#that they’re homeless now and can’t afford a hotel

[desperatecheesecubes]

I said

Your actions will decide

Your future

And you said

It is fine

This is not my bed

I am not making it

But you are lying in it

You are lying in it

You are lying in it

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

People don’t listen to warnings.

It’s a thing.

For a while I became obsessed by a video recorded on the day of the 2004 Southeast Asian tsunami. It shows an older white guy, probably a tourist, standing on the beach in Thailand watching as the water recedes and the tsunami comes into view. As people run, as the wave grows, he just stands there. People start shouting at him, desperately pointing to the wave, trying to warn him. The wave grows, rushing closer and closer. Even now when I watch this video I still think he’s going to move. Of course he never moves. He doesn’t move an inch. The wave comes ashore and swallows him. —Nate Bear, “Staring at The Tsunami”

Every time a hurricane hits, some people choose to stay even if they have the resources to leave. In fact, research indicates that 35-50 percent of residents leave during mandatory evacuation warnings. During Hurricane Ian in 2022, about 62 percent of residents evacuated. Evacuation orders only increase someone’s willingness to evacuate by about 4-6 percent. When governments aggressively enforce evacuation orders in dangerous areas, 90 percent comply.

The rest of them stay.

According to one study, about 60-70 percent of those who don’t evacuate have said it’s because they don’t have anywhere to go and can’t afford a hotel. That group includes the unemployed, the homeless, and the vulnerable. During Hurricane Helene, thousands of inmates have been left behind.

What about the ones who can leave?

These numbers line up with the rest of our problems. Time and again, about 60 percent of us listen to warnings. Many people want to listen but don’t have the resources to protect themselves. About 10-20 percent have the resources, but they refuse to take warnings seriously.

They’re the hurricane headbanger, but not as famous.

I’ve got a feeling that the hurricane headbanger can take care of himself, but there’s a large portion of the population who thinks they can take care of themselves when they can’t. This group routinely shrugs off warnings. When things get really bad, they soak up resources that should go to the ones who really need them, the ones who can’t evacuate, the ones who can’t protect themselves.

We’re not here to make light of natural disasters. We’re here to understand why, as we face an increasing number of devastating threats, a growing number of people don’t want to take them seriously. There’s a range of theories, including what Neil Weinstein called unrealistic optimism, the notion that people routinely believe bad things are more likely to happen to someone else.

Here’s another theory:

A psychologist at Duke University named Jack Brehm figured out this problem in the 1960s. He called it reactance. He published a handful of articles about it followed by a book titled A Theory of Psychological Reactance. His book inspired 60 years of research on the topic. It even informed the popular psychological trick known as reverse psychology. Brehm discovered something you've seen a lot over the last few years. When you try to influence someone's actions, they resist. When people feel a threat to their perceived independence, they get angry.

They try to restore their freedom.

They might ignore the warning. They might make fun of you. They might pitch a fit. They might punch you in the face.

It depends.

Reactance means that the ones who don’t listen to warnings perceive the loss of their freedom as the greatest threat of all.

They protect it at all costs.

Everyone has their own reactance scale. It lives on a spectrum. At one end, you have collectively minded people. They tend to focus on the greater good. They're more likely to give up certain freedoms if it means avoiding death and destruction. On the other end, you have rugged individualists who see almost every warning or suggestion as a threat to their personal freedom.

Here's the weird part:

An individualist will get angrier if a friend or relative tries to influence their behavior in a way that threatens their sense of personal freedom.

They're also more likely to resist advice or information coming to them through anyone promoted as an expert or authority figure. You'd think the opposite would be true, that individualists would be more inclined to listen to people among their ingroup. Nope, their thinking isn't rooted in logic.

It's rooted in narcissism.

The harder you try to influence them, the worse it gets.

They only become more aggressive.

Brehm found that you can't even do a favor for someone on the extreme end of the reactance spectrum. They feel pressure to return the favor.

They hate that.

People can also feel vicarious reactance.

In other words, they'll get angry if they see someone else getting angry about perceived losses to their personal freedom. They'll defend someone else's right to do something stupid, simply because it's their right.

Censoring or restricting someone's freedoms can often enhance the attractiveness of that freedom. It's the forbidden fruit at work. Take something away, and that's suddenly all they want to do. Tell them to wear a seatbelt. Tell them smoking is bad for them. Suddenly, it's the cool thing to do.

You can trigger someone's reactance overtly by using controlling language. But you can also trigger it indirectly, even accidentally. If someone happens to associate a request or a warning with something negative in their life, like a controlling spouse, then they're less likely to listen.

A lot of people get a real kick out of ignoring warnings. They enjoy disregarding advice from experts. They love harassing and ridiculing those of us who do take threats and warnings seriously.

It elevates them.

Individualists only tend to take warnings seriously when a threat becomes absolute. They wait until the volcano erupts. They wait until the waves crash ashore. They wait until the flames lick their skin. Only then do they react, and it's usually a panic-driven response to save themselves. They don't do anything to help anyone else, and their panic causes problems for everyone else.

There's a cultural component.

You see less reactance in more collectivist societies. You see more reactance in individualist societies. I think we can all agree that western countries, especially the U.S., pride themselves on their individual freedoms. Every single day, Americans celebrate their right to act stupid and do dangerous things.

It's getting to be a real pathology over here.

So, what can you do?

The research suggests you have to be as indirect and neutral as possible when trying to influence someone's behavior.

Even then, you might fail.

Again, it depends. You can be direct with some people. And with others, there's pretty much nothing you can do. You just have to leave them alone. We've seen how well neutral, indirect attempts work at getting individualists to change their behavior. Maybe you'll avoid making them angry, but they'll likely just ignore you, even laugh at you. So as we stare down more threats, along with all the other consequences of an overheated planet, don't be shocked at all the reactance you see. Don't be surprised when you see people wanting to cuddle with birds and drink unpasteurized milk, simply because someone told them it's a bad idea right now. By trying to help someone, you triggered their reactance. I wrote the first draft of this post a year ago. Since then, as predicted, sales of raw milk jumped 21 percent after reports of bird flu in milk samples earlier this year.

If there’s no hope of convincing some of these people, then we have to do the next best thing. We have to push back. We have to limit their influence on others, to try to contain the damage. We live in a society that spends far too much time platforming, rewarding, and catering to the reactance crowd. We give them too much credibility, which they’ve used to virtually destroy our institutions.

People don’t listen to warnings.

It’s a thing.

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 17 (Late)

Pick Your Own (Rumor Mill) - Modern Day College AU

“I need to move out of the dorms by tomorrow, what am I supposed to do?” Hero’s clothes were half packed and mostly on his bed, but Zenos still found amusement in watching his roommate pace about the room, weaving around their suitcases and boxes as he did. “What do you mean figure it out? Why can’t I just go to Thavnair with you?” Another pause as he clearly listened to his mother’s reply- of course it was his mother. Tetsu wouldn’t have been nearly as blunt about things. Zenos had heard from both of them over the course of the semester. “Did you have to sell my apartment then, the deadline for requesting to stay on campus was last week! Why couldn’t this have waited until next moon?”

Hero only knew that because of Asahi. Zenos resumed packing now that Hero was in the bargaining stages of his fight with his parents’ choices. Asahi had permission to remain in the dorms until next semester due to trouble in his family. The trouble being his parents attempting to force him into an arranged marriage to keep him from dating another man. They couldn’t marry him off if he wasn’t there to sign the contracts, it had worked for his elder sister. She was going on five years of burning any mail she got from their parents and had been the one to advise him to remain away from home as long as possible.

“Yes, okay, I’ll figure it out. Fine. Goodbye.” Hero hung up only to fling himself onto the pile of freshly laundered clothes and poorly folded sheets on his bed. “I’m fucked.”

“You just need a place to stay during winter break, yes?” Zenos looked carefully over at his roommate, weighing the options in his mind.

“Yes, and apparently their current employer doesn’t have space for an extra person. They sold my apartment because they’re planning to put down roots in Thavnair for at least three years and the apartment lease says they can’t sublet it and someone needs to be occupying it at all times to minimize risk of things like pipes freezing and whatnot.” He grabbed his pillow and put it over his face to scream into it for a few moments before throwing it back at the wall. “I’m fucking homeless. Fantastic.”

“My family has room.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the whole truth. The Garlean Royal family palace most certainly could accommodate Hero. Hell, it could accommodate their entire dorm floor without too much trouble. However, in the time Zenos had known Hero he’d been pleasant. Friendly, willing to allow the prince his privacy, and hadn’t asked about his parents, his position as crown prince, or even indicated he cared about any of it. He made Zenos feel normal to be around, the closest thing he’d had to a friend all his life. Friends helped their friends when they were in need, right?

“Shouldn’t you ask your dads first or something? I don’t want to impose and basically take up your family’s guest room without them having some kind of warning. That’d be pretty rude, right? Like, I know you’re rich but still, there’s a limit.” Of course, it helped that Hero regularly forgot he was royalty.

“Would you do the same for me if you had the means?” The viera pouted a little, like he’d been backed into a corner. “Exactly. Hero, I insist. Finish packing, I’m calling my travel agent to get you booked for my flight back to Garlemald tonight.”

“Fine, but only because I can’t afford to stay in a hotel for a whole month.” He grumbled but he couldn’t exactly turn Zenos down.

===============================================

“Announcing crown prince Zenos yae Galvus, and his guest, one Magpie Hikara.” Hero flinched when they announced his childhood name instead of the one he’d chosen for himself as an adult. Technically it was still his legal name, but Hero Shadeseer was his chosen name and it meant far more to him.

Zenos noticed the flinch and frowned at the steward, “Hero Shadeseer. Viera pick their own names upon reaching adulthood, he just hasn’t had the time to fill out the paperwork for it yet.”

“My apologies, my prince. Would you like me to have someone bring the paperwork to him?”

“I haven’t settled on it yet. I’m only twenty-four summers, many viera wait until they’ve finished college and started to get established in their careers to finalize their adult names.” He didn’t want Zenos to spend the whole month speaking for him, even if he appreciated someone advocating for him.

“Very well then, I will at least make sure the preference is noted to avoid the staff making cultural faux pas from here on.” The elezen left, making notes on a clipboard as he walked, leaving Zenos and Hero standing in the hall before the Emperor and his husband.

His ears drooped on instinct as the Emperor’s stern face and gold eyes seemed to look right through him, but his husband gave a warm smile and reached out to take his hand. “We’d heard Zenos made friends in college through the grapevine, but didn’t expect to meet one so soon! How was your flight, the servants took your bags already, yes? Come on, the dining room is this way. I know damn well you two didn’t get a proper meal in and you’re probably both tired from the trip. It’s, what, almost ten at night? A good meal and some sleep will do you both good.”

“Thank you sir? Your highness?” He looked up to Zenos for any indication of what to say or how to act, but Zenos was just boredly walking past him and following Varis to the dining room.

“Regula is fine, I promise. You know, for the son of a pair of high profile bodyguards, you’re rather awkward around royalty.” Hero inhaled sharply and let it out in a soft groan. Of course they already did a background check. Probably did it the moment he and Zenos were assigned to the same room.

“My parents did try to raise me with continuing the family business in mind, but I wasn’t cut out for the level of paranoia that comes with being a proper bodyguard. I was little more than a playmate for hire for some of the children of their clients. It got me a decent education, but I moved so much as a kid I didn’t really latch on to any one specific culture. I spent the longest in Ishgard but it isn’t exactly home either.”

“That’s why we chose you out of all the other potentials, we were hoping you’d give him the normalcy he craved. Zenos could have gone to school here and been treated like a proper prince the whole time, or at least gotten a private room off campus. He chose to live in the dorms like any other student.”

Hero wondered if they knew Zenos and him had spent the first two weeks bickering, fighting, and almost at each other’s throats until they realized they shared several hobbies and interests. Zenos had been a stuck up prick the first few weeks of the semester and Hero liked causing problems on purpose. Eventually he introduced Zenos to one of his old childhood playmates, Asahi, who was also going to school to get the fuck away from his high profile ambassador parents. The two hit it off and things started to fall into a comfortable pattern for the three of them.

“It was an adjustment, but Zenos is a pretty quiet person. I had to prod him into joining a club or two that weren’t sports clubs, but all in all I’ve grown kinda fond of him? He’s a good guy.” When he’s not being stand-offish because he’s run out of social battery, or when he’s not your opponent in anything where he’s suddenly a bloodthirsty competitive asshole. Hero had regrets about introducing Zenos to handheld console gaming, and more regrets about introducing him to fighting games.

“All the same, thank you for helping him. He’ll likely never say it, but that’s probably why he invited you to stay with us.” Hero hadn’t considered that he’d done anything Zenos would want to thank him for. He spent the whole night realizing that the invitation was Zenos feeling grateful for Hero’s friendship and company. The problem was figuring out how to keep it from coloring their current relationship, because the idea of having a friend so thankful for Hero just being himself that he’d go out of his way like this to help him in need was- he didn’t have a word for it.

So he rolled over in his plush comfy two sizes too big for a single person bed with ten times the pillows any normal person would need, and tried to fall asleep. Zenos was royalty here so they couldn’t just walk around the city like they could wander campus, so tomorrow he’d find a way to pull Zenos aside after breakfast and maybe plan something they could do to make the month pass by quicker. If only to keep him from being buried under royal duties and obligations, to give him a taste of normalcy in his own home.

================================================

 It felt strange being woken by a servant, to be guided to the bath and see it drawn and already warm for him. Stranger still to have someone bring him his clothes freshly pressed, to do his hair for him, and guide him down the winding stairs to the dining room for breakfast with the family. He felt out of place before the massive regal Varis and the mildly detached Regula. Varis was reading the paper, every so often glancing up at the Viera before him and frowning. Regula was tapping away at his tomephone, humming softly to himself between asking Varis questions about the day’s plans. It felt cold and awkward and uncomfortable.

 Zenos’ absence didn’t help.

When the prince finally joined them and pulled up his chair, Varis flipped through the paper again, folded it in half, and slid it over the table to his son. “You may want to plan around the paparazzi for the rest of your break. I don’t doubt you’re used to the way news spreads in the Empire, but I doubt your guest is prepared.”

Zenos frowned and looked at the paper before scoffing and sliding it to Hero wordlessly.

In brilliant color were three separate photos. One of Zenos taking off his coat, one of his draping the coat over Hero’s shoulders, and one of Zenos holding open the door of the royal car while Hero got into the back seat. “Fuck.” The headline was about the prince bringing home a girlfriend from college. Fair enough, it was dark out and snowing when they got out of the airport and Hero was notably androgynous. Still, it invoked a primal fear response in him. “We aren’t- I’m not- How do I correct them?”

Regula paused and gave Hero a sympathetic look, “you don’t, sadly. It’s gossip right now, are you two sure you’re not dating? Obviously we wouldn’t judge, Zenos is allowed to see whoever makes him happy.”

Zenos shook his head slightly before reaching for the jam to coat his toast in it. “We are roommates, as I told you. Hero’s helped me out of my comfort zone and dragged me into a few more social situations than I would have gotten into on my own, but we aren’t courting.”

Hero’s eyes darted between Zenos and Regula, then Zenos and Varis, and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Hero?”

Zenos wasn’t fast enough to silence him, “I’d never flirt with him behind Asahi’s back.” He heard Zenos inhale sharply beside him, but continued anyway. “Asahi’s room is attached to ours by the half-bath. They’ve been seeing each other since around midterms. I’m just his roommate I swear.”

“Useless.” Hero knew that tone of suffering in Zenos’ voice, “yes I am courting the son of the Doman Ambassadors. I didn’t think he’d be my type, but he surprised me, and we started out studying together. He helps me with my humanities courses, and I’ve been helping him with calculus. He listens to me in a way I’m not used to, it isn’t about my station with him. If he just wanted upwards mobility he wouldn’t be half as- I suppose- open with me about things.”

Hero hummed a bit, “I promise you, he’s being honest. I’m a bad liar but I’m really good at sniffing out lies. Asahi is head over heels for Zenos and they make such a cute couple. I’d never dream of breaking them up. Twelve fuck me, if he sees this article he’s going to be so upset…”

Varis finally relaxed his shoulders and sighed, “I see. Thank you both for being honest with us, Hero, I’ll make sure I assign someone to help you navigate how to handle the news and media crews that might try to bully things out of you since you clearly have no training for dealing with it. Zenos, if you’d like to give your boyfriend a warning that the rumor mill is spinning around you bringing a friend home from college? I suggest you do it before the news cycle starts spinning things out of control. Don’t worry too much boys, we’ll handle it. Just lay low for a few days until it peters out, alright?”

“Of course, Father. I suppose I’ll take Hero on a tour of the Palace Grounds today then, and we’ll plan to tour the city when you’ve handled the paparazzi.” Zenos’ plate was full of meats, breads and sweets. Compared to Hero’s own plate of mostly fruits, cheeses, and some meat and bread. Breakfast was a rather large affair for the family, or maybe this was just how royalty lived?

Either way he carefully handed the paper back over to Regula so the older man could hand it off to his husband. All he could do now was pray the rest of his trip went smoothly after this small hiccup.

[king-orion]

Help Them!

As previously mentioned, a friend of mine and his sister were currently homeless and staying in a motel. While both of them were working, the hotel’s prices were going up and they were struggling to stay afloat. To make matters worth, they’ve now caught COVID. And are taking time off work that they can’t afford to take! If we can’t find them help, they’re going to end up on the street again and lose their jobs.  Their family refuses to help because the older brother is gay and the family accused him of manipulating his younger sister into being trans. Suffice to say their older brother literally pulled a gun on them in the past for defending themselves. Please, Tumblr, do your stuff and help boost this! https://gofund.me/acd12b17

[atlanticcanada]

Some N.S. 'shelter hotel' residents no longer qualify if they make more than $1,200/month

A non-profit which administers the province’s Shelter Diversion Program has tightened eligibility requirements for the program.

Last month, Adsum for Women and Children provided a letter to its clients, advising of the change, which means the program will now only be available to Nova Scotians, "Who have a history of chronic homelessness and earn less than $1,200 a month, not including the GST or Child Tax Benefit..." A photo of the letter was sent to CTV News.

One shelter hotel resident, who did not want to be identified, heard the letter had been given to certain clients.

“It’s unreal,” the resident says. “These people are homeless, and now you’re kicking them out and making the situation worse for them. They’re going from a hotel room to a tent now.”

In Halifax alone, several hundred people live in hotels, funded by the province.

According to Nova Scotia’s Department of Community Services, the province spent $5.6 million for clients to live in hotels from April to December 2022.

The executive director of Adsum for Women and Children, Sheri Lecker, declined an interview with CTV News, but did provide explanation in an email.

She says the change affected ten households living in shelter hotels, some of which have been “housed or supported elsewhere by other programs, or are self-funding.”

But, she continues, “Resources are not infinite ... the decision of who to prioritize for support is not something that we take lightly."

"As each month passes, this program only sees a handful of households signing leases ... with the availability of hotel rooms decreasing as summer business picks up, and the pressures of increasing requests, we have to apply criteria."

Karla MacFarlane. Nova Scotia’s minister of community services also wouldn’t do an interview on the criteria change.

Instead, department spokesperson Christina Deveau wrote in a statement, “Criteria for the Shelter Diversion Support program are set by Service Providers, and those who are most in need have always been prioritized. Any criteria are reviewed based on current emerging pressures.”

Meanwhile, opposition politicians say the change is a sign of a situation that is only getting worse.

“In today's environment, people can't live off of $1,200,” says Zach Churchill, Nova Scotia Liberal leader.

“We really need to see the province step up, provide more funding to Adsum House so they can actually give the support to these people that we know they want to give them.”

He says the income criteria is among several issues affecting the most vulnerable in Nova scotia, noting that the Houston government has frozen income assistance two years in a row.

“They've also changed our rent supplement program, so unless you're paying 50 per cent of your income for your rent you're not eligible for that anymore,” said Churchill.

“Now this is another blow for people making over $1,200 a month.”

The provincial NDP says housing measures government has taken so far aren’t enough.

“The housing crisis is reaching a really terrible point,” says leader Claudia Chender. “Nova Scotians from all walks of life are really struggling to find a home they can afford, and what we mostly see are cranes in the sky that are going to create units that are simply not affordable.”

Both Chender and Churchill say the Tory government needs to quickly create more “non-market” housing such as public and co-operative housing.

Wednesday, the province did announce it’s handing over 0.7 hectares of provincially owned land to create a co-operative housing development in New Minas, N.S. with 24 units renting at or below 80 per cent of the average market rate.

The project aims to break ground early in 2024.

For the latest Nova Scotia news, visit our dedicated provincial page.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/E35eWCn

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Prompt Event: Risotto and Bucciarati with 115 and 116 (SFW)

You can’t believe that after all of this, you’d be turned away. Does your family really think so little of you? To take you for some run-away even after weeks of disappearance?

You didn’t plan for what to do if this happened. There’s no way you’re going back to them and the only money you brought was for the transport here. You can’t even afford a single night’s stay at a cheap hotel, or even a bit of food to fuel you through the night. You’re well and truly destitute.

What are you even walking around for? There’s nowhere for you to go. If Bruno and Risotto show up they’ll probably comb the area after realising you aren’t at your family home, so getting out of sight really ought to be your first priority.

Where could you even go? Homeless shelters are out of the running as they’re too obvious, as are whatever friends might actually be kind enough to take you in. After all, between your two captors you’ve got a mafia capo and his trained assassin, so if anyone has the skills to scour all your possible contacts, it’s them. Thinking your options through, your best bet is probably the park. Damn. You’ve only been away from this neighbourhood a few weeks and already you’re starting to forget where everything is.

You hear a car engine louden behind you. No, no need to panic. It’s probably just a local. Almost certainly.

The car pulls to a stop and you suddenly trip over your feet. Looking down with a surge of fear, you see the iron chain welding you to the pavement. Oh no. Oh please no.

“There you are, Tesoro,” Bruno’s voice rings through the night. “You gave us quite the scare,” he says, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Risotto demands, getting out the other side. “Have you any idea how dangerous the stunt you just pulled was?”

“There’ll be time for this conversation later, Risotto. First, could you please remove that chain? I’m going to get them into the car,” Bruno announces. The chain around your ankle falls free and Bruno immediately lifts you into his arms. You start to sob. After all this, running away, being rejected by your family, you’re right back in their arms. All for nothing.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!” you scream, lashing out against Bruno with all your might.

“Calm down,” Risotto tells you firmly. “We aren’t going to hurt you, we just need you home with us.”

“I’M NOT GOING HOME WITH YOU AGAIN!” you maintain. You bite down on Bruno’s arm and he yelps. The next thing you feel is Risotto’s big hands on your shoulders, followed by a car seat against your face.

“Don’t,” he warns you. You go still, though you continue to sob hysterics.

“Why are you crying?” Bruno asks softly. “You knew this would happen, I told you this would happen if you ever tried to leave him.”

“You knew that no matter what, we would always come and find you,” Risotto appends him. “I’d like to go now, Bruno, if that’s possible.” He gets into the front seat and looks at you softly. “I can’t relax until I know they are safely inside our home.”

“Quite,” Bruno agrees. He climbs into the driver’s seat and begins to drive away.

Resigned to your fate as you continue to sob, you pull yourself up pathetically and do your seatbelt, head hung in shame. Looking through the rear mirror, Risotto gives you a silent nod. “Good job for accepting this,” his eyes convey. You hope they won’t be mad for too long.

::::::::::::

You’ve been in the car for an hour, or so the clock says. Neither have spoken to you much, though Bruno did hand you a bottle of water and a few squares of chocolate about 20 minutes ago. You thanked him weakly for it.

A glance into the mirror and you see they’re both looking at you. You feel like you want to shrink away.

“Darling, we have to talk about what you did. There’s no escaping that,” Bruno begins.

“What I want to know is why you weren’t with your family. Why were you just out on the streets?” Risotto presses you.

“It wasn’t my choice,” you sheepishly admit. “I tried to go to them, but they turned me away.”

“What? Why?!” Bruno gasps. Risotto goes tense.

“They thought I had run away from them and were angry. They said I’d made my decision and shouldn’t bother coming back,” you explain.

“Bastards,” Risotto says through gritted teeth.

“Why do they insist on hurting you?” Bruno asks, leaning back to grab your hand. “You know we hate seeing you in pain. Let us take you away from it all,” he offers.

“I hope I speak for both of us when I say we’re sorry, (y/n),” Risotto intercedes. “Had we known about the shock you had just suffered, we would have showed you more sympathy. But I hope you realise now that we have only your best interests at heart.”

“Yeah.” you sob.

“How about when we get home, you sleep in our bed again? You liked that last time right?” Bruno offers. “Then you won’t have to doubt for a second how loved you are.”

“Mm, that sounds nice,” you admit. Risotto reaches back to rub your palm. You feel safe. You’re glad they found you.

[abittersweetsongforyou]

wtfock fic recs part 1

okay so some points

im sorry about the spacing but i cant be bothered to fix it, im sorry if i missed anything and i hope this was helpful

the classics (v popular, many kudos)

I Didn't Want To Share My Boyfriend Anymore by teen_content_queen So He's Happy by Masterless rescue my heart by themoongirl go and hold that lightning by themoongirl i've learned to lose you (can't afford to) by petitepeach and my love life waits by petitepeach Truth by MsAshlyjudd8 Carry You by clarecas Are You Jealous Or Are You Sulking? by teen_content_queen Sick Day by teen_content_queen can i try again? by lamourestout Floating in a most peculiar way by skamsnake rotten work by aholynight run and score by aurorawinds

Unattainable by sincerelysobbe

canon divergence/missing scenes/fix-its

woensdag 21:21 (redux) by eliottamoureux - the post first kiss that sander deserved living life and loving boys by TheGlassesPredicament - post hate crime, milan and our boys :( but :) all we can do is keep breathing by aletterinthenameofsanity - sander is homeless explanation Bringing A Boy Home by ForeverInIdle - Sander takes Robbe to meet his mother watch myself watchin' you by vitane - robbes crush on sander developing during the beach trip hey wolf, there's lions in here (hey wold, just see there's no fear) by tokyometropolis(mesohorany) - sanders perspective of ohn Rebel Rebel by skamsnake - sanders perspective on trying to get robbe to fall in love with him on the beach trip In which Sander and Robbe emigrate from Robbe's bedroom by orphan_account zaterdag 22:02 by wasteourdaysdreaming - sander wants to be with robbe diminuendo by noobishere - sander at the flatshare after robbe leaves for his exam and I know what you're feeling ('cause I feel it as well) by nothingbutniall - kissing in the tunnel a warning sign by themoongirl - sanders perspective after he ran out of the hotel reunited by themoongirl - reimagined ohn you don't even know who i am by lamourestout - robbe and sander getting to know each other take these broken wings and learn to fly by ladypeaceful - the hate crime gonna build you up (gonna help you believe, honey) by ladypeaceful - robbe takes sander to meet his mama

the broers

being assholes fucking asshole. by richietrashmouthtozier - jens is a dick and robbe is tired and sad The Familiar, Foreign, or Both by TOZ1ER - robbe grew apart from the broers by then he runs into them in the supermarket oké, so? by severegas4 - moyo is a dick being mostly good friends jahsdaj by the way by TheGlassesPredicament - robbe has been dating sander and is tired of hiding it Now I'm In It by cicelsticks - sander on a broers holiday, there's only one bed, and pining Low Volume by clubstocrews23 - sander is down but robbe is there for him a teenage manual on breathing by merengue - robbe comes out to jens, this one is seriously so good Fun Get Away by Masterless - jens doesnt like sander but he's a good friend

wtFOCK - Moyo season 4 by Createdforyou - screenplay style moyo season 4 written by some lovely people and very well done, even if screenplay isn't your thing i highly suggest trying it

romcom type aus that make my heart all fuzzy

Croissants by bruisingknees - sander works at a bakery, robbe is a customer, flirting ensues its an unrequited love by eggsntoast - sander works at a museum and robbe keeps visiting The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove - two boys meet in a meadow Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces - barista!sander and barista!eliott we love to see it

My hand around the base of your holy neck by allforyoumylove - friends with benefits and we all know how that turns out

Come closer I'll give you all my love by Createdforyou - fake dating au babyyy

Christmas Dreams by Createdforyou - they're coworkers and its christmas! tell me that doesnt scream romcom

careless in its choosing by noobishere - they meet in a club its very cute

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind by nbrook - friends to lovers and its christmas and robbes boyfriend sucks

just friends by sincerelysobbe - friends with benefits with much pining

But darling, love is passing by by Createdforyou - barista!sander i mean who doesnt love barista!sander and strangers to friends to lovers

fun and funky aus that just hit

Let's Dance by msleviss- Sander is a DJ we love to see it our camp of dreams by aurorawinds - a summer camp au Falling For You by silver_etoile - soccer au babyyyyy Seek Only Love by iwritetropesnottragedies(recklesslee) - Sander goes to Robbe's highschool Jij Verliest by sincerelysobbe - robbe is a streamer and he deserves a nice boyfriend aka sander the blood of both is my limbo by tokyometropolis(mesohorany) - robbe is an angel and sander is a demon its fucking awesome i'm slowly falling away. by fockinglevendcliche - enemies to lovers paint me in trust by themoongirl - vampire!sander that's all u need to know Pizza Time by Quirlequast - robbe cant tell if pizza deliveryboy sander is flirting with him we don't gotta be discreet by noobishere - robbe and sander fake date but theyre actually really dating, aaron is just an idiot

flower moon by cicelsticks - hogwarts au v cute

love me while your wrists are bound by alsjeblieft - siren!sander is fucking awesome this one also has under 100 kudos and thats just wrong

masterpiece by sincerelysobbe - soulmate au babyyyy

For Real by peaceoutofthepieces - fake dating at christmas time what could be better

everything all at once by whalefairyfandom - robbe is a barista and sander is his coworker britts 'asshole' ex-boyfriend

love potion no.9 by thekardemomme - hogwarts au and its amortentia day

the blind date bomb by thekardemomme - robbe and sander on a blind date and it goes very well

I See You When You Run From The Light (within your eyes) by womenstan - sander is blind and robbe is an idiot but itll be okay eventually bsadhajshd

carry me through this sleeping city by aurorawinds - imo this is some of aurorawinds best work, they're neighbours and coworkers and v cute

the sports we play by dottori - this one was very fun and cute although i only vaguely know of the foxhole court it was still very enjoyable so even if you dont know the reference read it anyway

makes me feel things i cant explain

vrijdag 21:37 by wasteourdaysdreaming - the same party from told from different perspectives (one of my all time fucking favourites fr) to build a home by aguamarina - sander has a sister and she's the sweetest thing

you know i'm always at your shoulder (take your heart out of its holster) by wafflesofdoom - this is unfinished but so so worth the read anyway especially because the chapters kind of function as one-shots

hop in the corolla by noobishere - god this fic is everything to me like them on a trip together, in love, happy, being young, fuck its so wonderful

A New Sunday Feeling by foxsake5 - they're in love and horny and v sweet

Fizzy Colas by foxsake5 - its boys night out but robbe and sander are in love

in this universe by dottori - fluff fluff fluff my little heart

Suns Set Before They Rise by writingbuzz - boyfriends waking up together

lovers never lose by dottori - this has to be one of my all time favourites, perfectly cheesy i love it sm

Taking pictures of you as the light came through by allforyoumylove - this one is steamy so be warned but so tender and sweet

My hand around the base of your holy neck by allforyoumylove - friends with benefits but they're in love and its beautiful

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell - wow i mean wow, they both have issues and they're still learning and trying and they love each other even though they're sad and a bit broken.

Always mine, always yours by allforyoumylove - they go to a wedding and get engaged and its romantic as fuck and im crying

one through seven by dottori - robbe and sander are in love

[fishytrouble1]

Sidemen Mafia - Part 1: Meeting Ethan

BehzingaxReader

You were running, running for survival. You knew if you stopped that THEY would catch up and that was something you just couldn’t let happen. You couldn’t risk going back to THEM, and their way of living. You were unsure just how far behind they were but you kept facing forward and kept going.

You were running what felt like days but was only a few mere hours. You started walking when you reached a quiet looking town. You strolled down the street with just the bag of clothes and valuables on your back. When you thought about it you realised just how sad it looked that all your belongings could fit into such a small bag.

You were looking for somewhere where you could lay low for a few hours and rest but you saw the lights on in what looked like a café. You searched your pockets for any type of cash. You were lucky to find a £5 note in your back pocket, you hoped it would be enough for at least a sandwich.

Because it was late at night, you knew it would be quiet but you only saw three other people in the Café. one was a couple clearly finishing up a date night and one was a brooding man in the corner. You wouldn’t have noticed him if it wasn’t for how observant you trained yourself to be.

Luckily none of them paid any attention to you as you made your way to the counter. A middle-aged looking woman made her way to you with a bright smile on her face. You felt comfortable in her presence, for the first time a woman made you feel welcomed.

“Hi Sweetie, what can I get for you?” She asks.

You place your five pound note onto the counter as you ask, “Is there anything I can get with this? Unfortunately it’s all I have on me, and I was hoping I could get just a drink or something.”

“Well, you’re in luck, I can get you a chicken salad sub and a small coke.” The woman replies.

“That sounds amazing, thank you.” 

As she’s preparing everything she starts up a conversation, you also notice that she eyed your bag, probably trying to figure out what sort of situation you were in.

“My name’s Ruth by the way. I hope you don’t mind my asking but you seem to have only a small bag on you and you look a little lost. Is everything okay?”

You smile, appreciating how forward she is but also thinking about how to answer. You felt as if you could be somewhat truthful with this woman, “Yeah, well I don’t have much stuff to call my own and when I decided to leave home I didn’t think much about where I was going. Also I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Can I ask why you left your home?” Ruth asks.

“You can but I’m not quite sure whether I’m ready to talk about it yet. Let’s just say it wasn’t the easiest of places to live. Unfortunately though I’ve now made myself a homeless 22 -year-old girl.”

“Oh Sweetie. Everything will be okay. You know my son owns a hotel not to far from here, I can get you a room for a couple of nights if you want.” Ruth offers as she hands you a sandwich and a drink.

“Oh no I couldn’t afford that and I wouldn’t want to put you into an awkward position with your son.” You take a bite of the sandwich as she considers your words.

“You wouldn’t be causing any problems between me and my mother. I’ve been watching and listening to you since you came in and I wouldn’t mind letting you stay in my hotel for a few nights, free of charge.” You jump at the voice from behind you, You turn around to come face to face with the man from the corner.

You were shocked that you hadn’t noticed how sexy he looked when you first spotted him, but you supposed it was down to the fact he was hiding in the shadows just about. You pull yourself out of your trance and answer him.

“Look, whatever your name is..”

“It’s Ethan”, he interrupts.

“Look, Ethan. It’s a very kind offer but I’m afraid even if I wanted to I couldn’t. I’d be putting you and your mother in danger and I can’t have that on my conscious. Thank you both for your kindness and hospitality but I just can’t except anymore of your help.” You say.

You start to finish your sandwich, as he sits next to you whilst staring at you. 

“You know it’s considered rude to stare at someone, especially whilst they’re eating.” You comment causing him to smirk.

“You know you’re the first girl to turn down any offer I’ve given to them. Albeit theirs was a little more...more. But still, you intrigue me.” He looks at you as if he’s trying to figure you out.

You just finish your meal and stand up, grabbing your bag in the process. You turn back to Ruth.

“Ruth, thanks again for being so caring. And, Ethan thanks for trying to help but it’s best if I try and make it own my own. Hopefully, I’ll see you guys again. Bye.” You turn and walk out of the café.

An hour later you were still walking for somewhere just to hide for the night, You eventually find an alley with a little hidden cubby in it and choose to stay there for the night.

Although what you didn’t know was that you would later come to regret this choice. 

END

Part 2

[ccohanlon]

another interview with c.c. o’hanlon

[In 2008, an Australian artist who used to be a close friend — we fell out several years ago and now no longer acknowledge each other — interviewed me for an obscure, now defunct online journal, Hobo Eye, to accompany their publication of passages from one of my notebooks.] 

“This photographer is a realist in the documentary tradition. He sees, he understands, he interprets. He knows that words in a picture add dimension to the image…”

The late, legendary, American photojournalist, Arthur Rothstein, wrote this about C.C. O’Hanlon’s photography when O’Hanlon was 28 years old.

C.C. O’Hanlon was well-known (or was it notorious?) for a while in the late ‘90s as the founder of Australia’s first and, for a time, most successful web marketing company. Maybe that’s why, despite having published several hundred essays, diary excerpts and short stories, and exhibited a diverse portfolio of photography in half a dozen group and solo shows, he looks uncomfortable when anyone refers to him as an artist.

“I don’t have the technical skills or the imaginative capacity,” he says, dismissively.

Born into privilege, the son of a best-selling Australian novelist, O’Hanlon has travelled the world since birth, moving restlessly not just through different cities and countries but entirely different lives. He documents this haphazardly, unreliably, in words and pictures.  What emerges, if and when it does emerge, is a sort of poetry which features an obsessive/compulsive attention to unusual detail — his language around the weather is notable — usually associated with outsider artists.

His chaotic, peripatetic life is his real work of art. O’Hanlon’s personal narrative has been punctuated by episodes of bi-polar disorder — and just plain disorder — marked by indiscipline, excess, hubris and wanton destructiveness. In recent years, he has been, by his own description, “a misanthropic recluse”, indulging a self-negating inclination to get lost even to close friends. He strays far, living for years at a time in places like Brighton, England, or Hiroshima, Japan, or Tulsa, Oklahoma, or the shores of the South China Sea (where, it turns out, he is now).

When he returns, excerpts from diaries and voyeuristic black and white photographs circulate among his acqquaintances. In many respects – not least, his travels, the duality of his life, and the diversity of his social connections – he is like a grimmer, less sociable Peter Beard.

You’re thought of as an outsider but you’ve successfully infiltrated the mainstream several times. And yet you don’t appear to be motivated by fame, money or even acceptance.

Oh I wouldn’t exclude fame, money and the love of beautiful women — Freud was right about all these being the real motivation of a creative mind. Just before the nineties’ dot.bomb, I headed a publicly listed web company and I was almost entirely consumed by a lust for money and a very shallow kind of celebrity. Then I underwent this radical epiphany and after I’d gotten over the soul-shredding mind-fuck of it, I had to rethink nearly everything in my life, to find another way not only of working but of being.

You’ve spent a lot of your life since childhood living in hotels, as documented in your photographic series, Hotels Are My Real Home. You don’t do it as much anymore...

I don’t have as much money as I used to so I can’t afford it. I would still much rather live in a hotel than a conventional apartment or house. But right now, I want to live on a boat, which is not only compact and comfortable but also mobile. A good shore-bound alternative would be an Airstream trailer (but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as environmentally friendly. Plus, I can’t drive.)

Hotels are the antithesis of the self-sufficient, independent style of life I want to live now. They’re like serviced wombs for adults.

You’ve lived large and extravagantly sometimes. What drew you to a minimal, nomadic life?

An emotional need for simplicity. Then recurring episodes of homelessness. I figured that if I could strip back the requirements of my daily life, if I could limit my need to consume for consumption’s sake, I might be open to more vitalising opportunities. Minimal isn’t new for me. I’ve traveled my whole life. Such an existence necessitates paring things down, living light, and being practical in the choices of what (and who) travels with you.

Simplicity doesn’t exclude fun and self-indulgence — I’m still a big fan of them.

You’re a hard man to actually locate. I have maybe four phone numbers (all in different countries) and about the same number of email addresses. Where are you now?

A boatyard in the jungle inland from Jomtien, just south of Pattaya, in Thailand.

What are you doing there?

I’m thinking of building a 38-foot double canoe or catamaran inspired by traditional Polynesian voyaging canoes.

What inspired this?

It’s hard to locate a particular…thing.

I’ve always had a close relationship with the sea and boats – I sailed a dinghy by myself at age eight and I have spent long periods at sea at different times of my life. However, increasingly, lately, living on a boat feels like the best  means of escaping some of the less palatable aspects of urban life, particularly in the developed world.

I came across some interesting ideas about sea-bound communities written by a pioneer of multihull sailing in England, a guy called James Wharram, and it led me to his designs. I decided to build one and try out some ideas of my own.

You used to be thought of  in Australia as a provocative thinker on future technologies …

“Used to be” is the operative phrase. That was back in the late ‘90s. A long time ago.

Yet you now almost completely reject technology. You don’t even own a cell phone…

Actually, I do.

You never turn it on.

That’s true.

Have you lost faith with what you once referred to as the “millennial religion of network technology”?

I think the context of that line was the almost evangelical righteousness I saw in many technologists, and their sense of infallibility: I mean, just because they could do something, they never questioned — still don’t — whether they should. As a result, networked technologies are beginning to erode some of the elemental fabric not only of social environments — where it enables increased surveillance, breaches of traditional privacy and data-mining by governments and corporations — but also of cultures. There is an increasingly dense and impenetrable cloud of data acquisition that hangs over our lives like a shroud and yet very few, relatively, even recognize its threat.

I still engage with technology. I just refuse to fetishize it or to rely on it. I discourage others from relying on it too. At sea, I avoid it almost completely.

You’ve been a qualified navigator for 32 years.

Yeah. Old school. Paper charts, compass, sextant, clock.

You appear to approach your observations of culture and society like a navigator – a lot of painstaking plotting of history, anthropology, geography and even archaeology.

In learning navigation, you’re always reminded that there are only two things that are important: where you are now and where you’re trying to get to.  The former is elemental to resolving the latter. However, to figure out where you are now, you have to be able to plot a track from where you estimate you last were, taking into account all sorts of variables, none of them precisely measurable, that might have driven you from your intended course.

Pretty much like life, individually and collectively.

You were the founder and CEO of what was, for a time, one of Australia’s first and most successful web advertising companies …

A very short time, before I completely fucked it up [laughs].

But you describe yourself as a Luddite at heart. Do you think it’s possible – or even practical – to try to reverse engineer society’s acceptance of computer technology in order to regain some simplicity…

…and privacy and intimacy and unsynthesized, unappropriated creativity. No, I don’t think so. However, I think you can redefine the role it plays in an individual life, hopefully as a part of a broader re-design of one’s personal approach to living.

I remember this passage from an essay you wrote for the Australian news magazine, The Bulletin, in 2003:

“A few years ago, at the height of the dotcom boom, when technology was almost a cultural fetish and we couldn't wait for everything to be what we called instant-on, instantly accessible from everywhere, all the time, a fashion magazine included me in a group of people from different occupations — fashion, architecture, interior design, entertainment, technology — to offer ideas about what would define luxury in the ultimate 21st-century lifestyle.

“My contribution was simple: a windowless, padded room in the middle of your home or office, densely insulated from sound and microwaves, noiselessly ventilated, which would have no furniture other than maybe a few white pillows. The walls would be colourless, opaque. There would be no decoration, no phone, no television, no stereo, no computer, not even an architectural feature to arrest the attention. When the light was switched off, the darkness would be absolute.

“And that was it. An empty, soundless room.”

So, do you really think that more people will desire slower-paced, noiseless, disconnected lives?

Jesus, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone see the isolation and dehumanisation proposed in a pair of iPod ear buds?

I take it you don’t ‘do’ digital when it comes to your own creativity?

No. My cameras are old-fashioned, mechanical —I love film, despite it becoming an anachronism — and I write by hand in leather-bound notebooks. I use a computer for research and long-distance communication but that’s about all.

Why do you document your life?

In order to keep track.

Another thing you wrote:

“… the science fiction writer Philip K. Dick once argued that if two people dream the same dream, it isn’t a dream anymore – it signifies the existence of an alternative reality ... The insane always occupy multiple realities: their internal narratives are always different to their actual or external experiences. For me, that can be complicated by the fact that, when I was unmedicated, which was for most of my 49 years, the character I adopted for one experience was very different to another that I adopted for a different experience somewhere else. The process was so compulsive that I would, for extended periods, devise a complex network of different characters and different lives in different parts of the world, with different relationships, then live intermittently in and between them, while blending them all into a fluid mutability that had the parallel narratives and multi-tiered options of a computer game. And the game engine was an invisible “real” me, solitary, sentient and more than a little crazy.

These days, medication gives me the possibility of sustained reason, of a reliable perception of the present. But the same cannot be said of what I remember, so I am disenfranchised from my past, condemned to roam in search of a future.”

When did you begin?

With the madness, the medication or documenting myself? [laughs] As far as taking pictures is concerned, I guess when I was about 10. I wrote simple diaries and took snapshots on an old Kodak Box Brownie.  I became more dedicated when I was in my late teens.

The medication came much later. Probably too late, truth be told.

You weren’t very interested in exhibiting your work until other people almost begged you to.

I’m still not. I’m not making art. As I’ve said, I’m creating and archiving information about my own life, to keep track of where I am, who I am, and why, and who with. This information is, in some respects, elemental to a map of my self, from which I can figure out who I am and where (and why) I am going.

A lot of your work contains words – whether it’s a sentence from your journal scrawled on the print or text in the image itself: graffiti, signage, brands and so on. Why is this?

It’s not a conscious thing. I suppose I subscribe to Samuel Beckett’s view: “Words are all we have”. I tend to edit myself compulsively.

Most artists try to explain their work. You don’t, in anyway.

Because it’s not intended as ‘work’. Besides, I’m not looking to make any excuses for it – or myself – or anything else I do. Not anymore.

First published in Hobo Eye, USA, 2008.

[a-snek-in-a-hat]

A POEM ABOUT THE CULTURE OF THE LUPOS EMPIRE- written May 9th 2021

The entertainment of the Lupos Empire

For enjoyment good taste does require

There’s music

Fit for everyone

Any instrument is available to play, if you so choose it.

But the theremin is the national instrument, and extremely fun.

It’s played at

Ceremonies

Whether sing or scat

Whether it’s warm or sunny

The Luposians love their tunes

And a lot of the songs are as deep as lagoons

The art is called Lupism

It’s a combination of abstract art and pointillism

There dance and comedy and literature as well,

We won’t go into detail, but to put it bluntly, it’s swell!

State schooling goes up to grade 12

Into the curriculum let’s delve

School starts at 8:30

And ends at 3:30

With both academics and sports

Our school system unhealthiness thwarts.

Exams give equal importance to

Both areas of studies, and no pressure, they’re just like a review

After school you can enlist

For two years the army you can assist

Sustainability is our goal

So down the renewable energy route we will go.

Water pollution will not be tolerated

If we catch you doing it, from your bank account 1000 lupin will be obliterated

Let’s start with the parliamentary building

The defense systems are fulfilling

With loads and loads and loads of missiles

No life-loving crook would dare go within a mile

Decorations and rooms of entertainment galore

Just wait till you see what else we have in store!

With offices and a medical room

Games and break rooms and a movie theatre

There is no time for gloom

We’ve found fun in every feature!

The diplomatic buildings

Reside in each state

Relations with other countries assisting

The biggest one is in the capital state.

The Great Monument of Lupos

Was gifted by Caligula

Emperor Lupos’ tomb is seen by all who the street it’s on cross

This one is the citizen’s favourite monument in particular.

The average low price house is for those

Who can’t afford too much

Of shelves it has rows

And a rather large cupboard for all your fancy smuck.

With bedrooms two

A kitchen, and a living room

It’s comfortable, true

And good for around three people, we would assume.

There’s a free house for

The homeless and underpaid.

But all the conditions must apply to you

Before the house for free is yours made.

You’ll need your legal docs

And proof that you’re underpaid or homeless

After that you’ll have a house on the block

And you’ll get an offer so that you’ll no longer be jobless.

The house of luxury

Is worthy of awe, in summary.

There are two floors

Both with two sets of stairs and flooring

There are four bedrooms

And three loos

A store room and two sets of shelves

A cupboard, a kitchen and a living room, this is fancier than a hotel

Now for the fashion

For style most people here have a passion

The military uniform is black

With a nylon-cotton blend

A paraglider made of a material that

To keep you hidden does tend

An infrared helmet and utility belt too,

This stealth suit to its purpose is true.

The regency outfit is for Emperor/Empress only,

It certainly is quite showy.

It draws inspiration from Castaspella

Anyone who wears it will look like a dapper fella

With the colours of the crest

Gold, brown, black, white and the rest

There’s leather pants

And drummer gloves

A metal collar and

A bejewelled headpiece, AHHH I love!

Black combat boots and an overhanging skirt

A brown belt with the crest on it

It really looks super sick

The parliamentary workers’ uniform

Draws inspo from

Nepalese fashion

To neutral shades it’s drawn

A cotton embroidered kurta,

With a white collar and belt

With this uniform style is certain

There’s a brown sash embroidered with the crest

Back to cotton

A pair of pantaloons

Go from brown to white, in this area this colour palette isn’t uncommon

Next, the judiciary uniform

Once again, brown shades, true to form

A brown puffer jacket

Of warmth in North India one should make a habit.

Black belt, black pants

A faux fur scarf

Whoever said the most fashionable country was France?

Doctor, scientists, engineers, lecturers and medical professionals

This uniform is more practical, not too adventurous

Ford Pines is the inspiration for this one

Like I said, this uniform isn’t too fun

A white lab coat with 80’s broad shoulders

A little belt with an essentials supplies holder

A grey turtleneck, gray track pants,

But of staying white this outfit probably doesn’t stand a chance.

Bankers, data scientists, mathematicians

Investment bankers, chartered accountants, management professionals

All share this uniform.

Golden embroidery on a purple fleece

Designed to be super comfy and put you at ease

Dark purple pants and grey loafers

These people aren’t jokers

The last thing on the list, a collared shirt

Nothing on this uniform should you hurt

Service providers wear a safety vest

So that to dying nobody should attest

A pink sweater and denim overalls

This outfit doesn’t violate any protocols

Miss Frizzle is a legendary teacher

So we drew inspiration from her

Yellow track pants

And a combo of an orange jumper and white shirt

Teachers certainly have a lot of on-the-job-style

For, like the teachers, Miss Frizzle’s dresses have doodles all over

Next the merchant/ navy jobs

Inspired by the legendary Sea Hawk

A blue and gold blazer, but the boots are where it’s at

There’s a white T-shirt and pants too, and no sailor’s hat

At last, we’re nearly done

The aviation/ bus driver uniform

Back with the neutral scheme

A pastel brown dress shirt

Inspo’s from Andy DeMayo and the pilot from the little prince

Add ons include a combat vest and aviator goggles that do not you face hurt

To complete the poem and the look

A gandhi cap, stockings and combat boots.

Now we’re done, we say goodbye

Oh, how does time fly.

[cowboyworf]

MENTALLY ILL QUEER INDIVIDUAL NEEDS HELP GETTING OUT OF A TOXIC SITUATION

I hate doing this and have been trying to avoid it, and honestly I don't know if this will even work, but I'm out of options.

I'm living with a very mean roommate, but he has become increasingly controlling and its starting to look like his behavior is going to continue getting worse (hopefully not to the point of physical violence, but s*xual violence has already happened on several occasions).

On top of it, I'm being stalked and harassed by someone- unsure of who, but it must be someone I'm close with. They hacked into my Snapchat and sent my nudes to everyone, including my family. They must know my address, because they're now leaving those photos on my doorstep and, as of yesterday, my neighbors' doorsteps too. They left threatening notes at my job before it closed down, are using multiple phone numbers to leave threatening voicemails/text messages, and have now began to pretend being me over the phone so that they can cancel my weekly therapy appointments. It's getting worse and I'm afraid to leave the house, but because of my ex, I'm afraid to be in the house too.

I have a plan to move in this summer to a place where I'm safe and no one can find me. However, my ex put me in unbelievable debt (we had a shared bank account for a very long time- please NEVER do this) and if I don't get out by the time my lease is up (July), I will never be able to afford to leave.

My family cannot help at all because, after my mother died, my dad lost half of his income. At this point, I don't know what to do and I would just be homeless again, but I can't do that to my cat.

I've added up all of my expenses for moving:

$300 for my cat to get a check-up, her vaccinations, and anxiety medicine for the trip

$220 for a pet hotel (I'm moving nearly 20 miles away and the person driving me does not want to drive that far without a break)

$100 for gas, food, and the fee for the person driving me (that's specifically what they asked for. I cannot drive due to disabilities, nor do I have car even if I did)

$600 to help with last month's rent here (I'm completely out of money and that's half of the full rent)

Anything extra would go to paying my phone bill for the trip, general moving costs, a bus pass so I can travel to possible jobs, etc.

Honestly, $1500 would be ideal, but literally anything will help.

If you are unable to help, please share if you can. If you want something for your money, I can send nudes (not excited about that, but I'm desperate).

Thank you to anyone who shares/donates.

My Venmo is @ shinjiguts

[too-gay-for-marvel]

no one ever fell in love gracefully

a/n: alright y’all, this one is much darker and definitely not everyone’s cup of tea. sometimes i like to mess around with very little dialogue, and this is the result. this one is honestly just for shits and giggles, so if you don’t like it, there probably won’t be a lot more like it, i just wanna see what happens

Word Count: 3519

Warnings: VERY DARK THEMES, allusions to self-harm, results of torture, human trafficking, character death (if you see something else that needs tagged please tell me)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Natasha

Bucky and Natasha were slow to trust and slower to love. If they hadn’t already known each other for decades beforehand, they probably wouldn’t have even ended up loving each other. They had just learned too many times that love was a weakness that they couldn’t afford to have, and they still struggled with it in their daily lives. Loving each other was their saving grace, but they couldn’t help thinking that if they loved someone else then they would just end up getting them hurt. Needless to say, this made them suspicious of everyone.

Even the young SHIELD doctor.

Especially the young SHIELD doctor.

They hadn’t wanted her to join them on their Russia mission. She wasn’t a soldier, she wasn’t really even an agent, she was just a doctor. And even that was being generous; she was more of a counselor than a medical doctor, even though she knew her way around an operating room. They had argued with Fury, something they normally didn’t do, but there was no way they were going on a dangerous mission with a non-agent.

And now they were in a run-down, sketchy hotel room with her, trying to pretend that they weren’t stressing out about all of it. There was no way they were going to let her know how nervous she made them, they had reputations, after all. But they couldn’t help but be suspicious of her as she offered cheap vodka and an innocent game of strip poker. As if there could ever be anything innocent about strip poker in the middle of a month-long mission.

They were two bottles of vodka in when they really started to get to the real meat of the game; Y/N lost another round and had to take off her sweater, a half-drunk smile on her face. Natasha and Bucky weren’t strangers to sex and threesomes, and they thought this might have stirred something in them since Y/N was attractive, but there was nothing sexy about Y/N pulling her sweater over her head.

Countless scars littered her forearms, some thick and angry, some so small they could only be seen in the light. Some were jagged and rough, others were smooth and purposeful. Some were fresh cuts, just starting to scab over, others looked inflamed and infected. They were cut off at the sleeves of her shirt, but some still continued, and it was obvious that they didn’t stop. As more and more articles of clothing were removed, more scars were revealed.

It wasn’t until Y/N took her actual shirt off - completely drunk at this point - that Bucky and Natasha saw the full extent. Angry red lines criss-crossed her back, thick and raised and painful looking. On her left shoulder blade was a brand, still dark and indented, looking suspiciously like one they had seen before. And when she turned around, another brand rested on her right hip, and they recognised it as the brand of a trafficking ring that they were trying to take down.

There was nothing sexy about this game of strip poker, but there was something strangely intimate in the unspoken things Y/N said with a broken smile on her face.

----------------------------------

Bucky fell first.

He fell slowly, not at all like he had for Nat. There were so many things that Bucky loved about Nat, but it was the little things about Y/N that really pushed him over into the feeling of love. It was the way she smiled when she greeted the agents in the mornings. The way she hid her face behind her hands when she reached a good part in her book, needing to take a step back to compose herself before she could continue. The way she was always the first to volunteer for jobs that were inconvenient or even just boring.

Or it was her unconstrained excitement when she saw a dog or a cat on the streets during a walk. The way she would run over to it and, if it had an owner, ask if she could pet them. If it was a stray, she would pet them and give them whatever food scraps she had before begging to keep it. The way she would never just pass by a homeless person, instead always trying to give them what little change she had and then offering to buy them a meal or some non-perishables and take them to a reliable shelter that she knew of.

It was the way she treated all of his friends. The way she would sign with Clint and try to talk him out of being so reckless, even though she was always the first one to patch him back up again when her talks didn’t work. The way she would urge Tony to come out of his lab for just long enough to get some sleep and a meal. The way she would tease Sam, but would ultimately end up being his counselor since he spent so much time trying to help other people that he never really focused on himself. The way she would steal Steve’s sweaters and try to teach him how to dance, laughing as she danced barefoot and the incredibly large sweatshirt swallowed her in the best way possible.

But what really did it was when Natasha was gone and he didn’t want to be alone. He could have asked Steve, of course he could have, but he was already asleep. It was by chance that he saw Y/N still awake, cleaning up their mess from the dinner she had made for all of them. Asking her to stay had been easier than he had thought; it helped that she guessed before he had even opened his mouth. She offered to stay watch for him, and he eagerly agreed before going back to sleep.

He woke up much later than usual, and he noticed that his alarm had been turned off. It was easy to guess who had done it, considering there was only one other person in the apartment, and he walked out of his room to question Y/N about it. But she was asleep in one of the chairs that had been moved to face both the apartment door and his room. Her knees were pulled up and her head was resting on her hand, her mouth open ever so slightly. One of his shirts hung off of her shoulder and he swore he had only ever seen something this beautiful when Natasha was around.

When Bucky fell, it happened like a cliche: slowly, and then all at once.

----------------------------------

Natasha fell hardest.

She had always prided herself on her ability to keep her heart safe, only ever letting a handful of people in that deep; James, Steve, Clint, Maria, Fury. Letting people in was dangerous, it would get herself and other people killed. Nothing good could come from loving people, and it had taken her long enough to get over that to let herself love James and to let him love her in return.

But she had seen James fall for Y/N, had listened to him talk about her. She could see his eyes light up when he told her about when they went for coffee, or when she snuck a dog into the tower before getting caught by Fury. It made her heart swell to see him so excited about something that was so mundane, because he deserved a bit of normalcy in his life. She knew she would never be able to give him a normal life, and she was glad he had found it in someone.

Surprisingly, there was no jealousy in Natasha’s thoughts or feelings. She was used to a lot of these things happening because she had been taught to get used to people and to accept when they had their own lives. But she trusted James, and she knew he had no nefarious intentions to telling her about Y/N. It was just a new part of his life that made him happy, and she knew he loved her and would never do anything to hurt her. So she was more than happy to try and understand what he saw in Y/N.

So she was determined to try and see what James saw. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Y/N; after their Russia mission where they had unknowingly learned more than they had bargained for, Natasha respected the doctor. She held more respect for Y/N than she did for herself, because Y/N had gone through all the pain she had and was still desperately trying to help people. Natasha was trying to erase the red from her ledger, yes, but Y/N hadn’t given up. Natasha wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t have given up if she had gone through the same thing.

The day starts with Natasha finding Y/N in a secluded room in the medbay, a young boy in the room with her. He looks a little worse for wear, and Natasha realises it’s because he’s the one they rescued from a trafficker. His hair is finally clean and he’s wearing real clothes, but they hang off his frame and make him seem smaller than he is. In truth, he’s actually only an inch or so smaller than Y/N.

They’re yelling at each other. Natasha can’t tell what they’re saying because she doesn’t know Romanian, but it doesn’t take much to see how angry they are. The boy keeps stepping closer and closer to Y/N, his face in hers, only a few centimetres of space between them. His face is red and he keeps jabbing a finger into her chest. On the other hand, Y/N is yelling back, her arms gesturing widely and occasionally running through her hair when she stops to take a second to breathe. They start yelling at each other again, windless, and finally Y/N yells back in English.

“Nobody rescued me!”

The boy stops mid-sentence, his eyes wide and his brows still drawn. But the anger seemed to dissipate, and instead he was left just staring into Y/N’s eyes like he was looking for a lifeline. Looking for anything he could grab onto to help pull him out of his anger and his pain and whatever else he was feeling. Natasha felt like she should leave, Y/N probably didn’t want anyone to know what had happened to her, but she couldn’t. She was stuck to the spot as Y/N started talking in Romanian again, her voice soft and oh so broken.

Tears fell freely down the boy’s eyes before he surged forward, his arms going around Y/N’s waist. He gripped the back of her shirt like she would disappear if he let go. There was shock on her face, only for a moment, before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tight, whispering into his ear. Natasha could feel her heart grow at the sight, but she knew it was a moment she shouldn’t be intruding on. It was the perfect time to leave, and she would go check on Y/N afterward.

When she did go to check on Y/N, it was late. James had gone out with Steve and Sam, probably just going to Coney Island or something like that, she didn’t really know. What she did know was that James wasn’t as sneaky as he pretended to be, and he was really just going out so she could spend some time with Y/N. She knew him better than that, but it still made her smile to think he thought he was being inconspicuous.

Natasha knocked on Y/N’s door, and while she didn’t expect Y/N to answer right away, she also didn’t expect to hear something shatter and a whispered “shit,” followed by a quick “just a minute!” There was a lot of rustling behind the door, and Natasha was starting to get worried. As much as she didn’t want to just barge in, she remembered the scabbed-over cuts on Y/N’s arms, and she felt her stomach fall at what Y/N could have been doing in there.

She stopped waiting for Y/N to answer the door and walked in, eyes darting around the whole apartment before she saw Y/N kneeling on the floor. A dish towel was laying on the floor in the middle of the remains of a shattered mug, pieces scattered around Y/N’s bare and bleeding feet. The pieces were digging into her knees and she was desperately struggling to pick up the pieces of the mug, all the while tears rolled down her cheeks and her shoulders shook.

Y/N didn’t look up from the mess, just shook her head and muttered apologies and excuses, and Natasha could almost literally feel her heart break in her chest. She didn’t make the decision to move forward, her body seemed to do it all on it’s own, almost like it was drawn to Y/N. And though she was the shorter of the two, Natasha gently spun Y/N around and held her tight, taking note of the way Y/N’s whole body sank, and Natasha pulled her into her lap so Y/N could rest her head in the crook of Natasha’s neck. She would have stayed like that forever if Y/N had only asked.

When Natasha fell, it happened fast, and it hit her like a bullet.

----------------------------------

Natasha and Bucky had prayed that life would treat them fairly for once in their life. They weren’t religious, but they were willing to be if it meant they got to win, just once. They would never ask for anything else ever again if they just got to keep her. If they just got to continue waking up to her soft features, her hands holding onto them like they would disappear in her sleep. If they could just keep her and the soft smile she reserved just for them.

As they got closer and closer to taking down a trafficking ring, they prayed harder. It was evident that Y/N wasn’t going to stand aside when these people were finally running scared, and she wasn’t going to let just anyone help the kids that they saved. And Y/N jumped at the opportunity to actually go with them once to bring some kids back safely, and they prayed she would be safe. As selfish as it was, they didn’t want Y/N to go because they didn’t like taking risks with her life.

Her hands were shaking when she tried to put her suit on, and Natasha and Bucky helped her finish suiting up. She smiled at them, her brown eyes wide and anxious. They wanted to say the words, wanted to tell her they loved her. Y/N had already said it once, twice if you consider that she said it to each of them individually, but they hadn’t been able to say it back. If they admitted that they loved her, then the world would take her away. But Y/N said it was okay because she knew they loved her, and they had held onto that for far too long.

The quinjet landed and by then it was too late. Everyone was already running off, heading to their designated zones, and it was go-time. There weren’t too many guards in the safe-house, and Natasha and Bucky knew they should have been thankful, but it just seemed off. They knew these people didn’t care about these kids, but they were so secretive. Why would they just leave all of their merchandise to fall into the hands of SHIELD?

Getting the kids out was the hard part. They found Y/N in a basement, trying to talk to a dozen kids, each one speaking a different language. She switched from English to Romanian to French to Greek to Arabic to whatever else she could think of. It was clear the toll it was taking on her, with her hands shaking and her shoulders tense and her leg bouncing and her hands running through her hair over and over and over. But eventually she seemed to win, the kids finally agreeing to go with her.

She decided to carry the toddler.

Natasha and Bucky and two other SHIELD agents started leading the kids to the quinjet, not even bothering to look behind them because they had already eliminated all the threats, so they could focus only on the kids. That was what Y/N had told them to do, focus on the kids. They would be slow to trust and needed to know that they could rely on them to keep them safe. So they focused, one at a time, getting them strapped in and situated and making sure none of them needed medical attention because that would require a lot of-

-a gunshot-

-a toddler’s scream-

-another gunshot-

-silence.

Natasha and Bucky spun around, so quickly that they couldn’t even focus properly. Their thoughts were racing, their hearts threatened to beat out of their chests and their eyes pricked with unshed tears. Their eyes landed on Y/N, on the way her eyes were wide and her mouth was barely open and her bottom lip was shaking. On the way she gripped the toddler tighter, one hand on the back of her head. On the quickly growing patch of red on the left side of her chest.

They were already running before Y/N fell to her knees. By the time she was falling to the side, they had already reached her. Natasha reached out and grabbed the toddler - dead, the bullet had passed clean through the both of them - while Bucky helped Y/N onto the ground, his metal hand already pressing on the gunshot wound. She winced and yelped and tried to move away, but he didn’t let up. He couldn’t let up. Natasha handed the toddler off to one of the other agents, ignoring his horrified face, and kneeled down to try and keep Y/N’s attention.

But her eyes were already losing focus and she wasn’t answering. Natasha tried to ignore the pool of blood that was reaching their knees, instead trying to focus on Y/N. She helped Bucky lift her up and rushed her to the quinjet, trying to hide her from the kids but they knew. They all knew. And they could all see the way Y/N’s breathing hitched and faltered and the weak cries she let out when she was jostled.

And when Y/N’s breathing and pulse started to slow, they tried to guilt her into staying awake. They asked her not to go because think of all the paperwork they would have to do if she died. She always got on their case about having too much paperwork, and she didn’t want to cause them to have more, did she? Who would make them get enough sleep? If she left then think of all the nightmares they would have because they wouldn’t have her there to keep them calm and remind them that they were safe.

When that didn’t work, they resorted to begging. Please just hang on, they’re on the way to the tower, just a little longer. Please don’t close your eyes, the tower is just a few minutes away, please don’t leave us. I know it hurts, baby, please just hold on a little longer. Just keep breathing, if you keep breathing then we promise to make it worth your while. Focus on our voices, don’t pass out, please don’t do this to us. Please don’t leave us, we need you.

And when blood started falling from her lips and her eyes slid shut, they got angry. Dammit, you’re not allowed to die, you can’t do this to us. If you die, I swear to god, Y/N, I’ll kill you. You better keep fighting, Y/N, you’re not a fucking quitter. Are you really just going to lay there and die instead of fighting; don’t be such a hypocrite! Find a way to fucking heal because I’m not going to your fucking funeral! Yelling and screaming and tears falling from their lashes onto Y/N’s body.

By the time they got back to the tower, Y/N had stopped breathing and Natasha couldn’t feel her pulse. Neither of them were aware of how long ago Y/N’s pulse had stopped, they were too busy trying to get her to just open her damn eyes. The doctors took her away, doing what they could to save her, but Natasha and Bucky knew better. Y/N’s blood coated both of their hands and their clothes, and all it did was force them to face the truth. They had loved her, and she had lost her life because of it. Their teachers had been wrong; love is not for children.

For what child could survive the heartbreak love leaves behind?

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 72

Devi and Johnny attend a fancy party. Previous! Next!

--

The Social

           “-it’d be a great opportunity-.”

           “Mom…”

           “-there’ll be lots of people-.”

           “Mom.”

           “-you might even meet a man-.”

           “Mom!”

           Devi buries her face in her hands. During their one year trip through space, she found herself missing her family and resolved to visit them when she returned. Now she’s very much regretting that decision.

           “I’ve told you a million times,” Devi says sternly, “I hate. Going. To parties.”

           “I know, dear,” her mom, Marylyn, replies calmly, “but after your yearlong disappearance, don’t you think it’s time you finally did something with your life?”            Devi groans. She didn’t tell her parents the truth behind her trip- not that they’d believe it- so they think she just went on some kind of pilgrimage. Which actually isn’t that far off.

           “I am gonna do something with my life,” Devi insists, “I’m an artist, remember.”            “But when was the last time you made any money off your art?” Marylyn asks.

           She sputters, offended. “We-it-it-I-I haven’t a chance yet. I just got back two weeks ago. Things will pick up.”

           “Devi,” Marylyn says sternly, “I really wish you could follow your dreams but you need to be realistic. You have bills to pay, groceries to buy. You don’t wanna end up homeless, peddling your paintings on the street, do you?”

           Devi groans with annoyance.

           “Now, at this social, there will be plenty of upper management workers for many high level businesses,” she continues, “if you were to meet them, they could put in a good word for you and you could get a very high paying job.”

           “Great, be a desk jockey,” Devi growls, “I’d rather slit my wrists.”

           “Okay, that’s enough,” Devi’s dad, Roger, finally speaks up. “Marylyn, if she doesn’t want to go to the party, you can’t make her. But, Devi, your mother is right. You need to be more realistic and consider your future.”            Devi looks away, seething with irritation.

           Later that night, she’s lying on the floor of her studio, flipping a paintbrush between her fingers.

           Making a living through her art has always been the plan and it’s always been hard. She’s had moments of weakness but she’s never wanted to give up. And where has it gotten her? The only job she had that involved painting was with NERVE Publishing, and that sure didn’t work out.

           Sighing heavily, she stares at the blank canvas hanging over her. Mocking her with its blankness. Her dad’s words swirl around in her mind. He’s always been so supportive of her. Have things really gotten so bad that even he’s losing hope?

           She sighs again, dropping the paintbrush.

---

           “You want me to what?” Johnny asks incredulously.

           “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Devi groans.

           “A party? Really?”

           “Not a party, a social.”

           “What’s the difference?”

           “It’s fancier,” Tenna remarks, leaning over the arm of his couch.

           Johnny groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why me?”

           “I don’t wanna go alone,” Devi replies, “and I can’t bring Tenna. She’ll stand out too much.”

           “And I won’t?” he scoffs, “people go out of their way to stare at me in restaurants.”

           “You at least know how to be quiet,” she argues.

           “Whaddya mean?” Tenna snorts, “I can be hella quiet.”            They both stare at her incredulously before Devi looks back at Johnny. “Look, just…come with me, please?”

           Johnny groans loudly and immaturely. “What day is it?”

           “Saturday.”

           “That’s in two days!”

           “It’s tomorrow.”

           “Fuck!”

           “What’s all this screaming about?” Cammie asks as she rolls in from the kitchen.

           “Johnny is accompanying Devi to a social,” Tenna replies.

           “Oh, wow, that takes me back,” she snorts, “I had to attend a ton of socials with my parents when I was about your age. Don’t you worry, Devi, I’ll get him cleaned up for it. You won’t even recognize him.”

           “Thanks, Cammie,” Devi smiles weakly, “it starts at 8 so you’ll have to pick me up at 5:30, just to be safe.”            “Ugh, fine,” Johnny groans, folding his arms like a scolded toddler.

           That Saturday evening, Devi does some last minute touch-ups to her makeup in the bathroom. Or she tries to, but her hands are shaking too much. So she just grips the counter in aggravation.

           “This is a bad idea,” she states.

           “Hey, maybe you’ll have fun,” Tenna suggests, leaning against the doorway.

           “Not likely,” Devi grunts as she slips by her.

           Stopping in the living room, she incessantly taps her foot and checks the time. It’s not 5:30 yet but Johnny is always late. She can’t afford to be late to this thing if she wants to make a good first impression.

           She groans and squeezes her arms as she paces around.

           “Look, D, if you don’t wanna go to this thing, then don’t,” Tenna says.

           “No, no, I-I wanna go,” Devi insists, “or…at least I should.”

           “But you’re like super stressed.”            “It’s just because I haven’t been to any kind of social event since before we went to space,” she points out, “I’ll be fine once I’m there…probably.”

           They both perk up at a knock at the door.

           “Ooh, I’ll get it,” Tenna chirps and races over. Devi stays where she is, sighing heavily and hanging her head. She looks up when Tenna exclaims excitedly and steps aside, gesturing dramatically.

           “M’lady, your date,” she says as Johnny walks in. He’s dressed in a three piece black suit and tie with his hair smoothed back. He’d be almost unrecognizable if it wasn’t for his permanent scowl and pouty slouch.

           “Don’t call me that,” he growls and faces Devi. His scowl disappears in a flash when he sees her. Her black hair has been styled to have tight curls at the ends and she’s wearing dark purple lipstick to match her beautiful purple dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up the right side, with black pumps.

           “What?” she grunts, starting to feel a little self-conscious.

           “Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away. “You uh look nice.”

           “Oh. Thanks,” she replies, “uh so do you.”            They both stare at the floor in awkward silence.

           “You two are so cute,” Tenna comments, popping up in between them before pushing them out the door. “Now get out there and have fun, you crazy kids.”

           As they both stumble into the hallway, she slams the door behind them and they look back incredulously.

           “She knows that’s my apartment, right,” Devi grunts.

           They both shrug apathetically and head out.

           After getting into Johnny’s car, they begin the 1-2 hour drive across the city, depending on the traffic which is always bad. They’re mostly quiet and just listen to the radio. But the sound of Devi’s incessant tapping on her arms catches Johnny’s attention, and he eyes her curiously.

           “So why do you wanna go to this thing?” he asks, “doesn’t seem like you.”

           Devi hesitates for a second. “…I just thought I should try meeting some people.”            “But you hate people,” he points out.

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “but it’s…I don’t know. Important, I guess.”

           “Hmm,” Johnny grunts, unconvinced, but drops the subject. For now.

          They arrive at the venue around eight o’clock. It’s in a penthouse of a fancy, expensive hotel. As they pull into the parking lot, Johnny eyes everyone going inside with disgust.

           “Prissy, self-important, sticks-up-their-asses…” he mumbles incessantly.

           “Be nice,” Devi warns, “or at least don’t do anything.”            They exit the car and go into the hotel. Both of them immediately feel out of place in such an expensive looking place, like if they just look at a vase for too long it might crack.

           They walk briskly to the elevator and enter it with two other couples in nice clothing.

           “Are you going to the social too?” one of the women asks.

           “Uh yeah,” Devi replies, smiling awkwardly.

           “I’ve never seen you there before. First time?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh, you’ll enjoy it. It’s simply lovely. Good food, nice folk.”

           “Th-that’s good,” Devi comments, trying to be polite. Meanwhile Johnny doesn’t even try to mask his scowl.

           The elevator arrives and they exit into a large room. On the far wall is a giant window overlooking the city; the wall to their left has a doorway leading to a big balcony. In the middle of the room is a long table with lots of different kinds of finger foods and punch. And clustered throughout are groupings of rich folk, their chatter mixing into a cacophony of “stock market” and “economy”.

           Directly outside the elevator is a suited man with a notebook who is checking off the names of guests.

           “Hello there,” he says politely as Devi and Johnny approach. “Names please?”

           “Um Devi D,” she replies.

           “Ah yes, your mother said you were coming,” he says and Devi visibly cringes. “And this is?”

           “Uh this is Johnny, my…um…”            “Date?”

           They both rankle at the word but don’t argue and he marks down Johnny’s name.

           “Okay, enjoy the party,” he says and they pass.

           “Hoooookay,” Devi sighs heavily as she looks around. Most everyone is grouped up, like a middle school dance. But there are a few by themselves at the food table. They seem to be scanning the room, like her, but more analytically and less fearfully.

           A rustling by her side breaks Devi’s train of thought and she glares at Johnny as he tugs at his tie.

           “Would you stop that,” she hisses.

           “I hate it,” he whines, “a noose is more comfortable.”

           “Just-.” She smacks his hand away and takes a deep breath. “Just stay here and don’t do anything.”

           He huffs and folds his arms as she walks away to the food table.

           “Be confident,” she tells herself as she approaches a well-dressed man holding a glass of punch.

           “Hello,” she says, waving to him. “I’m Devi.”

          Her skin crawls as he looks her up and down, but she maintains her smile and he smiles back.

           “Hello, Devi,” he says and shakes her hand. “I’m James. It’s a pleasure.”

           “Likewise,” she replies, “so, James, what is it you do?”

           “I am so glad you asked,” he purrs and hands her a business card. “I am CEO of High Rise Banks.”

           “High Rise?” Devi questions as she looks at his card. They were the second biggest bank in the city, before Mussolini banks went under.

           “Yes,” James says proudly, “as you can imagine, our stocks have really risen since Celio Mussolini passed, may he rest in peace.”

           “Uh, he’s not dead,” she points out.

           “Yes, but he might as well be. His reputation is ruined.”

           Devi struggles not to roll her eyes and smiles instead. “That’s really interesting, James. I bet working in such a…lucrative bank is a great opportunity.”

           “It sure is,” he beams, “and a beautiful woman such as yourself would be a great secretary. Why don’t you give me a call sometime and we’ll set up an interview?”

           Devi fights every urge in her body to gut-punch the creep and maintains her smile. “Great. Happy to.”

           “Fantastic,” James purrs before walking away.

            As soon as he’s gone, a heavy sigh heaves through Devi’s body and her smile drops like a ten ton weight. She looks at the business card again. This is good. She probably has a high chance of receiving a job now because of this. It’s good…right?

           A heavy pit grows in her stomach as she stares at the card and she sighs again.

           “What’s that?”

           “Fu-!” she bites her tongue to keep from shouting ‘Fuck!’ as she spins around to Johnny, peeking over her shoulder.

           “I told you to stay put,” she hisses.

           “I saw you talking to that guy and got curious,” Nny shrugs, “I caught most of it. You were really talking out your ass. You don’t care about ‘High End Banks’ or whatever the fuck.”

           “No,” Devi admits as she pockets the card. “But I need a job.”

           “So you wanna work with these pretentious assholes?”

           “It’s not about what I wanna do, it’s about what I have to do,” she states and turns away. “Why don’t you eat some snacks or something and don’t bother me.”

           Johnny watches her walk away, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

           Devi spends about an hour talking to people around the party. She didn’t notice before, but most of them are rich, self-important, pompous, creepy white men, sometimes with pretty women hanging off their shoulders like a trophy. And they’re always happy to talk to another beautiful woman, especially when she keeps smiling at everything they say.

           It really leaves a disgusting taste in Devi’s mouth.

           Johnny watches the whole thing from the table, scrutinizingly observing Devi’s every move. He refuses to interfere, even when a group of women hanging around one older man laugh and insult her like teen girls, and she doesn’t snap back. Not even when another man gets a little too close into her personal space and she doesn’t even step back.

           But Johnny can feel himself at his limit when a third man starts getting too touchy. He takes Devi’s hand and starts rubbing her arm. Johnny spots Devi’s other hand twitching, like she wants to slap him. But she doesn’t.

           As the man reaches her shoulder, Johnny steps in, grabbing his arm and pulling it back.

           “Johnny!” Devi exclaims.

           “Who the-!” the man starts to bark but freezes up when Johnny glares at him. Johnny lets go of his limp arm and leads Devi away, despite her protests.

           “Johnny! Stop! What are you-!” she snaps as he leads her out onto the balcony, letting her go as he closes the door behind them.

           “Why didn’t you punch that guy?” he asks, “I can tell you wanted to.”

           “Of course I fucking wanted to,” she snaps, “I want to punch everyone in there! But I can’t. I’m trying to get these people to like me. And I told you to stop bothering me!”

           “Then why’d you bring me here!”

           She stops, unable to answer.

           Johnny takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look. The only reason I didn’t snap that guy’s arm and disembowel him with the punch ladle is because I know this is important to you. But I’m not just gonna watch you degrade yourself.”

           “What choice do I have?” she asks hopelessly, “nothing has been working out the way I want it to. I need a job if I’m gonna survive and art is just…is not working out.”

           “Have you even tried?” Johnny asks, “we just got back from space like a week ago.”

           “Two weeks.”

           “Whatever.”

           Devi sighs and looks off the balcony silently, rubbing her arms from the chill of the night air.

           “Why are you trying to be this person?” Nny asks, “what happened to the badass Devi who never took anyone’s shit? Who helped sabotage an alien ship? Who kicked my ass?”

           Devi chuckles lightly but quickly grows somber again. “I don’t know. Maybe my parents are in my head but…I just think…maybe I should start acting like an adult.”

           “And who decided this is what being an adult is?” he questions, gesturing to the party. “Granted, I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t have to be this. Right?”

           She doesn’t reply, just looks into the party forlornly.

           Johnny sighs and leans against the railing, folding his arms. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. If this is what you want, I’ll…I’ll stay out of it.”

           Devi smiles at him gratefully and looks back at the party, then at the city skyline off the balcony. What does she want?            “Right now…” she mumbles, “all I want is to…enjoy this view.”

           Johnny looks at her with surprise before turning to the city. “It is a nice view.”            They stare a second longer when the door opens.

           “Devi, everything okay?” James asks as he walks out.

           “Uh, yeah,” she replies, “everything’s fine.”

           “That’s good,” he says, “so, listen, why don’t you join me at my after party at my house? Some other guests are coming, as well as some friends.”

           “Ah, no, I don’t think so,” Devi says, staring at the floor.

           “Oh, come on,” James insists and steps closer. Johnny’s eyes narrow angrily but he forces himself to stay put. “A pretty girl like you; you’d be the center of attention.”

           James reaches forward and gently brushes his finger against Devi’s cheek, and her patience snapping is nearly audible.

           She slaps James across the face, knocking him off his feet. He’s so in shock, he doesn’t even move; just lies there, rubbing his aching cheek. Johnny is surprised too by her sudden shift, but even more pleased.

           “That’s it. That’s fucking it!” Devi shouts as she leaves the balcony, everyone staring at her with bewilderment. “Fuck this shit! I am sick of trying to live my life everyone else’s way. I’m gonna become a freelance artist even if it kills me!”

           She stomps to the food table, taking out all the business cards she’s earned tonight, tearing them to pieces, and dropping them in the punch bowl.

           “Johnny!” she barks.

           “Coming,” he chimes, stepping over the still shocked James- but not before giving him a quick kick in the gut- and racing after her. They enter the elevator and leave behind a really stunned party.

           They’re quiet as they get into Johnny’s car and drive away. Then Nny asks, “so…what now?”

           Devi takes a couple deep breaths, running her fingers through her hair. “I know where we should go.”

           A little while later, they arrive at the hill where they had their first date, a long time ago. Leaving behind their uncomfortable shoes, as well as Johnny’s tie and coat, they get out and sit on the hood.

           Devi breathes the air deeply before stretching and sighing happily, lying back against the windshield.

           “Fuck,” she breathes, “it feels like…a huge weight was just removed from my shoulders. What a waste of time all that was.”

           “Yeah,” Nny agrees, “still, pretty worth it to see you floor that asshole.”

           “Yeah,” she chuckles.

           They’re quiet for a second as they stare at the stars.

           “Thanks for coming with me,” Devi says.

           “No problem,” Nny replies.

[stanbillyhargrove]

Closer

Based off the song Closer by the Chainsmokers

"Hey, you know, I was fine before you. Perfectly fine," Billy slurred, voice catching on his message. "I'm fine without you. Have been, will be. Don't need you anyway."

Billy had been drunk for a week after Steph left. Packed up her bags and said she was leaving, leaving Hawkins behind, leaving him behind, for something better, bigger, brighter. More fitting to her wild personality, somewhere nobody knew her. She'd offered once for Billy to come with her, once, but he couldn't. Not yet, he'd said, begged her to wait for him, pleaded for a little more time. He still wanted to go back to California, had to go back. But she couldn't, wouldn't wait for him, had to go right away, in the dead of night when nobody would realize. Billy had left drunk messages on her cell all week, some angry, some pleading but all slurring, tripping over his words.

Drunk calls turned into drunk texts. I miss you, I can't believe you left without me. I hate you and I don't know how you could do that to me, like I meant nothing. Did I mean nothing? Did we mean nothing?

"Why'd you come into my life anyway? Just to fuck me up some more? Cause it didn't work, I'm fine. I'm always fine, peachy fucking keen."

Drunk texts became less frequent, became depressed middle of the night texts and even those dwindled. Those became weekly and then monthly check ins. Steph only answered occasionally, when the depression and the loneliness was threatening to eat her alive. She'd answer you're drunk and go to sleep. Didn't give him too much, only told him she lived in New York now, had met some people. Never called him, never answered when he tried to call.

"Hey, how's your car? That thing always was a piece of shit, hope it's not giving you too much trouble."

And it's been four years now and the texts are only on special occasions. Happy birthday, I still think about you and Happy Halloween, I know that was your favorite, do you remember being huddled up on the couch watching horror movies all night? God, I miss you and I'm thinking about coming out to New York, if you want to get together.

"I'm coming to New York, gunna drive across the country again. Don't know if I'll actually run into you or not, but uh.. hit me up."

Steph worked in a hotel bar now, one of hundreds in the city, didn't think Billy would have any luck finding her if he came. She didn't answer him, hoped her silence would steer him away. Hoped that his image of her wouldn't fade by seeing that nothing had gone her way since leaving. She'd been homeless for a while, jumping couch to couch of coworkers until finding an ad for a roommate. Her car had died after a year out here, left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Oh how she wished she had Billy with her then, with his knowledge of vehicles and his protective nature. Instead, she'd hunkered down in the backseat, doors locked and waited until the sun came up to call for help.

After two years she had a second hand Range Rover that she hadn't been able to afford, had scraped by for weeks, getting rides to and from work with coworkers and living off instant ramen to put together just enough cash. Steph had kept a mattress one of her roommates had left behind, traded it with the one she'd found online, at least it was a bit more comfortable.

Steph strode into work with a withering sigh, adjusting her too small skirt and too low shirt. Everything here was too much. Too small, too big, too grabby, too lonely. She missed her friends, real friends, not one night friends. With raised eyebrows and a twisted stomach she took stock of the man sitting alone in the corner of the bar. Remembered a boy that she had left behind, a boy who called her drunk at two in the morning to yell about how much he hated her. He had grown up a lot since then, dirty blonde hair shorter now, cut close to his face. Golden muscles popped, strained against his skin like it was too tight. There was a softness though, like he had finally come to peace with his life, had accepted and moved beyond his past, healed. His face was relaxed, easy as he sipped on a coffee. Eyes no longer burning with rage.

"Billy," she whispered, soft and unbelieving.

He turned, blue eyes bright against the dim light of the bar, "Princess," his breath hitched in his throat.

Billy moved to stand up, was stopped by Steph's raised hand.

"I can't, not while I'm working."

Those bright blue eyes flicked down to the table, sad, "right," a beat of silence before he looked back up at her, "you look good, as good as the day we met, Steph. A little different but still my Steph."

She placed a small hand on his shoulder, felt the muscles jump when she gave it a squeeze, "you look good too, Billy. Really good. I'm off at ten. If you want to catch up after."

Billy's face cracked with a smile, "I can wait."

--

"How have you been?"

"Fuck, Steph. I've..well I've been okay," he sighed, "moved. Got the fuck away from Neil."

She smiled at him, took a drag off her cigarette, "that's really good, Billy. Where'd you run off to?"

"I floated for a while, drove across the country. Ended in California."

Steph nodded, "knew it. You were always going back."

There was a moment of silence while they puffed their cigarettes.

"I forget why I left you. I was insane, stupid, too eager to leave. I should have waited."

"It wasn't stupid, Princess. I think we needed it, needed to grow a little."

"I broke your heart," her eyes got dewy as she chewed her lip.

"Yeah, you did," he smirked, "but that's okay. It was good for me, figured out who I am, what I want outta life."

"Oh yeah? And who are you?" Steph dropped the butt of her cigarette and stepped closer to him, "what do you want?"

Billy smirked, tongue darting out to wet his lips and ducked his head down, close, so close to hers, "I want you."

--

Billy was close, so fucking close to Steph's face, had captured her between his warm chest and the back seat of her Rover. And it's been years, four fucking years since she's felt heat like what rolled off his body and they're together, in the back of her stupid expensive Rover. The stupid expensive Rover that she had to get because she left Billy behind and her old car had left her stranded and she'd spent the night wishing, wishing that she could have him with her and now here he was. He had crossed the fucking country to look in every bar, wishing to catch a glimpse of her. And he was different now, an easy calm had taken over where he used to feel nothing but rage and he had more tattoos, had collected them as he crossed the country. He could map out his journey with his skin, the journey it took to find himself so that he could could turn around to find her.

And Steph was different too, was comfortable and resigned in her loneliness. Had a tattoo on her shoulder, orange poppies for California and tiny blue forget me nots. Because even though she had left Billy behind she had never forgotten him, would never forget him even though sometimes she wished she could. Wished that she could forget the way those bright blue eyes shone in the dark, the way they looked framed by thick dark lashes. But she was lonely and grown up now and had realized she would never forget the warmth that radiated off his skin like he had captured the sun in his veins.

"God, I fucking missed you," Billy groaned into her neck.

Steph fisted her hand in his hair, pulled him as close as she could, not close enough, "I missed you, Billy, fuck, I missed you."

Her eyes were dewy again with tears threatening to spill and her breath hitched in her chest as she tried not to sob. Billy leaned back to look at her, his blue eyes just as misty as hers.

"Steph, Princess.."

Her tears fell down her cheeks, "I n-never stopped..thinking about you. I figured you would hate me after I left and thought it was best if I let you move on. Then I was scared, so fucking scared to reach out to you...I'm sorry I was so stupid."

Billy pulled her with him as he rolled to lay across the back seat, letting Steph clutch his jacket as she sobbed. His hand trailed through her hair, a few tears spilling down his cheeks as well. So they held each other, clutched each other desperately like they could stop themselves from falling apart if the just held on hard enough.

"Sshh, Baby, it's okay," he cooed, "it's okay, I don't hate you. I was just angry, I could never hate you."

Steph's sobs racked her body, making her begin to hyperventilate. Cause she left with nothing but her shitty car and it was the biggest mistake of her life that she wore on her shoulder.

"Steph, please, you need to calm down," Billy pulled her into him with all his might, wrapped his legs around her too just so he could squeeze tighter.

--

"Billy," Steph cried.

They had made it back to her shitty apartment after she calmed down, Billy in his old Camaro that he loved so much and her leading the way in her Rover. Had torn each others clothes off in a fit of desperation once they had barely made it in the door.

Billy groaned into her neck, slowly pumping his hips into her as they rode out their orgasms. With a content sigh he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to bury his nose in her hair. Steph hummed, a small smile on her face as she breathed in the scent of sweat, cologne and cigarettes before reality came crashing down on her.

"When do you go back?" She whispered into his shoulder.

Billy sighed again, long and withering this time, "in a couple days."

Steph felt tears prick her eyes again and her throat started closing up while she untangled herself from Billy and sat up on the edge of the bed. Billy sat up behind her and laid his face on her shoulder.

"Talk to me, Princess," he whispered, pressing light kisses on her skin.

"Billy, fuck, this was a mistake."

"What was?"

"Us. This. We're just going to be apart again.."

He was quiet for a moment, "well what if we weren't?"

"What?"

"I don't want to be left behind again, Steph. If you want to stay here and you ask me to move here with you I will. Or you could come back to California with me. Just pack up our vehicles and we could leave."

Steph sniffed and looked at him with hopeful eyes, "are you sure?"

"Steph, I know you got all my messages. I never stopped thinking about you for four fucking years," he ran his hand across the tattoo on her shoulder, "I know you were thinking about me too."

A small smile stretched across her face, "y'know, I fucking hate New York."

[iris-somnia]

Catch Up Tag 🌸

Tagged by beautiful angels @yeoldontknow​ to do this catch up tag. Thank you, dear!

1. What do you prefer to be called name-wise?

I use Iris here, but I have other pseudonyms on other profiles in order to protect myself. I never use my real name online.

2. When is your birthday?

Late February.

3. Where do you live?

I’m currently living in a hotel I can’t afford long term. I hope to find permanent shelter soon but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard as hell.

4. Three things you are doing right now?

I’m AFK fishing on Black Desert Online because they’re doing the fishing event that gives free money and if I can’t be rich irl, I can at least be the big cheese with an avatar that looks like an eight-year old forest nymph. I’m also listening to WayV because they’ve consistently held up as a good choice no matter what mood I’m in this year. In about 15 minutes, I’ll resume watching the Crown and doing my sticker book (my guilty pleasure during homelessness).

5. Four fandoms that have peaked your interest?

Honestly, I’ve avoided fandoms this year because people really don’t know how to take a breath and enjoy shit. Most kpop fandoms have a subset of older fans who I enjoy interacting with because they only talk about the music and performances, but there are other wings of fans who are so obsessed with winning and being all-powerful that I don’t even want to listen to the music anymore because it’ll feed the monster.

The accounts/mutuals who I’ve enjoyed the most this year have been Starlights, Insomnia, Sirens (Chloe x Halle), and Warriors & Weirdos (Aurora). I’m seeing some promising reasons to get back into video game fandoms but lord, there’s so much drama in most of the companies that I am holding back.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you?

No one in my immediate family has gotten sick, but I did have to bury my grandmother this spring and many family couldn’t come to her service because of the restrictions. Some of my colleagues have COVID. Many more lost their jobs because of it and most of them who were laid off were done so under false pretenses and I’m still mad.

I’m working remotely, but a budget scare earlier in the year motivated my employer to announce a furlough for many of us, only to rescind it a couple of days before it went live. By then, I had already lost my apartment and had packed all my shit in storage. I’ve been couch surfing and living in hotels since August and it’s cost me thousands of dollars. I’ve learned that when you don’t have a permanent address, people assume you’re a junkie even when you wash your ass. I’ve had a lot of disappointments this year in terms of human behavior, but vices like alcohol and beautiful women keep me level enough to stay out of the deep end. That, and I meditate a lot. 

I have lost all my patience with assholes though, especially ones who puff up at me in public like I’ll be intimidated and fold. Confrontation and avoidance are two sides of the same coin and I keep flipping it like a gambler. I’m either pretending they’re dead or I’m ripping a new asshole in a way that makes those eyes pop like “oh shitttttt.” When I’m no longer in survival mode with my housing, I hope to go back to understanding the nuances of lived experience. Until then, it’s eat or be eaten and I absolutely hate living black & white like that.

7. A song you can’t stop listening to?

Megan Thee Stallion - Realer. 

8. Recommend a movie?

1917 (2019) - It’s a British war film that has some of the best cinematography I’ve seen in many years. I was on the edge of my seat with chest pains but wow.

9. How old are you?

32

10. School, university, occupation, other?

Employed at a non-profit that profits off human suffering. I work there as a form of prostitution because of my student loans but I’m considering going into a different training program so I can leave and work for myself. It’ll take a couple years to save up.

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

I refer 70 degrees F because my winter coat’s in storage.

12. Name one fact others may not know about you?

I have two history degrees and used to teach civics, U.S. history, and world history for a living. That’s why I’ve taken this year’s politics harder than your average citizen and it’s why my Twitter account is raging against elected officials half the time. Historians don’t shut off.

13. Are you shy?

Eh, not really anymore. I trained out of it because shyness kept me from earning money. Now I’m selectively withdrawn because I understand that the more people I interact with, the more likely I’ll need a nap. 

14. Preferred pronouns?

She/her

15. Biggest pet peeves?

1 - People not wearing masks when my region has run out of hospital beds.  2 - Ghosting with no explanation. I would rather be told, “I lied, I hate you,” because it gives closure. Ghosting always means billable therapy hours as I revisit why I’m preparing for a life alone. 3 - Not tipping food service staff. If you don’t tip food service workers, fuck you.

16. What is your favorite ‘dere’ type?

In anime/manga, I enjoy goudere characters for comic relief. 17. How would you rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be?

A solid 5 which will jump to a 7 when I have permanent shelter.

18. What is your main blog?

It’s a reblog of my non-kpop interests: @my-astral-wanderlust​

19. Is there something people need to know about you before they become friends?

Honestly, I probably should consider myself anti-friend or at least perpetually unlucky with my track record.

I go through periods of time where I can’t communicate well for medical reasons and it’s not a reflection on that friend as a person, but rather a challenge I’ve lived with since childhood. It could be walls of text or radio silence depending on how much I trust someone and that’s always to my own peril. Withdrawal from socializing is common during time periods when I know I’m likely to hurt someone’s feelings, especially if I love them and care about their emotional safety. I struggle a lot sharing vulnerabilities and true feelings to friends because I have many memories and experiences of people telling me they loved me and then using those vulnerabilities as ammunition to hurt me later. I’ve had many ex-friends lie about the kind of person I am when talking to friends/family, on everything from sexuality to appearance to interests to how we know each other. That, and many who claim to be my friend ditch me the moment I call out shitty behavior like lying to me or not keeping promises. 

With that kind of track record, I’ll take a nice dog. Trusting people is almost unattainable and while it’s a sad state of affairs, I’d rather not get actively hurt constantly.

tagging: ...I think a lot of my mutuals have already been tagged here but my memory isn’t good right now. Sooo if you want to be tagged, consider yourself tagged!

[rodville]

posting on my personal blog because I don’t feel it’s a fit for F-C but want to make sure the info gets out.

Hopefully this will get posted while it might still do some good.

I just want to bring awareness to a situation not everyone may know about. I’m sure everyone’s seen and/or dealt with people hoarding food or water or other resources during this whole coronavirus thing, and obviously we can look at those people and see that what they’re doing is silly (to put it mildly), but not everyone is aware that hoarding those things puts certain groups of people in actual danger.

For some background, I’m homeless. My dad and I still live together with my dog and certain belongings (clothes, my laptop, things like that) and we’ve been dealing with this situation for a little over two years now. And if you’ve seen my other submissions here, then you may be familiar with the fact that he works a rideshare service nearly everyday for us to have a place to live (in and out of hotels) and pay bills

At the time I’m writing this, we’re currently living in the car and have been for a few days. He couldn’t make enough one day due to people self-quarantining and so we couldn’t afford hotel costs and ended up in our car (not for the first time)

Because of this I am seeing and dealing with the effects of food/water hoarding firsthand

I’m lucky enough to get food benefits from the state, but many others are not. When customers hoard food and water, it makes it very difficult for poor/homeless people to be able to buy the things they need to survive. Many people in my situation can’t afford $4+ for a loaf of bread or bottle of fancy branded water, which leaves them with very little options for anything else to eat or drink. This problem also happens when people stock up on canned goods. In a lot of instances, canned goods are the only foods that people in my situation (living in a car or on the streets) can safely store and eat, and when canned goods are gone so are our options.

Another issue is when restaurants and fast food places close their inner dining areas, homeless people are immediately cut off from access to a clean bathroom and/or source of free water. This means we have to relieve ourselves on the streets, which is not only humiliating but is also very dangerous and dirty, and is a much easier way to transmit even worse diseases than coronavirus.

Believe me, I understand wanting to keep everyone safe, especially service workers who aren’t getting paid enough and often have no benefits or health insurance. But you can’t help people by harming hundreds of thousands of others. In California alone (where my dad and I live) there are 129,000 plus homeless people. The numbers get worse every day here, and our problems are pushed aside even during a crisis that could kill us too.

So to everyone out there thinking this is the end of the world: it isn’t. Please don’t hoard food or water, especially not the cheapest brands, as you may be effectively killing a homeless person. Starvation and dehydration are extremely serious, yet also extremely preventable, but people in my situation still have to face these issues on a daily basis and it’s very scary

I hope this is ok for this blog. I tried to tie in customers hoarding to get the point out there, so I hope others will get to see this and share it. Hopefully we can make a difference during this time of panic