#we went to eat something and one of them got a hotdog

[byfulcrums]

Wally: Burger

Barry: Wally that's a hotdog

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.” 

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place. 

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but  you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks. 

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself. 

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats. 

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes. 

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it. 

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that. 

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten. 

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison. 

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him. 

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed. 

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.” 

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp. 

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line. 

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day. 

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him. 

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!” 

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers. 

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket. 

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?” 

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words. 

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.” 

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting. 

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison. 

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with. 

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door. 

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined. 

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed. 

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members. 

“What do you think Jesse's up to?” 

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.” 

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.” 

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again. 

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members. 

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother. 

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions. 

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

food is the gateway to the soul

@myloveforhergoeson hi lol, this was the reason why I asked if Roxy and Dec like pumpkin pie! (and ab if someone cooked for him, but in this case baked) these two makes me absolutely insane so that's why i've been cranking out so much but if you ever want me to stop or give you your barbies back i will dw

dividers: cafekitsune

Declan wasn’t surprised when he got a text from a random number. It was from Lila. She didn’t waste her time with cryptic words or phrases, and got to the point. Something was wrong with Donna. Now, in the Somerset household there was a desert that could make Roxy and Declan feel better no matter what. It was their favorite dish, and relatively easy to make. 

Roxy stepped through the front door, a bit surprised her dad was in the kitchen. Slotting her keys into her pocket she closed the door as softly as she could and balanced on her tip-toes to spy on what he was doing. Throughout her childhood she was accustomed to her dad experimenting with food and trying to make things in the kitchen, but it didn’t stop her from being curious and nosy. She smelled the sugar and saw the green food-dye on the counter and she lit up like a Christmas tree. And then she noticed he put it in dark blue tupperware. 

“What’re you doing?” Roxy popped into view with a big grin on her face, nearly scaring her father half to death. 

“Jesus– Roxy!” 

“Why are you so jumpy? Are you embarrassed?” 

“No, I’m not embarrassed.” Declan put a hand to his heart and exhaled sharply. He swore his heart was beating out of his chest. She got him good. “I thought you went out with your friends,” 

“Yeah, but then Carlos got sick from eating too many hotdogs. Logan told him not to enter that hotdog eating contest.” 

“Yikes, he’ll be in pain for a while.” 

“So, what are you doing?” Roxy slid into one of the stools. She rested her chin in her palms and leaned her elbows on the marble surface. “Is it a special occasion?” 

“Technically it’s a special occasion,” Declan chuckled. He ducked to rifle through the drawer for the lid. He had it just a second ago. 

“Are you gonna go see your girlfriend?” Roxy couldn’t hold back her giggle. Her cheeks hurt from all this smiling. 

“Kid, she’s not my girlfriend. You don’t– You don’t understand how adult relationships work yet.” 

“I think I understand enough,” Roxy pouted and crossed her arms. “You’ve been spending an awful lotta time with her.” 

Declan coughed to cover up a laugh. 

“I could say the same about you and James,” 

“This isn’t about me!” Roxy’s voice rose an octave and her face turned red. 

“So, you’re saying you don’t spend a lot of time with him?” Declan stood up and gently kicked the drawer closed with his foot. He finally found the correct lid for the circular tupperware. 

“Deflection. This is deflection.” Roxy huffed. Her face grew a shade darker. “The only other person you’ve made this for is me, and now you’re making it with her.” The smile found its way back on her face and she giggled behind her hands. 

“I was told she wasn’t feeling well,” 

“By whom? I’m the only one who tells you stuff about her.” Roxy narrowed her eyes. Someone else was meddling, and it was crucial to find out before they either got in the way or made them hate each other. 

“Her friend thought it was dire enough to text me. She’s not hurt, or anything. She just… isn’t feeling well.” 

“Lila got your phone number? Wait– Lila wants you two to get together? I need to start texting her!” 

“Roxy–” 

“No, dad, this is important to me. If we can pool together then it might as well be that you and Donna are fated to be together!” 

Declan felt the heat creep up his neck and his lips quivered, trying to hold back a smile. For most of his life, everything he ever did was for Roxy and although as a kid she’d drawn pictures for him and dedicated songs for him. For some reason, this seemed to make his heart swell even more. If that were possible. He knew she was only meddling because he never truly did anything for himself, and his social circle was relatively small. But seeing her so happy made a difference. She was happy to make her dad happy, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Wait!” Roxy gasped, eyes wide. “Can I bring it over with you?” 

Declan raised a questioning brow. 

“What? I want to know if she’s okay, too.” 

“I wasn’t going to say no.” 

“Okay, let’s go!” 

Roxy hopped off the stool with an energy Declan didn’t know she had. He nearly dropped the plastic tupperware before he realized he first had to clean up the mess he made. She was most likely already waiting at the elevator, buzzing like an electrical current but she could wait a few minutes. 

He remembered the apartment building because he dropped her off. (And totally not because he couldn’t forget about that kiss on the cheek.) The only problem was that he didn’t know what floor. Until Roxy pressed a button on the panel on the wall beside the door and Lila’s voice filtered through. 

“Could you let us up? Also, we don’t know where Donna’s apartment is.” 

“You don’t know– How does your father not know where her apartment is?” Lila laughed. “Sure, I’ll let you up.” 

“Wait, tell them I said hi!” Myron’s voice came from the background. 

“They can hear you,” Lila shot back. 

The click was audible to both Roxy and Declan when the front door unlocked. The ground floor lobby was spotless. The locked mailboxes on the wall were shining. A plant in the corner looked like it had been well looked after. There was a sign on the corner that read ‘elevator’ but at the end of the hall was an open doorway. The linoleum floor ended at the open doorway and switched to a mauve carpet. There was a stairway opposite of the elevators but neither Roxy or Declan wanted to climb. 

It was pretty silent in the lobby. Their footsteps echoed, and it kind of smelled like the inside of an autoshop. When the elevator opened Declan and Roxy jumped and turned around. Lila smiled brightly and waved excitedly. Her floor length skirt was covered in different patches of fabric and her shirt with tulle bell-sleeves was black and purple. Her bottle-blonde hair was thrown haphazardly into two buns atop her head, fastened with hair sticks. 

“Oh! It’s so great to see the guy Donna’s been seeing in person!” She clapped her hands together. “You are so much better than the last one,” She pulled Declan and Roxy inside. Neither were expecting her to have much strength. 

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Roxy tucked hair behind her ears. “Wait, what do you mean last one?” 

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a story I can tell.” Lila pressed the button for the fourth floor. 

“But you mentioned it and now I’m curious,” 

“Roxy–” 

“She’s fine. I can tell you raised a very curious kid, props to that.” Lila twisted the ring on her finger and exhaled sharply. “Nate stole a couple of ours songs a while back,” 

Roxy tensed up. She had experienced that with her last band. It hit close to home for her, and she nodded, tucking hair behind her ear when it fell. 

“Then my dad is definitely better,” 

“And it’s not good if we dwell on the past.” Lila patted both their shoulders. “But, this is around the time when Sneakers makes a break for it.” 

“Who’s sneakers?” Roxy furrowed her brows. 

The elevator opened on the fourth floor and a door down the hall opened just a few seconds later. It was an orange blob in the distance, but once it got closer it was very obviously an orange tabby cat. 

“Awe, is the little boy looking for his enrichment time?” Lila cooed and picked up the cat who happily welcomed her embrace. “He’s just a sweetie pie. Aren’t you?” 

“Oh my god, it’s a cat.” Roxy was enamoured with the feline in a heartbeat. “This is Sneakers? I love him. Can I pet him?” 

“He’s not really fond of strangers, but it’s okay.” 

The orange and white cat fur was so soft. If someone made a pillow out of this fur then she could die happily. Sneakers tail swished and he purred happily, nuzzling into Roxy’s hand as she petted it gently. 

Donna looked and felt like she got up on the wrong side of bed. She wore grey baggy sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt. Her hair, although short, stuck up in every other direction. The shadows on her face were deeper and her eye bags were very grey. She paused in the middle of the hallway when she realized all three of them were staring at her. Lila and Roxy were holding her cat, and Declan was holding tupperware. Her shoulders shot up to her ears and she turned on her heel to escape to the confines of her one-bedroom apartment. 

Declan didn’t know why, but his legs started moving. They carried him down the hall, and just in time his foot jammed the doorway. He didn’t exactly know what to say, but he didn’t want to stand there awkwardly either. 

“I brought food, can I come in?” The cherry on top was his awkward smile. 

Donna needed a minute to compose herself, but she couldn’t decline. His smile was like the sun, and she’d rather not chase that away. Reluctantly she opened the door wider and stepped to the side. 

“You wanna hear more about Nate?” Lila quirked a brow, Roxy hadn’t stopped petting Sneakers. 

“Yes, please.” Roxy nodded eagerly. 

“Let’s let them handle whatever it is, and bring this little guy with us.” She pressed a chaste kiss to the cat's forehead and swapped the arm that was holding him to grab her keys from her pocket. 

Declan closed the door behind him and carefully pulled off his shoes. He wasn’t sure what the policy was about shoes indoors, but it was better to take ‘em off anyway. It was only polite. And it was also something he learned about from Mrs. Knight when she scolded her son and his friends for tracking their dirty shoes in the apartment. He hadn’t forgotten the dark blue tupperware bowl in his hands. 

“It's an oreo fluff salad, I hope it being green doesn’t freak you out. It didn’t go bad, I just… added green food coloring.” 

“What is an oreo salad?” 

“Oh, it is the greatest thing known to man.” Declan grinned. “Once you have a taste of this, you’ll forget what’s wrong.” 

“Okay, open it up.” 

Donna turned on her heel and pulled open a drawer. He said it was a salad so she assumed they’d need forks, but just in case she also grabbed spoons. Her kitchen was pretty clean, there were dishes piled high in her sink but it wasn’t like Declan could judge her for that. Her fuzzy socks had a cat paw pattern on them. She paused in front of the fridge and turned slightly. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I have Pepsi, sweet tea… I think that’s orange juice.” She squinted and leaned her head forward. “And just plain water,” 

“Sweet tea?” 

Now, Declan and Roxy have a major sweet tooth but that was something he could never make. It reminded him too much of his mother. Despite replacing old memories with newer, nicer ones, it was just something he stayed away from. His ears perked hearing the ice clink against the pitcher. For a small moment, he felt like he was back at his childhood home watching his mother in the kitchen. But the faint memory went away, cut apart by her voice. 

“Myron taught me how to make it one summer, his parents were from Arizona and his grandparents retired to the sleepy town in Oregon where I met him.” Donna carefully poured the cold beverage into a clear plastic cup with a pink straw. She laughed. “He bought a pound of sugar, and poured half of it in. I was utterly mortified.” 

She put the pitcher back in the fridge and grabbed a can of Pepsi, closing the fridge with her foot. Declan liked how spacious her kitchen was. It was in the corner of her apartment too, and the window above the sink was perfect. Donna paused and tilted her head. 

“What? Do I have anything on my face?” 

Declan didn’t realize he was staring, until now. Snapping out of it he shook his head. 

“No– I just– Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, it just comes and goes.” Donna shrugged. She stepped around the sofa and put everything in her hands on the coffee table. 

“Hold on, I at least need to know if you’re okay.” He joined her on the couch. 

“I’ll be okay.” She patted his knee, but to him that wasn’t a good enough answer. He was worried. He was concerned. He didn’t want something to happen. 

“No. Are you okay?” He repeated, resting his hand on top of hers. Her fingers were cold. 

For a moment, she was taken aback. Donna stared at him with wide eyes. It looked like the cogs in her brain were moving slowly as she searched for an answer, any answer to give to him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being vulnerable in front of others, but she didn’t. Not entirely. She was afraid of chasing him away. It was her fault she got upset. 

“Donna,” Declan put the tupperware container on the coffee table and turned his body to face her. “I need to know if you’re okay.” 

Part of her was almost terrified. He looked at her so softly, and little by little her resolve slowly crumbled. Tears brimmed her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks before she could stop herself. She squeezed his knee gently and took a shaky breath. Without a word Declan pulled her into an embrace. She was startled, but melted into the embrace like a pad of butter on pancakes. 

“It’s okay, you can let it out.” His voice was so soft and comforting. Donna started to cry. 

It wasn’t that Declan didn’t care, it was that he didn’t know and didn’t want to know if she didn’t want to tell him. But when he first stepped into the apartment he saw the pictures lining the walls and shelves of people that he could only assume were her family. His arms tightened around her and he took a steady, calming breath. Declan was tangible, something she could hold onto without the fear of him leaving. Her fists curled around the front of his shirt. Although he was solid and tangible, she still couldn’t help but think this was some silly dream she would wake up from. She had to have a willful resolve, she had to be strong and stand tall. 

By the time she wanted to stop crying, she couldn’t. Her tear ducts were a broken sink. Declan rubbed her back and soothingly shushed her once he noticed she tried to stop crying. After a while her tears turned into hiccups, and then she would hold her breath. 

“I’m sorry– I just– It happens. It just happens.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to be sad sometimes.” Declan chuckled softly, his stubble tickled the exposed skin between her neck and collarbone which tickled. “And I know you’d do the same in a heartbeat,” 

Then Donna pulled away with eyes wide as the moon. 

“Oh shit! The pie!” 

She jumped off the couch in a hurried panic and nearly tripped over herself to get to the kitchen. It took him a moment to process, but realization struck him when he saw her open the oven. 

“Before Sneakers ran out, I was baking a pie to make myself feel better. I accidentally left it in here even though the oven is off…” 

“That means nothing bad happens, right?” 

“Well. I don’t know.” 

“Wait, you know how to bake?” 

“Yeah, my mom taught me. Except we never baked pumpkin pie, my favorite, because we always had to bake blueberries or apples since my dad and my brother loved those.” Donna set the pie on the counter and carefully inspected it. 

It seemed perfectly fine even though it sat in the oven while the oven cooled down. Like her mother always taught her, she rummaged around in her cupboards for a toothpick. The toothpick test was the most common thing for baked goods. It was simple. If the toothpick didn’t have any residue then it was fine, but if it did then it might need some time to set or a few extra minutes with the heat. Donna had no doubt in her mind that the pie needed extra time to set, but she stuck a toothpick in anyway and pulled it out only for her suspicions to be confirmed. With the toothpick in the trash she wasted no time moving things around in her fridge to let the pie cool. 

“What was I crying about?” 

Her worry over a ruined pie trumped whatever had struck her in the moment. Declan blinked twice and stared cluelessly at her. He couldn’t tell if she was switching the topic to avoid whatever it was, or if it had genuinely been chased from her mind. 

“We were– I don’t– Are you okay?” He looked around half expecting someone from a prank show to jump out and scare him. 

“Other than ruining a perfectly good pie, I’m fine.” 

He nodded suspiciously and narrowed his eyes. 

“I think maybe I need to stay for a little while longer.” 

Although he took off his shoes at the door, he had yet to take off his jacket. Donna tried not to blush seeing his forearms covered in black tattoos. He had a bit of muscle, but not a lot. There was a definition if you squinted. She could only assume that’s because of his job. When she asked Roxy what he did for work she chirped happily about how he was a foreman at the mine in Minnesota. It really did seem like Declan and Roxy were proud of each other. 

“So, what exactly is in an oreo fluff salad?” 

“It’s actually super easy to make,” 

And when Declan couldn’t get out of bed, Roxy was far too worried about him. She did the exact same thing that Lila did. She called Donna. After trying a myriad of options, it was the only other thing she could think of. Roxy tried pulling her dad out of bed, tried coaxing him out of bed with beef jerky, tried tempting him about a fake hockey game. But nothing worked. 

When she looked at him she swore she saw a glimpse of herself and the times when she wouldn’t get out of bed, or would drag her feet around the house. Since she tried everything she could think of, the only thing left to do was wait. With her songbook open in front of her on the counter she mulled over the next new song for Big Time Rush, just because her dad was there didn’t mean she was exempt from songwriting. Not like she wanted to be exempt from that. She perked up when the door hinges squeaked and a pair of feet shuffled across the floor. Her dad looked like walking death. Well, he looked more like Donna did when they went over to her apartment. 

“Dad?” 

Declan only groaned in response and flopped face first on the couch. Roxy never really saw her father like this. The other times when he was sad she could always cheer him up with a doodle on the back of a takeout container with markers, but that was when she was six. When she was ten her singing never failed to make him feel better but not only could she not think of anything to sing, but she also didn’t believe in her ability to sing. James always told her she sounded lovely, but she couldn’t help thinking he was only saying that because they were dating. 

Earlier, to coax him out with a fake hockey game she did put on the sports channel. It played softly in the background but it seemed louder in the silence. Roxy bit the inside of her cheek and tapped her pencil. What would make her father feel better? Typically, he kept his emotions under tight wraps. She only wanted to do something for the man who did everything for her. 

The knock at the door had her out of her chair with lightning speed. 

The punk-rock singer looked to be doing much better. Her hair was brushed and she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, no burnt orange leather jacket in sight. But what caught Roxy’s attention was the silver tin she was holding in her hands resting atop the dark blue tupperware bowl. 

“What is that?” Roxy asked, a tad bit suspiciously. 

“Pumpkin pie, I made it a few days ago. I figured it was not only the right way to thank your dad for the oreo fluff salad, but also could be used to cheer him up.” 

“How did you know we liked pumpkin pie?” 

“I– I didn’t…” 

“What if he’s allergic?” 

“Roxy–” 

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Come on in.” Roxy laughed it off with a smile, opening the door wider. 

Declan sat up and leaned against the back of the couch. The smell of pumpkin pie perked him up a little. He didn’t remember the last time he had anything homemade before, other than the dinners he would experiment with for Roxy. The shadows on his face were darker and the stubble on his jaw and chin had grown out a little. He looked like a deflated balloon or a wet cat. 

“Donna? What are you doing here?” Declan squinted. He wanted to assume he was seeing things. Part of him always had a feeling that she wouldn’t come if he was upset for no reason. 

“I’m here to make you feel better,” Donna grinned from ear to ear. 

“I’ll just–” Roxy awkwardly excused herself, backing away into the hall and closing the door behind her. Leaving Donna, Declan, and the chatter from the sports channel. 

“What’s up?” 

Donna set the homemade pie on the marble counter and kicked her shoes off. She wasn’t entirely sure if Declan and Roxy did that, but it was the least she could do to be respectful. She wasn’t expecting him to be so quiet, but then again, she didn’t know what to expect. Donna had never encountered him when he was upset. She sat next to him on the couch, keeping a fair amount of distance. He was disheveled, to say the least. There was a faint smell of alcohol on him but she wasn’t going to comment on it. Just because she didn’t drink didn’t mean she didn’t want him to drink. It was his business. Donna just hoped he went about it responsibly. 

Declan leaned against her and she tensed up. His head fell gently on her shoulder, his unkempt hair tickled her neck and part of her jaw. She wasn’t used to the silence, but was starting to think he only wanted her there. He didn’t want to talk about it. If he needs her to provide comfort, then that’s what she’ll do. She leaned her cheek against the crown of his head and hesitantly intertwined their fingers. His palm was warm and slightly sweaty but Donna didn’t mind. Typically, the silence would irk her. Her mind would run in circles to occupy itself but yet, the silence didn’t bother her all that much. 

“I don’t know if you like pumpkin pie, but I thought I’d bring one over for you and Roxy.” She spoke softly, her eyes wandered to the sports channel on television but she didn’t pay attention. 

“Pumpkin pie is my favorite, and in a way I thought this matched when you brought over oreo fluff salad.” 

Declan adjusted himself so that he was sitting at a better angle, and for a moment his eyes fluttered closed. He listened to her voice, and as hungry as he was he tried not to pay attention to how his stomach gurgled. He only hoped she couldn’t hear it either. Part of him was glad she didn’t ask. It was enough that she even showed up. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles gently. At the moment, he was nursing a hangover. It wasn’t bad, and he never got blackout drunk but it was enough that his eyes were sensitive to light and loud noises would cause a headache. 

Donna turned her head slightly when she heard the door creek. She wasn’t sure how long she and Declan just sat there on the couch, but Roxy froze like a deer in headlights and smiled sheepishly. The girl closed the door as softly as she could and tiptoed to the marble counter. Her eyes lit up curiously at the circular silver tin covered with aluminium foil. Roxy could smell the pie and her mouth watered. Without thinking she slowly tried to unwrap it from its tin foil container but at the slightest sound of noise she pulled her hand away as if it were burning hot. 

It may not have been comfortable, but Declan ended up falling asleep on her shoulder. And after an agonizing amount of time Roxy was able to have the first slice of homemade pie. She sat down in the living room with them, leaving her songbook on the counter. The two left awake were content with the silence. Both Roxy and Donna cared about Dec in different ways, but perhaps this was one of their similarities. 

As much as Declan would move mountains for Roxy, she would do the same in a heartbeat.

[tgirlblogger]

Dear Diary,

CW: Eating Disorder, Self Harm

Today was okay. I just generally did nothing at school, and then did nothing at home, and that's fine. If I did one thing good today, it's been getting a knife. I've been itching to make another big mess, but I'll have to get to that in a month or so around March, I don't really have time right now. So I'll just have to subsist for now. I haven't actually used it, I think I'll use it in the washroom if I have time. I've got a pretty good hiding spot I think, it'll be really hard for them to try to steal it in my sleep, and it won't make too much sound while I'm retrieving it, so I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to cut in peace for once. I'm really not sure what it even does for me anymore, but I'll find out soon I guess.

Didn't throw up yesterday, it was a mix between simply not having the time and just not wanting to do so really. I don't know why, I'll have to throw up today, especially after the food I had. Since today was a half day, I had to eat lunch. We went to Costco and got the everfamous hot dogs. And yeah I'm wowed. I thought it was just the hotdog but its a hotdog and a drink with infinite refills for only a dollar fifty. Its pretty impressive all things considered. For dinner we went to some sort of sushi place, there was a lot of food yadda yadda. The problem with good food is that it is just so good to eat, but later in the shower or when you're changing you notice just how much weight you've gained, and its just such a horrible feeling. I really really try to just not look down whenever I'm not wearing thick layers of clothing. But also when I'm not wearing thick layers of clothing I'm also self conscious about my shoulders and all, so its another win for the dysphoria hoodie I guess. I feel like I'm entering a cycle where I throw up once, pat myself on the back, and then neglect to do so for another week, and then do it again and on and on and on. Like I don't really know how to reconcile trying to not be fatphobic but actively enforcing throwing up for no other reason than just for the purposes of being skinny. I really can't. If it was like a real mental disease then I probably could hide behind it, but like it really isn't. I have to fight and struggle to even maintain it, and like I don't really know how to tell myself I'm a good person. I just have to not think about it, but that just makes me a genuinely bad person. I don't have an excuse for myself.

Talking about cutting is really shitty after going on that little spiel about how I'm a bad person. Its almost manipulative, to try to make you and myself pity me. But I don't really have any good other things to say I guess. As of right now I just made 2 cuts, both to styro. I bandaged one wrong I think, there's some blood leaking through the bandage. I put a tissue over it and it stopped in only like 5 seconds, but I'm worried that the bandages I stole just aren't good enough to hold future cuts. And I do have to say. Cutting makes me feel good. Almost happy. Maybe even does something sexually, but lets not talk about that. Its also so terrifying to do. My parents can be perceptive when they feel like it, and even a tiny little drop of blood missed and they know. But I love cutting. I don't want to ever stop. Also, I may have misjudged how little sound that the hiding spot makes. We'll see. I think it'll be hard to try to get to it while I'm sleeping without waking me up though, so really we'll just have to see.

My parents have been getting super into politics recently. Not super recently, but like its just been nonstop talking about Trump and DEI and the 25% tariffs the last few days. Is DEI a new term? I swear I'd never heard of it until literally last month. Its annoying, since occasionally he'll bring up gender and whatnot, and like its breaking our unspoken agreement to not talk about me being trans and just silently hate eachother. For some strange reason, my dad is a devout follower and supporter of Trump. My mom's more of a center right person, she "supports the liberals, but lately they've just gone too left.". I think she protested against teaching sex-ed back when that was a big thing. But like what is extremely perplexing to me is that my father is like going to vote liberal next election. Because if Poilievre wins then he'll get fired. But he loves conservatism, and hates welfare. Even though he works for the government as a welfare guy. So thats strange but like whatever. I hope that he dies soon.

Been thinking a lot about NGE lately. It just gets better the more I think about it honestly. Not to be too generic but Shinji is literally me. Except for all the stuff that isn't me. But you know we've got some relatable qualities. And yeah, its a much better work if Shinji is a trans girl. The more I think about all my problems, the more I think it could all be solved with a little third impacting. I think that EoE is quite possibly the most hopeful thing that could ever happen for humanity. Like if you subscribe to the idea that everyone reforms after being LCL'd then like yeah its like a really hopeful ending and all that. World peace achieved. Honestly NGE is so good but Im just not a very smart person. I cant do analysis but I can know that its such a good piece of work and that just drives me to tears. I know Im not truly understanding the deeper meanings of it, but I need to.

Can't really think of much more to say. Bye I guess.

[according2thelore]

i just reread ur Love Potion no. 9 and now I’m thinking about es!dean cooking ls!sam a ribeye bc he has a KITCHEN here and ls!sam trying to make himself eat it <3 anyway love ur stuff so much

EEP! thank you anon! i love domestic winchesters so much, lol!

this idea crawled into my head and stuck there until i wrote it. this is humiliatingly long but thank you for the prompt!!! your brain anon!!!

mwah!! mwah!!! <3

the smell brings sam into the kitchen. younger dean is standing near the stovetop, shuffling dishes around. when sam clears his throat, about to ask what he's making, the kid jumps.

"are you making dinner?" sam asks, confused. dean picks up the dishtowel, wiping his hands. sam's younger self and older dean went out to get extra spark plugs for the old junker in the garage an hour ago, and sam was planning on reheating some takeout from the other night.

dean hasn't dropped the dishtowel, kneading it between his hands like he's trying to strangle it.

"yeah, y'know. grandpa told me that i--he--us. we? do a lot of the cooking."

sam rolls his eyes because dean has gotten in the habit of calling older dean 'grandpa' and 'the geezer' and 'ol dusty.' it's cute.

but gosh, the smell. sam's stomach roils. dean must see something shift on his face because he's quick to explain.

"d'you remember when we were stuck outsida asheville? and the only thing we had were those hotdogs?"

sam can't help but wrinkle his nose. he definitely remembers. dean had done everything he could do dress them up and make it different, but they went on a hotdog strike for months after, only choosing other food if they had a choice.

"i got real handy with the grill. that's...kinda the only gourmet cooking i've got under my belt. i asked, but. uh. anyway. i made you steak? a ribeye steak?"

it sounds like a question at the end and sam's stomach sinks because oh shit. dean made this. dean made this for me. sam looks over dean's shoulder, easier than it would be if dean were his older self, pounds of muscle not packed in yet.

that's where he's been. he's been in here since before the other two even left. cooking dinner. for sam. to eat.

it's not even a question of if sam's going to do it. because he is going to do it.

it's a question of how neutral can he make his face as he chokes it down.

and oh god, it's huge. the steak is as big as dean's face, and sam knows for a fact that he must have picked it out specifically, because dean did not have that thing in their fridge.

sam's stomach goes wobbly with the image of this little dean, trailing in aisles in the local grocery store with a hat pulled low over his eyes (like they had all agreed to do until this blew over), deciding which steak sam would like the best.

"oh wow!" sam says, trying to sound encouraging. "it's big."

dean flushes fourteen different shades of pink over a period of ten seconds, and yeah. sam sighs. he's going to eat the fucking steak.

six minutes later, after dean had pushed sam down into a chair and let his hand on sam's shoulder linger for two seconds longer than it should have--

(and really, dean is not smooth. sam wished he had known back in 2006 that dean was this easy to fluster because he would've fallen to his knees in shitty motel carpet ten years early and saved them all a lot of heartache.)

--sam is staring at easily sixteen ounces of meat. to dean's credit, it looks like it should feature on a grilling magazine or something. but all sam can smell is the slightly seared odour of flesh.

"and i heard that you like greens, so--" sam tears his eyes away and dean awkwardly balances a bagged salad in his hands. sam feels like crying. this is going to be a rough few minutes.

"share it with me," sam asks, begs really, but dean just shakes his head.

"nah, man. i made it for you. i've got one for me." and sure enough, sam's stomach sinks as dean brings over another plate to the table with a much more reasonably sized offering.

"great." sam says, smiling bleakly. his throat is clogged and thick when he swallows. he tastes acid at the back of his throat. they sit in silence for a few minutes while sam pops the salad bag, trying to frantically puzzle out how he's going to eat this thing.

he could eat it as fast as possible? give his nerves less time to process the hot skin sliding down his throat. but the chances of him throwing up would increase exponentially. he could chew and hide bites in his napkin? but dean would catch it.

sam's stomach sinks. he's going to have to chew it. and swallow it. and let it sit in his stomach. heavy and full. skin grease and meat tearing under his teeth. sam's mind whites-out with the memory of the cage, of being forced to eat his own thigh down to the bone.

"so..." dean asks, "how long have we lived here?"

sam looks up, and realizes that dean is gripping his beer bottle so tight that it looks like it might shatter in his hand. sam softens. kid looks like he's going to shit himself.

"you know i can't tell you that." sam chides. and he picks up his fork. he picks up his knife. he braces himself. and he cuts.

"and what are your...what are your plans?" dean asks, thirty minutes later. they've been talking back and forth, trading memories of things pre-2006. sam's been trying to keep this strictly common knowledge, and dean--unlike sam's younger self--takes it mostly in stride.

sam feels an automatic reflex to burp rising in his throat, and he locks his muscles as much as he can because if he feels the taste of aerosolized meat in his mouth again, he will vomit.

half the steak is gone, and dean's food is completely gone. he doesn't seem to be in any rush, and keeps giving sam more beer. sam keeps having to take sips after each bite to wash the taste away as soon as he can, so he appreciates it. dean seems more and more surprised that sam isn't letting more slip, and sam smirks to think of how much of a light-weight he used to be.

is dean trying to get him drunk? sam's kind of flattered, he thinks.

"my plans?" sam repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah. y'know. for the future."

sam looks at dean appraisingly. it could be a ploy for information, but for some reason, dean looks prematurely disappointed, like he's bracing himself for bad news. sam quickly takes another bite, thin enough that he can swallow it down without chewing at all.

"well." sam says, slowly. taking another swig of beer. "i've always wanted a dog. but--" he smiles. "'grandpa' says no. he's afraid it's going to get hair all over the car."

dean blinks at him. like he's waiting for something else. but when sam just stuffs another bite in his throat, dean cracks a hesitant smile.

"well. grandpa's very wise. i've always said so. dander is shit for leather."

sam smiles, rolling his eyes, when he hears footsteps.

"did someone grill out inside--" dean. older dean. he rounds the corner, and freezes when he sees the steak in front of sam. his younger self sitting across from him. "what the fuck?"

"dean, it's okay--" sam says, quickly, before dean can say anything, but dean is already storming across the room.

"did you eat this?" he demands, but before sam can say anything, dean whirls on his younger self. "he doesn't eat meat, jackass."

the younger dean blanches. "what? yeah he does. we eat burgers all the time."

"not my sam, one tree hill." dean turns around to face sam again. "are you okay?"

in truth, sam already feels the meat settling oddly in his stomach. he feels like he's going to be sick. but he just glares at dean instead, furious. the cage is sam's to tell--or sam's to bury, in this case. dean's tone is too acerbic for young dean to not pick up on the weight of it. it's clear from dean's tone alone that sam's aversion to meat is not a choice made on ethics.

younger dean looks like he's about to cry, sitting back in his chair. silence stretches for a second.

"give us a minute." sam snaps. dean flushes a furious shade of scarlet.

"what the hell? i'm not--"

"dean." sam says, cutting. dean peters into silence, and sam looks at both deans, one furious and one crestfallen. "he was doing something nice."

"by forcing you to--"

sam puts a hand on dean's, pushing the plate in his hands down. he makes eye contact, and sees the concern there. dean's never been good at letting sam take care of himself, and sam can already see how a version of himself 'hurting' sam is making him ready to start throwing punches. he softens.

"i'm going to be fine. let me handle this, please. i'll catch up with you later."

dean's mouth twists up in a snarl. "sam--"

"later." sam repeats, and dean growls something unintelligible as he storms out of the room. sam sags forward, finally allowing himself to process how full and ill he feels. how the alien flesh in his stomach feels revolting, thick.

"why didn't you say anything?" a quiet voice. sam looks up, smiling a genuine smile this time, and allowing it to look as weird as it probably does.

"i can't." sam says, apologetic. he's not going to tell dean anything about it. he can't know. dean rubs a hand over his face.

"i'm not used to not knowing you, sammy." he murmurs, looking sick. he looks so young that sam's chest contracts. what a sorry pair they make.

"you know me." sam reassures softly. "i'm your little brother."

dean looks up at him then, huffing an unamused snort. they look at each other for a long while, sam tracing the round curves of dean's face. his wide eyes. sam wonders what dean sees when he looks at him.

"yeah. okay." dean says, finally. "'m sorry."

sam shrugs. "how about we get outta here? there's a diner down by the movies that makes a mean veggie burger."

dean nods, still looking lost.

"they also make the best pecan pie in the state. we've checked."

dean snorts, and there he is: sam's big brother. young, and lost, but undeniably here, in the swoop of his bottom lip as he smiles.

sam's chest expands with his first full breath in almost an hour, and something else. something warm.

"i'll be the judge of that." dean says, cocky and all false-reassurance. sam wants to kiss him. but he stands instead, and nods towards the door.

"lead the way."

~~~

i saw something the other day that suggested veggie!sam was a hot take, and i think i'm only a partial veggie!sam believer. i think it comes and goes--he has good and bad days.

i can only imagine the cage made sam's relationship to consuming meat weirder. but who knows! thank you again for the prompt anon!!!

-lizzy

[ghestiewhore]

Hypnotic

Pairing: phantom ghoul x fem reader

Summary: your friend had invited you to a ghost concert, little did you know that would kickstart something much bigger

Warnings: smoking?

——————————————————

You were chilling at your house listening to music when your phone started going off. You didn’t answer the first time but after the 4th time you check who it was. It was your friend y/f/n. You answered the phone since it must’ve been important.

“Hey what’s up?” You spoke through the phone.

“Hey bestie, do you wanna go to a concert with me later tonight.” Your friend asks.

“I don’t know, who are we going to see?” You asked. You weren’t too big on huge gatherings.

“It’s a band called ghost their a metal band I feel like you’ll like them, plus I got two out tickets so we will be up close.” Your friend explains as you listen.

You had to think about it. You did enjoy metal but not on a Wednesday night when you have work the next morning. Your friend kept asking until you eventually gave up and agreed.

“YESS, go get ready I’ll be there around 7.” Your friend said before hanging up.

7 will give you an hour to get ready. Not that you necessarily had to dress up, you didn’t want to wear your stained shirt and old grandma shorts.

You look through your closet for a while until you found a cute black dress. You felt a plain black dress would be a safe option for a metal band you didn’t know about.

————————————————————————

7 had creeped up fast, luckily you were finished getting ready by the time your friend had arrived. You and your friend were now currently on the way to the concert. On the way there your friend has been trying to explain who is who to you so you’ll have a better understanding.

After about 30 minutes you had arrived at the stadium. You still had yet to figure out who’s who. You two walked into the venue and went on a hunt for the merch booths. When you realized they were all around you and just crowded, you and your friend had decided to just go get food instead.

There weren’t many food options, you guys had a choice between hotdogs or nachos, neither sounded too appealing at the very moment. You decided to just get a drink. As you were standing there waiting you were looking around and taking in the atmosphere around you. As you were gazing your eyes found their way to a guy, perched against the building with two other guys who were smoking cigarettes.

You couldn’t help but stare, they were all so beautiful. One made eye contact with you. You guys stared at one another for a good two minutes before his friend had patted him on the shoulder and they disappeared.

“Damn that was weird.” You said loud enough for your friend to hear.

“What was?” She asked while eating her hotdog.

“Me and this dude just made eye contact and it felt weird.” You tried to explain to your best abilities.

It wasn’t weird in the sense as you felt awkward it was weird in the sense you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

————————————————————————

Once your friend had finished her food, the two of you made your way to the pit. You were surprised, you guys were literally close enough to touch the stage.

Their opening band was currently playing. They weren’t too bad, you actually quite enjoyed them.

Once the opening band had finished and announced ghost will be on soon, the stadium filled up really quick. You were now squished up against the barrier on the left side of the stage.

All of a sudden the stage lit up and music starts playing and everyone screams. When the curtain fell you were met with a very close view of the band. You joined everyone else in screaming.

During the song mommy dust a ghoul with a black guitar came up right in front of you. You didn’t know how to react, it was like he was starring into your soul. He starts to reach his hand out at you so you do the same. His fingers gently glide over yours.

You felt weird, like you were in a trance. It’s like you became hypnotic. You soon after snapped out of it when he pulled away to continue playing guitar.

————————————————————————

While the boys went back stage for a minute phantom wrote down his number and socials on a piece of paper before wrapping it around a pick.

When they went out and played their last few songs he kept planning how he was going to give it to you. By the end of the last song he was excited. They bowed while many fans were leaving.

You stayed there next to your friend. You were chatting with your friend when a ghoul came up to you and handed you something. You accepted it with a smile and watched him walk away.

When you and your friend had left the venue you opened it. You were shocked. You showed your friend and she freaked out too.

“YOU HAVE TO CALL HIM” your friend yelled at you.

“I don’t know..” you replied unsure. You didn’t wanna seem weird.

“He gave you his number! He wants you to contact him.” Your friend tried to reason.

“I guess I’ll call him…” you said still slightly unsure.

You picked up your phone and dialed the number.

After 3 rings a guy picked up….

[rustycottoncandy]

I ate an apple for dinner today. It was so good. Apples, I love you.

I want to ask my parents to buy different kinds of fruit and make kinda like a fruit salad someday. As in — I wanna chop pears, apples, strawberries, bananas, oranges and tangerines into pieces and mix them in a bowl with blueberries, raspberries and grapes and have that as dinner or breakfast. I'll present the idea to them tomorrow.

I also want to mention something food-related I did two days ago that a friend of mine claimed to be probably the most autistic thing I've ever done. He wasn't trying to insult me or anything, by the way. I am autistic.

So the other day we went to a fair. Fair, carnival...? I've never really gotten the word in English but basically it was a place with a lot of attractions that one could ride to have fun. There were also stores to get food around the place. You could get anything from hotdogs to waffles. Cotton candy and candy apples were, of course, also an option.

I got a candy apple and waited until we got home to eat it because I wanted to consume it in peace. Now, the funny part is that I'd never really eaten a candy apple before. I tried to once but it just stayed in the fridge until it was no longer safe to consume.

I wasn't going to sleep before eating this one, though.

...

But how?

The candy they dipped the apple in was definitely too tough to bite through it, so that wasn't an option. I didn't consider chopping it into pieces, either. So what'd I do? My fucking brain came to the conclusion that candy apples were supposed to be kind of like lollipops and that if you wanted to eat the apple, you'd have to get rid of the candy layer first.

I got home at like 12AM and spent around four hours trying to get rid of the candy. I helped myself breaking some parts off with a knife too and then eating them as if they were separate candy.

It wasn't until I decided to look up pictures of candy apples and saw that they were cut into slices in the pictures that I realized I was eating it the wrong way.

I explained the situation to an online friend of mine and he claimed it as the most autistic thing I'd ever done. He also decided he'd be calling me by my real name and revoked my username privilege for twenty-four hours. I'm back to being Rusty to him now.

I chopped the candy apple into pieces after that and didn't take long to finish it. The candy layer was still present in some parts, I didn't manage to get it all off.

But yeah, that was funny.

[pbandjesse]

I really wish I could sleep at night and not wake up so often and breathe correctly. Because being so tired all day sucks. I feel a lot better right now but the majority of the day was really tough on me. Not ideal at all.

When I woke up at 9 I just didn't feel very good. I desperately wanted cereal. I literally had it in my dreams. I texted James and they went out to get cereal and orange juice for me. Which was super kind. They are such a good husband. I want for nothing, they always make sure I have everything I need.

While they were at the store I got up and made the bed and got dressed. Long dress and sweater combo continues to be the best outfit. I started with a fleece but it was just a little bit to much. It was soft but to fluffy.

I was waiting on the couch when James got home. I had two bowls of cereal. They were sitting at the island working on some notes and research for their podcast. But would eventually come and lay on the couch with me.

But I was feeling miserably exhausted. Just so tired. I told James I had to go upstairs and lay down. And they decided to join me.

It was nice being held. But all of a sudden there was a crashing sound from downstairs. Sweetp had knocked a pan off the stove, which also got the grate and it was very loud but not a huge deal.

James told me to go back upstairs. And when they came back up to join me they closed the curtains and I was out.

I don't even really remember them leaving at 11. And I slept through 1.

I did feel a little better when I woke up. Not for long but at least for a while I was okay. I tried to have a hotdog for lunch but we still don't have buns and the white bread kept sticking to my teeth and I just hated the entire meal. I had half the hot dog and gave up.

I laid on the couch. I tried doing my makeup. I switched bags. And around 230 I headed out.

I had a $10 voucher for Michaels so I went to buy some felt. I also got dunkaroos. I got back to the car and had my snack and headed to value village.

I completely struck out there though which was super frustrating. I was looking for blankets for making bears. And they only had 2 I would use but they were $9 a piece?! Insane. Plus the line was crazy long and a woman was yelling at the workers. The whole thing stressed me out so I just left.

I went to the goodwill down the street. I found two small pieces I could use but I found out I have 13 sign ups so I will have to go to savers or something tomorrow. We'll see what happens.

I spoke to my dad on the phone while I walked around the store. He told me my brother is doing better. Steve would even text me this evening to tell me he loves me. He did the same thing my whole family does and downplayed the whole thing. I understand no one wants to upset me but I can tell when they are holding back. It was nice to hear from him. And my dad. I saw a picture of my dad today and I'm he was looking good. Everyone needs to be healthy and strong and be here for my baby in the spring. That is the only acceptable option.

When I left the goodwill I could smell the Burger King across the street. I thought that would be nice. Sadly I was wrong. The woman at the register was really nice. But the food didn't make me feel good. I sat inside and ate and tried to eat slowly but I just felt super bad. It was not a good time.

I had thought about going somewhere else to waste more time before the event at the main but instead I just went straight there. Traffic was bad, there were a few accidents, but I got there around 5 in one piece.

I was happy to see James. And I went to find Jesse to discuss the print shop type. One of the volunteers sent an email that the tape I'm using could be damaging to the typeface. And I was super confused about that because it's not true? So me and Jesse went to look at the type tray I keep and it's all fine. I took all the tape off and there was no residue at all. I was pretty upset that someone would say I would do something to hurt the collection . But Jesse and Meagan (who also got the email from the volenteer) both know everything was fine with the type. And I spent most of the next half hour sorting all of the letters and making them all nice. Putting away anything else that I didn't use.

Meril would come in and she joined me in the print shop to gossip and catch up. Apparently she was really mad that someone accused me of doing something to damage the type. She was also included in the email and stuck up for me and it was super validating to know she was on my side. And it was just nice talking to her. Her sister is also pregnant and just found out she has gestational diabetes. Which sucks. I am more and more sure I'm going to test positive for that. Mostly because I am so wildly thirsty. I'm going to try eating more fruits and yogurts and lighter foods. It's hard when it's so cold out, but I think it'll help me feel a little better.

Meril would leave. I would say hello to friends around the museum. I checked out the mural. Which was the entire reason I came. It was really moving. I am very curious how they are going to display it long term in the musuem. I didn't sit in the audience when they had their panel. Instead I sat with James. It was nice just being with them while they worked. We talked a little bit mostly I just enjoyed being in their company.

I stayed there until 730. I was starting to feel a little unwell. And my eyes hurt. I got a package delivered and it was Christmas gifts so I was like let me go home and get these out away before James gets back. So I gave them a kiss and was off.

I got back here at 8. And sorted my gifts. And fed sweetp. And now I am sipping water and planning on getting a shower and getting in bed to wait for James.

Tomorrow I have my workshop in the evening. And so I'll spend the day preparing for that and resting. I think it will be a good day. I just really hope I sleep well tonight. Wish me luck. I love you all. Goodnight!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #418

I think the luteal phase of my cycle has finally stopped kicking my ass; from an emotional standpoint, I felt pretty good when I woke up today. Score! Exhausted, though; I'm bleeding a lot – I always do. It's all right, though. It'll pass. I'll eat lots of iron-containing foods in the meantime.

I felt really lucky today for two reasons. The first one is that, in response to yesterday's letter, a person who has been here alongside me (us? hm...) and reading along from the beginning gave me a bit of encouragement. Actually, they took the time to write a lot of encouragement; I was really grateful. This person seems to be smart and kind, and I feel grateful that they took the time and effort to write something so well-thought-out to me. I'm gonna try to make sure I consider their words properly; sometimes my inner monologue is a bit... bleak... so it's nice to have other words to help keep myself afloat.

This same person also drew a beautiful picture of you drinking a cup of my homemade broth. And another picture of you, in color, reading one of my letters. My world is chock full of people who love you; I hope you can see it.

J went to his shift today, so M and I went out to lunch. We went to a place that's a combination of a breakfast place and a hotdog/burger place. They claimed to have fresh lemonade, but it was really lemon juice concentrate mixed with water and sugar. Still, it wasn't half bad! I got a small bacon cheeseburger and a small sausage patty to go with it!

There were lots of folks working there, but there was one kindly lady and one kindly gentleman in particular. They both liked my rainbow axolotl hat. The gentleman jokingly asked if he could have it, haha! And the lady asked me about the plush I carry of you. I then showed her my favorite picture of your face, and explained to her that you're the reason I managed to live through my childhood.

This lady doesn't like video games, but even still, she said you are very handsome. I felt very glad in response to this.

...You're not a fucking monster. You're a human being.

A human being.

A human being.

At several points, you could see the people working there all wiggling joyfully to the radio and singing along. They didn't sing on key, and they didn't wiggle on rhythm, but it was still beautiful to witness. Actually... the fact that it was imperfect, and that they were doing it anyway without a care in the world... I think that made it even better.

...I think there's a lot to be learned from that. A lot to be learned and then meticulously applied to the self-consciousness that often holds me back in other places. Hm.

...Hey, Sephiroth? What kinds of things would you do if self-consciousness didn't hold you back? What songs would you sing? What rhythms would you dance to? What melodies would you cobble together on some instrument? What ideas would you write? What images would you draw and paint? What crafts would you weave with your own two hands?

...I want to see them. I want to understand them. I want to give thanks for their existence. I think it would be wonderful to be able to look at the things and smile and tell you how hard you worked to create the thing, and tell you how proud I am of you for doing it. So when you do try these things out, will you promise to show them to me?

I rested a lot when I came home. I tried to muster up the gumption to play some Hades or work on my weird crafting project, but... instead, I spent a non-trivial amount of time accidentally conked out with my face buried in Mogwai's fuzzy feline belly. I feel really lucky he let me do that. I feel really lucky that all of my cats let me do that. I hope you get to do something like that someday, too; it's a good feeling to be trusted to such an extent.

I recently discovered that An likes crows and magpies. And, at some point today, while browsing the wild intert00bz, I came across this image:

I thought it was delightful, and I thought of An immediately, and so I sent it along, hoping it would make him laugh! I felt really happy when he told me later that he liked it! Yay!

Oh!!! You don't have the context to understand why that last entry is so funny. It's supposed to be read to the rhythm and melody of a part of a popular song in my world! The lyrics to the part of the song go like:

------- You've been hit by— You've been struck by— A smooth criminal -------

...You know what. Maybe it's just easier if I show you the song so you can understand. The lyrics are depressing, but... the song itself is catchy. Though I'll warn you, the video is very... American... in a strange and silly and vaguely threatening sort of way:

The singer's name is Michael Jackson. For a long time, he was widely regarded as one of the most skilled dancers and musicians my planet had to offer. His story is horrifyingly tragic, though. All people break when they must withstand abuse and exploitation without support.

I heard him for the first time when I was very little, watching a movie called Free Willy. It's about an orca who was stolen from his family in the ocean. At the same time, an orphaned boy named Jessie was caught vandalizing the aquarium where the orca, now named Willy, was held. Jessie was made to clean up his graffiti, and as he did so, he watched them struggle to get Willy to perform tricks for the crowds visiting the aquarium.

Of course Willy wouldn't perform; he missed his family, and being stolen from the wild and enslaved as an entertainer is horrifying, full stop. Nonetheless, Jessie and Willy bonded. And then the upper management, impatient with Willy's lack of performance and non-generation of money, decide to sabotage the tank to kill Willy to collect insurance money.

...In a way, it kind of mirrors what happened to Michael Jackson. In a way, it kind of mirrors what happened to you. To have the potential for wholesomeness stolen away from you, then to be enslaved, and then to be disposed of when no longer useful... it's... a shockingly common story in my world. And in yours, too, it seems.

In any case, the plan to kill Willy was discovered partway through, though, so Jessie and the other aquarium workers worked together to get Willy out of the tank and return him to the wild.

Free Willy was my favorite movie for a long time, and it prompted within me a love of cetaceans and the water. The opening song for Free Willy is this one, and it was my favorite song for a very long time:

...Now that I'm older... it's not lost on me that Mr. Jackson is dressed in the same colors as the orca that was enslaved for entertainment purposes. It's not lost on me that his movements mirror the ones the orca made. And... I know now what it means, and watching it again for the first time in a long time with eyes that are more aware... I almost wanna cry.

...All we have left of him now is all these videos of his performances – who he pretended to be on the stage. He spent his whole life inspiring others and making other people smile and giving them reasons to dance and laugh and feel joy, but... no one except those who were closest to him have any idea who he was as a human being, and... I think that's really sad.

There's a longer version of the song elsewhere, and it has a section that goes like this:

------- In our darkest hour, in my deepest despair, will you still care? Will you be there? In my trials and my tribulations, through our doubts and frustrations... In my violence... in my turbulence... through my fear and my confessions... In my anguish and my pain... through my joy and my sorrow... In the promise of another tomorrow... ...I'll never let you part, for you're always in my heart. -------

Sephiroth. No matter what... you're only human. And yes... you'll find people who will be there for you, through all the things. I'm right here. And if I'm not suitable, there are plenty of others out there, too.

From this movie, Michael Jackson was my favorite musician as a young child, but since everyone thought that only losers liked him, this became something else that ostracized me from my peers. And then the abuse started, and... eventually, my favorite song of his became this one instead:

...I used to listen to that one on repeat on my CD player, on the car ride to my father's house, when I was forced to go visit him and my stepmother on the weekends, after I was taken out of their house. I'd put on my headphones and set it to maximum volume so that I wouldn't have to listen to my stepmother tell me all about what a filthy, horrible, revolting person she thought I was for the entirety of the 30-40 minute car ride.

Nowadays... I like this one best:

...You can do this work. You, who was once a victim of lovelessness, can rise up into change. Every day, I am rising up into change, defying my old instincts and conditioning, and trying to crawl up out of the darkness that the people who wished I was never born tried to bury me in. You can crawl up out of the darkness that the people who wished to exploit you tried to enslave you in. So take my hand, and let's give you better songs to sing inside your heart, okay? We can do it together!

...Well anyway. I guess that's all I've got for today. I'm not sure what I'll do now. Maybe I'll work on my crafting project. Maybe I'll play some more Hades. Either way, you'll find me here:

...I love you. Not for who you pretend to be when the world is watching. But for you. For the soft, sweet, kind person you are, despite everything that tried to break you.

Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[tainted-by-skeletons]

Reader X Affection-phobe Sans (One Shot)

I've been dating my neighbor Sans for almost a week now. He's never seemed interested in being intimate with me, other than the fact that he's dating someone like me in the first place. I've been wanting to get physical with him but the most I can get out of him are sweet little pecks when nobody is looking. I thought that he was just uncomfortable with PDA so I had Papyrus stay the night somewhere else. And yet, Sans insisted on sleeping on his couch that night. So no luck there. Some days I can't hold myself back.

“Sans.”

“Yeah Babe?”

“Come kiss meee~” I said one day while we were sitting on the couch.

“Um! Er… it's uhh- it's awkward when you ask like that you know.”

I frowned at him.

“Then just close your eyes okay?”

Sans looked away for a moment, then looked back at me and closed his eyes tight like he was waiting to be slapped.

“Hey! Don't do that! You look like you're expecting me to hit you!”

Sans sighed.

“You know… you've got some bad taste.”

“What?! Where is that coming from?”

“Heheh. I really like you but. Out of all the monsters ya could have gone after, why me? I'm like, the only person who can't give you what ya want.”

“It's not like that at all. I don't know how to explain it but… ever since I met you I've always been really… curious about you. I guess. It's like, I don't know… there's just something I want to figure out about you.”

“So what's gonna happen when ya do figure it out?”

“I have a feeling there's always gonna be something to be curious about. I just… I want to always find out more about you.”

Sans turned away from me again. He had a strange half smile on his blushing face.

“I have an idea. Meet me in your room after dinner.”

“Uh… mmmokay. When did we decide you're staying for dinner?”

“Now.”

“Oh boy.”

I snuggled up to Sans and was happy to receive an awkward arm around my shoulder. We watched TV for a bit longer before Sans made us both hotdogs for dinner.

“It's a good thing you're not picky.”

“Picky would not be your problem. You don't know this but I come over for dinner rarely because I can't handle eating all the junk food you do.”

“It's a good life.”

“Hahaha jerk.”

We finished dinner and as always, Sans took my dishes before I could even consider washing them.

“You uhhh. Wanted to do something. Right?”

“Yup! I'm gonna go get ready.” I said before bolting up the stairs, giggling along the way.

When I went inside Sans’ room, I took off my usual clothes and put on a skirt I left at his place, one of his T-shirts, and one of his hoodies. I took off only one sock and found a shoelace to use as a sort of headband. Then I turned off the lights. With Sans’ blackout curtains, it made the room completely dark when the lights were off.

“Saaaans! You can come up now!”

Not long later I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and then towards the room.

“Don't turn on the light.”

“What?”

Sans opened the door and I hid behind it.

“Don't turn on the light. We're going to play a game.”

“Uhhh. 'kay.”

“First try to find me.”

“Heheh. Alright.”

Sans walked around the room blindly with his hands held out in front of him. Eventually I felt his shoulder brush against my arm.

“I'm right here.”

“Yeah I can hear ya grinning.”

“Hehehehehe~”

Sans patted my chest once or twice before he realized what he touched and jumped back.

“Sorry!”

“It's okay! Really. You're gonna have to touch me to play the game.”

“Uhhh. What are we doing?”

“You're going to guess what I'm wearing just by touch!”

“Hmmm… You're not gonna jump my bones or anything right?”

“Hahaha! No! Come on! Humor me.”

“Ahhh… alright.”

To make it easier on himself, Sans started with my feet.

“Heheh. Are ya only wearing one sock?”

“Yup! You got it! What are you…”

The one type of affection Sans never hesitated to give was…

“Ah! Hahahaha hey stop!”

Tickling.

“Heheh. Alright alright.”

Sans slid a hand up my leg. I gasped quietly as my skin felt a tingle rise up my body.

“Mn. Is this your skirt?”

“Mnhm.”

I heard Sans’ knees pop as he rose up to stand. He stumbled a little and grabbed my hips hard. His head fell into my neck. I was able to keep us upright, thankfully. Sans was very light. Sans stepped in between my legs and moved his hands up to my waist to stand again.

“Sorry…” He whispered into my neck.

“Y…You're okay.”

Hands still pressed against my waist, Sans stood completely still for a moment. Still other than the subtle shaking.

“Why are you so scared of affection?”

“I'm not!-*sigh* I have no idea. Okay?”

I took his hands in mine.

“I'm not going to be disappointed.”

Sans was silent. He let our hands fall and let go. I didn't know what he was going to do. So I was very surprised when I felt firm hands hold around my waist. Then they let go as Sans let out a soft,

“Hm.”

And he felt around the soft fluff on his signature hooded jacket.

“Hey… are you wearing my jacket?” Sans' voice was a little quieter than usual.

“Yeah. There's other stuff too.”

Sans went back to my waist again and rubbed the shirt fabric in his fingers.

“Is this my shirt too?”

“Yeah. You're good at this game.”

“Heheh. It's not hard. Did I get everything?”

“Nope. There's still one thing you haven't even felt yet.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Sans slowly moved his hands up my torso, pressing into my ribs. I wasn't surprised he was curious about them. Sans moved his hands to the front before he reached my neck, barely grazing over my breasts. I had to hold in a gasp to avoid him getting worried. Sans felt around my bare neck until he was sure he couldn't find anything. Then he finally moved up to my head.

“What’s this? A ribbon?”

“No.”

“Is it… a jacket string?”

“No. Don't worry. I wouldn't take out your jacket string.”

Sans played with my hair with his other hand while he guessed. It took him a while.

“Haha. It's a shoelace?”

“Yup!”

“You weirdo.”

“Hehehehe!~”

“Heheh.”

To my surprise, Sans put his hands on my waist again. Eager for closeness, I stepped towards him carefully.

“You know… I can actually see your eyes.”

“Yeah? The little white lights?”

“Yeah. I didn't know they could actually glow in the dark. Er… hehe I mean like. I didn't think they were really… lights! You know?”

“Hmhm~ yup. They glow. Do they creep you out?”

“I feel like they should… but they don't. I like seeing you… knowing you're here.”

Slowly, the lights disappeared. I heard a soft rustle as something pressed against my lips. I closed my eyes and kissed Sans. This wasn't his usual peck. He didn't immediately pull away like usual. I could feel the warmth of his face and I could feel how his mouth was just a little bit open. As if he was communicating that I could explore if I wanted. So I did. I curiously poked his bottom lip with my tongue.

“Mn…” A soft almost worried sound escaped Sans.

But his hands gripped my waist tighter and he pulled me into him. He inhaled long and hard. Like he was getting ready to hold his breath for however long he needed to. By instinct, we tilted our heads and pressed into each other. Kissing so deeply felt amazing. There's something I love about intimacy. When you feel like your body is melting into the other person's to become one for a moment.

“Mmmmmn~”

I wrapped my hands around Sans’ neck as he softly nipped my bottom lip. I playfully licked the side of his mouth in response. Then he finally decided to start really exploring. Slowly, Sans' tongue entered my mouth like a snake coming out of his hiding place after the longest sleep. I was so excited I closed my lips around his tongue and sucked on it. Begging for more contact. More intimacy.

“Mmmnn!”

Sans' moan reverberated against my lips and left them feeling tingly. Suddenly he grabbed my waist and back and held me tight against him as his tongue reached deeper into me. Our heads moved up and down in sync. We twisted and swapped positions in order to explore every part of the other. Biting, sucking, licking. Until we ran out of breath.

“Haaah~” I sighed.

“Can we…” Sans started. “Play this game again sometime?”

[wjehfshs]

Some head-canons for cod characters while I work on a request and I’m at a family birthday party

Kinda suggestive on Keegans part, mentions of alcohol and smoking

Gaz

Held his mums hand in public until he was 17

Mamas boy

Had the type of father son relationship where they would play catch outside

Hot chocolate >> coffee

Absolutely terrified of kids but kids are all over him when he’s out in public or anywhere with kids

Whenever he got face paint as a kid at birthday party’s or something he always either got a tiger or Spider-Man

Gaming nerd

Constantly worried for Price because Price smokes

Most in tune with pop culture and social media

Has a tik tok account with 40K followers

He just posts training videos and self defence and people eat it up (people meaning me)

Pretty average childhood

First job was at a hotdog stand when he was 16

Ghost

Goes mute on rare occasions

Complete opposite of Gaz, loves kids but they’re terrified of him

Was a hot wheels kids but considering his childhood he would always just play with his friends hot wheels

Autistic

Secretly really attached to Price in a father son way but would rather die than admit it

Body is a HEATER. Literally never cold always complaining about how it’s hot

Insomniac (probably a trauma response but we don’t talk about that)

Joined the military to feel stronger than his father but stayed because he actually enjoyed it and made friends

On the rare occasion he does sleep he’s out like a light for at least 10+ hours

Type of kid in high-school to have no friends but didn’t care

Price

Favourite food is a scone

Scotch drinker

Trying to quit smoking for Gaz but struggles, needs a stress reliever from time to time

Body is also a heater but not as bad as Ghost

Was a sports kid in high-school

Kids are all over him and constantly think he’s like 97, he doesn’t mind tho he’s like a father

Typa dad to play catch with his kid

Recovering alcoholic

Very much popular nice kid in high-school. Everyone loved him and he got good grades

Sneezes like an explosion went off

Probably needs glasses to read

Soap

Basically deaf, “Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Kids hate him and he hates kids he likes it that way

Ate straight up mud and worms as a kid

Eats cereal RELIGIOUSLY

Body feels cold but he’s always saying how hot it is

Typa guy to walk an old woman across the street

Has a god awful amount of hair gel that he doesn’t even use because his hair defies gravity

Plays the bagpipes but not very well

Wakes up first. Without fail.

Ate dog food as a kid

No one touches the Mohawk (except Ghost)

Has a tik tok but like 72 followers and he gets so excited when he gets over 10 likes, he shows Gaz and Gaz doesn’t wanna break his heart by telling him that’s really not a lot

Loses his train of thought mid sentence

König

Also goes mute sometimes

When he gets too anxious and someone tries to talk to him and he’s not mute he’s speaking German and German only

Cold, all the time

Bounces his leg when he sits

Cant sleep properly for shit

Cuts his own hair because he hates having to communicate to people

His first birthday present was a fake crown from his parents

Kind of kid to hide behind his parents legs when he was little

Doesn’t drink or smoke or anything because it makes him sick

Likes soup idk why he just likes soup

Animal person but he’s so scared of hurting them especially really small animals like kittens

Gets sunburnt really easy

Sleeps with 5 thick blankets + 1 weighted blanket

Like soft fluffy things

Has to sometimes make his own clothes or blankets considering his size

Had a childhood cat that he considered his best friend

Keegan

Calls everyone who’s younger than him “kid” even if they’re just an hour younger or smth

Swears he’s a good driver (he’s canonically not)

Bit of a perv honestly (by bit I mean very much). He’s not creepy or anything just dirty minded

Was a Lego kid

Avoids children like the plague

Drinks beer but ever rarely

Also chronically cold

Was always the cooler older cousin

Like his steak burnt to a crisp

Spicy food enjoyer

Also good with pop culture and social media

Has a Twitter with 60K followers

Posts stuff in tactical gear

Knows what he’s doing if you know what I mean

Listens to metal

Also likes playing games

Really really nice hands

Ok that’s it for now. Can you tell I like Gaz and Keegan the most? Yeah. I want them

It’s so cold outside rn wtf

[djeterg19]

I'm back and reading chapter 9 of the Sign book. Much more focus on the investigation this chapter.

We start with Tharn making breakfast. Same as the show but he's alone eating a fried egg, hotdog, and toast. He is not a very good cook so he sticks with simple foods. He gets a text from P'Mhor which is the doctor(I'm far too proud that I realized Prem was using this for Ten in Cooking Crush today) asking to meet for lunch but Tharn tells him he'll probably be busy with the case. Chalotorn insists on taking him out to celebrate if he does have time later. This makes Tharn smile because he likes free food.

The DSI dress code is a black or dark suit with white shirt and...yeah I wish we got that in the show. Billy and Babe would look so good in suits. Or that may just me having a thing for men in suits. Tharn thinks he's 5 minutes early but everyone is already there when he gets to the meeting room and the captain tells him he's late.

There are a bunch of different forensic officers in the room being introduced. The head of forensic medicine went to high school with the captain. They have several different teams but they are missing toxicology as they won't be joining for several days. After all the intros, Tharn noticed a forensic scientist standing by himself so Tharn introduced himself. The man says his name is Vito and they are called back to their separate teams.

As Tharn heads back, he suddenly feels an icy cold sensation at the base of his neck causing his hair to stand on end and makes him feel like he's being touched. Phaya notices and tries to get him to move back to the conference room but Tharn can hear something. A whisper or buzzing that he shouldn't be able to hear but does. Something no one should be able to hear but somehow Tharn is able to.

Tharn is finally snapped out of his daze by the captain who is very unhappy with him. He goes to sit but she makes him come over to her instead. She smacks him with a folder and says he embarrassed her and that he's acting like he's not ready to work. He apologizes and she tells him to go back to his seat. Phaya asks if he's ok and he nods.

They divvy up the work of who is going to interview all of the victims of the murdered men. They have a tablet thing with all of the relevant info for each victim. They call them Kinds because they are like modified Kindles. Everyone leaves and Tharn thinks Yai follows to check that he's ok but no he lectures him about being late and tells Phaya to take care of him.

Tharn hears the voice again but this time he can make out what's being said: help him. Please help him. And Phaya is thinking of his dream the night before.

They get to their victims house and she is less than cooperative. She doesn't want to answer their questions as it brings up too many bad memories of the past. She has a daughter from the assault. They ask to speak with the daughter but she starts yelling at them and slams the door in their faces. So they go visit the daughter at school instead. She also doesn't want to talk but something about her makes Tharn suspicious that she's hiding something. Phaya agrees but they don't have enough to do more now.

They get back to the office and report everything to Singh and Thongthai. Yai brought in one of the victims he talked to because they were acting suspicious. As they are all discussing things, the captain brings in a woman draped in a red dress. It's a woman from one of the photos in Phaya's wallet. Phaya is not thrilled to see her and asks for Tharn's help.

They go into the visitor room and the woman bumps Tharn out of the way to get to Phaya. She wants to have lunch with Phaya but Phaya puts his arm around Tharn's shoulder and winks at him. The woman starts whining and begging. Phaya insists he can't go to lunch with her and that she promised she would stop bothering him after they broke up. Some grossness about how they had sex when he was drugged and of course he couldn't resist a woman that served herself up when under the influence.

Phaya and Tharn go out to lunch and Tharn calls Phaya daddy again. Anyways Tharn can't undo his seatbelt so Phaya has to help him. Phaya realizes how much Tharn looks like Vanvisa close up. He puts his hands on Tharn's cheeks and then under his chin saying. Tharn asks what the hell he's doing and Phaya says that he looks so much like her. Tharn asks like who but they are of course interrupted by Chalotorn. He asks if they are ok because they stayed in the car for so long. They say no they were just talking. Chalotorn takes Tharn's hand and Phaya watches as they walk into the restaurant. Phaya wonders why the doctor doesn't like him.

[guvato]

Tamalog Day 6

We started the day at 7AM, i went to bed and before sleeping i fed everyone, Picochutchi wasn't very hungry but she was bored, so we went to the Arcade and played quite a lot, i played until her Happy bar was full, fed her a Cactus Steak and called the Sitter to look after her while i slept. On the Pix, Haretchi evolved to Himetchi, i was quite surprised cuz i spent all day yesterday waiting for her to evolve, but she only evolved this morning, but hey, no biggie. As soon as Himetchi woke up, we went to the restaurant and she had Pancakes for breakfest, then, we went to the Arcade and since today's theme is nature, we picked some fruits and she flew on the Rocket, i then called the Sitter and went on to wake up Milktchi. Milktchi was quite hungry early in the morning and only had one Cheese Dog left, so we went shopping and bought pretty much everything in the shop, she had 1 Curry and 1 Quiche, then i gave her some pets until she was Maxed out and went to sleep.

Waking up at 1PM, knowing two Tamas were safe with the Sitter, i went straight to the Smart to check on Milktchi, she was Sick, i became extremely worried since i thought i had miscalculated something and y'know, care mistakes are a bad sign, so i went to look and apparently it was due to poop, though her fondness meter was pretty low, enough for her to be sad at the top right corner, her food meter was as 3/6, so i believe her sickness was really due to her pooping while i slept and i took too long to clean it, gotta watch out for that. The rest of the afternoon was pretty chill, i gave them food whenever they were hungry, played a bit with each of them and did my daily prize draw which Himetchi got 1st place and won 200G, we also explored on the Pix and Tama Searched on the Uni, making really good progress on both of em, i also cooked a Hotdog on the Pix using my leg and the arm of a chair, i am trying to take my time with the Pix's features, cooking one food a day and trying to explore once at different locations to also take some photos of many places with different Tamas, it's been really fun. Picochutchi said 2 days jn a row that the Antenna is working fine which is great, i wonder what would happen if it didn't work, she sang a song for me at 5PM which is just too cute and i love it, we also went to the garden where Rinsetchi was hanging around, she played with it a bit and them went on with her day. Milktchi went to TamaWork and did some dancing since we blew all her Gotchi Points with food, and having the money to restock when she goes out of food is a strategy i often employ, just making sure i don't have her eating Onirigi all day cuz i was too lazy to play at the arcade that day, i also discovered today (about 4 months of running the Smart every day mind you) that there IS a Sitter option on the Smart, it's the second option in the Care menu, 'Rusuban' which means roughly 'House-sitting', and oh boy, do i feel bad i didn't know about that sooner.

Come night time, Picochutchi went into the tamaverse, displayed her new outfit and played the first match of the Wave Riding event playing for the Macarón team, which first impressions are really good, probably my favorite TamaVerse game since Dragon Jump, and we placed 1st baby oh yeah, after that we gave our Tama Friends some hearts i left her to do whatever cuz she was doing good already. Himetchi was okay so i let her just chill a bit, just gave her a bath and she cleaned the house, when i least expected it, she went to sleep. Apparently the Pix works from 7AM to 8PM, which aye, fair enough, it has too many things to do so i don't mind them going to sleep pretty early, better too cuz less battery usage i guess? idk. Milktchi had more Curry and some Nikujoga, used the Cleaning Robot to tidy up the house and took a bath, after that she asked me for help to fall asleep and went to sleep. Before going to sleep i fed Picochutchi some ham sandwiches and just like the others, gave her a bath and cleaned the house, she then just went to sleep peacefully probably feeling like the MVP of the day, as she was the number 1 Wave Rider for this Tama Day.

[contentwithit]

Crohn's disease. My story.

I'm 42 and was diagnosed at 8 years old. The time up until diagnosis was troubling as an 8 year old I would eat something and in ten minutes it would have moved through me; I lost 20 pounds. At 8 years old you lose 20 pounds and you can see most of your bones, you look like the starving kids the show on the tv when they ask for money. My parents were grasping for anything to help all along, natural path experts did allergy tests, doctor said "oh he's just lactose intolerant" finally threatening lawsuit they referred me to the children's hospital, after tests and more tests they decided on crohn's and started with pednizone.

Pednizone is a steroid, it has side effects aggression, increased appetite, and healing. I remember coming home from school one day and eating 5 Hotdogs with buns and everything, and I clearly remember still being hungry but we were just out and that was an after school snack not dinner which I also ate. I remember just wanting to wrestle and fight which was a new energy for me after being so sick that all I was doing was laying down and thinking I'd eventually die. Harsh thoughts for an 8 year old.

At the time I was also taking Sulfasalazine a 5mg folic acid supplement as Sulfasalazine robs your body of folic acid or so I remember them telling me. Sulfur drugs were the goto treatment at the time early 1990's

About 8 years of treatment later things went south again, though having diagnosis mean it didn't go so drastic before they switched things up, immuran or Azathioprine and I believe Mesalamine was my second treatment. It held me until 19/20 when I had my first and so far only resection done. Taking about a foot or so totally between my large and small intestine they also took my appendix because they were in there might as well. I have a 10 inch scar up my stomach.

That was my first true remission I felt right, I pooped solid, I was a real person for a good 2 or 3 years it was magical. Then the back slide happened, as time went on things got worse again but still manageable.

I went vegetarian and it helped to, it was good for me as I kind of was a picky eater as a kid so the only thing I don't eat now for the most part is tomatoes osyters and olives.

Things started getting bad again but humira was something that started it didn't feel like it helped much but it probably kept me from backsliding more and then I developed immunities.

Started remicade and was a couple years not much help then immunities developed, after going off that my joints all seized for 6 months by the end of a day I couldn't close my hands everyday and I was hardly able to walk normally but I powered through.

Currently stelara. It's been a rough year and as you may see I'm trying restrictive diet of less meals to hopefully turn things around, which is helping me enjoy my days but is not really sustainable but fasting isn't meant to be permanent but it's still helpful.

That's most of my crohn's story 34 years and still alive, still working a full time job, still waking up everyday, I have a family of my own.

[ammg-old2]

Yevgeny Prigozhin was born in Leningrad, now St Petersburg, in 1961, nine years after Putin. His father died when he was young; his mother worked in a hospital, Prigozhin has said. The young Prigozhin was sent to a sporting academy, where daily activities often involved hours of cross-country skiing.

He didn’t make the cut as a professional athlete, and after finishing school he fell in with a crowd of petty criminals. Court documents from 1981, seen by the Guardian and first reported on by the Russian investigative outlet Meduza, tell the story.

One evening in March 1980, during the dreary tail-end of Leonid Brezhnev’s rule over the Soviet Union, the 18-year-old Prigozhin and three friends left a St Petersburg cafe close to midnight and spotted a woman walking alone along the dark street.

One of Prigozhin’s buddies distracted the woman by asking for a cigarette. As she went to open her purse, Prigozhin materialised behind her and grabbed her neck, squeezing until she lost consciousness. Then, his friend slipped off her shoes while Prigozhin deftly removed her gold earrings and pocketed them. The quartet sprinted off, leaving the woman lying on the street.

It was one of many robberies that Prigozhin and his friends carried out in St Petersburg over a period of several months, the court found. He was sentenced to 13 years in prison, and spent the rest of the decade behind bars, missing the death of Brezhnev and Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika. He was released in 1990, as the Soviet Union was in its death throes. He returned to St Petersburg.

The city was on the brink of monumental transformation, with great riches awaiting those shrewd or violent enough to seize them. Prigozhin started out modestly, selling hotdogs. He mixed the mustard in the kitchen of his family apartment.

“We made $1,000 a month, which in rouble notes was a mountain; my mum could hardly count it all,” he told the St Petersburg news portal Gorod 812 in 2011, one of his only ever interviews.

But Prigozhin had his sights set higher than fast food, and he knew how to make the contacts he needed. “He always looked for people higher up to befriend. And he was good at it,” said the businessman who knew him in the 1990s.

Before long, Prigozhin owned a stake in a chain of supermarkets, and in 1995 he decided it was time to open a restaurant with his business partners. He found Tony Gear, a British hotel administrator who had previously worked at the Savoy in London and was now at one of St Petersburg’s few luxury hotels.

Prigozhin hired Gear to manage first a wine shop, then his new restaurant, the Old Customs House, on St Petersburg’s Vasilievsky Island.

Initially, the Old Customs House employed strippers as a way to drum up clientele, but soon word got out that the food was excellent, and the strippers were dismissed. Gear focused on marketing the eatery as the most refined place to eat in a city that was only just discovering fine dining. Pop stars and businessmen liked to eat there, as did St Petersburg’s mayor, Anatoly Sobchak, who sometimes came with his deputy, Vladimir Putin.

Gear, who still lives in St Petersburg, declined an interview request. He has previously expressed admiration for Prigozhin but described him as a “very strict” boss, who would even use a special light projector to look for dust under tables each morning, to check the cleaners had worked properly.

Back in the 1990s, Prigozhin did not mention in conversation that he had spent a decade in prison, those who knew him say. He turned on the charm to make the acquaintance of his new high-flying customers.

“He can adapt to please any person if he needs something from them. That is definitely one of his talents,” said the businessman who knew him at the time.

In one of post-Soviet Russia’s more unusual friendships, Prigozhin struck up a camaraderie with the famous cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, who had emigrated from the Soviet Union in the 1970s.

When Rostropovich hosted the queen of Spain at his St Petersburg home in 2001, Prigozhin provided the catering. Rostropovich even invited Prigozhin and his wife to a gala concert at the Barbican, part of the London celebrations of his 75th birthday in 2002, according to London Symphony Orchestra records of the invitation list for the event.

By that time, Putin had become Russia’s president. During the early years of his rule, Putin often liked to meet foreign dignitaries in his home town, and he sometimes took them to the Old Customs House or to New Island, a boat Prigozhin had turned into a floating restaurant.

Going back over photos of Putin’s official engagements from the period is like playing a game of Where’s Yevgeny, with frequent sightings of Prigozhin in the background, unsmiling and unobtrusive. Here he is lurking behind the table as Putin dines with George Bush; there he is hovering behind Prince Charles at a 2003 reception in St Petersburg’s Hermitage museum.

“Putin saw that I wasn’t above bringing the plates myself,” Prigozhin has said. It was the start of a relationship with the Russian president that would grow and metastasise in unexpected ways.

[bilbobagginshome]

A Deadbeat’s Journal 23

A Jotaro Kujo x blackreader! fic

1 May 20XX,

 To be extremely fair, this is what I wanted but not what I expected. I love Brazil. I especially love how familiar Brazil feels to me. For a minute, looking into the distance, I see home. Though the illusion fades whenever someone speaks Portuguese to me and I have to go “eu não entendo” (I don’t understand) and then they begin speaking English to me like how embarrassing! Like it’s genuinely giving tourist vibes and I hate how I seem like a target to scammers now.

Also the gunshots?? I’ve heard gunshots before but gosh, are they always that loud? Patience was introducing me to some of her colleagues in the organisation she’ll be working with and tell me why I heard blaring police cars racing armed mafiosos that are just shooting up the streets with no disregard. Like, they definitely don’t make those kinds of moves in the richer areas.

Speaking of the inequality gap, can we just talk about race for a brief moment? I always knew I was black but damn after the tenth neighbour looked me up and down in the public pool area of the apartment complex, I noticed that all the scowlers were a bunch of wrinkly red-toned white people. Rather than minding their business and investing in some proper sunscreen, one of them even had the audacity to call apartment security and I think their saggy skin dropped in shock when they found out we are renters just like them. Mind you, they said something about favelas and only played nice when they found out we aren’t even Brazilian. When the people of Rio have their next protest, you best believe I’m front and centre.

Aside from that one instance though, the people here are a lovely bunch. I mean in the evenings when we got out of Patience's new office buildings, you see women dancing with blaring speakers and children playing football or even having mini dance competitions and I have to say, I did put my best foot forward courtesy of Step Up (The office mob dance scene is a part of my consciousness) But when it came to b-boying, I was ate up, no crumbs. Abdul however, managed to moonwalk his way through victory and Patience practically spit at the face of her ancestors with her atrocious freestyle.

Then we headed to the food stalls and I’m sorry to say this but Kenyan street food DOES NOT compare. I mean, who even thinks of a chicken kebab with cassava shavings on top? And I’ve never had healthy yet savoury hotdogs and smoked chicken. Even the scent of the food took me back to the cultural festival and I wish I could send him some food but a gloating picture of me eating will do.

Anyway, it's been a lovely week and so far, Rio has treated me kindly. Like even as we were unpacking and genuinely goofing off before we started working , I did not think (as much) about what I left. Though Mom does call me daily alongside Samosa and Granny so that kind of helps. Jojo is calling, I have to catch this call.

Third-Person Narration.

Y/n went in her finest suit, all black and tailored with a little scarf on her neck to add a layer of colour. Though this proved to be a problem as after she stepped out to the morning sun, she realised her outfit choice was not suited for a long working day. Luckily she’d be staying in an air-conditioned environment so after hailing a cab she headed straight for the Starfish Hotel.

“Y/n you do know that I love you but just know that I pulled many strings to get you this position so please don’t act up.” Joseph pleads to the speaker.

“As I said in my CV, I work well with people ” Y/n mutters to the phone as she enters the cream-coloured reception area. The brown-skinned woman with a serene smile, dressed in the hotel’s white polo shirt with the hotel’s logo embroidered on the side looks up to her after welcoming the family in. She nods politely in question and y/n quickly mutters,

“Ok bye, take care, love you.” and cuts before listening to the barrage of ‘must-dos’ that Joseph is insistent she keeps through.

“Hi, I’m Y/n and I’m here for the clerk position,” Y/n said with as much enthusiasm as she could. The receptionist's smile tightened before once more relaxing to a less frigid one and said softly in a tone that has to have been dipped in honey 

“Oh, welcome, Please, let me help you to the office.” 

She opens the wooden door beside her semi-circular large desk that shows her to management and it's almost like opening the doors to a mini paradise. Unlike the old office that faced the ocean, the floor-to-ceiling windows faced the nearby forest and gave the entire area a cool and refreshing look. White marble floors and a sparse yet open planned office area definitely increased the large room’s capacity. Minimalistic tables and chairs filled the area though it was soothed by the colourful pillows and decors that adorned each employee's taste. She was shown to the desk in a corner and excitedly said,

“Thank you, I can't wait to decorate it.”

She simply nodded and showed y/n to the break room. Though small and kind of claustrophobic due to the little window high up, the baby blue background,  dark green rug carpet that made itself known in almost every crevice of the room, and comfy yellow bean bag chairs that were sparsely placed made the room feel brighter. Atop the white marble-walled counter sat a white smeg coffee maker and a matching fridge at the furthest left corner.

She found a few of her colleagues talking though the loud ramblings turned to hush murmurings when she entered the room. The receptionist then said.

“This is Y/n our new colleague. Please make her feel welcome.”

The blonde gave a polite smile and nodded. The taller of the man, with distinguishably blue eyes and a lean frame, nodded in acknowledgment yet the last guy, with bleached blonde tight coils and brown eyes that y/n thought would look stunning when reflected by the sun rays slightly sneered.

“Welcome Y/n I hope you have a wonderful time here with us, I’m Melanie, the supervisor.”She says whilst shaking her hand which she shakes in response.

“Hey, I’m Lucas, Head of HR, pleasure.” He says this time with a small smile as she greets him. She heads to greet the third colleague, arm already outstretched when he says,

“Are you Joseph Joestar’s granddaughter?” He questions with a glare. Y/n quickly retracts her hand and replies smoothly.

“Not biologically but yes he considers me like family.”

He murmurs something in Portuguese which the receptionist and Lucas laugh slightly at. Melanie however, stays quiet and looks onto them in disappointment. Y/n although unaware, is very much sure a slight insult has been made due to the acknowledgment of how she got here, and tightness pools in her heart.

4 May 20XX,

I can’t stand him. Honestly, aside from school, I don’t think there have been many times I’ve reached breaking point till now. It's almost like Thiago is aimed at making my life a living hell. And what’s worse, aside from Melanie, almost everyone doesn't seem to mind. Matter of fact they might be revelling in the fact that they can treat me like absolute shit. And it's not like physical bullying like forcing someone to submit to them by demanding unheard-of paperwork or getting them coffee. This one actually stings. They purposely block me out of conversations by speaking in Portuguese, they refuse to sit by me during lunch and I’m treated like a pest when I need some files translated.

To be honest, it hurts even more when it comes to Nalu. I would have taken the stiff hospitality any day in comparison to the cruelty she displays when she and Thiago scoff in my presence. I can tell she likes him and could be also doing this to win his favour or she’s just a bully that likes stomping on people. I feel like I’m in kindergarten, trying to fit within the already tight-knit groups, but I don’t think even then the kids were mean to me. 

Melanie however, despite her busy nature, has been my saving grace. She's too busy helping Pedro in managing the hotel but is always checking up on me. She and the lovely janitor Julietta, who’s surprisingly Thiago’s cousin, are the sole reason I’m not eating lunch in the locked bathrooms. Julietta, especially, has been loud about her disapproval of the way they treat me and seems especially annoyed at Thiago who she assured is ‘Not like that’.

Well, Julietta, he is like that and he should be grateful I’m taking meds and went to therapy. Speaking of which, I need a new therapist, it seems like I’ll need it.

Third Person Narration

“Hi, my love.” Jotaro’s even deeper voice voices out as y/n places herself sideways whilst looking at him.

“Hi, Jojo. I miss you.” Y/n says softly.

“I miss you more. Why do you look so sad? “ Jotaro questions while peering at the slight pout that seems more of a permanent fixture as the days go by.

“Nothing.” She withdraws while attempting to smile.

“Baby, just tell me, and I’ll listen to you vent.” 

And this ensures a long ranting session where he calmly listens, eyes never looking away, ears fine-tuned to the soft ramblings of her troubled work life, nodding and interjecting only when he couldn’t get a point to its fullest.

“So this Thiago is harassing you, and you can't tell Lucas 'cause he seems uncaring for your issues.”

“Yes !”

“Do you want me to book a plane there? I will at any moment if you need me.” Jotaro calmly replies 

“No, no don’t. I’ll get over it, Just need to keep up taking my meds.”She replies in a slightly cheery tone.

“I wish I was there, or should I tell Gramps? The old man should be worth-”

“No, don’t think of it. This happened because they know I’m related to him and think I’m some pompous rich kid. And you know what, they aren’t far off, I do have the privilege that comes with having connections and my mom being a partner of the law firm but I have never acted as so. Or have I?” The once confident tone dims to a silent murmur of contemplation.

“Of course not love.” He reassures her. He wishes he could teleport to her rather than remain helpless in Zanzibar but he knows his girl can pull through and when she can’t anymore he’ll aid Thiago in finally using that dental insurance coverage.

“Anyway, what’s up with you? Where is your anchor currently stationed, Captain Kujo.” She ends with a salute

Jotaro tells her of his tales, omitting parts that may cause a heart attack and explaining the beauty of the city and the marine biologists he’s already met up with as he plans on working with them a bit for some research.

“And I hope that ring is on display y/n. Everyone must know that you are a kept woman.” He reminds her

“‘Kept?’ babe this is the 21st century, not 1AD and yes it is always around my finger.”

“Y/N DINNER!” Abdul shrieks out.

“It seems you are needed, don’t keep them waiting,” Jotaro says with a slightly disappointed face.

“They can wait, I still want to talk to you.” Y/n whines out. Right on cue, Patience shouts.

“Stop talking to your man and get here already.” 

“This is the reason you sleep alone at night,” Y/n shouts back in mild frustration and Patience shrieks out

“Says the woman in a long-distance relationship. Will Jotaro cuddle you virtually? I don’t think so, I guess we are riding the same waves.”She argues back, tone increasing as she decreases the distance from the dining to y/n dimly lit bedroom.

“I think she’s actually coming to beat me up. Bye. I love you, my starfish.” 

And before Jotaro replies back, mind swirling with the affectionate nickname and breath hitched, she cuts the call. And as he hears the waves crashing on the seaside, he texts back 

“I love you too, my koi.”

8 May 20XX,

I resent Thiago. It’s not the not-so-subtle insults, the ignorance even in more professional settings like group meets, or even his thinly veiled sneers whenever we meet paths. No, it's just him. He reminds me a lot of my former self for some reason. At least I never stopped as low as bullying anyone but still. To see a representation of who I could have been doesn’t make me grateful that I worked so hard to rid my ego, actually, it seems the world favours such behaviours.

It may sound crazy but then why on earth is he head of marketing? Like he for sure can’t put himself in the same position as the consumer as his head is too busy stuck up his ass to care about anything other than his fade and the Brazilian football team. The point is, I worked so hard to be a better person. I moved to another freaking continent in an attempt to understand the world around me and it seems like my hard work was all for naught. Why did I spend hours in therapy if someone like him gets the easy way out? He’s well-liked, has an outstanding social dynamic, and gets to have quick lies with someone as stunning as Nalu whenever he feels like whereas I was reduced to feeling like a monster for having his traits.  It's not fair. I put in the work, I put in the hours to become a good person and yet I’m the pathetic new hire that everyone hates because I got this job through connections. 

Was this all for nothing? Does it seem the world rewards bad behaviour so what benefit do I have from staying good?

Third-Person Narration.

“Y/n if you don’t bash the head of this nigga one of these fine days I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”Patience tsks on one of those rare days when all of them are coincidentally off. 

They are seated on their couch, a beautiful, rust-coloured shade with the finest of leather that spans the majority of the sitting room. The couch was a delightful find in a second-hand refurbishing furniture shop nearby. All of them are looking onto y/n as the tunes of some classic hip hop play in a low tone, and their brown shades dimly light up their sitting room creating a cosy atmosphere as dusk settles tonight.

“I’d love you to but I promised Grandpa Joseph I won’t be a bother.”Y/n moans out.

“Look babes, give him a taste of his own medicine. You genuinely can’t be allowing anyone to be talking to you like that . Personally, I’d be talking back.” Abdul says in an encouraging lilt.

“I just want a peaceful working environment. That doesn’t sound peaceful. And Dr. Hose said I should just ignore him.”Y/n countered.

“Well, Dr. Hose is not taking the insults for you. Or defending you. The man is seated making $25 an hour for telling you something soft feminine girls say on the internet regularly. When did you become such a wimp?” Patience sighs out while aggressively munching the popcorn sat on my lap.

“Stop eating that, dinner is almost here,” Abdul chides.

“I’m not a wimp, I just don’t want to undo my hard work over some man-child who could be a xenophobe.” Y/n quietly mutters.

“Therapy has made you soft. University you would have started a sumo match on the first day. Where did that fire go? You are a Goddamn lawyer l/n, the basis of our job description is to shit-talk with really good arguments!” Patience exclaims, still chomping the last of the popcorn to the point of crushing the unpopped seeds 

“I know you still don’t know why I went MIA after graduation. Or why I’m taking therapy but trust me when I say that my anger issues were not just that and returning to that would be bad.”Y/n expresses in a low tone.

A chill swept by causing y/n to hug her blanket in comfort. After a near-deafening silence, Abdul then asks

“So what will you do?”

* * *

After taking her morning coffee from the break room, Y/n  heads to the conference room. Since it's her first time, she seems captivated by the mural depicting the nightlife of Sao Paulo at the back of the room  and is only brought back to the present when Melanie softly mutters to her

“Y/n let's sit, the meeting is about to begin.”

This is the first time she is introduced to the Hotel Director Fernando. He seems like a sweet pal and if it weren’t for the grey hairs you’d think he’s much younger. He and Joseph share the same vibe and y/n understands why they get along well.

The meeting went well. The monthly quota of yadda and the marketing yadda seems to be well and by the end of it all things seem to be in more order and thus everyone leaves with a smile.

“Oh, and by the way Y/n, our new data analyst has been doing such a splendid job already. A round of applause. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier but welcome to Starfish Hotel. She did law consulting for our new branch in Kilifi, Kenya so she’s become quite experienced in the hospitality industry.” He says as they lightly clap sans Thiago, Lucas, and Nalu. Y/n lets out a tight smile. Kind of like the ones people who accidentally meet each other's eyes give.

This time though Thiago gives off a slightly shocked face.

‘Yeah, I’m experienced. Thought I was just an unsuccessful nepo baby huh.’ She thinks with a slight smirk.

“And as usual, I’d like to welcome her with a nice group dinner, so I booked a reservation at that Brazilian fusion restaurant nearby. Mandatory.” He says with a smile, punctuating his sentence with a semi-serious tone.

The room buzzes in glee. It seems like a popular restaurant and when y/n questions why Melanie responds.

“It’s not that it's posh, it's just the food is really good, and sometimes since we are  are closer to a stadium, footballers eat there after the game.” She excitedly remarks 

Y/n says nothing though she thinks that it would be wonderful to eat there. If she likes it so much, she can even take Patience and Abdul there. 

Aside from the meeting, the day went surprisingly well. Largely because Thiago is out and Lucas is busy but still it seems better than most. She’s introduced to one of Lucas's subordinates, Richiarldo and they get along well once they discover their love for similar Anime. Though bickering ensues on whether Jujutsu Kaisen is good or just that it was a well-written Naruto and Y/n, despite hating Gege’s sadistic ass, defends the show like she’s personally getting paid.

“Damn, no wonder you are a lawyer. I was moved enough to even read the manga.” He laughs after her last defence.

“I only got the degree so that I could properly argue out controversial anime opinions.”

“Though you do admit, the similarities are uncanny.” Richiarldo teases.

“Kind of. He definitely took the foundation of Naruto.” She admits.

Then he’s called over by Lucas who has an undefined scowl on his face and he cheerfully bids her bye, brunette ponytail swishing as he moves away from the lunchroom and encourages her to get back to work.

By the time the orange hues in the sky get significantly darker, y/n is done with her current assignment and quickly heads over to the staff parking lot where everyone is meeting to wait for Fernando. She detects mutters in Portuguese of the orders they will make and she just seems excited that she is slowly understanding the dialect.

Soon he walks out and the group of 12 heads to the restaurant. The open-planned restaurant is brightly lit and has fairy lights in every booth. Alongside those strings are threads of fake vines that lead up to the large circular bar at the centre. The ground is covered in fake grass and luckily the spot reserved sits at the perfect point to see the ocean. The large table is properly dispersed and despite y/n being able to sit beside Richiarldo and Melanie, she directly faces Thiago and Lucas. Nalu is nowhere near them and for some reason, that earned her a glare.

Dinner went smoother than expected, Y/n  had a lovely prawn cream known as Vatapa, recommended by Richiarldo. He then ordered some Pastels and Pao de queijo which we shared. His personal dish was a Feijoada, a dish his mom used to sell. They chatted the entire time and y/n felt comfortable around new people for the first time in a long time. Smiling and chatting with them in spite of the language barrier and despite the odd accent as she tried saying phrases in the dialect, they still cheered her on like a child learning to walk.

By the time nine reached, Fernando ordered beers, and y/n ordered a mocktail. And the night went on and on. Melanie just slumped out after arguing with absolutely no one. Richiarldo wants to call his girlfriend and hasn’t been off the phone since and Fernando has been even more jovial, encouraging bad behaviour by asking for even more beers. 

“So y/n, how’s life as a rich kid? I haven’t seen you driving a Porsche or is that for your one-year working anniversary.” Thiago snarls with a slur. Some at the table look at her yet most seem unaware of the brewing tension between the group.Y/n stays silent, instead eating her lukewarm Canjica.

“Or will you be made a COO under some mysterious circumstances ?” He pressured on. Those who were merely eavesdropping seem to look at him questioningly, and soon the cheer and loud yapping seem to dilute to murmurings.

“Hey, shut up. Take your bitter ass elsewhere.” Richiarldo slurs out in Portuguese

“How about I punch you instead.''Thiago lunges at Richiarldo and what should have been a table-crashing, glass-shattering argument was instead a total smackdown. Thiago punched the already too-drunk Richiarldo to the floor and the entire restaurant erupts into murmurings. Soon, the group is forced out and Fernando talks to the manager wide-eyed, pleading to not get banned.

Y/n, is at her breaking point, in comparison to all the drunkards, she’s the soberest and so after  putting most of them in a safe Uber home, she’s left with Thiago, Lucas, and Nalu. Then she calls her own Uber.

“What about us?” Nalu questions.

“Thiago can manage. I mean he could beat up his own colleague. He has the strength to call for an Uber.” She calmly responds once confirming the location.

“Yeah, all you rich people are the same. Couldn’t care less for us because we aren’t worth much huh.” Thiago shouts out in an odd mix of English and Portuguese.

“Jesus Christ ENOUGH WITH ALL THIS. Why are you so bent on making my life a living hell? Ok, I got my job based on pulling a few strings and so what? Clearly, I’m good at it. I couldn’t give less of a fuck if you had to work hard. And if you haven’t already figured out that life isn’t fair, here’s a quick reminder.” She gestures dramatically at her full figure.

“Do you know that my aunt worked hard for your position? I promised her that after struggling to get her diploma in IT I’d get her a job here. To get Juliette to university at her chosen school which she couldn’t be able to get because they are poor. And then at the last minute, you waltz in and suddenly I’m told the job that I promised her is gone. And her daughter has to scrub floors and I have to watch you have the life I so desperately wanted for them.” Thiago chokes out, eyes watery. Nalu attempts to hug him and he softly shoves her away as he stands more upright.

“And, so what? You blame the burdens of life on me , someone you didn’t even care to know properly? You think I’ll feel pity for you because you had it hard? I don’t give a shit. Cry me a river for all I care and the world would remain unfair. To think, you could have told me this issue and I would have aided you but instead, it seems acting like a middle school bully was the better option. “ She punctuates the sentence with a click and a ding from her phone notifies her of her requested driver. After bidding Fernando bye and assuring him that all is well despite the outburst, she leaves, not once looking back at them.

12 May 20XX

Do I feel bad for Thiago? Kind of. My mom wasn’t born wealthy and based on what I heard from my childhood she was barely able to afford the roof over her head. I don’t remember that much because she landed a case that got her paid well and hasn’t struggled since. Typical rags to riches. But that was a one-in-a-million opportunity. Not everyone has that kind of advantage. 

Guess you’ll always be a villain in someone’s story no matter how minuscule your involvement in their life may seem to you.

Third-Person Narration.

The next day was awkward, yet people politely asked if y/n was fine after the outburst. Juliette, almost teary, seemed close to bowing in apology for her cousin, and Y/n feeling more awkward than ever, bought her a juice and hotdog from the canteen and made her promise to not feel bad about the instance. 

She went to Fernando’s office with a brown letter in her hand.

“Y/n, come sit down. How have you been?” He remorsefully asks.

“I’m fine. These things happen .” Y/n politely replies.

“So, what brings you here?” Fernando asks, a thick eyebrow raised.

“Here.” She says whilst sliding the letter.

Fernando reads it slowly and says softly.

“Did what Thiago say hurt you that deeply?” 

“It wasn’t about being hurt. It felt like the moral thing to do. I’ll manage on my own.” She says in a monotonous tone.

After a long sigh, and a look at his window which directly oversaw the pool area and beach, now filled with cherry children and scared parents, he says.

“You’re a grown-up. Ok, I accept the resignation.”

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Apologies dear coven, I have been bestowed the work of administrating the work of my fellow sisters {Yes we have adopted to modern technology for convenience} and thus have been unable to update the holy writings ( Work and school has made me busy and thus unable to update. Don't worry , what was to be only fifteen chapters is drawing to a close. Thank you once more for the eyes that grace my noob like writing. Its very encouraging.)