#it would look i fall for every health scam

[mykoreanlove]

whispers of love

Felix was snuggled in bed with you, hugging you from behind. The smell of his favorite brownies still lingered on him, almost as sweet as his kisses on you. You squirmed in his embrace as his lips tickled the sensitive skin on your neck. “Lixie, stop that”, you laughed warmly. “Hell no”, he retorted and kissed you some more. The sensations were too much to bear, so you wriggled yourself out of his embrace and turned to face him directly.

“Hi”, he said and placed a kiss on the top of your nose. A warmth you had never felt before spread through your whole body. You relaxed, smiled some more and looked at him. This was your first time being with someone who saw all of you and decided to stay. Being with Felix made your heart flutter in the best ways and that was something you were grateful for every single day.

“You look so beautiful right now, baby cakes.” He gazed at you with a mixture of longing and infatuation. Felix grabbed your hand and positioned it to his lips, placing a chest kiss on your knuckles. “There is something I want to say to you, y/n. Actually, I already said it a lot of times, but you were always asleep, so now’s the moment.” He paused for a second, carefully selecting his next words.

“I love you.”

Butterflies were joined by all other animals as well, turning your stomach into a zoo. Your heart raced. Your brain thought a thousand thoughts per second. Your throat was dry.

“Love? You love me?”

Felix chuckled; he had already anticipated that reaction. No matter how much he tried and showed his love for you, you still had trouble accepting it. “Yes, love. I love you.”

“But” your brain instantly presented a myriad of reasons as to why he shouldn’t do that. “But, how? I am just a normal person.”

For a split second you noticed him scrunch his face. He hated it when you talked down on yourself. He hated it when you thought less of yourself because of the dumbest reasons. He hated it when you hated yourself. By now he understood though, that arguing against you was fruitless – this was a journey you had to go on by yourself. Felix chose to stand by your side and hold your hand though.

“Don’t care. I love you.”

“But I’m not in the best shape right now.” He placed another kiss on your knuckles. “I love you.”

“Felix, what do you mean? I am a mess. I have anxiety every other day.” He squeezed your hand. “I still love you.”

You turned on your back and thought about all this while he was still holding your hand. How could he love me when I’m not perfect?

You thought hard, you had to present him with all the facts, so he could make a rational decision. Eagerly, you turned around again.

“Lix, I have health struggles.”

“Don’t care. I love you.”

“But I always assume the worst and get anxious.”

“I love you regardless.”

“But I.. I have debt I need to pay off!”

“Fine by me. I love you.”

Your brain fought hard. Surely, there had to be a reason that would scare him off.

“I got scammed once because I trusted those assholes blindly.”

“I love you.”

“I was bullied when I was younger. I was never a cool kid!”

“I love you.”

“It’s hard for me to control my emotions and I get overwhelmed a lot.”

“Still love you.”

“I got rejected a million of times – I’m really not the one you fall in love with.

Felix took a deep breath, trying to remain calm for the both of you.

“I love you, y/n.”

“But” – he interrupted you this time.

“I love you. You can think of every reason, you could invent any reason – I don’t care. I. LOVE. YOU. All of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. I love you.”

He stopped talking for a second and gave you time to process all of this. The confusion on your face was evident, which irked him but he was sure that someday you’d be able to love yourself like he did.

You took a good look at him – everything he said sounded so sincere. The look on his face was truthful and loving.

“Are you sure?”, you mumbled silently. Felix laughed out happily. “Yes, y/n. I am sure. I love you. I loved you yesterday and I will love you tomorrow. Now turn around and let me cuddle you, so we can fall asleep. Okay?”

Happiness and astonishment were dominant within you right now but you did what he said. You turned around and felt his strong arms around you again, comforting you like they always did. You closed your eyes and took a calming breath, you really needed to sleep. Felix’ lips brushed your ear once more and you fell asleep to him whispering his love for you.

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon ||

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 873

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 3:

THE MOON

I sat on my chair, legs crossed and seeing Mr. Parfez all beaten up, nose damaged and a severe cut on his legs. As far as I could count, my men stabbed him twenty-eight times on his thigh, used a knife and cut his cheeks—making his smile much wider and disturbing. Blood all over the tiles and how he is pleading for his life. Cigarette in hand, I puff out a smoke and stood up, using the end of my shoe—I lift his chin up.

Holy shit he looks horrible, this would be very horrifying for my girl.

I puff out another smoke and tilt my head to the side, his eyes met mine and I tap an excess cigar on him, he yells in pain and I push my remaining cigar into his eyes as he bleeds out in my hand—he tried to back out, lift my feet up and step on his chest to make him fall back in to the cold tile full of his blood. His screams can be heard in every corner of this fucking torture chamber of a room. I love how it’s also soundproof, no one can hear his cries for help and how much he pleads for mercy.

But I show neither sympathy nor mercy.

This if the price he must pay after making a fool out of myself, after scamming and breaking our contract like that. He fucking deserves it.

After pushing my remaining cigar to his eyes, he neither moves or struggles. He was dead, I killed him and I don’t feel a thing.

I stood up, and oh my fucking god. Blood all over my attire, fuck!

“Clean this up, and if you all fucked up cleaning this corpse, you all will ended up dead like him.” I snapped and they started moving.

Snapping my finger and one of my men came to me, “Report.” I spoke, he has a mullet cut and ash blonde hair, his tone flat as he speaks, he tells me her full name first and I smiled wickedly.

A beautiful name equals to a beautiful lady.

“She just recently graduated college and with her and her friends family support, they put up a café. She also has two siblings, she’s the middle child.” He reported, his tone loud and clear. I gave him a nod as he handed a file to me, I flip and turn pages full of her personal background.

Her birthday, her hobbies, favorite colors, pets, names of family members, her exes, what degree she graduated, who are her enemies, and more. A picture of her when she’s a child captured my attention, my fingers glide to it as if I were caressing a little girl that grown to be a wonderful and carefree woman.

Too bad she wouldn’t be carefree when she discover who I am.

Hacking one of her cameras are too easy, her surveillance in the café and her own home. She lives in a butt-fuck nowhere where forest surrounds her house. In her papers, it said that she has deep love for nature and how the smell of the leaves brings comfort to her.

Naughty girl, doesn’t she know that many people had gone missing because of houses like this? Tortured, raped, harassed, and more. Tsk, tsk, luckily she’ll have my protection every now and then. I don’t want someone lying their hands on my girl, no one.

There she is, lying on her bed with phone in hand—she doesn’t know that I’m watching her. Why did she install a camera in her bedroom? I laugh on how oblivious she is, hackers can easily hack her cameras then they either can sell her or their footage on the dark web.

I see her, in only in her thongs and fitted shirt, she walks around almost naked in her own home—well, she is surrounded by the green trees, no one can see her—she thought she is free exposing herself in just thongs.

My eyes lingers on the screen, I could feel my cock twitch and throb under the fabric of my pants. How it begs to be buried deep in her pussy, how much I want to penetrate her—to fuck her senseless.

Lost in wild thoughts, a voice came into my small earpiece, “Sir?” it called, I turn away from my computer screen, lean back and light up a cigar.

“speak.”

“I have reports on the missing children, and a leaked video.” He spoke, my attention snatched and my body stiffen, “leaked video?” I repeated and he confirms.

“These fuckers are sick in the head, even targeting helpless women aren’t enough.” I curse under my breath, my blood boils knowing that they even target little kids.

Sick wild motherfuckers.

“There is also an update for sir Niro, would you like me to send it to you?” he asked, I sigh and clenched the light up cigarette in my hand. It burns but it didn’t hurt I have my gloves on.

I nod and turn back to my computer screen, I nodded and have my mind relax when I see her lovely face in the screen, checking the surveillance.

I should probably keep my distance… for now.

Link:

Chapter 4: THE SUN

[dreaming-in-seams]

Y’all know the sick cat scam going around on tumblr? I’ve seen a lot of advice —good advice!— on how to not fall for one of those scams

But

I also know a lot of my mutuals are good people with big hearts who easily feel guilt-tripped into believing someone’s seemingly heart-felt story.

So idk if my two-cents are any help, but as a veterinary receptionist I think I have a solution on how to approach a convincing“Sick Cat” plea:

Offer to make a donation on their behalf directly to the vet clinic!

Idk about every vet clinic around the world, but I know amongst the many clinics I have worked for/with, none of them would EVER turn down an anonymous donation to someone’s account for their sick pet! I take many of those calls. We LOVE them! Any money towards helping a pet get better is welcome money. I’ve taken $5 donations, $50, $1000 —I even dropped in a $20 from our spare change bucket once.

Think about it: the vet clinic doesn’t want this animal to suffer. But they also can’t do a procedure or treatment for free because they have hard working employees to pay, and veterinary care (in the US) is privatized (it’s the sorry reality but until HUMAN health care improves, animal health care just is where it is in this country)

Does the vet clinic care where the money for the procedure is coming from? NO. They don’t care if it’s your grandma’s credit card, $6000 in cash, or a bunch of random people calling to put $10-100 dollars on some random person’s account. Money is money to an office manager, and whatever is there to cover expenses for a sick animal is a weight off EVERYONE’S shoulders. (I may just be a receptionist, but even receptionists hurt when an animal passes away.)

So. If you have someone on your dash or in your inbox asking you to donate money to their Venmo or PayPal for their sick cat/dog/ferret, and you really don’t know if it’s legitimate but don’t want to blow them off in case it is…

Ask them the name of their vet. Look it up on google. And call.

The receptionist will ask for the owner’s last name and the pet’s name. If the “owner” is legitimate, they probably will give you some identifying information for the pet or the account. If they don’t want to (for internet safety) there are ways for the receptionist to narrow it down. I.e. the procedure, age of the animal, when their last appointment was, their doctor. And especially if it’s a pricey procedure that the owner has had difficulty finding funds for, SOMEONE at the clinic will know!! If the person in your inbox is legitimate, then they will probably WELCOME you calling their vet to make a donation!

(Tbh, if people call to donate for an animal, it makes a stronger case for the vet to cut costs on the procedure because it PROVES the owner is making a sincere effort to pay)

DON’T just take the phone number of the vet from the person asking for money without verifying it. The phone number could be theirs or a friend who is just gonna take your card info and run off happily into the sunset with it. Verify (via the internet) that the vet is real. If the info they gave you about their sick pet checks out on the vet’s end as all being true, DING DING DING it’s not a scam!!! Donate away!!!

But if it IS a scam, the scammer will probably try to convince you it’s easier to give money to their Venmo (it’s not), or that their vet doesn’t take donations (they do). If they are avoiding this option, and the other signs of scam hold up, then block them and walk away.

TLDR: if you’re not sure if it’s a “Sick Cat” scam, offer to call their vet and make a donation!

[opinated-user]

I wonder what would happen if one of Lily's stans or one close to them turned out to have the Big C themselves and learned first hand every single way she blatantly lied about allegedly having it.

No it shouldn't have to happen, nor do I want that: it's that I fully expect Lily would be a callous bitch about it and we'd have yet another ex-fan who had to learn her true colors the long and hard way.

she's already so very callous about it. if you happened to have LO as your role model for what surviving cancer looks like, you'd come out thinking that: -cancer and/or chemotherapy shouldn't have to interfere with your work.

-cancer and/or chemo doesn't make your hair fall out (probably because of especial native genes) -cancer and/or chemo in general is barely an inconvenience.

-financially speaking, managing cancer in a country that has universal healthcare is easy, minimal even.

-cancer and/or chemo has no impact in your daily routine.

-cancer and/or chemo has no further lasting impact in your overall health.

-cancer and/or chemo are easy to mask. -not having health insurance means nothing and doesn't affect anything because it's all about dental work only anyway. all of this is bad already, but then when they see actual cancer survivors or people going through treatment they'll think. -they aren't working because they're lazy. look at LO, she kept working, streaming, editing and recording videos while on chemo!

-their hair fall out because they didn't took proper care of it (or lacked especial native genes).

-if they let cancer intervene with their life, it's their fault.

-they don't need financial support and/or those that claim they do in Canada or similar countries are lying, therefore wanting to scam strangers online! look at LO, whose expenses were "minimal" and never needed any financial help despite being such a low tier youtuber!

-if they can't manage to continue on their life as usual while on treatment, they need to work on that and stop complaining. this will also affect the people suffering the cancer, because seeing "public figures" like LO treating her illness in this way will makes them feel like they're doing something wrong, are especially weak or should keep pushing even well beyond their limits. if LO could do it, why couldn't they? this is the reason why i'll never stop bringing up how harmful and amoral this particular lie is, worse than so many others. as it is people don't tend to be educated on cancer unless it touches them personally, so LO has an influence on their perception of it and it will be a terrible one. it doesn't matter if LO tries to say "well, i was extremely lucky" or "i'm not like other cancer survivors", it doesn't even matter if she tries to give attention to actual cancer survivors who do need help. the damage is already done.

[fereldanwench]

just some somewhat vague personal life ramblings under le cut:

(cw for mental health stuff) ((im okay now but i definitely wasn't lmao))

i had a really good talk with my brother last week--we were seriously on the phone for almost 4 hours--and I'm not gonna get into most of the specifics, but it was very enlightening and validating on some lifelong struggles we both dealt with in our family and how that's impacted us as adults. (although i think they impacted me more as the oldest daughter.)

more specifically, i did talk a lot about how i was fucking miserable last fall, and i knew i was miserable in the moment, but i don't think i did fully realize to what extent. i just could not dig myself out of the mental hole, and every time i tried, it just felt like quicksand--struggling to get out just made me feel like i was sinking deeper. yanno. classic depression shit.

and a lot of it is related to my professional life. tl;dr - last spring i had to go back to a job i hate because i couldn't find anything else and my husband was about to lose his job at the time, and it's almost been a year and i'm still getting fucked over by being in this psuedo-manager position while i am not being paid for it despite ten months worth of meetings trying to rectify this.

i wanted (still want) out so bad, but i couldn't even update my resume or look at job listings without just completely spiraling. the job-hunting process just felt... worse than being employed at a job i hate, i guess. not feeling like i could find a good match, the stupid corporate lingo in listings, easy applies not actually being easy, recruiters who never actually read my resume, dehumanizing interviews, straight-up scams--i couldn't fucking do it.

and on top of that, i had to carry me and the husband financially for about half a year. i don't want to rehash all that, but suffice to say i just felt like everything was on me, and i had no one to turn to for anything. he did find something that ended up being a really good fit, and he's been working for about 4.5 months now, which did help my mental state a lot. but even that took a while to mend those particular struggles.

but i think having an honest, empathetic conversation about all of this was really what i needed to move forward. i had just been burying so much of this deep down for so long that i was just never in the right mental place to actually fucking deal with it and move on.

and then last night i just got a burst of motivation and finally updated my resume, and i didn't even feel the urge to cry, lmao. not once. still wish evil things on people who write job listings but baby steps.

however, i'm actually not in a huge rush at this exact moment to leave my current job despite my many grievances--we don't get vacation leave until at least a year of employment, so i have to wait until this may to get a whopping two weeks of paid leave. i can stick out another two months for that.

i would like to be out by the end of this summer at the latest, though, and i would l like to not have to rush into another job that'll end up fucking me over one way or another. so i definitely need to start the process now.

and it's basically spring here! i got my little porch garden going yesterday which is like an automatic mental boost. loving the sunshine and warm, but not stiflingly hot, afternoons 💐☀️🌿

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

I’m still so torn

Had therapy today. My therapist has been so amazing and I’m really glad I have her to process with. I really can’t afford it…but I also don’t think I can afford to not afford it especially now that my medication is up in the air. I definitely can’t afford the appointments with how the insurance policy changed with the psychiatrist.

Today we talked a lot about grad school and parental pressure, guilt, shame, and burden (all relating to my parents). Talked about life coaching.

I may finish out this semester of grad school and take a break, try out life coaching. I don’t know.

There is zero reason why I couldn’t be a life coach and market myself. I think I’d invest In a course if I found it to be a good fit. The industry has zero regulations which is what puts me off of it. There’s more protection in having my LCSW I think. Both need insurance on yourself tho I believe. The only difference I see that makes a big difference is that there’s no life coach data base (that I know of) like therapists have on psychologytoday[dot]com.

I really don’t think there is anything I will learn in grad school that I don’t already know or can’t learn. A lot of places continued doing free webinars after Covid, and I regularly attend trainings, listen to podcasts, read articles about things that help me as a social worker.

I know I have to “play the game” because everyone wants to see that piece of paper that proves you know what you know. But I don’t need that for life coaching. I have the experience and I have the bachelor level degree backing me up.

I’m good with social media when I put the time into it and I’d probably market via social media. I’m sure I can create a strategy that makes me stand out.

There is fear in the unknown though. The what if’s. What if life coaching doesn’t work out. What if it isn’t going to help me toward retirement. But I still have the bachelor degree and experience to demand higher pay.

I would take a break from grad school in January. I’d Like to take on some “clients” to help with finances and career coaching as I think there would be people willing in my adhd Facebook group. Small fee. Test the waters. If I find that it’s doable, that I like it, that I feel competent, then look into training for it (again, it’s an unregulated field. I’m just looking for a program that will guide me with structure that isn’t a scam). And probably wouldn’t continue grad school.

I’m miserable. My therapist said I have a lot of “grit” especially for someone that doesn’t even want to do what I’m doing. My motivation is the fear of disappointing my parents yet again. My motivation is fear of the unknown. But I am not happy right now. 16 months isn’t a long time in the perspective of a whole life, but 16 months is a long time to feel absolutely miserable. To resent every hour I put in to this work. To resent every hour it takes away from M or things I enjoy doing. For what? I don’t even know that I wanna be clinically licensed…I don’t want to diagnose. I barely want to be a therapist anymore. I don’t want an admin or supervisory role.

Idk when I started caring so much about what my parents think. I was never afraid to rebel in the past. To go my own way.

I think now maybe it’s just that I am holding the shreds of our former relationship, I am actively watching my relationship with my parents fall apart. Because I couldn’t play the good Christian girl anymore- someone I never was. A role that caused me nothing but grief and shame and depression.

I am proud of the person I’ve grown into, the only thing I’d change is my mental health. And so much of my mental health challenges come from trying to be this perfect person that I am not.

I don’t think anything is gonna save my relationship with my parents at this point. They wholeheartedly believe I am going to hell unless I repent of my sexuality. Anything else in comparison to that is still failure in their eyes.

No matter how hard I work, they will still see me as the gay daughter who’s sleeping with the wrong genitalia. If I finish grad school or drop out, I am still marrying M, I am still starting a family with him. So why should any of this matter? I will never make them as happy as they want me to make them.

[dragontatoes]

so I knew in theory why people with chronic health issues tend to fall into pyramid schemes, scams, and anything that preys on addiction, but I get it a lot more now that I’ve experienced chronic pain. I understand the need to try anything that might possibly make it go away, even temporarily, even at risk of losing money, friends, family, more of your health. If you can’t think of anything all day except how much being in your body sucks, it’s hard to care about any of that when an ad for even the most obvious snake oil pops up on facebook. If I was still too tired and in too much pain to walk for more than a minute, like I was a couple months ago, I absolutely would end up trying whatever bullshit supplement I thought looked the least risky compared to the others. I’d try stuff I was almost certain wouldn’t work. Just for the chance. And it makes me even angrier at scams specifically targeting disabled/chronically ill people. Every cure-all diet protocol, every supplement that lies on its labelling, the lifecoaches that promise to cure your condition if you buy their whatever, and also pharmaceuticals and shitty health practitioners of all kinds that make you feel even worse.

It’s one thing when a relatively healthy person wants to lose a little weight and buys some slimfast shakes that don’t do anything, it’s another when somebody is in daily agony looking anywhere they can for some help, and get scammed over and over and over and over and over and over

[sunmaylight]

((I’m in the FGO trend & slowly falling back into LCF Got to finish reading PART 1, so new idea time.))

I feel like if KRS!Cale ends up as Chaldea’s Master, we will have the self-sacrificial idiot but with a whole army of people who care about his health. Moreso if every character that has interacted with Cale or Choi Han for more than a chapter from LCF is summoned as a Servant.

Except for Raon Miru. That dragon appeared at Chaldea after KRS!Cale did something at Singularity F & hasn’t left his side since. He doesn’t register as a Servant, so the staff at Chaldea just categorize him with Fou; Strange Beast from Who Knows Where Please don’t be from the Root. We can’t deal with that political mess

----

Brainrot Scenario:

KRS!Cale: Mash, can I see your shield?

Mash: ??? Of course, Senpai/Oppa. But what do you need it- CALE NO!

KRS!Cale: Runs off with Mash’s shield to protect the other Servants with his newly acquired shield.

----

Twitter Alt

(Bit of LCF Spoilers below)

Dr. Romani would physically strap him to a bed for him to not sacrifice himself for the Servants WHO CAN BE RESUMMONED IN CHALDEA AS LONG AS THEIR PLATE SAINT GRAPH IS NOT BROKEN (Looking at Cale’s Plate from where I left of in the novel)

When Nightingale is summoned, she will be part of KRS!Cale’s squad no matter what. She summons a hospital bed for her extra. I imagine that if Dr. Romani can’t stop Cale, she will have a better chance since she can summon a bed & strap Cale to it efficiently. 

Until Cale responds to it by spamming his Command Spells every time it happens like: “Command Spells go burrr” 

Then when he actually needs them, he will internally curse himself for using them earlier.

----

Everyone from LCF is confused as to why they were summoned at Chaldea when they were just about to punch that Sealed God. KRS!Cale is even more confused cause he was in the middle of something important & just woke up in a hallway of this random facility. 

When each person from the LCF gang is summoned, they do the normal greeting and once they realize that KRS!Cale is their Master, they all go in variations of:

“CALE! What is going on? Is this another part of your plan/scam for something? Ah, you look thinner the last time I saw you (you punk). Have you been taking care of yourself properly?”

\\\----

(FGO Final Singularity Spoiler)

If people thought KRS!Cale is bad at the whole self-sacrifice gig, people will scream at Dr. Romani for him to stop. They do not need the emotional trauma of possibly losing someone turn into trauma of actually losing someone if Aras Nova is unleased. KRS!Cale will be very adamant towards Dr. Romani for him to not do this. To let them do something else besides this To not lose another person he has grown attached to. 

Yet the good doctor did what he thought had to be done and Solomon fades from the Throne of Heroes. But before his golden sparkles could fade, KRS!Cale embraced his remains into the Golden Ring that is left behind. Maybe with this much, they could find a way to bring back Romani Archaman.

\\\(FGO Spoiler ends)

---

The interactions of the LCF Cast with the rest of Chaldea will be very chaotic for KRS!Cale. Every single Servant will try to grab his attention for a while after they are summoned. Every. Single. Servant.

He will not be able to relax by himself unless if it’s with the child Servants cause it’s pretty tame compared to having Kiyohime & the LCF character of “whoever won the hat draw to spend some time with Cale for a day”

At least everyone gets along in battle. They are all driven with the urge to protect KRS!Cale so “that b*st*rd won’t cough up any more blood”. Oh boy, when KRS!Cale gets lost/taken by an enemy Servant, there will be protective Servants out for blood. Unless if they are told to stick to the plan, but even that is flimsy at best because there is a chunk of Servants who have the “Independent Action” skill or a variant of it.

KRS!Cale: *Is taken by an enemy*

His Servants: *Unleashes their Noble Phantasms with a boost from Raon*

KRS!Cale: ... I want to slack off.

[uselesslesbiab]

How about hcs for the Phantom Thieves finding out Ren's been found out as their leader by like 9 people (one of which is an elementary schooler). I imagine they'd be cool with Sojiro knowing cause he's the group dad (no I will not accept otherwise) but they would not be cool about some of the others (especially if they find out some of the shit he's had to do for them).

Ooh I’ve had ideas about this for a long time and I wanted to write a full fic about it but I probably won’t any time soon. The idea was gonna be post interrogation scene Ren is forcibly put on bed rest so all his confidants come over to help him and the other phantom thieves out instead of Ren having to go see them. This might be a longer post so I guess I’ll separate the bullet points based on each phantom thief?? Just so I don’t forget anyone.

Morgana doesn’t get reactions for obvious reasons. Also this kinda turned into which confidants they would get along with the most oops. Mishima is also not mentioned since they all know that he knows and runs the Phan-site

Ryuji

His “For real?!” gets louder every time someone new walks in the door

He doesn’t really think it’s a big deal that these people know. If Ren trusts them, then he trusts them.

He’s super impressed by Shinya and they actually get along really well since Ryuji’s still a kid at heart. Shinya thinks his dyed hair and attitude is cool. (CEOs of cuffing their pants so high it looks ridiculous).

Chihaya scams him out of his money so fast it makes his head spin. Ren makes her give it back but his ego takes a beating.

Politics bore him to tears, but he likes the sound of Yoshida’s voice and the way he really listens to young people. “It’s like he totally gets us ya know? You’re alright old man!”

He has a nice talk with Kawakami where she apologizes for treating him like a troublemaker just because of what the other teachers said about him.

Ann

She’s extremely surprised and a little embarrassed that all these people know about them. “Ugh you’re worse at keeping this a secret than Ryuji!”

She starts complimenting Takemi’s goth fashion immediately and is totally in love with her style

She gets along well with Ohya too. The worlds of modeling and journalism are far from strangers, so they have a lot to talk about.

She gets along surprisingly well with Hifumi considering they’re almost polar opposites. Hifumi briefly mentions that she likes sweets and Ann invites her out for crepes on the spot.

Yusuke

Yusuke is disappointed in Ren of course and tells him as much, but he gets distracted before he can finish scolding him.

He’s absolutely fascinated by Chihaya and her fortune telling. He doesn’t have any money for her to take but she gives him a free reading anyway because he just looked so excited she couldn’t say no.

Yusuke and Hifumi really hit it off once they start talking about the phantom thieves and end up becoming good friends. She’s his first friend he’s ever made at school.

He calls Iwai a true artist when he sees his skill at making model guns. He demands to witness the entire crafting and detail process from start to finish. Iwai sees another kid with no parents and immediately goes into dad mode.

Makoto

Makoto isn’t angry, but she sure as hell isn’t happy either. As the strategist, she immediately recognizes and connects the confidants with the mementos targets that were troubling them.

She turns to Ren immediately and just goes “What in the hell is wrong with you”

After she gets over scolding him for being so reckless, she actually finds herself enjoying the company of Yoshida and Ohya especially

She talks to Yoshida and Ohya about her father and the injustice in the political system.

Makoto is really great with kids and Shinya kinda flocks over to her at some point and asks a bunch of questions about her role in the phantom thieves. Shooter arcade games are actually the only games she’s ever played, so they talk about Gun About strategy a lot.

Futaba

“Okay I got given so much much shit for letting Sojiro find out and Ren was doing this the whole time?!! You guys suck!”

She brags about her gaming skills to Shinya of course and challenges him to a Gun About competition.

Takemi sees her and immediately starts ranting off about how she needs to take care of her health and how her vitamin D is deficient and how she should get tested for this this and this and-

Futaba zones out but the feeling of having an adult female figure care about her well-being makes her smile.

Kawakami hears about her shut in nature and commits to tutoring her on the exact subjects she’ll need to know for the high school entrance exam. (Futaba may be incredibly smart but we all know the bullshit high school asks us to learn about. She doesn’t learn stuff she doesn’t have an interest in.)

Haru

Like Ryuji, she puts her faith in Ren and decides to trust these people.

She absolutely ADORES Iwai and his model guns. She fawns over their design and tries to pick up all the heaviest ones. He’s extremely flustered and thrown off at first because she’s this 5’2 tiny girl wearing a fluffy pink sweater and is rambling off facts she knows about all these guns.

Even so, Iwai is a dad at heart. The second he finds out she’s an orphan he practically adopts her on the spot. Haru is happy to finally have a male figure in her life that she can feel safe with and look up to.

She’s too smart to fall for Chihaya’s traps but she indulges in the fortune telling anyway. Only as a subtle way to give her some money.

[crossroad-of-fate]

-An Act Of Kindness-

It was after his overblot that Azul started to feel uninterested in his work. Empty golden parchment was sitting nicely inside his desk drawer, but he couldn't bring himself to take it out and write another contract. Even the atmosphere inside his office was simply unappealing to him.

So he decided to walk around the dormitory, to freshen up his mind.

He didn't expect to be taken down memory lane during his walk. Especially to a time he wished would just disappear without a trace by a simple wave of his magical pen.

He hated himself as a child. Blamed how he looked as the source of his childhood bullying. Despised how much he cried and hid inside his octopus pot instead of standing up to them. His present self was reflected by the glass that kept the water outside and away from him.

He was no longer the chubby, weak, and dumb octopus he once was. He grew out of that and worked hard to get where he was now. A proud Mage-in-training in one of the two most prestigious magic schools in Twisted Wonderland.

But why did he feel so disappointed by himself now?

He had to sit on the floor with his back facing the glass wall to calm himself. He just over blotted yesterday, intense levels of bad emotions aren't good for his health and welfare.

Usually, the calmness of a quiet area would quickly help him to settle down the thoughts running around in his head. But today it just made it worse. He almost wished he wasn't alone right now, to just hear someone talk about something else so he could focus on that.

"..What am I even doing this for?" His voice filled the emptiness in the hallway and he leaned the back of his head onto the glass behind him.

"In the end, it wouldn't change the fact that I was that ugly dumb octopus.." the poisonous words fell from his lips as if it was something he regularly said without much thought.

"Really? Because the Azul I see is an amazing person!"

He looked up to see you walking towards him from another hallway, you waved at him without an issue just as if you haven't walked in on him talking down on himself. You continued,

"He's intelligent, hard-working, and innovative. Oh, I could go on about him for hours!" You clasped your hands over your chest and pretended to swoon. You ungracefully plop down on the floor beside him, keeping yourself only at an arms distance.

"He also has the prettiest shade of white silvery hair, blue eyes that shines under the lighting like crystals, and a cute lil' mole under his lips." You moved your hands around certain places on your head to further describe Azul's features. Settling them down on top of your knees as you talked in a calmer tone.

"But sometimes, I think Azul can't see how beautiful and great he is."

He looked at you blankly at that sentence. His expression told you that he didn't believe a single word that came out of your mouth. But his eyes told a different story.

"You shouldn't let what people say about you determine your worth, you're the only one with the power to do that. Don't let them take it from you.." You almost pleaded at him to not say such bad things about himself, your eyes concerned for him.

Azul was quiet for a while, staring at your small smile directed towards him. Earnestly. Genuinely.

He took off his glasses and let them dangle between his index and middle finger while he lowered his head to rub his temple, hiding his glassy eyes from your view. He chuckled lowly to himself.

If only he had surrounded himself with more people like you from the start, maybe he wouldn't be as pathetic as he is now, not as scared of the little things in life he taught himself to be afraid of.

You sat beside him patiently, hoping that your words would reach him. You wanted him to look at himself the way you do. You admire this man, truly you do. Even with all of his suspicious, and scamming tendencies and even if he was trembling slightly in his place on the floor. He was trying not to cry in front of you to save just a little bit of his facade.

Azul inhaled and exhaled deeply, putting back his glasses and getting up. He patted his uniform off any invisible dust and adjusted his tie. "I should return to my room, the Mostro Lounge will open in a few more hours. I bid you goodbye, (L/N)-san."

He nodded to you without a glance at your face, making his way back with his fists clenched.

"Take care.." Your words fall on deaf ears as he left.

.......

Inside his room, Azul tried to push your words to the back of his head, pleading to himself to just be silent as he changes into his dorm uniform. He succeeded in switching his pants and shirt quietly, he looked to the mirror as he tied his bowtie. Shaking his head to remind himself to just think of nothing.

It's not like you meant what you said, after all. But you did.

You were just trying to cheer him up, you probably didn't have good intentions. You didn't want to see him sad.

You were just pitying him. You wanted to help him.

His fingers froze on top of his collar after a tear rolled down his cheek without him realizing it. Followed by a few others. He managed to finish his bowtie but his arms quickly dropped to his sides limply.

The words he wanted to hear back then, he was told to by a stranger. Someone he wouldn't remember in a few weeks forward. He yelled to himself that your words didn't mean anything, but why did it matter to him if it didn't?

Azul squatted low in front of his mirror and the comforting silence of his room, let the stress in his heart cry out. The frustration he felt directed towards himself for so many years, burst like fireworks repeatedly.

Even as he sniffled and hiccupped, even with his gloved hands wiping the tears, he felt his heavy heart lighten with every whimper and cry.

Thank you

Thank you for saying that.

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Proposal ~ T.H

chapter six: the end

Synopsis: fake marriage, real trouble

Series Masterlist

A week later, you sat in a hotel room in Canada with papers all around you. The process to becoming a citizen was a long one, so you wanted to get started right away. You were pulled away from your work momentarily when you heard a knock at your door.

“Who is it?” You called out.

“Room service.” A muffled voice called back. You furrowed your eyebrows before going to the door to inspect the random visitor.

“I didn’t order any-“

You opened the door to see Tom in his regular clothes with a Starbucks cup in hand. You didn’t have to drink from the cup to know it was a matcha latte.

“Good morning.” He smiled shyly and held the cup out. “This is for you.”

“Tom?” You asked in disbelief. “How did you get here?”

You took the cup from him to be polite and took a sip, smiling a little at the correct order.

“I followed the yellow brick road.” He said simply. You gave him an unamused look and took a long sip of your drink.

“Sorry. Was that a bad time for a witch joke? It feels like it was a bad time. Oh God.” He began to panic and looked down at the ground.

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “But what are you doing here?”

“I came to get you back.” He told you. “The office isn’t the same without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Part of you couldn’t believe he had flown all the way to Canada just to try to get you back, but another part of you knew that was exactly the kind of thing Tom would do.

“And also, I really miss you.” He added quietly. “I really, really, miss you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You admitted, bringing a smile out of him. He pulled out an unused barf bag out of his pocket suddenly and you noticed that he had written all over it.

“Sorry. I came up with this whole speech on the plane and I didn’t want to forget it.” He cleared his throat before beginning to read off the bag. “I know why you ran away. You ran because you were scared. You’re scared of being a part of a family again and allowing someone to love you. Am I right?”

“You might be a little right.” You mumbled as you adverted your eyes.

“You’re scared of having people who love you in spite of all your efforts to shut them out.” He continued. “You’re scared of that because you want it more than anything.”

He folded the bag suddenly and shoved it back into his pocket, deciding to speak from the heart instead. He took your hands in his, prompting you to look at him.

“It’s all here.” He said sincerely. “It’s waiting for you. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

“And what about when it’s not there anymore?” You asked in a weak voice. “When it goes away, like every good thing does, then what? Who’s gonna love me then?”

“I know you think it’s been a long time since you’ve been a part of a family, but it hasn’t.” Tom told you. “You and me sharing that office the past two years, that was the start of our family. All the late nights we spent reading page after page. Every moment you took to teach me something so that I could be better at my job, so I could be like you. All of that was us, you and me, being a family.”

“No it wasn’t.” You pulled your hands out of his. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You told me you were falling in love with me.” He ignored your efforts to make him leave. “Did you mean that?”

“Yes.” You said after a minute of silence.

“I meant it too.” He smiled softly.

“You don’t love me.” You sighed. “You don’t even know me, Tom.”

“But I want to.” He insisted. “Despite every effort you’ve made to shut me out, I’ve spent the past two years trying to know you. And every time you let me in just a little, I’m reminded why I never stopped trying.”

“You’re not in love with me. You just have some school boy crush.”

“I started as that.” He agreed. “But it’s different now. It’s real now.”

“Don’t you get it? This doesn’t change anything.” You gestured between the two of you. “Even if we developed feelings for each other, our engagement is still fake. You could still go to jail. I care about you and your family too much to risk that.”

“Okay, here me out.” Tom began. “Could jail really be that bad?”

“Oh my God.” You groaned and tried to shut the door.

“And it’s not even guaranteed I’d go to jail.” He continued as he held your door open. “Chances are, the IRCC never finds out that the marriage started as a scam.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying it’s worth the risk to me. I would risk potentially going to jail to give us the time we deserve. Because I do love you.” He promised. “And I know you love me. As much as you don’t want those things to be true, they are. So suck it up, and let me love you. For Gods sake, woman.”

“I’m sorry, was that a proposal?”

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “There are like 500 hotels in Canada and I was up all night trying to find the one you were in.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckled a little.

“Let me try again.” He asked before getting down on one knee. “Y/n, will you marry me so that we can date?”

“What if we don’t work out?” You fear as you chewed your bottom lip.

“What if we do?” He shrugged.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled.

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes at him. “I’ll marry you.”

“Did she say yes?” Sams voice came from somewhere in the hallway.

“Shut up!” Harry answered him. “I can’t hear.”

“Both of you, knock it off.” Nikki snapped her fingers. “I can’t hear her answer.”

You looked at Tom with a raised eyebrow as he got off his knee.

“Okay, my family is in the hallway.” He admitted. “But it wasn’t my idea. They begged me to come along.”

“All of them?” You asked.

“They really missed you.” He shrugged, making your face light up.

“I said yes!” You yelled out, loud enough for the family to hear. They all came rushing into your room and enveloped you in a group hug, cheering and crying over the news.

“We’re getting married!” Tom yelled over his family’s cheers.

“Fuck the government!” You yelled back before pulling him into a long, reunion kiss.

One month later

“And now, the vows.” The priest said as he took a step back.

You were standing across from Tom on the alter in his aunts hotel on your highly anticipated wedding day. You’d been staying in the UK on “vacation” as you planned your wedding, adding in a few more details now that you had more time. You were still in Nikki’s wedding dress, but this time, you were wearing Toms old tennis shoes. Paddy had lent you a blue handkerchief of his, which you had tied into your hair. Your entire office had come out to see you, all of them insisting they’d never miss your big day. Best of all, Tom was fresh off getting lovely reviews from the media after his book was received by the public.

“Tom.” You began your vows. “You are the most patient person I have ever met. You have overcome everything I’ve thrown your way with grace and resilience. And I have thrown a lot. I even threw a pencil sharpener at his head once.”

You paused to let the crowd laugh at you joke, even though you weren’t joking.

“Over the past two years, you have been by my side every single day without fail. And after today, you’ll be be my side for the rest of my life.” You continued with a smile. “And I couldn’t be happier about that. I’m so lucky to have found someone who refuses to give up on me. To have found the first person to take the time to get to know me, despite every effort I made to never let such a thing happen. Tom looked past all the walls I put up and decided I was someone who was worth getting to know, and for that I’ll forever be grateful. I’ll forever be grateful for a lot of things he’s done.”

“I did not like Y/n for a long time.” Tom began, making the guests laugh. “I thought she was mean and cold and weird for drinking matcha. Like, who lives in England and doesn’t drink tea? I’ll never understand it. But I’ll never understand a lot of things about Y/n. Like how I can’t stay mad at her, even when she throws things at my head. Or how right when I think I have her figured out, she does something completely out of nowhere. Like publishing my book that I didn’t even know she read. Y/n may come off as mean and frigid, but she’s not. She’s actually really sweet when she wants to be. But only when she wants to be. And if you’re lucky enough to gain her trust, she’ll let you in. And that’s when you’ll meet the one the most intelligent, passionate, beautiful, bitchiest women in the world. And you’ll fall just as deeply in love with her as I have.”

You smiled brightly at Tom as a tear of joy slipped from your eye. He reached forward to wipe it with his thumb as the priest went on.

“Do you, Tom, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He asked. “To have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Tom to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“If anyone should have any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You held your breath and looked at the crowd, anticipating at least one person to object. To your surprise, there was not one dry eye in the house. Everyone, including your employees, was in tears. You looked back at Tom in disbelief and he gave you a wink.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest said. “You may kiss your spouse.”

Tom was quick to put his hands on your face and pull you into a kiss, as he had been anticipated it from the moment you walked down the isle. You kissed him back as the crowd erupting into applause and cheers. Once the pictures were taken and the final words were said, you ran down the isle hand in hand.

The reception was held in a room right next store as Toms family and your employees gathered together. You changed into a casual white slip dress and kept your tennis shoes on so you could be more comfortable. After the reception and a few goodbyes to his family, you drove back to your apartment to spend the night.

“I can’t believe it.” Tom sighed happily as you walked through the front door. “We’re really married.”

“Not yet.” You reminded him as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “Our appointment is at 8 am tomorrow at city hall. Harry said he’d be our witness.”

“You made my family really happy today.” He smiled up at you while his fingers drummed your waistline. “They really like having you around.”

“I like them.” You replied. “I’m honored to be a Holland.”

“You don’t have to change your last name if you don’t want to.” He said softly. “I know it’s a sexist tradition and everything. I wouldn’t be offended if you kept yours.”

“Tom, I want to take your last name.” You chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the last name of someone who loved me.”

A fond smile tugged at Toms lips before he stepped forward. He silently pulled you into kiss, letting his rough fingers spread across your face. You tugged him by the tie as you stumbled back into your bedroom, never letting your lips leave his. Tom pulled away for a moment to pull his tie over his head and place it around your neck, using it to pull you closer as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“You know.” You smiled against his lips. “We might just get away with this.”

“Oh, darling.” He sighed happily. “I think we already have.”

Three years later

“Hello. My name is Sandra.” Your IRCC agent sat in front of you and smiled tightly. “I’ll be handling your case today. You two must be Mr. and Mrs.-“

“Holland.” You finished her sentence with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” She nodded and shook yours and Toms hand. “I see you’re applying for naturalisation.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied. “I would like an adjustment of status for my citizenship.”

“I see.” She said as she looked over your file. “How long have the two of you been married?”

“Three years.” Tom answered.

“Have you lived in the UK the whole time?” Sandra asked.

“Yes, we have.” You nodded as you slipped your fingers through Toms. He brought your enjoined hands to his lap and held them there while his leg anxiously bounced.

“And you both work?”

“Yes.” Tom said. “We’re the chief editors at the Bullock Publishing Company.”

“And Toms a published author.” You added. “A successful one, too.”

“Wow. Chief editors.” Sandra raised her eyebrows. “So, are you familiar with the process of naturalization?”

“Yes. I have all my forms right here.” You handed her a folder full of your processing forms.

“And you passed the life in the UK test?” She asked as she looked through the folder.

“On her first try.” Tom added. “She didn’t even have to study.”

“Have you ever broken a law?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Not even a speeding ticket.”

“Hm.” Sandra looked between the two of you skeptically. “How long were you together before you were married?”

“Two years.” Tom answered. That was the only part you had to lie about, but the rest of your story was truthful. You’d been living in the UK for the past three years as Toms wife, and now it was time to become a real citizen. Sandra looked between the two of you again, not liking how seemingly perfect your story was.

“We met at work.” Tom added when he sensed the doubt. “I used to be her assistant.”

“He stills gets my coffee for me, though.” You smiled at him. “Even after three years of working in the same position as me, he gets my coffee like he’s my assistant. Isn’t that sweet?”

“I don’t mind.” Tom insisted. “After we were married, she changed her coffee order to match mine. Cute, right?”

“We drink tea, actually.” You piped up. “Because who would live in the UK but not drink tea?”

You gulped loudly as Toms leg continued to bounce. You’d managed to get away with it for three years, and you could only hope this meeting wouldn’t jeopardize everything.

“Okay.” Sandra sighed and put your forms down. “We’ll review your case and get back to you in the next few months.”

“Okay.” You smiled nervously. “Thank you so much.”

You grabbed Toms hand and pulled him out of the office as fast as you could.

“She didn’t suspect anything.” Tom said once you were in the car. “I think we actually got away with this.”

“I know.” You laughed in disbelief. “Did we just successfully pull off a fake marriage?”

Tom quieted down all the sudden, looking down at his lap before staring out the window.

“Do you...do you still think it’s fake?” He asked quietly without looking at you.

“Tom, no.” You put your hand on his face and made him look at you. “The engagement was fake. Or, for fake reasons. But the marriage is real to me. It’s been real to me since your mom walked in on us kissing that one day.”

Tom smiled a little a nodded, feeling better now that you reassured him. He took your hand off his face and kissed it as he held eye contact with you.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was just wondering because I always thought of it as real.”

“Okay, good.” You squeezed his hand. “Then we’re on the same page.”

6 months later, you found a letter from the government addressed to you in the mailbox. You opened it as you walked back inside the house, freezing in your tracks when you realized what it was.

“Whats that, darling?” Tom asked when he noticed your expression.

“The Home Office approved my citizenship.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I passed. I’m officially a UK citizen.”

“What?!” He rushed towards you and scooped you into a hug. “Thats incredible. Congratulations.”

“I can’t believe it.” You squeezed him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face. “I’m a citizen. This is amazing.”

Tom pulled away to give you a congratulatory kiss. He pressed kisses all over your face as you giggled in his arms.

“Wait.” He let go of you with a sad look on his face. “What does this mean for us?”

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“Well, you’re a citizen now. Technically, you don’t need to be married to me.” Tom said quietly. You gave him a sympathetic look and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I know.” You told him. “But I want to be.”

“You do?” He asked hopefully. “You still do, even though you don’t have to?”

“I do.” You promised. “I told you, this is real to me.”

“Okay.” He sighed in relief. “Good.”

“You don’t have to worry about me running anymore, Tom. You’re my family now.” You smiled softly and rested your hand on his face. “And I’m not anywhere.”

“Me either.” He said as he pulled you into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

THE END

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[weebsinstash]

How come you quit your job? Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel comfortable answering of course!

Nah its ok, I don't mind talking about it, and I probably should explain at least a little since just recently we were having financial troubles so it seems kind of a bad move that i would do this in theory

Also uh I wound up bitching and complaining a little bit so this post is kind of long and I apologize haha

So there were several factors to me quitting, both pertaining to my own physical and mental health, behavior of my coworkers, and just how the place was being managed. To everyone new, or just everyone who isn't aware I guess, I never finished high school and the American education system is a scam and lie anyways so, I'm limited to which jobs I can have, so I was working fast food with this job having paid $12 an hour (and that's with me having prior work experience)

So to start, there were certain chronic physical pains i was/am having related to my disability (equinus), but I'm also creeping up on pre-diabetic status and uh despite not being an actual diabetic yet, I have diabetic neuropathy which is a fun way of saying certain nerves are dead or dying, and diabetes/pre-diabetes also causes joint pain so sometimes I'm just constantly suffering from Shit Hurts Disorder because fast food is actually a very physical job sometimes. I also had leg surgery in May that I still get certain aches from because my body is now "uneven". I'm also about to have surgery on the other leg which we'll get to in a second

But in the end the main contributing factor to me quitting was a specific group of my coworkers. I had certain coworkers who were quite frankly not very good at their jobs and had to constantly be told to do things over and over and still wouldn't get it right. On many days during lunch rush I would be on grill and turn around and there would be no one around me to assemble the sandwiches, get the fries, bag up the food, do the things that we were there to do, leaving certain other people to have to double-up their work to make up for the slack. turns out said missing people had just walked away from their station to all gossip in Spanish in the back of the store, be on their phones, share food, whatever.

I constantly caught them doing all kinds of nasty shit that people with basic hygiene and common sense don't do in a kitchen. Don't get a long manicure that rips through the gloves when you make sandwiches and touch food (you're actually not supposed to have long nails at all when you handle food but most employers don't enforce it). Don't wear your long hair in front of your body where it touches the food or can even simply just fall out. Don't bring in food from home and then not only take tubs that belong to the store to keep it in, but also physically cooking your food on the equipment while we are still serving customers. Dont leave the food you brought in in the fridge for several days until someone else has to throw it away. Don't serve food with mold on it. Don't just rinse the mold off. Don't drop raw food on the floor and then just toss it back in the frier 🤢

Also like. The particular group of coworkers I'm referring to would hardly ever call people by their actual names and would usually give almost everyone nicknames for whatever reason. My name is Miranda and for some reason they would always call me Melinda or Linda which I also found very disrespectful after so many months. Oh, so you can't do the simple shit I ask you to do every day AND you can't do the simple courtesy of using my actual fucking name? Christ

Really the straw that broke the camel's back was one thing most specifically though and it legitimately could have been resolved so easily and both my coworkers and my managers weren't doing shit about it. That simple thing? When these women were making sandwiches with fried products, which are kept in a drawer, they would simply reach in the drawer and pull things out without looking, and often times they would not call out we needed more food until they would reach in and could no longer feel anything. Obviously for fast food that's a problem. We have metrics and times we want to keep good as well as not make our customer wait. The goal is to call things out BEFORE it's empty so we aren't holding on orders and people aren't having to wait for extended periods of time

Literally the solution to this is just looking in the drawer, to actually look at and count whatever you're taking as you're taking it out. This is a standard practice. This is common sense. And for the fucking life of me, no matter how many times or how politely I asked, these grown ass women, most of which have children, would not fucking do it. They refused to literally just peek in a drawer to make sure we weren't running out of food. Every single shift, every single shift, (which by the way for months i was working 6 days a week) multiple times a shift, I'd hear shit like "Oh, no more spicy! Linda, do you have spicy down?"

I cannot express it enough. All they had to do was look in the container of the food they were taking out, just a peek to confirm we aren't running low, something that's extremely basic in a food based job, and these grown adults would not do it. So then I would have to compensate. I'd have to constantly HOVER OVER THEM because they refused to communicate, to look in the drawers FOR THEM, constantly walking back and forth when I'm disabled and post-surgical. I would be on the job getting physically tense, standing there thinking "any second now and its going to happen again, when are they going to fuck this up again"

so yeah on Friday it was during lunch rush and sure enough, there i hear "oh, no more spicy! Linda, more spicy?"

I uh sorta blew up a little. Just looked at her "WHAT DO I TELL YOU EVERY DAY? LOOK IN THE CABINETS AND CALL THINGS OUT BEFORE IT'S ALL GONE"

And insult to injury she just like basically ignores me, looks at me like im being a bitch when i ask her to do this every shift and so has the manager, and just asks me to drop spicy chicken and at that point I said "no, im going home" and stormed out

So yeah. I feel really bad but also not. I tried to talk to my GM about this many times and he would just give suggestions for what I could do, basically telling me to work around them rather than putting his foot down with the actual people causing the problem. I tried. I asked nicely, I tried different things, but I can't control other people. I'm about to have surgery on my other leg and I don't want to be trapped recovering my surgery and in pain and STILL having to babysit women who are older than I am

Oh and I guess secondary note but have I ever mentioned some of the incredibly inappropriate "jokes" my GM has made to me or other women in the store. Asking what race of men we prefer, saying he wishes he could have a kid with me because I'm down to earth, saying I'm nice and young for him while the others are too old, I overheard him asking some of the others if they knew what squirting was and then proceeded to describe it in a pretty crass way

So. Yeah. And I guess the final, final thing is that. Well. I've been having some really significant mental health struggles. I mean like, very serious. My therapist has wanted me to go into the hospital a few times and I would always say something like "well I can't, I have work". When I'm having constant mental health crises and quite frankly think about suicide on a daily basis, it doesn't help my mental health to work at a job that stresses me out and makes me feel small, used, and taken advantage of

I hope to get another job eventually but I've been thinking on it and with this surgery coming up on the 20th I'm going to be homebound anyways so... maybe it's for the best if I take a small break for a while and try to focus on myself for a little bit. So yeah if you read this whole thing, thanks for listening to my little sob story 😳 ol weeb here is uh, feeling like a tired old soul lately and a break is sounding pretty nice honestly....

[ibijau]

chap 4 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Meng Yao faces his past and his future

Meng Yao screams upon seeing the face of those two intruders, and nearly stabs himself in the cheek with his tiny knife as he brings up his hands to cover his mouth.

He knows these men.

They killed him, once.

The one in blue chopped off his arm.

That one in red destroyed his reputation, exposed the darker sides of him for all to see, leaving him no choice but to die.

And Lan Xichen, of course, dealt the fatal blow.

Three men in this desolate house with him. Three murderers. Or is it really three? After all, none of this would have happened without…

Meng Yao, who refuses to fall to his knees like Lan Xichen out of sheer pride, sobs. He doesn’t know when, exactly, he started crying. But his face is now wet with tears and snot under his hands and his breath fogs up the blade of his knife. He hasn’t cried like this since his mother died.

In every life he’s lived, she has died too early.

A curse bound to repeat itself, a punishment for everything Meng Yao ended up doing after she died in that first life, and the second, and the third, and…

Somewhere a thousand miles away, heavy footsteps climb up stairs two, three at a times, rushed and loud as they never are usually. Meng Yao can’t see through his tears, but he still knows it must be mister Shanzi. A suspicion confirmed when a moment later his employer speaks up, breathless from running up those stairs.

He never was an athletic man, mister Shanzi, not if he could avoid it.

“Don’t hurt him!” Mister Shanzi cries out, trying to run again, only to settle for stumbling along until he’s in front of Meng Yao.

It’s a surprise, and it’s not. Either way, it startles Meng Yao out of his tears. He blinks a few times, until his vision clears. Mister Shanzi is there, shielding him from the other three, arms spread wide as if to better protect him. Meng Yao can’t see his face, but he can imagine the fierce, determined expression on his employer’s face.

His fourth murderer, and yet now Meng Yao feels less scared at last.

The newcomers aren’t impressed with mister Shanzi. The man in white and blue, kneeling next to Lan Xichen, glares up at mister Shanzi. Meng Yao feels he should know his name. He knew it, once, but they haven’t met in many lifetimes.

“You didn’t say,” the man says coldly, eyes darting toward Lan Xichen, still prostrated on the floor, as if he’s remembering as much as Meng Yao does, and enjoys it as little. “You know how much I’ve tried to find…”

“I’ll buy you lunch, Wangji,” mister Shanzi cuts him. “Deal with your brother, I’m taking care of Meng Yao.”

Lan Wangji frowns at this answer.

That’s his name, Meng Yao recalls. Lan Wangji, the one who goes where the chaos is. And the other, then, is Wei Wuxian. Two parts of a whole. Meng Yao thinks he hated them, once. Even before they destroyed him, he hated them for their freedom, for their right to be careless, when he had to measure his every word, his every action. Or perhaps it is just that a part of him always knew they would kill him.

As Meng Yao tries to remember which came first between hatred and murder, he feels mister Shanzi reach for his hands. The knife is taken from him and put away on the nearest surface, which ought to scare him. He knows, though, that no weapon he might yield could protect him, should mister Shanzi have it in mind to murder him again. Meng Yao has never once been successful in defending himself against him.

With this certainty in mind, Meng Yao doesn’t resist as mister Shanzi pulls him away, back to the basement. This, too, reassures him. Mister Shanzi loves his paintings more than anything in the world, more than scamming powerful assholes and overconfident idiots. If he had to kill Meng Yao, mister Shanzi wouldn't do it somewhere that would taint his precious art.

Once they reach the workshop, mister Shanzi gently brings Meng Yao inside and invites him to take the chair while he closes the door, locking it behind them. This too should scare Meng Yao. It doesn’t.

“How are you feeling?” mister Shanzi asks, coming closer but stopping at few steps away from Meng Yao. Giving him space, so he can feel safe. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember dying because of you,” Meng Yao says, falling onto the chair which rolls away from his employer. 

Mister Shanzi is unphased, his face showing only polite interest, the way he does when meeting sellers and buyers. With him dressed like this, the neutral expression feels wrong. Funny, almost. Meng Yao would laugh, if he remembered how.

“You killed me several times,” Meng Yao says. It should make him angry. When he looked at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, he felt unfathomable rage over what they did to him even if he doesn’t understand what, exactly, it is that they did. They only killed him once, though. But mister Shanzi, who he can remember towering over him, holding a blade wet with his blood… “You also saved me, didn’t you?”

Mister Shanzi smiles, if you can call it that.

“I had to find a new way of dealing with you,” he casually admits. “After the first few times, killing you wasn’t as fun anymore.”

“I was a child the last time you killed me,” Meng Yao protests, and maybe there is some anger to be felt over that. He was just a child that one time.

A toddler really, playing in the street with other kids, Meng Yao suddenly remembers. His mother hadn’t quite died yet in that life, but her health had been declining, so he’d been left to his own devices too often. Someone had offered him sweets and he’d been too young to know he should refuse.

He hadn't even gotten those candies before getting his throat slit.

“It was a low point for me,” mister Shanzi admits with a shiver. “At that time, I was... You see, you had killed my brother in the first life in which we met, and in a truly horrible manner too,” he explains, and Meng Yao nods. It rings a bell. A corpse butchered, a melody... “and since he had never reincarnated, I didn’t see why you should get to. I’d always found you as an adult before that, and it was easy to find some failings of yours to excuse killing you. A child though…” He grimaces in disgust, looks down as his hands as if they're still stained with the warm blood of a three years old. “After that, I started reconsidering the way I was doing things. My brother had believed you were worth giving several chances, once, so I thought I’d honour his memory and do the same.”

“I suppose I should be grateful?” Meng Yao asks. “Just as I was supposed to be grateful toward Mingjue.”

Hearing his brother’s name makes mister Shanzi jump. But he’s not mister Shanzi, Meng Yao realises. That was never his true name.

“You’re Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, mostly to himself. “You’re… after so long, and you’re still doing all this for him. I’d murdered the wrong brother, back then.”

Realising what he just said, Meng Yao tenses and throws Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, terrified that he might lash out at the reminder of that crime which has entangled their fates through centuries.

Nie Huaisang turns away, curling up on himself, shoulders shaking. Meng Yao braces himself for an attack, verbal or physical, but instead after a moment Nie Huaisang bursts out laughing, loud and unrestrained.

“Every time!” Nie Huaisang giggles. “Every damn time, you end up saying that! And every time I say that…”

“Da-ge would have been just as fierce in avenging you, so there was no right brother to kill, no right brother to spare,” Meng Yao finishes in a whisper. “I’m not saying that I want to kill you now,” he quickly adds. “I don’t. Not after what I owe you.”

Of course in that very first life, he owed Nie Mingjue, and that hadn’t stopped him. Meng Yao can feel the reek of the terror he’d felt then, stuck between a rock and a hard place, certain he didn’t have a choice. Perhaps he didn’t. Those were different times, and he had promised his mother to be a good son so his father would give him the status he deserved. So she hadn't suffered in vain when raising him.

Meng Yao had tried to be a good son, which had turned him into a poor friend. Not to Nie Mingjue exactly. They weren’t friends anymore by then. But to Lan Xichen, who had suffered first the loss of Nie Mingjue, and then years later the horror of having helped it happen.

And then Lan Xichen had killed him.

Maybe he hadn't been a very good friend either.

“I’m really sorry for this,” Nie Huaisang says. “You’ve always remembered, whenever I’ve taken you in, but it’s never been quite so fast and brutally. And it’s the first time that…”

He trails off, looking over his shoulder toward the door with a mix of dread and longing.

“Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao guesses.

“Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang agrees, before chuckling sadly. “Did you… does he… did he know before coming here, or…”

Meng Yao thinks on it, and shakes his head. He might be deluding himself, but he doesn’t believe Lan Xichen knew, not until they arrived to the Hanshi, not until he saw Nie Huaisang, not until he was confronted by his own brother. It took both of them by surprise.

Meng Yao wants to ask about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, but doesn’t. It’s not necessary, he realises. Having been in their presence, he can guess that they are more like Nie Huaisang than like him or Lan Xichen. There is just something about those people who no longer die that sets them apart from ordinary humans, even at first glance.

“He was just here about the painting,” Meng Yao explains. “He’s writing a book on… well, on you, I guess.”

The expression on Nie Huaisang’s face is a complicated one, equal part regret and relief.

“Wangji had been looking for him,” he says. “Quite desperately. Well, he found him now, good for him. As for myself, I don’t think I should… well. Well. It doesn’t matter. Lan Xichen made it clear once how he thinks of me, and I know better than to impose myself where I am unwanted. I’ll just disappear for a while, make sure we don’t run into each other. The antics scene was getting a little bothersome anyway. Damn technology, ruining my life. I’ll have to find something else to keep me busy. I guess I’ll have to leave this house, too.”

As he speaks of abandoning the Hanshi, Nie Huaisang looks truly sad. Almost in spite of himself he raises a hand to touch the nearest wall, brushing his fingertips against it as one would a lover.

He's owned this house most of his life, he once told Meng Yao. At the time, Meng Yao had thought his employer had bought it young, or inherited it somehow, meaning he’d lived there for maybe twenty years.

He wonders how long “most of his life” really means.

“Am I fired?” Meng Yao asks instead. A more practical question, and one to which he’s more likely to get an answer.

“Fired?”

“I… I betrayed you. I took someone here without your knowledge.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, then laughs softly and comes to kneel before the chair, taking Meng Yao's hand. His skin his warm, his touch grounding, and Meng Yao, stupidly, wants him to never let go.

“Oh, A-Yao,” Ni Huaisang sighs, squeezing his hand. “Neither of us would ever know how to refuse Lan Xichen anything that he asks. How could I blame you for this? No, you’re not fired.”

Meng Yao lets out a deep exhale.

“I still can’t keep you around anymore,” Nie Huaisang adds, tilting his head slightly. It makes him look like a curious bird. He’d like the comparison, Meng Yao thinks in a panicked effort to not delve on what his former employer just said.

“I won’t betray you again,” he promises, grasping Nie Huaisang's hand tightly, as if that could keep him here.

“If Lan Xichen asks, you will. I don’t think he’ll ask, mind you,” Nie Huaisang says with a smile. “I haven’t seen him since that first life we all shared, and we didn’t part on good terms. You wouldn’t know, you were dead already, but I… well. He did not take kindly to being used as my weapon to kill you, to put it mildly. And now you’re in love with him again, in a world where… well, it’s easier to love him these days, isn’t it?”

“I’m not in love,” Meng Yao says, but the protest sounds hollow as it leaves his lips.

If he’s not in love with Lan Xichen, he’s more than halfway there already. Why else would he have betrayed Nie Huaisang, whom he does love, in spite of how stupid it is? Even without realising exactly what 'mister Shanzi' was, Meng Yao could tell there was something off about the man, something unnatural and dangerous. He's an idiot, though, and loved him all the more for it.

“I’m not in love just with him,” Meng Yao corrects, which startles Nie Huaisang. Good. Meng Yao isn’t quite as cruel as he was in that first life or some of the following ones, but he wouldn’t call himself kind either. If he must suffer, why shouldn’t others do too? “Take me with you. Wherever you’re going, take me with you.”

“No.”

“Do you really think Lan Xichen would still have anything to do with me, now that he remembers?” Meng Yao insists, rising from the chair. Nie Huaisang lets go of his hand and stands up as well, takes a few steps back as if putting distance between them will do anything. “It’s pointless to leave me behind. Take me with you.”

“No. You’re mortal,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… I’m not doing that. I’m not involving myself with a mortal. I’ve seen what it does to people like me. I won’t… I can’t allow anything to destroy me like that. Not until I’ve found da-ge again, not until I’ve seen him safe and happy.”

Meng Yao nods, because he understands, because he’d give everything for a chance to see his mother again, would sacrifice anything just to make sure she’s happy. And still, he says again: “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“You’ll need an assistant. You need one. You're useless on your own. You suck at keeping track of appointments, and you still haven’t figured out social media, and… just that, just your assistant.”

“No.”

“I can keep things compartmentalised.”

“I can’t,” Nie Huaisang snaps. “I… I would have let you go soon, anyway,” he adds, more quietly, as if confessing a terrible secret. “You are… I got attached, more than planned. You’re good, in this life. I think the world is finally changing enough to allow you to exist and you’re… but it doesn’t matter. I was always going to let you go, it’s just happening sooner than I’d planned.”

“So I am fired.”

Nie Huaisang grimaces. For a moment, just a second, he looks exactly as old as he is. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, so deep and ancient it is almost frightening to behold. Centuries after centuries of looking for the same person, of never finding him, of meeting instead his brother's murderer over and over and over again.

“You’re not fired,” Nie Huaisang tiredly insist. “I’m going to continue paying you until you find another job, and I’ll make sure the right people know you’re on the market again, if you want to stay in that line of work. I also don’t mind paying for any school you like. I’ll write you letters of recommendation, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re good even without me, but… but after today you won’t see me again. I just can’t risk it.”

“And if you found your brother again,” Meng Yao suggests, because unlike Nie Huaisang he’s good with new technology. If Nie Mingjue is alive somewhere, he can find him. He will find him. It can’t be a coincidence that Lan Xichen and him met like that, so maybe…

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and shakes his head.

“I’ll never stop looking for him. But I don’t think he’s coming back. I think the damage to his soul was too great, and it was just the end for him. I’ve got to keep looking, but I think there’s nothing to find. So I won’t make promises to you, Meng Yao. I’ll have that decency, at least.”

It’s funny, Meng Yao thinks, how little Nie Huaisang has changed since that first life. 

By which he means, Nie Huaisang is still the same dramatic asshole as he used to be, still so wrapped in his own problems that he doesn’t really care about the effect his decisions have on others, because he’s a Nie so of course he’s always right.

It used to drive Meng Yao grazy, in that first life, when he thought all Nie Huaisang had going for him was a good inheritance and a pretty face.

It still drives him crazy right now, when he knows Nie Huaisang is perfectly capable of being more than this, should he feel like it.

Before Meng Yao can insist, there is a knock on the door. They both startle, having half forgotten there are others with them in that house. Nie Huaisang looks panicked for a moment, but quickly gets himself under control. He probably guesses, as Meng Yao does, that it cannot be Lan Xichen, who surely would never reach out to either of them.

That guess turns out to be right. When Nie Huaisang goes to open the door, he finds Wei Wuxian there, who looks… not quite angry as such, but ready to be pushed there if anyone says the wrong thing.

“You still want us to take you away?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Nie Huaisang nods quickly, than shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“Zewu-Jun can’t… If he's coming too...”

“He needs time to digest, and he says that one…” Wei Wuxian nods toward Meng Yao, who flinches on instinct “...called him a taxi, so he’ll make his own way home. Lots to think about. Did you fucking know, Huaisang?”

“Not until today, and I called you right away. You think I wouldn’t have told you, if I’d known? You think I’d have gone anywhere near him by choice?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, in a manner that seems to imply he doesn’t really know what Nie Huaisang might do about anything.

“What about that one?” Wei Wuxian asks, nodding again toward Meng Yao.

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “He has his car. Wei-xiong, I just want to leave now. Please.”

They do leave. Wei Wuxian glances one last time at Meng Yao, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t look back as he exits the room.

Just like that, Meng Yao finds himself alone, with only paintings and a broken game console for company.

He allows himself a moment of sorrow because, and he can admit this to himself now that it no longer matters, he’d been hoping to spend the rest of his life with either Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang. Both, if fate chose to be kind to him.

Fate has never chosen kindness, when it comes to him.

So Meng Yao dries his tears, and picks up that shattered console on the floor.

The paintings in this room are worthless to him. Over half are fakes, and even Nie Huaisang, who painted them, doesn’t always recognises just from looking what’s real and what’s not. But the console… well, there’s a guy who lives in Meng Yao’s building who’s made a business of buying broken electronics and either repairing them or scavenging them for parts.

Maybe Nie Huaisang really will continue paying him, or maybe he won’t, but Meng Yao hasn’t gotten where he is in life by counting on the kindness of others.

He’ll sell the console when he gets home.

[godofplumsandthunder]

I Don’t Need Your Love

Pairing: Frank (Endings Beginnings) x Estranged Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, pregnancy, divorce

A/N: Well, I finally got this one finished. Between my own health issues, family health issues, and then the whole scam that is Zoom University, I have had zero motivation to write, with major writer’s block. But the only way forward is through. This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ drunk drabbles, with the prompt of Frank telling his wife she’ll make a great mom. I’ve been in an angst mood and I’ve been listening to Six the musical, so this piece is influenced by the song “I Don’t Need Your Love”. Hope y’all are staying safe, and that you enjoy.

Laying back in your recliner, you try to calm the nausea that engulfs you. For once, it’s not morning sickness, rather the nerves of having to see Frank at your appointment today. You haven’t seen him in months, not since that night. You left him, having to get away for the health of the baby, and for your own health. After many difficult conversations, you both agreed that Frank could be involved in the baby’s life, but with you, he needed to stay away. Every time you saw Frank, pain, and grief consumed you. The piercing, loud trill of your phone’s alarm breaks you out of your grief-induced spiral. Reminding you what you need to focus on today, the baby.

Getting to your doctor’s office took longer than it normally did. Traffic was backed up for miles, causing you to fear that you’ll miss your appointment. You didn’t need any more stress. Thankfully once you passed the accident, traffic picked up again and you were able to make it on time. Once in the office, you see that Frank is already there, nervously bouncing his leg as he reads some sort of magazine. You check-in and go sit by him, a few seats apart.

“Hello Frank,” you greet courtly. You hated the man for what he did to you, but it doesn’t mean you have to be a full bitch to him.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you! How are you? How’s the baby?” Frank smiles brightly at you, staring at your bump.

“The baby’s fine. It moves around a lot. Hard to sleep,” before Frank could respond to that, a nurse calls out your name, that the doctor is ready for you now. Which thank God, because you couldn’t take any more of this small talk. ===== The appointment went well. You were healthy and the baby was growing as expected. The doctor finished the ultrasound and printed off a few pictures for you and Frank, and said his goodbyes. Leaving you and Frank alone. You’re cleaning the rest of the goop from the ultrasound when Frank turns to you.

“Y/N, you’re going to make an amazing mother.” He looks between the ultrasound photo and you. Your heart starts to race, as his comments set you on edge.

“Frank, please don’t,” you try to nip this conversation in the bud. Not wanting to talk about it. Not right now, at least.

“No, Y/N! I mean it. I know that I made a mistake! I’ve been changing and I want to be with you! I own up to my mistake, Y/N.” You scoff, as tears roll down your face, as your freshly healed wound is torn right back open.

“Do you know what my mother said when I got with you?” Your almost random question catches Frank by surprise.

“Uh, no. But what does this have to do with-“ you let out a small soft chuckle, interrupting Frank.

“She told me not to fall for the first boy that sweet-talked me. And that’s what I did.”

You place the towels into the dirty hamper next to the exam table, as you cradle your bump.

“I thought we were going pretty well. Sure we had our ups and downs, but who doesn’t?” Then you throw that all away with a little mistake,” you snap, your voice laced with bitterness, and heartache.

“A mistake, Frank, is buying brown sugar when we needed white. I knew what I was getting myself into with you. You’re impulsive and immature at times. But I never never thought you would cheat on me! I built a life with you, Frank! I imagined us having kids, being a family. I loved you, Frank, with all of my heart! I gave you everything!” Looking away from Frank you try to calm yourself, you need to, if not for you, then for the baby.

“But you ruined that! You destroyed my dreams! All trust is gone, and I’m not going to sit around and be your toy, using me until you find someone younger or newer. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I don’t need your love anymore, Frank. I thought, for a small moment, that this baby could be the thing that saved us, but every time I see your face, I feel hatred, unbridled hatred. No baby is going to fix that. After he’s born, I’m... I’m filing for a divorce. I’m done. I finally realized I, we, don’t need you anymore.” You cry as you expose yourself, in an emotionally nude state.

You gather your possessions, and Frank tries to grab your hand, “Y/N, I...” he starts to form an excuse, one you’ve already heard.

“Goodbye Frank,” you pull out of his embrace for the last time, walking out the clinic door with your head held high. Everything feels numb, your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, but despite these feelings, there’s the small ember of hope. That one day, you and your little squirt will find someone, who earns your love. While a small part of you will miss Frank, and it will hurt for some time, you embrace the painful, cleansing feeling of the future. Pulling out of the clinic, you’re free to be loved.

[unbridgeabledistances]

Prompt: Sandy and Debbie break up and Ian and Mickey each take a side. During the fall out Ian worries that Mickey has the same complaints about Ian that drove Sandy to break up with Debbie. But in the end Mickey reassures Ian that their relationship is nothing like theirs.

hi!<3 thank u so much for this prompt, it was so fun to write! hope u enjoy:)

also this scenario could take place anytime between ep 2 and ep 3 of s11, because ian still has his warehouse job

**

“Jesus, Debbie, calm the fuck down. You’re being dramatic”

“Sandy, if you call me dramatic one more time, I swear to god. I’m not trying to be controlling I’m just asking you where you were last night, which is a perfectly reasonable question—”

“Reasonable if you were my mother, maybe, but I can go wherever the fuck I want without you needing to smother me all the time! I was on a run with Terry, because I have no money and don’t really know what to do with myself, and I’m never fucking good enough for you, and that’s literally all you need to know—”

“Trouble in paradise,” Mickey commented as he poured Ian some coffee, breaking the silence in the kitchen, where everyone was staring at their breakfasts and listening to the voices shouting upstairs.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Debs isn’t known to be the most… secure partner in a relationship.”

“You can say that again,” added Liam, wrapping his poptart in a napkin and shoving it into his backpack. “I’m just gonna eat on the way to school. It doesn’t seem like this screaming is going to stop anytime soon, and while you and Mickey having sex twice a day is bad enough, Debbie and Sandy having a lover’s quarrel has somehow pushed me over the edge.”

Ian smirked and sipped his coffee. “Can you drop Franny off on the way?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Liam led Franny out of the kitchen, where Ian and Mickey remained, listening to Debbie’s shrill voice drifting through the floorboards.

“Fine, if I can’t know what’s going on in your life, I guess you don’t need to be in mine anymore!”

“Are you fucking serious, Debbie? Why do you need to know where I am, you can barely handle knowing the whereabouts of your own kid—”

Ian and Mickey traded raised eyebrows while Ian silently took a bite of toast.

“Sandy, get out of this house! I don’t need you and your illegal bullshit anyways, all you’re doing is putting me and Franny at risk with Terry and all of his issues—”

“Okay, little miss perfect, but don’t expect me to give a shit when you come crawling back.”

“Fine!”

The door upstairs finally slammed, and seconds later Sandy came stomping down. She looked at Ian.

“Your prissy fucking sister is a pain in my ass. The sooner your whole family realizes that your garbage father is as bad as Terry is, the sooner you’ll hop off of your superiority complex over the Milkoviches and realize that your way of surviving is literally the same as ours.”

Sandy shoved past the kitchen table and out the back door.

Ian breathed out a laugh. “Well, that was an eventful morning.”

“I’ll say,” Mickey agreed, looking at the door Sandy had just walked through. “Do you think I should go talk to her or some shit?”

Ian shrugged. “Nah, I’m sure it’s fine. I’m sure Sandy’ll grow up and apologize for whatever illegal shit she was doing with Terry, Debs will calm down, and everything will go back to the way it was.”

Mickey looked slightly uncomfortable as he placed his mug down on the table. “I mean, she has got a point. I’m sure whatever Sandy was up to was no big deal, Debbie doesn’t need to be freaking out.”

Ian scoffed. “Yeah, if getting involved in all of your dad’s shit is no big deal. Sandy could at least tell Debs whatever she’s up to, that sounds pretty fair to me.”

Mickey stood up, clearing their plates and walking over to the sink. “Whatever, Gallagher. I’m just saying Sandy does have a point about you being marshmallows. If she’s not telling Debbie what she’s up to, it’s probably for her own good.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Mick? Last time you disappeared on a run with your dad without telling me where you were, I literally thought you murdered our PO. How is that better than just telling me you’re hawking some stolen guns or whatever you get up to?”

Mickey distractedly wrung his hands with the dish towel, looking sightly pissed and defensive that Ian would even bring up that onslaught of memories, of their almost-wedding and Ian’s rejection at the courthouse and everything that followed.

“I don’t know, asshole. Maybe because Sandy’s right, and you all can be a little judgy about all the illegal shit. I get that you’re a goody two shoes breaking your fucking back in a warehouse, but that doesn’t mean that everyone needs to work their ass off to make minimum wage like you. I used to do shit for my dad all the time, so does Sandy and she doesn’t need anyone to be her keeper.”

Ian rolled his eyes, taking a final sip of coffee and standing up. “Alright, whatever. I’m gonna be late.” He pecked the top of Mickey’s head as he put his mug in the sink. “Enjoy your hard day’s work of watching TV and jacking off.”

Mickey turned and flipped him off as Ian strode out of the room.

Later that day, as Ian was mechanically checking expiration dates on an order of off-brand crackers, he couldn’t help but replay he and Mickey’s conversation from that morning over and over in his mind. Was Mickey seriously going to defend Sandy for sneaking with Terry behind Debbie’s back? He knew Mickey didn’t give a shit about making minimum wage right now, but was Mickey really going to spend the rest of his life following in his dad’s footsteps, depending on his next heist for cash? And, worst of all, did that mean he was going to live a life of feeling like he needed to hide every move from Ian? Ian knew what he was signing up for when they got married, that being with Mickey always meant some level of scamming and schmoozing; but for some reason, he thought that now that Mickey and his dad had fallen out that Mickey’s existence would stop being so constantly on the brink of incarceration.

He’d expected marriage to be a partnership—but so far, it felt like he and Mickey were on different pages about pretty much everything.

When Ian finally made it home and stumbled in the front door, tired and bleary, Sandy was still noticeably absent from the Gallagher house. Debbie and Franny were in the kitchen, along with Liam who was muddling through his homework at the table. Ian went upstairs and found Mickey laying on their bed, watching some sort of video on his phone at full volume. He didn’t look up when Ian came into the room.

“Hey, Mick. Can we talk for a sec?” Ian asked, taking off his hat and coat and gingerly placing them on the bottom corner of the bed.

Mickey still didn’t look up from his phone. “Don’t know what the fuck you want to talk about.”

Ian sat on the edge of the bed. “Did… Sandy and Debbie make up yet?”

Mickey huffed. “What d’you think.”

“Guess not. How’s Sandy doing?”

“Don’t know, haven’t heard from her yet. Figure she’s just off somewhere blowing off some steam.”

Ian approached the next topic with caution.

“So, uh, I was thinking. And I think we need to talk again about, y’know, our mutual expectations.”

“This shit again? Listen, we already did this, I know we agreed that we aren’t fucking other people—"

“No, no I mean about other stuff. Not even the money stuff again really, just like… if you’re ever going to go back to doing the shit that Terry does. For example.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about man, you know I don’t talk to that asshole anymore.”

“I know, but—what if you want to do stuff with Sandy, or someone makes you an offer for a big job? What if you end up in jail again? What if you feel the way Sandy does and you feel like you need to hide all this stuff from me, meanwhile I’m just here working my ass off trying to make a life for us—”

Mickey paused the video and finally looked up from the phone.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Gallagher?”

Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want you to not tell me shit, the way Sandy was with Debbie. I’d rather know what illegal bullshit you’re up to, even if you think it’s going to piss me off. I… I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you to have to lie to me, and I don’t want you to go to jail again. I just wanna be on the same page.”

Ian inched his hand over the covers and placed it on top of Mickey’s as he kept talking.

“I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately, not agreeing on stuff. But I just…want you to know that I’m in this. I love you, I’m your fucking husband. I want us to work together, and I don’t want you to think that I can’t handle anything, or that we can’t tackle everything together.”

Ian looked down at their hands, letting the silence swell as he traced Mickey’s palm with his thumb.

“Hey, Gallagher. Look at me.”

Ian met Mickey’s eyes—Mickey was looking directly at him, unguarded and open. It reminded him of the look on Mickey’s face when he had tried to break up with Mickey the first time, back when they were both kids sitting on the front stoop and Mickey had sprinted over when Ian called; when Mickey had split himself open, had told Ian how much he loved him, through sickness and health and everything they were about to go through.  

“Sandy’s got her own bullshit to learn. About people caring about her, caring where she is, caring if she throws her life away. But I’ve been here this whole time, and I’ve learned that. Why do you think I used to throw myself into as much risky bullshit as I could, before I was locked up? I was losing myself in everything, because all I ever wanted was this.”

He put his hand up to Ian’s face—a small gesture, but probably the most intimate touch he’d given Ian in weeks. It stung like ice and fire on Ian’s cheek, like electricity was flickering where his fingertips met Ian’s skin.

“I’ve pointed a glock at my asshole dad’s head and been willing to take the bullet for this. I’m not getting involved in any shit that can take you away from me, Gallagher. Am I going to stop forging my payroll for my PO? Or stop selling shitty expired brownie mix? Probably not. But I’m not gonna do anything risky, anything that might take me away from you for good. Never was.”

Ian sighed. He was being stupid, and he knew that. But between all of their senseless bickering the last few weeks, he couldn’t help but worry that Mickey was feeling more and more indifferent about this whole marriage situation, or getting restless about being pinned down. He listened earnestly as Mickey continued talking.

“How many times have I told you—my family was never there for me. You’re the only family I need. And I made that shit official when I put a ring on your finger, or I guess when I forced you to put one on mine. I’ve always been there for you, I’m always gonna be there for you. We fought long and hard enough for this, Gallagher. You just gotta believe in me.”

There it was—that fondness in Mickey’s eyes, the softness that he tried to hard to hide, but showed up anyways as he was tying Ian’s tie, or holding him close through a wave of depression, or kissing his forehead when he gave Ian his meds. Mickey was never going to let anything come between them again, not after all the pitfalls and heartbreak they’d been through—Ian realized that now, even more than he already had.

“I know, Mick. I believe you.”

“You’d better, asshole. Now c’mere.”

Mickey led Ian’s chin forward, and their lips met—just a ghost of a touch, at first, but it made Ian grab the back of Mickey’s neck and pull him in closer, fiercely slotting their lips together again and again.  

They broke apart, and Ian smiled sheepishly. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“I’m all yours, Mr. Milkovich. Whatever shit our families get into can’t change that.”

[miekasa]

the pre-pancetta snippet: early december, 3 months before the world went to shit

💉levi gets sick [levi grumbles in the background]

it was the pre-pandemic flu season. levi caught it at work and just his luck, it was pretty bad for him. but healthcare is expensive, capitalism sucks, so he wore a mask and still went to work the next day, thinking bedrest during the weekend would be enough. erwin kindly dropped off some sports drinks while hange gave him a new bag of black tea leaves. oc comes home to find him almost asleep at the table while waiting for water to boil for his tea and her senses tingle. she just knows. levi is pretty out of it by then, very pissed, feeling like shit, but still thinking about the slack he has to pick up at work. oc is very concerned because he looks awful. she bugs him and asks him if he’s okay with her checking him up. he is about to tell her to piss off but what the hell, lucky his roomie’s a doctor and he’ll take free healthcare when he can. so he nods once in dramatic brooding levi fashion.

her hands are cool on his forehead and neck, it feels so good, and levi is really trying not to accidentally moan out loud. when she brings out her stethoscope and asks him to take deep breaths, his focus is on her hand absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder [levi thoughts: he’s really out of it if this is all he can focus on]. oc’s brow furrows when she finds out he’s had only one cup of tea for the entire day and only one meal the day before. he says he’s brewing more, but oc is not having it! she heats up some leftover soup she has and makes him eat before handing him a tylenol. levi feels unsteady and weak but he’s trying to keep up the i’m-fine-it’s-just-the-flu facade. oc sees right through it and tails him to his room.

she helps him to bed, all while saying he’ll need meds for the virus and he needs to eat and drink more fluids because he’ll need an IV drip if not. even if it’s just the flu, he got a pretty bad case. levi strips off his shirt before he drops onto his pillows, grumpy and dismissive, telling her to just leave the prescription. he can handle it. oc snorts before leaving him alone (for now)

levi wakes up to rustling sounds and finds oc by his bedside setting up some stuff. his head is pounding, entire body is aching, and his cough is killing his throat. he’s very grumpy and is about to tell oc to just let him be but he gets a coughing fit. oc rubs his back while checking his vitals, her voice soft with worry as she asks him how he is feeling. he says he went to the bathroom but that’s it. he doesn’t see oc frown, but he’s more than annoyed that he is disturbed when she digs him out of the blankets. she helps him sit up, propping him on his pillows, and she makes him eat more soup, drink some tea, and take his meds. his throat is cooling and he realizes belatedly that she made him strong mint tea. he’s just swallowing whatever so he can go back to sleep [levi is trying very hard not to vocalize his disappointment whenever her hands leave him]. oc sighs at the little care her patient has for himself, but she tells him that he needs a drip at this point. she’s not satisfied with how little he’s been eating and drinking. levi is ready to throw hands because he refuses to spend thousands of dollars for 2 hours at the emergency room and get scammed by health insurance just so they can give him IV fluids, but oc surprises him by saying she’s all set up, and if he’s okay with it, she can do it here.

he shrugs and holds out his hand. the skin of her hands are a little rough with a few calluses, her touch so light and sure. the needle pinches but the pain dulls after a few seconds. he watches oc taping up the line and securing his hand to some makeshift splint so it doesn’t move around much. oc hangs up the bottle on the hanger she installed on the wall lamp by his bed before heading out. levi tries to fall back into sleep again. suddenly, he feels a damp cool cloth brush his forehead and his face while another hand runs through his hair gently. he’s groggy and he squirms because what. he hears oc shushing him, saying something about sponge baths for fever, and he’s just so not used to tenderness and care, and she’s sponging down his neck and his chest, running over his arms, turning him on his side gently so she doesn’t jostle him into wakefulness. her hands are firm and gentle as they wipe down his back and it’s cool and soothing and so good over his heated skin. he falls asleep in minutes. this never happens.

he thinks oc drops in once more in the middle of the night because he remembers someone holding him up to take something. when he wakes up the next morning, his fever is gone and he feels like himself again. he sees an empty bottle on his bedside table which means oc must have changed his drip too. the one he’s hooked to is almost gone. he’s in the middle of answering a work email on his phone when oc, already dressed for work, pops in to check on him. she has a tray in hand, looking genuinely relieved and happy that he’s better. his knows his appetite is back because the smell immediately makes his mouth water. he is very hungry after 3 days of soup and tea. she made really good pancakes, fried bacon to a perfect crisp, and the scrambled eggs are savory and creamy. it’s killing him. he can forgive the tea bag from a packet. levi is still a tea snob. oc is cheery, chirping that he’s good to go without a drip as long as he keeps up his food and fluids.

oc: water, tea, or pocari sweat, levi! none of the sugary sports drinks erwin left you, that stuff is a scam.

levi: i don’t have pocari—

oc: i bought you some, they’re in the drinks cupboard!

levi: why—

oc: it’s not just sugar, it has the electrolytes you need!!

she unhooks the IV and takes out his line, lays out his medication regimen and tells him to please call her if he starts feeling bad again. levi rolls his eyes and bats her concern away, grumbling that he’s fine and well enough, but he’s listening to every word she says. he utters a small thank you because how on earth does he convey his immense gratitude in words, he is not used to words!!! his cheeks feel very warm. oc giggles and ruffles his hair. she understands her roomie’s not talkative, but his soft gaze betrays everything beneath his gruff exterior. his shyness is adorable even if he was a grumpy old man while sick. oc thinks that her theory of him being 89 years old deep inside might be right after all. she sternly tells him to rest and lay off strenuous activities until he’s really recovered.

oc: rest. no cleaning today.

levi: my room—

oc: no. cleaning. today.

and just like that, she’s off to work [levi thoughts: wtf she works on sundays?]. all that levi can think of for three days, or more like since that day, are her gentle, comforting touches, her kind smiles, and how pretty she is. he tries, he really tries to push back the thoughts and bury the memories, but all efforts become in vain for him the next week.

he’s reading on the couch and relaxing for the night when oc comes out of her room looking like a fucking goddess. she’s in a deep green dress of flowing silk with thigh-high slit, sporting a dark, vibrant red lip, complaining of some recognition ceremony she has to attend for one of her bosses at work. she pouts while slipping on pumps that make her legs look even more stunning. levi is aware that he is staring and has tuned out her voice, so he forces himself out of it. he remembers basic conversation etiquette and lamely asks about the party. oc says it’s a black-tie-long-gown thing that’s a waste of her time. she twists her hair up in a messy bun and puts on earrings, grumbling that this is the most formal she’ll go. levi is mildly amused when she says she’ll nick a bottle of good champagne and some desserts before she escapes the party in an hour. tops.

levi: what if you get caught?

oc: they can spare one bottle and a few cupcakes

levi: and what reason have you come up with if they start interrogating you?

oc: my roommate is sad and a stress-eat is essential after shitty weeks of being underpaid laborers *cheeky smile*

he rolls his eyes. when she steps out their door (her uber’s there), levi counts to ten before groaning very loudly to let his frustrations out.

but she really did steal and bring home the good stuff, squealing in excitement when she sees that he was still up. he actually waited for her to get home but she doesn’t need to know that. they shared fruit tarts and fancy mini-cakes and worked through the bottle of champagne while bonding over their mutual disdain for assholes at work. conversation was open and easy, and levi cannot remember when he has been this comfortable around others who weren’t old friends of his. he was in an old shirt and jogger shorts. oc was still in her dress, barefoot, lipstick still perfect and bun still messy, picking a strawberry off the last cake while laughing at his dry jab about her boss. and jesus christ, she was exquisite.

at this point, denial begins to trickle in, but levi doesn’t know that yet. it’s just the champagne, right?

end. this was so mf long, i’m so sorry 😭 anyway this is insanely self-indulgent, and this is me coping with the pandemic (and with SnK ending today)

AHHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THIS ANON!!! SO MUCH!!!! PLEASE THIS HIT ALL THE MARKS!! Levi being reluctant to having someone take care of him, oc picking up on him not feeling well even though he’s not really showing it, and eventually just giving him the care and attention he needs (without suffocating him because you know he would be grumpy about that). I love this wow, seriously. 

AND THE END!! When they’re drinking together and he’s feeling better, you know damn well he didn’t even want her to leave in the first place, and IM SO GLAD HE’S FINALLY REALIZING!! Levi, my beloved, you are in love it is not the champagne 😌😌