to see Bluhen’s smile. This time is no exception. (and, of course, his cooking was always goodーbut the look on his face was much better.)

[canaryatlaw]

Okayy, well today was pretty good. I'm not sure if I'm still riding my high from yesterday or it's a combination of upping one of my meds from my psych appointment Monday and being back in the office actually with people. When we were doing limited staff in the office days it very much felt like a chore and was very draining because I was interacting with way fewer people, and I'm such a huge extrovert that would just lead to me feeling very depressed and making it very difficult to get out of bed in the morning on office days, which has always been the most classic depression symptom for me, dating back to high school and me missing way too much school (40 absences and 40 lates for both my junior and senior years, lucked out that I had a 4.0 gpa and could still do just fine missing that much). but the last two days of being in the office with more people have been way better and I've been in a better mood overall, so that's definitely an improvement I'm very happy about. but yeah, woke up at 7 and trucked off to work. I'm not sure if it was because I was going a little earlier than I had been lately, but the train was definitely the most crowded it's been since pre-pandemic (and I'm assuming it will continue to get more crowded, so I will likely continue to say this many more times). Before the pandemic it was BAD bad, like as many people as physically possible shoved into the train car with absolutely no personal space (literally on top of each other) which was obviously already extremely unpleasant, so with the added stress of potential covid transmission, I'm seriously hoping we never get back to that level, but I guess we'll see. It was a relatively calm day at the courthouse, we had some confusion at first because we had two interns who were supposed to be in on the schedule but neither of them actually showed up (for separate reasons), so we just had two volunteers that are here from a law school in another state on their spring break doing a week long project. so we ended up pairing them together on a case despite them only observing one before, but they both did surprisingly well. I've viewed a lot of first attempts at filling things out, and these were definitely on the higher quality end. So that was the only case we were able to do in person, but we had some remotes going as well. I had the law students accompany the client up to court and they ended up in front of one of my favorite judges, who they said was super nice to them and the client and when the client was done was like "oh are you guys students? we love having you here!" which was just super great to hear because I know some judges have given off very bad impressions before, which is very frustrating. She was one of the judges when I first started working here back in 2019, but she was then transferred to a criminal courtroom doing bond court for a while (same building, but we had very limited very limited interaction with her) then they transferred her back earlier this year, so I've been very glad to have her back. Overall our judges are really good right now, so I'm happy about that. I did have a case up in court that was kinda crazy last week but it turns out the lawyer I was dealing with last week who did some pretty dumb shit is not the main attorney on the case, and based on the limited interaction we had in court, this guy seems much more reasonable, so I'm taking that as a good sign and hoping this case doesn't end up being (yet another) shit show. I had my monthly check in with my boss while we were having a bit of a lull in clinic that went well, I'm definitely feeling good overall about my cases at the moment, which is a great feeling. I also really like just chatting with my boss now and swapping court stories haha so that's a great improvement from initially being very hesitant to talk to her outside of like, asking her for help on something, but she's really great so I'm very glad to have her. Stuck around till 5 and then headed out, for some reason the bus was hitting a ton of traffic, so it took me a while longer than normal and I

had made plans with roommate to go to party city to grab some stuff for her classroom and then go to olive garden because I was craving pasta, and party city closed at 7, so she ended up meeting me in her car a little closer on the bus route and we went from there. party city and olive garden were both good, we were joking with our waiter at olive garden a lot and he seemed to find our dumb shit genuinely hilarious, so I gave him a nice tip for putting up with us lol. Went home from there, chilled with roommate for a little before she headed to bed, then just did my thing until I showered and got ready for bed, and now I'm here. Working from home tomorrow but still got court in the morning and feeling quite sleepy, so I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight friends. Love you all.