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shapard · 24 days

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Thorned 🥀

Human!Lucifer x fem!reader

Zombie Apocalypse Au

Writing the first words of a story really is a pain in the ass sometimes.

mention of SA and gore (English is not my first Language so errors ahead!)

And here I am to feed y'all another Lucifer x reader!!

In the Closet

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

It should’ve been a normal school day in your boring life. You are a silent nerd student in college just trying to survive with all the college bills.

Your parents aren't very supportive nor did they care about you. So, you moved out of your parents house trying to make something out of yourself.

And let's just say your mother wasn't pleased with the news and declined all your calls.

Not even your father bothers to get in contact with you. When you do get lucky he just shrugs you off and says he is busy.

Clearly a complete lie.

Your head laid on the desk not caring what the Professor is saying right now.

Your life is pretty boring. No romance, no drama and no friends. Not that you mind. You're here for a good education rather than a tragic love story.

Your mind was drifting somewhere else and thinking about the rent you must pay. It was a struggle you wished you don’t have to face.

Beside college you worked in two other part time jobs which drained you completely out. No private time or going out.

High school was the only time where you went out partying and met your ex-boyfriend. He was toxic and very self-centered.

A loud scream caught your attention. Your eyes travelled down towards the tumult that started outside.

The Pick me girl from the upper class was screaming and pressing her hand tight on her mouth. Your eyebrows raised in question, even though she is the pick me girl she never reacted this terrified?

There was screaming, gasping and sound of metal meating flesh.

Interested you watched the scenery as the girl got jumped by a guy. Shocked you saw how that guy, or rather that thing, ate her face bit by bit. Your heart felt like sliding down to your stomach, you wanted to puke.

Her new boyfriend swung a baseball bat onto the monster. The bloody tone that played when blood started to burst out was disgusting.

It made you sick to the stomach.

This is different than any movie or series you watched. This is real. No actor playing a role and no CGI.

Soon enough alarm sirens rang through the town and in the college. You tried to keep a cool outside but the panic inside you was immense. The whole classroom was screaming and some even had panic attacks.

This type of reaction wasn’t helping at all.

In your whole life of existence, you’ve never imagined that this could be really happening.

A Zombie Apocalypse.

You’ve seen it in movies and Series but never have you imagined that it really would happen.

The Professor closed the door and told you all to wait till the police comes and handle the little situation. But help never came.

You pulled out your half-charged phone hoping that the news would report that the government can handle this. All you saw was that the Police departments were under attack, and almost no one survived.

The whole city was on lockdown. And you were hiding in your classroom with your classmates.

The professor never came back. He probably died in the chaos at the own hands from his students who are just trying to protect themselves. or by Zombies.

Now the classroom seems like a save place but for days, weeks maybe even years (when you’re still alive) you knew that escaping the college is the safest idea.

Searching in the classroom for any weapon that could help you found a dissecting knife. You took it fast into your position before anyone can take it from you.

The classroom was quiet, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm.

You must find a better weapon than the small dissecting knife that’s used for surgeries or inspections on dead animals.

Most likely you wouldn’t find a weapon here in the classroom.

Your eyes shifted towards the door that has been locked, in hope none of those creatures would come here. It was a fake feeling of safety.

Everyone knows what a zombie is. But these are different. The way they move, the way they ate and who knows how they are created? Maybe a bite isn’t the only thing that transforms someone into a zombie.

A loud crashing sound made you snap out of your thoughts, and you looked at one of your classmates attacking one of your ex-friends.

Everyone watched in horror and didn’t knew what to do for themselves. The screams pierced your ear and the other didn't move an inch.

Without wasting time, you ran to the locked door and jumped with full force in the hard wood door. You have to escape and watching a slaughter isn’t the way how you’re going to die.

The pain from the harsh compact against the door didn’t stop you. You will not give up and most likely will not die in here.

Your classmates were watching how you were trying to open an escape but didn’t try to help you.

They were afraid that if they move that the zombie attack.

Your friend laid there in full display; half of the face is eaten away by the monstress being.

Your bone cracked slightly, you hissed in pain but continued. The adrenaline was pushing you to things you never thought you'd do. The pain only fueled more Adrenaline into your system.

Your heart raced a mile per minute. Your body heated up and you swung your body every time harsher against the wood surface.

Your skin, flesh and bone begged for a break, but you pushed your body against your limits. The door whined in protest as you lunged your body another time against it.

The door burst open, and the blood covered college hall came in your view.

You stumbled forward when your other classmates ran against you, the others almost walked all over you.

Your hands covered your body hoping it'll protect you from getting stepped over.

Assholes.

You looked up from the floor, your breath hitched as you looked at your dead Professor. In the middle of the floor there laid your professor in a pool of blood.

Karma hit the guy that rammed against you in full force. Your professor raised and lunged at the defenseless boy.

His screams were unbearable to hear. The anxiety in your body only grows every second.

You wanted it all to stop.

You sat in the middle of the chaos, your skirt you chose to wear today was soaked completely with blood.

You watched helplessly how your class clown got eaten in the most disgusting way.

The zombie lunged towards his body as if he searched something, something that he misses. But what could that be?

The zombie clawed with his short nails into the skin ripping the e guys fully open. Your body trembled under the disgusting sight.

As the professor seemed to not find what he was looking for, his body shifted to your direction.

His arms stretched out wanting to grab you, and a sound escaped him, a terrifying one.

Your body didn’t move as panic started to settle in, you’re the next to die. Tears started to burn their way in your eyes.

You are terrified.

His other arm was ripped off and he was still bleeding. But the zombie professor couldn't care less. A lifeless body who was searching for something desperate.

A bloody sight you wanted to look away from but couldn’t.

A hand clasped around yours and pulled you up on your feet. You were being dragged across the college, you stumbled a couple of times but never fell.

Your gaze never left your professor though as you ran through the red painted halls. As he wasn’t in your sight anymore you looked at your savior just to see your ex-boyfriend.

Striker.

“Are you okay sweetie?” His deep voice was irritating for you and brought flashbacks from your relationship.

He tried in these couple days to get back to you even though he cheated on you.

You forgot something in his house and just wanted to get it back. It was a short visit so you didn't tell him that you're going to pay a visit.

That’s when you saw Striker pounding into one of your friends Nova.

The betrayal was hurtful, you trusted her with all your heart and that stung more than some guy. Your heart ached from the loss of your boyfriend and your friend.

Striker only said the usual line: This is not what it looks like. Seriously these men need to have better excuses than this.

You pulled your hands out of his. “Fucking asshole, keep your disgusting question to yourself.” Striker rolled his eyes and tried to take your hand again, but you dodged his attempt.

“You got quite rude stallion. Remember when you used to get all cuddled up with me and begged me to dick you down.” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

A cold shiver went down your spine at his pervert comment. “You’re disgusting.” Striker hummed at your respond and looked you up and down.

“Only for you baby.” He purred and stroked your cheek. You slapped his hand out of your face and walked towards the exit of the college.

He didn't change a bit.

You’d rather find a way to survive than staying any longer with your ex. Ignoring striker is the best option right now.

As you walked outside of the gates from the college grounds that was covered in corpses just to be met with way more outside. The sun was burning down on you making you sweat in anxious and the sudden heat.

A shiny object met your eye, it was a small butterfly knife. You sprinted towards it and danced in victory.

fuck yes! “Why are you dancing?” You cursed under your breath, “I thought you were already dead.” Striker chuckled and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You’re so mean baby~” He whispered in your ear. You wanted to gag at the nickname.

Since when was he behind you anyways?

“I know a place where we can stay.” Finally, something helpful from striker. “Yeah? Where?” Your positive voice brought a grin up to striker’s face. “Just follow me hottie.” His grin only raises a suspicion, but nonetheless it was safer with him than with these monsters.

As you followed behind striker the anxiety in you only grew and your suspicion was high. You two were now in the middle of nowhere in some kind of forest.

A large one at that.

Your pace started to slow down a bit and you regret your past decision to follow your ex-boyfriend in some lonely woods.

It’s not uncommon that exes kill their ex-partners. And in a zombie apocalypse no one would disagree with being a cannibal if it means to survive.

Humans were always self-centered. Even if some are generous. In the matter of living or dying every human is on their own and always just see themselves. Even you would hesitate when it comes to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

Striker stopped and you walked right into his back, and you snapped out of your deep thoughts.

You Apologized and asked striker, why he stopped so sudden. “You play all brave and mighty but here you are quivering in fear.” You didn’t even realize that you started to shake in fear.

Striker spun around and pulled out a rather beautiful knife, “Now listen little bitch. Either you’re going to do what I say, or we can do it in the more fun way.” His tongue ran across the silver, and he laughed in pleasure.

You knew this was a bad idea. “What do you want striker?”

Stand tall, stand tall Y/n.

“I want you stallion.” His hand went out to grab your hair throwing you onto the grass ground. Confused you looked around and saw the butterfly knife laying peacefully in the green. It must’ve fallen out of your hand as Striker forced you to the ground.

“You really thought you could break up with ME?!” His hand collides with your shoulder, and he pressed down hard.

You bit on your tongue to stop the groan of pain. The damage of the door breaking was still fresh and introduced itself.

“Oh, babe you messed with the wrong one.” His knife ran across your cheek drawing red. His tongue ran across the new wound.

Your hand searched for the weapon but it was too far away from you.

“Let me go Striker” It was like you’re talking to a wall; he pushes himself down on you. His erected member was pressed onto your thigh, and it was disgusting.

You really hoped that his dick wouldn’t be anywhere near you.You wanted to puke into his face right now.

“You’re so hot stallion. So pretty and perfect for me.” You spat in strikers face. Striker growled in anger, but you don’t regret it even a bit. And it only angered Striker even more.

“Fucking cunt!” He shouted out loud and you just smirked bitter. But when Striker started to smile you frown. What has he planned? His hand travelled down onto his belt, and you heard it buckle.

Oh no.

He laughed at you terrified face. Now he hit your nerve. Striker was about to pull his trouser down but got interrupted.

“That’s not how you treat a Lady, y’know.” Striker stopped as he heard another voice that wasn’t yours and you sigh in relief.

Striker closed his belt back and let you go. Your feet pushed you away to the next tree and your eyes travelled to Striker towards your savior.

He had a large smirk onto his pearl white face, he had a weird sense of fashion. A white cylinder with a small snake on it was on his head. He was kind of short for a Man.

His eyes were brownish but a scarlet red shine through them, it fits perfect on him. Beautiful Man, beautiful eyes. You could watch hours in those eyes, it was like they were telling their own story. How they flicker and shimmer when the sun hits the iris was so beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Striker hissed, a reminder that he was still very near you. “Lucifer, not so a pleasure to meet you.” His smirk widens as Striker tried to attack him.

Yep, tried.

Lucifer dodged him perfectly and kicked with his heel right in the back from Striker. Striker hissed in pain and rolled on the floor. “You better leave and never come back to her, or you’ll regret it.” Lucifer voice was filled with Venom as he looked down at Striker.

His eyes shrunk in a snake like eye, scary but sexy at the same time. With a whimper Striker ran far away from Lucifer.

Fucking pussy.

Lucifer sighs and turned around to you. His hand stretched out for you to take it and you gladly accept. “Thank you for saving me.” Your thanking warmed his heart, “No Problem, it was the least I could do.”

You felt save around the new stranger. Maybe it was again the wrong decision to just trust a random handsome guy but how can you not.

“Lucifer, right?” Lucifer nodded with his head. “The one and only, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lucifer bowed his hat firmly in his hands and you giggle at his antics. “And who are you darling?” He readjusted his hat and smiled as you Introduce yourself.

“I think we both could use some help and company in this mess.” Lucifers voice was almost like a warm sun breeze. Complete contrast than strikers. “It all happened out of nothing. First the zombies and then this.” You didn’t want to cry but at that moment you felt weak.

Your body betrayed you and you just cried in front of your new friend you could say.

_____

After a while you two found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a lost place, and no one lives in it. You and Lucifer planned to stay in the cabin for a while.

Life in the cabin was peaceful. Lucifer was the greatest room mate you could’ve Imagined. He was supportive and helped around the household. A man that women can only dream about.

Today Lucifer was out looking for any food he could find meanwhile you built up a fence.

When Lucifer came back you couldn’t help yourself better than to watch.

His shirt was draped over his shoulder and his god given abs and waist were showing. You gulped hard as you watch how the sweat pearls pearled down from his chest.

His body was more than just perfection, you almost felt jealous because of that waist of his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winked at you, and you only rolled your eyes which earns you a chuckle.

“You’re so mean kitty.” You huffed and gave him a side eye, “I’d stop if you wouldn’t be so annoying.” Your hand stretched out to get another nail. You hissed as the nail pierced through your fingertips. Lucifer laughed at your clumsiness. “This is already the fifth time kitty cat. Or should I say sleepy beauty.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your heart skipped a beat at his newfound nickname for you.

“Let’s get you patched up.”

A/n: FINALLY I CAN SHARE THIS. So, First thoughts?

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei

If you want to be added please comment on the post I linked below under Taglist.

Taglist

#shapard #hazbin hotel #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #zombie apocalypse #zombie au #naughty lucifer #pervy Lucifer

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chaotic-archaeologist · 3 months

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hi internet bro, You posted Duolingo Yiddish the other day. Are you taking it as a heritage language ? Did you hear it growing up? How do you feel about studying it (in the Duo version of study)

I ask because I am curious about learning the language of my ancestors, but don't have a clear place to use it- whereas my workplace is multilingual and it would be more practical to learn the trade languages I hear every day.

but I still want to help revitalize indigenous languages and culture.

Hey there, thanks for asking!

I'm learning Yiddish because it's the language of my ancestors who fled Russian and Lithuania in the wake of pogroms at the beginning of the 20th century. When they reached American there was a great deal of pressure to assimilate.

One of my great great grandfathers was very proud of his ability to speak English without an accent, something that he associated with his success in starting a business which would later give him the ability to send my grandfather to college, making him the first person to do so. On the 1920 census, that great great grandfather's native language is listed as Jewish, which was sometimes how Yiddish was referred to.

My grandmother grew up in a house with Yiddish speaking parents. They were orthodox, but her father didn't wear a kippah outside of the house because of the pressure to assimilate. Her parents only spoke Yiddish when they didn't want their children to understand what they were saying. As a result, my grandmother never learned.

So I'm learning Yiddish for the same reason I wear a kippah, because my not-so-distant ancestors didn't feel like they could. Because it makes me feel connected to them, who and what they left behind, and the generations of Jews who have kept Yiddish alive both in Europe and diaspora communities. Certainly, it's less "practical" than learning Spanish or Chinese or Arabic or any number of other languages that are more commonly spoken.

But if we only learned languages because they're practical, what happens to the languages that don't make the cut? What happens to the languages that have been deliberately suppressed by colonialism and genocide and assimilation? There are many different reasons to learn a language; practicality is only one of them.

I'll be honest: I'm conflicted about the Duo version of Yiddish. Here's a really good article that explains the debate over the dialect of Yiddish that Duolingo chose to use for their course. The TL;DR is that Duolingo teaches Hasidic Yiddish, a popular dialect but not a universal one. Different dialects result from different communities, and there are political implications for choosing one over the others.

But Duolingo is free, and it's easy for me to spend ten minutes in the evening practicing a few words. It's not the best language learning platform by any means, but it has the language I wanted to learn and it meets my (admittedly simple) needs. After a year or so (and I'm maybe 50% of the way through the course) I find myself able to read simple texts and understand snatches of spoken Yiddish.

I'm also a member of the Yiddish Book Center, which I would totally recommend. They have lots of great resources for learning Yiddish and for interacting with Yiddish culture via literature, oral history, music, art, etc. Most of their programming is in English, and is easily accessible. There are other organizations out there doing great work to support and revitalize Yiddish, this is just the one I'm most familiar with.

(mazel) מאַזל

-Reid

#he speaks #yiddish #duolingo

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fanficsthatmakemybraingobrr · 4 months

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A Night In Cairo

Chapter 4

Indiana Jones x Gender-Neutral Reader

You’re a Intern at Marshall College in Bedford Connecticut and you work with Dr.Jones, but he sucks at his job and is never there and is always behind with work making you get the short end of the stick. Then he drags you on a trip to Cairo with him.

I actually liked how this chapter turned out! i don't think it's half bad. but i am still very open to criticism! anyways i hope you enjoy! :}

link to: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3

Link to AO3

Regret. That is all you have right now is pure regret. You wish you slept on that damn bed. You should have made him sleep with that sad pile of comforters. You also regret using comforters, you should’ve taken the sheets you woke up in the middle night drenched in your own sweat and what feels like a broken back.

That’s also the reason you’re up so early you couldn’t fall back asleep. If you had to guess it’s probably 7:00 in the morning? Indy was passed out and sprawled across the bed, laying on his stomach hugging a pillow smooshing it against his face. He's pretty knocked out and is sleeping soundly, his face is gently illuminated by the sunlight coming through the window.

You just stare at him.

His eyebrows slightly furrowed.

You seem to be doing that a lot lately. Just starring.

His hair all tousled.

Why are you looking?

The way the light played on his face perfectly framing his facial features was intriguing.

Maybe because you've never been able to get a good look at him? I mean the time you spend around him you're always grading things or helping him plan out his syllabus day by day because he didn't do it before the semester started?

You never noticed the scar on his chin- damn this man has long ass eyelashes!

Stop it. You're being creepy, you're standing over his body like he's a cadaver or something. You turn your gaze to the window hearing the sound of busy streets, the calls of vendors and talk of passersby. An idea pops into your head. This Is your first time out of the US, why not explore the city for a bit? You tiptoe across the hotel room grabbing your things and making your way to the door.

The minute you step outside it's hotter than hell, you almost want to go back inside but this is a once in a lifetime chance for you right now. Hm? Where do you start, which direction do you walk in? You shrug your shoulders and think whatever and you just start walking. Your Arabic is pretty rusty so when you read signs you're mainly going off context clues. You start to pass by little shops and vendors admiring what they had to sell. The city really starts to feel alive as you take in the small details around you. In the background you hear people chattering, having small conversations About how busy they are today or their plans, the playful screaming of children, the sound of vendors selling their goods. You see how different areas of the city are all unique with different stores and goods available. At one point you see a small cat wandering around. You stop and pet it. You can feel it purr as you glide your hand down its back and off its tail.

As you were enjoying your enrichment time petting the stray cat you didn't notice Indiana come up behind you. He looked over your shoulder watching with a small smile patiently for you to notice him.

Wow.

It’s been like five minutes. Indiana is taken back for a moment. He finds it almost… What's the word, Endearing? that you're putting so much effort into petting this damn cat. He almost feels jealous.

“You know that thing probably has fleas?” He let slip out in a teasing and joking tone. He didn't mean to say it truly…okay maybe he did. You were a little startled when he talked, you looked up from the cat at the older man and lightly rolled your eyes and let out a small chuckle.

“Your being mean Jones!” you exclaim. Indiana walks over and kneels down next to you in the cat. He extended his hand out letting the cat sniff him, the cat let out a small meow and it nuzzled its small head into his hand. You smiled as he began to pet the cat. You noticed how gentle he was in the way he treated the animal. The cat seemed to like Indiana as much as it liked you.

“Now you have fleas” you teased back. Indy was caught a little bit by surprise by you making that sly comment but he couldn't help but smile at you.

“Yeah, I probably have some fleas now.” he said while smiling. A faint growl came from your stomach, oh yeah eating. You forgot about that. Indiana laughed as he heard your stomach growl.

“Seems like someone skipped breakfast, come on i know a place that has some great food” You stood up and the cat walked away probably to seek attention from someone else.

“Yeah, I'm very hungry.” you say with a tinge of embarrassment. Indy then smiled and offered his arm to you. You looked at him a little confused. You let out a little ‘hm?’ and then you realized, he wants you to hold on to him. You awkwardly take his arm and he starts leading the way.

“This place gets pretty busy around this time and… ya know…i don't wanna end up losing you in this crowd.” you look at him and smile. He could have just told you to stay close but you let him keep his pride.

Indy led you into a little hole in the wall restaurant that was tucked away. Once you both walked you took a seat at a table for two in the corner of the small but humble restaurant. The decor was simple but comfortable and it had a warm and cozy atmosphere. The walls were painted a warm shade, with decorations hanging from them. The restaurant was busy with locals eating and enjoying their food. You picked up the menu and realized you could only read about half of it. You looked at Indy and he had on his round reading glasses. They made him look mature and intelligent. The round frames complemented his face.

“Uh Indy i can't read the menu that well…” you say as you sheepishly look over your menu. Indy looked up from his own menu at you and smirked at your statement.

“That's alright sweetheart, I'll get us something we’ll both like.”

“Okay..” you nodded.

Sweetheart? You were frozen, you moved your eyes down towards your menu finding it hard to concentrate on it. Did he mean to call you that? Why did he call you that? You could feel your face slightly burn. You found yourself almost wanting him to call you that again.

He did not mean to call you that.

Indiana Jones, a full grown man who has plenty of lovers is failing to suppress his feelings. What's going on? He's never done this before. He doesn't slip up like this (yes he does). Did you notice his slip-up? Indy suppresses these thoughts, glazing his eyes over the menu picking something out for you two to eat. Indy picked something out, called over a waiter and put in the order. There was an awkward silence between the two of you. God this is horrible. Indiana does want to know you better, he never really has sat down and had a genuine conversation with you except once. But that was your first day on campus.

Indiana had just walked out of the faculty lounge with a cup of coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He had just gotten back from Turkey with his father. He was tired, his back hurting, he was behind on work, and did not have much patience. As he turned the corner to his office he noticed someone standing in front of his office door. He sighed as he approached them.

“I know I haven't graded exams but i'll get to them today.” he grumbled as he walked by them and unlocked his office. The person turned their head to the side in confusion.

“Um sir i’m not one of your students..” Indy stopped and turned around.

“What?”

“Sir i'm an Intern, My name is ___! I was told I'll be working with you this semester!” They gave him a smile and extended their hand out to him. Oh yeah, Indiana forgot about that. Oops.

“My bad,” he said, extending his hand to shake theirs. "I'm a bit out of it today I suppose. It's nice to meet you, I'm Indy.” Indiana Jones then sighed, still feeling tired and slightly irritable after his most recent trip abroad. He took a sip of his coffee and rubbed his neck, as he could feel the tension building up in his shoulders. He looked at the intern and forced a smile, trying to mask his tiredness. "Well then, let's get to work."

Okay…maybe not too genuine, but you two are always so busy from that point on he doesn't know that much about you.

“So..” Indy mumbled, breaking the silence. “Did you sleep well last night? I saw that you made that…nest?” You finally looked up from the table and at Indiana. You laughed as he called your bed a ‘nest’.

“Yeah it was fine, just a bit warm.”

“I'm sorry you had to sleep on the floor, i mean i would have but by the time i came out of the shoulder you were already asleep.”

“No it's okay, I really don't mind!” the waiter came back with your food and placed it on the table. You and Indy started eating and enjoying each other's company. It was nice, you told him about your life growing up and how you ended up at Bedford as his intern and he told you stories about the different adventures he’s been on ending on the last trip he took with his father.

“The holy grail?” you looked at him in shock. Indy smiled and let out a small laugh.

“I thought it was just a myth!” you added. Indy looked at you with a slight smirk on his face.

“Yeah, so did I. Even though my fathers obsession with it I never thought the damn thing had a basis in this reality. I always thought of the relic as mythical.” he let out a half hearted sigh and called over a waiter asking for the bill. You pulled out your wallet but Indy interrupted you.

“Hey I've got it.” you shook your head at his comment.

“Come on, you brought me on this trip for free! It’s the least I could do!”

“To be fair this trip is already funded by the college and I'm not paying anything either.” you stayed silent for a moment trying to come up with an excuse to pay.

“Could we at least split the check?” you suggested with a nervous smile. Indy looked up from the bill and stared at you for a moment. Then his lips curled into a playful smile.

“How about this? I pay for this meal and to pay me back and at the banquet tonight you owe me a dance?”

#indiana jones x reader #harrison ford #indiana jones

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jewish-vents · 24 days

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My entire life, I've yearned for the kind of community the Jewish community and Judaism have provided me. I found out I had Jewish ancestry when I was a kid, I looked into it more later and realized my most recent Jewish ancestor (like three-ish generations back) was almost certainly forcibly converted out, and decided to convert to like. Make amends for that I guess and also because I really vibed with the holidays and how we turn up everywhere in history bc we keep doing cool stuff despite consistently shitty circumstances.

But I digress.

I have waited my WHOLE LIFE trying to experience the joy becoming Jewish has shown me, and that gets shit on constantly.

My sister has started making a truly obscene number of Jew jokes. My mom scoffs at all the 'nonsense rules' and has said repeatedly that she thinks choosing a 'restrictive' religion is dumb and I've made a mistake. She even said it's an insult to HER parenting skills that I would seek out religion after she tried to teach me to know better.

My dad is dead but I never ever in a million years would have told him even if he were alive, and my sister thinks it's funny to threaten to 'out' me as Jewish to his relatives even though they're basically KKK-adjacent so she actually enjoys threatening mg safety at this point. (Yay family right?)

My friends have turned everything into an Israel/Palestine discussion lately and I know damn well what they're doing when they start saying truly horrible shit about Israelis and looking at me. They get mad if I try to temper their extremism so I've given up. I barely talk to them anymore and I spend more and more time with other Jews from temple and I don't want to like. Isolate myself from all non-Jews I guess bc I've always felt like that leads to weirdness and perpetuates shit about Jews being unfriendly I guess idk?

Anyway I digress again. My point is I'm really sick of constantly being expected to tolerate it when people think I shouldn't be Jewish.

Other queer people think I'm somehow compromising my queer identity by being Jewish, leftists think I hunt Palestinian children for sport now apparently, right-wingers think I traffic good Christian babies for organ harvesting or some shit idfk, my friends think that if I'm not being more vitriolic in my hatred of Israel than they already are I'm some kind of secret rabid Netanyahu fan, my family think I've been recruited into a cult apparently and the only other people who show me even an ounce of compassion or regard are other Jews and Gd knows there's like ten of us and that number is unlikely to increase.

Just. Fuck. I've put blood, sweat, tears and money into this, I invested more time and emotional commitment into this than I have into going to college or choosing a career, I love it more than anything and have only loved it more the more I learned about it, and all I get when I express this or even just let slip that I am Jewish and chose to be, I get nothing but hatred. I will never understand how a religion that has spent all 5000 years of our existence minding our business and arguing about the same book over and over can possibly have offended this many people with our existence.

Dmn anon, that is a lot you're dealing with right now. I'm so sorry you're surrounded by people who clearly don't respect you. Because yes this is a lack of basic respect, and it is antisemitic. Now I don't know how old you are and how safe you are, but if you can safely do so, set very hard boundaries. Do not tolerate this amount of disrespect towards who you are. It is hard, and many of us have had to go through similar situations, as you can read all over this blog. But I think having to spend your life surrounded by people who make you feel unsafe and disrespected is worse. I know sometimes there are situations in which people cannot safely set these boundaries, I hope it's not your case, but if it is feel free to come here to vent again.

I know you don't want to isolate yourself from goyim. Many Jewish people don't want to. Sadly, when people disrespect us like this, they're the ones isolating us. It's not your fault. Seek people who love and accept you. Sadly, a good chunk of goyim won't - I'm not saying everyone, obviously, but a portion. Having a good Jewish support network seems to be more and more important, whether it's irl or online.

I hope you can soon be in an environment that's safer and more accepting

- 🐺

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #jewish convert #i feel like i need to clarify #while i said that a good portion of goyim are disrespectful and antisemitic #i dont mean every goy is #so if someone is coming in the comments to call me goy-phobic i assure you i do not have the patience to deal with that #i mean what i said #thats not an attack on goyim #its just an observable truth stated by literally every jewish person I've ever spoken to #if you feel offended at being called antisemitic try not to be antisemitic #like im sorry i sound so mad but i am just very tired of seeing my community suffer while everyone else just looks the other way

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fuji-mango · 28 days

Text

"Change will change you." -Nick ⁉️

Nick x Reader BSF (Male)

SYNOPSIS - Nick's been your best friend since you were kids, but for the past month, he's been ignoring you. He won't answer texts, won't return your calls. Life's been hell since he went MIA, so you decide to finally try and start pulling yourself together.

Note: My first story... be nice pls...

Word Count: 2351

WARNINGS: Burnout, Depression

Y/n’s POV

I remember when I thought that scraping my knee or falling off my bike was the most painful thing in the world, but I know now that I was very wrong. What hurts more than anything in the world, is feeling truly alone. Like you’ve been cast out to sea, and all you have is the whispers in the back of your head to stay sane.

All I can manage to do is lie in bed all day, wasting away while the world around me carries on. The sound of rain outside pelting the window only adds to the hollowness that I’m feeling. Everything felt like it was falling apart, I was being ghosted by my closest friend, everyone else moved away to college early, and doing any small thing felt like the most exhausting task in the world. Not to mention that my parents were currently several states away for work.

And as I was contemplating my depressing thoughts, I felt a slight vibration from my phone that was somewhere under my comforter. I sat up and rummaged around my bed in the dark searching for my phone. Eventually I found it and unlocked it immediately, being blinded by the screen as I did so. I scrolled through my notifications and instead of finding a new message from Nick, I found that my health app was reminding me to drink water. I wasn’t going to.

I opened my messages and I immediately saw the words I dreaded seeing beside Nick’s contact. “Read”.

I’ve been left on read again... 63 messages in the past month, and Nick hasn’t replied to any of them. I don’t even know why I feel surprised, I knew what the outcome was even before I sent it.

Nick, do you wanna hangout on Friday? (2:37 Pm 7/23) Read

…

Hey, I haven’t heard from you in awhile, how are you? (3:13 Pm 7/30) Read

…

Nick, I’m worried about you, please msg me. (12:04 Am 8/12) Read

…

Did I do something wrong? (9:13 Am 8/18) Read

…

Can you just tell me why you won’t respond? (8:15 Pm Yesterday) Read

I laughed a bit as I scrolled through our messages again. I knew he was busy with his career, that it was important to him. I just never thought that I would be thrown away for it.

Nick was my best friend. We grew up together, we watched each other go from things like dinosaur phases to graduating highschool. It feels like a part of my life is missing without him, but I can’t let it get me down forever.

I know that it’s raining, but I could go outside. I need some fresh air.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Nick’s POV

It was raining outside when Y/n texted me, it feels like forever since I’ve seen him. Part of me feels guilty for not reaching out, but the other half feels like it would shatter if I saw him again. I walked outside towards the van joining my brothers, trying hard to ignore those lingering thoughts.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n’s POV

I just let myself walk, taking random turns every now and then. The slight drizzle and breeze wasn’t horrible, but still annoying nonetheless. It just feels like everything distant… Like I’m watching everythings happen from an outside perspective. The dozens of cars driving by, people waiting at the bus stop, groups of friends walking around together… The world seems so alive, and yet I was just a bystander to everything that was going on.

It was exhausting. The mental strain, the emptiness that always followed… I was tired of it all. I just wanted to feel normal again, but how could I do that when a part of my life feels like it was ripped apart.

Eventually I ended up at one of my favourite places to hangout, at least I used to. I don’t even know when or how I got here. I thought that I was taking a random route, but maybe I subconsciously brought myself here. Kelly’s Diner, the place where Nick and I used to spend hours just talking to each other, laughing obnoxiously as the hours drifted by, up until they were closing.

I wanted to go inside, to try and find some happiness here again, but some part of me told me it wasn’t worth it. But I ignored that feeling and went inside anyway, being greeted by the pink and green detailed interior. It seemed foreign to me, despite all the times that I’ve been here. I walked up to the counter, sitting on the cushioned bar stools that were still as uncomfortable as I remembered.

One of the workers made their way over to where I was sitting after dealing with a table around the corner. It was Spencer, a guy from school, but I mainly knew him from all the times that I came here with Nick. He always got annoyed whenever we got too loud and bothered everyone else in the diner.

“Haven’t seen you in awhile.” Spencer said, his usual tired face telling me all I needed to know.

“Long shift?” I asked him sarcastically.

“Yeah, works been a bitch lately, how bout you?”

“It’s been going.” I said, stretching my arms over my head. “Can I just get a chocolate ice cream frappe?”

“No fries or anything” Spencer clarified, to which I gave him a quick nod. “Alright, I’ll get that to you in a bit.” and with that he walked into the kitchen, coming out moments later to give food to the table he was at earlier.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Nick’s POV

Hanging out with Matt and Chris was always fun, but it was also a great distraction. I always hated when things were out of my control… hated how I felt insecure when I started to fall apart. Hated how all I could ever do was run away from the problem instead of facing them. And here I am, trying to suppress the sorrows by smiling and laughing with my brothers.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n’s POV

After a couple minutes, Spencer finally made his way over to me, my drink in hand.

“One chocolate ice cream frappe for my favourite customer.” He said, setting down the drink in front of me.

“Thanks” is all I managed to let out.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” and with that, Spencer walked off to start wiping down some tables.

All I did was stare at the frappe for a bit, reminiscing on the past. When Nick and I came here, I’d always ordered the chocolate one, and he’d always get vanilla. It felt strange only seeing one of them on the counter, but I was starting to feel less bothered by it the longer I stared. When I finally did take a sip, a wave of warmth enveloped my body.

It tasted just how I remembered, maybe a bit better actually. And it was at that moment that I knew I was going to be okay. When life realigned for a second to let me catch my breath. I’d kept myself stuck in place, and now I was finally moving on my own again, no external force driving me forward. Just me, and I’m going to have to accept that fact.

The fact that Nick wouldn’t always be there anymore. I mean, I did miss him and all, he was my ride or die… and sometimes it felt like he was just around the corner. And as I thought about these stupid ideas, I heard his laugh. His obnoxiously perfect laugh.

He was here, Nick was actually here. It was the most relieving yet horrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. I set down a ten dollar tip on the counter and got up from my chair, slowly walking towards the source of the sound. My legs felt heavier with every step that got me closer, until I made it to the corner and finally I saw him. And there he was, smiling and laughing with Matt and Chris, a vanilla frappe in hand.

I pulled up my phone and started to text Nick. One last attempt before I walk away from all of this.

I miss you. (6:27 Pm Today) Sent

And I watched as he picked up the phone, and set it down just as fast. Leaving those four letters on my screen once again. “Read”. And in that moment, I didn’t care anymore, how could I care anymore. I was so fucking tired of caring. Tired of spending all my time and energy on this. I stood up from my chair, making a loud squeaking from its legs scratching on the floor. All I could think about was getting out of here as fast as I could.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Nick’s POV

A loud sound from behind me took my attention away from the conversation that me and Chris were having, and I turned to see Y/n. He didn’t look like his usual self though. His hair was messily done, which wasn’t like him at all, and his clothes were slightly wet from the rain outside. He hates the rain.

By the time he was out the door, I found myself getting up abruptly and following after him. I heard Chris and Matt yelling something at me but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Y/n looked like he was in shambles, and it was because of me. Because of how selfish I’ve been.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n’s POV

The rain was a lot worse than it was 20 minutes ago, going from a slight drizzle to a full on shower. I kept walking as fast as I could, trying to calm myself down. The tears on my face were blending in with the downpour. And I could hear Nick following behind me yelling my name.

“Y/N!” Nick yelled over the loud sound of rain, but I ignored it.

My walk sped up into a jog.

“Y/N!” He yelled again, but I still didn’t stop.

My jogging turned into running.

“Y/n just stop for a minute, please.” Nick pleaded, but I was being torn apart. Why now? Why after all this time? Nick didn’t bother to write a single text explaining anything and here he was running after me. He hates running.

I turned my head back to look at Nick but tripped over the uneven sidewalk. I managed to catch myself, scraping both my palms on the wet sidewalk, but it let Nick catch up to me.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, catching his breath and offering me a hand to help me up.

“I’m fine Nick.” I slapped his hand away and got back up, trying to leave once again, but he grabbed onto my wrist before I could. “Nick let me go.” I said, trying to escape his grasp. The tears were falling harder now.

“Y/n…”

“I said let me go Nick!” I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and continuing on my way.

“Just let me explai-”

“Explain what?” I hissed out, stopping for a moment before turning around and finally facing him. “Explain how you fucking abandoned me?” He took a step back. “Explain how you ghosted me for a whole month?” He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, so I kept on going. “Cause I want you to explain it Nick, I want you to fucking explain how you could throw me away like I was a piece of fucking trash.” My voice broke on the last few words, and I felt horrible yelling that at him, but part of me felt justified about it, which made me feel even worse.

“Y/n…” Nick started, struggling to find the right words. “What I did… it wasn’t okay. And I don’t know that you’ll ever forgive me.” He paused for a second to compose himself. I couldn’t tell if he was crying, or if it was the rain. “And it was selfish of me to do that. Selfish of me to just ignore you and not tell you why.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I yelled out, the frustration that I’ve been holding inside lashing out.

“Because I like you.” Nick said, which left me speechless. “I’ve liked you for so long and I know that you’ll never like me back that way, and it was so fucking hard watching you be so happy with other people romantically. It was so hard waiting for myself to fall out of love with you because of how much I care about our friendship… but I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Nick… I…” I didn’t know what to say… didn’t know what to do.

“You don’t have to say anything Y/n, it’s fine.” Nick said, looking down at the ground. He looked as miserable as me.

“Nick…” I took a step forward and hugged him. “I don’t think I could ever like you that way, but you’ve been one of the most important things throughout my life.” I stopped for a second, pulling him out of the hug and looking him face to face. “And if this is what you need to be happy, then it’s okay. I understand.” I took a deep breath in. “But I want you to know this. You’ve been one of the best things in my life, and you always will be.” and with that, turned around and walked away.

It’s taken a lot of time to accept this change, and at first, I really didn’t want to. Sure it still kinda hurt to think about, but as I looked down at my scraped palms, I knew I could get past this too. I looked back at Nick one last time to see Matt and Chris finally reunite with him, and for the first time in a long time, I smiled.

#sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader

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bloodynereid · 3 months

Note

i don’t know if you celebrate christmas but i am OBSESSED with the holiday season!! could you do something with the whole friend group (marie jordan cate andre emma sam luke) and gn reader where they’re decorating for the holidays? just a happy group that isn’t traumatized or suffering and it’s just fluffy and everyone’s alive and well and they’re decorating the house and the tree and cookies, gingerbread houses, just all the happy fluff! thank you and sending all the winter love!! - 🧚🏻

A Gen V Christmas | headcanons

pairings: limoreau, cate x luke, sam x emma

tw: mentions of christmas (it's not religious it's more the significance of the holiday and stuff), slight mentions of trauma?? (very minor), nothing much, christmas fic in january ?!?!, swearing

description: it's christmas eve and a bunch of superpowered college students have the house to themselves.

a/n: so... sry i didn't get to this sooner lol, i love this fic idea and this was sort of rushed but i hope you still enjoy it anon! i have kind of a horrible habit of not checking my requests or just forgetting about them until weeks later so once again sorry.

Christmas was going to be a whole affair that year. Luke and Sam’s parents were going to some fancy retreat in Switzerland so they had let the kids host a little get together. Luke could clearly remember his parents warning him it was for close friends ONLY, they didn’t want to find their house trashed by a bunch of supe college students.

And so Luke and Sam decided to only invite the gang and their respective partners. In total there were seven people bustling around the house on Christmas Eve.

Emma was trying and failing to assemble a gingerbread house while she ordered Sam around to: “GET ME MORE ICING. NO NOT THAT COLOR. SHIT SHIT SHIT.”

Cate was lounging on the couch with her feet on Luke’s lap as she curated the perfect holiday playlist, a mix of classics and some newer stuff that wasn’t absolute shit.

Luke was busy watching a football game but he gave suggestions to Cate every once and a while when he remembered a particularly good Christmas song.

Andre had been left in charge of the cooking, a trait that he had inherited from his mom. As Emma panicked with the gingerbread house Andre tried to hide a smile as he scrolled through TikTok, waiting for the chicken to roast.

Jordan and Marie were busy trying to figure out the best way to stack the Christmas presents, their cups of steaming hot chocolate had cooled significantly by the time they had finished making the perfect pyramid of presents.

Some of them had grown up with better holidays than others but they were all trying to do their part to make this one the best for people like Cate and Marie who barely got to experience any of it after they got their powers.

The rest of Christmas Eve afternoon was spent with a lot more yelling (Emma), wrenching the remote away from Luke (Jordan, they didn’t particularly love watching American football on Christmas Eve) and the smell of a perfect roast wafting through the house (Andre had a gift).

When midnight started to approach, Cate got everyone to hang up their stockings on the strangely large mantelpiece that the Riordan house contained.

Sam got everyone to open up the Santa Tracker with him (it was a tradition).

Since Sam got to do his tradition, Jordan rounded everyone up around the tv to watch ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’.

Emma somehow managed to get the gingerbread house basically structurally sound by the time everyone headed to their respective bedrooms. It was even standing the next morning as everyone gathered around the tree with cups of coffee. That was the real Christmas miracle.

im backkkkk

#gen v #limoreau #limoreau fanfic #jordan li #marie moreau #sam riordan #emma meyer #cate dunlap #andre anderson #cate dunlap fanfic #gen v fanfic #gen v fanfics #sam x emma #maria's random stuff #luke riordan #luke x cate #christmas

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wrenreid · 1 year

Text

Off Limits

contents: angst, grieving, alcohol consumption

Part Twenty

I finally feel a little more normal after the night of wallowing in my sorrows. My emotions are still wonky and yesterday is still on my mind, but at least I feel better.

Spencer texted me when he got up this morning, but I haven’t responded. I’m not entirely in the mood to talk to anyone yet.

Even after (mostly) sleeping through the night, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding back because of me. That I’m the problem. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Guys didn’t want to date me because I’m a virgin. Or if they did it wasn’t because of my personality or who I am; it was because I’m a task, something to do then check off a list. Maybe Spencer thinks I’m not even good enough for the list.

I run a hand through my dark hair, sighing softly. I’m overthinking. I’m always overthinking. I can’t just assume something based off of one or two incidents. Maybe he just truly wants to take things slow because he’s not like the guys I’ve known before. I can’t let my own insecurities and self deprecating mind get in the way of something that could actually be good. I need the optimism I had right as we decided to do whatever this relationship is back.

On my way downstairs, I shoot Spencer a good morning response. Dad is currently tightening his tie and grabbing his brief case, which means he has to go into work. They both do.

There shouldn’t be a case today, but they’ll both be busy for the majority of the day, and Jack is currently having a play date with one of his friends until after noon. Time alone.

I decide to spend my time alone binge watching an old favorite tv show from my high school years and finishing up this week’s assignments. It’s Friday, and I only have two classes today. I get my work done pretty fast then start actually paying attention to the tv screen.

CeCe calls me when I’m a solid six episodes into the show. I press pause and pick up the phone, putting her on speaker. We talk for a bit, but I decide against telling her about what happened with me and Spencer.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, but I don’t think this is something she needs to know. Or maybe it’s something I don’t want anyone to know. How to I put into words that my whatever he is doesn’t want to sleep with me?

A very tired Jack is dropped off around 1pm. He looks exhausted. The kid really knows how to play until he drops.

I tuck him in for a nap then head back downstairs to grab a snack and continue binge watching. The rest of the weekend consists of family time, binge watching tv, and lazily laying around the apartment.

I miss college life. I miss parties and friends. I’m glad to be home with my family, but I miss the freedom. The life I had when I was in New York. When my mom was still alive.

“How’s your weekend been?” Spencer asks when I go over to his house Sunday evening. He’s probably leaving for a case tomorrow morning, so he wanted to see me before he left.

We haven’t texted much since Thursday night when he rejected me. God, I sound pathetic, but it’s still on my mind.

“It’s been alright. Very lazy,” I answer, only half mentally here. My mind isn’t quite in his apartment. It’s not quite anywhere.

“Are you okay?” His hand touches my knee gently as his soft words reach my ears. I almost flinch, just thinking about how it’s weird to be touched by him when he quite clearly isn’t interested in that.

I nod, half assed. “Yeah.”

“Jade.”

I’m finally snapped out of my distant, mopey daze when his hand reaches under my chin and forces me to look at him. My brown eyes meet his.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a soft sigh. “Things have just been weird.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asks, his eyes softening and his hand releasing my face.

I shake my head. Then nod. Then shrug. “It’s just… it’s been weird at home. And being at home. I’m craving for things to be the same, but they never will be again. A part of me still thinks that my mom’s death was just some fucked up dream. That I’ll see her again and she’ll tell me none of it was real. That it was just a nightmare.”

Spencer’s eyes flick down to the floor. I know he hates situations like this. Sad. Awkward. He doesn’t know what to say. I hate putting people in this situation. There isn’t a right thing to say. Nothing is going to repair the hole in my chest. Nothing is going to bring my mom back.

“I’m so sorry, Jade,” he says, his words soft and breathy.

I hate apologies. They just make me feel pitied.

“Don’t be,” I say, attempting to swallow down the lump in my throat.

He nods in understanding. “What can I do to make you feel better in this moment?”

“Be normal,” I say then laugh softly, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, just give me a normal night.”

“So no sacrificial rituals? Well, that defeats my plans,” Spencer jokes.

I shake my head but let out another soft laugh. He may be a dork, but I like it.

Spencer pulls me into him for a quick kiss. I smile up at him faintly.

What I really need right now is a distraction. A distraction from all of the shit weighing me down right now. I need him. Him to touch me. To tell me I’m pretty and make me feel good.

But I can’t ask. Not when he said what he said. He doesn’t want to have sex with me. For whatever reasons he’s holding back, I have to respect his wishes. I owe him that. And perhaps using him as a distraction isn’t a good idea anyway. I’m not sure how good it would make me feel after the matter.

My head finds its place on his shoulder as he turns on the tv. We watch whatever comes on, neither of us wanting to give our attention to a movie that we’d actually have to follow along with.

Spencer orders takeout, and we eat on his couch, talking about whatever in between bites. We don’t touch. Not in the way we have been. It’s not a bad thing really, but it just feels weird.

The next couple weeks go on per-usual. I do school work, miss my best friend, distract myself with any form of media that will clog my brain, and wait for Spencer to get home from cases or work so I can see him.

“I’m beginning to think you’re hiding something from me,” my dad says from his place on the couch. He’s reading. Something he hasn’t done too often in a long time.

I turn around to face him with a laugh. “Why?”

He shrugs, playfully, but not quite joking. “You’ve been leaving a lot. Do you have a secret family I don’t know about?”

“Ha. Ha,” I roll my eyes at his lazy attempt at a joke. “I’m just meeting up with some friends. Since CeCe’s in New York, and I’m not anymore, I’ve had to reconnect with old friends. You should be glad I’m not wallowing around the house.”

I didn’t mean it as a jab at him, but he takes it as one. He has every reason to wallow, even if he tries his best to hide it.

My dad nods, shooting me a faint smile. “Have fun. Be safe.”

I grab my bag and give him a thumbs up. “Will do.”

I hate lying to him. Especially since everything that’s happened. I was never a sneaky kid. I hardly ever disobeyed my parents.

But being honest with my father would cause a lot of drama none of us can handle right now. So he’s not in the know. And I’ll just have to get used to the knots in my stomach that form with every lie.

After walking into Spencer’s apartment, I plop down on his couch, laying my head in his lap.

“Hello to you too,” he laughs softly, looking down at me.

Things have finally gone back to normal between us. Or at least I think they have. We haven’t talked about what happened two weeks ago, and I’m very glad about that. I don’t want the awkwardness again. I like what we have right now.

We don’t take things too far. When we kiss or touch, we stay at a comfortable region for us both. We don’t try to venture out into the grey area.

“Hi,” I grin up at him.

His hands play with my hair absentmindedly, twirling some strands around his fingers. “How was your week?”

“Not too bad. It’s getting closer and closer to graduation. I’m almost officially not an undergrad student anymore.”

“They grow up so fast,” Spencer says playfully.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down into my eyes.

“Do you feel weird lying about this? About us?”

Spencer’s lips press together for a brief moment. “I haven’t really had to lie.”

“Right,” I nod, sitting up. I situate myself to where I’m facing him, my legs crossed in a pretzel.

“Do you?”

“Kind of,” I admit. “I mean, I know I’m an adult and I don’t owe my dad any explanations, but he’s still my dad. He worries, and I think he’s catching on that I’m doing something.”

Even though technically we aren’t doing anything. Not that at least.

Spencer nods, his eyebrows pinching together. “Do you think he knows about us?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t even think that would cross his mind. I just… I don’t know. I want things to be normal. My life has been too unnormal.”

“That’s not a word,” he says with a slight smile.

“Not the point,” I glare.

“Sorry. What would be normal for us to do?” Spencer asks, his head tilting as he looks at me.

I run a hand though my hair with a sigh. I think for a moment. I know what I need right now. “We could go to a totally normal college party?”

I look at him hopefully, but he’s already scowling. “I don’t know about that one, J.”

“C’mon, Spence. I’m 21. A party is the most normal thing I could do right now,” I tell him.

He sighs. He’s been defeated, and he knows it. “Fine. We can go to a party. And we can drink and dance, and whatever else you want to do.”

“Really?” My eyes light up.

“Mhm,” Spencer nods. “Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“We’re not playing darts.”

A laugh takes ahold of me for a second. “Awh did I bruise your ego last time?”

“Lil bit,” he says with a grin, pinching his pointer finger and thumb together.

I roll my eyes and lean into him for a quick kiss. When I pull away, he’s still smiling. It makes me weak in a way I can’t explain.

“I’m sure you already know someone who’s throwing a party,” he says.

“It’s Saturday night. Of course I do.”

I hop up to my feet and slip my high tops back on. My outfit is already party acceptable: ripped baggy jeans, a cute top, and converse.

Spencer’s wearing too casual clothes (which I never expected to see him in in a million years), so I drag him into his room by his wrist.

I have him sit at the edge of the bed while I find clothes for him to wear.

“I’m not a Ken doll, Jade,” he says but I turn around and press my finger to his lips.

“Shh. You are one tonight.”

“That’s such a weird thing to say,” Spencer laughs softly.

I flash him a grin before finding a cream-colored sweater and dark jeans for him to wear. Usually, he’s in dress pants, but these jeans are almost black, so they’re still nice. Not too out of his comfort zone.

I turn around so he can change, not wanting to invade his privacy since we haven’t gotten to that part of our relationship yet.

When I turn to face him again, he’s pulling down the sweater. “Not too shabby, Dr. Reid. You look hot.”

A blush creeps up onto his cheeks. “Thank you. Can we go before I change my mind and beg you to let us stay?”

We head down to the parking lot, and I find the address for one of my friend’s friend’s parties. Instead of taking his car, we get an uber. I know he doesn’t plan to get wasted or anything, but he doesn’t want to drive even after just one or two drinks.

Spencer grabs my hand as we walk up to the front door. The host greets us and asks who I am. I tell him I’m friend with Preston, and that triggers his memory of me. It comes in handy knowing people.

Jade leads me into the house, and we immediately head for the kitchen to grab a drink. I need it if I’m going to be out with all of these strangers for most of the night.

“Try to have fun, okay?” She asks, shooting me a look.

I must’ve had the words “I already want to leave” written across my forehead. I hold up my hands in defense. “Yes ma’am.”

For the duration of the night, I feel like I’m her lap dog that’s following her around everywhere she goes. My entire college years, I didn’t go to parties, but now I’ve gone to two with Jade. I’m not good at them. I’m way too aware of my surroundings and how many people are sharing cups of beer, and with them so many germs.

She seems like she’s having fun, though, and I owe her that. I can’t even begin to imagine how things have been for her these past few months. Jade deserves something normal, and if this is her definition of normal, I’m glad to tag along.

Eventually, I find myself feeling slightly less awkward and out of place. The few drinks I’ve had are fueling me, and Jade notices me lighten up. She seems pleased.

“Having fun?” She asks, pulling me closer so we can hear each other better.

“I’m trying,” I say honestly, holding her hips.

Jade nods, laughing softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I smile faintly, leaning my forehead onto hers.

We’re dancing right now, and I’m doing my best to ignore all the sounds and chaos around us. It’s just the two of us in my head.

I let her guide our movements in whatever way she wants. My heart is pounding from the dancing, alcohol, and loud music. I’m a little dizzy, but I don’t want to stop holding her. Being this close is the part I actually enjoy about these parties.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She laughs, practically yelling at me involuntarily.

“Because you’re beautiful,” I say honestly.

Jade blushes, her lips forming into a soft smile. “Shut up.”

Instead of arguing with her, I kiss her. She tastes like fruity alcohol and vodka shots. She’s had a lot more to drink than I have, but she’s not throwing up drunk, so that’s good. My hands hold her hips protectively, keeping her against me.

Her fingers play with the hair on the nape of my neck, causing a soft sound of delight to release from my mouth and into hers. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or her irresistibility, but I’m craving her right now. I want to touch her in ways I haven’t yet. In ways I’ve been refraining from doing for what feels like ages.

We kiss for a while, it’s sloppy and heated, but I don’t mind one bit. I love it.

Her lips draw away from mine, and a wine releases from my mouth. I look down at her. She looks just as hungry for me as I am for her. If that’s even possible.

Jade takes my hand. She’s headed for the stairs, pushing past the crowd of people. It takes my brain a moment to register what’s happening.

I stop in my tracks, shaking my head.

“Come on, Spence. Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper-yell, taking his hand and stumbling while I try to pull him up with me.

His entire demeanor has changed.

“Jade, you’re drunk,” he says, tugging on my arm, causing me to face him. I almost fall, so I steady myself with my hands on his shoulders.

“So are you.”

“One of us is clearly more sober. Let’s get you home,” Spencer suggests.

“No, my dad’s home. We should do it here.”

“We’re not…” His frustrated voice trails off.

I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes, and it burns. “Why won’t you fuck me?” The words spill out of me before I have time to think.

“Jade.”

The way he’s says my name… god, I need him to stop. He sounds sympathetic. Like I’m some charity case for him.

“I don’t understand what I’ve done, Spencer,” I tell him, my heart slamming against my chest.

“You haven’t done anything,” he says gently.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong with me?”

“Jade,” Spencer sighs. “Let’s just leave.”

“You leave,” I demand.

“What?” He blinks, looking down at me worriedly.

“I’m staying. If you want to leave, then go.”

His hand meets my elbow, gently trying to get me to leave with him. But I’m not so easily convinced.

“Just get away from me,” I yell, not meaning to be so harsh. I let out a breath. “Just go.”

The pained look on Spencer’s face makes it easier for the tears to spill from my eyes. He nods, then turns around and starts walking away from me.

I wipe my cheek free of tears and occupy myself with something other than watching him leave.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid <3

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hollywoodsargeant · 5 months

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OMG YOU'RE ALIVE!!!

How's life going? I imagine you're pretty busy

Have you been writing lately? (Just curious, not in a "hurry up and give us more content" way), it seems like I can never find time to write and I'm curious if you still write even when you're busy🫠

HI YES I AM ALIVE. ik i’ve been very inactive lately i am just really busy 😭😭 college has been kicking my ass a bit and i’ve been picking up at work bc i am temporarily moving to florida in the spring (hey man) so it all makes me lazy when i do have downtime. also i think i mentioned this last time i was online but there’s a certain man in my life who has also proven to be Very distracting. boyfriend is bad for the fanfiction business

BUT! my semester is Almost over and i’ll admit i haven’t been writing as much as i’d like to lately but i am writing right now as we speak. answering this ask is me procrastinating on starting a new scene. rip me ig. so the answer is i def write less when i’m busy (i was writing so much over the summer bc i didn’t have a job and i was lit sitting in my bed all day every day) but i try my best… i do also have to write for classes a lot bc i’m a creative writing major and sometimes that takes all the juice. but writing for myself again! yippee! i lowkey forgot how fulfilling it is 😭😭

#ask #in the end. we are so fucking back #loscaring so hard rn

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kitkatscabinet · 2 years

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I loved your Dylan x reader so much, I was wondering if you could write something kinda like this if you’re still taking requests for The Quarry, where after the attacks that night everyone kind of loses contact with eachother just because of all them trying to sort out all their trauma from it and after a small time jump (maybe 2-3 years) the reader and Dylan run into eachother again and they kind of “start over” and he finally makes a move because he regretted never doing it before and that’s like the only thing he hasn’t gotten over from that summer. I hope that makes sense 🫠

Hi, I absolutely am still taking requests for the quarry, in fact, this was my last one so feel free to chuck more my way. I hope you enjoy this one, it's probably my favourite so far and I really enjoyed writing it :)

Genre: tooth rotting fluff

word count: 1307

Warnings: swearing

Three years ago, you had lived through the worst night of your life alongside your fellow counsellors. The only other people that understood what it was you were going through, the only ones that could possibly understand the nightmares, the phobias, the PTSD and everything that came along with surviving that hellish night. Unfortunately, you had lost contact with most of the other survivors following weeks of brutal questioning and detainment by the police. The only two you still had any contact with being Abi and Emma, neither of which you were initially very close with but shared trauma goes a long way in the friendship department apparently.

Your biggest regret, however, wasn’t the actions you’d taken that night, but it was the fact you’d allowed yourself to fall out of contact with Dylan. Memories being the only thing you had of him now and sadly not all of them pleasant. It had taken you over a year before you were able to sleep reliably and even now you still had the occasional panic attacks and nightmares. Fireworks and any similar noises had you hitting the deck like an experienced veteran and touching the back of your neck was a sure-fire way to start a panic attack.

Groaning as you locked to the door of your apartment behind you, a throat clearing had you freezing in disbelief. Slowly you shifted your gaze across the floor making eye contact with a pair of shoes, taking a deep breath you continued to lift your gaze as it eventually met with a nervous Dylan’s face. The pair of you stood in silence for a while him shuffling more and more nervously the longer you stared in disbelief.

“What the fuck” was what you eventually managed to say, jaw hanging slack “what are you doing here?” You were laughing in disbelief now, stepping closer to him hesitantly before bringing him into a crushing hug. Hysterical laughter bubbling in your throat, pulling back you held your hands on his shoulders “It’s so good to see you, what are you doing here?” you asked. Honestly you weren’t too fussed on how he’d found you too busy taking in his presence, he was here and he was alive and he looked good.

Bringing a nervous hand up to rub the back of his neck he took his time answering you as you ushered him inside the apartment you had just left. “Well, I… um. I’ve been trying to track you down for a while now and I stumbled across one of Emma’s live stories and noticed you were watching and… I kinda just went from there” his anxiety was easily noticeable to you as you sat down beside him on the couch and entwined your hands with his. So elated to see him again he ended up staying for hours as the two of you caught up, not noticing the sun had long gone down. You had found out that both of you had tried college but it had been to much too soon and neither of you had tried to go back since despite how miserable your current job was.

Glancing at the clock above your kitchen counter you gasped at noticing the time and ended up begging Dylan to stay the night when he revealed he hadn’t found any accommodation yet. You were both a little too tall to comfortably sleep on the couch so you had insisted on sharing your bed much to his embarrassment. But you didn’t mind, secretly thrilled to have him so close as the two of you eventually drifted off to sleep.

You were awoken a few hours later, blearily looking around for the source of whatever had caused to do so. Whimpers and frustrated movements from beside you had you quickly realising what was happening. Sitting up against the headboard you gently manoeuvred him so his head was resting in your lap and you could stroke his hair in an attempt to calm him down, whispering reassurances that he was safe, that you would keep him safe as he clamed down considerably and you fell asleep again.

Waking up the next morning Dylan was incredibly confused at the hand splayed in his face before memories of the previous day came to him and he followed the hand up to the body it was connected to. Sitting up abruptly as he realised the position he was in and accidentally headbutting you in the process and causing you to wake up.

“Ow, what the fuck” you cursed, holding your chin as you opened your eyes to take in Dylan’s panicked expression and the hand cradling his head. Piecing together what had happened you burst into laughter, eventually encouraging him to do the same, before he asked why you were sleeping sitting up. “Oh, you had a nightmare” you gently explained, watching his expression fall at the prospect of keeping you awake and then causing you to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position. Sensing that he needed some comfort just as much as you, you slowly pulled his head into your chest securing your arms around his body so he couldn’t escape. “Hey, it’s ok. I still get them too you know. Last night you just happened to have one instead of me. In fact, that was probably one of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while. You’ve got nothing to worry about” you promised in a soothing tone.

After that night you’d offered to let him stay with you for a while. Days, turned into weeks, turned into months, Dylan didn’t leave and you never kicked him out. He got his own toothbrush and had clothe sin your drawers. You’d woken up several times to an attempted breakfast made and you would occasionally go out to eat or shop together. Neither of you ever really discussed these changes because you didn’t think the words were needed.

It had been a shitty day at work but you’d come home to Dylan curled up on the couch, wearing a pair of your fuzzy socks and watching one of the Star Wars movies, looked like return of the Jedi but you couldn’t tell. Hearing the door open, he’d shouted you a greeting but hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen causing an intense affection to burn in your chest. Dropping your bag and kicking off your shoes, you made a beeline over to him dropping to your knees and placing your chin on the edge of the seat in front of his face.

“Hi” you giggled “Did you have a good day?”

“Hi” he smiled back; movie forgotten for now “it was alright, had Han Solo to keep me company. What about you?” he inquired.

“Pretty shit not gonna lie” you said nose scrunching up “fucking Debbie ruined like 3 orders and tried to blame it on me, the nerve of that cow.”

“Fucking Debbie” Dylan shook his head in offense, smile never leaving. Watching the way his eyes crinkled in happiness you were silent for a moment before

“I love you” you whispered out, bringing up a finger to boop him on the nose.

“I know” he wiggled his eyebrows in response, causing your face to contort in mock outrage. Huffing you made a show of standing to dramatically leave before a set of arms slunk around your waist and pulled you down onto the couch causing a squeal to leave your lips. Wheezing as your weight toppled onto him Dylan whispered into the skin of your neck

“And I love you.” Rolling your eyes at his cheesiness you responded,

“Uh Yeah, I know” you mocked in turn, causing him to snort and dig his fingers into your sides, tickling them mercilessly as you shrieked in laughter, heart full for the first time in three years.

#dylan lenivy #dylan lenivy x reader #dylan lenivy x you #the quarry dylan #the quarry imagine #the quarry oneshot #the quarry

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kitsunefox1108 · 2 years

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Can you please do a romantic Yandere self-aware game sonic X shy bullied reader please

yes, of course! enjoy reading ;)

YANDERE ROMANTIC! SELF-AWARE GAME SONIC X READER

If we're talking about Sonic being self-aware and he realizes he's in the game, then when he sees you, his yandere behavior will be worse than Sonic's yandere behavior if he didn't know it.

He was interested in you for a long time, and he tried to learn more about you, trying to make sure that you could not close the game, but only leave it in the background while you were busy with something else.

And that was enough for him to find out your favorite hobbies, what kind of food do you prefer, what is your favorite music, what games besides Sonic do you like, and tries to convince himself that you like him more than the others.

He is an obsessed stalker.

He can never get enough, he is constantly watching you.

He is obsessed with any attention you give him, and he is happy that you play games on him. That he is one of your favorite characters and you love to draw fanarts based on him (if you like to draw of course) he always mentally evaluates your work as perfect.

You were always very sweet to him, and given that you are very shy, you did not scream with an overabundance of emotions if you lost in a game, you did not give up, and in general you were pleasant and calm. It seems like an ordinary player, but how much you sunk into his heart with your tenderness.

He wants you to join him on his gaming journeys... and he even thinks it's possible.

However, you often came home upset, and with some kind of abrasions and wounds, which strained the blue hedgehog.

At the same time, he perfectly understands that you still do not know how much self-awareness he has as a game character...

But then he learned something sad.

One day, you came home from school/college, and no longer holding back, and not showing that you were disappointed, you fell on the bed, throwing your backpack on the floor, and started sobbing hard. Your wounds hurt terribly, and all you wanted was the hugs of a person close to you and less pain. Both mental and physical.

You were never really treated well in places like this, and all because they thought that if you look very nice and you are gentle, then at heart you are the most vile person who is hiding there.

But they never wanted to get to know you better, and only for your appearance they constantly insulted and mocked you. And the wounds have already become a daily occurrence.

But you're so tired of it.

It was hard for Sonic to look at you in such a state, and no Eggman, with his stupid behavior, could distract him from you.

He was confused, he didn't know whether to show you that he was alive. And reassure you, tell you to spend time with him.

But he removed the last confusion, and decided that the attempt was not torture, any day he could lose this chance.

- Um...Y/n... Turn around, please. - you heard a familiar voice, but at the same time you did not remember that you had relatives with such a voice. But you turned around, before wiping your tears.

And you saw him. A blue hedgehog in red shoes that looked only at you and was saddened by your appearance.

You scaredly pressed against the wall that was near your bed, looking at Sonic, and sniffing.

“Wh-what?... This is my dream, isn't it?...” you said softly, looking at him, not believing what was happening.

“This is not a dream, Y/N. I'm near. I want to help you. I am aware of what is happening to you, and I want to help you. I have self-awareness, and I knew about you all the time. Don't worry, don't be nervous, I just want to help.

And Sonic really made you feel better. He encouraged you, said that he could communicate with you at any time, and that he wanted to become friends with you. You gladly accepted the offer, and pressed your hand to the monitor / TV, smiling, realizing that you really felt better.

But this does not mean that Sonic lost his yandere qualities after that, nooo, now he will become more suffocating. So you probably won’t immediately notice how 80% of your attention goes to the blue hedgehog, which is fueled by this attention.

And one day he will take you with him to the game...

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic x reader #yandere sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #Yandere Sonic #request

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beesmygod · 2 years

Text

look: the only arguments in favor of webtoons ive ever heard hinge greatly on the idea that the vastness of the audience on webtoons is crucial to one’s success in the “webcomic business” nowadays. people need money to live. to make money quickly in the entertainment business (and i would like to stress that this is the first time the artist makes a choice: when they decide to pursue art as a career. deciding to do this is not a choice that should be made lightly. additionally, i do not believe that people are being forced to turn to webcomics in order to make a living lol. can you even imagine), they turn toward the algorithmically curated and inflated numbers offered by webtoons.

i’ll start this off with my bone fides so i have to clarify any of this in follow up posts: i started workshopping my webcomic on tumblr in 2012 with doodles and by answering asks people would send me. i would also just post lore dumps for funsies. they are so barely related to the comic now, but they created interest and people asked me cool questions that made me think about the world i was creating. i started the comic in 2013. holy shit i really am coming up on a decade of webcomics. hold on i have to stand up and walk around for a second. picture to break up all these words so your eyes dont slide off the page:

i made enough money on patreon (as a very early adopter) to live in beaverton, oregon (with first 3, then 1 other roommate[s]) living the most spartan lifestyle a person could manage in order to avoid having to go back to my hometown. now i live in confusing moderate comfort in a house my bf and i bought in a burst of sheer market based luck right before everything exploded. we used all of my savings i earned working from age 15-30 as a down payment.

i still try to take care of myself entirely and contribute a proportional amt of my income to the bills. i use government aid and use(d) it get a lot of medical help that i would not have been able to afford otherwise (medicare for all btw its unconscionable that this isnt the norm). i sincerely enjoyed my poverty and i felt like i understood how to live under those parameters with ease and comfort. i was poor but i was free. i do not like that i have to disclose this in order for people not to immediately dismiss me as coming from a place of monetary privilege. this shit is none of your business. im not interested being assigned a perception to my work and character that does not come from my words and deeds. i do not want “poverty artist” to be the signifier attached to me, forever, that people can scrutinize and obsess over whether or not i deserve the adjective i dislike.

but for things i do like: i like my audience very much, and i hope that they understand that they are under no obligation to care for me, keep me alive, finance me, etc. that is entirely my responsibility. but it is through their continued donations and support that i am able to draw my comic full time in a lifestyle i found comfortable, something that i sincerely imagined would not be possible while i was still working and in college. my audience of ~1.5k (i think, google analytics is kinda whack. lotta bots. this is with all that shit i could find filtered out) has been built up gradually over the past near decade and is comprised of funny, lighthearted freaks of nature who make me laugh very frequently. i just cant let them know that or they will become too powerful and use jokes to destroy me. i dont think i have a single bad thing to say about AGS readers. you guys are a hoot lol.

i do not have a discord dedicated to my work because i find the idea pretty unappealing and have had moderator experience in the past on other websites that i did not enjoy. i did not have comments on my comic until this year. previously the only way to contact me was via twitter, tumblr ask or email. i advertise my comic twice on update days, once in the morning and once at night, so i dont flood dashboards. i do not sign up for zines or jobs. i do not promote my work otherwise. well, there’s a link in my sa avatar, but let’s be real. no one’s clicking that.

WITH ALL THAT SAID:

i cannot empathize with the people who pursue the webtoons line of monetization and i find parts of (what must be) their reasoning morally abhorrent. im not even going to get into the predatory and laughable “pay per page” concept, an idea so blatantly evil that if it were pitched in any other medium it would get you laughed out of the room at best. im not going to talk about the ridiculous audacity of a comic host demanding you produce a minimum number of panels “per page” (im old lol bear with me) in order to be granted the golden laurels of “publication” (another choice the artist makes is the choice to pursue becoming a “webtoons original” as a financial goal. i think this is wildly unreasonable for every reason. but whatever. you might as well bet on winning the lottery). im going to talk about the bizarre mentality i cannot wrap my head around when it comes to what people are expecting when they sign up for a website that openly flaunts how disinterested it is in anything other wringing its user base financially dry.

if webtoons is not interested in anything other than financial gain and their purpose is to make more money every quarter at any cost, then why would that mentality not directly impact and poison the relationship between you and your audience, as well as your relationship with your art?

but lets put even THAT aside. god there’s so much i could hammer on. i will just focus on audience right now.

1. the quantity of an audience is not proportional to the quality of the audience. i dont think anyone is going to debate with me that the webtoons audience is good lol. this is because the webtoons userbase is comprised almost entirely of random teenagers and adults under 25. this age range is permitted to act like insane hooligans (to an extent) because that’s what the vast majority of us were like in some capacity or another at that age. i frequently hear complaints from creators about how their webtoons audience are frequently ungrateful, irrational, and impatient to them. this is the obvious outcome when two parties, especially parties that are doing business with each other, are shoved together due to algorithmic decisions and not by their own volition. both parties have been robbed of the opportunity of building up a relationship of trust and respect between the artist and the audience. however, building up this relationship takes time. and people want to be be making money as artists right now. presumably.

2. the primary purpose of an audience is not to obtain money from them. at least, dear god, i really hope this is not the idea driving people’s desire to do webcomics as a career. the creators entering the field with this mindset are DOA, straight up. even if you were capable of hiding your odious motivations, whose money are you willing to pursue? would you change your comic if it meant making more money from the audience? do the highest bidders influence the artistic choices being made? is that the relationship you want with your audience? in that case, why not just take furry porn commissions, a field which makes fucking stacks upon stacks of cash? why bother with webcomics and all this extra work?

3. why would an audience of teens and young adults have money to spare? lol for real tho. teens dont often have unfettered access to cash. college age adults are famously deeply in debt to the nightmare state we live in. to jump into this audience with your hands held open is going to result in disappointment when they’ve already prioritized giving what little they have to artists they already know. i dont know what people are expecting with this one. it’s like panning for gold in a swimming pool.

this doesnt even touch on the uglier stuff. but the choice to go all in with webtoon is foolish, selfish, motivated by greed and childish false promises of fame. i do not have any respect for the artists that line up in the hopes that they can simply “jump the line” and skip one of the most, if not the single most, important aspects of a career in art, as though it’s a tutorial mission they are simply too advanced and skilled to sit through. i am not going to feel bad for or comfort the people who saw a company strangling and smothering everything it touches, a company that is subjecting its customers into increasingly more incremental means of payment, a company that has objectively unreasonable demands for the art they host compared to what they pay out, AND WILLINGLY SIGNED ON TO SECURE THEIR OWN BAG.

so that they didnt have to build an audience! the fuck!

my assessment is that to use webtoons is to have a vast amount of disrespect for your audience.

#webtoons #long post/

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so-long-soldier28 · 1 month

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Idk if anyone's ever asked u this but what would ur life in tvd be like?! Including ur family ,career, friends, species etc lmao

oh ho ho, so this is certainly a thing i've considered

as someone who maladaptive daydreams all day long (whenever i'm not writing basically), trust me when i say i have an entire life planned out

in fact, the things i write frequently represent these daydreams, except i have an OC for them, whereas for writing, i am committed to the 'x reader' way

✨ including my readers in my world of delusion & fantasy ✨

but onwards and upwards…

species

first, I feel like being a heretic would be so fucking cool

like… vampire with witch powers, c'mon now… being the underdog your whole life and then rising to be the most powerful, it's gotta be redeeming

plus seems so fun

but personally, I think I'd stick to being just a witch, and I have a solid reason for this

now, being a vampire would be cool, too (and honestly I need to write more vampire reader fics), because I absolutely love the bloodthirsty, badassery of vampires

so if not a witch (bc I love the thought of being able to do magic), I would go with vamp second

I still hate the TVDU wolves. literally all of them. as someone who watches Teen Wolf now, I would LOVE to be one of those wolves, but as for TVDU, I still HATE those guys

being a hybrid doesn't sound too bad, although then both Klaus and Tyler would be all up in my business all the time, and that sounds awful

so no wolfishness for me

for species, I'd be a witch, but then I get turned into a vampire in my mid-20s

career

I need to eat, so I need to work

idk how anybody except Matt got by without a job

and like Matt, I work at the Mystic Grill, but I'm a little older than them, so I can bartend (even tho underage Matt does too)

I was going to Whitmore College, but dropped out (like I did lmao)

friends

Mystic Falls gang but in varying degrees of friendliness

most with Caroline, loving her bubbly personality; drift away from Elena when she gets tied up with the Salvatores; drift from Bonnie when she starts dating Jeremy, then drift further after the Kai debacle

also, the Originals

Kol has the title of the best friend; Bex is close, too

sometimes I'm so much of a Kolvina shipper that I can't split Kol & Davina apart, even tho I'm in love with Kol, too

Klaus is a frenemy; I like him when he's not murderous. he can be loyal when he wants to be, same with Elijah.

in fact, I liked Elijah in s2-era, but was also a little afraid. my crush fizzled out the moment I saw Kol, but then she & him became good friends instead (with both)

hooked up with Kol once or twice when he still lived in MF

friendly with Jo, but she's not really having it once I get with Kai

same with Luke and Liv... friendly, but Liv hates me after the merge

circa-season 7, I want to be friends with Nora & Mary Louise, but the MF gang works hard at keeping me away from them

amidst the chaos, I manage to get my way and befriend them anyway, earning their trust by being so close to Kai

when I die, I'm given blood by Nora, like in the fic I wrote recently, or Damon, who likes me enough to keep me alive and knows Kai would slaughter him if he ever came back and found out

seasons 7-8, I'm very much teaming on both sides, friends with MF gang and heretics, which is frustrating to MF gang (minus Caroline, who has become somewhat reliant on heretics for help with her pregnancy. + she always understands me anyway.)

frenemies

Tyler and Matt get their own category, bc I don't hate them, but they certainly piss me off

Tyler's just annoying in general, and I hate how he treats Caroline while he's away hybrid-ing

he gets better in s6 when he's trying to impress Liv & Caroline is over him. still not a friend, but less of an enemy

Matt, on the other hand, is complicated

he was my way into the supernatural bc we worked together

he had trouble keeping it from me bc vampires would always show up at the grill, and one time, he forgot I wasn't in the circle and ranted about vamps and wolves before he remembered

he and the gang still try to keep me out of it, despite my knowledge

but that all fails when Kol is undaggered, finds me alone, and we become friends

the fact that he actively hates vampires while hooking up with Rebekah bothers me, which causes tension between us

but he's stronger than he looks and loyal if he trusts you, so I try to keep him on my good side

family

my TVDU OC is the same OC I've had since I was 13 that I've slightly adapted for different fandoms

in TVDU, my parents are divorced; mom moved away, and toxic dad lives about 2 hours away while I'm in college

I hide whenever he comes to MF to visit

occasionally, my parents are dead like everyone else's

sometimes, though, I'm the older sister of other characters, but that varies per daydream

sometimes, I'm Tyler's older sister who is actually a wolf

triggered my curse young in life by accident, but didn't tell Tyler until he had triggered his own

sometimes, I'm even Matt's older sister, and he still spends every waking minute trying to keep me out of the supernatural

I've also used the Salvatore sister storyline with Kol, and Gilbert cousin one for both Kol and Kai

dating life

Kai, ofc

MF gang tried sooo hard to us apart, especially bc I'm a witch, but they lost that battle quickly

couldn't keep me from work, so whenever he'd come in for a drink and I was bartending, we'd talk

gained his trust through listening & he gained mine when I let him siphon

Matt and Damon first to realize we're friends, and know there's nothing they can do

fall into a relationship quickly

either beg Damon to spare him at the end of s6, or beg for his life in s8

had a crush on s2-era Elijah, but did a 180* and fell for Kol instead when he was undaggered

used as Kol bait when Caroline was Klaus bait, but despite a few hook-ups, never actually dated

became close friends & adore his relationship with Davina in NOLA

visit him there or wherever he is every so often

[I honestly never built a solid storyline around being with Kol or Elijah. (Elijah was my first favorite ever, and Kol's my second fave now next to Kai.) I entertain a world of delulu with Kol sometimes, but it lacks foundation.]

basically, he never died (obvs) and I move to NOLA with him (and he never dies there, too)

but I love both witch & vamp Kols, and both their actors, and I really should dedicate more time to delulu daydreams with them 😅

so, now that I've rambled...

species: witch, until Kai's death, then i become a vampire. however, if Kai doesn't die after s6, neither of us turn. (sometimes I'm feelin' heretic-y, sometimes not, what can I say?)

career: working at Mystic Grill; at Whitmore College for two years, but dropped out

friends: Caroline, Bonnie, & Elena first. Stefan & Damon post season 1 when Damon mellows out and I learn to trust Stefan. Kol & Rebekah, and I'm okay with the rest eventually (minus Finn).

family: divorced parents; mom moved and I stay away from my dad

frenemies: Matt & Tyler. s2 Klaus & Elijah. Finn, because I know he was mistreated by Klaus, much like Kol, and I want to be friends, but then he tries to kill his whole family, so I don't feel bad anymore. Then when Finn killed Kol in NOLA, he became a straight-up enemy. Also, I tolerate Alaric, but he annoys me daily in s6-8-era.

~~~

If anyone outside of this site read a single one of these sentences, I would be committed. I love fandoms / fanfiction, because all this stuff is perfectly normal to us. I love us as a community. Anyway, this was super fun to answer! 🥰 I'm sorry it took me so long!

#asks #tvd #the vampire diaries #when i was in ms/hs i did ALL of those tvd / hp / spn / pjo / twilight life quizzes ALL THE TIME #and this reminded me of that #also the last time i logged into quotev my screen name was kai and i was like 👀 bc i never got to s6 my first time watching tvd #so ig it's fate #idk what could've compelled me to pick that name #anyway thank you for the ask ily

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sodacansculptures · 4 months

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I started following you on Facebook some years ago, and then apparently forgot all about your stuff. It just popped into my head randomly and I wanted to see if you're still active and if you're still making soda can sculptures?

Hi, I apologize, I have no idea when you sent this since Tumblr (at least mobile) doesn't have time stamps, and for whatever reason, I don't get notifications about messages. You're the first person I've heard who has migrated from my Facebook page to my Tumblr, so thank you for joining the blog! Way more commentary here than there where my mom can see.

To answer your question succinctly: I am alive, and that's about the best I can say I've been since covid.

(I have donation links at the bottom, if you feel moved to want to help me.)

The extended director's cut answer:

After I made the Eevee sculpture, grad school ramped up and I figured I'd return to sculpting after I got my degree and settled into a job. However, I graduated in Spring of 2020, so the job I had lined up was withdrawn, and with all the budget cuts and layoffs in my field, I was competing for jobs with people who were trying to reenter the field and had decades more experience than me.

I did 100+ applications (I lost count at 120-something), dozens of interviews (including getting to the final round of all that had such a format--which is a stupid format. You don't need to meet me in a formal pretense 3 times, ask me riddles, have me take multiple hour-long aptitude tests, plus make me travel on my own dime just to tell me "no" and not even send like a "2nd Place Loser" gift basket or accept my LinkedIn request or anything). I got super stressed and super depressed.

I was so busy with trying to find a job and trying to deal with the breakdowns of not finding one. I tried applying in all the fields I was capable of at all levels: executive, mid, and gruntwork. I was turned down from entry level, no-talent-necessary jobs because I was overqualified. I was turned away from the others because of the lack of experience and unprecedented level and caliber of competition.

I was (still am) unable to pay my bills and, when not having breakdowns, I was calling, emailing, filling out applications, etc. for any and all financial aid. It was very arduous work and tedious with all the documentation they wanted from me, hold times on the phone, etc.

I had a non-profit (ADVOCAP) laugh at me when I asked for rent help because apparently they were overwhelmed and I wasn't going to get anything as I didn't have a job or kids and was considered a non-priority. Later when I was working with the ADRC, I asked if my case manager (I applied for disability, but I'll explain in a bit) if she knew of any rent help. She basically scolded me for asking and told me that it was unethical of me to seek that because "that's for people who actually have a chance." People who have jobs, she means. She explained that that money wasn't meant for me, and that was a whole unexpected slap in the face with a bag of dogshit. Didn't realize we had devolved into a utilitarian society quite that quickly.

I started working with FSET (my state's employment training and search help program. I was literally trying everything. Like I had also called my college and emailed all my professors asking for job help, and they had no answers other than like, "look online"). After months of no luck, FSET eventually convinced me to sign with a temp agency.

I worked 2 temp jobs that treated me like garbage (worsening my depression) and also paid me as such. I had lost all my savings to trying to stay afloat and my free time was non-existent, unless you count the hours I'd spend in the middle of the night just walking around my neighborhood listening to music--in an attempt to stop what seemed like endless crying--while I cried.

I tried selling plasma but they rejected me because I couldn't ever get my heart rate low enough, as my antidepressants increase heart rate. I tried going off of them, but I was on them for a reason, so I need to go back on.

When I graduated, I had bought myself a PS4 as a graduation gift to myself. I could afford it and thought I earned it. All the atmosphere of rejection and failure the pandemic created for me and my link to survival (employment should not be tied to survival. I was doing everything right and the system was failing me direly while virtually no one else who shared my experiences understood why I couldn't get a job when "everywhere is hiring" and "nobody wants to work anymore") and I started to hate myself for stuff like gifting myself the PS4. I felt undeserving, like a waste of resources, etc. because those were the messages I was constantly receiving directly and indirectly.

I eventually landed a job in my field and was hired on the spot. I felt like I had hit the jackpot and finally was going to be okay. Surprisingly to everyone in my life, the job made my life even worse.

I signed an NDA due to being horribly abused for the 10 months I was there, so I can't say much more than I just barely paid off my credit card, still had no free time as I was salary and worked nights and weekends in addition to my scheduled hours because the real reason they hired me instantly was not because I impressed them but rather because they were collapsing and desperate for anyone with some level of responsibility and capability. I hated that job, was bullied and abused extremely badly by coworkers and bosses and HR was no help, and when my performance review came back with negative impressions of me when I was sacrificing so much to keep the employment entity alive and functional, I completely broke.

I ended up hospitalized for months for suicide, and part of the NDA included resigning. I never fully recovered and don't think I ever will. I think I've seen and experienced too much to return to the idea that I could be the trailblazer my professors projected me to be (I now think professors don't actually provide an accurate representation of the field and encourage with no basis for their optimism).

The human mind is very easy to manipulate with propaganda, and I didn't catch myself being in a sort of “main character syndrome” and thinking that because I was Valedictorian of my graduating class and that I had so many national and international recognitions, awards, accolades, and qualifications that I was, for lack of a better term, pulling myself up by the bootstraps and going to be rewarded with a promising future where success is not just viable but imminent. I knew the world wasn't fair and that some people could do all the prescribed “right” steps and fail, but the operating paradigm (that had been ingrained in me since childhood from teachers who saw me as bright) I had held told me that I was far too talented and hard-working to fail. I had very little doubt that I wouldn't be successful. I was an ideal, hypothetical model of a pre-successful American worker.

So anyway, I didn't expect to have all the trouble that I faced finding a good job. At the end of the first summer of covid with nothing but rejections and employers affirming to me that there was nothing I could have improved on to get the job other than have prior experience, I was a discouraged worker who didn't even try anymore.

That's when FSET convinced me to do the temp agencies (who dropped me because one employer who was inhumanely abusive and ironically an HR department) gave a bullshit reason about me violating a protocol so they wouldn't have to make good on their promise to hire me after the temp period.

(I had allergies and it was literally the exact week in September when allergies were at their worst. A coworker, who hated me for some reason I never figured out and can only assume was jealousy, reported me for having a runny nose and I was immediately escorted out for bringing covid symptoms into the building. If I didn't go to work any day I had a runny nose, I wouldn't go any day. I take allergy meds literally every day of my life. My parents kept me too clean as a baby or something and didn't let me eat enough dirt, so an allergy panel showed I was allergic to every single common indoor and outdoor allergen).

Back to my suicidal hospitalization: I could say so much on the inpatient part. Suffice it to say I was never given my meds and there were no groups because they were understaffed and constantly wound up/pissed because of the uncooperative patients, so it was like prison where you had to argue with staff to get your basic needs met, and no soft surface existed and the water was always freezing, so it genuinely felt like being locked in a concrete box with no sunlight, no one on your side (they lied and said they called my psychiatrist and therapist. They never did. They also lied about ordering my meds), and no contact with the outside world. It was like a cruelly-designed Mr. Beast challenge with no reward in the end.

My friends said I was messed up for 2 weeks after and scary af because I was in survival-fight mode that would not turn off. I also was too overwhelmed by the outside world when I got out and could only eat pre-packaged snacks for a while because that was all I was used to/comfortable with.

Part of the agreement to let me leave inpatient was to do an intensive all-day outpatient program. I was actually dropped from that by insurance because I had undiagnosed ADHD among all my other issues and couldn't show up on time or sometimes at all. I still don't have my ADHD figured out because I had to convince my psychiatrist to refer me to a neuropsych who booked out for months to test me. I did it and got “Yes, much ADHD. All of the ADHD. Very wow.” So my psychiatrist finally believed me and agreed to start me on ADHD meds.

My psychiatrist and I are still working to find an ADHD med that would work for me. Vyvanse helped for a time, but my body metabolized it too quickly, leaving me with only around 6 functional hours in the day. I'm currently on extended-release Adderall, but so far not much help and there are too many other variables that could be fucking with it, like that my sleep-wake cycle is extremely unpredictable and I have a million appointments every day, so I am constantly sleep-deprived and am actually busier now than I was in grad school or any 8-hour job I worked.

The breakdown I had triggered me to develop fibromyalgia, so that has been a whole ordeal. I'm constantly in pain, it again took many months to see any doctor about it, and the meds take so long to start taking effect that we've been trying since June to find something that works.

The crucible that was my pandemic experience didn't refine me like fire refines gold or whatever the saying is but rather left me burnt, and not in the way that you can scrape the charred parts off of toast but like BURNT burnt (I can't think of an example. Maybe a popsicle. You're not getting that back once you take a flamethrower to it. Plus the stick would crumble into ash. RIP popsicle).

My life lately is a lot of appointments I often miss and have to reschedule, arguments with various agencies and even my doctors, breakdowns, and driving for Uber Eats because no one can fire me (but it pays beans and I get flack from restaurants and customers AND Uber because somehow the driver is the scapegoat for any issue that arises. I was so proud of my delivery aptitude and quality service until the tip-baiters and people being assholes for no reason started hitting me as common and daily occurrences).

A lot of people don't understand how UberEats works, but Uber doesn't even pay their driver enough to cover gas or depreciation on their vehicle for the mileage, much less the value of the driver's time and physical efforts. Tips are literally ⅔ of my income and my income does not cover my bills despite all the time I put in and algorithm I set up for myself that determines which trips to accept/reject for the most profit. It's a very toxic and unprotected form of employment. A lot of people lie that I didn't give them their food so that they can get a refund, but that comes back on me and risks my account being deactivated. It's virtually a fear-based system with some tricky artificial competition that Uber likes to throw in from time to time to convince us to drive for less and less pay.

I've looked into all the alternatives like GrubHub, Spark, DoorDash, etc. but I've been on their waiting lists for years, including GrubHub booting me off their list even though I was always quick to respond to their periodic question of if I still wanted to be on the list.

Between depression and ADHD, I can't work a normal job. I no longer have the capacity to keep a routine and can't show up to things with any level of reliability despite how badly I want to. I also don't have the spoons to deal with working with others or being accountable for tasks that feel--idk how to articulate it, but like--stupid to my autism. If something seems inefficient or not progressive (like not helpful to humanity) to me, I can't get my brain to do it. And with ADHD, if it's not interesting to me/something I am passionate about (I was extremely lucky that learning and receiving the praise from teachers I never got from my parents was my passion that got me so far and through multiple degrees), I can't get my brain to let me do it. Sometimes I just can't do anything, including things I want to do, and simply end up stuck. I wouldn't last in any job that wasn't self-directed and only happening when I have the spoons to be available. My options are very limited. And Uber can be slow. I've had times where I've waited 13 hours and not gotten a single request that wasn't going to cost me money to run.

Uber has some personal difficulties for me. In the summer, I found it a little bit fun, but now that it's cold, my Raynaud's is painful and I don't enjoy having to watch out for people who got their licenses from cereal boxes and don't know how to drive in the snow. It's an unpleasant sensory experience for me to work and honestly risky safety-wise. People don't turn on their porch lights for some reason (I have a headlamp now) and don't salt their walkways, and I'm uncoordinated because my dad didn't throw a ball at me enough as a kid probably, so there's ice, the treads on my boots are shot (and I can't afford to replace them), and I get banged up from falling on concrete.

I have a chiropractor and physical therapist, and they each said even before this that they could see me every day and still have something to work on with me. It's affirming, at least, to hear that professionals can physically feel how in pain my body is and that it's not just me being a baby. Part of it, I'm sure, is that I have PTSD (including from the traumas of my various pandemic experiences) and have horrible nightmares every night where I jerk around a lot in my sleep. I wake up every day feeling like I got hit by a bus, which is also partially why I don't get places on time.

On my own time, I'll spend 2 hours trying to get out of bed both overcoming the pain to move and convincing myself to get the willpower to. It's so much easier to just lie there and accept it, especially when I don't look forward to having to do another day. I don't feel rested because I spent the night working my body and brain, so I'm not sure I ever am rested. I need so much more sleep now, too, with fibromyalgia. This adds to my stress of outpacing my bills and just keeping up with the maintenance of myself and my apartment because that's less time I have to get things done.

I have 4 alarms (phone vibrating plus noise, an earthquake pillow one, my Fitbit vibrating on my wrist, and a Pavlok going all out screaming, vibrating, and shocking me with electricity), and it's still possible for me to sleep through all of them or somehow turn them off while half-asleep and go back to sleep. There are also times where I will be like, “Okay, getting up now,” and then I black out and it's 4 hours later and I missed 3 appointments that will take weeks to reschedule, if the clinic hasn't dropped me for the tardiness and absence. I'm running out of clinics to go to.

On a mental level, I am in a near-constant state of overwhelm that holds me inches from a full-blown, all-day breakdown at any given moment. Something about being so stressed with no relief for years on end has rewired my brain, I think, to make the adrenaline pathway so reinforced and the stress part of the brain overlit/overactive. I don't know how to relax. Doctors keep telling me I need to, especially with fibromyalgia, but I physically cannot seem to do it. I can't focus on anything like movies. Nothing is fun when I have always-present and terrorizing (by threatening my survival) pressure from all these stressors (mainly money. I'm in a constant race against my monthly bills, and each month, they creep closer and closer to outpacing me). I'm never happy to wake up and I'm always low-key scared. I'm desperate for security in any form.

I was so unable to do tasks after my suicidal breakdown that even though my psychiatrist, therapist, and general physician were begging me to apply for disability. I had hoped I just needed a few months of R&R and would be right back to being willing and able to work. That never happened, and it was extremely difficult for me to accept the fact that I was disabled. When I finally did, I begged for months for people to help me fill out all the forms (they were overwhelming me, which is, y'know, kind of a key feature of my disability) and no one did, so I lost months of time there. I eventually just had a moment of conviction or indignation or something that I was able to force myself to do them. I'm still kind of mad at everyone who didn't help.

My therapist actually did her best to help and, when the outpatient hospital ousted me because insurance refused to pay for it anymore, referred me to the county's CCS (Community Care Something-or-other) program. They gave me a worker who allegedly had some psychology- or human services-related degree who would help me function for 1 hour a week. I think the whole program is a farce and despite spending hours on this program, we accomplished absolutely nothing.

The first CCS worker I had was supposed to come over to my place (which had become a mess. I was a messy person before, as my apartment was a graveyard of unfinished projects due to my ADHD), but with my extended burnout, I wasn't cleaning and organizing on the level I used to. So I texted my CCS person a warning that my kitchen table was cluttered. I mean it to mean, “It will take me a minute to clear the table once you get here for your laptop for you to finish the unreasonably long entry paperwork on me, and I haven't gotten the energy to declutter it yet and won't until you get here because my ADHD needs a body double right now. She, for reasons I still don't understand, canceled the visit and never came. When I confronted her about what I meant, she was like…embarrassed to the point of not being willing to work with me anymore. There was a communication breakdown that I couldn't get her to communicate with me and she was somehow scared of how much and how articulated or something I communicated that she shut down.

I understand I “overcommunicate” from the perspective of allistics and neurotypicals [I had a bad childhood and was invalidated and wrongly blamed for things a lot, so I give as much explanation as possible to avoid any misunderstanding and articulate to the point that there won't be any ambiguities and thus can't be twisted into reason to punish me when I've done nothing to earn punishment. My caretakers as a child had their own mental issues that led them to being unreliable/unsafe to me and didn't offer me any feelings of security in relationships, perspective of reality (them taking their anger out on me and telling me everything, including their personal problems, was my fault), and ultimately everyone seems to say they want transparency and communication, but from my experiences and perspective, they don't want that. I have no idea what they really want. I give the level of communication I would want someone to give me and hope that they will just discard the parts they don't need/want, and apparently that's me being a burden or something and a “bad” quality.

Meanwhile, I WISH people would communicate and be transparent with me more. I think I am an understanding person who has done enough work on themselves to not repeat toxic patterns and be a healthy relationship to others. I don't listen to judge but to understand so I can work with the other person to fix any problems and work with what we got, not devalue them and distance myself or abandon them. Everyone on dating apps says they want this, but I've yet to meet someone who does. I think it's that people see this as an ideal but are unskilled at the time to play their role in the situation–both in offering and responding. I think I've put so many years of therapy and introspection into working on myself that others just haven't, so we're simply on different levels. I know I'm not alone in my experiences, but it's very isolating when you don't meet people who have done the same work.

Anyway, I got assigned a new CCS worker and she did not do all that work I described. When I was told I would be assigned to someone else, I specifically asked for one who has seen some shit and that nothing I do or say will move them. They did at least give me someone older with more experience, but she either over- or under-estimated me (I can't discern which). She, working in the same building as my therapist and being basically in at least a good bit of communication with her when I wasn't around, knew that I had a lot of crap going on that I needed more therapy/support/help unraveling and making sense of and peace with than the 45 min/week I got with my current therapist. So she offered to be like a second therapist and said I could tell her absolutely anything.

As the pattern of this narrative likely already cues, it turned out I could not tell her absolutely anything. I was a few months into my transition and no one prepares you for some of the changes. My endocrinologist had only told me, “You might go bald.” I thought my years of research and consulting with transmen in my life had encompassed all I needed to know. However, we sometimes do not know what we don't know and thus don't think to ask the questions we need to ask. As probably an autistic/abused person trait of mine, I speak very clinically and technically. At the time, I had recently been speaking with my therapist about anatomical changes that triggered emotions I was not prepared for. I attempted the same sort of conversation with my new CCS worker, but she yelled me for being inappropriate. Not just scolded but legit yelled, as if I wasn't a full grown adult capable of reason and discussion.

I was confused on what I did wrong, since I thought I was just taking her up on what she willingly offered. I am also a firm believer in the Mister Rogers quote about how anything that is mentionable is manageable (which goes back to why I don't listen to judge but rather to collaborate and also why I see disagreements as us vs. the problem rather than me vs. them. I do not feel the need to yell at someone unless it's like an emergency of some sort and there's a threat that yelling can somehow address and be beneficial to the situation).

From my perspective, I was being shut down and punished/shamed for asking for help with a problem that legit scared me and that I was willing to be vulnerable enough to share. I consider that sort of thing sacred and not something that can be trusted in everyone's hands. But the way she responded, to me, reinforced that I was a person unworthy of help: a message received from my childhood caretakers and all the people who were supposedly there to help me during my pandemic crises.

I couldn't bring myself to trust her anymore or even want to see her again. I'll admit that's a bit of my Emotional Dysregulation Disorder weighing in, but I didn't want her in any intimate spaces I'd need to let her into in order to serve me in her CCS capacity. I had had too many things go wrong lately in that time to not shut myself down to prevent more hurt by simply refusing any future opportunity for more hurt to occur. I was well beyond my limit and it took much convincing from my therapist for me to even give CCS a chance to help me.

Still, I asked to be reassigned to another CCS worker, this time knowing that I could not trust what they claim to offer and just keep the things we work on surface-level functioning--like cleaning my oven or going through the pile of mail I hadn't opened in weeks because their potential contents paralyzed me with fear.

I was denied my request and let go from the program as they felt I had burned through 2 workers and thus proven that I am not a good candidate for the program. I still don't agree with this and argued, but after weeks of (a reasonable number of) periodic emails and voicemails, I never got an email or call back. In hindsight, I maybe should have reported to the county what happened, but it's been like a year.

That mostly brings us back to the present. I have been back in FSET since Spring but just focusing on staying afloat with Uber/working on whatever I can handle. I had a whole researched and designed pitch asking them to fund the several hundred dollars it would be for me to become a mobile notary, but they denied my request as they lack the funds. They also denied my request for new boots for the Uber hazards because they felt it was a fashion thing and not a need. Agencies, or honestly anyone with any power over me, not understanding me even with my articulate, crystal-clear explanations isn't surprising to me anymore. And counterintuitively, more explanation (even from different approaches) does not help and just makes me think I'm weird, which somehow is taken as more cause to not grant whatever request it is I am making in the first place.

So I Uber, I argue with doctors and agencies to try to get my needs met, and I have breakdowns despite my efforts to not. I have always had a massive list of more sculptures I want to make. I do want to get to a point where I can make them someday. I've been waiting on disability for an answer for nearly a year and done all I can to bolster my case with getting doctor testimonies, giving my testimony, noting clinic visits so the person assigned to my case can view the findings of them, getting an ADRC contact to guide me (though looking back, she didn't help at all and it was me searching out and discovering everything on my own while all she did was forward what documentation I had to the state for me)... All I can do is try to survive until they say “yes,” but they usually say “no” first (which is why an alarming number of people file bankruptcy and/or die waiting for a disability decision), especially since mental health reasons are the hardest ones to get approved, and my ADRC contact has been using language such as, “This will make it easier for next time,” and I'm not prepared to hear her tell me she thinks we'll have to file another claim and wait another year, so I don't ask

I feel terrible that I've not been sculpting or posting. I miss engaging the Tumblr community and sharing my art with people who appreciate it (and not tell me it's garbage. Wtf, Grandma).

The fact that I couldn't actually bring myself to commit suicide and still don't even though the extremely-difficult-to-survive--particularly with multiple debilitating ailments--and high cost I incur daily to myself trying to keep my head above water as long as I can, tells me that there is a life better than this that I want to live. I can't fathom for myself anything other than what is current, and I am putting all my chips into believing that I could be wrong and there's a chance all my striving will eventually meet stable ground to rest upon, where I can return to myself and make art again. I hate to think this wreck is who I really am and want to believe this is just who I am under a stupid-amount of pressure that no human should ever have to endure. A lot of people have been quick to point out all the resources, but I guarantee I've pursued all of them hard and received some help but not nearly enough. It's hard to wrestle with the feelings of not being enough to live or not being worthy of living because it's such a struggle for me to throw enough money at bills/expenses to allow me to live. It shouldn't cost someone all of themselves to try (and imminently fail) to earn the allowance to live.

Things like the ACP and student loan freeze (I owe $80,000+ because college is an overpromising, commercialized thing that is more gamble than guarantee) are ending soon (or maybe have ended and I just haven't opened my mail to know), and I'm deathly afraid. Uber isn't enough and on down-times with them and when my various ailments aren't being debilitating, I work on selling things to try to make enough for the month. Obviously I'm eventually going to run out of things to sell.

I'm also fearful that my estimated disability check, if I get one, is only going to be $900/month, because I didn't get enough work experience to be allowed more. I genuinely don't know that that's going to be enough, especially since the price of everything like rent is inflating. I don't know how long I can financially sustain my means of survival. But I'm still doing everything I can. It's jarring to go from decorated Valedictorian to…whatever exhausted mess this is.

My parents stopped asking me months ago how things are going because they know it's never good. They don't have the means to help me as my mom got laid off of work, my dad has dementia and doesn't work, and if I have to live with them again, I would essentially be signing off on my own death certificate because even spending a few hours in that home, with those people, is enough to completely drain me, trigger so much PTSD, grind my mental health down even more with whatever new dynamics and energies they decide to inject in our interactions. I wasn't free to fight the battles I needed to until I moved out into my own private space, and since it is the cheapest option in the entire city and so necessary of a component to my mental health, my therapist identified keeping my apartment as my number one priority. With my mental health, I wouldn't do well at all or be able to get back on my feet if I was homeless.

This turned into a lot more than I intended, but I'm really satisfied that it explains my situation and makes it known that you can do everything right and still lose. The system will cannibalize you if you don't have money to start with and don't have the means to keep it coming. Poverty charges interest and there are no days off, especially if you're disabled. There are no real safetynets and the ones that exist are overwhelmed, underfunded, underpowered, and essentially only serve to make the ones who don't need them feel satisfied (and aren't outraged and pushing for changes) being sold the lie that those who need help have it available to them. Having an inside view of what the experience is, I am apalled at how little systemic support or consideration there is for the disabled, especially since it is the largest minority group that anyone can join at any time.

Some days suck worse than others, like when the weather is so bad that I cannot Uber or when my pain or mental state has been aggravated and I haven't made enough time for self-care so it has decided for me when self-care must be attended to. I wish I could give myself the self-care my mind and body need so I can be healthier, more resilient to setbacks, and feel less pain, but honestly some nights I don't even go to bed because there isn't enough time/I can't afford to not be working or selling things. Society likes to frame self-care as a luxury and only recently (since covid attacked everyone's mental health) did self-care start to be widely accepted as a need. It's just too bad all that rhetoric amounted to is awareness without action. Capitalism still demands and glorifies the nonstop grind, even if it kills us.

Obviously some days are better than others and it feels incredible when I feel a genuine smile spread across my face. I wish it wasn't so foreign of a feeling, but the fact that it is makes it more impactful. I try to give my attention to hope, even if I have no practical basis to believe it exists.

Receiving this ask did ultimately bring a smile to my face because it means I'm still cared for in a world that kicks me to the ground daily and says I don't deserve care. It is so hard for me to even care about myself a lot of the time, with all the negative messages I've internalized from my dominatingly high ratio of experiences that are rejection or failure in some form. Ultimately, we all just want to be loved. Thank you so much for reminding me that pain isn't all there is for me (it's easy to get sucked into that mindset after years of nearly everything gutting me. I often fail to even notice myself falling into it and being consumed by it).

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation for my absence and that no one is mad at me or blaming me for it that I would need to provide some sort of justification. But I wanted to communicate with you all because I love you. I genuinely mean that.

I still think about this from time to time and I still want come back to making and sharing sculptures and just having fun hearing all the things you have to say about them and how delighting, inspiring, or entertaining you find them. I consider the ability to do that and this Tumblr page to be one of my greatest things I've made. I don't care about money and despise that money dictates virtually every aspect of my life in the worst way. Community, creativity, and self-improvement motivated by joy/love rather than profit/fear are of infinitely more value to me. I'm still pursuing that dynamic in the end through all of this.

By no means is anyone obligated to donate to me, but if you can afford to and want to, I'll post my payment platform things below (some may still have my birth name attached). Any amount helps and Lord knows I dove for a penny on the ground last week.

If you can't donate but still want to help, reblogging can help no matter how little reach you feel your blog has, and I also would appreciate words of encouragement or support. I also just want you to know that if you've been reading this far, I really appreciate that you care enough about me to do that.

All of my love,

Stan

(They/Them)

PayPal:

@Stanwagner09

Venmo:

@asclw7643

Zelle:

[email protected]

#Thank you everyone for your support #and thank you chronically-issy for checking in on me #chronically-issy

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