#writing poverty

[hussyknee]

Vajra Chandrasekera is a Locus and Nebula award-winner and has been short-listed for a Hugo Award this year. You can find his Tumblr here: @adamantine and his twitter here: @_vajra

[genderqueerdykes]

being poor is so mind numbingly boring. you can't afford hobbies, leisure activities, games, books, music, transportation for going to places, some people can't afford internet or a phone. entertainment is seen as a complete and total luxury, but what people don't realize is that people need to be entertained.

there is nothing left to do for fun that's completely free. parks are tiny and meant for dogs, mostly, they're unsanitary as hell because there's mostly just dog waste everywhere. getting to the park costs money. kids and adults alike cannot just go "play outside". adults aren't even allowed to "play," we gawk at adults who stop to play with bugs or look at small animals. adults aren't allowed to play pretend it's seen as weird. kids don't have anywhere to go- they're considered "loitering" or an annoyance if they hang around anywhere for too long. not everyone can go to bars.

it is necessary for our mental health to have things to keep ourselves entertained with. people often get caught up on a poor person having one nice thing for themselves, but after a while, that 1 nice thing gets boring, too. people need variety. we need stimulation. we need input. we need to experience the world, too

i was told by my own therapist and case worker that people need entertainment and happiness to survive. humans are not wired to suffer 24/7, no one has to earn entertainment. if you think i'm pulling things out of my ass, i'm not. multiple mental health professionals in my own life have confirmed that people need to have fun or their health will suffer. mental health is connected to physical health. you know nothing if you think this is factually inaccurate.

poor people shouldn't be relegated to boredom and never experiencing life and what the world has to afford. the entirety of entertainment should not be paywalled. people should not have to pay entry for every single event in their area, or try to find free events and struggle to pay for the transportation. it's not good for your mental health.

[bunnieswithknives]

Thinking about his brain

[kadir01sblog]

Bir sokak sanatçısı bir sanat eseri çiziyor: "yoksulluğun görünmezliği".

Bir şaheser. Sanatçının adı Kevin Lee!

Vallahi daha sevaplı olur. Her sene hacca gitmek yerine bir yoksula uğrayıp ihtiyaçlarını karşılamak, bir günlüğünede olsa onları mutlu etmek, bir çocuğa hayalindeki oyuncağı yada ayakkabıyı almak bin kere hacca gitmekten daha sevaplıdır. Bakmayın cennete gidersiniz sözlerine, hacca girmekle arapları üretmeden, çalışmadan zengin etmekten başka birşey yapmıyorsunuz..

[violetgroans]

So, the Luigi Mangione situation has been consuming my thoughts for days. Honestly, I’m surprised to see even those who typically consume right-wing media starting to connect the dots.

Kyle Rittenhouse was hailed as an “American patriot” and a “hero” by right-wing media like Fox and co, not because they’re anti-establishment but because they blindly support the establishment. After his acquittal, conservative media framed his actions as self-defence, the ultimate embodiment of “law and order.” But let’s be honest—this wasn’t about justice or morality. It was about doubling down on a toxic gun culture, one that upholds violence as a virtue when it aligns with their politics.

Take Donald Trump, for example. He’s their golden boy, the so-called saviour of the working class, but what did he actually do for anyone struggling to make ends meet? He gave billionaires a massive tax break, slashing corporate rates to 21% and leaving crumbs for everyone else. Universal healthcare? Forget it. Trump spent years trying to dismantle the Affordable Care Act without even pretending to offer an alternative. And wages? They stagnated while he bragged about a booming economy. He couldn’t stop talking about low petrol prices—as if that fixes lives ruined by medical debt or the soaring cost of living. Meanwhile, his obsession with fracking wasn’t about energy independence; it was about making oil companies richer.

Trump’s entire existence is proof that capitalism rewards incompetence if you’re born into the right family. He’s failed at business after business, but the money and connections always find their way back to him, bringing power along for the ride.

Now compare that to someone like Luigi Mangione. Here’s a guy from a privileged background—an Ivy League graduate, no less—who allegedly assassinated UnitedHealthcare’s CEO, Brian Thompson. And why? Because Mangione had seen enough of the system Thompson profited from: a healthcare industry that lets people die while executives rake in bonuses. Mangione reportedly left behind a manifesto condemning health insurance companies for putting profits over people. Even Daily Mail readers, who’d normally back the establishment, are expressing sympathy for him and calling out billionaires. When even the most propagandised audiences are waking up, you know something’s wrong.

This isn’t complicated: poverty kills. Debt kills. And billionaires like Thompson—who faced criticism for policies that punished patients seeking emergency care—are perfectly comfortable profiting off that suffering. They sit in their towers, insulated from the consequences of the system they exploit, while working-class people are forced to choose between survival and dignity.

What billionaires should really fear is us realising we’ve been played. For decades, they’ve worked to convince us our biggest threats are each other—minorities, immigrants, anyone but them—when they’re the ones pulling the strings. Without our labour and endless, soul-crushing consumption, they’re nothing.

Do I feel bad for a billionaire who’s scared? Not in the slightest. They don’t know fear the way we do. They don’t have to worry about eviction notices or medical bills. They’ve convinced us their success is aspirational, but it’s all a con—a rigged game that keeps them on top no matter what.

I hope the Luigi Mangione case sparks a backlash they can’t ignore. I hope it forces people to confront how deeply this system has failed us. The media will try to spin it, of course. They’re already working to humanise people like Thompson, men who built their careers on denying claims and leaving sick people to fend for themselves. Meanwhile, these same journalists won’t write about kids being pushed into poverty or the way empathy disappears when a rapist gets elected to office. It’s so absurd it feels like a cruel joke—like we’re being manipulated for laughs as reason abandons our collective psyche.

People have turned this murder into a meme, and they’re being condemned for it. But billionaires, propped up by the likes of Murdoch, have relied on our desensitisation for decades to amass wealth and control political narratives. The internet makes that harder for them now, and they know it.

And people are tired. We misdirect our anger into the wrong places, often at each other, and can you blame us? What have protests actually accomplished lately? Millions marched for Palestine—one of the largest demonstrations in recent memory—but did it stop the US or UK from backing Netanyahu? Of course not.

So where do they think all this frustration is going to go? Because one day, it’s going to boil over—and no amount of money or media spin will protect them.

[hauntingofhouses]

(concept art of young taigen - source ; art credit: @abigaillarson)

i cannot get over this concept art of young taigen. god.

just look at this angry bratty boy, too many feelings that he doesnt know what to do with! an abused 9 year old kid in poverty always playing with sticks in the dirt, obsessed with greatness and dreaming to escape his decrepit village—and he does!

he does escape. he runs away. this angry little boy, all claws and teeth and biting words uttered with a lisp, going on the run into a world he's never seen before until he makes his way to kyoto. and knowing him he probably forced his way in to be accepted by the dojo, growling and kicking even as he's thrown out, back into the streets, too stubborn to take no for an answer and never knowing when to give up.

taigen calls mizu a dog, weak, an orphan, a scrawny street urchin. but i can't help but think that he feels so bold to use those words because he had them spat at him too.

because taigen had the idea of "this is how the world is" beat into him from birth. he learned quickly that if you couldn't beat the world you could join it. but that meant losing your way, your values, your principles. and isn't that what true honour is? not just titles and status and glory?

we don't get to see what taigen, as a child surrounded by peers encouraging and goading him on, would've actually done if that meteor hadn't fallen right in front of them at that very moment. would he have really tried to throw that stone on mizu, killing her? we don't know.

but we do see what taigen (his true self, with no one around) does, when presented with the same opportunity. when mizu passes out in front of him, unconscious and near death, vulnerable, the path to restoring his honour lays itself out for him on a silver platter. and he wants to take it, wants to kill mizu, to claim what is his and return to kyoto and get back everything he'd worked tooth and nail for. he feels like it's what he should do. but he doesn't.

and later, again he is presented with the chance to betray mizu, likely offered by heiji shindo to get his rank reinstated within the shindo dojo. and again, taigen doesn't take it. he refuses. "stupidly loyal," fowler calls him later. loyal, like a dog.

because now, pulled away from the sneering looks and jeering words of people around him, telling him that this is what the world is, taigen had met ringo and mizu, two outcasts who refuse to follow a predetermined path to greatness. and so inside something blooms in him. something like hope. a chance to live in a world that doesn't kick you down every chance it gets, to live in a world where genuine kindness and and love and friendship and even weakness is possible, allowed to simply exist without fear.

because he'd been running away from the very idea of it the whole time. when he ran from kohama, he never looked back, never wanted to remember what it was like to be a child, afraid and hungry and angry and hurting, without the words to make sense of it, desperately wishing for something. something more. he doesn't know what. but he hears stories of great swordsmen and decides, yes, this must be it. this is what i want: glory, greatness. the twisted seed gets planted and thrives in this barren land.

and when he returns to kohama with mizu and ringo, he at last is forced to stop running. he must face the child within him again, and he tells that child to put down the stones in his hand, tells him to stop barking at anything that moves or looks at him wrong.

the child drops the stone, and taigen buys dumplings instead, gives them to mizu. the child within him, wide-eyed at the prospect of friendship, moves him to pick up a hammer and toss it to mizu. he's smiling inside even as he does it; giggling like a kid hiding a silly prank. as soon as mizu drops the hammer after him, he leaps at her, tackling her to the ground and they wrestle and laugh unbridled like two children playing while the adults aren't around to barge in and yell at them.

and then his gaze catches on mizu's lips, he stares into mizu's eyes, a sparkling blue, inviting like the open sea in good weather.

it's a man's desire that takes hold then, the child in him sinking away again, and he curses himself for it, because it ruins the moment.

everything goes to shit from there, and then it's back to being a man, back to putting on his grown-up's armour to play hero.

it fails. the shogun dies. fowler's beatings reopen all the wounds left by heiji shindo's torture. "honour is meaningless," mizu tells him. "nothing comes from being a samurai but death."

the words follow him, and he follows the words.

as everything burns down, he runs, leaving the fire behind him, and sees akemi, as well as the verdure of spring behind her, calling him. he does not hesitate then to hold his hand out to her, inviting her to come with him. "i don't want to be great," he says. "i just want to be happy."

what is happiness to him? perhaps he doesn't know it yet, or perhaps he does. but really, i believe happiness is what the child in him always wanted but never received. happiness is a home.

[yeonbam]

People who wonder why Jack is so sensitive about Joke’s constant theft to get his way, even if it is for Jack, forget that one of the main prejudices against economically struggling classes of people is that those from privileged classes look at them with suspicion of crimes like theft literally chronically.

And Jack is the kind of person who is extra hard on himself because of the things he doesn’t have and he wants to escape this ‘othering’, this dehumanization of sorts, by using with what he has— his skills and knowledge, i.e. socially acceptable means.

This aversion to theft is seen even in Tattoo’s mother when she chastises her son for stealing from Boss despite how much they are literally suffering because of him. To escape prejudice against poor people being inherent thieves, they have to be ten times better than the average person, can't be immoral the same way the rich are, or else their suffering magically becomes "deserved" because they're not "good poor people."

YET, the complexity of this othering is so deep that even wanting to be self-reliant is frowned upon, as you see when Joke’s Dad criticizes Jack for being ‘poor but proud’ to want to give his grandmother the best medical treatment.

The reality is, the source of this ‘pride’/self-reliance, is literally… never having anyone who will help you out of your situations. Boss helping his grandmother with medicine was literally a scheme to use her to control Jack. And help for the hospital bills came at the price of his life and identity in the hands of Boss.

The first time Jack got help for his dream was from Joke and it ended in the shattering of his hopes due to betrayal and being almost involved in theft— of all things.

Jack is the amalgamation, of all these expectations from others and from himself. He is simultaneously inclined to be the perfect ‘victim’ and the saviour who, having lost his own childhood, wants to give all the things he never had to the children. It is going to be a chance for them and a second chance for himself. He formed this idea when he too was just a baby.

[qprpbj]

sooo what if i wrote a food insecure johnny fic who literally scavenges for day old at restaurant garbages whenever he’s not eating with two bit or pony’s families bc his family doesn’t feed him and he’s so scared to go home - not like they really buy groceries anyway. or johnny who hides what he’s eating and is ashamed to eat around people/at the mathew’s/curtises dinner tables bc when he eats their food he inhales and could binge eat like five full plates till he makes himself sick bc he doesn’t know when his next real meal will be.

[enbycrip]

Thing to remember if you are writing anything involving class and working class people, including game design: poverty is a major cause of AND a major result of disability and chronic illness.

If you write something where every working class person, every person who comes from a working class background, or every poor person, is healthy and physically strong, and just as much or more so if you bake that into a game system by giving people from those backgrounds high Health or Strength stats, you are making an active *choice* to erase a substantial part of the experience of and results of poverty.

Disabled people exist *everywhere*. In every setting - even when there’s magical healing or nanobots or whatever, frankly, erasure of disabled people and the experience of disability is an active narrative choice to erase us. So we *certainly* exist in *every* real world present-day and historical setting, and the fact that you don’t think so is due to active cultural erasure of disabled people and the experience of disability.

While disability is *absolutely* present in every strata of society, the experiences of disability and poverty are deeply and inherently entwined. Given that the vast majority of people are workers, and primarily physical workers throughout history - and if you don’t think disability massively impairs your ability to do call centre work, let alone food service, care work, retail work, or most of the other low-paid jobs in our current service economy, even if they are not habitually classified as heavy physical work, you need to massively expand your understanding of what disability actually is.

Poverty is generational in all sorts of ways, but one of them is that gestational and childhood poverty affects a person for their entire life. There are so many illnesses that one is predisposed to by inadequate nutrition during gestation and childhood, or by environmental pollution during those times (most likely in poverty-stricken areas). Disability and illness in parents and family members so often sees young children go without essentials and older ones forced into forgoing education and opportunities so they can care for family members or enter paid work. It’s a generational cycle that has held depressingly true in urban and rural areas, and that’s before even considering the impact of genetic illnesses and predisposition to illnesses.

Not to mention that a great deal of neurodivergence is incredibly disabling in every strata of society - yes, bits of it can be very advantageous in certain places, jobs, roles and positions, but the *universality* of punishment for not intuiting the subtle social rules of place and social environment again and again means most ND folk end up with a massive burden of trauma by adulthood. On top of the poverty that means in loss of access to paid work and other opportunities, trauma is incredibly shitty for your health.

Yeah; it might not be “fun” to write about or depict. But by failing to do so you are actively perpetuating the idea that the class system, whatever it is, is “just”. That poorest people do the jobs they do because they are “best suited for them” instead of because of societal inequality and sheer *bad fortune* without safety nets to catch people. It is very much worth doing the work to put it in.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Mires

literary, magical realism

follows three women who are neighbours in Kāpiti, in the near future

a Māori single mother, and her daughter - who can sense the thoughts and memories of people and the land

a refugee from climate disaster, struggling to fit in with the unfamiliar culture and relative safety with her husband and young daughter

and an older white woman whose son has recently moved home after being groomed into a right wing extremist group, causing tensions to rise among them all

[singingcicadas]

The way it's depicted, Cybertron's pre-war societal issues had a lot less to do with Functionism and more to do with unchecked government corruption, massive wealth disparity, high layoff/unemployment rates, and disenfranchisement.

People were starving, they needed work, they weren’t getting any. Those that were fortunate enough to have work didn’t get paid living wages, much less have anything to spare for health contingencies. Even then stability’s still the luxury of the top few tiers; they live one cut away from layoff. The government cared only enough to exacerbate these issues by coming up with new ways for exploitation. Any attempts to protest or lobby were shut down through political persecution. As a result the masses turned increasingly to crime, drug abuse, thuggery, and violence. Extreme acts of terrorism gets lauded as long as the collateral damage's suffered by someone else. Morality and caution are eroded in the face of desperation.

Meanwhile the many alleged restrictions of Functionism are just lip service complaints made by the characters which doesn’t match up to most of the stuff we’re shown. Like if Rung could become a psychologist, a specialized job that requires higher education, despite having zero background on top of such a weird alt that he had to be classified as an ornament, then wow the functionists must be open-minded. If Dominus Ambus could be a scientist/doctor/explorer/author/successful social rights advocator during the height of functionist control with a minesweeper military-use alt (assuming that his secondary alt's the same as Minimus'), then wow the functionists must be accommodating. If Tyrest could become chief engineer under Nova and later go into law, a complete change of profession, while being a jet, then wow functionism's flexible. If Ratbat and Momus could become senators in a society that discriminates heavily against beastformers and labor frames, then wow that’s progressive. If every Prime from Nova to Zeta (with the exception of Sentinel, his alt’s a tank, he only has wings in Megatron Origin as part of his Apex armour upgrade), every single named pre-war senator other than Proteus and Momus, and four out of five of Nova Prime’s buddy club (only Galvatron's a grounder) were wingframes in a society that supposedly discriminates against wingframes, then wow that’s… inconsistent worldbuilding.

Megatron didn’t get into bloodsports or start a war because he didn’t get to pursue his dream job. He got driven into the pits and down the slippery slope of moral degeneration because his only source of income was cut off by the mine closure incident. People wanted livelihoods above anything else, it's the failure to provide that that made the miners go off the deep end and resulted in the death of a guard. If Functionism actually ensured that everyone could be guaranteed a job or at least minimized the unemployment rates, then stratified castes or not, there would have been no war. People, or societies, are generally capable of tolerating an incredible amount of injustice as long as the majority still have a chance at scraping by at the end of the day. But the government, and later Megatron, kept yanking the rug out from under everyone over and over until they no longer even had a chance at that; there's no other choice left but fight or die.

[genderqueerdykes]

poverty is so isolating. it means being alone and away from people, events, society. you can't afford trips to and from places. you can't afford to spare gas. you can't afford the entrance fee. you can't afford tickets. you can't afford making eating a social event. you can't buy drinks. you can't engage in hobbies.

all you're encouraged to do are "free" things, but they're not free. Internet isn't free. cell phone service isn't free. sitting on the computer and your phone all day is frowned upon for good reason because it destroys your health. we shouldn't have to only be able to talk to people digitally to be able to socialize. we shouldn't have to watch streams all day. we need to see other people, i DON'T care if it costs a few dollars: poor people shouldn't be relegated to what few free activities there are because most of them involve being alone.

the library is one of the most annoying suggestions because it makes you feel pinned. yes i want to support my local library. i cannot sit still and read in public. it is not socially acceptable to start taking to strangers in the library in fact you can't have conversations there at all because you need to be quiet for the other readers. libraries are places of education, accessibility to information and resources, and social services. it is not a place to socialize. maybe entertain but Only if you can, well, read. i have dissociative disorders and unmedicated ADHD, i don't make it very far into books. i feel like most poor people get really tired of the library suggestion. it's an amazing resource. but it's not for this purpose

social events are almost always off limits. sure you can go to the bar and not drink, if you don't have alcohol trauma, aren't a recovering alcoholic, aren't overstimulated by noise, aren't photosensitive, don't have anxiety with crowds and strangers, aren't a minor, have an ID, and can walk there or get a ride there. sure you can walk to the cafe and use their Wi-Fi but this isn't a social activity and in many places you can't sit there for long periods unless you buy anything.

i get SO tired of the "go to a cafe" suggestion. think about how boring that actually is. you're alone. in America, it is NOT socially acceptable to sit at a strangers table like it is in other countries, let alone just start talking to them. it is NOT a common experience to strike up a conversation with strangers in cafes in America, like we really have cafes other than fucking starbucks to begin with.

going for walks and going to parks is not accessible to people with physical disabilities, agoraphobia, some schizophrenics, people with dog trauma, and other issues. parks usually have really poorly maintained or no sidewalks or foot paths. they can be uneven and hard to traverse for people who use mobility aids. unless you live near a monument or state park, your local parks are really meant for dogs to piss and shit in, for joggers to run through, and to look impressive to investors. they're usually pathetic swaths of grass with you guessed it, nothing to do. again it's rare to strike up conversation at the park. people need conversation starters. there's Nothing going on at the park. it's a great place to go if you need to cool down when angry or stressed, but it's fucking boring.

window shopping is pointless and dehumanizing. i really can't stand it when people suggest poor people window shop so we can think about things to buy when we have money ... why the fuck would i ever do that. when i don't have money i don't think about frivolous things i don't need. what the fuck kind of activity is window shopping, that's for people who have money.

poor people get tired of doing the "free" shit. if you suggest that a poor person should do these things when you do none of them yourself, you have 0 clue how boring and dehumanizing it is to never be able to decide what you do with your time. to have limited options to live. to experience.

money is not the reason you get to experience; you get to experience because you are alive. no poor people don't deserve to sit there and do nothing all day because they didn't "earn" anything. no poor people don't deserve to live their lives because they don't make as much as you. poor people deserve to enjoy being alive. poor people get to decide to have fun with their money, too.

I'm so tired of people being so harsh on people who struggle with financial issues and spending money "right" or "smart". reckless spending and difficulty managing finances are symptoms of mental illness and neurodivergence. bipolar, personality disorders, schizophrenia, anxiety, autism, ADHD, OCD and other mental health conditions can make managing funds very hard. don't be extra cruel to someone who spends money poorly in response to a mental health crisis. this won't make their situation any easier.

i sat in apartment after apartment for a decade doing nothing. i was a total shut in because i had no money. i never did anything but browse the Internet. all day long. without end. i was dissociating constantly. my anxiety was at its highest. i was constantly psychotic. instead of going out to fix it, i would stay inside longer, making it worse and worse and worse. i never bought anything. i didn't have hobbies. all of my decorations and possessions were from my childhood, my clothes were literally falling apart, a decade old. my walls were barren. my world was grey.

don't do this to yourself. don't tell yourself that you deserve nothing because it's harder for you to make money than other people. I'm very lucky now that i have made friends who pulled me out of my shell and have helped me get outside of my house. i spent so long alone and trapped indoors thinking it's the only thing i could do with myself for years. I'm finally recovering. if you're poor you deserve to live. you're alive. and you're not alone. i love you.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello

How can I write a story when the main idea is about a character and their internal conflict? I'm not sure what my problem is, but I can't get any ideas for this. It's hard for me to explain...

Like, the writing can't just be about the character's trauma. Of course, it's the core of the story and what I find most interesting, but other things need to be happening. I haven't even gotten any ideas for what exactly the trauma is. I just know how they're gonna struggle processing it. But, they still have a life to live, like studying/working, friends, family etc. Does there need to be external conflict too? Or am I just super indecisive and uninspired?

Struggling with Character-Driven Story

Stories can either be driven by an external conflict (plot-driven), an internal conflict (character-driven), or both. What you're talking about writing is a character-driven story, because it revolves around an internal conflict.

The type and level of external conflict in a character-driven story depends on the needs of the story. Quite often the external conflict in a character-driven story is a result of the internal conflict or tied to it in some way. For example, Jane Austen's Emma, features a "man vs self" internal conflict. She victimizes herself and others due to her own actions resulting from being vain, stubborn, being unable to confront her own feelings, and thinking she knows what's best for others. With the exception of the arrival of Jane Fairfax in Emma's village, most of the external conflict results from Emma's own foolish actions, many of which are influenced or affected by Jane's presence.

Today, it's not uncommon for stories to contain both internal and external conflict. Quite often, the external conflict simply provides a stage upon which the internal conflict can unfold. For example, you might have a story about four teenagers getting lost in the mountains and trying to survive mother nature (external conflict), but the story is really about who these teens are and exploring and resolving their internal conflicts.

I would suggest first trying to flesh out your character's trauma, as this could potentially inform your story's external conflict. For example, let's say your character's trauma was growing up in poverty. You could potentially find an external conflict that brings this trauma to the surface and forces your character to confront it. This external conflict then provides a framework through which the exploration and resolution of the internal conflict can play out. Alternatively, you could choose an unrelated (or mostly unrelated) external conflict, such as a big shake up at the company where your character works. In this case, the external conflict is more of a backdrop, but it still provides structure for the story as your character navigates the events of the company shake up while dealing with their internal conflict.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 4 - Does that hurt?

Suguru meticulously counts out the money he owes for his coffee. It’s not as if there’s much more in his purse anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. He knows he shouldn’t even spend this money on the coffee in the first place, but one treat every other week is not going to make that much of a difference and Suguru only ever splurges like this when he managed to get a good deal at the grocery store.

“Thank you,” he politely says when he gets his coffee and he’s already salivating a bit because he has been looking forward to this for almost the entire day.

He turns around, his cup safely in his hand and then it all goes to shit when he collides with a brick wall and his coffee goes flying.

“Fuck,” a voice says as Suguru mournfully stares at his coffee which is now spilled on the floor.

So much for that, then, he bitterly thinks before he pulls himself together and turns his attention towards the person he ran into.

At least half of the coffee is now in that guy’s shirt and Suguru’s stomach drops.

He cannot afford to get that to the cleaners.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushes out, hands uselessly fluttering in front of him because it’s not as if he can magically get the coffee out of the shirt. “Fuck, I’m sorry, are you hurt?”

The coffee had just been made for him, so it’s bound to be hot and compensation is something Suguru can absolutely not pay this guy.

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” the guy says and Suguru finally forces himself to tear his eyes away from his ruined shirt to look at him.

The gaze he meets leaves him stunned because those are the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so well. Do you need to sit down?” the guy asks him, concern clear as day on his face and Suguru mutely shakes his head even though he feels sick to his stomach with nerves.

“I’m just—I’m really sorry,” Suguru repeats again and the guy snorts, clearly amused, which is leagues better than angry, like Suguru had feared.

“Yeah, you said. But in all honesty, I should say sorry, because I was the one who snuck up on you. I really should have left some space.”

“No, that’s—” Suguru cuts himself off, because he should really take this out in stead of arguing for his own fault.

Like this the guy is less likely to ask Suguru for any kind of money.

“Hey listen,” he now starts and there it is again, the dread that makes Suguru’s stomach drop out. “Since this is my fault and all, how about I invite you for another coffee?”

“Huh?” Suguru gives back, thinking that he must have heard that wrong.

“I’m Satoru,” the guy introduces himself with a grin, “and I’d like to invite you to a coffee.”

“Uhm,” Suguru stammers out, blinking rapidly because this is not at all going how he expected it to go. “Suguru,” he finally manages, acutely aware of how familiar it is, of how inappropriate it is, but then again, he did just spill coffee all over this guy and is apparently being treated to a new one, so he best play along.

“Great, Suguru, tell that nice lady what your order is and that you’ll be taking it here,” Satoru says, turning Suguru around, back to the counter where the girl who just made his coffee is watching the scene unfold, mop at the ready.

“I remember,” the girl tells them and hands the mop over to her co-worker, who immediately rushes around the counter.

“I’m really terribly sorry,” Suguru can’t help but to say again, because he also caused these people more work but Satoru clicks his tongue.

“It’s my fault, why do you keep apologising. I am sorry,” he says to the guy, who waves them both off with a smile.

“It happens, no worries,” he reassures them just as the girl puts down Suguru’s order, together with what must be Satoru’s.

Satoru hands the money over without a care in the world and Suguru bitterly presses his lips together. How nice it must be to not care about every cent he spends, he thinks and then forcefully pushes that thought away.

It’s not Satoru’s fault that their situations are different and Suguru has absolutely no right to take it out on him, especially not after Satoru is being so nice to him.

“Thank you,” he says to Satoru as he picks up his coffee and dutifully follows him over to a booth.

“I really should be thanking you,” Satoru says with a cheeky little grin and now that Suguru is no longer paralysed by fear he notices for the first time how hot Satoru is.

He’s tall and handsome and his white hair and blue eyes are striking enough to turn anyone’s head.

“What for?” Suguru gives back, sitting down opposite of Satoru. “I spilled coffee all over you, that’s hardly something you should thank me for.”

“But it gave me an excuse to talk to you,” Satoru says with a shrug. “I was about to talk to you anyway, but like this I at least get to invite you for a coffee. Gives me more time to charm you.”

“To—charm me,” Suguru repeats because what the hell.

“Yep,” Satoru cheerily says right before he takes a big sip from his coffee and it gives Suguru just enough time to at least try and gather his thoughts.

“Is this like—you wanted to ask me out?”

“Sure did,” Satoru easily replies and Suguru can do nothing but blink.

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s what dates are for, right?”

“But why would you—”

“I think you’re the single most gorgeous guy I have ever seen, so why not?” Satoru interrupts him, leaving Suguru completely speechless and it’s only when the silence drags on that Satoru seems to become bashful. “I mean, no harm done if you’re offended or would rather leave. The coffee is paid for, if you don’t want to you don’t have to stick around,” he says, scratching at the back of his head.

“No!” Suguru rushes out, making Satoru smile. “I’m just—not used to this,” he admits because it’s been a long time since anyone has shown interest in him.

Longer even since anyone stuck around after finding out just how poor Suguru and his family are.

“I can’t really return the favour though,” Suguru weakly says, which only seems to brighten Satoru up more.

“Oh, already thinking about a second date? Lucky me,” he replies which makes Suguru blush faintly. “And hey, no worries, if you do want to do this again with me, I’m happy to invite you. Don’t even worry about that.”

Suguru is definitely going to worry about that, but in all honesty, he’s kind of getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t know if he likes Satoru yet, doesn’t know if they click like that and to already be thinking about another meeting—it’s awfully forward of him, so he pushes those thoughts away for now.

“Well, let’s just see how this one goes, alright?” Suguru offers and Satoru nods with so much enthusiasm that Suguru fears for a moment he’s going to dislocate something.

It turns out spending time with Satoru is easy and comfortable and good in a way Suguru isn’t used to so when Satoru proposes to exchange numbers Suguru is quick to agree, just like he’s quick to agree to meeting again at the same time next week.

He already knows that it’s going to be a highlight for him.

~*~*~

They keep meeting. At first it’s once a week, a set date, but soon it devolves into shooting each other a quick message if one of them is free to see if the other has time to meet as well. Suguru doesn’t always order something and he also doesn’t let Satoru pay for him all the time, but as long as one of them has something to drink they are not being kicked out at least.

Suguru knows that Satoru is curious, can see it in the glances he shoots him every now and then but so far he hasn’t asked and Suguru is thankful for it.

Their conversations tend to bounce around topics, from stupidly silly stuff to the more serious things, but somehow Suguru doesn’t feel comfortable telling Satoru about his situation yet.

It’s on a day when Suguru decides not to buy something that Satoru speaks up.

“Listen, Suguru,” Satoru starts with, and immediately Suguru tenses.

Of course this thing was too nice to last for long, he thinks and almost misses what Satoru says next, already so consumed by his heartbreak.

“I know that there are some things you don’t like to talk about,” Satoru says and reaches across the table, taking Suguru’s hand in his and Suguru clings to that point of contact.

That’s not something someone would do who is about to tell him to get lost and never come back, right?

“The same goes for me, but. I just want you to know that you can talk to me. When you’re ready. About anything. Just—putting that out there,” Satoru finishes with a weak smile and Suguru takes in a deep breath.

“I know,” he gives back, because he does and he wanted to tell Satoru so often already, but something is always holding him back and it has little to do with Satoru.

He’s ashamed, if Suguru is honest, even though it’ not his or his family’s fault but he still can’t shake that feeling. It doesn’t help that everything about Satoru screams money and the careless way he waves his credit card around, clearly not caring one bit for any money he spends only adds to the uneasy feeling in Suguru’s gut.

Satoru wouldn’t be the first person to leave him behind once he learns just how poor Suguru is, and while the others had sucked as well, this would hurt Suguru in a way none of the previous ones could.

For that he simply likes Satoru too much already and Suguru is certain it would take him a long time to pick himself up again should Satoru judge him in that way.

“I will, eventually, I think” he adds when Satoru continues to look at him and Suguru squeezes his hand. “It’s just—not easy.”

“I get that,” Satoru lightly says. “Like I said, there are things I haven’t said either, because it is hard, I just wanted you to know.”

“Well, the same goes for you, alright?” Suguru replies, because he needs Satoru to know that he can also tell him anything and Satoru smiles at him.

“I know,” he repeats Suguru’s own words, “but not yet.”

“Not yet,” Suguru agrees and relief floods his body.

He should have known that things would be this easy with Satoru, because everything with him has been easy.

And he will tell him, eventually. He just needs to gather a little bit more courage first.

~*~*~

Suguru feels like shit. Things have taken a turn for the worse, yet again, and his hands shake with the knowledge of what he has to do.

Satoru is already waiting for him, happily waving when he spots him and he points across from him where a coffee is already waiting for Suguru.

It makes him feel like crying.

Satoru never asks for him to pay him back, even though Satoru pays for both of them more often than not, and Suguru knows that he’s probably never going to ask but still.

It doesn’t sit right with him and with what happened at the beginning of the week he’s not sure he can take this kindness any longer.

“Satoru,” Suguru says as he sits down, pushing his coffee away from him and immediately Satoru’s face falls.

“Suguru,” he greets him in return but his shoulders are tense.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Suguru admits, scrubbing a hand over his face as he comes right out with it.

“Doing what?”

“Meeting with you, here. I don’t have the time and—I don’t have the money,” he admits, dropping his gaze to his hands so of course he sees it when Satoru hesitantly reaches out for him.

“What happened?” he asks when Suguru doesn’t pull his hands away and Satoru is quick to tangle their fingers together.

“Only bad things, like always,” Suguru bitterly says. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Satoru asks and Suguru heaves out a sigh.

If this is the last time he gets to see Satoru he might as well come clean about it, too. It’s not as if it’s going to matter if Satoru judges him for it afterwards, because they won’t see each other again.

“My mom’s back in the hospital and my dad’s old company cut the compensation money they are supposed to still pay him.”

“Is your mom okay?” Satoru asks and Suguru shrugs.

“No clue. They are doing tests again but at this point it’s all chronic anyway so I doubt they’ll find something new. The bills though, they will be brand-new and shiny and I won’t be able to pay them.”

“You said your dad’s old company skimped out on paying him?”

“The Gojo Group, yeah,” Suguru sighs out and notes how Satoru jerks at that. “They fuck you over, too?”

The Gojo Group is the biggest company in the area, so there’s really not much choice but to work there, especially with how many different branches they cover, but they are ruining more lives than Suguru cares to think about and it’s not as if the company or anyone else really cares about the lives of the employees.

Almost everyone in Suguru’s neighbourhood got fucked over by them and they show no signs of stopping any time soon.

“You can say that,” Satoru says, not meeting Suguru’s eyes and Suguru decides to drop it.

He can hardly fault Satoru for not wanting to talk about this.

“Well, my father got injured on the job, which should entitle him to life-long compensation, but of course they somehow found a loophole or whatever, so they are no longer paying him. Mom’s issues are from her work there as well, she was exposed to some kind of chemical there for too long and now it fucked her all up so—” Suguru trails off. “I’m the only one who really works anymore and with two sisters in college it’s not easy. I had to pick up some more work, to cover the essentials and even that is hard,” he admits and watches how Satoru works his jaw before he reaches into his pocket.

“I want you to call him,” he says as he slides a card over the table.

Suguru takes it, reads ‘Kento Nanami, lawyer’ and puts it right back.

“Did you not listen to me, Satoru? I don’t even have the money to buy myself a goddamn coffee, how do you think I’m going to pay for him?”

“He’s building a case against the Gojo Group. He’ll be thankful for everyone who comes forward and speaks to him and if you tell him I sent you, he’ll represent you for free.”

“You know him.”

“Have known him for a long time. I promise, he won’t charge you. If he doesn’t believe you, tell him to call me. He’ll get you your money, he’s the best.”

Suguru hesitantly picks up the card again.

“Are you sure? If he’s going to charge me for anything—” he trails off, because in the grand scheme of things what is one more bill he’s unable to pay, but it still doesn’t sit right with him.

“He won’t, I promise. And if he tries to, tell him to sent it to me. But he won’t.” Satoru seems completely certain about it and Suguru dares to believe him.

Even if this Kento loses whatever case he’s building, then at least Suguru can say he tried something. That has to count for something, too, right?

“Thank you,” Suguru softy says and slides the card into his pocket. “I will, then.”

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mutters, and takes his hand back, sliding both of them under the table.

It leaves Suguru feeling strangely cold.

“You still don’t want to meet again, right?” Satoru asks him and Suguru presses his lips together.

“It has nothing to do with want, Satoru,” he gently corrects him, giving him a sad smile. “I just can’t afford to. I don’t have the time or the means.”

“You know I don’t care about the money thing, right? I would happily pay for everything, if you’d let me. It doesn’t matter to me and I really don’t care.”

“I know,” Suguru whispers.

“But it doesn’t change anything,” Satoru quietly says and Suguru shrugs helplessly.

“You probably have no idea how it feels but it’s not good, Satoru. Knowing that even this coffee is breaking this week’s budget and knowing that it doesn’t even register for you. It might be misplaced pride or whatever but—I can’t stop thinking about it every time we meet. I don’t want it to be like that. And I truly no longer will have the time starting next week. I can’t juggle three shifts and a social life, let alone dating. It’s just not possible.”

“I see,” Satoru mutters as he nods. “I get it. I just—I really hate it. It sucks,” he then rushes out and Suguru laughs bitterly.

“That it fucking does. I like you, Satoru, I really do, and this sucks so much.”

“You—hate the Gojo Group, right?” Satoru asks after a moment and Suguru almost sprains his neck he nods so hard.

“Fuck, I hate them so much. They screw so many people over and don’t give a flying fuck. Everyone in that family and in executive positions in that company is rotten to the core and I would be happy to see them all drop dead, if I’m being honest,” he hisses out and while that wouldn’t solve any of his problems, it would bring him a lot of satisfaction, that’s for sure.

“Alright,” Satoru says, as if that just decided something for him and he taps the table again. “Call Nanami. And if after the trial you’d—I would just like to hear from you again,” Satoru finishes weakly and Suguru frowns at him.

“Okay,” he carefully says because he doesn’t know what’s going on with Satoru right now but in all honesty, there’s too much going on with himself for him to try and figure out someone else’s shit.

“Goodbye then, Suguru,” Satoru says and before Suguru can find his voice, Satoru has already left, coffee untouched and forgotten on the table.

It hurts Suguru’s heart to see him go, even if he was the one to decide this and it just confirms his believe that this is a week straight out of hell.

He just hopes that from now on things won’t get any worse.

~*~*~

“I’m supposed to tell you that Satoru sent me,” Suguru starts with as soon as Kento Nanami steps into the room and immediately Kento tenses.

“Of course he did,” Kento says with a sigh and sits down opposite of Suguru. “And for what did he sent you here, exactly?”

“The Gojo Group. He said you’re building a case against them. Both my parents worked there and—”

“Things are not looking great, I supposed,” Kento drily says and immediately his aura changes. “Tell me everything.”

So Suguru does. If nothing comes out of this, he at least has to admit that it feels good to get it all off his chest for once. Kento takes meticulous notes and he seems pleased by what Suguru tells him, so he has to believe that it’s something he can use to build his case even more.

“Are you willing to testify in court? Your parents, too?” Kento asks him once he’s done and Suguru nods.

“I am. I have to ask my parents, but I would think they’d say yes as well.”

“Wonderful,” Kento mutters, continuing to write things down.

“I—can probably talk to some of our neighbours? There are a lot of people who got screwed over by the Gojo Group and I think at least a few of them would be willing to talk to you.”

“That would be perfect. I’ve been trying to find more people willing to testify, but I wasn’t very successful. Everyone would help this case.”

“We didn’t know someone was doing this,” Suguru says with a shrug. “If not for Satoru I wouldn’t have either. And it’s not as if any of us have any money to spare on a lawyer.”

“Valid points, I should have considered this. But since I am building this case out of my own volition, I’m not going to charge anyone. I just need more people.”

“Believe me, there are more than enough,” Suguru promises him and he leaves the office with more of Kento’s cards and a promise to send as many people as he can.

Suguru wonders if Kento’s firm is prepared for the onslaught of people they will receive in the next few days.

~*~*~

“I would like to call on Gojo Satoru next,” Kento says and Suguru feels as if he’s having an out-of-body experience.

It can’t be true, he desperately thinks but when he looks up it’s Satoru—his Satoru—walking up. Satoru doesn’t look at him and Suguru feels as if he’s frozen right where he stands, a loud ringing in his ears.

He doesn’t hear anything Satoru says, doesn’t know why he’s on Kento’s side and not speaking out for his family but nothing makes sense anymore.

Except for how it totally does.

It explains the money Satoru has, the connections and why he flinched that one time Suguru talked about the Gojo Group.

It all makes sense and Suguru feels sick to his stomach.

The rest of the trial flies right by him and he doesn’t even hear what the verdict is or if there’s been one yet.

It’s only a few days later when his father excitedly waves around an official letter that it all truly sinks in.

They’ve won.

Kento won this case for them and Suguru’s family—and everyone else—is basically set for life. Every medical treatment of his mother will be paid for. His father will receive life-long compensation that is way higher than what the Gojo Group originally had to pay and because they tried to skimp out on it they are legally required to pay it for ten more years even after Suguru’s father dies, which means that he and his sisters are taken care of as well.

It’s everything Suguru never dared to hope for and he spends his fair share of tears over it before he quits two of his three jobs.

And then he messages Satoru to meet.

Satoru invites him over to his place, which is just as well with Suguru, because he really doesn’t want to do this in public and his hands shake with nerves as he rings on Satoru’s doorbell.

It’s not the outlandish apartment Suguru expected and he wonders if Satoru already down-sized after his family lost the case, even though this is still leagues nicer than anything Suguru knows.

There’s an awkward moment when Satoru opens the door, because Suguru can’t quite find his voice and clearly Satoru doesn’t know what to say either, so he simply waves him in. Satoru’s apartment is nice inside as well and Suguru is about to compliment him on it when Satoru speaks, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he needs to defend himself.

“Before you ask—and I know this is going to be the topic—I cut ties with my family as soon as I legally could. Nanami’s partner in that firm got me emancipated when I was sixteen. I did take a lot of my family’s money when I left but I haven’t spoken to them since. That trial was the first time I’ve even seen my parents in almost ten years.” Satoru works his jaw and Suguru’s head is just a mess of thoughts, just like his chest is a mess of emotions. “Of course I could never get rid of the name, though. So. How does it feel to find out I’m something you hate? Does that hurt?” Satoru asks him, his voice mocking and bitter and Suguru doesn’t think. He just acts.

The sound of his hand meeting Satoru’s cheek rings out loudly in the otherwise silent apartment.

“How dare you,” he hisses out but Satoru can’t even meet his eyes and this is all so wrong Suguru doesn’t even know where to start, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Marry me.”

That certainly gets Satoru’s attention.

“Huh?”

“If you marry me, then you can take my name, right? That’s a way to get rid of your family name,” Suguru says because he’s committed now that it’s out there even as his heart beats rabbit-fast in his chest.

“Suguru, what are you even saying? Did you not listen? I’m a Gojo, too. You said you want us all to drop dead where we stand.”

“Not you,” Suguru immediately says and steps close to pull Satoru into his arms.

It’s the most physical they’ve ever been despite the numerous dates they’ve been on and Suguru wonders why they’ve never done that before.

It feels as if Satoru was made to fit into his arms.

“You just said it, you broke with your family, you have nothing to do with them. And you worked with Kento against them, what more could I possibly ask of you?”

“I don’t—did it help then? I know he won the case but I don’t know what that means for every family. What it means for your family.”

“We’re set for life, Satoru, with everything. Your—the Gojo Group even has to pay us after my father eventually dies. Kento won it all for us.”

“That was all you, actually,” Satoru corrects him, finally bringing his arms around Suguru. “He told me that he’d never have gotten enough evidence without the people you brought to him.”

“Then it was all you,” Suguru corrects him and noses at Satoru’s temple. “Because you sent me his way. So thank you.”

“I just—I just wanted to help.”

“And you did, Satoru, you did so much for us.”

“You said you didn’t want to see me again,” Satoru reminds him of their last talk at the coffee shop and Suguru huffs.

“Because of extenuating circumstances not because I didn’t want to. I have missed you every day since then. I didn’t want to do it in the first place but everything was so much and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you do want to see me?” Satoru asks and tightens his arms around Suguru as if he’s afraid that he could slip through his fingers at any moment now.

“I do, Satoru, I do. If you still want, of course.”

“You just asked to marry me,” Satoru replies as if that makes any sense.

“And you didn’t answer me,” Suguru reminds him. “So I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“It means that I think we should date for real first,” Satoru softly says and brushes his lips against Suguru’s neck. “And then see where that gets us.”

It’s a reasonable suggestion, Suguru has to admit that but still.

“When we marry, you’ll take my name, though. Just putting that out there so you can’t act all surprised when it happens.”

“When, huh?” Satoru mutters and Suguru goes hot when he presses his face into Suguru’s throat. “You that certain?”

“I was already in love with you back then,” Suguru admits because it’s not as if he has to hold anything back anymore. “I doubt that’s going to change.”

“Despite me being a Gojo?”

“Excuse me, you’re a soon-to-be-Geto,” he corrects him which makes Satoru laugh.

Suguru doesn’t even mind that he’s pulling away from him because it only means he gets to see the happiness on Satoru’s face.

“Soon-to-be Geto Satoru,” Satoru says. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah, there’ll be a ring alright,” Suguru grumbles and does what he should have done at their second date but was too scared to do: he puts his hand to Satoru’s neck and pulls him right in for a kiss.

He’s met with no resistance at all, Satoru an eager participant in the kiss and Suguru finds himself wanting to do it again as soon as they part.

“We’re doing this all out of order,” Satoru mutters and Suguru shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter as long as we’re doing it,” he gives back and dives right back in for another kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips and he hopes Satoru knows just how grateful Suguru is for everything he’s done for him.

“This is not some strange guilt thing or anything, right? Or gratitude.”

“It most definitely is not,” Suguru assures him. “I wanted to do that way before all of this happened.”

“Okay then,” Satoru nods and leans their foreheads together. “Still, dating first. Real dating. Then we can talk about getting married.”

“First date right now,” Suguru demands because while he sees the merit of what Satoru says, it also sounds stupid and as if it’s going to cost them way too much time.

Better start the dating right now.

“Deal,” Satoru says with a big smile and then steps out of Suguru’s reach to put on shoes. “A dinner date. You’re paying.”

Suguru laughs at that because for once hearing it doesn’t make dread crawl up his back and it doesn’t sent his mind into overdrive to figure out if he can afford it.

And it’s all thanks to Satoru.

“Deal,” he agrees and threads their fingers together. “Next date it’s your turn though.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Satoru gives back and drops another quick kiss onto Suguru’s lips.

Things are absolutely, phenomenally perfect in Suguru’s opinion and he can’t wait to make them even more perfect by giving Satoru his name. And he’s definitely not going to wait years to do it.

(It takes them eight months. Mostly because for whatever reason Satoru is being stubborn about it and turns Suguru’s proposals in month three and five down. And then Suguru turns Satoru’s proposal in month six down because of the principal of the thing. They do get it right, eventually, and once Satoru is officially Geto Satoru he stops being informal with everyone and gleefully demands people use his family name. It always gets Suguru a little hot and bothered when he does and he encourages it shamelessly.)

[i-want-to-be-a-poet]

Yet I will go on with my futile efforts. I want to be a poet, so I will try my best <3