#ten ff

[theficblog]

RUN, STUPID

TEN LEE

Prologue: You take ten to a local strip club, hoping you’d get some free food, but what happens when a dancer takes to your lap instead?

Genre: Crack + Established relationship AU

Wordcount: 1,331

Warnings: Mature content [ alcohol + strip tease + lap dance + language ]

"Are you sure?" Ten asked with a concerned look in his eyes, something that wasn’t usual unless it was about demanding proper explanations regarding his feline’s meals at the store.

"Of course! It’s not like somebody’s gonna murder us!" You reassured him, taking his hand in yours.

"We're doing this for cheap food? Tell me again that you are sure." He was still on the fence regarding your intention of going to this mid graded strip club only to get some nice cuisine at a lower price and possibly kill two birds with one stone.

As you went inside, you hastily pulled his hand along with you. Before allowing the two of you in, they conducted a quick security check. Too posh for a place like this, you thought. 

"We aren't even dressed for it." Ten whined, toying with your hand.

"We don't need to dress, this is literally a strip club." You were quick to shut him up but he wasn’t the easy type.

"Strip club? What do you mean? I'm not showing off my priceless physique to make some cash." He protested, purposefully being extra this evening.

You released his hold and folded your hands. Glancing around as if absorbing the atmosphere.

"I've never been here before." You expressed.

"I haven't either, baby."  He too, was taken aback by the room's opulence to respond. Maybe the two of you could have just been to the university cafe and worked on your assignments instead. 

Cliche neon green lights with a combination of bright white lasers were being thrown around in the room in rhythmic rotations. It was blasting sensual music and heavily autotuned voices of women moaning. This place was full of people, all of them fully clothed and yet the food was nowhere to be seen.

You sat on one of the sofa lounges along with Ten, moving your gaze at every corner hoping you would be able to read the air, as he did the same. 

A group of women passing by in sparkling, golden, and silver attire gave you two the side-eye. You may have been underdressed, as Ten suggested.

"What happens next?" He questioned as he sank his face into his hands.

"I don't know. Where are the girls?" You examined.

"And where is the food?" He sighed out of annoyance.

You were still oblivious while a quarter of an hour passed at the pace of a snail. This place was certainly not like the ones they showed in the movies, something was actually odd.

"Let's just leave." Ten followed your suggestion after you picked up your backpack.

But you and the man were stopped right then by one of the managers, who quickly ordered a waiter and offered you a few drinks and some free food. The food was only complementary, you see, and most of the people in the room were the least bothered about it anyways.

Ten asked you to affirm as he peered into your eyes, and you nodded.

"We easily have the money to relax here instead, so maybe we can go to that gala later." You spoke dramatically, loud enough so that the waitstaff, supervisors, and other customers could hear you. The exaggeration was embarrassing. 

They shouldn't ever be aware of the reason for your visit. You flipped your hair back as Ten facepalmed at your odd move.

“All that can probably do is paint us even more fishy in their eyes, Y/N i swear to god!” Ten commented.

“If you’re doing this just so we can go back to the hostel and see that flop movie you like, then this ain’t working.” The man blinked dramatically as though his eyelids were heavy.

After setting up the table with only a little variety of snacks and drinks, they left while you took turns sipping and each one. That was the most you could do.

The stage, which was about to be used for the performance, was the centre of attention, and it was a revolving one.

"Shit's getting real!" Ten beamed as he started to poke you on the shoulder relentlessly.

"Chill." You asked him to calm down.

In the beginning, it was only the dancers performing sensual dances. There was nothing too special about it you thought. "You could do better than them." You suggested your boyfriend. "Oh, of course." He joked along with you.

The actual business soon got underway as the fanciest, laciest clothing items were one by one flung to the floor, leaving only the barest necessities.

Ten was astounded by the acts and covered his eyes with his palms.

"What?" He continued to close his eyes even after you pushed his hand away.

"I'm a loyal boyfriend." He explained.

"Just look at it as art then." While keeping your eyes glued to the show, you exclaimed.

"They are doing what? I thought their policy was ‘just see, no touch’?" He asked about the dancers' performance because one of them had begun to execute a lap dance for a middle-aged drunk man seated at a different table.

"No, I guess they had to pay for the additional services." You answered Ten's query, who was busy stuffing his mouth with the fries by now.

He showed a thumbs up, indicating he was satisfied.

By the time one of the other dancers began to approach you, Ten was still fixated on the food. They must have had a clear misunderstanding because you believed you were not responsible for paying for it, even though the club sounded not too expensive, you were still unsure if you wanted it, it wasn’t just about the money.

She sat down in your lap less than a second later, shocking you momentarily as you sat there frozen.

Ten's eyes widened as he attempted to talk to her. "No, sorry, I don’t think she’s liking it." He stated, signaling a no with the gesture of his hands, too.

With the blink of an eye, it became more heated this time as she began to move her hands and hips to the excessively sexy beats playing in the background.

Your guy had already stood up at this point. "Why don't you understand it right away? Hold it!" He kept talking. “Excuse me?!”

She took your hands in hers and put them on your body as you made an effort to stop by lifting your hands to her.

"Get off my girl, you bitch!" He screamed, throwing one of the drinks on her and attracting everyone's attention. This was one very impulsive act. 

The club instantly froze. The dancer hastily left, but something didn't feel right. Nothing about this place has been right since the time you entered.

"Am I sensing trouble?" Ten was in a panic.

"Stupid, all you could have done was yell." You swore.

"What should we do now?" He asked.

Contrary to expectations, this conversation moved forward much more quickly.

"Run!" As you scooped up your backpacks, you yelled.

Gasps and gossips could be heard as you leaped upon the sofas and chairs. There was at least one bouncer chasing you out if not two or three, but none of you had the foresight or bravery to glance behind. Tall and well built men in those dark coloured suits and black glasses, while you two looked like kids in front of them. 

You continued running for around minutes before stopping to collect your breath in what seemed like a ghosted alley.

Ten followed after to make sure. "They've left." He was panting heavily as he put his hands on his knees.

"Fuck!" You swore.

"This was crazy." He remarked. "Your free food idea was horrible, baby. But I won’t lie I’m full for tonight." He chuckled. “More with adrenaline though.”

"Yeah?” You flicked him off as he joined your laughter and started clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Are we real?" He spoke while caressing your face and gazing intently into your eyes.

"Very much!" You spoke up and gave him a quick smooch.

LET ME KNOW YOUR VIEWS + ALSO SEE : MASTERLIST

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING ,TRANSLATING, OR POSTING OUTSIDE THIS PLATFORM.  

[doiefics]

run, stupid

pairing: ten lee x gn!reader

prologue: you take ten to a local strip club, hoping you’d get some free food, but what happens when a dancer takes to your lap instead?

genre: crack + established relationship!au

wordcount: 1,334

warnings: mature content [ alcohol + strip tease + lap dance + language ]

"Are you sure?" Ten asked with a concerned look in his eyes, something that wasn’t usual unless it was about demanding proper explanations regarding his feline’s meals at the store.

"Of course! It’s not like somebody’s gonna murder us!" You reassured him, taking his hand in yours.

"We're doing this for cheap food? Tell me again that you are sure." He was still on the fence regarding your intention of going to this mid graded strip club only to get some nice cuisine at a lower price and possibly kill two birds with one stone.

As you went inside, you hastily pulled his hand along with you. Before allowing the two of you in, they conducted a quick security check. Too posh for a place like this, you thought. 

"We aren't even dressed for it." Ten whined, toying with your hand.

"We don't need to dress, this is literally a strip club." You were quick to shut him up but he wasn’t the easy type.

"Strip club? What do you mean? I'm not showing off my priceless physique to make some cash." He protested, purposefully being extra this evening.

You released his hold and folded your hands. Glancing around as if absorbing the atmosphere.

"I've never been here before." You expressed.

"I haven't either, baby."  He too, was taken aback by the room's opulence to respond. Maybe the two of you could have just been to the university cafe and worked on your assignments instead. 

Cliche neon blue lights with a combination of bright white lasers were being thrown around in the room in rhythmic rotations. It was blasting sensual music and heavily autotuned voices of people moaning. This place was full of people, all of them fully clothed and yet the food was nowhere to be seen.

You sat on one of the sofa lounges along with Ten, moving your gaze at every corner hoping you would be able to read the air, as he did the same. 

A group of people passing by in sparkling, golden, and silver attire gave you two the side-eye. You may have been underdressed, as Ten suggested.

"What happens next?" He questioned as he sank his face into his hands.

"I don't know. Where are the strippers?" You examined.

"And where is the food?" He sighed out of annoyance.

You were still oblivious while a quarter of an hour passed at the pace of a snail. This place was certainly not like the ones they showed in the movies, something was actually odd.

"Let's just leave." Ten followed your suggestion after you picked up your backpack.

But you and the man were stopped right then by one of the managers, who quickly ordered a waiter and offered you a few drinks and some free food. The food was only complementary, you see, and most of the people in the room were the least bothered about it anyways.

Ten asked you to affirm as he peered into your eyes, and you nodded.

"We easily have the money to relax here instead, so maybe we can go to that gala later." You spoke dramatically, loud enough so that the waitstaff, supervisors, and other customers could hear you. The exaggeration was embarrassing. 

They shouldn't ever be aware of the reason for your visit, you thought. You flipped your hair back as Ten facepalmed at your odd move.

“All that can probably do is paint us even more fishy in their eyes, Y/N i swear to god!” Ten commented.

“If you’re doing this just so we can go back to the hostel and see that flop movie you like, then this ain’t working.” The man blinked dramatically as though his eyelids were heavy.

After setting up the table with only a little variety of snacks and drinks, they left while you took turns sipping and each one. That was the most you could do.

The stage, which was about to be used for the performance, was the centre of attention, and it was a revolving one.

"Shit's getting real!" Ten beamed as he started to poke you on the shoulder relentlessly.

"Chill." You asked him to calm down.

In the beginning, it was only the dancers performing sensual dances. There was nothing too special about it you thought. "You could do better than them." You suggested your boyfriend. "Oh, of course." He joked along with you.

The actual business soon got underway as the fanciest, laciest clothing items were one by one flung to the floor, leaving only the barest necessities.

Ten was astounded by the acts and covered his eyes with his palms.

"What?" He continued to close his eyes even after you pushed his hand away.

"I'm a loyal boyfriend." He explained.

"Just look at it as art then." While keeping your eyes glued to the show, you exclaimed.

"They are doing what? I thought their policy was ‘just see, no touch’?" He asked about the dancers' performance because one of them had begun to execute a lap dance for a middle-aged drunk man seated at a different table.

"No, I guess they had to pay for the additional services." You answered Ten's query, who was busy stuffing his mouth with the fries by now.

He showed a thumbs up, indicating he was satisfied.

By the time one of the other dancers began to approach you, Ten was still fixated on the food. They must have had a clear misunderstanding because you believed you were not responsible for paying for it, even though the club sounded not too expensive, you were still unsure if you wanted it, it wasn’t just about the money.

The stripper sat down in your lap less than a second later, shocking you momentarily as you sat there frozen.

Ten's eyes widened as he attempted to talk to them. "No, sorry, I don’t think she’s liking it." He stated, signaling a no with the gesture of his hands, too.

With the blink of an eye, it became more heated this time as they began to move their hands and hips to the excessively sexy beats playing in the background.

Your guy had already stood up at this point. "Why don't you understand it right away? Hold it!" He kept talking. “Excuse me?!”

They took your hands in theirs and put them on your body as you made an effort to stop by lifting your hands to them.

"Get off my girl, you bitch!" He screamed, throwing one of the drinks on them and attracting everyone's attention. This was one very impulsive act. 

The club instantly froze. The dancer hastily left, but something didn't feel right. Nothing about this place has been right since the time you entered.

"Am I sensing trouble?" Ten was in a panic.

"Stupid, all you could have done was yell." You swore.

"What should we do now?" He asked.

Contrary to expectations, this conversation moved forward much more quickly.

"Run!" As you scooped up your backpacks, you yelled.

Gasps and gossips could be heard as you leaped upon the sofas and chairs. There was at least one bouncer chasing you out if not two or three, but none of you had the foresight or bravery to glance behind. Tall and well built men in those dark coloured suits and black glasses, while you two looked like kids in front of them. 

You continued running for around minutes before stopping to collect your breath in what seemed like a ghosted alley.

Ten followed after to make sure. "They've left." He was panting heavily as he put his hands on his knees.

"Fuck!" You swore.

"This was crazy." He remarked. "Your free food idea was horrible, baby. But I won’t lie I’m full for tonight." He chuckled. “More with adrenaline though.”

"Yeah?” You flicked him off as he joined your laughter and started clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Are we real?" He spoke while caressing your face and gazing intently into your eyes.

"Very much!" You spoke up and gave him a quick smooch.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[gunsatthaphan]

"maybe we should stop."

[ganondoodle]

kind of expected that the ability breakdown wouldnt get that much traction (especially on twitter bc if it doesnt do well in the first few hours it might as well be dead) but what i didnt need to wake up to was looking at my twitter notifications and thinking there was a long comment on it at first but then i read it and it turned out to be some guy having dug up one of my old totk tweets where i talked about how zelda was treated-

and if a quote retweet with a thread attached already starts with "this entitled brat didnt understand that zelda was being a history nerd by being in the past and getting to experience it herself" with two screenshots attached of the end of totk with zelda staring at the cam all uwu (which has ??? to do with their point??) i dont even want to know what else was in that thread

if thats how the majority of the fandom is then im even less surprised that nintendy doesnt even have to try to write anything good :I

ah yes, i am a game nerd, and by putting me in a game where i stand around doing puppy dog eyes while being shoved around by NPCs is me being a game nerd OBVIOSULY

[hey-heigo]

have a shitty unfinished comic from ages ago

[luzeiin]

guns n roses!! based on 'the chain' by merril_fran on ao3, really enjoyed the fanfic :>

[doverstar]

the real trouble I have when writing Eleven/Rose stuff is that if it's gonna be believable to canon, he cannot just be randomly traveling with her. I did Lost and Rewritten. I already did that. and that's the closest thing I feel like getting to human AUs and domestic AUs etc. like oh it's fine with the Tenth Doctor, with him they can be doing anything, but with Eleven/Rose the circumstances have to be so specific. I don't want to write "Dimension Hopping Rose Runs Into Eleven" because that bores me personally. I don't want to write toughened lonely soldier Rose. I already did that. I want to write the Eleventh Doctor not with Clara and not necessarily dragging the Ponds along behind him, with Rose, but also not any kind of AU. which boxes me in QUITE A LOT-

[potionwine]

Thinking about Margrace as Joshua's name post-Phoenix Gate.

Mar-grace.

In FFXVI the Undying choose their own names (Cyril explains this in-game), and many of them have names drawn from Final Fantasy XII, including their leader 'Margrace' himself, from Al-Cid Margrace. The page for Al-Cid notes that Margrace is likely an alternate form of the title 'margrave', an old title for military commanders on the border.

That aside. This is the name chosen (by the boy himself?) for the boy who should have rightfully been known henceforth as 'Your Grace', 'His Grace'.

Grace (style of address), from the Oxford English Dictionary:

With a possessive adjective: a title of respect, esp. for a person of royal or noble rank. Frequently (in 'your Grace') as a form of address. Now archaic or historical. Formerly (in England until the reign of Henry VIII and in Scotland until 1707) used for a monarch or prince; now replaced by Majesty or Highness. Even so, "Majesty" for the sovereign of England was not used exclusively; it arbitrarily alternated with both "Highness" and "Grace", even in official documents, until "Majesty" finally became the official style to the exclusion of others (source).

Grace (other meanings):

1. Divine favour, benevolence, or providence bringing about worldly benefit or advantage. 2. A person's lot, destiny, or fate; luck, fortune. 3. The quality of being pleasing; attractiveness, charm; esp. (in later use) refined elegance of manner, expression, form, or movement, esp. regarded as natural or effortless; gracefulness.

Whatever the etymology of margrave, the name Margrace in-game is probably meant to call to mind the meaning of 'mar' as in damaged, spoiled, ruined. All the grace that ever belonged to his family, his home, his birthright—marred, of course.

Mar+Grace, the last heir of the oldest unbroken ruling dynasty in the Twins at the time of the opening events of the game**.

The living ghost, carrying the desecrated corpse of his legacy in his new name. Introducing himself by his humiliation: "Hello, I am Margrace", "Hello, I am the ruined dignity of my house." "Call me Margrace", "Call me the wreckage of one fallen from divine favour." "My name is Margrace", "My name is blemished fortunes and diminished nobility".

It's appropriately brutal and dramatic for such a character, especially since the game is frustratingly silent on how Joshua personally feels about the loss of his duchy which is a rant for next time.

**Footnotes:

In the Year 860 (Prologue year/Phoenix Gate), Rosaria is about 260 years old (est. Y600). Older, if you count from the time of the Rose Alliance (est. Y550). The Rosfields have been on the Rosarian throne since the inception of the duchy in Y600, and prior to that House Rosfield was already known to be the chief of/the preeminent house of the Seven High Houses that united to found the duchy. House Rosfield has held ruling power for 260-310 years at a minimum.

For reference, England's longest-reigning dynasty was the Plantagenets, who held on for 300+ years. Rosfields aren't doing half bad!

Veldemarke would have been older had it not been overthrown by Barnabas; therefore Waloed is the youngest nation state at the time of the prologue (only 17 years old). Also we do not know much about the governance of Veldemarke, although as a 'kingdom' it was likely some type of monarchy.

Sanbreque was formed 100 years after Rosaria, and at any rate is not actually a hereditary monarchy. The Holy Emperor is voted into office by his fellow Cardinals, likely the five who form the Council of Elders. We are also explicitly told that Sylvestre 'won his throne' in 865; there is no indication either way that his predecessor emperor was a Lesage. The wording suggests the throne is not Sylvestre's by lineage or birthright. How this is supposed to relate to the concept of Sanbreque having a 'crown prince' (Dion) is unclear and contradictory, since an emperor by election should probably not have the authority to unilaterally decide on the succession of the throne, and his issue—legitimate or no—should not automatically be in the line of succession.

Dhalmekia is a republic with elected officials.

The Iron Kingdom apparently has a royal family, but nothing else is known apart from it being impotent and sidelined by their state religion.

The Northern Tribes likely do have hereditary rule, and Jill is referred to as a princess, but once again little is known.

Ergo—and I am ceaseless in this propaganda—Clive and Joshua are really, properly posh! Absolutely baffling that Anabella would allow anyone to put down the pedigree of her sons when they are so blue-blooded precisely because she is! For someone with such entrenched ideas of blood purity she should not stand for it, no matter how she feels about her eldest.

[ghoulliojr]

JESUS CHROIST Ambrosia you are a BIG BIG GORL

[disaster-racing]

[thedevilundercover]

TFW you read a new book or watch a movie and you fall in love with it but it literally does not exist on the internet

[foldingfittedsheets]

My mom has this awful friend, Cynthia. My loathing goes deep enough that I’m not even going to change her name. If she ever finds this she knows what she did.

On multiple occasions my mom asked this horrible irresponsible chicken brained woman to watch after our animals while we were away. I don’t know why once wasn’t enough, because the first failure was so spectacular that anyone in their right mind would know she couldn’t be trusted with any level of responsibility or direction following.

You might be thinking to yourself, FFS, this level of antipathy is surely unwarranted! But you’d be wrong.

To set the scene, we were living in downstairs of our house when I was about fifteen. My mom has always wanted more animals than can reasonably be kept indoors which is how we ended up with three cats. When she wanted to kick them all outside I protested, and so all three cats lived in my bedroom with no access to the rest of the house.

That really wasn’t great, so in an attempt to give them options we made a window cutout with a cat door in it to give them access to the outdoors. Looking back on this as an environmentally conscious adult it’s wretched, cats should be indoor only, but at the time I was desperate to give them some freedom because one bedroom is too small for three cats.

So my parents and I went on a week long trip to visit family out of state. We told Cynthia to come feed and water the cats, and to scoop the litter box. Most importantly, don’t lock the handle of the door, because we only have the key to the deadbolt.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Cynthia locked us out. We arrived home after 12 hours on the road, desperate for the comfort of our own beds. We were met with an unyielding door. With a sigh I volunteered, “I can punch in the cat door and climb in the window.”

I slipped behind the bamboo outside my window and pushed in the cutout. A horrible insidious reek wafted out at me. I paused, prickling with foreboding. But I had a job to do, and by god I’d see it through. I hefted myself up into the window and my hand immediately landed in something wet.

Skin crawling, I pulled myself up and surveyed the darkened room as a miserable odor of decay and suffering poured out of the room around me. I could see dark shapes littering the carpet and it didn’t take a genius to guess that the cats had taken up hunting in a big way during my absence.

I pulled my hand out of the pile of vomit it had landed in and dropped into my onetime bedroom turned now into a hellpit of decomposing wretchedness. I turned on the light. I wished I had not turned on the light.

My eyes scanned across the floor, tallying as they went. Two dead birds, a dead baby rabbit, five dead mice, and one dead snake. I paused on my alarm clock, perplexed to see a stain of white on it. I stepped closer and saw a furtive movement.

The tally suddenly contained also: one live bird that had shit in several places, probably in pure terror to find itself trapped in a room littered with decomposing woodland creatures, which honestly, fair. I coaxed it out the window and finished the survey with five discrete piles of vomit.

I unlocked the door and let my parents in. They exclaimed in disgust at the horrible smell. We stood together in my doorway floored by the magnitude of neglect. The unscooped litter box was a subtle footnote in the tangible reek my living space. I disposed of the parade of ecological disaster, cleaned vomit, and scooped the box after a brutally long day on the road. The cats were fine, and happy to see me. They had a huge dish or food and water so Cynthia’s neglect at least hadn’t harmed them.

Then I slept on the couch while my bedroom aired out, the windows flung wide to dispel the uneasy ghosts of the hunted. I spent the whole night cursing Cynthia’s name for this evil she’d visited upon me. When my mom asked her, "Cynthia, didn't you see the dead animals?"

Cynthia responded, "Yes, they smelled so bad, I just ran in and out as fast as I could." I fully don't believe she did any caretaking, and I'm personally of the opinion that she locked herself out on the first day and never came back.

The next day my room had returned to a habitable level of smellscape and I gratefully crawled into my bed that night. I stretched out and froze as my foot brushed something cold and wet?

The final indignity: one last dead snake, inside my very sheets.

Fucking Cynthia.

[gunsatthaphan]

loading sweetness.... 🧁

[cosmogyros]

It's fucking weird how rude people are about immigration sometimes. And I don't just mean bigots being biased and stuff. I mean that, on a REGULAR basis, people ask me if I'm thinking about "going back to the US". And I'm just like... no? What do you mean "back to the US"? I live in Germany. I LIVE IN GERMANY.

I literally fucking started learning German and obsessing on German culture in high school, then I went to college in the US and majored in German Studies, including two study-abroad programs in Germany, then I moved to Germany for grad school and lived there for three years and worked in various German-speaking jobs while studying, then I had to temporarily return to the US but found a German-translation-based job at the US branch of a German company, and made a bunch of German or at least German-speaking friends in my new US city, and then a few years later I was able to move back to Germany, where I got a work visa sponsored by my employer and a full-time salaried job, and after a few more years I acquired my permanent residency, and soon I'll be applying for citizenship.

And people still sometimes ask me whether I'm considering "going back to the US". Like... dude? Would you ask a Mexican living in the US about their plans for "going back to Mexico"? That is rude as fuck.

Immigration is fucking hard. Why on earth would I have gone through all this shit just to throw it up in the air like "Oh well, never mind!"

[kneworder]

just hit me i've been reading fanfiction from 20 years ago. i thought to myself well it's been a while but maybe they'll update sometime anyway! but it was put on hiatus 20 years ago. because fanfiction.net was around 20 years ago. and it's been 20 years.