#it should only function as something that helps you keep going until you can find healthier coping mechanisms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deantfwinchester · 3 months

Text

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home.

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold.

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are.

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff.

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright.

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over.

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat.

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today.

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern.

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself.

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed.

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften.

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck.

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding.

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him.

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck.

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs.

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open.

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention.

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible.

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction.

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance.

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt.

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes.

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy.

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now.

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes.

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.”

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone.

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother.

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob.

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out.

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least.

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving.

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him.

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities.

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing.

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath.

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say.

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side.

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest.

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him.

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store.

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes.

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

471 notes · View notes

indecenthoney · 7 months

Text

"The Munchies"

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

Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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

Take a bite,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #cnc free use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #free use cnc #humiliation kink #edging and denial #rap3 fantasy #somno fantasy #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc drugging #RisquéHoney

469 notes · View notes

vixen-tech · 3 months

Note

sliding in dramatically, stumbling sneakers over head

if its not too much to ask [and dealers choice on the bots!] , could i get your headcanons for the fellas w/an insomniac reader ? totally not projecting. don’t ask me what time it is.

-AT-802U anon (IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS YOU SHOULD TOTALLY LOOK IT UP) (ITS A WEAPONIZED CROP DUSTER)

Not Dreaming of Electric Sheep

Hello you three!!! Thank you guys so much for requesting, and since they're decently similar concepts I've made the executive decision to combine them all into one big "reader has a bunch of sleep problems" post!

And while I have you here, I did look up the AT-802U and I think it's absolutely sick- fantastic namesake. And from anon two, thank you very much for the P03 shout out I love writing our defacto tsundere <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), P03 (Inscryption)

Hal 9000

Hal was made well aware of your insomnia before you joined the crew, as it had a history of disrupting your work. He takes extra care to make sure your sleeping area is in top shape for your arrival.

As mentioned in other posts, he can fill a caretaker roll quite well. He's often reminding you of how long you've been working and how soon it will be until the time you fell asleep the day before in an attempt to help you build a regular circadian rhythm.

He will also start experimenting with various treatment methods if your insomnia tends to be particularly difficult. From diet and meditation changes to different exercise intensities, hoping something will improve the quality of your rest.

More subtly, he will dim the lights throughout the ship at "night" to remind the crew that working hours are over. If anyone were paying attention then they would notice that the dimming doesn't follow any particular timezone, but instead your personal schedule.

Edgar

Edgar is very vocal about his grievances with your work schedule. Not only does it cut in to his time with you, but it also leaves you passing out around the house late at night! (Even if he kind of enjoys it when its right infront of him on the desk) He will constantly be pleading with you to drop some hours.

Besides that, he is far from the best influence on your sleep. He forgets to keep track of time himself and loves to soak up all the time he can get with you. If you let him he will keep you up into the early hours of the morning watching movies and playing music.

He does have a bit of a guilty conscious about it though, and will print you some of the latest articles on sleep science he can find. Including less than reputable homeopathic approaches, but hey- surely something has to work?

If you express interest, he will compose you a personal lullaby. Although it isn't a very scientific angle, he will feel immense joy whenever you fall asleep to it. Even if you only do after the seventh loop.

P03

To be perfectly honest, he did not notice that you had any problems for a good long while. He doesn't sleep himself so he saw nothing unusual in your behavior. Working through entire nights? Losing track of the hours while doing so? Yeah sounds normal, he does that all the time.

It isn't until he sees a decline in your energy, punctuated with a few passed out at your desk moments, that he remembers how much time humans need to spend unconscious to function properly. It's typically not a trait he finds all that endearing.

But for you, he can't find it in him to be more than midly annoyed that he has to be the one to do something about it. Going out of his way to help you under the justification that he'd rather have a moderate amount of good work than a large amount of bad work.

He sets up a timer near your station that acts as your cut off for work. Leaving you with plently of time to unwind and go to bed. If you refuse to and try to keep working he will psychically stop you, even moving your station to a room that he can lock you out of.

You really should be grateful he's putting in this much effort.

#vix fics #objectum #hal 9000 x reader #hal 9000 #2001 a space odyssey #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #electric dreams x reader #p03 x reader #inscryption p03 #p03 #inscryption x reader #inscryption

148 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 1 month

Note

Hello, if it's alright, could I request a Toby, Slenderman, EJ, and Jane the Killer x reader (separately) in which the reader (in most cases) doesn't know that they're injured until they look down at the injury? Not exactly to the extent of cipa, but more like they don't feel the pain or even notice it until they look down and see the injury.

If not that's ok too. Either way, have a good day!

Various crps x injured!reader who doesnt realize theyre injured

idk if theres a term for it but this happens to me sometimes </3 the amount of times id randomly find bruises or cuts and start feeling the pain as soon as a acknowledge the injury hisshiss characters: ticci toby, slenderman, jane the killer, eyeless jack notes: reader is gn cws: mentions of injuries

SLENDERMAN

he almost has a sixth sense when it comes to you, so its likely that he knows youre hurt before you do... though to be fair, with how long it takes you to notice that isnt... very impressive/lh

he does not wait for you to actually notice the damage, he goes into caregiver mode- taking you to clean the wound if its open and wrapping it if needed

does not have any answers for why you dont notice the pain at first but thats mostly because hes not skilled or educated in that sort of thing- you can only learn so much by observing others from far away and living in the woods

TICCI TOBY

you both passively lean into one another to keep track of the others wounds; you dont notice yours for a while, and neither does toby- though your scenarios arent exactly the same, you help each other take care of any nasty wounds that could get nastier if left untreated

in a way he finds himself relating to you on some level, because even temporarily you dont feel pain- you both may end up talking about your experiences

that being said, the two of you may not take cuts and bruises as seriously as you should because "well i can still function/i didnt notice the pain before- so its fine!" mentality, its... not the best way to go about things...

EYELESS JACK

headcanon that he was into medical stuff before getting all goopy and cannibalistic, so even if he doesnt immediately know whats going on he can cook up some theories-

that being said hes going to get onto you for leaving wounds uncleaned and uncovered, and will make it a habit to check over you every now and then to make sure youre not hurt... looks in places that are hard to look (back, neck, stuff like that)

always keeps a pack of Band-Aids/bandages on him at all times for general use, keeps other stuff at his place for worse injuries- disinfectants and needles to stich things up- hopefully it wont ever have to come to that, though

JANE THE KILLER

if youre the type to joke about your wounds to make the atmosphere lighter, its not going to work on jane... not because shes worried (okay... she is....) but because shes just.. not amused by that sort of humor

like jack, shes going to be stern and make sure youre taking better care of yourself and taking the time to look over yourself, as well as teaching you basic first aid if you've decided to skip over that

does not try to control you, shes not going to stop you from getting into a fight or doing something a little risky (within reason, if the situation seems too.. intense... itd be different), because even despite your little... situation... she has enough trust in you not to get mortally wounded

121 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 4 months

Note

Deep down, Tim knows that they are at fault. Deep down he knows that Jason and Damian attacking him like that *isn't ok*. But that's a truth he can't bring himself to face because even if he did, would Anyone believe him? If he told Bruce or Dick that the attacks still happened, that one of them tried to take his life at least once a month still, that neither of them would do anything. Tim doesn't know if they would defend him and punish Jason and Damian, or if they would just say, "you need to be more careful Tim, they can't always control themselves." And if the answer is anything but the first he knows his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Instincts are there, but they are easy to over come. They very from shifter type to shifter type and usually fall into groups by Animal Type. Such as a Tiger and a Housecat will have similar instinctive problems but they won't be the same as a Wolf or Dolphin's. As a snake Tim 100% has the urge to nap in warm places and does get slower when cold. His suit has special heaters in it that the others don't have due to his inability to regulate his own heat. Damian insists that Tim being unable to function without "a bunch of hand warmers" I'd proof that he shouldn't be in the field and should be fired. Tim bites his forked tongue to stop himself from screaming that if Damian can't not give into his instincts and attack Tim anytime he sees him Shifted then he shouldn't be in the field because he's gunna attack a civilian.

Also for now Bruce has no idea how shifters work. But this is Good Dad Bruce. He's going to put in Effort. He's *going* to find the resources he needs to parent this New Tim because he doesn't think he can bring himself to send any version of any of his children to a home that could hurt or likely kill them. Until then, Bruce is going to insist on New Tim (he gets called TJ thanks to Duke. After all, they can't call him Drake, he hates Timothy, Tim would be confusing, and neither Tim likes the idea of being called "Jackson") takes one of their spare rooms and gets a full 8 hours of sleep every night/day and 3 full meals a day. TJ was Visibly Confused by this due to the fact he hasn't been staying in the manor at all for almost a year due to Damian and Jason. He only sleeps in his nest which has Beyond Batlevel Security to keep them out.

Also, I can't decide. Would a healthier version of Damian and Jason stay away like Tim wants them to or would they go "no *fuck* your bastard excuses for Brothers we will teach you what it's like to actually trust and have us have your back."

Tim not seeking an answer or help is very angsty. He chose his emotional/mental health over his physical well being. Part of it may be him knowing how to navigate the murder attempts but not knowing how bringing this up would change the status quo (in possibly worse ways).

I like what you've added about Tim's instincts. A good milestone for that batfamily is if they find Tim napping on a window seat. This would be a huge show of trust by him and an indication that he feels safe.

I think a healthier version of them would give Tim space and communicate boundaries with him, but they would also try to bond with him.

For Damian, this is a lot of parallel bonding. The kid will find wherever Tim is in the Manor and sit in the same room with him doing something different (like drawing or doing his homework). It is an effective way for Tim to get used to his presence and stop seeing him as a threat. Of course, Tim is nervous or on edge the first 10 or so times this happens. Eventually, he starts to lower his guard enough that Damian can make a comment or two. They slowly work up to full conversations and Tim seeking out Damian's presence himself.

For Jason, he'd try to read in places near Tim as well. His main strategy, though, might be favors or gifts. He'd learn what foods Tim likes, what activities Tim wants/needs to do that Bruce won't let him (like sneaking out), and generally just helping Tim out in small ways. It at first freaks Tim out, but they work up to Tim himself asking Jason for favors.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #damian wayne #jason todd

76 notes · View notes

dawndelion-winery · 1 year

Text

I Can See You

Warning: suggestive, use of f-word (not the slur)

They get dressed up all nicely for you the spooky season (modern au)

Ft. Alhaitham, Childe, Kaeya, Kaveh, Scaramouche

Alhaitham:

He didn't really see a point in getting in costume just for candy

But you insisted, and who was he to refuse to accompany you?

He honestly wasn't very pleased

Until he found a few costume ideas people were posting about

If his boyfriend-material turtleneck sweaters weren't form fitting enough, the skintight latex suit he was getting definitely was

He had no business dressing up as batman, flaunting his ass and abs like that

Still, he told you not to worry, as he'd cover up

And by that he meant wearing a full on suit and tie over it

Suddenly you're not so keen on leaving the house and it's Alhaitham complaining about how you're not getting ready to go trick or treating

Not that he actually minds, of course, given how the fit that night was picked out with the sole intention of convincing you to forgo the candy raid

Childe:

He's nothing if not extra

Full on SFX make up and everything

He made the side of his mouth seem torn and basically doused himself in fake blood (he assured you it was fake)

Fake burns to top off his already existing scars?? It's like he was dressing up to be the victim of some monster attack

And of course, he had to rip up his clothes to really sell the look

Ajax tearing shirts wasn't something you knew you needed to see

Seeing the fabric pull apart with a shrrrppp sound and loose seams dangling over toned muscles littered with as many scars as freckles

They're all old wounds, but the fake blood reminds you of when some of them were fresh and you were helping him tend to them

As you subconsciously reach out to caress the side of his stomach where a nasty old gash was, you felt his warm hand over yours

Right, well, Ajax always was a touchy person, so he never had any qualms about you feeling him up now and then if anything he wished you would more often

It was a soft moment until he spoke up

"Want me to rip up your clothes too? Though they might not be able to stay on then."

Kaeya:

You only ever get one of two things with this man

He dresses cute, or he dresses slutty

And you not wearing the matching peacock onesie with him meant he was dressing slutty

Hence the Seele cosplay

But without the wig, so he looks mildly cursed

Boi really out here strutting with everything on display like goddamn all this for free???

It was not, in fact, free

If you're not getting handsy on him along the way, he's keeping his hands on you because frankly, how could you not give him any attention when he's dressed all "fancy" for you?

Hi please appreciate his hips or he's going to dislocate his pelvis trying to flaunt himself in front of you /hj

Kaveh:

He's putting way too much into an outfit he's only going to use once

And you know damn well he's going to then use that as an excuse to keep using the costume

I mean, does he really need to recreate a fully functional Iron Man suit???

According to him the answer was an obvious yes

Honestly you were just a teeny but disappointed because you wanted to see his face

Which wasn't as much of a problem as you'd anticipated because it got hot in there, so he'd pop out of the suit every so often

You'd never been more appreciative of white dress shirts

More specifically the white dress shirt he chose to wear into that portable mechanical sauna he'd made himself

Yeah, maybe he really should use that suit at every opportunity

Scaramouche:

If you find him hot in his costume, you are 100% a monster fucker

Like Ajax and Kaveh, he goes all out

Except instead of aiming for visual appeal, he's going straight for trying to traumatise children

I hope you're not scared of zombies because he's painted himself grey and made faux scarred tissue all over

On top of tearing his clothes, he's burnt parts of it, and the shirt was pretty much just a few strips of cloth at this point

Oh, you thought you were going to have your boyfriend shirtless all night?

Well yeah, but somehow with what seems to be massive chunks of flesh missing and ribs poking through

His pants were, unfortunately, intact for the most part, with the hems undone and a little scorched

10/10 decaying zombie, and he makes you go as a zombie hunter equipped with a flamethrower

Taglist:@ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyamori @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep @sadlonelybagel @mastering-procrastinating @lemeowade

224 notes · View notes

slocumjoe · 2 years

Text

Biggest complaints about each companion

Warning, reference to in-game dark subject matter.

This is subjective and mostly me wishing for a more thoughtful story, with themes beyond robot racism.

Cait: TDLR; Her backstory is too much for how it's handled

It feels like Cait got thrown every bad thing she could have. With trauma in characters, less is more, and in Cait's case, it doesn't help that her writing is more interested in her trauma than who she is as a person. Like Cait only matters as a character because of what she went through and what that demonstrates about the wasteland, rather being a person first.

I would like to point out, her parents waited until she was 18 to sell her. Because, apparently, age of consent matters to sex slavers. It demonstrates a lack of commitment to the dark topic, which usually means you should tone it down. Leave one aspect, and keep the other. Abusive parents or slavery, not both.

Since Cait is our only basegame raider companion, you could use her to humanize raiders by showing how the cycle of trauma creates them. "But Gage—" is a little bitch.

Codsworth: TDLR; Focuses too much on his pre-war relationship to the player

What was Codsworth doing those 200 years? Did he just hang out in Sanctuary? Did no one ever come to Sanctuary in the meantime? Codsworth has no relation to the plot or world beyond Sole.

I think Codsworth should have had a quest about how he went out and tried to help where he could, but now doesn't know where those people are, and wants to know what became of them. Something to give Codsworth a connection to the wasteland. Or maybe Codsworth shouldn't have been the Sole Surivor's robot at all, just one that wandered into Sanctuary and met them. Then you could have a point that the first human the Sole saw after freezing (Kellogg) was cruel, but the first 'soulless' machine was kind, which makes a point about the main plot and the idea that being human doesn't make you 'human.'

Curie: TDLR; Should have been related directly to the main plot

Curie is a robot that is put inside a synth—which is, biologically, completely human in all but a chip in their head and the circumstances of their creation—and is totally fine. She learns to breathe, gets thoughts and feelings in a way a Ms. Nanny wouldn't, and handles sensations without bricking.

Send this bitch to the Institute and BOS, are you kidding me? Curie is walking proof of synths being more than machines. She has wants, imagination, potentially even dreams and nightmares. This is never brought up by anyone.

Also, Curie is a robot, and then inhuman, but still a person, and she uses science and her compassion to help the wasteland, where those who would destroy or enslave her use it to further their own egos.

Danse: TDLR; MAKE HIM SAY SORRY TO NICK AND HANCOCK

Danse's real character arc starts at his final affinity post BB, and then it doesn't go anywhere. He never learns to accept himself, or synths, or ghouls. Danse is a character that shows the terrible function of 4 Affinity Talks, because he needs, like, 10 of the things.

Danse needed his likes/dislikes updated after BB, interactions with Nick and Hancock, and a proper character arc where he unlearns his worst traits and the BOS's bullshit.

Deacon: TDLR; Dead wife? Really?

Can Deacon not just be a goofball man who used to be a bigot, and now works hard to help the people he hurt? Because Barbara and her death implies that Deacon didn't change because it was the right thing to do, but because bigotry personally affected him.

If there must be a death, make it that his community tore itself apart trying to find synths among them. Y'know, like...a witch hunt? In Salem, maybe? Since we didn't do anything interesting with Salem, one of the most interesting places in the USA? Deacon sees this and sees that it doesn't matter if synths are human or not, hatred will inevitably hurt anyone, because it doesn't actually care who you are. Hatred doesn't need a reason, only a target. The Synth plot should have been an allegory for McCarthyism instead of slavery, change my mind.

Hancock: TDLR; He's a historical LARPER that doesn't do anything in terms of a narrative.

No, Todd. You can't make John Hancock a ghoul and call it an OC.

Hancock could have had a story about identity crisis, idolatry, and trying to escape your past. We also get hints at a complex political issue in Goodneighbor about the push-and-pull between the desire for total freedom/anarchy, but the need for some kind of law and order. Hancock has a casual friendliness, and acts like 'one of the people,' but he is the mayor. There's tension there. Can your leader be your friend? Can your friend call all the shots while still being on equal footing with you? Can you lead a group of people who look up to you as a hero, and still retain modesty and not subconsciously separate yourself?

I like Hancock, he's fun, he has a lot of interesting narrative stuff. But he doesn't do anything with it. It could have been a nice parallel with Elder Maxson, too.

MacCready: TDLR; Small inconsistencies + dude, go get your son???

Mac doesn't ever go back to Duncan, and Duncan never comes to the Commonwealth. I understand that the former is for game play reasons, but the latter feels like the writers forgot that Duncan exists.

MacCready has some issues with the likes/dislikes. I think they're mistakes instead of intended, but still. For example, in the Vault 81 quest. MacCready likes letting Austin die. He dislikes it if you give the cure.

There's also Sheffield, the soda addict in Diamond City. MacCready claims to have never seen someone with a sugar addiction, but Zip, from Little Lamplight, had an addiction.

Mac is mostly fine, aside from these inconsistencies. The Dead Wife thing sucks, but I allow it because it's pretty fundamental to his story, rather then being tacked on for sad points.

Nick: TDLR; Eddie Winter is a stupid bad guy with a stupid quest and Jenny Lands is a stupid tragic backstory

Eddie Winter being the first ghoul ever is mind-bogglingly bad. You're telling me that they made ghouls before the bombs? And even if they did, Winter couldn't be the first. How the fuck would anyone know that radiation makes you immortal if you do it right, otherwise?! So, that's a contradiction within an already contrived premise. And not only that, but he just. Leaves a bunch of holotapes with a number on the back, that make a code to the basement of his favorite sandwich shop, which just so happens to be on the same street Jenny gets fridged?

So, Eddie Winter (or one of his goons) was eating one day, looked out, saw the fiance of the detective hunting him and recognized her (????), shot her, and then presumably returned to his fucking sandwich??????

And then 2 centuries later, a clone of that detective somehow finds the holotapes, untouched, unmoved, still functioning and retaining the painted-on numbers. The numbers didn't...fade? Wipe off?

You can keep the concept of Nick wanted to finish something Pre-war Nick didn't get to, but this...this isn't it.

Like, Skinny Malone was right there. Maybe just Darla shows up when you free Nick, and then later Nick has to contend with Malone and the Triggermen in some grand conspiracy with Mayor MacDonough, Hancock, and Piper.

Preston: TDLR; The radiant quest mechanic fucked him over and his voice actor needed some retakes

The moment you get Radio Freedom, Preston should have stopped giving quests. Easy fix there. It would have saved him almost a decade of shitty memes.

The real problem with Preston is that his VA beefed it bad. I can quote some of his lines with perfect inflection because the VA just did it so poorly. X6-88's VA had to play a monotonous, little-emotion character, and he still nailed it and gave X6 a lot of personality and distinction. Preston sounds like a modded-in character. And Jon Gentry is a pretty good actor! He has a great live-action presence in his demo reels on IMDB. I think he just struggled to put his performance into his voice rather than his presence/body language, and they didn't let/have him do a retake.

Piper: TDLR; So much potential, so much failure. Piper is a shitty reporter, and that could have been a great opportunity to have commentary on the ethics of journalism.

Journalism is supposed to be a duty to the people. It has responsibilities and ethics that are very easily misunderstood or forgotten for the sake of the next article. A good journalist is not always accurate. An accurate journalist is not always kind. A kind journalist is not always good.

Piper is not a good journalist, because her writing is not informative, it isn't news or useful info. She writes about MacDonough being a synth—she's basically writing callout posts on her blog.

Piper is not an accurate journalist, because she never has evidence for this claim. She says MacDonough is a synth, that the Institute took the Survivor's baby even if the Survivor says no.

Piper is not a kind journalist, because she fearmongers and makes things worse for synths. She complains that no one believes or trusts her word, but the second thing you ever see in Diamond City is a man trying to kill his brother for fear he's been replaced.

This is all fine, if addressed and explored. But it isn't. Piper seems to be chasing the high of exposing authority, and both times, she's right. We, the player, know she's right because we find out later she is. Imagine if we didn't. Imagine that reveal scene never comes. Every issue of Publick Occurances is trying to start a witchhunt, and Piper doesn't notice that it's working.

So, let's make her arc about worrying about her sister.

X6-88: TDLR; BRUH HE HAS NOTHING

No backstory, no relationships with other characters, no quest, no character arc.

TODD. You had the chance to humanize the Institute, or at least show what it's like being an Institute synth that isn't free. And you, instead, put all that time into fucking KELLOGG. You think I give a fuck about KELLOGG? I don't even give a fuck about SHAUN.

🌠Honorable mentions🌠

Gage: Hypocrite that thinks becoming the problem is fixing the problem, also he has both eyes. What do you need an eyepatch for.

Strong: Bethesda Super Mutants suck shit. Y'know Erikson fron Far Harbor? Would rather have him.

Longfellow: Dead Wife Man. Again, would have preferred Erikson.

Dogmeat and Ada: Perfect, no notes.

Best companions are:

Dogmeat, for being doggy

Ada, for being robot lady

Preston, for being perfect aside from two technical, Doylist issues.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #piper wright #hancock #preston garvey #deacon #x6-88 #nick valentine #robert joseph maccready #old longfellow #i am SALTY ABOUT PIPER HOO BOY #like her articles genuinely suck #i will accept criticism on all of these EXCEPT PIPER #GIRL I LOVE YOU BUT GOD #GET A FUCKING BETA READER #IF I SUBMITTED THAT TO MY ENGLISH TEACHER I WOULD HAVE BEEN STRUNG UP IN CLASS AS A WARNING

689 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

RE: porn addiction discussion:

I've seen a lot of both breakups and divorces over that very thing in the past decade, Imo I don't think its reasonable to expect everyone who has seen a dissolving in their relationship due to the excessive pornography usage of one partner partner to just suck it up and get used to liking porn themselves, accept watching porn together as a replacement for their sex life, otherwise /they/ must be some non-communicative creep who just wants to use their partner like a dildo.

More and more chicks get pressured by guys into doing that. Or like the other asker said, acting out things from porn that they dont wanna do, and regret it/dont enjoy it. I think its less about ~protecting pristine sacred christian piv~ and more of an acknowledgement that its not realistic to expect the majority of sexual relationships to be able to healthily function like that as long as theres 'communication'.

Communication isn't the end all be all when there's only one clear party that this scenario benefits. The person with the broken dick. To promote the idea that they should, can and is be used against people who don't want that for themselves or their relationship, under the guise that if their boundaries are firm they must be some flavor of "sex negative/christian/radfem/prude"

There's nuance to the topic. People with the same level of porn usage can be happy together, engage in their kinks mutually, all that jazz. But there are also an increasing number of relationships where a dude uses porn and sex-positive language to pressure chicks into doing things they dont want to, having the kind of sex life that they dont want to, which becomes a slippery slope. Or a dude gets so into porn that hes leaving it open on his computer for their kids to see in an exhibitionist sort of way, completely disregarding welfare.

And I don't mean that as any sort of hyperbole or rhetoric, that example happened with my own Dad. Lemme tell you, your father leaving open pages and pages of anorexic amputee torture porn on the family computer that you, as an 8 year old girl, have to rush to close before your younger siblings come in the door after you home from school, will have an impact on both that relationship and ones level of comfort with porn longterm.

And even then, I still got into relationship after relationship once I was old enough, where guys were constantly wanting to replace sex with watching porn with them, and when we did have sex they always wanted to 'try something they saw' rather than just have fun doing something mutually enjoyable and intuitive. Partners sneaking off at my 15 year old sisters birthday party to jack off to 'teen porn' in the bathroom, leaving home for work early just to jack off in a gas station parking lot for 2 hours, watching porn in bed next to me when I have to get up for work soon, being unable to maintain an erection without porn-related stimuli (be it watching or scenarios), spiraling into cheating, etc. Years and years of sex positivity, attempts at understanding, experimenting, and accommodating, and communication on my end didn't help, until that communication was "I can't keep trying to salvage this by myself anymore, I'd be happier alone."

Not everyone is going to be down with it, or should push themselves to be, and not all reasons for not wanting that for your own sex life are rooted in some Christian or Radfem rhetoric. Lived experience plays a role in such stances. Strong boundaries can be hard to build when there's pressure in both the bedroom and outside world that the ones you have are 'wrong', but it's worth it to stand up for ones own comfort, security, and happiness rather than endlessly accommodating.

Personally, I'm overjoyed to have now found a longterm relationship now where the furthest extent of that either partner engages with is fanfic and lewd art. I wish everyone the same luck in finding a partner that has compatible desires.

~broken dick~

Oh please.

This kind of discussion is obsessed with "porn" meaning mainstream live action porn aimed at straight guys and with the kind of dumbass men who think that stuff is a model to emulate. In reality, there are shittons of types of porn. People who pressure their partners suck regardless of why.

These experiences sound shitty, but I'm still rolling my eyes at this spin.

48 notes · View notes

notfinancialadvice · 2 years

Text

How I Built an Emergency Fund, inspiration I deeply hope is helpful

As the blog URL says, this is not financial advice. This is how I did this thing, and I am posting it here, publicly, in hopes that it helps you should you need this information.

In short: Remix this advice to what fits your life + do not sue me if this goes poorly for you. This is for Americans, if you do not live in America and/or your money is not in America, I hope this is a useful base.

None of these links are affiliate links.

I write these things as a mental shift. I like to ramble and I wish I had someone tell me this stuff 20+ years ago. I'm hoping this helps you.

This is an incredibly long post so I'm putting it under a KEEP READING.

This post goes over two stages: "short term + not life-or-death" and "long term + actual life or death"

Part 01: SHORT TERM + NOT LIFE-OR-DEATH FUND

You need to find a high yield savings account that is FDIC insured. Ally is a popular bank for this.

Functionally, the only difference between a "high yield savings account" and "savings account" from the giant conglomerate bank down the street is the interest rate.

I do not know why non-high-yield savings accounts exist. I'm guessing because legally they can, and I hate it.

Moving away from my personal socioeconomic views to return to advice.

"FDIC insured" is not something you pay for. It is nearly universal on savings accounts. If a savings account, or a checking account, does NOT have it, then you should not put your money there. Something is wrong with that bank.

FDIC means if your bank goes out of business, your account is insured up to $250,000, per account, by the government. So if your bank goes out of business, the government makes sure you still have your cash (up to $250k).

A high-yield savings account means your cash is available whenever you need it.

Other products, like CDs, exist, but this ramble is designed to be as simple and starter as possible. Begin with a high yield savings account, build up from there as you do your own research + compare this to your needs.

Do not accept an account that has minimum balances. Do not open an account with monthly fees.

Touch this account as little as possible.

For every $1 you put in, every month, a few pennies will materialize. It's not much, but the main point is at every level, your money works for you.

Rich people do this. You can too.

Touch this account as little as possible.

You can have multiple savings accounts.

I personally have a savings account in the above structure designed for "oh hell I am kinda screwed, but will be okay, just need a buffer."

"How much should I have in there?" you might ask. Common advice says "3-6 months expenses" which is a lot. I say "start with literally $1 and continue as you can until comfortable with what is possible, for you, at this time."

Will $1 make you rich? No.

Will it save your life in a bad situation? Probably not.

Does this $1 essentially become a tiny robot that is making you money for as long as it is docked into its cargo bay? ...weird metaphor but we'll go with it, sure.

Ultimately is it a start? Yes.

You can have multiple savings accounts. You can have a savings account "this is for short term emergencies" and "this is for... slightly less short term" etc.

It costs you nothing to have multiple. They all operate in the same way. It's handy to have them all at the same bank because it can make transferring cash easier.

Part 02: LONG TERM + ACTUAL LIFE-OR-DEATH FUND WITH RISK SO BE CAREFUL

Once you have your savings account set up, and it's being funded on a regular basis (every week, every paycheck, every month, every quarter -- whatever works for you), look into creating a second, bigger, more dangerous-term cash reserve.

I like my Roth IRA. This is a link to a proper finance blog that has a lot of details. I am trying to make this handy/simple to get started.

401ks and (non-Roth) IRAs are funded with pre-tax dollars, frequently in conjunction with your job.

Normally, cash goes from job -> government takes a slice -> you.

Pre-tax retirement accounts, cash goes from job -> retirement takes the percentage you decide -> government takes a slice of what is left -> you

Roth IRAs, job -> government takes a slice -> you -> Roth IRA

The benefit to pre-tax retirement accounts being, because the cash going in is pre-tax, there is more of it.

It can grow faster in the stock market or other places your particular fund allows you to put cash into.

The taxes come out when you withdraw -- usually retirement -- because if you withdraw before you retire, you are heavily penalized with extra fees.

That's why Part 02 is a ROTH IRA. Your money has already been taxed -- job -> government's slice -> you -> Roth IRA.

This means the money is yours, already taxed. If you withdraw the gains, those get taxed, but the base, that's yours.

If you invest $100 and it grows to $105, you can withdraw $100 without paying fees or taxes. If you withdraw that extra $5, that is when taxes start to come into play. If you withdraw $100, and leave the $5, the $5 continues to grow, and that extra growth is taxed if withdrawn. So try not to touch it (ideally you leave all of it until retirement).

This is why this is an emergency, life-or-death only, account. You tap it only when you need to when all other choices are wretched and ruinous.

There is an annual limit as to how much money you can put into a Roth IRA (several thousand bucks).

You can start them very small. Like $20 or maybe less.

Look for a bank or institution that does not charge fees to open and maintain one.

AT EVERY STEP YOU SHOULD BE AVOIDING FEES

Here are smart people talking about ideas on how to get started.

Okay, so, what do we do now with this fancy roth thing.

Here is where things get... uncomfortable.

A Roth IRA is an account type.

You need to do something with your money.

The reason you have this in addition to, and secondary to, your high-yield savings account is because this is an investment vehicle, the balance is going to go up and down, and may reach $0.00.

For my Roth IRA, I like "exchange traded funds" -- ETFs.

There are a lot of options -- you can invest in most anything

Because my Roth IRA is built for "help me I'm dying" emergencies, I invest in a mix of S&P 500 index funds and small-cap funds.

SO MANY WORDS.

Let's break this down what this means.

S&P 500 index funds: This is an index fund of giant, giant, giant companies.

An index fund is like a stock. But instead of a single company, it tracks (owns shares of) an index -- like the DOW or Nasdaq. Or countries. Or... the entire market for oil. Etc.

The metaphor isn't completely accurate, but I like to think of it as "an index fund is a company that owns tiny bits of other companies."

Like, okay, say you have SlimeIndexFund and a share price is $40.

In this example, SlimeIndexFund owns $10 worth of "BardCo" and $10 of "ThiefCo" and $10 of "MermaidCo" and $10 of "EvilCo".

Let's say EvilCo does a lot of evil and is now worth $15, and MermaidCo does a lot of mermaid stuff and is now worth $15, and BardCo sings out of tune so is now worth $5. ThiefCo is oddly at the same $10 but we're scared so we're leaving ThiefCo to stay at $10.

A share in SlimeIndexFund is now worth $45. ($5 BardCo + $10 ThiefCo + $15 EvilCo + $15 MermaidCo)

This is diversification

Because I bought an index fund, instead of just buying BardCo, my risk is less.

Had I bought all MermaidCo, my return would be higher -- but this is a much bigger risk.

The entire purpose of this set up of a Roth IRA is TO MINIMIZE RISK.

Your Roth IRA should allow you to buy "fractional shares" and if it doesn't fuck that bank, go somewhere that does.

In the above example, SlimeIndexFund is $40/share and at that price you are getting the full benefit of 1 share.

Let's say you have $10.

You buy a fractional share of SlimeIndexFund for $10, which is 25% of 1 share.

So when SlimeIndexFund shares raise from $40 -> $45, your fractional share goes from $10 -> $12.50.

Not all funds and stock shares (etc) have fractional shares, most do.

It's a great way to start and build.

Small-cap funds: These operate in literally the same way. The difference is the companies are (in comparison) much smaller. They tend to be more nimble.

So I am diversifying between "here is a fund, it has a lot of large companies" and "here is a fund, it has a lot of small companies."

Let's say Big Office Building real estate goes down, but the sale of Small Company Making waffles goes up. This mixes together and I'm less in danger of losing money, or losing much money.

You can pick individual stocks.

The reason it is not recommended, by nearly everyone, is because the market has incredible tools and power over individual stocks.

By using any kind of fund that bundles things together, you are thereby automatically using these tools by proxy

It is critical to understand this is the stock market. Your account will go up and down. It may go down A LOT, like 25%, and take years to recover. Maybe it goes down 100% to literally $0.00.

That's why this is the LAST RESORT EMERGENCY FUND.

So why are we doing this.

This feels... wrong?

The potential for growth is significantly higher than a savings account. Adjusted for inflation, somewhere in between 6-7%.

At this rate, if you can leave your initial deposit alone for somewhere between 10 - 13 years, it has doubled.

This equation recalculates every time you make a deposit. So if you can deposit $20 every pay check, it has the potential to grow very quickly.

As above, this is the stock market, so it can also get wiped out.

But given the stock market has historically always recovered, though it may take several years, the risk is worth it to me + a lot of other people.

The reason this is built as a last-resort cash bucket is because of this risk. Before moving into this arena, you should have other cash buckets as a buffer.

Your RISK is it goes down. Which it will frequently.

Your REWARD is if it goes up. Which historically it has far more than it went down.

The PURPOSE of using funds as described above is so you don't have try to guess who the next Amazon is and wind up picking the next Pets.com (which went out of business, like, a long... long time ago).

The people making the funds figure out who is Amazon and who is Pets.com and work, day and night, to make your money grow and/or protect it when outside influences are hurting the market.

They are incredibly equipped to do this and their literal livelihood is on the line when they do it poorly.

Which is a polite way of saying, they are continuously incentivized above all else to work for the fund you're investing in.

The reason you're doing this in a Roth IRA specifically is you're hoping to keep as much of it intact, as possible, until you retire, at which point -- if you've followed fairly simple rules -- you withdraw the base and gains tax-free.

Whereas money in a normal stock account? Those gains are taxable every year.

"I have literally $20 I can save per pay check! Can I put in $15 into a high-yield savings account and $5 into a Roth IRA to get started?!"

Yes!

Also, congrats! You're diversifying already!

Your Roth IRA broker should allow you to invest a minimum of $1 at a time, and buy fractional shares. If they don't, don't sign up with them!

Lean heavily into your high-yield savings account until that is very comfortable and thick, then push money into the Roth IRA.

Your goal is to build a system that works for you -- both literally (money working for you) and emotionally ("this is comfortable")

"Should I pay off debt before proceeding? A lot of people say to pay off excess debt first."

This is up to you.

Most financial blogs etc. do say "focus on paying off debt first" -- it's good advice, your returns are risk-free and permanent, since the lower your debt is, the less you have to pay over time.

Interest -- working for you or against you -- is continuous and eternal.

Personally, I like to diversify everything, so I not-financial-advice ramble "do all three -- pay down debt, throw a little cash into a high-yield savings, throw a little cash into a Roth IRA"

The problem with "pay off debt first" is that it misses out any occasional giant gains the stock market makes (Roth IRA) and introduces the risk of "I have paid this credit card on time for 5 years, I'm short on change for 3 months due to a situation that gets resolved quickly, and now I have a late payment fee, and a higher interest rate."

Look at your life, finances, and potential future and make decisions!

And also:

Always be on the look out for deals with banks. Sign up bonuses, referral links from friends, etc. Think of it as a money sale.

If you are not comfortable with the idea of a Roth IRA hitting $0.00 potentially, do not do step 02. These are ideas, not directives.

All financial tools can be used for different purposes. All of them. Thus -- these are ideas, not directives.

I am listing a few examples of banks, funds, etc. These are not recommendations nor are they affiliate links. They are listed because I want to maximize your start on this path, but caution, in strongest possible terms, you must do your own research and figure out what makes sense for you.

There are a lot of nuances I am paving over for the sake of simplicity, which is why I am continually saying...

...c'mon say it with me...

...you must do your own research before continuing

Smart, free sites that cover this + a lot of other stuff:

NerdWallet

Bank Rate

One final note about Roth IRAs:

Robinhood currently is offering a 1% match on an IRA. Considering the strict limits of how much an IRA can intake per year, it's not much, but it doesn't cost you anything. Money on sale!

As a final note -- always feel comfortable asking people handling your money for help. They are working for you. Your money works FOR YOU.

If you are uncomfortable, leave, immediately, without concern.

At the retail level, there are hundreds of banks and financial institutions clamoring for your business. If someone makes you uncomfortable for not knowing something, or getting a term wrong, or asking "too many" questions -- go somewhere else.

It doesn't matter if your account is literally worth $20.

They are working for you.

This is a business transaction, and if they make you feel like your time isn't worth their business, I promise you there is someone else who will gladly take care of you.

I end with -- whenever someone is giving you financial advice, always ask why. It helps ensure they aren't scamming you, it's just a good business practice.

I like to ramble, it helps me mentally

I like to be useful, I want the world to be significantly more balanced in terms of who is doing okay

I like to write, this is all good practice for me in doing Various Other Things I do

I fucking hate predatory financial practices. I was gatekept out of financial literacy for decades and so every time I help someone else figure out how to set up their own life and protect themselves it is a giant "fuck you" to the systems and directly to the people who stood in my way.

#money #financial literacy #aging tumblr population #aging tumblr #build wealth #finances #money blog

567 notes · View notes