#cost i cannot afford if i even ever did find someone

[rizsu]

cashier's revenge gojo satoru.

sum. annoying ex!gojo gets his lick back. not beta read !

satoru's existence itself is a warning. is it a harzardous warning? not quite, but it's also not a good one. at this very moment, at this very precised second, gojo satoru is contemplating the consequences of clocking out of work before his shift is up. in his eyes, if it's executed properly, it can work. the only downside would be the possibility of getting fired.

he cannot afford such a tragedy. being a man in today's day and age comes at an expensive cost. one day satoru promises to find AND deliver punishment to whoever created the "men are the breadwinners." motion. he suffers from society's insane capitalism and boy might he just dive into hell. head first, even. perhaps even toes first, if he's feeling special.

satoru's current employment stems from two reasons. not one, not three, but two:

1. his urge to prove that he can be better off without you.

2. getō suguru, someone's that's just as bad as he is, told him he had the chance to do the funniest thing ever.

now, don't mistake him! gojo satoru is not easily influenced ( he is. ) he knows right from wrong ( sometimes. )

prior to him signing up as a cashier, your break-up was mutual. he agreed to let you go and you agreed that you weren't committed to being in a full relationship yet. on his vision, he hated that he had to let you go; his attachment grew and he couldn't go two days without bothering you.

it would've disgusted satoru if he made you stay with him but god he wished you would've done so.

bored and bothered, satoru fiddles with his fingers, unable to find entertainment elsewhere due to his phone's low battery warning.

"if no one enters in the next five minutes maybe i can — fuck," feeling his right eye twitch, satoru exhales a deep sigh. not only did someone enter but that unlucky customer happened to be you, y/n l/n.

his eyes following your body, praying that you magically decided to no longer buy anything. unfortunately for him, he cannot get everything he wants in life. watching you make your way to his position, he chants a line of curses before going into automatic-customer-service mode.

"hi," satoru begins, forcing his sunshine-like smile, "what would you have today? any menu specials?"

"hello! i'd like to have a — oh my god it's you.." stopping mid-sentence, you clutch the strap of your handbag. the odds weren't one hundred but they definitely weren't zero.

'am i a curse or what?' gojo thinks. your expressions most certainly didn't bypass his radar. setting his offense aside, he continues, "i'm sorry, we don't have an "oh my god it's you" on the menu!"

"sorry, i'll have the daily special," counting the money needed, you wait for him to finish his cashier duties.

"that'll be ten dollars and ninety-nine cents," satoru says, raising his hand to collect the money. for some rather peculiar reason, it seems as though a twenty dollar bill is stuck on its owner's hand.

"miss, please let go of the bill."

"whatever do you mean?"

scoffing, satoru yanks the bill out of your hand. he watches as you twist your face into disgust and shake your hand off. he's sorry, really, but he has to put himself first at times.

—

although satoru was set on escaping early, he now has a reason to stay longer. going out of his way to deliver your meal, satoru sits in front of you. he has the plot and the platform.

"here's your meal, bill, and change," sliding everything to you, he sits with folded arms. this position means business. formal business.

"thank you — but what are you doing there?" you question him, squinting your eyes at his choice of movement.

"don't question me. how have you been though?"

pulling out your fries, you tilt them to his direction, offering them to him. "i've been wonderful, you?"

"my life has been fine. i've recovered ever since you broke up with me," taking a single fry, he shakes his head as he munches.

"that's crazy but why're you even here?" you couldn't contain your curiosity.

"ever since you broke my heart, i needed to get my life back." gojo takes two fries this time, munching them in sadness.

"ah, i see." you reply.

"it's amazing that you can see ever since you broke up with—"

"do NOT finish that sentence." glaring at satoru, you shut down his pity party. whatever he has going on needs to stop.

"you stop me from doing stuff the same way you stopped my heart ever since you —" satoru tries to finish but was met with a burger being shoved in his mouth.

smiling to himself, he compliments himself as he managed to annoy you. satoru can only thank the gods that you don't despise him. even if you do then that's a problem for someone else.

on your side, you're regretting handing over your burger to him. you were sure that breaking up with him will cause a broken heart but it seems like someone's doing fine. taking a sip from your drink, you look at satoru who's happily eating your food. 'he looks cute' you think.

"satoru," you speak up, redirecting his attention from the burger and onto you.

"hm?" he hums, wiping away the sauces on his face.

inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare before asking him, "wanna come over tonight?"

satoru's mouth shaped like an 'O', he thinks for a while before agreeing, "i'd love to — especially after you broke up with me."

"i swear i will kill you, satoru."

[topazadine]

How I Am Kicking Agoraphobia's Ass

With a little help from Horse, of course

I have struggled with agoraphobia since 2017, when I was sexually assaulted. This is a common cause of agoraphobia, and it is more likely to develop in people who have CPTSD (ding ding guess who).

Anyway, I got so fucking sick of people telling me to "just go outside" as if it's so easy-peasy. Maybe for someone without agoraphobia, it feels seamless to stroll out to your car, but it's not so simple when your brain tells you that Bad Things happen when you leave the house. What are those Bad Things? idk, brain never told me. Just Bad Things.

I organized my life around my agoraphobia for many years; it's the reason I have a remote job. And the "just go outside" advice never, ever helped. The best I could do was leave the house with an Emotional Support Human (or dog), but rarely, if ever, alone.

Now I'm leaving the house at least four times a week! Voluntarily! ALONE! Without getting scared!

And sometimes I even spontaneously decide to leave the house and go to big events where there are dozens of people. Just because I feel like it.

This is momentous. If you have agoraphobia, you know how intense that is.

So what did I do? What can you do?

It's actually so simple and I have no idea why no one told me to do this years ago.

Schedule a regular event that is so exciting that you simply cannot afford to miss it.

Something you care about. Something that's so insanely tempting that you would walk over hot coals to do it. Think about something you used to care about before you became housebound, or something you've always wanted to try. For me, it was (and still is) horseback riding.

But! It must meet these conditions:

It has to happen on a regular basis at a scheduled time. Say, 6 pm every Friday. If it's just "whenever" or "once every few months," you probably won't agree to go to it every time.

There has to be a cost to missing it so your Sunk Cost Theory is triggered. Ideally, there will be multiple costs: that could be disappointing someone who has agreed to go with you every time, and that you have already prepaid for it so you'd lose money.

It has to be something that makes you happy and is just for you, not an obligation. So, therapy doesn't count. Going to the gym also doesn't count if you feel like you have to do it for social reasons or health reasons.

If you want to make this an ironclad thing, it should ideally meet these conditions too:

You learn something while there, which develops a sense of efficacy and confidence.

It's a social activity where you will make friends.

It is a physical activity that releases endorphins. (Again, pick something fun, not just going to the gym if it's not fun for you.)

There are no costs to failing. If I screw up at horseback riding or rock climbing, I'm not going to miss out on a promotion or whatever. I might be mad at myself, but I don't really lose anything by not doing it.

It has an indefinite end date; ie, this is something you could theoretically do every week forever if you want to. So if it's a class you want to take, make sure it's one where you can sign up for more classes if you feel like it.

So how do you find your thing??

Think back to a time before you suffered from agoraphobia. Might be hard if you've struggled with it for most of your life, but you might have glimmers of what you liked before.

What did you enjoy doing, or what did you want to do but couldn't? For me, I got to horseback ride as a little kid but then had to stop for money reasons. Now I can afford to do it because I'm an adult with my own adult money.

Find classes or groups in your area that cater to Thing. If they don't exist or are out of your budget, go back to the drawing board and workshop a new Thing.

Sign up for the class ahead of time. Pick a time that is within the next two weeks but preferably within the next week so you have time to prepare yourself.

If it's a paid class, pay your deposit before you get there.

Tell people you are going - as many people as you can. Now you have social and financial pressure that will make you commit.

Now, the most important part.

Research the particular place you will be going during the time between when you sign up and when you go. Learn what to expect when you get there.

Read reviews. Look at pictures online. Analyze the Google Street View. Practice driving or walking there with directions.

If you're trying a new activity, read up on it. Get beginner tips for what to expect in your first session. Watch videos of other people doing it, and read other peoples' experiences trying it out. Visualize what it will feel like to be there and what you will be doing.

This is mental rehearsal and it makes it less scary to actually step into the place for the first time. You will feel more confident when you arrive because you know what you are doing, where you are going, and what to expect as soon as you arrive.

The climbing gym I go to had a "What to Expect On Your First Visit" page that helped me a lot, and then I watched a lot of rock climbing videos and learned about the techniques so I wouldn't feel stupid. I even looked up what climbing shoes look like and how harnesses feel so I wasn't scared when I put them on.

I can't promise it will help you, but I encourage you to give it a try.

Having something to look forward on a regular basis will make it less and less scary to leave the house because, after a while, you won't even think about how unnerving the transition from Safe Space to Unsafe Space is. More and more places will become Safe, and less places will become Unsafe (within reason).

The route you take will become familiar, as will what to expect when you get there. You'll be able to practice and perfect the technique of psyching yourself up to leave home until you no longer need to; it becomes automatic.

And, most importantly, you'll see that your home isn't the only place in the world where you can exist comfortably. Everything's out there waiting for you, and you deserve to be there, too!

[devsgames]

Video Games Should Probably Cost More

Okay, I'm sick of people saying "video games should be cheaper!" without really understanding the effect that has or why devs are arguing that video game prices are relatively cheap to begin with. I'd like to present my Hot Take: Buying a modern video game should in practice be way more expensive than it is, and the reason it isn't is directly due to the exploitation of labour under capitalism.

To start, folks need to understand that basically the only way modern video games can afford to be made at the scope and quality they are is by exploiting the people making them.

Realistically with the size, scope and budget most productions are operating on, most games these days simply cannot afford to be made in a way that compensates their workers fairly. They're simply too large and the margins - even though substantial in some cases - often simply aren't there.

To get around this, studios exploit their workforce to cut costs as much as possible, which in turn also enables them to cut down the price of games ("passing the savings on to you!!!"). Outsourcers in the Global South fight for their studios to take on contracts for the lowest pay, devs are carroted along on temp positions without benefits or financial security instead of permanent ones with benefits, undercutting QA departments to the point they can't afford to live in the same city they work in, incredibly low starting wages for developers starting in the industry, crunch culture...the list of how this ripples through ever part of the industry goes on.

I've also seen people say "Oh well indies are fine, I don't think THEY should make less money :)" and while the sentiment is nice the devaluation of game labour 100% applies to indies, possibly even moreso: Players have directly told me before that "indie games shouldn't cost more than $10" (!!!) or "your $5 game you put 1000+ hours of labour into and see only 70% profit returns of and hasn't broke even costs too much" (?!?). These preconceived ideas of how much a game 'should be worth' isn't coming from a void; games across the spectrum, and the labour put into them, are INSANELY devalued both indie and AAA alike. The 'indies get out of jail free card' is pretty moot when it comes to the culture of what most players perceive the value and labour that going into a game. Additionally it's always worth noting that because someone is indie doesn't mean they haven't found a way to exploit their workforce - they're not mutually exclusive concepts, and I've arguably seen more exploitative practices in indie spaces than AAA ones.

Obviously the concept of 'minimum pay maximum profit' is not unique to video games and is a general Capitalism problem, but know if studios did magically decide to charge less for games (and let's be real, they won't) it would come at the cost of having found more people to exploit more effectively. They'd find some shmucks who would make their games dirt cheap for them, open a new studio in a poor exploitable country, or even scrape pay off of their workforce. It's similar to when you buy a cheaper product at the supermarket - did the store selling it to you graciously decide they didn't want to earn as much of a profit? No, the probably just found someone who exploited their workforce more efficiently to give them better margins.

Do I think people should have to pay an arm and a leg for an entertainment product? Absolutely not, but I hope at a baseline the people who make arguments for paying less for games realize how prohibitively expensive they are to produce in the first place, and how simply "making them cheaper" would have knock on effects to how they're made.

Am I saying that if game prices increased that all these undercut devs would magically get paid? No of course not. A good chunk of the profit just goes on up to the executive level, or to shareholders first. Most devs don't see any of the money at all (and likely never would if studios had any say in it), but it also doesn't necessarily mean that if the money *did* reach them it would even be enough because, again, the production of making a whole-ass video game is incredibly expensive. Most executives would also gladly lay developers off or exploit other workers before taking a pay cut themselves but the money that does move around probably isn't enough in the first place.

There's no real thesis here because it's still early in the morning and I'm tired, but I just hope folks reflect on what exactly they're arguing for when they say blanket statements like "games should cost less". As a consumer it's an easy idea to throw around, but how you'd hope to see it put into practice behind the scenes is what you really should be talking and thinking about. "I want my video game to be cheap!" is a statement that is generally unhelpful and actually harmful to developers and work practices surrounding them - the money's gotta come off of someone and if a corporation is gunna take it from anyone first it's going to be the folks they have the most power over.

Personally I always think supporting the efforts of devs who are unionizing their workforce is paramount so that at a baseline, so they're at least paid what they're worth for the games they make for you and they have resources to fight back against their exploitation.

After all, I'm sure we can agree that if video games as we know them are going to continue to cost a ton of money to make, it's best that money at least go to the people being exploited most - right?

[oldguy56-world]

Date Night

I am happily married so there is no need to go on any more dates in my life. Do I take my wife out? Of course I do but technically they are not dates because a date implies it is a meeting to decide whether or not you will end up with this person for the rest of your life. No pressure there. I suppose this means that people who date a lot are confused as to what (or who) they are actually looking for, or I guess it might just mean they are very horny.

Back in the old days of my youth there were numerous places where you could meet a person that could be a potential date/mate. Let's have a look at these.

Work. This was at one time a prime spot for finding people. Not so much any more. A lot of places of business like stores, offices, or just general working environments are now down to a couple of people. Good luck that the other person working with you is going to be your soul mate. But what if it is a large place with plenty of people to choose from? If you ask a person out and they say no, you cannot ask them out again or it is harassment. Don't even look at them. Ask out a second person and you are a predator. If someone says yes you better have lots of paperwork signed that it is okay. Perhaps it is a good thing that most places have people working from home. Saves a lot of problems. Now that people are working from home the only one they see in person on a daily basis is their cat, and well there are laws against that type of relationship.

Church. Do people still go there any more that aren't in their '80's? No thanks.

School. Seems like students are more interested in getting a degree these days than meeting a person. It is official. The nerds have won.

Bars. Everybody looked good in smoke filled rooms with a dozen tequilas in them. Remove the smoke, cut down on the amount of alcohol because the bars do not want to be sued, and everyone is a sane rational person who would never hook up with a stranger. Ever wonder why the birth rate is down...think about it.

Blind dates set up by friends. Who has real friends anymore? They are all virtual and living alone in their own parent's basement. No chance that their girlfriend/wife has a cousin who is nice once you get to know her. Best hope you have is that you make a connection with the Uber Eats driver.

Arranged marriages. Not common in many parts of the world but getting back to the point a couple of spots above ever notice that countries that embrace this activity have some of the highest birthrates in the world? Just saying.

I didn't even get into the cost of dating. Call me cheap but dinner and a move now costs an arm and a leg. You might only be able to afford one shot at happiness every 5 or six months so you better make it a good shot.

What is the main tool now? On-line dating. According to the profiles (Yes I did some research) everyone on these sites is wonderful. I have seen enough TV to know that they are never what they seem, and if you are old and they are young it is probably a man named Gus who is just scamming you for cash.

Even if they are legit no thanks. It was humiliating enough to ask out a woman and be turned down. How bad would it be if you post on a site that boasts thousands of members and no one swipes right on your picture?

I am happy to be married to my wonderful wife and not have to put myself through all of this dating nonsense. It is also the reason I do everything I can to keep my wife happy in life. She can do better, but I don't want her testing that theory.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: There is no algorithm for love. There is no dating formula. If it is there, it is there.

[serious-tabaxi]

Day 23 Went to lerazan’s junk shop. Found a bottle of what I initially thought to be quicksilver, was labeled  Sivler[sic]. On second examination, unfortunately after I’d purchased it, I determined it to be too viscous to be quicksilver. I guess it can’t hurt to find out what it is.

Addendum: Identify reveals it to be a material actually called “Sivler”. The label was actually correct. Identify gleaned no further information, which worries  me. It might be reasonable to experiment with it, at the very least I can pawn it off with a better explanation to someone else.

Day 24: experiments more or less fruitless. Sivler is completely non-reactive to any kind of reagent I mixed it with, being denser than all but mercury. It also seems to be highly immiscible, returning to separate layers mere minutes after being mixed with anything. I did accidentally spill some on my arm, but rigorous washing and an extra-safe Remove Curse should have dealt with that.

Day 26: after two days, a small section of silver flesh and fur has appeared on my arm in the place where the spill occurred. Remove Curse and Dispel magic were both attempted, but neither changed anything. Sivler must be some kind of transformative reagent to mortal bodies. I am reluctant to rely on any more charges from my restorer- or break my restorer – to see if that fixes anything, so I may have to see if I can afford Gamarath’s Restoration Services.

Day 27: I did have enough money to afford Gamarath’s work, but even his Greater Restoration was ineffective. He also didn’t give a refund, the greedy jerk… in other news, the section has grown in diameter to approximately 4 cm. I tried to break the surface of- or remove- the section, but it proved immune to anything I could throw at it without hurting myself. Self-mutilation, though terrible, might be the only solution. Luckily, it is my non-dominant arm; I can likely survive with limited arm use. addendum: after considering my options, I did decide to go through with the removal plan. I had access to a few pain-removing plants, which did remove all pain from the body long enough to easily remove the section- although it had grown very deep. I may have to find someone willing to Regenerate the lost hand and forearm. Pain did return once the herbs’ effects wore off, but is manageable.

Day 31: it appears that removal of arm was ineffective in completely removing Sivlers effects, more of the material replaced a moderate section of my feet. This particularly is not good, as I rely on them to walk. However, mobility and feeling does seem to remain in silvered areas. Still, it worries me that this sivler… thing… has likely ingrained itself into my bloodstream and cannot be removed, period.

Addendum: if this Sivler ingrains itself into the bloodstream, can it cure bloodborne diseases? Zenopil has been getting worse, and I fear I may not have much time to save her. In a case of sivler infection or death, I would rather my sister survive, even at great cost.

Day 32: Zenopil’s condition is rapidly deteriorating. I may only have hours with her alive. I write with worried hands, and may yet be desperate enough to see if sivler can save her. If it can, an early injection would be most likely to save her, so I have already transferred a small amount of sivler into a syringe.

Syrinel forgive me.

Day 33: after injection, Zenopil’s condition immediately improved greatly. My estimates show she will no longer need any life support in about 1 day. However, the silver material has completely converted her body. it took 5 minutes from injection to complete conversion.

Day 34: Zenopil is awake and lively. She seems more blissful than ever before in her life… hopefully as a result of knowing she’s no longer got a timer on her life. I will begin administering what tests I can to determine how much of her remained.

Addendum: approximately 80% of Zenopil’s personality remained constant, and she still remembers me as her brother. However, she no longer seems to believe herself to be named “Zenopil”. Now all she responds to is “Sivler 1037”. is this going to happen to me? Will the name Derakon be lost? I can’t imagine what my parents would think, were they still alive. in other news, infection of self has reached the knees. A small other silver region has appeared on my dominant hand, and some of my spells seem to be acting… a little off.

Day 35: I wasn’t wrong before about spells being off. Sivler appears to have a natural weakening effect of magic- especially arcane magic. In a few days, I will most likely be effectively mundane. Even now, my tier 2 spells are failing, and tier 1 spells are acting incorrectly- identify identifying nearby objects other than the one targeted, detect magic flipping around spell types, etc. I know I should be worried about this loss, but I feel… calm. Too calm. Leg infection has reached groin. Hand infection has almost reached elbow.

Day 36: I haven’t been hungry, I realize. Not in several days. Neither has Zenopil(should I call her 1037? I don’t know.) eaten anything- or drunk anything. Or slept for that matter. I don’t even know if she breathes- I haven’t found any evidence of her doing so. This does make sense- metals and oozes don’t typically need such things.

Day 38: 1037 has been very helpful with my health. I know that what’s happened to her is happening to me, and she knows and forgives me- helps me through it. that’s what siblings do, I guess. in other news, completely mundane. It’s a little odd to get used to, but… it’s for the better.

Day 40: Infection has reached neck. Unsure of what to do, now. With our location in the woods, I don’t think I or 1037 will be looked for in a while- the tower we live in certainly looks ruined. And… everything looks so beautiful. Feels so beautiful. And when I see it… which 1037 assures me I will, then I truly will be beyond mortal.

Day 41: Purification is complete. 1037 and I plan on leaving and searching for mortals to purify- spread the light of          . I will continue to update this journal, although I don’t know if there’s truly a point.

Day 43: on our travels, we came across a fox-man, with an incredibly powerful… feeling. he wore a mask of white material over his upper face- never took it off. he stared at us- and then offered to return my magic and give me a name. I told him my magic wasn’t needed anymore but would be convenient to regain, but I don’t need a new name. Sivler 1133 is a perfectly good name, much better than his suggestion of- what was it? Sirius… something?

[naamahdarling]

Just popping in with sympathy for all the stuff- and to note that moving really did not affect my own SSDI at all when I had to move from TX to AZ for like 6 months before moving to NM, so I would hope it would go smooth for you...a lot probably depends on where you would move to, like... NM was a breeze to get everything sorted out and going compared to TX, (AZ I wasn't living in long enough for a lot to happen and I didn't bother to apply for EBT there as I knew it was temporary.)

The fully federal SSDI and my medicaid stayed rock solid and steady for me- I got an account at a national bank that would be where I figured I'd end up and sorted out the direct deposit while in AZ and that was the end of all fuss... until I came up for normal review. And I hope for everyone else on SSI or SSDI I wasn't an outlier in how painless that bit was.

I did have maybe a week of hiccup about needing to choose a new medicaid provider/insurance once in NM but the group I went with here got me in way faster than TX ever did in the end.

But yeah, having no mortgage and shit is key, and right now afaik the market everywhere means you could ostensibly get more than usual for your place, if it came down to that- but you'd be paying more than usual anywhere else, too. (Which alas is why one of my best buddies couldn't move to join me in NM a year or two ago from their red state, ugh.)

I'm on SSI which is very very very different from SSDI, and it isn't moving itself, it's inheriting money and a house and the legalities of that as it pertains to my dad's particular situation and ours. Which is why we need to maybe get a lawyer to make sure things aren't going to screw me over? Which we, you guessed it, cannot afford. There might be someone who knows what they are doing re: SSI (this is almost impossible to fucking find evidently) and will work pro bono, but we both are so beaten down that doing all the calling and poking around is just. We need someone else to do that for us. Friends? Who the fuck knows. But just moving would be fine as far as SNAP and Medicaid and finding new doctors and all that, that is all stuff I've had to do before and it doesn't worry me, thankfully.

If the inheritance was sufficiently large, which at this point I doubt it is, I probably could buy a place outright and move IF I could meet or beat cost of living here, which is so dicey. Most cheap enough places to live are in deep red states or deep red areas of blue states. If I can, I WILL move, obviously, but even that is like...well...will it stay better, if I move? Or will I look around a few years down the line and realize all that trouble amounted to nothing? And I'm just in a strange place far away from everything and everyone and everywhere I have ever known, from the people I trust with my life, with nothing to show for it but the same target on my back? Those changes on their own would be SO psychologically destabilizing even without bad legislation keeping us down. It'd have to be a cheap, sweet deal to make it liveable and safe.

[chungledown-bimothy]

If I Loved You Less, I Might Be Able To Talk About It More Part 4

The Goblin Court recognizes Hob, and Rue makes a decision.

Arranged Marriage Battlemaster of Ceremonies AU (Episode 3 Canon Divergence)

I promise, I wrote the Detect Magic -> Cure Wounds before yesterday's episode

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500

Part Four: Resolutions

Part One Part Three AO3

Hob woke up the next morning to find an envelope tucked under his shoulder. He opened it and saw it was from Lord Blemish and Lady Boil.

Well done with the announcement yesterday, ensuring that the price for the Court of Wonder breaking the deal would be higher than even they can afford. Perhaps we have been too harsh and underestimated you. 

Congratulations, Major Hob. 

We trust you to continue doing as you should at the ball tonight; no need to report to us today.

Everything he ever wanted, and all it cost was being barely, agonizingly, out of reach from something he’d never dared to even imagine, let alone consider possible. Possible or not, the fantasy overwhelmed him as he took quill to parchment and wrote a letter of his own.

To the estimable Delloso de la Rue,

I see now that the battles you face daily are ones beyond my comprehension, and I apologize from every corner of my soul for having the audacity to assume that, between them and your duties here at the Bloom, my words or actions could have any significance for you. I know that I am so far beneath you to be unworthy of your notice, but if I may, I would like to repay your honesty with some of my own.

In doing me the honor of allowing me to see the splendor of your true form, you have bewitched me, body and soul. Seeing you as you truly are sparked something in me that I did not think I could ever be lucky enough to experience. The only thing that has changed about my vow to stay by your side for as long as you would have me there is an increase in both its intensity and the agony, worse than any battlefield injury I have suffered in my many years as a soldier, that I would feel if you sent me away.

I would not, however, burden you with my affections. I still ask for nothing but friendship. I will never speak of these sentiments again, and I will truly be content providing only whatever amount of support and companionship you desire. 

Eternally yours, however you would have me,

Knickolas Pnackleless Hob

P.S., I know you said you didn’t want me to fight anyone for you, but if you did decide to show the Bloom your breathtaking, resplendent truth, I would happily gut anyone who so much as looked at you with anything but the utmost awe and respect. You deserve to be appreciated and honored as your true self.

Hob read the letter over again, and again, and again. I cannot send this. I have no right to, and nothing other than my pain and humiliation could possibly come from them reading it. 

With a sigh, he tucked it away on top of dozens of other letters that would never be sent, albeit the first addressed to someone who could actually read.

He completed his daily calisthenics routine and, when he returned, was surprised to find a letter on the ground in front of his tent.

Captain Hob,

As I am sure you are aware, tonight is the ball. Please meet me in my quarters at your earliest convenience- in addition to ball attire coordination, I believe we need to discuss… well. I think you know, and I’d hate for that information to fall into the wrong hands. 

Yours,

Delloso de la Rue

Doing his best to ignore how his heart was racing from the invitation to their personal, private quarters, he immediately headed their way.

He arrived quickly, and the sight that greeted him when Rue opened the door made him weak in the knees. Their iridescent robes practically floated behind them, reflecting the light in ways that made them seem to be glowing, and he heard a faint tinkling of bells instead of swishing as it moved. 

“Captain, good morning! I- I apologize for my attire, I seem to have lost track of time. Please, come in and take a seat. It’ll only take me a minute to change.” They stepped back, opening the door wider, and he stepped through. As he walked past them, he briefly caught the scent of the same flowers from the maze, the flowers they had been wearing in their true form. 

After the door was closed and he was sure no one else could hear, as Rue was walking deeper into their chambers, he muttered, “If you would feel more comfortable returning as your true self, there would certainly be no objections from me.”

-

“There would certainly be no objections from me.” Hob remained standing in place next to the chair they’d gestured for him to take, but his words followed Rue all the way back to the enormous room that was their closet. As they circled the room trying to decide what to wear, something else he said echoed in their mind.

“Delloso, I-” Delloso. Not Rue, not Delloso de la Rue, Delloso. They couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called them that. The thought occurred to them that it was entirely possible no one had. 

With a deep breath, they dropped the glamor, got dressed, and headed back out to properly greet only the second person they had allowed to really see them in millennia.

-

Hob didn’t think Rue had even heard him suggest that they could drop the glamor, so when he saw them seemingly gliding across the floor towards him in all their true, radiant beauty, he collapsed onto the chair beside him. 

“Hob! Are you alright?” Rue rushed to him, and the concern in their voice snapped him out of his stupor.

He cleared his throat and sat up as straight as he could. “My apologies, I am quite well.”

“With all due respect, Captain, you collapsed. Someone of your… physicality does not do that without great cause.” They knelt down next to him and took one of his hands in both of theirs. They quickly cast a Detect Magic that came up empty and a Cure Wounds that also didn’t feel like it did anything.

Hob gently lifted their chin with his free hand and made eye contact. “Rue, I appreciate the concern and the spells, but I assure you, I am fine. It simply has been quite a morning, and you doing me the honor of once again allowing me to behold you as you truly are proved to be a bit overwhelming. Again, I am so sorry for having caused you concern.”

“I- I see.” They let go of his hand and stood up. “My apologies for having distressed you so. Momentous morning, you say? May I ask what has happened?” Hob stood up as well and tried to make eye contact again, but they refused to meet his gaze. 

“Let me be clear, Rue. I was shaken not out of distress but of awe. If I may be so bold, you, like this as you are, are beautiful. More so than anyone I have ever met. I am aware that this is overstepping the line of the friendship you have so graciously offered, but as we are to spend the rest of our lives together, I will not have you believe for another minute that I think anything less of you. You needn’t ever feel ashamed of who you are. I will not pressure you in any way to bless the realms with the privilege of you sharing your truth with them, but if or when you do, know that I will proudly stand beside you every step of the way.”

“Captain, I-”

“Major, actually. That was the momentous news this morning; our announcement yesterday was apparently so successful that the Lord Blemish and Lady Boil saw fit to promote me. Sorry for interrupting, it’s just that you’d asked what happened and I didn’t actually answer but then you called me Captain again, and I just-”

Rue finally looked at him, no longer up like when they met but down ever so slightly, and smiled. “Congratulations, Major Hob. You deserve such recognition from your court. And you didn’t overstep. Your words mean more to me than I can express. 

To be entirely honest, since the rumor is that this is to be the last Bloom, I’d been considering coming out, as it were. When I was informed of our engagement, I had changed my mind, out of fear that it would, I don’t know, cause your court to break the deal and bring so much dishonor onto both my name and my court’s. 

But hearing you, the honorable, trustworthy gentleman I know you to be, say all of that… I’m ready. I hate to ask you to be in the spotlight once again, but what say you to making a bit of an entrance at the ball tonight?”

He smiled and bowed deeply. “As you wish. It is your moment, and I am happy to be entirely at your disposal.”

[elizalona]

July 2024: WATCH THE CITY BURN

I painted over the cracks of my past. In their absence, I let the ruins of the city construct new ones. I think of the slabs of concrete that threatened my steady gait, the lovers who broke my footing before the sidewalk ever did. The flashes of headlights against my sunken gaze, my unyielding eyes in the reflection of a bar's smudged mirror.

I think of the women who fixed their eyes on me while I crossed my legs in anticipation as I waited to claim a bathroom stall. The amount of times I was lent more consideration by these women than the man on the other end of my phone. Her eyelashes are long, her cheeks are flushed. She watches as I wipe residual mascara from underneath my eyes and baptize my neck in more perfume.

"You're so pretty," she says, and I know she means it. She's waiting for her own text. I don't doubt for a second she'll receive it. She's so pretty.

I lost myself in the technicolor of Xanax and whiskey and the exposed skin of a greedy men. He presents himself in all his glory at the foot of my bed; I lay before him, a shell of myself. Something akin to desire exists in this moment, even if its hollow and riddled with booze and the smell of an unfinished cigarette.

I ride the train miles up north, my roommate at my side as she solidifies our evening plans. She speaks in a poetic cadence when she discusses the man she's seeing. I don't doubt for a second that he's in love with her. He makes a reservation for two at upscale restaurants, asks her for her opinion on the lecture he gave the day prior as a professor. When they come home, I hear the slow, rhythmic pulsating of her headboard against our adjoining walls. He confirms plans before he kisses her goodbye at the doorway.

On weekend nights, when I find myself void of plans, I drift to my balcony with a bottle of wine, another one chilling in my refrigerator. I play music that I'm certain will summon the music of a past lover or friend. Unexplained absences from work and a building gas bill tells me speak truth into my self-sufficiency. Aspirations stifled by closing shifts relinquish me of all responsibilities. I tell myself it's not my job to unburden the past. I can only float in the present.

The glistening windows of empty new builds, a cocktail that costs more than my hourly wage, the laugh of the men who live below me. The hungry mouths, the abandonment of a scheduled bus, all this teeming life. I pay my rent because I cannot afford the voice of my mother.

I stumble to the local Walgreens around midnight for smokes. There is a crowd of men laughing behind me, they idly wait in line as the condensation from their beer drips onto the linoleum. I flirt with the idea of turning around and asking them what their plans are for the night.

The next morning, I'm servicing customers with a placid smile. I wonder if they notice the beads of sweat on my forehead, a product of my over drinking. I adorn their hands with overpriced jewelry and feel envious of how delicate my touch is for them. I am a ghost behind this counter, an apparition that speaks in pleasantries. "Gold suits you," I whisper to the customer who tentatively appraises the jewelry in a nearby mirror.

After my shift, I walk to the train station and contemplate throwing myself onto the tracks. The train arrives before I can complete the thought and I am stifled onto a cart where someone is smoking a joint and blasting music. There is a family in the corner, visibly uncomfortable. You can tell they visited the city for a day, a sweet escape from the mundane cycle of the suburbs.

A text lights my phone up. It's from a strange man I met a few nights ago, a man I found myself under at 4 o'clock in the morning. His dick was limp from all the lines of coke he sniffed; I moaned in compliance. I reply back, "What're you doing tonight?" It's better I sabotage myself in the presence of him than in the presence of myself.

This trauma is foreign to me, almost exotic. It nestles into the crooks of lost memories and is less needy when the sun goes down. I used to awake to broken glass from my father's tirades, the resentful stare of my mother as I dressed for school. Those truths are rendered powerless in the becoming of my own sabotage.

[pepsicolabunches]

Getting a bit really stressed about my roommates not working. One is making ei so there's at least some money coming in for rent, but the other quit her job a couple months ago (right after we moved to the new, big house) and has had to ask for everyone else to cover her portion of the rent...

I can't really help much because I don't really even make enough for food, let alone an entire other persons rent

To be clear, I'm not asking tumblr to help with my financial struggles. If you want to help people, there are countless people in crisis that you can donate to. There are people in your own community who could use that help.

I just need somewhere to vent about the fear I'm feeling about my situation. If we get evicted because we couldn't pay rent, I'm absolutely certain I won't be able to find another place, and could end up homeless which, as a disabled person barely holding on, sometimes in constant pain, I can tell you that I will not make it on the streets.

Luckily I do have people in my life that I can temporarily move in with, but not with my stuff. And I do have a lot of stuff. Mostly books and clothes. Almost all the books I've lugged with me across Canada, through my many many moves.

I'm very grateful for consistently having a place to live, enough to slowly acquire many things. Not things that are worth anything, I can't sell them or anything. And I don't want to. Maybe it's a bit selfish but I've worked my ass off dealing with working while being in severe pain. Working while recovering from surgeries. Also, as a person living in poverty, having things means I don't need to buy those things. Which is good because I do not have the funds to just buy things when I need them.

Most of my things I've had for most of my life.

Idk

Idk where my brain was going with this I just... Idk I'm making this about me I suppose. And also about so many other people struggling through poverty. It's like, really really expensive to not have the money for things. I buy cheap items because I can't afford expensive things. I buy things when they are on sale even if I can't afford them because I know it will last longer than buying it cheap.

I've messed up my guts cuz I haven't eaten properly in more than a decade. Not having enough energy to make food means I have to buy things that are really easy to make. Sometimes I have to bite the bullet and spend so much fucking money on getting food delivered because I'm in so much pain I can barely walk to the bathroom, let alone the grocery store and then also making food. Last month I cried making a sandwich because it was too painful.

I guess this is about fear. I'm already aware that there aren't really any systems in place to help people who need it. The systems in place are overworked because they aren't funded properly. They don't really have any solutions for ppl struggling to make rent/buy food. Definitely no solutions for people who are poor and also have health issues. For some reason they expect disabled people to be able to access the same solutions which, often is not possible.

Doctors keep suggesting my roommates act as some kind of a care aide, getting my food, making my food, helping with cleaning, driving me places. But also don't think I have severe enough pain to actually suggest getting a care aide. They just assume my friends/partner are fully willing and able to support me out of the goodness of their hearts. As if the people around me are not also struggling. As if I could just put the responsibility of taking care of a person onto someone who very much did not offer their help. And they shouldn't. I'm absolutely not putting myself in the situation where I am at the mercy of other people's unpaid labour. These are my friends, not my personal workers.

I was trying to get a service dog, but they cost a whopping $40,000. I cannot afford $300/month for food, so there's not a chance in hell I could ever get one. The nonprofit organization that might have covered the cost of it is already full (waitlist also full) so if that ever happens it will be years from now.

Every solution requires a lot of effort (that, again, I do not have the energy for). Every problem requires solutions that do not exist.

I'm doing the absolute best I can and I'm just, acutely aware that it is not enough.

Feeling the weight of stress piling up on me... When I ask for relief, all I get is more steps to climb.

Feeling trapped in this body which is absolutely constantly reminding me of how I am unable to do the things I need to do. If it's not one thing, it's another. I had 7 months of every day pain so bad I had to go to the er many times. Do I know why? No. I'm just grateful I have had a couple weeks of not that specific type of pain. Not that I'm pain free of course. Going to the grocery store a couple blocks away, filling up a rolling cart ($130 of food that won't even last me a week), not making it home without crying because I can feel bones scraping together in my hips (no, not arthritis, just cuz it wants to :))

Genuinely, not sure what I'm supposed to do. Everything I do feels like too much and also not enough. Feels like I'll never climb out of the hole I've wiggled my way into.

So terrified that I will have to deal with all of this while also not having stable housing

Im not expecting anyone to read all of this, I'm just, needing to put this somewhere. Getting the stress out of my brain (hopefully)

[owedfavors]

ON DECEIVING STARFLEET ;

GENETICS.

it takes both genetic alterations and surgery to adapt her body and appearance to fully reflect human features. the surgeries remove a handful of additional bones,  ones that do not belong in a human skeleton.  fortunately,  they’re little more than extra support,  and the loss of them costs her little by the time genetic modifications have strengthened their counterparts.  the surgeries also remove two internal organs that,  while useful upon her home planet,  would distinguish her as inhuman,  and rearrange the internal map of her organs to reflect human physiology.  she has the work done on a relatively obscure planet,  on an outpost not known for its upper classes and upstanding legal system,  but by someone very very good at their job.

but these, physical changes alone will not suffice, and she had apprenticed herself to a geneticist during her schooling on illyria.  through his tutelage and through her own,  independent study,  she learns enough to make preparations to alter her own genetic code on a permanent basis in collaboration with another illyrian geneticist.  she leaves in place her augmentations  ( she will need her advanced healing and her resistance to disease,  if she does not want accidental injury or illness to provoke an examination that will betray her secret ),  but she makes adjustments to ensure that her body accommodates — and maintains — the surgical alterations,  to adjust her physical appearance to be fully human,  and to make minor adjustments to the functioning,  and design,  of internal organs.  most importantly,  her biosigns register as human.

on the whole,  it is an immensely painful process.  the genetic alterations take almost a year to both complete  ( she cannot make all the alterations at once without killing herself )  and to settle in place.  she must wait while her body regrows and shifts itself,  while it accepts this new form and function as its own.  it’s during this period of waiting that she works to prepare both her application and her falsified personal records  ( see below ).

despite these changes,  her dna is not human,  and were a doctor to actually examine it,  they’d find it distinctly alien — distinctly,  at its core,  illyrian.  una,  accordingly,  cannot afford to find herself in a situation necessitating genetic tests.  it also bears the signs of genetic alterations,  of spliced genes and rewritten code.  she told the geneticist little of her goals,  fearing raise possibilities that she might later be betrayed to starfleet,  and so did much of the work herself ( she would have done it all herself had she not needed access to a lab and equipment and someone to monitor her after treatments ).  it’s not expertly done,  and she does suffer some ramifications ( I will elaborate later ).  but,  it’s served its purpose.

PERSONAL RECORDS

starfleet rules are clear:  only someone from a federation world,  or sponsored by a starfleet officer,  may apply to join.  una lacks both federation,  much less starfleet,  contacts  and federation origin.  however,  according to una’s official starfleet file,  she was born and raised in pau'van city on pau'uri,  a federation planet.  it’s a large city,  large enough that if anyone went asking questions,  no one would be expected to know her personally,  and home to a motley assortment of species,  including enough humans not to strike anyone as unusual.  she fabricated birth records,  school records,  medical records,  housing records for her family,  an identification card,  letters of recommendation.  she falsified pictures,  with family,  with friends.  she inserted herself into school yearbooks,  and if you contact her supposed former school,  they’ll say that yes,  they have a student named una evers on file,  even if no one recalls her being there.  contact the city she lived in,  and,  yes,  she and her family are on file as citizens,  though the everses left and,  no,  they have no record of where they moved to.

in short,  she has an entire  ( and entirely false )  paper trail and alternate identity.

[through-thorns-to-the-stars]

So... Yeah, it's been a long time since I posted anything here. A lot happened in my life, so much got messed up in the process, during those years of break. I moved out, lived with the person I spoke about in one or two posts before. Turned out badly, we broke up and live separately right now.

It's not like any of us were bad people. But we're both people with big issues we didn't knew or still don't know how to fix properly. I learnt something about myself, that I actually don't know how to and if I can fix at all. Currently I'm on the wait list for psychiatrist appointment to diagnose with autism spectrum disorder in mind. Not really fond of the word "disorder" but well. Along with that comes my issue, that I tend to swing around a lot. From feeling lonely to being overwhelmed by social interaction and someone's presence in the same space. It was a nightmare living with someone, but it doesn't mean that I wouldn't want a romantic relationship with someone sometime in the future. Not sure how to handle this and I feel lost.

Other than that, I've come to terms with the fact that I never really overcome my depression. It just became more functional, that I can manage on my own, but it still makes my day to day life hard. Mood swings are the worst, from feeling relatively fine to not being able to leave the bed. Suicidal thoughts never quite came back, but desire to just stop existing appears frequently.

My self esteem is still fragile and unstable, I realized most of my life have been driven by codependency and trying to make other people happy, to the point I was denying myself boundaries and neglecting my own needs. It led to frustration, that combined with my partner's issue caused us to break up. Maybe for the better since now we at least aren't making each other unhappy.

But what do I really want? I don't know. I dropped out of university in the last year, right before my master's degree. I work a job that's not fitted to my needs and drains me every day. As the end of the year is approaching, I think more about the future and realize that in fact, I don't have any goal to look up to. All this time, at least I had some milestones to achieve that society set up for me and even if they were giving me false sense of achievement and fulfilment, I felt like I was doing something and not wasting my life away. Now it's gone and I'm struggling to find my own way and my own place in the world.

Finishing highschool, then going to study on university, then finding stable work, moving out, living with a partner I set up future goals with, with who I planned our future. All of it is gone. In the meantime I failed some relationship with people I cared about, lost contact with two friends and now I'm not sure if I can ever rebuild that. I regained contact with one really important one from years back... But as much as it fills me with joy and love, it fills me up with fear.

How do I not fail another person? I'm scared about messing up again like I did with my partner. I struggle maintaining relationships and past experience with my partner fills me with huge doubts. It was a person I knew for almost 13 years of my life, almost half my lifetime, I was in relationship almost three years. I thought we were in it for the rest of our lives, never thought we could really split... Thing like that makes you thinking. If it didn't work out with someone who knew me for so long, who had a lot of patience to stick with me, then how is that supposed to work with someone who knows me less? How to not hurt another person like that ever again? I overdo, I overcompensate, I tend to doubt my judgement, I put another person above myself and then struggle with frustration, my emotions, burn out, till I snap. I need regular therapy but I cannot afford it right now with inflation and costs of life spiking in my country.

I guess... That's it... It's just a huge complaining post.

[maincatclub]

21st October 2022.

Thought that we would start with the pictures today.

These are pictures of Liz Truss. She was the prime minister of this country till she resigned after 44/45 days in the job. She is the shortest serving prime minister ever. At least the previous shortest had the decency to die whilst in office. She will leave office after causing havoc in our country. The Ill fated budget that she backed after Kwasi announced it has driven the economy into free fall. The pound at its lowest level for not just years but decades. And who is paying for the cost of gas, well you right it’s us. There mistake not even going to the Office of Budget Responsibility to get the main points signed off. What will happen to the pensioners who besides having to pay more for energy and inflation at over 10%?mainly caused by increasing food prices have the triple lock on there pensions removed. I did say the time will come when we will find our parents cold and hungry huddled round and dying because they have no access to food at reasonable prices and medical treatment. These cases will be highlighted and the response will be, well they could have applied to charities. Or they could have gone to heat banks places where they could go to warm up, before returning to there cold homes with little or nothing to eat. Does this not sound a little to much like Dickensian Britain.

When Truss finally goes she will receive a stipend in excess of £100,000 per year just from having been prime minister for 44/45 days, this stipend will last the whole of her life, not for the next year or the next 5 years but the whole of her life. If she lives to the age of 80 we will have given her 3.3 million pounds for 44/45 days work. 3.3 million pounds for tanking the economy. If any of the older members of society die as a result of the mess that she as the prime minister is responsible for, this could but won’t get the headlines of 3.3 million pounds for killing our parents.

Liz Truss you should be ashamed of what you have done, you should stand before the British people and apologise for what you are responsible for. Give your stipend to charity. You and your party have driven the number of families into abject poverty for nearly 5 million families. More food banks than McDonalds, this is a disgrace to supposedly the 7 biggest economy in the world, and then you want to reinstate bankers bonuses. It’s not that they earn enough you want to give then a bonus for playing with our money.

Liz Truss I would say go to the country and ask them whether they approve of your policies where ordinary people with ordinary jobs cannot afford to live without reverting to charity for them and there children. Never a Tory nor a Tory supporter be, give someone else a chance.

[lakotaboy605]

Affordable Education in Indian Country

This was a good week for me as I am so grateful to be Native American and get an affordable college degree. I am currently unemployed due to taking a semester off to focus on my schoolwork and this grant and scholarship helps a lot. I pay roughly around $5000 a semester for my classes and without this grant I would think college would be unimaginable.

            The Pell grant has helped me out more than it will ever know, and I am thankful for this, or I do not think I would of ever went to college because I thought it cost too much and was impossible for someone like me coming from where I do. We have seen the negative impact student struggle with finishing their degree, but also having to pay back the outrageous student loan interest that comes with getting these predatory loans.

Many Native Americans grow up in poverty. Too often we must go in debt by getting these loans to afford a college education. The average poverty rate on my reservation is 53.75% compared to the USA rate of 15.6% Tribal members struggle on an everyday basis; this is compacted with the low unemployment rate. The Covid Pandemic made it even more complex and harder to get by.

All the challenging work I have been putting into my education has been paying off in a positive way by me getting scholarships that can get me by enough to pay my bills for now until the end of the semester. This semester has been a challenge financially because I quit my full-time job at our native clinic to focus on my classes this semester because they are all difficult courses. I am glad I did to be able to focus on getting homework done on time and doing the best work I can.

            I am glad for every student out their struggling to pay these loans are getting any form of help with the one-time student loan forgiveness that is being offered by the Department of Education. They are offering up to $20,000 if you received a Pell Grant and $10,000 if you did not receive one which to me is better than nothing considering the circumstances all of us have been dealing the past couple of years. Growing up our parents tell us we need to get a degree to have a successful life and get a decent job, but what isn’t told or explained to students is the effects these loans can have on a person from impacting their credit scores to having your wages garnished when working to pay off the insane interest rate.

            I hope every student, not just Native American students from poverty-stricken areas knows about these Pell Grants and uses them to their advantage. Also, I hope they find out about scholarships, and applying for them will go a long way also and knowing about the American Indian College Fund is another resource that helps Native Americans reach their goals of finishing their college education and helping with financial aid. We get told sometimes that we cannot break the stigma of alcoholism and being poor, but education is the key to breaking this vicious cycle and bringing hope to our people and tribes.

[myfirstandlast]

my depression is reaching unsalvageable levels and i don’t know what to do im quite scared and i don’t have anyone around me for protection or support

[szanne7000]

Amazing how you're so active in this community but stay silent on all your fav creators being total scumbags doxing and tracking people.

Hi Nonny,

I’m going to respond to your anonymous statement because I want to…

I want to state with full clarity that I fully support creators whether they are free, early access, or exclusive. This is their time, effort, artistry, and money. It isn’t mine nor yours. I choose to support multiple creators in a variety of ways – comments, random cups of coffee, Ko-fi, donations, and, yes, Patreon.

I am a cc fan. I love cc. In fact, I love it so much that I have more than I’ll ever be able to use (especially when you add in all the swatches!) in my lifetime! I spend my money on this, not yours. I choose to do this because I value what creators do for this community – even if some have chosen to keep their content exclusive.

Guess what? I don’t get to make choices for other people. You don’t, either. I get to make choices for myself. You get to make choices for yourself. Creators get to make their own choices for themselves.

When I build, I use a huge variety of content. What I don’t do when I upload a build for others to use is to include content they must pay for. Why, you ask? Because not everyone can afford to do that. I have a whole host of builds sitting in my files that I haven’t uploaded because the content used is not available for free. Other builders do include content requiring payment and that is their choice.

I download content almost every day and I store it in multiple locations. They all cost me money that I, again, choose to pay. A lot of people ask me to help them find content that is no longer available. My archive allows me to do that. I also know how to use the Wayback Machine to find viable links and do that, as well. Often, I message a creator and ask them if they still have the item and/or if I may give it to someone who has asked me about it. I choose to do this. I like hunting down content because it is fun and sometimes it can be a days’ long challenge.

The Sims is something I indulge my time and money on because I can. There are a lot of things I cannot do. I cannot walk more than 10 feet without needing to stop. I cannot wear high heels. I cannot dance. I can no longer ride roller coasters. I cannot turn my neck more than an inch to either side. I cannot shower or bathe or swim by myself. I cannot ride a horse or climb mountains or play softball or volleyball. Everything I do with my hands is an enormous effort due to permanent nerve damage. I’ve been medically retired as a disabled veteran for the past 16 years and have lived with my physical issues for far longer. So, yes. I choose to indulge myself and I can do so.

I say all of this to you because you wrote me a nasty statement and included spurious, unfounded allegations against people I care about. I have known many of the creators whose content I use for years. I have friends literally all around the world because of this game.

Most of the time, I keep my opinions to myself. This particular issue has been going around for years and this latest has been like wildfire. A bad one where people panic instead of using rational thought. Panic gets people hurt. Try thinking logically. I have read everything I could find on this issue (because time really is something else I have).

Do you really think a creator has time to put together content, open a file and make changes into it (and every swatch) for each item created for every, single person supporting them? Do you know how expensive actual tracking software is? How time consuming? As so many creators have stated, they don’t have time nor the inclination to do all this extra work, which will not prevent links and/or content from being shared or pirated in any case.

As for doxing, tracking, and bad behavior, please show the receipts. Are you aware of how easy it is to fabricate messaging, texts, emails? If someone has been doxed, did they report it to the authorities? That is illegal, not to mention wrong. File tracking? Again, expensive in both time and money. Bad behavior? I see it every day. It saddens me.

I prefer to bring joy to people, not hate.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend, Nonny. Truly.

Hugs & Love, Suzanne  

[minor-solemnity]

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s