#and get venmoed immediately

[etirabys]

thinking about getting sexiled on short notice in my freshman dorm (worst case: coming back from a shower to find door locked & hair tie around the doorknob) and how ludicrous that seems to me now. "a fundamentally unserious way for people to coordinate around sexual activity"

[shadyhouse]

my rent payment went through at the worst time and now I'm severely in the negatives :( if anyone is able to help me out i'd really really appreciate it... i have $140 on paypal on top of this, and i have a job interview in a couple hours i have a good feeling about and my commissions are always open at the moment! dm me if youd like to see examples because i make nsfw art and i cant put that here unfortunately

vnm: tobias_leviathan

pp: paypal.me/bewearrr

thank you 🙏

[h0neyfreak]

I wanted to see if I could get Lana @ Fenway tickets as an early bday gift for my brother who is obsessed with her and then pay for his flight up. And I completely forgot how unhinged stadium ticket pricing is for big artists. I got Noah Kahan field box tickets for like $300 on the third day of trying and that was a big splurge for me. Meanwhile these tickets currently START at $250 for an obstructed view way up in the middle of nowhere as of the first day.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | gas money

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : how they react to you telling them another man paid for your gas

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 885

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was hilarious to write LMFAO

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

silently stares at you for 5–7 business seconds

“was he old? young? did he look like the type to try something?”

insists on filling your tank from now on, no matter what

might ask you to describe his car so he can avoid that gas station forever

acts calm but logs it in the suspicious men who exist file in his brain

yuki tsunoda

“HUH? why??”

weirdly proud and mildly offended at the same time

“next time send me his venmo i’ll pay him back and then block him”

starts acting extra flirty and clingy all night just in case

absolutely forces you to tell the story to the boys like it’s a comedy bit

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

“do you think he had weird intentions??”

tries to stay composed but is 100% spiraling

“darling, this is why I say let me fill up your car”

types out a paragraph on boundaries and deletes it

offers to start driving you everywhere "for convenience"

kimi antonelli

blinks. nods. “what was his license plate?”

asks like he’s joking but you know he’s not

completely unreadable expression but sits a little closer to you after

“you know I’ll pay for your gas, right? all of it. forever.”

keeps one arm around you for the rest of the day like a warning sign

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

confused and offended in a cute way

“he just… offered?? for no reason??”

“you didn’t smile too much, right? like not flirty smile?”

pouty and dramatic but kisses your forehead anyway

makes you promise to text him next time you're at a gas station alone

lewis hamilton

instantly goes into protective boyfriend mode

“are you okay? did he make you feel weird?”

doesn’t care about the gas, cares if it felt off

gets quiet for a second then offers to put a gas card on your keychain

“i don’t want you having to rely on random men, love”

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

“wait—he PAID for your gas?? bro what—”

95% jokes, 5% wants to fight

fake pouts the whole way home

“guess I’ll just go broke watching other men fund your commute”

sends you memes about gas station sugar daddies

oscar piastri

“was it, like, creepy or just a nice old man thing?”

gets unusually quiet if you say the guy was attractive

“i mean… cool for you, i guess” cue jealous silence

offers to start filling your tank weekly just in case

later randomly asks “so what pump number was it again?”

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

smirks. “ah… still got it, huh?”

not threatened but very territorial

“did you thank him with words or with your eyes?”

jokes, but definitely kisses you a little harder that night

pulls up in his car next time you need gas and does it himself

lance stroll

“i—wait. why?”

genuinely confused at the idea of strangers doing nice things

“you didn’t ask him to, right? like… he offered?”

laughs it off but internally annoyed

literally just gives you his credit card just "cause"

ʚ・williams

alex albon

“did you at least get snacks out of it too??”

not mad, just playfully jealous

“he better have filled it all the way”

wraps his arm around your waist for the next hour

carlos sainz

immediate eyebrow raise

“why didn’t you call me?”

suspicious but not outwardly mad — yet

says he’s fine but mutters “some random tío paying for my girl’s gas…” later

goes with you to fill up the next three times in a row

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

“wait wait wait, WHAT?”

gets all flustered and adorable about it

doesn’t know if he should be worried, mad, or impressed

“you swear he didn’t ask for your number?”

offers to send you money for gas for the next six years

esteban ocon

concerned.

“do you feel like he was trying to get something from you?”

has an entire internal debate about whether to go back to that gas station

tells you he’s proud you handled it but definitely checks your location next time you go out

insists on a Starbucks detour “just to reset the vibe”

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

“huh. did you let him?”

gives you a squinty side-eye for five minutes straight

then suddenly wraps an arm around your waist like “mine.”

fake calm but dead serious

“if it happens again, ask him if he wants to sponsor your boyfriend’s career too”

isack hadjar

“hold on, lemme find this man and shake his hand—”

joking but also not

“this is some rom-com plot twist shit. am i being pranked?”

says he’s fine but paces around the kitchen for a bit

absolutely sends a petty venmo for $5 with the caption: “for your gas, not his.”

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

“oh really? what did he look like?”

casually jealous—still flirty, still possessive

“did you wink at him or was it the hair? it’s the hair, isn’t it.”

acts normal then kisses you with a lot of tongue later

pretends he’s not thinking about it. absolutely is.

franco colapinto

“wait, huh?”

takes a minute to process

goes quiet, starts planning an over-the-top “gas station date” to outdo the stranger

“babe next time let me do something romantic”

fills your car the next morning and leaves a flower in the cupholder

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

“ugh. men.”

rolls his eyes like he’s seen it a thousand times

“don’t let it go to your head. i’ll still be the one buying dinner tonight.”

pays for everything that day without saying why

mutters “he’s lucky i wasn’t there” under his breath

gabriel bortoleto

jaw drops

“like… just offered?? for free??”

cute confused boyfriend energy

“was he old? he better have been old, like ancient.”

tries to act chill but clings to you the rest of the night like a koala

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[awakeningthevioletswithin]

I HAVE to make sales tonight!. I have to make sales every day this week to have any chance of not getting evicted.

Please buy some art!!!

I'm out of ways to plead my case. I need fans of my art to buy it, so I can keep making it. You don't have to pay all at once. I've always offered installments. I'll take donations I just have to placate my landlord with money.

Immediately!!!

Venmo-Kate-Havekost

Paypal-havekatart@gmail.com

[cutecipher]

Hi we need to buy a few things to fix my wife's glasses, we have tried epoxy, superglue and some thin wire, unfortunately none of that has worked so now we need to go a bit more extreme and try some thicker wire that can be bent into shape. It'll be about $25 for that and the tools needed. I also need to get more medication which will be around $40. We have other expenses but these are the most immediate. Please help two disabled trans women out.

Venmo: AGIEF

Cash app: $cmder

Paypal: agieocean@gmail.com

Ko-fi:

[naamahdarling]

Jasper did great. He should be all right, assuming the recovery is straightforward.

It was "a bunch of gross hair and other stuff." We will get full details on THAT later.

He's resting comfortably and will come home later today once he's had some fluids and rested a while.

(For those late to the horrible drama, Jasper had an intestinal blockage and needed a $3k emergency surgery. We maxed out our Care Credit and got the rest together from previous donations we were holding for home repairs and donations last night, so it's been covered for now, but we need to bring that Care Credit down immediately in case something else happens. I can't check where we are at because it's my BF's PayPal but we are already $5k plus in debt from the boys last year and we need to fix the mold issue in my room, so it all gets put to good use. We are in a bad way.)

PayPal theothershea@gmail.com

Venmo @just-shea

Thank you to those who have helped.

[itsactuallyicedcoffee]

I hate doing this, I really do, especially since my last post about this lost traction almost immediately. but I don't exactly have a lot of options, so:

I got even more broke somehow and I can't keep putting off my car repairs.

being alive is getting more expensive for all of us, i know, and we're just passing around the same $20 bill to whoever needs it at the moment, but besides having my bank account overdrafted because of bills, I gotta replace the brakes on my car before they really start to go, as well as an oil change, which it has probably needed since I bought it, i'm gonna need a bit more cash than usual. anything you can give will help, but the more the merrier. if you can't give anything, please at least reblog this for exposure. I don't want this to evolve into a dire emergency. thank you. I wish there was more i could do to help the rest of you when you need it.

0/$250

paypal: lmagefoley@gmail.com

venmo: itsactuallyicedcoffee

ko-fi: dunscaith

[chlotual]

hey so im Broke as hell again……i hate doing this but if someone could send like $80 thru cashapp ( its the only way i can get the $ immediately, pp n venmo only allows transfer in 1-3 days) so i can pay my phone bill + get some food thatd be so appreciated 🤍 my cashapp is $cjmuller thank u in advance! [edit : changed the goal to $80 bcs i forgor that im in the negatives 😅)

[optimysticals]

TL:DR - Our van was stolen again. She's been found, but we need financial help to get her fixed and home from California. Links to help at the end.

Hi friends.

We're sharing this because 2025 is making it clear that we need help.

This last weekend Adrian was in L.A. for Gallifrey One, and on the way to the show Sunday morning he and his helper planned on stopping by our van.

Only, our van, the Iris, wasn't there.

The Iris has been stolen twice before, during the 3 years she was also our home, so Adrian immediately went into a panicked trauma spiral.

His amazing friends at the convention stepped in. His helper and another friend opened the booth while he talked to hotel security confirming the van was removed from the closed lot at about 3am.

They continued to run the booth while he went across town to the closest police station to file a police report (because you can't do it over the phone). Since the van was registered to Mikka he had to video call so the officer could confirm Adrian was allowed to have been driving it and could file the police report. There was also the fun of California not being able to access Oregon's DMV information.

Intermittently during the filing process Adrian was able to secure a rental van so that when the convention ended we had somewhere to put all our stock and displays, and a way to get home. It came out to $1750.

Adrian's friend went to get the rental after he got back from the police station.

Word had gone around the vendors and our booth neighbor took up a collection. We often say Gally is family, and this was absolute proof of that fact. The collection took a chunk out of the rental cost and really made it feel less hopeless.

The Monday plan was to start driving back to Portland, and when they got home then planning could start for how to get our booth to ECCC.

Shortly before Adrian stopped for the night Mikka got the call from the LAPD that the Iris had been recovered, and impounded.

So now while Adrian finishes driving home we are coordinating a mechanic to fix at minimum the door lock and ignition that had both been drilled out, but also possibly other damage that we won't know until the mechanic can get to it.

The mechanic can't get to it till Thursday, which means we have to pay impound fees for 4 days, plus the tow to the impound lot, and the tow to the mechanic. The estimate for that portion is $500-600.

Assuming the Iris isn't horribly damaged the repairs should be done by Monday. We can get Mikka a flight down to LAX for between $50-$250, depending on what's available when we book it (we don't want to book until the mechanic has looked at the Iris and confirmed they can fix everything).

From there Mikka will just need to drive our van home and cover about 3 tanks of gas.

We're looking at anywhere from $850 to $1150 before repair costs (and not including the $1750 rental), which we figure could be $150 or could be $1000 (who even knows with car repairs). And we need to do this all in the next week so that the Iris is home and safe for ECCC the week after.

And it sucks but we need help. We got about $300 from our lovely vendor friends, and that really did help. But were hoping our wider community might be in a position to help as well.

We just don't have the spoons to do a gofundme so if you can help our CashApp is $AdrianElliot, PayPal is wonderwoman@optimysticalastudios.com, Venmo is @AdrianElliot13, and you can also buy stuff from the website if you want goods in exchange for coin. And if you're not in a place to help financially, sharing this will help too.

[thischarmingmandalorian]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Couple, Bar Chapter 1

Summary: After you help Joel with a work project, he takes you out for drinks. When the bartender mistakes you for a couple, his brain short circuits.

Pairing: Single Dad Neighbor!Joel Miller X Reader

Warnings: Joel thinking being mean is flirting, alcohol, grinding on strangers, getting groped in public, no-no words. In my mind there's an age gap (10 years max) and I envision a mid-40s Joel, but I don't think it'll ever become apparent.

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Formatting on mobile is not for the weak, y'all, so if this looks like ass I'm sorry. I don't know what a contractor does. Song mentioned is Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers. Full playlist is linked on the master post for this series (which I'll learn to link all together soon I promise I'M OLD, OK?!) Also I promise I have an English degree but if I read this one more time I'll lose the nerve to post it so ignore any mistakes I missed. Anyway love you bye.

While you weren't on your neighbor Joel's payroll, every now and then he'd knock on your door and sheepishly ask to borrow your "eye for design," which was Joel talk for "I need help knowing what handles look good on these cabinets I'm building and every other person in my life is busy."  

You and Joel had been neighbors for the better part of 5 years and had become relatively close in that time. If you were being honest with yourself, the first day you met you might have fallen in love, but since immediately jumping into a relationship with a newly-divorced single father wasn't on your five-year plan, those feelings were buried, albeit not always successfully.

Joel was charming, kind, and... Southern.  And while these were all things that made you head over heels for him, they were exactly what made it difficult to interpret his feelings for you. Were he and Sarah baking you Christmas cookies and hand delivering them to your door because he too had a crush, or was he just being neighborly? Was he grinning every time he said hello to you because he was a nice guy? What were you supposed to make of that one time, on his couch for movie night, when his hand lingered a little longer than normal on your thigh? You had no idea, and for the sake of your friendship, you were content not knowing.

On this particular day, Joel needed help matching paint colors to flooring samples and might as well have been color blind. He was building a house for a newlywed couple and their wishes for, as Joel put it, "some 1960s Brady Bunch bullshit" aesthetic meant nothing to him. You had spent the better part of an hour helping Joel match swatches of green and orange in ways that he had previously thought impossible, and as a thank you, he offered to buy you a drink at the first bar you spotted on the way home.

The first bar you spotted happened to be an almost-literal hole in the wall, but the packed parking lot indicated it was a place worth visiting.  Joel opened the door, beckoning you through the threshold ahead of him, and you're hit with a wall of smoke and the bump of a local dj working through his set. 

Luckily most of the people at the bar had already started drinking and were congregated in the middle of the tiny dance floor, making it easy to find two seats. Joel flagged the bartender over and ordered for the both of you, handing his card over to start a tab.

"Got you a beer, this place doesn't look like they'd make a good margarita," Joel shouts over the music. 

You smile, leaning in close to thank Joel. "I appreciate the forethought! Send me a Venmo request for what I end up owing you," you gesture to the frosty bottles that get put in front of you.

Joel tuts and waves his hand between you two in a noncommittal gesture. He leans in close to your ear instead of shouting this time, "consider it payment for your help today. When that couple told me they wanted their house to be 'midcentury Palm Springs chic' I knew you'd know what they meant. The wife kept sending me links to her Pinterest board, whatever the fuck that is. I was too scared to click them because..."

"Because you're fucking old," you finish, barking out a laugh at the frown that Joel gives you.

After one beer turned into three, Joel starts to open up. Despite his gruff exterior, you know he cares and is interested in your life, even if it takes some alcohol to get him asking about it.

"Have you started dating yet?" The question catches you off guard, your eyes growing wide. "What? You've been in town for five years now, it's high time you start putting yourself out there. A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a man."

There it is again. Is Joel just being nice calling you pretty? Or is he fishing for something more?

"Have you started dating?" you counter, raising an eyebrow, nodding when Joel shakes his head. "I'm too busy, Joel. I'm…"

"'Focusing on my career,'" Joel finishes for you, having heard it all before.

You roll your eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"

Joel smirks and cocks his head to your beer, the label in the process of being peeled completely off. "You've peeled the label off every drink you've had tonight."

"Oh…kay?"

Joel shrugs, "if Tommy were here he'd say you're pulling the labels off because you're sexually frustrated." He makes a face as if to say 'but what do I know?'

You raised an eyebrow at Joel. "You of all people should know not to take what Tommy says as fact. And you're one to talk; you live across the street, I'd notice if women were coming over. And they're not. You're going through a dry spell, Miller, same as me." You empty your bottle, stuffing the label down the neck and waving the bartender over for you and Joel to order one more round.  Joel tries to think of a witty comeback, but he knows you're right. 

You watch the bartender open your tab on the till behind the bar and chuckle when you notice what she's titled it: at the top of the screen, in bold letters, "COUPLE BAR."

You tap Joel's bicep, pointing to the screen, "look at that, Miller," you shout over the music, "she thinks you and I are a couple."

Joel looks at the screen himself, eyes suddenly going wide. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he isn't just chuckling at the bartender's misunderstanding, but your expression turns to one of anger once Joel regains use of his brain and the only thing he can think to say is, "... ew?"

You hope you just misheard him over the loud music, but as Joel started to sputter out an apology, looking horrified at what he had said, you realize - a stranger thought you two were dating, and Joel thinks that's gross. You weren't interested in hearing him trip over his words while he tried to backtrack, and you desperately needed a distraction so you didn't start to cry.  You wave your hand in front of Joel's face, telling him to save it as you grab your beer and push past him to the dance floor.

This is definitely not your scene, the middle of a smoke-filled bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but you make the most of it, taking a swig from your bottle as you push through the crowd. Once you've made your way to the center of the crowd, you assume the position - eyes closed, bottle raised above your head, swinging your hips to whatever top 40 hit the dj decides to bleed into the last one he played.  You don't have to wait long before you feel a body push up behind you and you welcome the distraction. You don't open your eyes or lower your hand except to drink from your near empty bottle, but you do back your ass up against the stranger behind you. It's definitely not Joel. This person behind you is way too lanky; when his arms encircle your waist they lack definition, his thighs aren't nearly as beefy as Joel's, and… you get frustrated with yourself.  Joel just insinuated dating you would be gross and all you can do is think about how hot he is? 

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and enjoy the moment. The guy behind you is getting handsy, and normally that would bother you, but Joel was right about that dry spell. One song bleeds into another as you gyrate against this stranger who now has his hand splayed across your stomach under your shirt.

You're ripped unceremoniously from your mindless grinding by a large hand on your shoulder. You wink one eye open though you knew it was Joel. You're not interested in hearing him out, especially not with this stranger's hand gliding slowly up your torso, boldly inching closer to your chest.

"Darlin'" you hear Joel shout over the music, "'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

You put your palm in front of Joel's face before moving your hand on top of the stranger's, whose fingers are teasing the hem of your bra. Joel can be sorry, but he's also going to see how decidedly not-ew the thought of being with you is.

"Whatever, Joel. You can think being my boyfriend is gross. This is fine!" You open your eyes and the look on Joel's face is one you've never seen before. At this point he isn't looking at you, he's staring daggers at the man behind you. Whoever he is seems blissfully unaware.

"Honey, I'm out of touch. I'm fucking old, you said it yourself! I don't know how to - hey, buddy, do you fucking mind?" The hand under your shirt loses its grip on you as Joel shoves the shoulder of the guy behind you. Suddenly his body unglues itself from your back.

"My bad, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend," he shouts over the music as he disappears back into the crowd. You groan and roll your eyes.

"So sorry, Joel! Turns out when you look and act like my boyfriend, people think you really are! How embarrassing for you," you ramble into Joel's ear. You turn to walk off the dance floor, embarrassed, but before you're out of his reach Joel grabs your forearm, pulling gently until you're flush with his body. He towers over you, his eyes bore into yours.

"Please listen," he bends to speak quietly into your ear, "I'm sorry, and I mean it. We're friends, and I value that. I thought I was bantering, bein' funny. I know you don't want to be a couple at this bar. I know you want to be friends, nothing more, with me. But…" he trails off, pulling away to look at your face.

The atmosphere changes in a way that you swear is straight out of a movie. The lights pulsing and flashing are hitting Joel's face in a way that makes him even more handsome, which you'd thought previously impossible. While your beer bottle is empty, clutched into your hand that hangs limply at your side, Joel's drink is nearly full, still frosty, and dripping condensation through your shirt, soaking your lower back. Joel's eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do or say anything. 

And then the dj changes the song. You are… intimately familiar with what begins to play and you shake your head, chuckling. What divine intervention drove the dj to start playing a song about ruining a friendship at this very moment? You have no idea, but you make a mental note to thank the universe as you smile at Joel. You push away from him for just a second, long enough to rip the label off your empty beer bottle. Joel looks confused watching you ball up the damp paper. 

You chuckle as you toss the label at Joel, it pinging off his temple before you spin your body so your back is plastered against Joel's front. 

You'll show him sexually frustrated.

Joel seems to take a second to read the situation because his body doesn't move. In fact, it goes rigid. Your hips sway against him anyway. Joel only breaks out of his spell when your arm snakes around his neck and you bury your fingers in his hair. Tugging gently on his curls seems to awaken something in him and his hands are on you in seconds. The hand clutching his beer comes to rest on your hip as the other picks up where your previous dance partner left off, creeping under your shirt and splaying across your stomach. 

"What are we doin' here, baby?" Joel rasps into your ear, his voice deeper and more strained than you're used to. "I guess I deserve you teasin' me, but two can play this game." Joel's nose prods at a spot behind your ear as he peels one cup of your bra away from your body, replacing it with his hand. Your eyes fly open to ensure no one notices, but everyone on the dance floor is busy paying attention to their own partners. Joel rolls your nipple between two fingers before giving it a flick; you try and suppress a moan.

Not to be outdone, you reach for the beer bottle in Joel's hand. You make sure Joel's eyes are locked on you as you lick a stripe up the neck of the bottle, taking a generous sip before handing it back. Joel's eyes widen and he smirks, bringing his mouth back to your ear.

"Think it goes without sayin' now, but I really don't hate the idea of people thinking you're mine," Joel accentuates his last word with a gentle nip at your earlobe that makes your head loll back onto his shoulder. 

"Are you listening to the song, Joel?" You reach up to place your hand on Joel's cheek, turning his face gently so your eyes meet.  He looks confused, but you can tell he's training his ear onto the chorus of what's playing.

I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend

Joel lowers his eyes back down to meet yours and smirks. "You an' me both, darlin'." His hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer and you feel him grow hard against your ass. 

"Know where I last heard this song?" The final notes start to dissipate, melding seamlessly with the next song. Joel shakes his head and asks where. You smirk, nuzzling into Joel's neck before you lick a stripe up to his ear. "It's on my sex playlist."

Joel stills. You grin, giggling as he pushes you away gently. "I've gotta close out the tab," he says once he remembers how to form thoughts into words. "Meet me at the truck. And think about what song you're gonna put on once I get you home."

[awakeningthevioletswithin]

I need to make sales every day this week to have any chance of not getting evicted.

Please buy some art!!!

I'm out of ways to plead my case. I need fans of my art to buy it, so I can keep making it. You don't have to pay all at once. I've always offered installments. I'll take donations I just have to placate my landlord with money.

Immediately!!!

Venmo-Kate-Havekost

Paypal-havekatart@gmail.com

Sales this week

Sunday-0

Monday-2

Tuesday-???

[killbenedictcumberbatchagain]

i have literally been avoiding making this post for weeks because it's humiliating and a lot to process

in case people needed a visual for my situation this is what my mother's house looks like and this is what I'm forced to live in. it's a fire hazard and affects my asthma. Also, it's anxiety inducing and sends my depression into a dark and deep place that gets harder and harder to crawl out of and I'm trying to find an escape as often as possible. Plus, we've suffered from a roach infestation for literally almost 2 decades. I've been ideating for weeks and my psychological state has been deteriorating

every attempt I've made to get back to Philly has failed because I haven't raised a lot at all. even with my temp job most of it immediately went to bills and the cost of food on the go and transportation has gutted me

I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE FOR MY SAFETY. THERE IS SO MUCH TRAUMA WITHIN THESE WALLS. I can't be the one to help my mom with her problems, she refuses it. I need so desperately to find help and be around healthier people! this is killing me!

I know the help is there! I'm showing something so raw, so damning because I am at the fucking end of my rope! I don't have a bed to sleep on! my mental state is fragile and unstable and I'm an emotional wreck. no amount of talk therapy and mindfulness can help this, I NEED TO LEAVE

cash.me/$tomi1

venmo: tominova

paypal.me/tominova

https://gofund.me/c03616ff

[kurgy]

sorry for remaking this post and sorry its a little longer, but once they die they are dead, and with the ongoing social security cuts/mass firings, ssi and disability payment schedules becoming inconsistent right before my eyes as something i need to survive as a disabled person, im really really not doing well financially, im simultaneously making the most money i ever have while also being the poorest ive ever been, and my additional income options have shrunk with chronic illness, im just genuinely at a loss

im finishing off my remaining comms, but with some serious health complications from disability, i regrettably cannot take on more for the foreseeable future, it is killing me. i have always had some health problems but i developed a kind of chronic gi issue in my teens that manifested as frequent stomach abdominal pain/discomfort, acid reflux, stomach ulcers, some other gi issues, and near constant intense nausea and vomiting, which 90% the time forces me into my bathroom from anywhere to an hour to several to be physically ill. after a decade of this, the constant vomiting has wrecked my digestive system and practically ruined my teeth, and most recently i suffered what i thought was a flare up that has now lasted well over month, its now my new normal, which is seriously fucking me up and impeding my ability to do ANYTHING so much worse than it ever has before. my ability to work, do chores, leave my apartment, do hobbies, draw or write or read for leisure, or do any patreon work has come to a screeching halt. i cant even play a video game without having to immediately stop and go be sick, and every time now i have tried to just draw and work through it, but the feeling disorientation and nausea makes it impossible for longer than a couple hours, its not even a lack of focus, its like brain fog? to the point that my sight just blurs and blobs i get confused and have to try and force myself to refocus only to see all the absolute nonsense random lines i was aimlessly making on the canvas

my rent is due on the 1st, and even before elon musk my disability pay is only $947, while my average rent is $1010 - $1025, this has become harder to cover now that i am frequently sick and trapped in my bathroom, and cant cover it doing doodles or odd jobs for family/friends like usual. im short $132 on rent and my next bill, also due on the first. i can cover my actual rent, but with my landlords "smart home fee", "service fee", and their service fee to just pay rent, im low. i cant really offer much atm, but i would deeply appreciate any help trying to cover bills, especially while im declining, please

Paypal.me/kurgyy

venmo @ kurgy

cashapp $kurgyyy

[cutecipher]

Hi so rent was covered half by someone I need to pay back as soon as possible or potentially risk losing future support from (complicated and too private to get into) so I need to raise $770! Im a disabled trans woman very close to being self sufficient.

Cashapp: $cmder

Venmo: agief

Paypal: https://paypal.me/agieocean

$1000.38/$1070 raised almost there!

Ty for reading and helping if you can!

Addition: Really scary I was supposed to get on insurance very soon but I need to cover another 300$ (they previously charged me as well) so I can actually get on it and Im out of narcolepsy med refills which means ill barely be able to function for a bit let alone commute for work so I need to talk to a doctor to get back on asap so i dont like immediately lose my job

Sorry again

[amyzworldds]

omg we need a part two to a tale of unsaid love PLS

Part Two: A Tale of Unsaid Love

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Vernon’s return from tour pulls Y/N into a whirlwind of messages, gifts, and a reunion that blurs the lines between friendship and something deeper, stirring feelings she’s long suppressed. Pairing: Vernon x reader Genre: Fluff, lil bit of angst, slice of life

Y/N’s phone buzzed against her desk for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She glanced at it warily, already knowing who it was. Vernon. The guy hadn’t stopped texting since he woke up—probably still sprawled on that hotel bed when he sent the first one: “Up now. Tour’s officially done. Feels weird.” Then, five minutes later: “At the airport now. Security’s slow af.” And every few minutes after that, like he was narrating his entire existence: “Boarding. Plane smells like stale coffee.” “Window seat, but the view’s just clouds. Lame.”

She was at work, buried in emails and pretending to care about spreadsheets, so she couldn’t respond much beyond a quick “Cool, safe flight” earlier. Now, as her break time finally rolled around, she unlocked her phone and nearly dropped it. Twenty-seven messages. Twenty-seven. All from Vernon, timestamped down to the minute. She scrolled through, half-amused, half-horrified.

“Flight’s delayed by 10 mins. Annoying.” “They’re handing out snacks. Took the pretzels.” “Just took off. Turbulence already. Pray for me.” “Landed. Korea, baby. Missed this place.” “Baggage claim. My suitcase is taking forever.”

The list went on, a play-by-play of his morning like he was live-tweeting his life just for her. She was about to type a sarcastic “Do you ever stop?” when a little bubble popped up—three dots. He was typing again. Before she could brace herself, the message pinged through: “Oh you already seen my messages time to facetime me. FASTER.”

She stared at it, blinking. “Demanding little—” she muttered under her breath, sighing as she hit the call button. The screen barely had time to load before Vernon’s face filled it, his hoodie pulled low over his eyes, a grin splitting his face. He was in an airport lounge or something, the background blurry with people dragging suitcases.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, leaning closer to the camera. “What took you so long? I’ve been dying over here.”

“I’m at work, Vernon,” she said, keeping her voice low so her coworkers wouldn’t overhear. “Some of us have jobs that don’t involve screaming fans and private jets.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You should’ve taken the day off. I’m back in Korea now! You didn’t even ditch for me. Rude.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in the break room chair. “I can’t just skip work because you’re back. I have bills. Responsibilities. Adult stuff.”

“Adult stuff’s overrated,” he grumbled, slumping in his seat. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and you’re not here. What’s the point of coming home if you’re not waiting at my apartment with food?”

She snorted. “What am I, your personal chef now?”

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “Come over. Cook for me. I’ll pay you. Name your price—just ditch work and get over here.”

“Vernon, no,” she said, though a laugh slipped out despite herself. “I’m not quitting my job to make you ramen.”

“I’ll order the ingredients,” he pressed, undeterred. “And a cab. And I’ll Venmo you double your paycheck. Triple. Whatever it takes. I haven’t seen you in forever, and you’re out here acting like you don’t even miss me.”

“I do miss you,” she said before she could stop herself, then immediately regretted it when his eyes lit up.

“See? You do miss me! So leave early. Sneak out. Say you’re sick—cough a little, sell it. Your boss won’t care.”

“My boss would fire me,” she shot back, though she was grinning now. “You’re such a bad influence.”

“I’m the best influence,” he corrected, leaning so close to the camera she could see the faint shadows under his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. I’m jet-lagged, I’m starving, and I just survived a world tour. Don’t I deserve a welcome home meal from my best friend?”

She groaned, rubbing her temple. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he said, smirking. “Seriously, though. Ditch. I’ll handle everything.”

Before she could argue again, a voice cut through the break room—her boss, poking his head in. “Hey, everyone, good news. System’s down for maintenance, so we’re cutting the day short. You can all head out after lunch.”

Y/N froze, her jaw dropping slightly. Vernon caught it instantly, his eyes widening before he let out a triumphant “Yes!” so loud it echoed through the phone. Heads turned—her coworkers glancing over with raised brows—and she sank lower in her chair, mortified.

“Vernon, shut up!” she hissed, covering her face.

“Did you hear that? You’re free!” he crowed, practically bouncing in his seat. “That’s fate, Y/N. The universe wants you to come to my place. I’m booking your cab right now.”

“Vernon, I didn’t even say—” she started, but he was already tapping away at his phone, ignoring her protests.

“Done,” he said, looking up with a grin. “ETA 10 minutes. Get your stuff and go outside. I’m texting you the details.”

She stared at him, torn between laughing and screaming. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome,” he said, winking. “Bring your cooking energy. I want something good—none of that instant ramen crap. Real food. I’ve been living off plane meals and protein bars.”

“You’re so spoiled,” she muttered, but she was already standing, grabbing her bag from under the table. Her coworkers were chattering about their unexpected half-day, oblivious to the chaos Vernon was causing in her life. “Fine. But you’re doing the dishes.”

“Deal,” he said instantly. “Just get here. I’m starving, and I need my Y/N fix.”

She sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “You’re lucky I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t,” he said confidently, his voice softening. “See you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, quieter now, her heart doing that familiar, painful twist. “See you.”

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

Y/N fumbled with the spare key Vernon had given her ages ago—“Just in case,” he’d said with that casual shrug of his, like it was no big deal to hand over access to his life. The cab dropped her off in front of his apartment building, and her phone was still buzzing in her hand, Vernon’s sleepy voice droning on through the call he refused to end. She’d tried—“Vernon, I’m here, I’ll see you soon, go nap or something”—but he’d just mumbled, “Nah, stay on. I’m almost there. Keep me company.”

Now, as she pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of his place hit her—faint traces of his cologne mixed with that clean, minimalist vibe he somehow maintained despite his chaos. The call crackled slightly as he shifted on his end, probably still sprawled in the back of his own cab. “You in yet?” he asked, voice thick with exhaustion.

“Yeah,” she said, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag by the door. “It’s weird being here without you. Feels like I’m breaking in.”

He chuckled, low and lazy. “You’ve got the key, dummy. It’s your place too, kinda.”

Her heart stuttered at that, but she brushed it off, heading for the kitchen. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll regret it when I start redecorating.”

“Do it,” he said, unfazed. “Put up some of those weird cat posters you like. I’d live with it.”

She rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see, and glanced at the counter. True to his word, a delivery bag sat there—groceries he’d ordered while whining about being hungry. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unpacking the haul: fresh veggies, rice, some beef, soy sauce. “You really expect me to cook while you’re just… what, napping?”

“Pretty much,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “You’re the best, Y/N. I’m, like, five minutes out. Maybe ten. Don’t hang up.”

“I’m hanging up,” she threatened, already rinsing the rice.

“No, you’re not,” he said confidently, and damn it, he was right. She didn’t.

So there she was, phone propped on the counter, Vernon’s soft breathing filling the silence as she chopped vegetables and stir-fried beef. He’d gone quiet—probably dozed off again—and she let him, the rhythm of cooking soothing her frayed nerves. Every so often, he’d stir, mutter something incoherent like, “Smells good already,” and she’d scoff, “You can’t smell it through the phone, weirdo.”

By the time the food was done—beef stir-fry with rice and a side of steamed broccoli—she heard him perk up. “Okay, I’m close. Pulling into the building now. Don’t eat without me.”

“Too late,” she teased, plating the food. “It’s all gone.”

“Liar,” he said, and then, after a pause, “Alright, I’m here. Gotta hang up—luggage and stuff. See you in a sec.”

The call finally ended, and she exhaled, setting her phone down. The sudden quiet felt strange after hours of his voice in her ear. She grabbed a soda from his fridge, plopped onto the couch, and flicked on the TV, picking some random movie she’d seen a dozen times. Her eyes kept drifting to the door, though, waiting. She could still hear his tired drawl from earlier, see the way his face had softened on the screen. He was running on fumes, and yet he’d spent all day tethered to her.

The doorbell rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. She frowned, hauling herself up. “Seriously?” she muttered, trudging over. “You’ve got a key, Vernon.”

She swung the door open, ready to complain—“Why are you ringing your own doorbell like some delivery guy?”—but the words died in her throat. Vernon stood there, luggage at his feet, looking like he’d been through a warzone and back. His hoodie was rumpled, his hair a mess, and his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Before she could say anything, he stepped forward and crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that knocked the air out of her lungs.

“Missed you,” he mumbled into her shoulder, his voice muffled and warm.

Her heart leapt into her throat, hammering so loud she was sure he’d hear it. She stood there, frozen, arms hovering awkwardly before settling around him. He smelled like airplane and sweat and him, and it was too much—too close, too real. She wanted to shove him off, tell him to stop making this so hard, but instead she just… stayed. His weight leaned into her, solid and grounding, and for a second, she let herself sink into it.

“Vernon,” she managed, voice tight. “You’re crushing me.”

He pulled back just enough to grin at her, that lopsided, boyish smile that wrecked her every time. “Good. You deserve it for not ditching work sooner.” Then, like it was nothing, he let go, brushed past her, and made a beeline for the kitchen. “Oh my God, it smells amazing in here. You’re a legend.”

She stood there, still by the door, staring at his luggage like it held the answers she didn’t have. Her chest ached—sharp and twisting, like she’d been rolling on needles, just as she’d feared. That hug, his voice, the way he’d clung to her like she was his anchor—it wasn’t helping. It was fuel, piling onto the fire she’d been trying to smother for years. She pressed a hand to her sternum, willing her heart to calm down, but it wouldn’t listen.

“Y/N!” Vernon’s voice snapped her back, calling from the kitchen. “You gonna stand there all day or come eat with me? I’m starving, and I’m not waiting.”

She shook her head, forcing her feet to move. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she said, closing the door behind her. He was already at the counter, piling food onto a plate, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. Normal. So painfully normal.

“You didn’t burn down my kitchen, so I’d say this is a win,” he said, glancing up with a smirk. “Sit. Eat. Tell me I’m the best for making you come over.”

“You’re the worst,” she shot back, sliding onto a stool across from him. “I should’ve stayed at work.”

“Lies,” he said through a mouthful of stir-fry. “You love me.”

She froze mid-bite, her chopsticks hovering. He didn’t notice, too busy shoveling food and rambling about the tour, but her mind spun. You love me. He’d said it so easily, like a throwaway line, but it hit her like a freight train. She did. She loved him—too much, too deep—and every second with him was another needle under her skin, pricking at the hope she kept trying to bury.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You’re zoning out.”

“Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired. Long day.”

He nodded, accepting it, and went back to eating. Normal. Always normal. And she hated how much she craved it—how much she craved him.

“Next time,” he said between bites, “you’re taking the day off. No excuses. I’m not surviving another tour without you waiting here when I get back.”

She laughed, weak and shaky, and nodded. “Sure, Vernon.”

But inside, she was screaming. Stop giving me reasons to fall harder. Stop making me love you more. Because every hug, every call, every stupid grin was another thread tying her to him—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever break free.

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

The clatter of dishes in the sink was oddly grounding, a small slice of normalcy after the whirlwind of Vernon’s arrival. Y/N lingered at the counter, picking at the last bits of stir-fry on her plate while Vernon scrubbed away, humming some tune she vaguely recognized from one of his setlists. True to his word, he’d taken dish duty without complaint, sleeves rolled up and soap suds clinging to his hands. It was domestic, almost too much so, and she had to look away before her mind ran wild again.

“Done,” he announced, shaking water off his fingers and wiping them on a towel. “See? I’m not totally useless.”

“Debatable,” she shot back, sliding her plate toward him with a smirk. “You missed a spot.”

He rolled his eyes but took it anyway, giving it a quick rinse. She used the moment to escape the kitchen, dragging his luggage from the doorstep where it still sat, abandoned after his dramatic entrance. It was heavier than she expected—probably stuffed with tour chaos—and she tugged it into the living room, parking it near the couch before flopping down with a huff.

The TV flickered back to life as she hit play on the movie, some mindless action flick she’d picked to drown out the noise in her head. Her pulse was still racing from that hug—his arms around her, his warmth, the way he’d just held her like it was the most natural thing in the world. She pulled a throw blanket over her lap, clutching it like a shield, and tried to focus on the screen. Explosions. Car chases. Anything but the fact that Vernon was still here, still close, still making her heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Hey, you didn’t have to move that,” Vernon said, strolling in from the kitchen. He spotted his suitcase and grinned, grabbing the handle and pulling it right in front of her. “Perfect timing, though. I’ve got stuff to show you.”

She raised an eyebrow, sinking deeper into the couch. “Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff,” he said, plopping onto the floor and unzipping the bag with a flourish. “Tour spoils. Check it out.”

Her breath caught as he started unloading a chaotic pile of treasures, his hands moving with the same easy confidence he always had. First came a tiny ceramic cat from Japan, white with a goofy grin. “Saw this in Osaka,” he said, holding it up. “Reminded me of that time you tried to adopt that stray in high school. You cried when it scratched you.”

“I didn’t cry,” she protested, though her cheeks warmed. “I was just… mad.”

“Sure,” he teased, setting the cat on the coffee table. Next was a keychain from Paris, a miniature Eiffel Tower with a little beret on top. “This was just funny. You’d hate how tacky it is, but I had to get it.”

She snorted, reaching for it. “It’s hideous. You’re right.”

“Told you,” he said, digging deeper. A snow globe from New York, a glittery mess of skyscrapers. “Thought of you when it snowed there. You’d love the chaos.” A woven bracelet from Thailand, bright orange and green. “This was cheap, but it’s your vibe—loud.” A pack of candy from London, some weird sour thing he swore she’d like. “You’d eat these ‘til your tongue hurts.”

Item after item, he laid them out like a map of his tour, each one tied to her in some small, stupid, perfect way. He grinned the whole time, proud and oblivious, like it was no big deal that he’d spent months collecting pieces of her in every city. “And this,” he said, pulling out a tiny plush octopus from Seoul, “I got today at the airport. It’s got your grumpy face when I call too early.”

She stared at the pile, her throat tight. “Vernon… you got all this for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was obvious. “Every stop, I’d see something and think, ‘Y/N would laugh at this,’ or ‘She’d hate it, so I have to get it.’ Kept me sane on the road.”

Her heart was screaming, pounding so loud she was sure he’d hear it over the movie’s gunfire. She clutched the octopus, its little stitched frown mocking her, and tried to breathe. This wasn’t normal—not the way he made it seem. Friends didn’t do this, didn’t scour the world for trinkets because they couldn’t stop thinking about each other. Did they? She wanted to ask, to demand what it meant, but the words stuck, trapped behind years of pretending.

“You didn’t have to,” she managed, voice smaller than she meant it to be.

“I wanted to,” he said simply, leaning back on his hands. “You’re my person, Y/N. Gotta bring you something back, right?”

My person. The words landed like a punch, soft and devastating. She forced a laugh, shoving the plush octopus onto the table with the rest. “You’re so weird,” she said, turning back to the TV, praying he wouldn’t notice how her hands shook.

“Says the weirdo who named a random cat Shadow,” he shot back, nudging her knee with his foot. “You keeping all this, or what?”

“Of course I’m keeping it,” she said, too fast, then caught herself. “I mean… it’s free stuff. Who says no to that?”

He laughed, satisfied, and hauled himself onto the couch beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Good. Now tell me this movie’s plot, ‘cause I’m lost.”

She swallowed hard, hyper-aware of every inch between them—or lack of it. “Uh… guy’s mad, stuff explodes, car chase. That’s it.”

“Classic,” he said, settling in, oblivious to the storm raging inside her.

She stared at the screen, the chaos blurring into nothing. Her mind was on the pile of gifts, the way he’d smiled as he handed them over, the hug still lingering on her skin. He wasn’t helping—not one bit. Every move he made, every word, was another thread pulling her under, deeper into a love she couldn’t escape. She cursed her heart for hoping, for twisting this into something it wasn’t. He was just Vernon. Her best friend. That was all.

But as he laughed at some dumb explosion on screen, leaning into her just a little more, she felt the needles again—sharp, relentless, and oh-so-sweet. And she hated how much she didn’t hate it.

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

The movie droned on, explosions and one-liners fading into white noise as Y/N’s mind spun circles around itself. Vernon’s pile of gifts sat on the coffee table, a quiet testament to how much space she took up in his world—a space she wasn’t sure she was allowed to claim. She barely registered the plot, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket in her lap, when Vernon stretched and stood up.

“Gonna change,” he said, yawning as he shuffled toward his room. “These jeans are killing me.”

She nodded absently, eyes fixed on the screen but seeing nothing. “Yeah, sure.”

He disappeared down the hall, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The room felt bigger without him in it, less suffocating, but it didn’t stop the ache in her chest. She tried to focus—car chase, bad guy yelling, something about a bomb—but her thoughts kept drifting back to that hug, his voice, the way he’d said “You’re my person” like it was the simplest truth in the world.

A few minutes later, Vernon reappeared, barefoot and drowning in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape. He looked softer like this, less like the untouchable star she’d watched grow bigger than life, more like the boy she’d known forever. He didn’t say anything, just flopped onto the couch beside her and, without warning, dropped his head into her lap.

“Vernon—” she started, voice catching, but he was already settling in, curling up like a cat claiming its spot.

“Comfy,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t move.”

Her hands hovered awkwardly above him, unsure where to land. His hair spilled across her thighs, messy and still a little damp, and she could feel the warmth of him seeping through her jeans. She stared down at him, her breath shallow, and realized he was already out—lips parted, breathing slow and steady. Asleep. Just like that.

The movie flickered on, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears. He was so close—too close—and she was trapped under the weight of him, both literal and not. She sat there for a while, rigid, letting the moment stretch until her legs started to tingle. Carefully, she slid out from under him, easing his head onto a throw pillow with all the precision of defusing a bomb. He didn’t stir, just nuzzled deeper into the cushion, and she let herself smile despite everything.

She stood, tiptoeing around the room to dim the lights. The TV went off with a soft click, and she pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the late afternoon sun that threatened to creep in. Vernon deserved the rest—he’d been running on fumes for weeks—and she’d give him that, even if her heart was a mess because of it.

Blanket still clutched in her hands, she turned back to him. He looked peaceful sprawled out on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, the other tucked against his chest. She stepped closer, draping the blanket over him, tucking it up to his shoulders. Her fingers brushed his collarbone by accident, and she froze, but he didn’t move. Just slept, oblivious to the war inside her.

She straightened, ready to grab her bag and slip out—let him crash in peace, figure out her feelings somewhere else. But as she turned, a hand shot out, catching her wrist. She gasped, stumbling, and before she could catch her balance, Vernon tugged her down. She landed against his chest with a soft thud, her hands splaying against his hoodie as his arms wrapped around her, loose but firm.

“Stay,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, eyes still closed. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, so loud she was sure it’d wake him. “Vernon—” she whispered, but he just hugged her tighter, his cheek pressing into her hair.

“Shh,” he slurred, already drifting back under. “Later.”

She lay there, half-sprawled across him, her mind a tangle of panic and something softer, warmer. His breathing evened out again, deep and slow, and his grip slackened but didn’t let go. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, steady and maddening, and her own pulse raced to match it. Talk later? About what? The questions clawed at her—why not now? What did he mean?—but his warmth was pulling her under, lulling her despite herself.

She should’ve gotten up. Should’ve pried herself free and bolted out the door, given herself space to breathe, to think. But she didn’t. She stayed, her cheek resting against his chest, the blanket tangled between them. His scent—faint cologne and laundry detergent—wrapped around her, and she hated how much she didn’t hate it. How much she wanted to sink into this, let herself believe it was more than it was.

Her eyes drifted shut, exhaustion tugging at her edges. Just for a minute, she told herself. Just until she could figure out how to untangle this mess in her heart. But as she hovered on the edge of sleep, Vernon’s arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she felt those needles again—sharp, relentless, and piercingly sweet.

What were they going to talk about? And why did it feel like everything was about to change?