#and they wouldnt have bright fluorescent lights

[swagging-back-to]

i find it so interesting how mice from a petstore will always be awake during the day and sleeping at night until they're left to acclimate and make their own schedule.

#there are no breeders in new england north of new york so I have to go to a petstore #thankfully tho the two i go to seem to somewhat provide for their mice. like #i havent gotten a pregnant female which tells me they separate them by sex properly #none of them have been sick right from the petstore either. #none of them have injuries from stress fighting #and they actually throw in a few toys for them to play with. #it isnt great by any means but it's way better than it could be. it's better than some mice from breeders are. #ive seen people talking about how their mice are sick the day they got them from the breeder/died right after/have no socialization at all #all my mice except for EXACTLY two (out of 12 mice I've had now.) have been socialized and liked to be held right out of the carrier box. #a lot of them chose to stay on me instead of going into their new tanks. #but no anyway no longer getting side tracked; you'd think mice from a petstore would sleep #during the day and be awake all night long bc that's when no one would be at the store to watch them #and they wouldnt have bright fluorescent lights #but it's the exact opposite. theyre wide awake all day long. They don't even go into their house until it becomes night time #and ig you could say it's bc they're exploring their new enriched environment with all the new smells #and houses and toys and foods #but #i think it has more to do with their time at the petstore. even tho the petstores put the mice and rats out back way out of view #to the point i got lost my first time in there and had to ask for help #it's like they dont even really know how to be mice yet #and given the fact all my girlies were babies when I got them (super tiny) they're just doing what they've done their entire lives

[atlasifyllm]

paladin anatomy hdcs:

they technically don't have the organs to sense ANYTHING, but still manage to be able to hear/see/feel/taste/smell

they don't have bones either, they have the illusion of bones but you cant really break a paladins' arm. they'd get freaked out if you tried to though because they know something's off if a limb is bent the "wrong" way

cutting them open reveals that underneath the skin is just weird fluorescent blood and light energy

if you managed to xray a paladin it would literally be a silhoutette of extremely bright light and the vague shape of their soul in their chests

they emit a faint glow at night, not enough to light up a room but enough to look weird in the distance if it was really dark out

they eat flowers because they love the color and need the light energy

they can also absorb light energy by napping in the sunlight, though they dont do this for long periods of time because they got Paladin Shit to do, and they prefer eating

hypothetically they may hibernate during the winter because there's less sunlight to absorb

technically their clothes are also part of their physical form, they just dont feel any sensation in them but they wouldnt know how to take them off either

their blood is fluorescent but they cry actual watery tears because of all the water in the flowers they consume

complementary color paladins can't touch each other for long periods of time because the point of contact will start turning white, which feels like burning because it's too strong for their soul colors

depending on the soul color, paladins will dissolve in deep water, hence why rubra would be scared of the ocean/swimming. modern day paladins are flesh and blood so they dont have to worry about this but ruby and other red paladins in particular would just evolve this instinct because of rubra's fear

all of these apply to the ancient paladins; "paladin creature" paladins, and not the modern day paladins who have hueman bodies

#atlas speaks; #sul text;

[mixchsm]

The Fall And The Plateau - DabiHawks Quick Write

Keigo opens his eyes slowly, feeling the bright light from the window trailing in between the curtains. His head turns to it, pain shooting through his entire body in that moment. Its like tiny arrows making their way around- they’re circulating his blood stream and slicing at every single nerve he has. He forces himself to sit up, wincing at the disgusting pain finding its own pulsing pace. He practically screams at the top of his lungs, hunching over the side of the bed.

It's a weird feeling, not having his wings anymore. They’re gone, but the stems still remain. The molted feathers are scattered around the messy apartment, and everytime he looks at them he feels disgusted, enraged, and destroyed.

He can’t watch the news. He can’t watch anything without some sort of commercial talking about the ‘fall from grace’. Keigo didn’t even do anything wrong, but its almost like he couldn’t do anything right either. Fans were supportive, writing letters on small red feather paper cards- which only made him feel worse. He wanted to be left alone to wallow in his own pity, but of course that wasn’t possible. Creeping, cruel thoughts found their way into his mind, eating away at him.

Keigo would soar through the sky above everyone else, watching chaos down below. Hero's going left and right attempting to make sure their city was safe, and of course he catches Dabi’s eyes as it seems everything takes a turn for the worse. Normally, when they were in public, there was a signature smirk to his movements. He’d light a fire under him just hot enough for a few burn marks in his clothes, but this time the look on his face was so terror-stricken that even Keigo felt a chill go down his spine.

Of course he didn’t see those eyes when he woke up; just saw bright fluorescents of the hospital, and he could only feel the sharp shooting pain in his back. Writhing in pain he grips the side of the bed, but his heart rate monitor beeps erratically. Then, it's like everything goes blank.

Keigo can remember Dabi knocking at the door to his apartment- he’d holed up there after leaving the hospital- kicking at it, screaming obscenities at him for not opening it. Dabi didn’t take it too well, upset that Keigo wouldnt let him in; of all the times Dabi had broken down, felt too low, felt like everything was crashing down- Keigo was there, and yet in his time of need, he wouldn’t let him in. Keigo was too embarrassed of the body he had, the pain, the disdain- he couldn’t let Dabi see him like this.

Keigo snaps himself back to reality with a knock at the door and he lets out a sigh. It’s probably a fan, or Endeavor. “Go away..” he calls, his voice coarse and gritty.

There’s no response, and he slowly but surely makes his way to the bathroom. He looks awful. His body had too many cuts and bruises and stitches in it, there were no wings anymore- the bathroom he’d been using for over a decade had never felt so incredibly large and lonely. He grips the sink, hunching over it and staring at the face he barely recognizes anymore. With a quivering lip, he breaks into a sob almost immediately. He falls onto his knees on the ground, more pain shattering every nerve he’s got. The screams echo in the bathroom, and just as he wails again he feels two warm arms wrap around him.

“I’ve got you..” Dabi shushes him, applying pressure against the more injured parts to focus the pain there. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

Everything Keigo had feared was happening, being seen at his lowest, and yet nothing brought him higher than Dabi’s touch on him. Everything hurts. Everything is so disgustingly painful and yet, Dabi kept whispering the same thing over and over again, kissing the side of his head and leaning against the wall to keep the both of them in place. Keigo didn’t even think about the way he’d gotten into the apartment to begin with.

After thirty minutes or so, Keigo had managed to get himself to stop crying, gripping tightly onto Dabi’s coat. “Dabi..” he whimpers, a calloused thumb finding its way to the stray tear falling down his cheek.

“What is it, bir-” he cuts himself off, “baby..”

“It hurts.”

“I know..” he hums, scooping Keigo into his arms and standing up slowly “I'll get you in the bathtub..”

Dabi carefully covers his body in warm water once the tub is full, Keigo’s leaning against his chest slightly. He looks so incredibly broke, so disappointed in himself. “You’re alright..”

Keigo has never heard Dabi sound so sweet, so kind, so tender, so.. Loving. To him, he assumed there was nothing between them. There wouldn't be anything between them, and yet here he was- the one person who had managed to slip past his defenses. This villain had gotten him to unwind in a way nobody could have ever anticipated. And yet, despite his being a villain, he’s so gentle with every movement.

#dabihawks #dabi #keigo takami #fluff #fluff writing #hurt comfort #writing #fic writing #drabble #quick write #my hero academia

[riseandshinelittleblossom]

Go Mets!

A/N: This is my submission for the wonderful @mf-despair-queen‘s 2019 Dylan O’Brien Baseball Week.  This is my first ever Dylan fic, as well as my first ever reader insert (ish) fic, so keep that in mind hahahaha I hope you enjoy it!

 Also! DISCLAIMER: I write this purely for fun, I don’t get paid or anything like that, I’m just borrowing our favorite Mets fan for a bit of  good natured fun...

Warnings: light swearing, because it wouldnt be a riseandshinelittleblossom fic without it. :D

Shout out to my wonderful friend @ao719 for indulging me and pre-reading this for me..girl your rock!

 Tags: @leelee10898 @fullbeaumonty @kennaxval @superapplepie @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @stiles-o-dylan24  @ownworldresident @mrscutiefandobhaz

    Dylan held out his arm, staggering backwards a bit as he caught the baseball in his well-worn mitt.

    “Hey, nice one Maggie!” He chuckled.

    The six year old across the yard beamed at him and he couldn't help but feel his heart melt seeing her snaggletooth grin.

     He was so proud of how much she had progressed since he first started bringing her out back to play catch two years ago.

     His friends had all warned him to steer clear of getting into a relationship with you because dating a single mother also meant “you have to play Dad,” but that had never worried him in the least. Maggie was a good kid, really smart, and she shared Dylan's passion for baseball and the Mets. These days he couldn't imagine a better way to spend his time off between filming than to be in the backyard helping her practice for her little league games.

   She flipped her long, chocolate- colored plait over her shoulder and resumed her batting stance.

   “Okay, Dyl. Let's have another one. And don't go easy on me this time.” She sassed.

   “Go easy on you? I would never..” he feigned innocence, grasping the ball firmly and grinding into the mitt a few times.

   Maggie rolled her eyes, the bat falling to her side.

   “I'm serious, O'Brien. You think the girls on the Grizzlies are gonna go easy on me this weekend? Not a chance! They're out for blood after we wiped the floor with them last season.”

   “Out for blood, huh? Okay, well pick up the bat and I promise I won't hold back then, Princess.”

    She resumed her stance and Dylan shook his head.

    “Here,” he began crossing the yard in a few strides to stand behind her. He widened her grip on the bat and helped her crouch a bit lower. “Gotta widen that stance, baby girl. Otherwise the first speed ball's gonna knock you right off of home plate.”

      He returned to the makeshift pitcher's mound that he and Maggie had made with a pile of her kinetic sand. It was a project that you had been none too happy about.

      He stomped his feet a few times before releasing a steady pitch.

      With a loud crack, the young girl sent the ball sailing away from her. Dylan hit a backwards run in an attempt to catch it, but it soared over the fence anyway.

   You watched from the open kitchen window as your boyfriend raced across the yard and hefted the small girl onto his shoulder.

   “And the Mag-ster rounds first! She's off to second! Oh my God, she's flying past third! Aaaand she makes it all the way home!” He shouted as he ran a circle in the yard and Maggie cheered, her small fists pumping into the air as Dylan mimicked the sound of a crowd roaring. He placed the child on the ground and you couldn't help but chuckle.

    You and Dylan had been going steady for two years now, but it always made you smile to watch him with Maggie. He was the best daddy to her that he never had to be and it made you love him even more.

      You thought back to the day that he first entered you and Maggie's lives as you finished washing up the mountain of dishes in the sink.

***********”**

     You adjusted the settings outside of the batting booth before crouching in front of your preschooler.

    “You sure you want to do the batting cages? We could go for another round of skee ball instead.” You suggested as the little girl before you adjusted her baseball helmet and shook her head. The child-sized aluminum bat in her hand still looked humongous and you bit your lip, wondering why you'd agreed to let her go in there and let a machine lob baseballs at her.

    “I wanna baseball! I'm tired of just tee ball! It's time to break into the big girl game, because one day I'm gonna play for the New York Mets.” She told you matter-of-factly as she stepped into the cage.

   You blamed the babysitter. She was a sweet woman that kept Maggie for next to nothing and she had two boys of her own that were only a little older for your daughter to play with.

   The sitter's oldest son, Jacob, was nine and he played little league, which meant he and his brother often tried to get Maggie to play catch with them outside. Jacob was Maggie's hero and a die-hard New York Mets fan. All the time she spent with Jacob had ignited a fire within your near five year old. It had started with endless tee ball games in the local junior league and now...batting cages at the family fun arena.

   You wrung your hands nervously as the first pitch shot out. You'd set the machine on the lowest setting but it still felt like the ball was the Roadrunner, jetting away from Wile E. Coyote as it hurdled towards your small child. Certainly anyone watching must have thought you were insane to let her in there.

   Maggie held her own, swinging confidently even though the ball barely glanced the end of her bat. The metallic ting caused her to giggle wildly.

   “I hit it!” She shouted.

   “Hey, good job!” a male voice came from behind.

   You whipped your head to see a tall slender man wearing khaki pants and, coincidentally, a Mets jersey. Your eyes scanned over him, your bottom lip tucking itself involuntarily between your teeth.

   He twisted his baseball cap, leaving the bill sticking out behind him and tucked his folded sunglasses into his shirt. He gave you a polite smile and nod, the fluorescent lights overhead catching his honey colored eyes just enough to make them sparkle.

   Your heart all but stopped as you smiled back and quickly averted your gaze, embarrassed that he'd no doubt noticed you checking him out.

    “Thank you. She lives for this stuff.” You said shyly.

     TING

   “I hit it again!” Maggie squealed in delight, turning to face you. “Who's he?”

   She scrunched her face up as she stepped out of the cage.

  “Oh I was just waiting my turn is all. I'm going to use the cage when you're finished. Nice form in there,though. If you'd like, maybe I could give you some pointers.” The man said.

     “You would?!” She squawked.

    You were taken aback by the way he peered directly into Maggie's eyes when he talked to her. Not many people were so attentive when they spoke, especially to children. It made your knees feel weak as he trained his eyes on you in the same fashion.

   “I'm Dylan.” He offered, extending a hand.

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

    Your attention was pulled back to the present as you heard Maggie's sassy, near whiny voice through the window.

   “I am NOT a baby anymore, Dylan. I'm getting bigger everyday, you know.” She scoffed.

   He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

   You stepped onto your tiptoes to get a better view of the two loves of your life, straining to hear their conversation. They were seated on the patio now, Dylan helping Maggie oil her own glove as well as his own.

    “Mommy says that if I want to keep playing I have to take good care of my equipment. She said only responsible players get into the big leagues, so I have been trying to oil my mitt like you showed me, but sometimes it's hard.” The girl huffed as her mentor lifted his large hands-the ones that plagued your every day dream- and placed them over hers, patiently guiding her movements.

   “You want to make sure you get into every groove, Princess. Every crevice. See? You've got it. I'm so glad to hear you've been listening to Mom while I've out of town, though.”

     You let out a sigh, a warm feeling spreading from your chest throughout your body, a small chuckle escaping you. How did you ever get lucky enough to find him?

    “Dylan, can I ask you a question?” Maggie piped up.

     “Anything, squirt. What's on your mind?”

    “Why were you and Mommy yelling at each other last night?”

     Dylan's eyes went wide as he turned his gaze to his own mitt.

    “Wha..wuddaya mean? We weren't-”

     “Come on, O'Brien. I'm not deaf. You were saying, ‘Oh, Y/N,’ and Mommy kept screaming 'Dylan, oh my God’. Were you guys fighting?”

    You tried to stifle a laugh, your hand flying over you lips as you remembered the absolutely mind blowing events from the night before. The ones your daughter had apparently overheard. You could barely see your boyfriend's cheeks turning bright red right about now and you would have paid good damned money to get a view of that up close.

    “Uh, no. We weren't...we weren't fighting, Princess.” Dylan tried to be vague and he cleared his throat. You knew he was silently hoping that his answer had been enough to end the conversation, but you also knew Maggie better than that.

   “Oh. Well then what were you doing?”

    Dylan turned to wipe off his hands, holding the towel out for Maggie to do the same.

    “We were...we were talking in our sleep.”

    “I heard banging, Dyl.”

     The dark haired man gulped audibly, one hand rubbing over the days old stubble of his chin.

    “Uh...that? Oh we were… okay listen. You know I love your Mommy, right Princess?”

    Maggie nodded, “Yep! And she loves you.”

    “That's right. So we love each other. Sometimes, uh...when a boy loves a girl...ya know...they...dance...together?”

      You cackled softly listening to Dylan not even buying his own bullshit.

   “Oh. But I can dance without banging, see?”

   Maggie hopped from her seat and swept into a graceful ballerina twirl, her hands above her head.

    “Well that's because you're a beautiful baseball-playing ballerina, and as such you're very graceful. Mommy and I...well, we're sort of clumsy.”

   The child laughed. “So you mean you guys fall down a lot?”

   “Exactly.”

    “So that's why you were yelling right? You just kept knocking each other down?” the six year old cocked a skeptical eyebrow and Dylan nodded.

    “You're gonna have to do better than that, Dyllie. I'm not buying it.”

     Your boyfriend let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay how's this? We were dancing together because we love each other and we're clumsy so we kept falling down, but then he had...um bruises..?” He stopped short, clearly at a loss.

   “The truth, please. I was born at night but not last night, ya know?” Maggie sassed with an eye roll.

   “Okay the truth is... The truth is that I love your Mom and she loves me and sometimes when you love someone so much you just...you want to show them. There are things that you will learn about when you're older that help grown ups show each other how much they love their boyfriend or their girlfriend. And so..that's what we were doing. But those things are for grown ups only. I mean...grown ups that love each other and want to get married someday...not just any old boyfriend and girlfriend…”

     Your heart stopped at the thought. You and Dylan had been together for a long time, but somehow you'd never talked about marriage before.

    Maggie stared at him, one eyebrow cocked, her face scrunched in thought.

    “Do you..? You understand anything I just said?” He asked nervously.

    “Uuuuhhhh…..go Mets?” Maggie replied still obviously confused.

    Dylan laughed loudly as he ruffled her hair. “That's my girl!”

    “I don't even wanna know anymore,” she shook her head. “As long as you promise you and Mommy aren't breaking up.”

    Dylan wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her into a tight hug.

   “No way, Princess. You two aren't going to get rid of me that easily.”

     “Hey, Mommy!” Maggie beamed as you appeared in the sliding glass doorway.

      “Hey, kiddo. Why don't you take your gear upstairs for me? Dylan and I need to talk.”

      She complied with your request, gathering her belongings and tossing them into her athletic bag before hefting it inside.

     You grinned widely at Dylan as your daughter disappeared up the stairs. He exhaled audibly, silently mouthing “thank you,” as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

       He ambled across the patio, wrapping his long arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

   “I know you were listening, you evil woman. Way to leave me hanging.”  Dylan muttered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His whiskey eyes were locked on yours, making your knees suddenly feel weak.

   “I dunno, you seemed to be handling things pretty well on your own.”  You smugly replied.

    “Yeah? You think so? I'd love to show you a few other things I can handle pretty well.” he pressed his lips to yours and you giggled into the caress.

    “You mean like...Go Mets?”

    He scoffed, giving you his near award-winning, lopsided smile.

    “You're damn right, go Mets.”

#dylan o'brien #dylan obrien fan fic #dylan obrien one shot #go mets #dylan baseball week #baseball week 2019 #yeet

[woildismyerster]

hello I’ve tried to wait as long as possible to make this request since I know the I Love You series was a big request already buuuut I miss your Race fluff. like, a lot😂

There always needs to be more Race fluff.  Always always always

In general, you knew that any decision made at three in the morning was a bad call.  Don’t make a life changing choice in the middle of the night.  Don’t send big texts.  Don’t try to rope people into plans that you made when exhaustion or insomnia powered you.  It was a bad idea, so you never really did it.

Tonight, however, was one of the nights when the world felt far too big.  Your bedroom did not make everything feel cozy and safe.  Your chest was unsettled and tight, and sleep was an elusive companion.  You didn��t want to feel so alone, so you texted Race.

Y/N:  you up?

Race:  sleep is for the dead

Race:  whats up

You didn’t really know what was up.  Everything was up.  Nothing was up.  You just wanted to feel like there was somebody out there, who mattered to you and who you mattered to, and that person had always been and would always be Race.

Race was your best friend.  He was The Friend.  The one that, no matter who else came and went, you planned on keeping.  You were college students now, connected by campus and classes and common friends.  You would make sure to stay with him after, when you were finding careers and life partners and forever homes.

In a way, you supposed, that would make him your life partner.  

Y/N:  we should rob a bank

Race:  thats more of a two am thing

Y/N:  we should go get orange juice

Race:  k

There were some stores that belonged to the night, even though they were open during the day.  When you and Race went out on middle–of-the-night-adventures, which was honestly more common than it should have been, your go-to night store was Speedway.  Race met you outside your apartment, eyes bright in a way that you recognised.

“Rough night?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve been working on that paper for History.”

Translation - I’ve slept 4 hours in the past three days, and I save my homework for nighttime so I don’t just lay in bed wishing I was asleep.

“It’s a good thing we’re getting orange juice, then,” you said.  “That’s gotta be good for your brain.”

“Definitely.  Maybe we should get chocolate.  It releases endorphins.”

You liked walking at night.  It was a little eerie, the way there weren’t many cars, but it was nice.  “Do you even know what endorphins are?”

“Happy hormones,” he said vaguely.  

“I need some of those,” you agreed.  “I need, like, a billion happy hormones.  Tell me about your paper.”

Race’s voice soothed that anxiety in your chest.  He talked about a ten page paper about the effects of slavery on America until you reached the bright lights of the gas station.

“I think we’ll get murdered in here,” you commented as you pushed the door open.

The fluorescents flickered, making his blond hair almost white.  “We come here all the time.  I think we’re safe.”

“This is a place where a horror movie would start.”  You gestured to the aisles, the weary teen at the counter, the darkness outside.  “If you don’t think a serial killer is staking us out, you’re delusional.”

He laughed.  “Are we at the beginning of the movie, or the end?”

You looked thoughtfully at the drink selection.  Should you get two small bottles of juice, or one big jug?  2 separate things, where you get a little?  One big thing, where you have to put your mouth where Race’s was, and he probably hogs the whole thing?

You grabbed the jug.

“The beginning.  Everybody is watching, knowing that we’re goners, but we have no idea.”

Race came up behind you with a handful of candy bars.  “You are literally talking about getting murdered right now.  You have every idea about it.”

You shrugged.  “I don’t make the rules -”

“You only enforce them,” he finished.  He shoved the candy into the pocket of your hoodie so he could pull out his wallet.  He always insisted on paying for these excursions, saying that it was always for his benefit.  At first, you tried to explain that these were for you, but he didn’t listen.  He paid every time, so you stopped complaining.  If it made him feel better, all power to him.

You stood outside while he paid.  You didn’t like seeing the sleepy, zombie faces of night workers.  Your phone buzzed with a text from Race.

Race:  i think this guy is the serial killer

Y/N:  i told you

Race:  this is all your fault.  we wouldnt be about to die if you didnt want orange juice

Y/N:  sorry i wanted to spend time with you bb

Race:  youll def be sorry later

You grinned at him when he came outside, bag in hand.  “Ready to die?”

“Once I’ve had some chocolate,” he said.  “Your place or mine?”

You considered.  “Let’s just find a bench.”

The bench turned out to be outside a closed coffee shop.  Maybe you would get in trouble for sitting there if a cop came, but it was a nice spot to share your bounty.

It was 4 AM.  Better for big decisions, but not when neither of you had gotten any sleep.

“Alright,” he said thoughtfully.  “Marry Spot, or marry Crutchie?”

“Crutchie,” you said immediately.  “He makes that really good cake, you know the one?”

Race grinned.  “For sure, for sure.”  He took a big gulp of orange juice.  You had been right; he was hogging it.  “Crutchie or Jack?”

“Crutchie.  Cake.”  You snagged the juice.  You knew that you couldn‘t taste Race on the bottle, but you liked to imagine that you could.

“Me or Crutchie?”

You choked a little on the juice, covering for yourself by popping in a few M&Ms.  “You.”

Race waggled his eyebrows.  “I’m better than cake?”

You shrugged.  “There are two types of friends.  You’re one kind, he’s the other.”

“What are the kinds of friends?”

You squirmed a little.  4 AM.  Bad call.  Don’t do it.  “When I make a friend, I kinda know from the start if they’re friend-friends or friends I would date.  It changes sometimes, but I always have some idea of it.”

You felt Race freeze, but his hand was steady as he rose a Butterfinger to his mouth.  “Which one am I?”

Don’t do it.  “Crutchie is a friend-friend.  He just happens to make matrimony worthy cake.”

“And I’m a date-friend?”

You popped another few M&Ms, nervous.  “Yep.  Want more juice?”

Race put his candy down.  “Really?  You’d date me?”

“Of course I would,” you said with a little surprise.  You had kind of thought that he knew.  You thought that everybody knew.  “You’re probably the only person I want to date.”

Race smiled at you, that manic glint to his eyes gone.  He looked completely grounded.  “I had no idea.  I would have asked you out ages ago if I did.”

You didn’t know what to say.  “Nice,” you croaked.

“You know,” he said cheerily, “if chocolate releases a billion endorphins, I’ll bet kissing releases a trillion.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he leaned forward to catch the sound with his own.  He tasted like candy and juice and a little bit of mint, probably from the peppermints he always sucked on while he did homework.  Your hands traced the line of his jaw, and the world didn’t feel very big at all.  It felt like the perfect size.

#Newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies x reader #racetrack higgins #racetrack higgins x reader #race higgins #racetrack higgins/reader #race/reader #ally writes

[fredheads]

Tell me about the time Fred got a migraine while at school?

oh boy… i’ve been there, fred…. 

it started in math class. he was staring at the board trying to figure out why he was having so much trouble reading the numbers when he realized there were zigzag fissures and blind spots in his vision, almost blotting out his sight. he’d had enough migraines by then to know one was coming on. all he could think was not now. he was in the middle of a test, he had a big date tonight, he was supposed to give a presentation worth 40% of his mark last period…. he prayed it would be a little one. 

he put up his hand quickly and asked to go to the water fountain. his mouth was really dry and he figured anything he could do to lessen the headache was worth trying… unfortunately it was a test period, and they wouldnt let him leave. he started trying to massage his neck and shoulders by himself, hoping it was just a tension thing. but he was wiggling around so much in his chair he got in trouble and got told to sit still. 

he could have put up a fuss and got himself escorted to the nurse, but the best she could have done was told him to lie down and it was much more likely he was just going to get a wet paper towel and maybe a chewable asprin and sent back to class. he didnt want anyone to think he was cheating on the test and the pain hadnt hit yet so he just stayed put. it was really hard to do the test with the aura in his vision - and math wasnt his strongest subject in the first place. he waded through it and hit the water fountain as soon as he left class. 

by the time they got to the next class the headache had started in the front of his head - a tight pressure above his eyes. the fluorescent classroom lights were really not helping - shadows were so dark and he couldnt look out the windows or directly at the lights without wincing. even though the aura had cleared up, his vision was still weird, like he’d just had a photo taken with the flash on. the cafeteria fish sticks were really not sitting well in his stomach either. he’d eaten two servings at lunch because he’d been so hungry after an early baseball practice that even caf food had seemed appealing. now he couldnt imagine ever being hungry again. the thought of food made him want to hurl. 

by then the throbbing pain had started and it was all he could do not to moan or cry. he was trapped at his desk while other kids gave presentations, which might have been his saving grace because no one was looking at him or asking him to contribute. he was sweating and nauseated and his head was pounding like someone was drilling it. he tried to breathe through the pain but it just got worse. he ended up chewing on his thumb trying to distract himself. all he wanted to do was just put his head down on his desk and hide in the dark. he wanted someone to step on his neck and break it. it hurt so much. 

he knew he should have put his hand up and asked to go home, but he didnt want to bring attention to himself and he didnt think he could open his mouth without being sick. he didnt want to talk. he didnt want his dad to be disappointed in him. and because they were presenting their assignments, attendance was mandatory. he already knew it was going to last all evening too, and all homework was a write-off. everytime someone clapped at the end of the presentations it sounded so loud to his ears. it was like a jackhammer to the head. 

the pain only got worse. when everyone was clapping for ricky mantle’s report, he actually stood up and walked out of the class. he knew he couldnt go back in without being interrogated, so he tried to drink some more at the water fountain. he could barely get it to go down and leaning over made him dizzy. the lights were too bright in the hall, so he squeezed into the bathroom and just sat on the closed toilet lid in the end stall, his face buried in his knees. his stomach was too shaky to be too far from a toilet. he locked his hands together over his head and wished he was anywhere else. 

of course, that’s where fp found him. fred just had to grit out the word “headache” and he understood. he gently led him down the hall to the main office and sat him in a chair while he called bunny. he lent fred his ball cap so he could yank it down over his eyes and block out most of the light. he sat with him, rubbing his back, until his mom showed up to sign him out. 

fp came over after school under the pretense of dropping off homework and bunny let him in even though fred wasnt doing much better - just lying on his bed in the dark, trying to nap. fp lay next to him quietly until fred dozed off. fred missed his date with hermione that night and woke up around 8 with a milder headache and his photosensitivity all gone. to his relief, he woke up the next morning without a headache at all. 

#blogofabingewatcher #MY POOR SON

[tentegen]

5 years....and a ton of pain(t).

WHY IVE BEEN FOCUSING ON THIS FOR 5 WHOLE YEARS IS TO ONLY BE DEBATED BY PHILOSOPHERS, MAD MEN, AND THOSE THAT BRING THEIR CRYING CHILD TO THE MOVIE THEATER. 

I took this on as a fun little thing to do. 

Never thought it would take 5 years to figure out how to simply get the paint on the fabric and not have it deteriorate with general use and folding. Then there’s the problem with the glowing....but not looking ugly or just plain stupid at the same time.

THANK FUCKING GOD I THINK I DISCOVERED WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON WITH THE PAINT but this whole rant is about glow stuffs And I’m about to show you 5 years of bullshittery that I’ve learned JUST to solve this one particular problem.

To start things off, here’s the deal as far as making ANY of these is concerned:

Ghostfreak is easy as tits. Its also the least expensive too. 

Just a few spreads of paint............all consisting of maybe a grand total of 3 - 5 hrs with a blow dryer and that thing is done and costing only $25 bucks.

I would have to special order the hoodie offline mind you. Everyone seems obsessed with Gildan’s Heather Gray hoodie instead of sending the lighter “Sport Grey” to stores. The black stripes dont show up well on Dark Heather so thats always a swell fookin time waiting for stuff from an online store...........versus just walking into a store and just getting the thing.

but, all.....in all,

its easy to do k?

UPGRADE AND HEATBLAST HOWTHEFUCKEVER.....:

THESE TWO THINGS RIGHT HERE???

THESE TWO THINGS HAVE BEEN A MONSTRUS PAIN IN THE ASS TO FIND TOGETHER IN THE SAME PRODUCT.

You wouldnt think so initally. Just find green paint and some Phosphorescent paint.

“WhY, thEY’rE boTH PAiNtS! CaNt yoU jUSt CoMbiNE THem?? eEEasY - PesSy!“

Phosphorescent paints are the selfish kid in kindergarten that ate glue in the corner and doesnt like to play with others. Theyre picky, temperamental little shits that, when combined, their phosphor crystals dilute like a weeaboo in a conversation thats not about anime and refuse to do anything else useful................like their one and only job.................WHICH IS TO GLOW IN THE DARK.

Tulip is some weird science experiment that no one but Tulip knows whats in it and even THAT paint didn't help. Hell, tulip always cracks on me after awhile of general use and folding so they were the FIRST paint I marked off the list. 

(I have a HUGE COLLECTION of Tulip paint too)

So, 

The answer my fine gentlecolts and mares is, YOU HAVE TO FIND THEM CHEMICALLY COLORED. the phosphors, depending on what material they are made from, are gonna be a pale, off color sort of thing. thats what is apparently known as “Natural”. Afterwards, the color has to be chemically added. 

Done right,

and you get these fine gifts from god.

Done wrong,

and you get these expensive, pitiful dumpster fires of paint.

If you value your hard earned money, YOU WILL NOT GET THIS. This $8.00 farce is a runny mess of a lie. I have tested the glow twice on occasion and the green barely lit up after sitting in a brightly lit store for 6 hours.

again, if you dont believe me, check this video out:

I want this hoodie to do BOTH. 

Whats so cool about having a Upgrade hoodie that is just green................but doesnt glow. MissedOpprotunity.jpg.

and yet, 

Whats the point of having a Upgrade hoodie that glows.........but looks like pasty toothpaste in the day time?

Luckly enough, this 7th time searching for paints finally landed me on a paint I can use.

Today I found a product by Glonation. Dont know where they were all my life and I mean that in the most LITERAL SENSE..........but from a video and several reviews, they seem to FINALLY do BOTH the things I need the paint to do. 

Luckly, perseverance lead me to a knowledgeable person at Michaels that told me that to get paint to “Fluoresce” under black light, It simply just needs to be a bright enough color. No special chemicals or anything. Colors and materials all tend to have their own varying amount of phosphors that react under UV Light. Some just react better than others............which is why teeth and shoes tend to glow as well under Black light.

So,

Journey over right? Win - Win all around?

*sigh*

+$13 for glow stuffs

+$9-$17 for Hoodie

+$7 for Jaquard Screen Paint

+$10 for shipping once bought

+$???? time and labor

Total:

Upgrade: $40 - $50 dollar jacket NOT INCLUDING Time and labor

Heatblast: $60 - $70 Because I would need A SECOND glow color and a paint additive to make the “Rocky” part have a bit of relief off of the jacket.

I guess,

In conclusion.................it was a fun Idea while it lasted. 5 FUCKING YEARS.

I guess my next step will be to just make one for myself. I still want to see it come to fruition no matter what. I threw around the idea to make one for Aduah,  the originator of the idea. Still might. I have to still put all of the pieces together and get the paint to come out right on the jacket. 

I doubt anyone will want to pay THAT much for memorabilia from an old series.

#glow in the dark #paint #fabric paint #artists on tumblr #tulip paint #jaquards paint #speedball paint #ben 10 #ben 10 hoodie #screen paint #Phosphorescent #Flourescent #black light #uv light #rave party paint #Glonation #triple glow powder #Bright time glow paint #artist problems

[truck-vore]

Through Pain you find Passion Part One

The feeling of fire on his fur was the first sign that something had gone amiss. The painful burning along the right side of his body, tinged with the smell of burning fur is what slowly brought him back to consciousness.  His eyelids slowly fluttered open, a groan escaping from his muzzle. He softly coughed again, paw slowly rising up to his face, feeling along the rim of the now shattered and half melted glasses that clung to the top of his muzzle. Another cough escaped from his sore lips as he slowly rolled onto his left side, a groan coming from them as he hissed, the sudden bright lights that assaulted his vision hurting. Flames licked at the building in front of him. His vision blurred on the debris that surrounded him, pockets of wood and twisted metal surrounding him as the crackle of the growing fire grew louder.    His tattered uniform offered no protection on the growing heat and cold, the mixture of heat from the fire and the nipping cold on his burned and blistered exposed skin.  The dog gingerly removed the glasses off his face, hissing as the pulled on the fur from where they were stuck, sticking them gingerly into a pocket as he continued to watch the growing fire, taking in deep yet shallow breaths. He gave a grunt, gently pushing up on the ground, his tattered clothes flapping softly in the growing breeze as he slowly rose up on two shaky legs, more hissing come from the steadily growing pain. “Mother fucker” the dog hissed softly, his uninjured arm draping over his midsection as he tried to keep taking in lungfuls of air, each breath feeling like pins and needles now. His eyes looked over the dark orange glow of the growing fire, the dark smoke drifting off into the deep dark night sky. Its crackle and pops growing as more was added to the growing hunger, the building groaning and sagging each minute as he continued to stare. A popping noise drew his eyes from the flames, blue eyes drawing over to the buildings beyond his location, drawing to the growing smoke clouds in the city beyond him. More and more fires could be seen growing, screaming and yelling filled the air, gunshots and explosions raging as he took another deep breath. Wide eyes watched the growing chaos before another round of pain and burning sensations took hold, diverting his attention again as he growled. “God damnit” he grunted, wincing at the pain in his lungs, “Like World War Z in this shit hole” he growled as he took his first step. A dull throb was his reward, thankfully not the pain of anything broken; He was thankful for that at least. He continued those few steps, grumbling as he did so as he fought of the sleepy feeling that grew behind his eyes, away from the warmth of the fire and deeper into the cold winter air around him.    He trudged on deeper and deeper through the complex of buildings and parking lots, devoid of life at this time on a Sunday, trying to make his way towards salvation seeing as the buildings beyond the port where currently in a warzone with someone who the dog didn't have any clue, but one he didn't really want to find out. He gave another hiss as his right side throbbed, not liking the cold air on burnt exposed skin, but still he trudged on, deeper and deeper into the port complex.    With a grunt, His tired body slid against a wall, the dog landing with a hiss on his half burned tail, taking a deep breath as he slowly took off his tattered jacket, the burnt article of clothing offering little in the way of protection at this point. He slowly wrapped it around his worse burns over his arm, hissing at the sloshyness of his skin, tightening it as much as he felt safe before softly sighing.  His ears softly swiveled upwards as another explosion, much closer to him went off. His eyes slowly tracked upwards, a column of fire and smoke following a summersalting boiler as it arched through the air, coming down with the crash of metal on metal as it went through the roof of some poor building on the port front.    “Son of a bitch” whispered the dog softly as another explosion rocketed the port, than another, than another as fail safes failed, boilers and over pressurized tanks going up like fireworks on the fourth of july. The building he rested against shook and vibrated every explosion. He decided at that time it was probably best he didn't stay here anymore, even if his weakened body thought otherwise. He slowly rose onto his paws once more, grunting and hissing with the movement of sore muscles and cooked flesh as he staggered against the building.    With a stagger, he grasped the buildings vinyl siding, hissing as his body tried to once again collapse again. He had to push through, find somewhere safe. He staggered forwards more, gripping and grabbing at the wall till he could get a rhythm, pushing gently against it as he began to drag his right leg, the muscles having decided that working wasn't an option at that moment. He continued forward, his breathing more and more haggard as he gasped, a cough coming from his throat as he staggered against a building till the fit was over.    Once he was sure it was over for the time being, he pushed forward again, hissing and growling along the way as his body softly began to shiver. The cold was definitely getting to him, and he needed shelter, hopefully in a place that wasn't a ticking time bomb. His undamaged left paw grabbed at a door handle, thankfully that with a squeal of old hinges it opened. Lights flickered on, the obnoxious hum of fluorescent lights coming on, illuminating an empty garage. With a shiver, he shut the door behind him, letting it softly latch as he trudged deeper into the garage, growling as he took his broken hurt body in search of the offices here.    He was thankfully it didn't take him long to find that, even with him being as blind as he was at the moment. His hand grabbed at the first aid kit on the wall, flipping its lid down as he rummaged through it, hissing as another wave of hot burning pain blazed up and down his right side. No gauzes, but at least he had some ointments and hydrogen peroxide here to use.He didn't bother measuring what he needed, dumping the liquid over the visible burns along his sides and legs. That earned a particularly loud howl of pain from him, the skin bubbling and fizzing from the contact, his teeth gritting through the horridious pain that joined in his agony.    He repeated the step  on his arm, dumping the liquid down under the jacket he had turned into a bandage. That proved to be the most painful, he could feel the skin moving under it as it tried to slosh of his arm. It proved too much, the howling pain, he didn't remember much. Gripping the table, the dots in his eyes, than nothing.    The feeling of flesh sloshing and the pain it brought snapped the dog back as he rose with a gasp, groaning at the pain his potential fuck up had brought. He could only weakly tie the knot further to stop it from getting any worse as he pushed the first aid supplies of the table, letting them scatter and roll along the floor as he leaned back and gave a weak sigh.    “Well fuck me upwards ah guess” he mumbered softly to himself, his blue eyes trailing upwards to the clock that slowly ticked above him. Tick tock it went, the hands barely moving as he stared, letting the buzz of the lights and the ticking of the clock wash over him as he grunted. His ears swiveled as he heard a new noise come into play, the angry cry of voices… clearly unhappy voices if he could hear correctly.    “Mah luck” he grunted as he slowly got up to try and investigate, the jerkiness of his movements not helping as he had to physically drag a leg that had decided that working at all was not in the books now. He cursed softly as his foot bumped up against something, the object rolling slowly away from him as his eyes darted downwards.    A pipe. Could be useful.    With effort that made him feel 40 years older, his paw managed to wrap around the older looking piper, happy in the knowledge is wasn't hefty; he at least could defend himself now, even if it was gonna be a poor attempt at that. He continued his trek towards the voices, to the wall where it was coming from behind. He turned and leaned against the wall,  a bad idea in hindsight as his weak leg immediately gave out, the dog whimpering as he painfully slid against it, but at least he could hear the voices clearly. “I dont care what you say, You can take your asses and get the hell off my docks” growled a voice, female if the dog could tell, his ears standing up the best they could from the pain. “And I’m telling you again, We need to make sure this port is at least secure. We don’t need any-” sounded another voice, scruff and clearly male, and clearly someone who would not like knowing the dog was here. “Even if god himself came down wanting this dock, I would tell him to get the fuck out of here as well. This is my dock, my rules. The city is in chaos and yet here you are, bullshiting me and my friend with your garbage talk. How about you get your ass back into the fight, and leave me and my associate alone. I’m sure such a large ass like you wouldnt have any issues with any armed forces in the city, now would you?” the female sound, a loud huff coming from her.    “Fine than, have it your way. But if we find out trouble is brewing here, you won’t be able to stop us from clearing and securing every building in this port” growled the male. The dogs ears perked up at the sound of engines revving and pulling away; weird, he hadn’t even heard them get into their vehicles.    “God damn lard asses” said the females, huffing as the engines died off. It was at that moment, that all the pain and misery the dog had faced over the night decided to come into full rebound. He gave a soft groan as his arm and sides really decided to enter searing pain territory,  as the throbbing grew much much worse. Pain he didn't even know he ad flared up, his face feeling like he had dunked it in a pot of boiling water that just grew hotter and hotter.     He whimpered as he fell onto his side, stupidly it seemed like later on, as  the burning of his body came into contact with the concrete flooring under him. The cool concrete could do nothing to help him there as he continued to lay there holding onto the pipe. He needed help, he could feel it, his body was burning up, and he wasn't gonna just walk this off.     With what few ounces of strength he had left in his bones, he banged the pipe off the metal wall. CLANG, again he struck, CLANG, cycle after cycle of hitting the walls. He hoped the voice could hear them, if not, this musty garage was going to be his tomb.    “Hello? Is anyone in their?” called out the female's voice, now closer to the building, and to the clanging. The dog could feel his mouth drying, his throat felt like a hot oven, his breathing becoming more labored over time as he just really wanted to sleep it felt like.    “Help me, please” he said, barely at normal speaking volume as he felt his eyes growing heavier with each passing second. The sound of a garage door squeaking opening sounded through the garage, his labor breathing the only sound the door was hearing as the sound of a vehicle pulling ahead could be heard. An older looking SUburban, white and blue, Port Security etched along the side gingerly rolled inside, the dog not getting a good look at the driver as it ventured ahead of him.    “Help me…. Please.. Help me” he said, his voice now basically a whisper as the edges of his vision became more and more black, the color draining from his vision. The vehicle stopped, gingerly turning towards him. His saw the flash of yellow wash over him, blinding him as he managed to get out one final word. “Help” he whispered as his brain finally couldn't take the pain, his eyes shutting down from overload, not being able to take the flash of one last bit of color.    At least if he died, he had been found he thought before his brain joined his eyes, snapping him fully in darkness.                

#Living machine #living_machines #living machines #living_machine #furry #violence #my universe bitch

[thetrashywritingwitch]

hey i'm back but with a hurt/comfort but of a comfort request?, i would like more of that s/o who lose an arm at a fight with poly kirishima x bakugou, like the s/o during the rehabilitation and talking with them about going back to the heroics (lets assume that s/o quirk is not hinder by not having a arm) after the rehab is done, so please keep the gender of the s/o. i hope you wouldnt mind doing it again

I really enjoyed writing this first part so I don’t mind doing a part 2! I’m cool with angst as long as there’s proper resolution and/or fluff lol

Link to Part 1

Summary: Bakugo x male! reader x Kirishima come back from a mission to find their partner is now disfigured from a mission

Once Kirishima and Bakugo arrived at the hospital they refused to leave your side despite the doctor and nurses’ protests that they needed to leave to at least change your bandages and administer medicine. 

“We can come back in the morning, it’s been more than twenty-four hours since we slept, and we’re no good if we pass out here…” Kirishima mumbled as he placed a tired-yet-firm hand on Bakugo’s seated shoulder. Both sets of eyes were bloodshot from the emotional toll of seeing their partner now missing an arm and them not being here to protect you; what good were they as heroes if…if they couldn’t even do that much?

“Bullshit, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Bakugo argued from his position in the uncomfortable hospital chair next to your bed. You smiled weakly up at both of them. While you were appreciative more than you could ever put into words for their continued presence here, you knew they must be exhausted and starving. 

“Katsuki, Eijiro, it’s fine. I’m not going anywhere. Go rest and I can see you tomorrow.” 

Bakugo furrowed his brows but it held no real anger. He wanted to argue, wanted to bicker about leaving you alone in this cold, shitty place with tacky curtains and floors that smelled too heavily of bleach. But both you and Eijiro’s words rang true, and he was by far the the grumpiest out of the three of you if he didn’t get enough sleep; the thoughts buzzed like an annoying fly in the back of his mind before he huffed through his nose. 

“Fine. As soon as this shithole hospital opens in the morning we’re coming back here, ya hear me?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I hear ya.” 

After thoughtful goodbyes and lingering words the two of them let the heavy door of the recovery room close behind them and you were left alone with only your thoughts and the near-silent hum of fluorescent lights overhead. 

It was here you cracked and wept, out of the watchful red eyes of the men you loved. “What am I going to do now…?”

As the weeks passed Kirishima and Bakugo remained at your side when you started physical therapy. Without the weight of your non-dominant arm you were now off-balance and wobbly when you walked. The doctors said you’d be able to get a prosthetic within the year, but you needed to adjust to a normalized routine with only one arm before thinking about replacing it in the short term. 

Going back home with Katsuki and Eijiro, as wonderful as it was, reminded you of your new limitations. You used to be just as physically strong as they were, but time in the hospital, exhaustion, and stress made you feel weak. 

“Ah?! The hell’re you talkin’ about? You’re not weak,” Bakugo yelled over his shoulder while he made breakfast for all three of you; he was the best cook by far. 

Kirishima grabbed your hand - the only one you had left - and gave you that bright smile you loved so dearly. “You’ll be back to hero work in no time! Your quirk isn’t hindered by what happened. Just need a bit more time is all. The doctors say your rehabilitation is going really well.”

Bakugo scoffed. “Of course it is, he wouldn’t let some shit like this slow him down,” he said while grabbing some plates from the cabinet. It was all so very domestic and familiar, a start contrast to the high-danger lifestyles you all led outside for the world to see. 

Despite their encouraging words you wondered if you really could adapt back into Pro Hero life with only one arm. Sure, other heroes dealt with disabilities and overcame obstacles - that was just standard practice for hero work. Injuries came with the territory. Didn’t make dealing with it any easier, though. At least you had a solid support system to help you through it, but the idea of falling behind your boyfriends ate at you when the lights were turned off and you lay sandwiched between them in the bed you shared. 

It would be a long road ahead, but with their help maybe you’d get through it. 

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader x kirishima #bnha poly ship #kirishima x reader x bakugo #bakugo katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha writing #bnha imagines #mha writing #mha imagines

[semem-dar]

Hey guys, so i’m not sure how to format this, but i need somewhere to put this where i can get some help.

So, if you know me irl, or you read any of my more serious tags, you probably know that I’m disabled. I’ve been professionally diagnosed with a long list of things, no idea what i have and what was a misdiagnosis, no way to tell because symptoms between them overlap so heavily it could be either, or, or both. Who knows. The total list, as of this year is Autism spectrum disorder, major depression presenting with psychotic symptoms, generalized anxiety disorder, attention deficit disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, gender dysphoria, and two specific phobia: one of heights, and one of needles. All are under some form of medication or theraputic treatment, and have been for years, with only minor progress on anything but the PTSD, I am at least being kept out of crisis-mode and have not attempted suicide for almost a year, so it could always be worse.

The situation is, my family is pushing me to get a job. My mother is pushing the angle that its for my independence and self-esteem, my father is pushing the angle that its my responsibility. I recently turned 21, so i need to either find work, or get on disability and stop asking them for things. Either way, they have made it clear to me that it is unacceptable that i am 21 now and have no work history or source of income. The issues with this come in three flavours: i cannot drive, and i cannot care for myself without regular supervision, and i have little in the way of marketable skills or skillsets. Not to mention the standard mental illness difficulties.

The mental problems come in the standard “autistic with sensory issues” fare. I cant be around bright lights or loud noises, anything brighter than a fluorescent office light is too much, and even with those i often need sunglasses. Loud or sudden noises, anything above say, the level of a car-door shutting is too much and sustained sounds above the level of a printer are intolerable enough that i cannot think around them, freezing up or outright attempting to curl in and cover my ears/face/front and getting nothing done. Being allowed to wear noise-cancelling headphones helps, but muffles conversation to a point i cant understand others. Being around people for more than 4 hours a day, 5 if i push it and am willing to be irritable and upset for the rest of the day is my limit. I have difficulty understanding speech over digital media if i cant watch the lips of whoever is speaking, or be provided with subtitles or a transcript. Telephone-based jobs are right out thanks to this particular issue. I have difficulty holding attention, and cant process complex commands well, or deal with things that aren’t sequenced. I don’t deal well with other peoples emotions, and barely cope with my own. I cannot think of any job that would tolerate a worker like this in your standard retail/restaurant/gas-station entry-level, or anywhere that takes workers without a resume, or anything to put on one did they have one.

Driving, which requires many tasks (keeping track of your hands, both of your feet, the speed, the road lines, other cars, road signs, stoplights, the mirrors, the gas, etc), is impossible for me without risking my life or another drivers. I live rurally, and with no public transport to speak of in my area, I have to rely on my parents to get me places. Their schedules are rotating, and at odd hours of the day, and i have to budget for two hours around their schedules to get me to and from college. With the schedule i have now, and their schedules to work around, i cannot find any work during the week, leaving the few days of the weekend being necessary to find work on. But even this is limited, as I cant go far from home, and I still have to work around my parents rotating schedules since they frequently work weekends.

The usual recommendation at this point is to move somewhere with transportation, but here’s the real kicker. I cannot care for myself on my own. I cannot, on my own power, remember to eat, drink, bathe, or sleep properly. I cannot get my medications in without reminders and double-checks. I have difficulty with any amount of flexibility in a schedule, as i get lost when i cannot check either of my watches and know where i should be and what i should be doing, and will instead simply scroll through blogs or edit code or mod games for hours on end, doing nothing productive or useful. I cannot enforce a schedule myself, and any attempts at reminders through technology or mundane means have repeatedly failed. Ive utilized calendars, day planners, sticky notes, alarm clocks, watches, cellphone reminders, other people calling me to check if ive done something, and any other number of methods. Without another living being hounding after me to get something done, it slips my mind.

At this point, i’m  usually asked, in disbelief, how someone can forget to eat. It’s simple, i do not feel hunger until i am in physical pain from it, and often only eat one meal a day as a result of packing a meal and just, grabbing something out of the bag as i see other people eating. Often, this gets to a point where i forget to eat so long that i wind up in pain. This, as most people know, disinclines one from eating. You hurt, you’re tired, and you feel nauseous, you likely do not want to eat anything thanks to this, and simply want to go to bed. I have been hospitalized before for winding up in such a condition that i couldn’t stand thanks to this odd spiral of not eating. The same goes for drinking. I am lucky if i get more than 10 ounces of fluids in in a day separate from any snacks i might have shoved in a bag or pocket or other carry-able container. It is a wonder I am not sicker than i am regularly.

regardless, the point is made, i have extreme difficulty with remembering and motivating myself to preform basic daily activities, and will often do without to the point i sicken myself if left to my own devices. I assume it is like living with a large, depressed, child. I assume it is unpleasant, irritating, and difficult living with someone with these issues, and can think of no one who would willingly take care of someone they are living with to this degree short of a spouse or the parents of the person. Seeing as i am not exactly a catch for marriage given my life difficulties, lack of income, and lack of looks, and cannot live on my own, im rather stuck in a poor, rural area, with few job opportunities and  even fewer that wouldnt essentially be working in hell for someone like me.

Im certain, by this point, if youre still reading, you understand why im having difficulty finding a job i would want to put myself in, or even be able to tolerate. All of the career options ive considered, that i think i might be happy in, require a degree (which requires money we dont have, and years of student loans, and a job in the interim while you earn the degree), or are too far away, or require a cost upfront (such as starting a home business, or taking up a trade where you have to buy your own materials [any type of craft work]), or simply have skillsets that i can only do part of and would be incompetent to outright incapable of the rest of the skillset.

the longer I think about this, the more depressed and frozen i become, and the less and less it feels like i have any options. I’m at a point in my life where i have been unhappy and stressed and frequently outright suicidal too damn often, and i refuse to even potentially put myself in a place where i risk becoming that again. I dont know how to get past that and force myself to take a standard job. I do not know if i have any other options, with my lack of skills and mostly useless talents. I do not know how to run a buisiness, or have to cost for materials and real trainign needed to learn a craft, or the ability to run off my wn schedule that working from home would require.

i feel like i have no options. I do not want to continue this. I do not want to have no options. I do not want to be here. i do not know how to make this stop. i do not know how i can be 21 and be incompetent enough that i cannot find any sort of work i would be suited for. i do not understand how someone could end up with no motivation or skills or any amount of ability to make money. I do not understand. I do not know how to fix this. Threapy is not helping, medication is not helping, support (what little i can get of it) is not helping, i do not know how to become competent. i do not know how to become a person. i do not know how to get money at a price i am willing to pay or even can pay. I do not understand.

#allen speaks