#need to get my fucking fafsa sorted

[aropride]

might work as a dishwasher if the position is still open in a couple days . which is funny because dishwashing is my least favourite chore by far and it makes me want to fucking Well i shant say . but its better than nothing at least i wouldnt be bored in my room alone. and id get free lunch. BUt i would have to email and say hi is this position suitable for someone whos like, near-comically short but not in a way protected by the ADA and such

[grapesodatozier]

Anything You Want

a fic for @heterophobicrichietozier !! thank you so much for requesting this fic!!

rating: explicit

words: 7.5k

tags/warnings: sugar daddy au, domtop!richie, subbottom!eddie, daddy kink, age gap, marking (hickeys), degradation and praise, porn with feelings, mentions of sonia’s abuse

notsfw below the cut!!

Eddie Kaspbrak was running short on both money and patience. He was only just over a month into his second year of nursing school, and he was already struggling to pay his rent. And sure, rent in New York City was never easy to pay, but he’d been saving, he’d had a plan. The problem was that pretty much all of his money had unexpectedly gone toward his tuition when his mother had refused to pay for a second year at school.

At eighteen, Eddie had left his small hometown in Maine and moved to New York City to start college. He had just barely convinced his mother to let him go, and to help with his tuition as long as he covered his own rent. He was required to call her four nights a week, and he had to go back on the “medicines” he’d disavowed around age fifteen (all of which he routinely flushed down the toilet), but the physical distance had been amazing—at first. Soon, though, it wasn’t enough, and his mom started demanding he call her every night, accusing him of being reckless and taking advantage of her. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming home for the summer, she’d exploded into hysterics, crying and telling him he had to come home. It was when she began rambling on about how Eddie was probably running around with dirty New York City girls and catching all sorts of horrific sexual diseases, demanding that he come home so that she could keep an eye on him and find him a nice girl when she decided he was ready for one, that Eddie had snapped. Though it had been the result of years of pent up frustration and rage, he had stayed calm as he told her that he wasn’t missing her calls because of girls, but because of guys—because he spent his weekends getting fucked by men. “Sorry Ma,” he’d said, his voice cool as steel and even as could be, “but I can’t really pick up the phone when I’ve got some guy’s cock inside of me.” It wasn’t exactly the coming out his friends Bill, Ben, and Mike had been gently running by him, but he was angry, and it had felt good; he figured she’d have had the same reaction no matter how he said it, so what the hell, right?

Still, it stung when she’d told him she wasn’t paying for his college anymore. He hadn’t really believed her at first, as she was still hounding him about his sins and how he needed to come home, but sure enough, when emails about tuition began rolling around, they all went to his school email and explained that his name was the only one on his account, that his mother had bestowed the loans onto him and given up the account. Eddie nearly vomited when he’d received that email. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he blocked his mother’s number.

He already had a job for the summer tied down, but it was just an internship level position filing in a medical office, and it was only four days a week; there was no way it would cover tuition and rent and food, among other expenses. So he was forced to take on a second job as a waiter at a new restaurant a few blocks away from his apartment, then a third job working at a mechanic shop on Fridays and Saturdays. On top of all of that work, he had to completely redo his FAFSA and reapply for loans given his new financial circumstances. His school and the government did give him a bit more, but not enough to drop any of his jobs. 

By the time classes rolled around, he had paid his tuition for the semester, but he’d had to dip into money he’d been saving for rent. Now, in early October, he was still working Fridays and Saturdays at the garage and was waiting tables Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He had a night shift shadowing a nurse on Tuesdays, which left Thursdays and Sundays as his only free nights, nights which he largely spent doing homework. All of this work, and he had still been eating Cup Noodles for the past two weeks.

It was a Friday night, and everything had been going wrong. In the middle of his shift at the garage, he’d gotten a notification from his school’s site informing him that he’d gotten a C on his most recent test, one he’d lost sleep over studying. Then work at the garage had run over and he barely had time to eat dinner before making it to the restaurant in time. He was tired and upset and feeling badly about himself, not to mention missing a party all of his friends were going to, so all it took was one baby boomer yelling at him over a mixed up order for him to excuse himself to the back room and start bawling. Thankfully, his manager seemed to be understanding and let him cool off. “I’ll take that table until they leave,” she told him, to his immense relief and gratitude. By the time she came back to check on him he had calmed down considerably and was staring into the mirror in the break room trying fruitlessly to pat down the puffiness around his eyes, trying to will away the redness that lingered. “Hey,” his manager said, “you wanna take table four?” Eddie sighed and nodded, trying out a smile. “Atta boy.”

He took a deep, steadying breath before heading out for his new table. His eyes fell on a table of three: a woman with dark red curls that fell to her shoulders, a man with truly impeccable posture, and the hottest man Eddie had ever seen in his life. And he was unabashedly looking Eddie up and down from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses as he approached. “Hi!” Eddie greeted them, his big, bright customer service smile finding its way onto his face like it was possessing him. “I’m Eddie, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started with some drinks?”

“You got me started already,” the hot guy said. Then, meeting Eddie’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?”

Luckily, Eddie didn’t have to respond to that, as the guy’s much more refined friend chimed in, “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” just as the redheaded woman was letting out an exasperated, “Richie, oh my god.” 

“One gin and tonic,” Eddie smiled, his cheeks burning. “Anything else?”

“Could I have a martini, please?” the woman smiled kindly up at him.

“Martini, got it.” As he jotted it down, he prepared himself to face the hot guy—Richie, apparently. When he did, he was struck by the depth of his blue eyes. He was surprised by how warm they were, and they glittered as he smiled up at Eddie. “And for you?” 

“What do you like?” 

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” Eddie flushed, letting out a small laugh. With a joking smile, he added, “The Shirley Temples are great, though.”

Richie laughed, his eyes never leaving Eddie. “A Shirley Temple it is.” 

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver either, and he put on his best innocent, big-brown-eyes look as he asked, “Virgin or dirty?” He had to fight back a smirk when he saw Richie’s eyes darken.

“Dirty.” The way he said it sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine. “Pretty please, with three cherries on top.”

“You got it,” Eddie said with a wink. Though the day was still weighing on him, he was beginning to feel better already. He might have even swayed his hips a little more than necessary as he walked away. He told himself it was because he could tell this Richie guy was into him, so he was aiming for a nice tip, but really Eddie loved the attention itself. With his schedule, he no longer had time for the hookups he spent his freshman year indulging in. So he couldn’t be blamed for preening under the attention of a hot older guy. Honestly, it was the pick me up he’d been needing for months.

The night went on, all three of them being incredibly kind to him, with Richie throwing in not at all subtle flirtations any chance he got. Eddie didn’t miss the three knotted cherry stems on Richie’s napkin when he brought their food and offered to refill their drinks.

He was almost sad to see Richie go, but he was grateful for the small smile he had on his face as he went to collect his tip and clear the table. At first he went to simply slip the cash into his pocket, but then he realized there was a note on the napkin beneath it: a name, Richie Tozier, with a phone number under it. It was then that Eddie realized he was holding five hundred dollars in his hand. He quickly stuffed it in his pocket, an embarrassed flush running from his ears down his chest as he hurried to clear the dirty dishes and bring them back to the kitchen.

The cash burned a hole in his pocket all night, all the way home. What the fuck? he thought to himself. Because seriously, who leaves a five hundred dollar tip on a meal that was barely over a hundred? Eddie locked his apartment door and placed the money on his dresser, staring at it. Five one hundred dollar bills. Who carried that around? What if they were counterfeit? Eddie pulled out the napkin and studied that as well, deciding to Google the name Richie Tozier. His jaw dropped when he did. There his face was, with his big glasses, cocky smile, and fluffy, dark curls. Apparently the guy was on SNL and had two Netflix comedy specials. He was also twenty-eight, nearly ten years older than Eddie. His net worth? Five million dollars.

Eddie sat down on his bed, his mind spinning. The place Eddie worked was nice enough, but it wasn’t exactly frequented by millionaires. Still in his work clothes, he dialed the number, figuring there was no way it would go through.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

It was his voice. “What the fuck?” Eddie blurted out.

He heard a bright laugh on the other end. “Is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, it is, and seriously, what the hell? Five hundred dollars?”

“You looked upset,” Richie said. He sounded like he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his voice had softened noticeably. 

“So you gave a stranger five hundred dollars?” Eddie was honestly more confused than upset. Sure, maybe his pride was a little bruised, but to be honest he was touched. And kind of turned on. 

“Just redistributing my wealth,” Richie joked. “I’ve got more than I know what to do with, so I figured giving it to a pretty boy who was having a bad day was a pretty good way to spend it.” Eddie flushed at that—pretty boy. The way Richie said it, so casually, yet with a joking tone that made it almost teasing, had Eddie’s pants getting tight. When Eddie stayed silent, Richie continued, “There’s more for you where that came from, if you’re interested.”

“What?” Eddie said, blood rushing in his ears. Was this guy serious? Was this actually happening?

“I’d be happy to help you out if you need it. A college kid like you should be partying on a Saturday night, or taking a fucking nap, not crying at a minimum wage job.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

Richie laughed. Eddie loved the sound of it. “Yeah, like a sugar daddy, baby.” The pet name made Eddie shudder, made him feel like he was glowing. But still, he didn’t want this guy getting ideas. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you.” Even as he said it, his cock was hard, and the memory of the way Richie had been flirting with him made his skin hot. But he wanted to make explicitly clear that he wasn’t into selling himself.

“That’s not why I’m offering. Seriously, I just wanna help you out. And sure, maybe you’re ridiculously cute, and maybe I want to get to know you, but mostly I wanna help you out. Pay for your rent, give you time to study and party and be a college student.”

And how could Eddie turn that down? As much as he was struggling with it, with his pride and the stranger danger anxiety that his mother had ingrained in him, he seriously doubted that a hot millionaire would come around again offering to pay his rent. 

So Eddie agreed, and soon he was sending Richie his Venmo information. Two minutes later his phone screen glowed with a notification: Richie Tozier sent you $2,000. 

It had been hard to get used to at first, but cutting his work schedule down to just Monday and Wednesday nights at the restaurant and just Friday afternoons at the garage felt amazing. He finally felt rested, could finally give his schoolwork the attention it needed.

“You know, you really don’t need to work at all if you don’t want to,” Richie told him one night when they were having dinner together.

“I know,” Eddie said to his food, “but I like the independence of it. And working with cars calms me down, it makes sense to me.” He didn’t mention the real reason he kept both jobs: the big Just In Case that loomed over him. This seemed like a fairy tale situation, like an extended, intricate prank, and he was terrified that something would go wrong. He wanted to be prepared if Richie suddenly pulled out for some reason.

However, as the months passed it became pretty clear that even without sex Richie wasn’t going anywhere. And that started complicating things.

It was late in December, which meant finals and holidays, which meant lots of stress. It was the first Christmas Eddie wouldn’t be spending at home, and that made him feel sad in a way he didn’t understand; he was incredibly happy to be free of his mother, but there was something so final about it. He supposed it was still a loss, even if it was a welcome one. On top of that, his days were plagued by the anxiety that she might get a new number, might start calling him again, might show up at his door and whisk him back to Maine. So it was just negativity on top of worrying on top of sadness. Under all this stress, he found himself spending more and more time at Richie’s apartment, more and more time talking to Richie, wanting to get close to him.

So far, things had been pretty professional. They got meals together once or twice a week, often in Richie’s apartment due to fans of his popping up everywhere wanting pictures. Mostly they hung out because Eddie liked it; Richie was always reminding Eddie that he didn’t owe Richie anything, but Eddie genuinely liked his company. 

Also, he was still ridiculously hot, and he fawned over Eddie like he was the one getting paid. 

Seriously, Richie was so amazing to him, it wasn’t just the money. When someone at work pissed him off, Richie put on one of Eddie’s favorite shows and offered to hire some people to beat up whatever asshole customer had yelled at him. When Eddie complained that the construction outside his apartment was affecting his studying, Richie let him study in his apartment, and even brought him hot chocolate and rubbed his shoulders.

Now it was a Thursday, and Eddie had finished his last final. He had just gotten home from saying goodbye to Bill, Mike, and Ben for winter break when Richie called. Like always, the loneliness that was threatening to creep over him began to ebb as soon as he heard Richie’s voice. “Hey! How’d your test go? We still on for dinner to celebrate?”

Eddie appreciated the offer, but a fancy dinner wasn’t what he wanted just then. “Can we do dinner at your place tonight?” he asked, his voice worn and small.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Richie’s driver picked Eddie up, so he didn’t actually see Richie until he was knocking at his door and falling into his arms. Richie, with his roughly nine or ten inch height advantage over Eddie, easily scooped him up and brought him to the couch. “So would it be tone deaf of me to ask how the exam went?” Richie grinned, settling down with Eddie resting against him. Eddie tucked his feet under his legs as he leaned into Richie’s embrace, finding the relief he’d been needing all day once Richie’s arms were around him.

“The exam went okay,” he sighed. “But Bill, Ben, and Mike all went home today, and I won’t see them for like a month.” 

Richie shifted so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, facing Eddie. Eddie naturally moved closer, like a magnet was pulling him toward Richie, and he ended up practically in Richie’s lap. He let out a small, happy sigh as Richie stroked his hair. “I could send you on a trip somewhere, take your mind off of it.”

But it wasn’t just the location that was the problem. Sure, he wanted something to do, but mostly he wanted someone to do things with. A specific someone, if he was being honest with himself. 

Eddie looked down and ran his hand lightly over the stitching on the pocket of Richie’s button up. It was covered in a Pac-Man pattern, but Eddie knew it was more formal than his normal look. The idea that Richie had dressed up somewhat for dinner with him made him smile. And it should have calmed him down as he prepared to ask Richie his next question, but his heart was still racing as he took a deep breath and looked up into Richie’s eyes. “Will you come with me?”

Richie’s eyes widened just barely before a smile broke across his face. “You thought I’d miss out on buying you souvenirs?” 

Eddie beamed. Richie looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his hand was a comforting weight on Eddie’s hip. The thought of travelling with Richie, of sharing a hotel room with him—sharing a bed with him—made Eddie glow. “Did you have any destination in mind?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want.” 

Richie’s voice was soft and low, Eddie felt like he could melt into it. He ran his hand up Richie’s chest, cupped his cheek, and watched Richie’s eyes dart over Eddie’s face, clearly trying to get a read on the situation. Eddie had been thinking about crossing this line for a while. He’d been holding back for months, and as the months moved by, his hang ups had begun to feel less and less important. Sure, the money made things different. But, did it have to? Did it really? Richie was here. Richie was holding him without expectation. As Eddie watched Richie lick his lips, as he felt Richie’s hands on him, he couldn’t remember a single reason he’d come up with to not dive headfirst into what they both so clearly wanted, what they had both wanted since the moment their eyes met for the first time. 

So he leaned in, the tension that had been building for months coming to a head and taking his breath away. But just as their lips were about to come together, Richie murmured a soft, reserved, “Eddie.” Eddie’s heart caught at his tone, and he pulled back a bit, trying to figure out what was going wrong. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do it,” Eddie huffed. He was pouting now, and moving to straddle Richie’s hips. “I want you, so bad. I’ve wanted you ever since I met you.” He took Richie’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “No one’s ever treated me as well as you do. The way you take care of me, the way you look at me... I’ve never wanted someone this bad before.”

Richie studied Eddie’s face, his eyes softening, darkening. He unfurled his fist and held Eddie’s jaw in his hand, ran his thumb over Eddie’s lower lip. “Fuck, you deserve the world, angel.” Eddie flushed at that. His heart was racing at the light, teasing way Richie pressed down on his lip. Just as he was about to wrap his lips around Richie’s thumb, Richie slid his hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it noticeably tighter than he normally would. “Tell me what you want, baby.” His voice was low and rough in a way that made Eddie wish he would just bend him over and fuck him senseless already.

But Eddie didn’t mind being coy, didn’t mind pulling the tension as tight as it would go, seeing how much he could tease before Richie snapped and took him the way Eddie wanted him to. “I want you to kiss me.” His nose was bumping against Richie’s now, and he could feel Richie’s shallow breath on his lips. Richie’s eyes were dark and didn’t move from Eddie’s face. Eddie took Richie’s hand and guided it from his waist to his hip, just barely on his ass. Biting his lip, he whispered, “I want you to fuck me, so bad.” He put on a pout and continued, “I fuck all these college guys, but none of them are you. They aren’t as tall as you, their hands aren’t as big as yours.” Eddie watched Richie’s jaw clench. “They can’t fuck me the way I know you could.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie nearly growled. Eddie gasped when Richie grabbed his ass, hard, and tugged his head back. “Did you think about me while they fucked you?” he whispered in Eddie’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through Eddie.

“Every time,” Eddie said, gripping Richie’s shirt in his hands. “Wanted it to be you so bad.” 

Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s neck, still not kissing him, still making him wait while he groped his ass. “I know, baby. You needed more, huh? You need your daddy to take care of you.” 

Eddie let out a surprised little noise of pleasure. No one had ever said that to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, and he certainly wasn’t expecting how much he would like it. It made him so hard he got dizzy, completely pliant in Richie’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed, already pathetically desperate. “Yes, daddy, need you so bad, please, please.” 

Richie cursed under his breath and grabbed Eddie by the jaw, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Eddie couldn’t help but let out a little whimpering moan when he finally, finally felt Richie’s lips against his. They were just as soft as they looked, and so full. As Eddie sank his fingers into Richie’s thick, dark curls, Richie sat up a bit and pulled Eddie closer against him, grabbing him by the hips and pressing their clothed cocks together. Eddie gasped and buried his face in Richie’s shoulder at the feeling. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, moaning at the way Richie smacked his ass. “This is mine, got it?” he said, his voice smooth and low. “None of those little college pricks are allowed to fucking touch you. Understand?”

Eddie moaned at Richie’s sudden possessiveness. All he wanted was to be Richie’s, for Richie to claim him and show him who he belonged to. “Yes, daddy. ‘M all yours, just wanna be yours.”

“Good boy.” He tugged at Eddie’s hair again, pulling his head back so that his neck was exposed. Eddie yelped as Richie licked a stripe up his throat and sunk his teeth into Eddie’s throat, sure to leave a dark bruise. Eddie squirmed in Richie’s lap as he sucked on his neck, hard and intentional. With a final kiss to the bruise, Richie said with a satisfied grin, “Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” He chuckled and nipped at Eddie’s neck again when Eddie moaned. “Yeah, you like that baby? You like when daddy takes what’s his? You want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for your daddy?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, already starting to feel like he was floating. After finals and classes and work and months of controlling himself around Richie, this was exactly what he needed. It felt so amazing to just let go and let Richie take control, knowing Richie would take care of him. He couldn’t believe how good this was and none of their clothes had even come off yet. He fumbled with the buttons on Richie’s shirt, but Richie just chuckled and grabbed him by the wrists.

“That’s cute, baby. Daddy decides whose clothes come off and when, yeah?” Eddie whimpered and nodded. Richie slid his hands back under Eddie’s ass and stood then, lifting Eddie up. Eddie instinctively held tight to him, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his neck. Richie kissed Eddie’s hair as he walked them to the bedroom. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart.” Eddie’s heart soared as Richie sat him down on the edge of the huge bed, the duvet soft and cool under him. His legs dangled off the side. Richie’s eyes softened as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “You doing okay?” he checked.

“So good,” Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hands fisted in Richie’s shirt.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie’s forehead, and by the time he straightened up again that look that made Eddie shiver was back on his face. Still cradling Eddie’s face, he asked, “Can I get a little rough with you, baby?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Please,” he moaned.

A dark, mischievous grin pulled at Richie’s full, dark pink lips. “That’s a good boy,” he said with a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “Arms up.” Eddie quickly did as he was told, eager for Richie to strip his shirt off for him. “Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned as he tossed Eddie’s shirt aside. He ran his hands up Eddie’s sides and teased his thumbs over Eddie’s hardened nipples, making him gasp and grab at the sheets. Richie’s hands looked even bigger wrapped around Eddie’s ribs. It made him press his legs together, his cock throbbing desperately in his jeans. “Aw, you don’t need to be shy, kitten,” Richie cooed, forcing one of his legs between Eddie’s and pressing his thigh against Eddie’s crotch. Eddie moaned at the contact and desperately started grinding against Richie’s leg. “Fuck, you look so pretty grinding on me like that. Think you could come like this?” Richie pressed his thigh harder against Eddie’s cock. “Think I could make you come in your pants?” Eddie cried out as Richie pinched his nipples. 

“God, yes,” Eddie moaned, rolling his hips. And he could, he could feel the pleasure building and building. But just as his moans were getting breathier, just as he was really desperately rutting against Richie’s leg, Richie pulled away and tugged Eddie up by his belt loops so quickly Eddie got dizzy and fell into Richie’s solid chest. “Wh-what,” he pouted, looking up at Richie, who was smirking at him.

“Aw, baby, we’re just getting started.” Still dazed and whimpering and achingly hard, Eddie held onto Richie as he undid Eddie’s jeans. Richie then dropped to his knees to pull them off. He helped Eddie step out of his jeans, running his hands reverently over Eddie’s legs as he did so. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been keeping these thighs from me for months?” Richie kissed them, making Eddie quiver and flush. “Fucking tease,” he murmured into Eddie’s skin before biting down hard on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie cried out and grabbed at the bed for support. “Look at these fuckin’ things, you basically wore panties for me.” Eddie gasped as Richie playfully tugged at Eddie’s light pink, silky briefs with his teeth. He’d mostly worn them to feel confident during his exam, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Richie when putting them on, or if he said he hadn’t bought them with money Richie gave him. Eddie leaned back as Richie spread his legs, lifting one up to get a better angle to suck marks into Eddie’s skin. The sight of Richie’s head between Eddie’s thighs, combined with the knowledge that his thighs would be covered in bruises by the end of the night, had a wet spot forming on the front of Eddie’s briefs. Richie nuzzled his face into the soft material, just barely grazing Eddie’s cock. He looked up at Eddie, his blue eyes nearly totally eclipsed. “Did you buy these with daddy’s money, baby?” Eddie nodded, blushing. Richie smirked at him. “Is this how you spend your allowance? On slutty little panties?” Eddie moaned at that and grabbed at Richie’s hair, rolling his hips forward and meeting only air. Richie chuckled. The condescension of it went straight to Eddie’s cock, which visibly twitched in his tight little briefs. “Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you? You like it when I call you out on being a spoiled little cocktease?” Eddie yelped when Richie bit down on the inside of his other thigh.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

For a moment Richie just hummed and kept sucking marks into his skin. But then, finally, he dragged Eddie’s briefs down and off his legs, leaving him fully exposed. Before Eddie could process what was happening, Richie was standing and spinning Eddie around and bending him over the bed, his face pressed into the mattress as his feet once again dangled over the floor. He let out a broken little moan as he felt Richie pull his cheeks apart and run his tongue over Eddie’s hole. After Richie had set a rhythm, lulling Eddie into a pleasured haze, he suddenly felt Richie’s hand come down on his ass. He moaned at the feeling, the slight pain that left an amazing stinging sensation in its wake. “God, you make the prettiest fucking noises,” Richie groaned, once again lapping his tongue over Eddie’s hole. He circled the ring of muscle a few times before pulling back. Eddie was just about to push his hips back when he felt Richie spank him again, harder this time, then felt him spit on his hole. Eddie let out a long moan; it was degrading and possessive in the best way. Eddie tried to rut against the bed, to relieve some of the desperate need that had his cock throbbing, but he couldn’t really do it with the way his feet were hanging off the bed. He heard Richie laugh behind him as he spanked him again. “Aw, you like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you?” 

Eddie let out a muffled, pathetic little, “Yes.”

“I know, it feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you wish you could get off right now.” Eddie’s desperate writhing was confirmation of that. “Don’t worry, kitten, daddy’s gonna fucking take you apart.” Eddie gasped as he felt Richie slide his tongue inside of him, setting a rhythm of fucking and swirling and teasing that had Eddie squirming. He rocked his hips back, letting his mind go fuzzy from the pleasure until suddenly Richie was pulling out and lifting Eddie up again. As disappointed as Eddie was to have Richie’s tongue no longer in his ass, he was more than happy to let Richie toss him around and lay him on his back, his head falling against the luxuriantly soft pillows. He felt so small in Richie’s bed, felt so vulnerable under his gaze—he loved it. Richie ran his hand all the way from Eddie’s throat down to his hip, taking his time before squeezing Eddie’s hip hard. “God, you look so fucking good like this, baby.” He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

Eddie let out an involuntary little moaned, “Fuck,” at the sight of Richie’s bare chest. He sat up and ran his hand over Richie’s soft, pale skin, admiring his freckles and the slight muscle definition. His shoulders looked somehow even broader now as Eddie traced his fingers over them. Richie only humored him for a moment before pressing Eddie back down and kissing him, deep and just the right amount of forceful. 

Richie’s hands roamed all over Eddie’s body. “God, you’re such a pretty little boy, baby. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re getting fucked.” Richie bit down on Eddie’s lip, sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. “I don’t want you fucking leaving this bed for the next week, gonna bring you everything you need. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and then I’m gonna do it again, and again.” Eddie moaned as he felt Richie’s finger circling his slick hole. “Gonna keep you nice and full of my cock whenever I can, gonna take such good care of you. You won’t need to worry about anything, gonna be my pretty little pillow princess. You just lie there and be a good little cocksleeve and daddy will take care of everything else.” Eddie preened at the thought of Richie fawning over him, of Richie doing everything for him so that all he had to do was lie back and take Richie’s cock. It had him squirming under Richie as he grabbed at Eddie wherever he could reach, surely leaving handprints all over Eddie’s body as he glided his tongue over Eddie’s. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside you, baby.” Richie sat back on his heels then and eyed Eddie’s hole, rubbing at it teasingly.

“Please,” Eddie moaned, trying to rock his hips onto Richie’s finger.

“Shh, baby, soon,” Richie soothed, leaning over to kiss Eddie again before reaching into his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and covered his fingers in it. Eddie moaned at the sight; he didn’t think a day had gone by where he hadn’t thought of Richie’s fingers since the first time they met. They were so long, and he could only imagine how amazing they would feel inside of him, fucking him, stretching him open. Richie chuckled when Eddie instinctively opened his legs. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” He tossed the lube aside and ran his clean hand over Eddie’s thigh, holding him still before slowly sliding a slick finger inside of him. 

Eddie gasped and threw his head back; one of Richie’s fingers felt like two of his own and reached deeper than he ever could have by himself. “Fuck,” he cried, “your fingers are so big, oh my god.” 

“Yeah?” Richie grinned, cocky and dark. As he slowly began sliding his finger in and out of Eddie, he slid his other hand up his chest until he was cradling his jaw and running the pad of his thumb teasingly over Eddie’s lips. “One finger and you’re already a mess, huh? You like the way I fill you up, baby?” Eddie moaned as Richie slid his thumb into Eddie’s mouth, effectively silencing any response Eddie could’ve made. He let out a contented hum and eagerly sucked on Richie’s finger, holding onto Richie’s forearm with both of his hands as he bobbed his head. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Such a good little slut for daddy.” Eddie moaned again, rocking his hips as Richie began to finger him faster. Eddie cried out as Richie thrust deep inside of him, making him see stars. “Yeah, you like how deep I can get inside you, baby?” Eddie nodded. “I fucking love it too, angel. You’re so tight, so small and sweet.” He slid his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and pressed his palm to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he tilted his head back, giving Richie better access. Richie pressed down slightly under Eddie’s jaw on either side of his throat, moaning at the blissed out smile that graced Eddie’s face. Richie only pressed down a bit, only for a few moments at a time, just enough to get Eddie’s cock leaking all over himself. He let out breathy little moans as Richie finger fucked him, the wet sounds filling the room.

“Daddy,” Eddie moaned. He met Richie’s eyes as he begged. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy, want your cock so bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute” Richie grinned, his voice low and condescending in a way that made Eddie’s cock throb. “I need to open you up a little more before you’re ready for my cock.” As he said it, he pressed another slick finger inside of Eddie, stretching him out. Eddie felt so full already from just two of Richie’s fingers; his cock ached at the thought of how big Richie’s cock would feel inside of him. 

Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts as Richie spit on his chest, sliding his free hand over Eddie’s nipples, getting them nice and wet as he played with them. “Daddy,” Eddie began, but he cut himself off with a scream as Richie curled his fingers inside of him, making electric pleasure shoot through him. He moaned and squirmed and grabbed at Richie’s hair, at the sheets, anything to ground himself as Richie leaned down and sucked on his nipples, still relentlessly fucking Eddie’s hole with his fingers. “Please,” Eddie gasped, “daddy, please.” 

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” Richie teased. 

“Fuck me, please,” he whined, clearly getting impatient. “I can take it!”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, pulling his fingers out. He had a look on his face that had Eddie’s blood pounding in excited anticipation. “Okay, baby. If you think you can take it.” He stood up off the bed then, and Eddie sat up a bit to watch. With rapt attention, his eyes followed Richie’s every movement as he dragged his jeans off his legs, then stripped off his boxers.

“God, daddy,” Eddie whimpered, drooling over the sight of Richie’s cock. It was thick and heavy and hard, and so fucking long, Eddie couldn’t believe he’d been keeping himself from a dick like that for months. It was even longer than any of his dildos or vibrators. He needed to feel it down his throat, he needed it.

Seeming to sense this, just as Eddie began to move toward him Richie lightly shoved him back down. “Stay where you are, baby.” Eddie whined but reluctantly complied. The way Richie tauntingly stroked his cock just out of Eddie’s reach had him debating whether it was worth it to be bratty if it meant getting his throat fucked. But his cock was throbbing between his legs, his hole pitifully empty, and watching Richie roll a condom on and lube up his cock made it hard to think about anything other than getting fucked. “Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll come on your face,” Richie mused, almost casually as he climbed back onto the bed and spread Eddie’s legs, settling naturally between them. Eddie moaned at his words and melted back into the bed. The sight of Richie above him, the way he touched him, had Eddie completely pliant. He felt warm and buzzy, almost liquid as Richie ran his hand reverently over Eddie’s thigh. As he teased the head of his cock over Eddie’s hole, he took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers. While Eddie nearly moaned just at that sight alone, at the way Richie’s hand engulfed Eddie’s own, it was also incredibly endearing, and it made something stir in his chest. Guys didn’t normally hold his hand when fucking him, and if they tried it was just weird, as he pretty much only did hookups. But with Richie… it felt different. The way Richie looked at him was different. Like he didn’t want to miss a single thing Eddie did. 

Richie’s voice was low and rich and brought Eddie back as he asked, “Ready?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. As Richie pressed himself inside of Eddie, careful and slow, Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand. His mouth dropped open in a silent cry as he felt every inch of Richie’s cock filling him up. Once he bottomed out, Richie let out a low groan and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, pressing kisses all over Eddie’s face. 

“Holy… holy shit,” Eddie panted, letting his body adjust. He’d never felt this full before, had never had anything so deep inside of him. “Oh my god.”

Richie chuckled in his ear as he kissed Eddie’s neck. “What’s the matter, kitten?” he teased. 

Eddie couldn’t even be bothered to take the banter bait; everything felt too good, his mind was numb. “You’re so big,” he said dumbly, saying exactly what was on his mind. “No one’s ever been this deep inside me before, holy shit.” 

“I can tell,” Richie hummed. “So fucking tight for me, baby, it’s fucking amazing.” Eddie let out a small whimper as Richie sucked on his neck. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “I just, I need just a minute.”

Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as you need.”

As Richie kissed him, sucking gently on his lower lip, Eddie slid his free hand into Richie’s hair, admiring the way his curls felt between his fingers. Then, experimentally, he lifted his legs a bit, pulling them toward himself. They both moaned at the movement, and Eddie felt Richie squeeze his hand. “Oh my god,” Eddie moaned. He grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him desperately, pleading into his lips, “Fuck, I’m ready, please, please fuck me.” 

Richie grabbed him by the hair and held him down, lifting himself up with his other arm. “Yeah?” he said, voice breathy as he pulled his hips back. He looked amazing, dark curls wild as they hung around his face, his blue eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses, his lips slick and red from kissing Eddie. He squeezed Eddie’s hip hard and asked, “You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Eddie whined. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled them up to his chest, spreading them nice and wide for Richie. He watched Richie’s eyes go dark and begged, “Please, need you to fuck me, daddy.”

Richie snapped his hips forward with a sharp, “Fuck,” making Eddie cry out. He pulled his hips back again, until just the tip of his cock was buried inside of Eddie. “Say that again.”

Eddie met Richie’s gaze with glassy eyes and whimpered, “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Richie cursed again and thrust into Eddie, this time setting a more steady pace. “God, you feel so fucking good on my cock, baby.” Eddie moaned and rocked his hips, his hands falling to grip the sheets beneath him as Richie began fucking him faster, harder. “You look so good like this, so pretty when you’re moaning for my cock.” Eddie flushed; Richie’s words had precome pearling at the head of dick, dripping onto his stomach.

Richie’s thrusts were getting hard enough to rock Eddie’s body back and forth, moving him so easily as Richie fucked him. Eddie loved it, loved how effortlessly Richie could toss him around. He loved hearing Richie moan as he fucked him, loved knowing that Richie felt just as good as he did. He loved the idea of Richie using his body to get himself off. The thought had him letting out little high pitched moans with every thrust. The pleasure left his mind in a haze, and all he could concentrate on was how good Richie’s cock felt inside of him, all he could say was a desperate string of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” broken up by wordless moans. 

“Fuck, you take it so well, baby,” Richie praised, running his hand over Eddie’s chest. “So fucking good for me. You like getting fucked like this? You like being all spread out for daddy? Just lying back and taking it while daddy makes you feel good?”

“Yes!” Eddie cried. “Yes, yes, yes, daddy, oh my god, ‘s so good, fuck.” 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Richie marveled, leaning down to kiss Eddie. The new angle shifted Richie’s hips, and suddenly Eddie was seeing stars, every nerve in his body coming alive and fizzling like a sparkler. He cried out and clutched at Richie, nearly screaming from how amazing it felt.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice high and desperate. “Right there, yes, oh my fucking god, don’t stop, please, please, don’t stop.”

“Aw, sweetheart, does that feel good?” Eddie nodded frantically, his moans becoming shouts as Richie’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over, the pleasure so deep and all encompassing. He couldn’t think about anything else, all he knew was that amazing feeling, all he knew was he needed more. He wanted more and more and more, he could feel it building, was vaguely aware of the fact that he was digging his nails into Richie’s back hard enough to leave scratch marks. 

“Daddy,” he slurred, “gonna c-come.”

“Fuck, baby,” Richie groaned. He spit generously into his hand and reached between them to stroke Eddie’s cock. Eddie’s back arched, pressing himself against Richie. The new contact had pleasure rushing through him, and with a few strokes of Richie’s hand on him and a nearly growled, “Come for daddy,” Eddie was coming undone. Pleasure exploded through him, wracked his body as he came all over himself, all over Richie’s hand, Richie fucking into him the whole time. Beyond the noise of his own moans and screams, he could hear Richie cursing under his breath, telling Eddie how good he was doing. 

Eddie panted as he came down, blinking his eyes open slowly. Still buzzing, he watched as Richie carefully pulled out of him and rolled the condom off before leaning further over Eddie. He spit into his hand again and began stroking his own cock, a sight that made Eddie’s spent cock twitch in interest. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” Richie moaned. Eddie happily complied, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes. Moments later, Richie’s moans were filling the room, as was the slick sound of Richie stroking himself, and Eddie moaned, small and content as he felt Richie’s warm come painting his chest and cheeks and lips. 

He blinked open his eyes once he heard Richie let out a heavy sigh. He looked amazing, sweaty curls clinging to his face, blue eyes hooded as he took in the sight of Eddie beneath him, covered in come. Eddie made sure to meet Richie’s gaze before he swallowed the come on his tongue, then licked more off of his lips. “Fuck, you’re a fucking angel,” Richie grinned. He swiped his fingers over Eddie’s chest, spreading his come over Eddie’s nipple before bringing it to his lips. Eddie hummed happily as he sucked on Richie’s fingers. He still felt like he was floating. Richie leaned down and kissed him, deep and lingering, before saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby, okay?” When Eddie nodded, Richie climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Eddie watched through the open door as Richie waited for the water to warm, then wet a washcloth under it before walking back over to the bed. Eddie preened as Richie cleaned him, pressing soft kisses all over his face as he gently ran the warm washcloth over Eddie’s cheeks and chest and stomach. “That was fucking amazing,” Richie said. Eddie hummed in agreement. He felt like he was glowing when he felt Richie smile against his skin. “You’re so beautiful, Eds. So fucking good for me.” As soon as Eddie was clean and the washcloth was tossed in the hamper, Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him down against him, nuzzling into his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured softly into Richie’s skin. They lay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other and pressing soft kisses against each other’s skin, until Eddie let out a small, “Richie?”

Richie sat up and met his eyes, sensing the shift in his tone. “Yeah?”

“What… what is this? Like what are we, I guess?” he asked, tracing patterns over Richie’s skin with his fingertips.

Richie smiled softly down at him and stroked his cheek. “Same thing it’s always been. Whatever you want.”

Eddie huffed. “What do you want?”

Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s. “I want you. All the time. I wanna take you on vacations and buy you gifts and flowers and dinner and watch movies with you. I wanna date you, Eds,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh. “I wanna give you the fucking world.”

Eddie grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. “I wanna date you, too.”

After a few moments of chaste kisses, Richie murmured into his lips, “I also wanna fuck you in every position on every single surface I can think of.” Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, but he was giggling, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t been thinking the same thing.

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @eddieeatsass @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz  @thelazyeye @montconde @itfandomprompts @tinyarmedtrex @nancythebisexualslutwheeler @cutedubutokki @losers-gotta-stick-together

[ceilingfan5]

7, 6, 18. Kind of like that post of those guys who got married for fafsa benefits. Like let’s get married BUT NOT BC WERE IN LOVE OR ANYTHING. Could work with taakitz but Blupjeans has that Long Con

Marriage of convenience, college, stubbornness 

It started out as a joke. It was a funny hypothetical to discuss at dinner. College is fucking expensive, and Taako and Kravitz were both broke as hell. They were already roommates. They needed the money. Why shouldn’t they get married? 

Platonically, of course. 

It escalated from there, though. They kept coming up with more reasons it would work--more money for college, taxes, insurance benefits. Registering somewhere and getting wedding gifts; Taako would die and kill for a red stand mixer. Why not marry? Kravitz’s moms were always bothering him about whom he was dating and how his social life was going. Why not give them something to talk about?

The problem was, it sounded more and more legitimate. And they had fewer and fewer reasons to not get married. A marriage certificate only cost thirty bucks, and then they just needed someone who was ordained to seal the deal. 

“Are we...doing this?” Taako looked up from his phone in disbelief and stared at Kravitz, who was also wide-eyed. 

“I think we’re doing this. Do we have a reason NOT to do this?”

“I mean, it would be cool if we loved each other.”

“But we don’t have to!” Kravitz was smiling so brightly. It was weird, Taako felt a strange pang he didn’t recognize somewhere in his chest region. It was probably nothing. Nothing at all.

It’s a whirlwind of events. Taako figures it would be even crazier if they were getting married for real. Well, you know. For real, for real. With a big white wedding, and all. Instead, they get hitched at the courthouse and go out for wings, and then they throw a party at their apartment. It’s a hell of a thing, and people, drunk and otherwise, keep coming up to Taako and Kravitz and they just laugh. They get drunk and their guests dare them to kiss, and they do, and it feels...nice. But that’s fine. They’re just married for benefits. It’s not really real. 

When everything is cleaned up and the place is back in order, it’s...weird how much things feel the same. They keep getting wedding presents in the mail, and new credit card offers, and that sort of thing, but other than that, things are very much the same. Except...they feel different. Taako keeps looking at Kravitz and turning away the instant Kravitz looks back at him. He keeps thinking about that pang in his chest. He keeps thinking about that kiss.

That feeling grows and grows the more time they spend with each other. They make jokes around it. They wear their rings, even though they don’t have to. They joke about sitting with each other on their one shitty couch, sitting closer than they really have to. They call each other honey and dear and babe. It feels...good. It feels right. It feels silly. 

Before too long, Taako has to acknowledge the name of the thing he keeps shoving back down his throat. But he knows Kravitz doesn’t feel the same way, and won’t, and never will, and that’s okay! It’s fine!!! They’re living better together financially anyway! And that’s all that really matters. 

Except one day, Magnus sends Taako a link. 

“Think this sounds familiar?” it says. Taako, uneasy, opens it. It’s a reddit post from the relationships forum. “I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH MY HUSBAND? Let me explain...”

And it’s...them. 

“I had a crush on my roommate and joked about us getting married for money and benefits, and he joked back about it, but it started to sound like an actual good idea so we got married for convenience, but now I think I actually love him and I don’t know what to do?” 

Taako spends hours reading all the comments. He tries to think of a response, but nothing sounds right. He feels so stupid and so, so happy. It could be fake. It could be someone else. But he doesn’t think so. 

The door finally opens and Kravitz sings out, “Honey, I’m home!”

“Hey, Krav,” Taako shuts his laptop. “Got a second? It turns out, you and me? We’re really, really fucking stupid.”

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2371

after bringing joel to work and taking a nap, i had an appointment with a student and then i got sucked into a pit of going through my emails and finishing tasks that were waiting for me there. which is certainly a good thing, as i was able to complete my fafsa and order transcripts for my application for unh. and i filled out the form for verifying i'm a resident of new hampshire. i answered emails and made appointments and leaned out my inboxes, even though now i still have to go through my ao3 folder and read everything lmao. i'm kind of waiting for one fic in specific to update again, but i know how school starting and the holidays and the virus all on top of each other makes things really fucking he's to handle, so while i am concerned about the author, i know that sometimes you just need patience.

i didn't get to see joel much today, but that's because he was home and playing games while i had another tutoring appointment to do, and then we watched tv together a little bit before he headed out. i do love his idiot friends, but i sort of wish they'd invite me to hang out sometimes. i know they do occasionally, and i know i can be a lot if you're not used to me, and i guess i shouldn't complain. but considering i don't really have a big group of friends, i just wanted to be a part of something more than once every like, two months. and not by accident, either. but i don't want to bother them, and i don't want to intrude. so again, comes back to the "shouldn't really complain." they're joel's friends after all. and the fact that they like having me around at all is nice. i just don't wanna fall back into old habits because i want friends.

i really need to talk to christine.

[uberrapidash]

vent post

I have done literally absolutely nothing for three of my classes in like, multiple months. The only reason I’ve been scraping by is because it’s music so ... like, no one is gonna know that I haven’t been practicing until it comes time to show what I’ve got. Except for one of the classes, I was supposed to have submitted recordings and stuff, but no one has reached out to me asking me why I haven’t done things. I’ll probably just receive a failing grade in the class.

But I feel so overwhelmed, I hardly even have energy to care. Like, I can’t walk 20 feet without my heart being like “oh shit!” and shooting up to a minimum of 160bpm. Minimum. I feel incredibly tired and weak and fatigued all the fucking time and I am so sick of it. 

I guess I’m having a really bad flare because of surgery. My life is changed for the better because of surgery and I feel guilty for being so negative but I’m really not trying to erase the positive. Things are just really, really negative.

Some of the things causing me anxiety are unknowns, like, how am I going to retain health insurance for next year when I wasn’t able to work this year? I couldn’t get on the marketplace insurance before because of being unemployed, and my disabilities aren’t officially recognized. I also need to apply for SSI.

And as far as I understand, I’ll have run out of student loans for next semester. But I don’t know for sure until I fill out the FAFSA and meet with an advisor. I’m told by people that there is probably something that can be done since I am so close to graduation and colleges/universities want their students to pass because it reflects on the institution. But I am not hopeful. I’m terrified. And I have been relying on student loans to pay my bills and just get by.

I have been suicidal for a really long time this time around. There were a couple times where I wasn’t feeling as bad, like when I learned my surgery was approved to be covered by insurance, and then during the first part of the recovery process because my back pain was gone. But now my back is hurting again, although it’s not like it was before -- it’s only when I wash dishes; I’m trying to remind myself that I sustained repeated injuries to my muscles and skeleton for years, and so of course I’m going to need some sort of physical therapy to help my body regain strength, so of course washing dishes is still going to be difficult until I’ve healed and then started working on the long-term injuries.

And I can’t be on my Adderall right now because of this flare, so shit all is getting done.

I feel stupid and like 99% non-functional. Fuck, today I haven’t even taken off my fucking bra and checked my incisions and massaged the scar tissue like I’m supposed to multiple times a day. I’m so bad right now that I can’t even take care of this huge fucking wound on my chest.

How am I supposed to find support for things like making sure that I’m eating and bathing? My car payment is over 2 weeks late and I have money to pay it, but paying it is just so hard. My fucking idiot of a fucking brain doesn’t know how to pay it. Last time, someone called me when it was like a week late and I asked them to walk me through to the website and logging in and stuff. This time, I just haven’t been answering my phone or checking my voicemails, because my anxiety and freeze/fawn is through the fucking roof. I should probably be in a hospital. 

And goddamn I need a fucking desk. I cannot deal without a desk anymore. I do my homework on the kitchen bar, the couch, or in bed. I need a desk. It’s a huge barrier to not have a desk where I can go to a place to do the non-preferred tasks like homework and checking email and paying bills. So not only do I have to make myself do the thing, I also have to go through the several steps it takes in order to even begin doing the thing. 

This is on top of the million other things going on in the world

The tension and hatred and fear in the air is tangible and I feel actually physically ill from it. 

I should be working on German stuff due tonight but I think instead I’m going to work on trying to set up my corkboard that I recently moved to the living room. A new “bullet journal” concept that I’m trying.

I really want to rearrange the living room but Aaron doesn’t want to. I feel like I need to. The living room is a trap. I go onto the couch, and then I’m stuck there. I need a more open floorplan/layout. I don’t think he understand how important it is to me. 

[kachinnate]

we’ve finally come time for the one (1) annual Kayla’s Having a Bad Time post 

i don’t know anymore what exactly is wrong with me but wow!! is it bad!!! and wow do i hate it !!!!! i have not gone a day w/o crying in like a week and a half and i’m so tired, i’m literally so tired of hating myself just for existing and i’m tired of all the little things that should not upset me upsetting me only because they’re in masse, only because all together it’s so much and i only have two fucking hands 

and like in the back of my mind even fucking still i’m like “.... okay but placebo effect. okay but you aren’t really sad tho. okay but you literally just don’t want to get better you are doing this for attention you are doing this bc being content would be easy and you just want to stir the pot clearly, just stop” to the point where i’m like I Guess I Have To Prove to even myself that i am fucking justified in feeling the way that i do before my brain gaslights itself into thinking that there was never anything wrong with me to begin with and that i’ve fucking put myself in this hole myself for no reason other than ... i don’t even know! i don’t know 

makes a list in my notes :) to remember all the heinous bullshit going on :) and maybe for catharsis reasons i don’t fucking care anymore 

- it’s the anniversary of the thing. you know. ;) the kind of traumatic experience of having the people i called best friends fucking uhhh pick on me every day for the entirety of like eight months - on my eating habits on my behavior on my anxiety on the things they knew i fucking hated about myself - only for them to just. drop me all of a sudden, on THEIR own terms, as if I was the one who fucking did anything to THEM, thus rendering me from never getting my own fucking closure from the situation ! i have both of them still added as friends on snapchat and i follow them on instagram because for some reason i know that if i just blocked them it would cause problems (what problems?? what arbitrary fucking problems???) seeing their faces makes me feel literal actual dread, i can’t go to one of the restaurants in my town alone because they work there and i hate it ! i hated every second of april 2019 - september 2019 where i felt fucking psychotic for being upset over this situation, where i couldn’t convince myself that i wasn’t insane for being strung up and i couldn’t even call it trauma until like march when someone coined it that for me themselves lol ,,,, i hate myself for still giving them my thoughts, i hate myself for wondering that in a different universe where i wasn’t as fucking stupid or ditzy if they’d still talk to me. i hate myself for wondering if ***** looks at the message i left on her poster last april where i told her how much i admired her and loved her and thinks about me, because that was probably the last time i ever said anything real to her, which... haha. what a JOKE right? 

- my rsd has somehow fucking spiked and gotten so much worse in like.. the last eight days. literally when i first posted ‘sweet hibiscus tea’ i went and checked it a few days after and it had like. two dislikes? and i like. cried? :) which is so dramatic and i hate it djksgndsg i can’t go a day reading messages or texts from anyone who talks to me without finding one that’s not inherently positive and picking it apart until i’ve hurt myself over something that wasn’t even related, im too sensitive about EVERYTHING but i don’t know how to address it or deal with it so i just don’t which i think is... why it’s getting worse oop. it gets triggered by literally fucking everything i hate it here 

- one of the only things bringing me any sort of serotonin rn is making content. hense the hyperfixating on my r and on this oneshot and on the writing meme things, like. it makes me feel productive, but hyperfixating for me oftentimes leads to a bad headspace which makes me fucking disoriented when i come out of it, and like. ofc there’s the typical things w it too like me forgetting to do other shit like eat or whatever but it’s literally been the only way i can cope with myself. making things. getting validation for things. if i can entertain someone for like, ten minutes, maybe anything i do matters. maybe. fuck. 

- i can’t not self isolate myself when things are bad, i just. can’t sdjgnsd like i hate talking about myself i hate talking about the way i feel because nothing makes sense?? i encourage people to talk to me when they feel bad but i can’t ever do the same for myself because i’m a hypocrite! and like the feelings of worthlessness overpower everything i do! convince me people don’t care and shit when i know that’s not the case, but if i acknowledge that then i have to think about how i’m being selfish by fucking moping but not talking to anyone, and i just! i cannot win !!! ever! 

- ^^^^ on that note, literally the few times i’ve felt okay recently i’ve had that ripped right from me by little things people close to me have done, like !! can you not vague me?? regardless of if you see that i’m doing bad mentally or not ???? i’m begging you , i’m so sorry that i’m not acting normal but can you for one second maybe consider that i’m a person ? i may be SAD but i’m not fucking STUPID so if i bother you just tell me ??? it’s the least you can do ??????

- scared i can’t love. scared i’m not morally a good person. scared that i’m selfish but don’t realize it. i wasn’t meant to have a confidant i don’t think and who am i to ever try and subject anyone to my fucked up head 

- i’m constantly fucking terrified on my dad’s behalf because this dude is 41 years old yet i’m the fucking adult out of the two of us most of the time? he comes home drunk so often and i’ve thought that he’s had alcohol poisoning more than once and i hate being fucking scared of having to like. contact fafsa or my college like “hey can u adjust my financial aid, because i’m kind of an orphan now? :’)” we don’t have any other family, i can’t ask anyone to help me it’s literally me and him against the world and he’s put me on this pedestal of being an amazing daughter so i feel guilty at the thought of anything happening to him as if i’m his fucking guardian. he drinks so much and he’s so infidelious and ridiculous so what’s going to happen when i leave ? 

it’s just. so much. but i don’t want to be a beacon of negative shit because even after all of this i’m self conscious of making other people sad so i pretend that everything’s fine on my sc and in person , which i know gives off the vibe of “but she’s not even acting sad? :///” when i offhandedly mention anywhere that i’ve been depressed and i just. i’m sorry that i don’t post about how when i’m not staring at my huion screen i’m fucking staring at the wall wondering if anyone would fucking notice other than my dad and my coworkers if i just disappeared without a word

it feels selfish to complain about my life feeling bad with all the shit going on, too, on top of that. so it’s better if i just don’t say anything at all, there’s other shit to deal with other than my life falling apart because really this just happens every year around this time doesn’t it. i’ll get over it. i’m being dramatic and stupid and in like two months none of this will even fucking matter 

tldr; i need to get my meds upped or something 

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Tony Stark’s Guide to Being a Functional Adult

Step 6: Go Back to School (AO3)

TW: Ableist Language

A couple of weeks later he came out of his room to find Bucky on the couch, buried in a blanket and staring at the dark TV.  “Good morning,” he said cautiously.

Bucky made a noise and as Tony came closer, he said, “I can’t today.”

“Can’t what?”  When Bucky was silent, Tony went over to see that Bucky’s eyes were dull and tired as they looked up at him from under the blanket and hood of his sweatshirt.  He reached over and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, it’s fine. I got it.  I can take care of the shop today.” He started to get up but frowned when he saw the date on his phone.  “Wait, isn’t today doctor day?” he asked.  When Bucky just grunted, Tony squeezed his shoulder again.  “Hey, I know these days are grueling, but you always feel better when you’re done, right? So how about we just close the shop for the day and I’ll drive you everywhere you need to go.”  When Bucky didn’t respond, Tony tried a different tack. “If you don’t go today, you’re going to need to call and cancel and reschedule,” he said, smothering a smile when he saw Bucky’s glare.  “It’s easier to just go,” he wheedled. “You don’t even need to talk to me, I’ll just be your chauffeur.”  After a long minute, Bucky sighed.

"Fine,” he said, sounding defeated even as he kicked off the blanket and got off the couch.   As he shuffled towards the door, clearly intending to go to all of his appointments wearing his pajamas, Tony hurried around the house making sure he had Bucky’s wallet and his phone and the medical paperwork he’d stacked on the counter the night before.   He steered Bucky towards his own car instead of Bucky’s, because his car had heated seats and that seemed like something Bucky could really use right about now.  “Thank you,” Bucky mumbled as he fastened his seatbelt.  “I’m sorry for making you drive me around today.”

“You’re not making me, I offered,” Tony said firmly.  “I demanded, really.  Besides, we’re a team, right? Just let me do this for you today.”

The first stop was Bucky’s therapist, where Tony dropped Bucky off out front and waited in the car for him to finish, wanting to be respectful and give him as much space as possible.  When he came out, Bucky seemed to be a little lighter, standing a bit straighter, though he still had the hood to his sweatshirt over his head and his feet were shuffling as he walked across the parking lot.  Next was Bucky’s physical therapist, and this time Tony followed him inside because he was tired of sitting in the car.  

While Bucky slouched in the chair in the waiting room, Tony wandered around the office, looking at the informational posters and brochures they had on the wall.  He picked up one for prosthetics, curious, and sat back down next to Bucky.

“I tried one of those,” Bucky said, glancing over at the brochure.  “Hated it.”

“Why?”

Bucky shrugged and made a face.  “It just…it’s not an arm, you know? Doesn’t move like one, doesn’t look like one.  I’d rather have no arm than a half-assed arm, I guess. It was just more trouble than it was worth.”

“Huh.” As Tony looked down at the pictures in the brochure and read through the stats, the nurse came out to call Bucky’s name.  He folded the paper up and put it in his pocket, then spent the rest of the hour while Bucky was doing physical therapy on his phone doing research.

(More after the break!)

*****

“So? What do you think?” Tony asked nervously.  “I know it’s a lot different than my application, but-”

“Unfortunately, for a project like this you really need to be in CUNY’s biomedical engineering program, they are the ones on the cutting edge of prosthetics research right now,” the professor said regretfully, leaning back in his chair and tapping his pen on the desk.  “Tanden really just doesn’t have the expertise and equipment you need.”

Tony felt his stomach drop.  “But the fall semester starts in a month!”

“You might be able to get a transfer, doctoral programs are a little more flexible about this sort of thing than undergraduate programs.”

“But what about my financial aid? Will that transfer?”

“Financial…aid?” The professor repeated, baffled.  “You’re not-“

“Never mind,” Tony said, wiping his hands over his face.  He’d figure it out somehow. “Um, so what do I need to do about this transfer?”

“I know the head of the department over there, so I’ll give him a call and he will start working on it from his end.  If you don’t get an email from me in the next day or two, give me a call, ok?”

“Thanks.” Tony shook his hand and was searching up the phone number for the financial aid office of CUNY before he was even out of the professor’s office.  He spent twenty minutes on hold with them, then another twenty minutes on hold with NYU’s financial aid office, and then even longer with the FAFSA office, only to get the same information from each person – it was too late to transfer his financial aid grant to a new university.  Doctoral fellowships and grants had already been awarded, along with all of the graduate teaching assistant positions and the myriad of other ways students financed their PhD.  His choices were clear: he could either stay with NYU and keep his aid package, or he could go to CUNY and pay out of pocket.  And CUNY was going to cost significantly more than the couple of hundred dollars he had in his pocket.

“Fuck,” he said, sitting down heavily on the nearest bench.  He buried his face in his hands for a moment, trying to concentrate on breathing and not freaking out, then he scrubbed his face and reached for his phone.

“Hey, Jarvis,” he said.  “I’m sorry to bother you but are you free? I really need to talk.”

Because Howard was in town, Jarvis and Ana met him at the bakery around the corner from the house, where they had sometimes gone for breakfast on Sunday mornings.  When he got there, they had ordered him a glazed cruller and hot chocolate, just like every Sunday since he was a child.  When he saw that Tony had to look away and count to twenty in Latin, afraid he was going to cry if he let himself. Cry again, that is, since frustration had already gotten the better of him on the drive over.

“Tony!” Ana said with delight, and they both rose to hug him as he came over.  “How are you doing?” She framed his face with her hands and studied him, looking concerned.  “Oh dear.  You are not doing well,” she tsked. “What’s wrong?”

Caught before he could even get a word out, Tony sighed and rested his head on Ana’s shoulder, shoulders slumping.  “Everything,” he said pathetically.

Ana let him sit down and she and Jarvis listened attentively while Tony told them the whole situation.  They exchanged glances when Tony mentioned the marriage, but thankfully held their tongues until Tony was finished speaking.

“So you and this – Bucky, you said? – are fine?” Ana asked.  She put a hand over Tony’s.  “It’s just, this marriage thing seems so sudden.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” Tony said honestly.  “I just, care about him so much and I want to be able to help him, but...” He blew out a breath. “Despite everything, it seems like it’s coming down to money.”

“Have you not looked in the box Maria sent you?” Jarvis asked with surprise.

“No.  I thought it would just be, I don’t know, letters or drawings from my childhood or something, and I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that. Why?”

“Honey,” Ana said, part sympathetic and part exasperated.  “You know your father isn’t the only wealthy one in that marriage, right?”

“I know.” Tony rolled his eyes.  Maria had been old money, from a high society family that had not been impressed with how Howard had made his billions.  Her parents had died when Tony was pretty young, so he only had dim memories of a fancy piano room and Howard’s periodic grumblings about those “snooty bastards.” “But I can’t ask Mom for money.  If Howard found out…” Tony could just imagine the gloating, the condescension.   Even if Tony got rich on his own right, Howard would still say that he only did it because of Maria’s money.

Jarvis shook his head.  “Maria’s parents gave you money for every birthday and holiday since you were born,” he said.  “They were very excited to have a grandson, and fought with Howard constantly about seeing you more often.”

Tony stared at him blankly. “Are you saying that there is money in that box? My money? Why didn’t they ever say anything about it?”

“It was for an emergency,” Jarvis said.  "I'm sure your mother never thought you would need it."

Ana nodded. “But for you, sweetie, I think this situation is rainy enough to qualify.”

After that, Ana and Jarvis could tell that Tony was anxious to see if his mysterious inheritance was in fact what was in that deceptively small box from Maria, so they made excuses to leave as soon as he was done eating so he wouldn’t feel guilty about racing home immediately.  Bucky was in the garage under a Toyota, singing along to the radio, so Tony shouted hello as he raced up the stairs and dug the box out from under a pile of dirty laundry.  He realized his hands were shaking as he opened up the box and forced himself to take a deep breath.  With controlled movements, he leafed through the papers inside and found his birth certificate, his social security card, the title to his car, and, at the bottom, just like Ana and Jarvis had said, recent statements for a savings account in his name, with Maria’s parents listed as custodians.

“Jesus,” he whispered, looking at the account balance. Every year from his birth to their deaths, his grandparents had given him the maximum amount they could without it being taxed by the IRS; last year, it would have seemed like a pittance, but right now it felt like a fortune.   He was still in a daze, sitting on the floor of his bedroom with all the papers scattered around, when his phone rang.  He jumped and fumbled it out of his pockets, frowning with confusion when he saw it was Bucky.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I don’t know if you want to come downstairs, but your dad’s here,” Bucky said, and Tony could tell that his voice was tight with anger.  “He’s asking for you, but if you want, I can tell him to go piss off.”

“No, I’ll be right there.”  Tony shuffled everything together into a pile and set it on his bed before jogging down the stairs.

“Anthony,” Howard bit out as soon as he saw Tony. “What in the hell do you think you are doing?”

“You are going to have to be more specific,” Tony said.  “I’m doing a lot of stuff, and thanks to you, exactly none of it is your business.”

“Oh, really? If it’s none of my business, why did I get a phone call from someone working at the county clerk’s office asking for twenty thousand dollars or they will sell the news that Tony Stark just married some nobody from Brooklyn to every tabloid in the nation?” Howard shoved a faxed copy of Tony and Bucky’s marriage license in Tony’s face, almost hitting him in the nose.

“Well, it’s not my fault that someone at the county clerk’s office is a money-grubbing asshole,” Tony said calmly, taking the paper from Howard and crumpling it into a ball. “Do what you want with the information, I don’t care.”

For the first time in Tony’s life, Howard seemed speechless.  “This has gone on long enough,” he finally said.  “This little experiment.  Clearly this marriage is just meant to get my attention and you know what, it worked.  You’re going to come home, well get this…this marriage,” he said with distaste, “annulled, and if you are still insisting on this doctorate insanity we’ll see if you can do it part time or something.”

Tony stared at Howard in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere,” Tony said finally.  “My marriage,” he said, echoing Howard’s snooty tone, “has nothing to do with you, and neither does my doctorate.”

“Oh please,” Howard sneered.  “You can’t convince me that this guy is anything other than some handicapped, money grubbing-“

“You will shut your goddamn mouth right there, do you understand?” Tony said dangerously, taking a step closer to Howard.  In the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky surreptitiously reach for a wrench from the work table, and felt a rush of warmth that Bucky was ready to leap to his defense.  “Bucky is a better man than you will ever be, do you understand?  He let me into his home, he gave me a job, and he’s been gracious and caring and none of it had anything to do with your goddamn money.  Do I love him? I don’t know, I might. But I’m starting to suspect that because of you, maybe I have a fucked up idea of what love feels like and looks like, so despite your gracious offer,” Tony said with a snarl, “I think I’m just going to stay right fucking here living my fucking life because I am doing just fine without you!” Tony didn’t realize he was starting to yell until he finished his sentence and was out of breath.  He pressed his lips together tightly because he was pretty sure that the only other thing that was going to come out of his mouth was going to just be a string of profanity.

Howard narrowed his eyes and started to speak, but just then Bucky stepped up beside Tony and said, “You need to leave,” with a look in his eye that said leave or I’ll make you.  Howard took one look at him, at the wrench in his hand and the set of his shoulders, and turned on his heels.

“Have it your way,” he said.  “I give the paparazzi a couple of hours before they are swarming you.” Then he slammed the door on his Aston Martin and peeled away with a screech of tires.

Tony exhaled and his shoulders relaxed as his father drove away.  He heard the clank of Bucky putting the wrench down and then there was an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into Bucky’s chest.  “Well, that was intense,” Tony said, resting his head against Bucky’s collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky agreed.  “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? You were here for the whole thing.”

“Not your dad,” Bucky said, sounding like he was grinning a mile wide.  When Tony drew back from the hug and looked at him with confusion, Bucky’s smile somehow got wider. “The part where you said you might love me.”

[imhermoonbeam]

I know that a lot of people in and out of the community think that butch/femme is just mimicking heterosexuality but let me tell y’all something

I absolutely fucking love taking care of my butch. I love having dinner cooking and making the house smell nice when she comes home from work. One time I had made Spanish rice the right way and you could smell it from outside the house and she walked in the door and immediately told me “I hoped that that smell was coming from our house as soon as I got out of the car.” Her job had been shit that day-as it was most days-and having something like that makes the day a little more bearable.

I absolutely fucking love that she will ask me at midnight to make her coffee and a grilled cheese. She’s not a woman that asks, she’s a woman that does. But she will ask me. And I will do, because I love her and I love to take care of her.

I love making her snack plates on days I won’t be home from work to take care of her early enough, I don’t do it every day, but when I do you can sure bet she brags about me slicing a few pieces of cheese and some carrots because it makes her feel special and loved.

I love hosting holidays and getting the house cleaned and in shape and and allowing her the time to just do nothing and watch some tv or play some video games. I love making all of the food and entertaining and tending to our guests. We’re poor and do not always have much to give, but when we do we give our best.

I love waking up early on my days off and making her breakfast in bed so she can just sit and relax a little bit longer to recoup from the week. I do little things for her, not because I am expected to, but because I want her to feel special.

That, my friends, is what my love for her looks like and absolutely none of it is compulsory or pressured. She likes to say she got what every man wants. And it’s true, she has it. She takes care f me in her own ways. She always scratches my back, and she takes my bra off for me almost every night. Not because it’s a promise for sex, but because I ask her to. She brings me dinner when I work late and always opens doors for me. She actually asked me, on our first date, if she could open all of my doors. And on our third date asked me to be a bitch about her opening my doors lest she forget. It’s now my favorite thing to say to people, while I await an opened door, to say in the snobbiest voice possible “Oh, I don’t open doors.” I am always cold, and if I ever show the slightest twinge of a shiver her jacket goes off her shoulders and onto mine, over the jacket I am already wearing.

She loves to sit and watch me knit, and take pictures and joke about me being such a granny despite being 16 years her junior(hey, if a man can do it so can she). She lights up whenever I mention going back to school, because she wants better for me and knows I want to do it. We’re filling out my FAFSA together this week.

She grumbles and her jaw ticks anytime I mention somebody being slightly rude or creepy towards me. She always has to be on the outside of the sidewalk so she can protect me from passing vehicles if need be. We make out anytime people stare at us, presuming it is safe to do so, to make all the fuckboys jealous.

We love each other and we show it how we please. It’s not a mimicry of anything, if anything it’s something the heteros will never have or understand. Because there will always be some sort of pressure to do it in a heterosexual relationship, and in a homosexual one if there is any surrounding pressure, for some reason it’s not to. I have yet to encounter such sentiments on an in person interaction but the day I do I will show whoever it is what it means to love from the soul.

[lesbianlychee]

i want to save money and get a car that i sort of need soon, but i somehow owe my therapist $450 ??????????? when each appt costs $20 and i saw her for 2 years and paid majority of my visits how tf is this possible????? idk but i’ll pay her off bc i can’t afford to dispute it any longer and my parents fucked up but they’re blaming me bc why not so i owe them $300 when they actually owe me $1,200 but that’s not important right?????????????????

i just want to be able to do things without relying on my parents to do something. i cant fill out my fafsa until my mom gives me the info i need. i couldn’t turn in the books until she prints out the shipping return label from her account. and my dad won’t do shit bc that’s who he is

would love to be able to rely on myself for some things huh

[armor-goblin]

wip meme

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on.

This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets - anything at all!

@long-liv-prairies and @roguelioness both tagged me! i’m working on a lot of stuff both real world and not:

- the next chapter of someday, which is giving me Grief (because it’s an anxious sort of chapter and boy are those hard to write, thanks @kagetsukai for helping me figure that shit out)

- the next chapter of when the sun comes, which is giving me Less Grief and really just needs to be finished up properly (but it’s the effective finisher to the storyline so it’s been hard to write too) (sigh)

- a chainmail dice bag for my little brother’s birthday/xmas gift (stalled because i can’t figure out how to put the bottom on) (this is due entirely to my ineptitude tho) 

- a knife sheath for my dad (stalled bc i have to go find the accurate measurements from A YEAR AGO) and a hair doodad for my mom (which i should just go ahead and design. i have so much copper wire. i bet i could hammer some into some leather?? HMMM) (can you tell i am very late on gifts for anybody this year)

- my armor (always and forever in redesign mode) (gotta get my vambraces up and running again)

- illustrations of all the custom races for my irl d&d campaign (i did do the kenku, so that’s one. of eleven. eugh) and of the deities (drafted, but not worked on, but @sloth-race suggested drawing them and that is a GREAT idea) 

- i guess my master’s degree!! i should do my fafsa oh my fuck. i really wanna power through that shit so i can start applying for higher level less-shelving-intensive jobs. this has just turned into a to-do list, tbh, which is my favorite kind of meme. 

i saw this go around a lot last night and i’m not sure who didn’t get tagged. @idrelle-miocovani? @star--nymph? @decadentvoidprincess? @jarino? @lonely-spaghetti? @sloth-race? i love to-do list memes so if you do too you’re also tagged.

[didsomeonesayventus]

idk i try to keep things a-okay on here but i just really need to vent on like.

everything.

god fucking dammit don’t you just love working twice as hard as your superior only to make like, what, a few dollars an hour less? yeah, checking salary data online my assistant manager, the one that DID NOT impress the area manager or whatever the hell the boss of my boss is, is making like roughly 4$ more than me every hour to do half as good a job in.. anything. Did I fucking mention her boss saw me working with her and someone else and mentioned to the actual manager he was only impressed with me??? god she can’t even be bothered to refill coins or fucking count the safe properly but will spend all her time in the back and make everyone else take on a workload she should be taking on herself because we’re already short staffed here and still losing people but no she’s getting fucking paid more than me- who drives myself to panic attacks to try keep up with making sure things are actually moving along and that people get their food -to basically sit on her ass and become dead weight that ends with me leaving later than I should. Fuck she tells me I work too hard, move too fast, but bitch I bet it’s because you can’t get on my damn level you mid-life crisis piece of shit. You’re like. at least 40. You’ve been a teacher. Why can’t you do better than Panda Express Assistant Manager that you didn’t even actually earn from what I hear you just schmoozed to the manager at your last location and didn’t get actual training to be a manager of any sort.

I can’t figure out groceries, I don’t know how to cook nor do I have motivation to so whatever I do get ends up spoiling, so I’m wasting so much money of my already small paycheck  (30-36 hours a week on 10.50$ an hour, pay every other week with roughly 15% of that taken for taxes)  eating out and even then not giving myself any sort of proper nutrition. I don’t exercise enough either or keep up with showers and teeth brushing and laundry like a person should be so I’m fucking withering away in full out shrug emoji and getting fat and unhealthy and letting everything decay okay maybe im not that bad but I really don’t care.

I can’t afford to go back to college this semester because I’ve been paying rent to my parents (and that ridiculous 450$ a month is due to go up because they could be selling our house for more than they got it for but can’t because me and my older brother are still living here so COMPENSATION I GUESS) and paying for my car (repairs AND gas for a clunker old enough to drive itself and bare minimum insurance) and paying for food and maybe SOMETHING to live for and make me feel okay for just a moment that’s like. stupid cheap generally less than 10$ in terms of price and generally having trouble limiting myself to stricter budgeting so I can actually save up and GOD DAMN don’t get me started on how the college down the street is so fucking packed that I can’t really take any courses unless I signed up like, back in may and I still don’t even know WHY I’m going to college besides “has to” and I can’t bother to fill out FAFSA and like fuck anyone would give me a scholarship since I’m so firmly average and so many people need it more than me.

I still have to make at least 10 job applications or I’m getting 100$ added to my rent because I guess if I hate my job so much why aren’t I getting another when I have no college degree no marketable skills and have been stuck in fast food for two years and therefore have no experience in anything desireable and I don’t know myself enough to sell myself  gee I wonder why I don’t have a better job dad :)))))) I can’t even really say im bright and cheery because that is fading and fading fast because of this damn job where I have no support and constant stress.

I have so much shit in my life i need to fix up. I’m turning 21 this year, I’m getting all these messages about how I should be moved out and on my own and going to college for something I’m so incredibly passionate about and living that wonderful youth life and maybe backpack across the country or whatever.

I have no passions. Art is a distraction and a hobby and no one likes it enough to buy it for dirt cheap anyways (that lunafreya piece came out to about 21$ in my commission pricing and took me like. probably 3 or 4 hours???? which translates to 7$/hour at best and 5.25$/hour at worst???????????) I can’t even write on my rp blog, the last little bastion of any of my love for writing and I don’t fucking care enough about grammar and all that to bother with going for an english major and I don’t have any stories long enough to merit writing and publishing and what’s finished is fucking stupid and not going to get a second glance.

but guess what I keep falling back on doing all these stupid drawings and losing myself in characters and hiding all this pain behind them like that makes it okay but no everyone comes out so fucking OOC to me because I impose so much of my hurt and sadness onto them heck YMX isn’t even fucking YMX anymore I’ve latched onto him so hard to give myself some way of pitying myself without actually pitying myself. you guys can go ahead and say it I’ve fucking ruined him he’s not even an actual character anymore I’ve stripped away literally anything that merits him as a younger Xehanort. You can also say I’ve completely lost sight of who Ventus is as a character and just keep writing fucking 2006-era Roxas.

god i want help. i want help so bad but i don’t feel like i actually need it i just need to get over myself and get moving but i can’t i can barely get myself out of bed in the morning sometimes cuz I just wanna keep sleeping and fuck work and fuck doing anything give me a twelve fucking year coma please and let me wake up talented and pretty and loved and actually worth giving a damn about and if not strangle me on those stupid christmas lights I got last year in a silly attempt to be festive and later to try and give some sort of aesthetic to my kleptomaniac’s bedroom at least I’ll give my life a nice poetic send-out. 

I can’t even get help anyways my parents just likely spent a fortune on my sister in hospital visits and therapy appointments because she revealed she was suicidal earlier this year (which fucking wrecked me I knew she was a mess but not that bad) and she’s so much better now and I’m so happy she is and her dog is kinda stupid and needs more walks but Matilda at least makes her happy but we can’t go through that song and dance again with me. We cant have two mental health crises in this family in one year and I most definitely cant ask for help i’ll look like an attention-seeking brat. that’s probably what I am I’m the second eldest out of five and a girl who didn’t have a mom figure I could approach for most of my life and don’t know how to approach my dad or step mother. no one will see i need help just that im looking for attention. fuck man that’s not even getting into how I’ve been in therapy before and in hindsight it feels fucking wasted whoo boy can’t wait to waste money again.

im tired.

I’m just kinda here. 

I’m not even sure if I could call it surviving.

[minniti]

why is education in america so fucking expensive ??? im from europe and i study at a private uni and i pay 300 euros a month (its basically 300 dollars) and its a huuuuuge strugle for me and my parents to keep up. how do yall study are u all rich lmao im joking but how srsly

*uni anon* btw public higher education here is like 100 euros a month and some people find that super expensive too so they give up and dont go to uni___

the best way i can describe it is that you’re kind of screwed? it’s like having to pay for a medication to live and you just kind of pay it bc you gotta.

even though it’s crazy, i’ll try my best to tell you what we do:

it’s expensive because it isn’t privatized or regulated, sort of like our healthcare. colleges can put a pricetag on what they think their education is worth, and because the government thinks things typically necessary past the age of 18 isn’t the most necessary to fund, they don’t.

almost all students apply for financial aid through the FAFSA (free application for student aid), and it gives a good amount of money totally dependent on you family’s income. i’ve been looking and it looks like i’ll have to pay very very little if not zero (through the estimated EFC– estimated family cost) as i only live with my father and he makes less than $25,000 a year and i’m on government assisted welfare and free lunch (to everyone who thinks i am rich,, lmao) there’s also grants, national merit scholarship and other scholarships, and a lot of low interest loans available. 

a funny thing is that i’m pretty sure i’m going to a private university, and those actually tend to give more money financially than public universities and colleges. for example, if you earn under $40,000 or so and get into harvard, you’re pretty much getting a full ride. how? private universities have an ass ton more money than public schools to give away, and the most “higher up” they are, the more money and typically less reason to give it as many students who get into incredibly good schools are very wealthy to begin with. this process is called “need-met”, and basically means that they will give me the money i need (not all are 100%!!) to go with the reductions from my fafsa. I’m trying to get into boston university for the 2018-19 year and with my grades and income right now it looks like they’d pay for $43,000 of it for my first year, if i had no fafsa, but with the likelihood the fafsa will calculate my EFC to be very low, they won’t have to give me much money as it’s already taken care of.

i have met people who have quit college because it was too expensive, but at the same time there are so many options for money and you don’t have to go to a university. local colleges are often a lot cheaper (long beach city college tuition for a year is $3,000 for california residents) 

i’m also fortunate enough to have grandparents who have saved about $23,000 since i was born for my college expenses and (though morbid) they’re very well off compared to my family and they don’t very much like their daughter (my mother) so i think i will get a lot of their inheritence :/ it’s a mixture of luck of the draw and intense planning. 

i can’t say it’s worth it but it’s just the way things are. i know it’s insane but when something like this is so drilled into the public, parents know to save up or their children are screwed. higher education is truly a privilege here.

[academla]

Update

Hey guys, I don’t know if you noticed but I’ve been a bit inactive lately. I was feeling much better with my depression but unfortunately it sort of came back and I’m stressed about school starting in a week.

First of all, I have to make amends with this girl I kind of dropped. I have to see Adam, the guy that dumped me during finals week. I have to fill out the FAFSA, which I really don’t want to do. I have to look for work. I have 40+ unread messages in my text inbox. I didn’t answer a parent who wanted me to babysit the other day. I’m stressed because I don’t even have the motivation to clean my fucking water bottle.

I’ve been writing nonstop (unfortunately I didn’t pace myself and am now scrambling to queue up a bunch of chapters before school hits) and I really do adore writing. Problem is, it’s fucked up my sleep schedule to where I’m going to bed at 4 or 5 am and waking up at 2 pm. Part of the issue is that I’ve been taking my antidepressant/stimulant at 2, which keeps me up, so I’m gonna start setting an alarm for that.

Anyway, I just feel like total shit right now, but I’m gonna get a handle on it. I’m seeing my therapist tomorrow. I’m going to take a deep breath and get through it one minute at a time. There’s this scene in my fic where one of my OCs gives this hardcore speech to Tina when she’s wallowing about her friend and Auror’s murder (it’s a long story). The speech is basically about how it sucks, and these are dark times, and more people are gonna die, but it’s on them now because they’re the ones who are alive and able to keep fighting. And she says that right now their only option is to be strong.

My only option, my only viable option at least, is to be strong. I have to do what I can to navigate a shitty shitty time in my life. I have to. I’m not giving myself the option of wallowing or avoiding life. I need to do this. This is the only choice I have.

I’ll keep you all updated when I can, but I wanted to update you on what’s been going on. (And of course there’s money, because I’m paying over $100 a month on therapy alone, not to mention medication, and virtually nothing’s going into my college fund, so that’s great.)

Thanks for your continuing support. I really do appreciate you all and hope that we can get through this together.

[roseophelia-blog1]

19.08.2020

I am unwell to put it lightly. My loving, caring, nurturing, supporting mother has decided literally two weeks before I start classes at my new collage that she is no longer going to help me out facially. Say goodbye to the parent loan she said she was going to do and the monthly aid she promised to give because I already work and go to school full time. Why might she do this? Because one Friday night a few weeks ago, I told her how I felt. I told her that I felt like she didn't support me and that I feel intently guilty about trying to kill myself because she already lost a child. I told her I wasn't asking her to “support my eating disorder” but to see me for me. For instance, not telling me that there is no point in me moving and changing schools because I am going to die, that I should change my major because I can't make it through nursing school because of my ED or that the intensive out patient program I went to once and the support group for people with ED’s that I reached out to wasn't good enough in her mind. I told her my experience with the doctor I received “treatment” from four years ago to which she said I was delusional and it was “Just my ED voice talking.” I have never asked my parents for financial support and the one time I seriously need it, they bail last minute because they don't want to ignore the obvious and until I check myself into a inpatient residency center for people with eating disorders, they will no longer give any sort of financial aide. Here is my question, how in the hell am I supposed to find the time to go to possibly go to doctor’s appointments or treatment options if I now have to work double what I used to and go to school full time? Plus, what financial support would be needed because if I did what my mother wants, I would no longer be living in my apartment or attending school. My mother doesn't even want to fill out the fucking FAFSA which determines how much the government will give me for student aide but luckily my dad said he would do it for me. This is what I get for being ballsy and thinking maybe now my mother will understand. Now that I am older she might just get it. I was fucking wrong and now I have to pay rent at two places, my tuition and the other bullshit that comes with moving completely by myself. Me moving was supposed to be a positive thing, a new chance at life literally but she managed to destroy that too.  The funny thing is, she wants to help me move! She had point blank told me she doesn’t see a point in me investing in my future because I won’t be there long enough to witness it so she takes away my dad’s money as punishment but, wants to help me move? The whole financial support is punishment. Until I do what she wants, I will not be helped and even something that doesn't even connote as support from her like the FAFSA forms, she refuses to do. Incase anyone was curious, I went to a doctor to get a physical and blood work done. The doctor is aware of my ED because I told them and so blood work was done to match the circumstances. Other than being about 10 pounds under weight and having low vitamin D, I am perfectly healthy. My mom wants to believe I am sick though. She wants to believe that I need to be in a impatient facility to get better, that I am dying, that i could faint, go into cardiac arrest. She wants to believe all that. Despite none of that happening and the proof from a medical doctor that I am not in danger, she refuses to acknowledge it. I will never win against her. Apparently, me getting into a 4 year collage, starting a new job and that not isn't the kind of forward progress she is looking for. Neither was the support group or IOP program. There’s no point. She will never see me as successful, healthy, recovered. She will never be proud of me because she has convinced her self that I need her. That I am broken. She is wrong. 

[momentous-motives]

5th Year Senior

It’s been about 4 years since I had access to this account, and I wished I would have logged my college experience more throughly. But from the very first post I made I see that I was more focused on gaining a career and building long lasting relationships. So I am pleased to say that I do have a job lined up for me once I graduate. I’ll be a data analyst for a financial institution. But I want to focus more on my actually college journey. My memory is limited, but the actions I’ve taken have a lasting impact on my life. Here’s some much needed advice, once you graduate from high school or enter the working world there isn’t enough lenience if you decide to fuck up somewhere. You can’t go back and start all over (I mean technically you can, but this will set you back for months maybe even years). 

I’m a 5th year at the University of Georgia majoring in Applied Mathematics and minoring in Computer Science. It feels so weird typing this because when I first entered “college” I started off at a technical school (not even a community college) and my major was accounting. Going to that technical school literally set me back a year. My admissions test score were well above the average yet I was still taking courses like intro to Economics and pre-calculus! They didn’t give me any placement test so I basically had to start at square one even though my high school curriculum prepared me for actual college courses. I’m thankful that the classes were cheap, but there was no point in me attending that school and I could’ve/should’ve used that year as a sort of gap year. Oh well.

From Gwinnett Technical college I jumped into Georgia Gwinnett College because it offered a variety of college classes that the technical school didn’t. I’ll go into my adventures at GGC for another time, but some where between 2016 and 2017 I slipped up as a student. College wasn’t interesting/challenging enough but I didn’t have enough money to get into a state school at the time. 

Fast forward to spring 2018; that’s when I transferred into UGA. At that time I was an Economics major with a minor in mathematics. My first semester grades were so average. I only took 3 classes and I got a B+ in Calculus 3, a B in Business Law, and a B- in Intermediate Microeconomics. 😂That summer I decided to become a a math major and minor in computer science. I definitely wasn’t prepared to make that switch! I’ve never worked with proofs and mathematical reasoning and my study habits were shit, also I was working a lot to save up enough money to pay for rent and other important expenses so my time management skills were severely underdeveloped! Fall 2018 (when I was officially a math major) was one of the worst semesters for me. I didn’t fail any classes, but I got a C-, C+, B, and B+ and ended up dropping my stats class because I was drowning in school and work. To be honest the classes that I signed up for didn’t make any sense. I was a new math student and decided to compound on upper level classes because I wanted to graduate on time, but that was the dumbest mistake ever because I had to retake the class I got a C-. I could’ve just stuck with one upper level math course and ease myself in, but I dived in and obviously drowned. 

Spring 2019 and Fall 2019 were really great semesters for me though, and now I’m down to my last semester. Yet I’m considering going back to school to get another bachelors in Computer Engineering. The University of Arizona (one of the school’s that I got accepted into but couldn’t go because my father ruined my financial aid benefits) has an online degree program for Computer Engineering and the University of Florida has an online degree program for Computer Science. What I realized is that life is to short to be making dumb mistakes, but I shouldn’t rush into things just to be “up-to-speed” like others around my age. I tried rushing during fall 2018 (and spring 2018 when I transferred) and that set me back a semester. I also tried rushing when I decided to go to the technical school which was the biggest waste of time! That truly did set me back one year, but I wanted to be on the same level as everyone else. Going back to school for a second bachelors might seem like a waste of time for some, but I’ve taken an interest in STEM, these majors have very good prospects in the future, but most importantly those degrees will teach me how to become a builder. Math is great for creating problem solvers, but a major in engineering is great for creating builders. Also the classes seem like so much fun! 

My life is now in my hands, before I was at the mercy of my parents. My mother never went to college and my father cared more about his money then my future. I should write a short post on how he messed up my financial aid scholarships and benefits. I had so many options to attend schools for “free”, but if the FAFSA isn’t right then you’re done for (unless your parents or guardian save some money for your schooling, mine did not). It’s funny how they pushed me to go to college, but didn’t have a plan or saved up like 5000$ for me. I’m getting mad just thinking about all the fuck shit my parents have done to me, but thankfully I’m a grown woman and my life is no longer in their hands to ruin! 

[babblefish24]

Fear and Loathing in Hanoi (pt. 1)

I’m writing from my 5th story ̴f̴̴a̴̴n̴̴c̴̴y̴̴ ̴̴o̴̴f̴̴f̴̴i̴̴c̴̴e̴  s̶h̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶k̶s̶p̶a̶c̶e̶  table at my internship. 

Please Forgive My Fuck-Ass Writing (PFMFAW)

I can understand why American troops, when in Vietnam in the 60′s, resulted to using opium to cope with platoon life. While I have the luxury of an AC’d apartment and a private space to beat off in, they did not. The 90 degree weather and the 60% humidity creates a sort of primal urge to attempt some crazy bullshit...as if I’m going to jump-attack a passing moped in the name of Nixon’s America. 

The official reasons for me being here is because of an internship, fulfilling a scholarship requirement, and broadening my cultural/professional horizons. However, I know as a fact that none of those are the main reason. 

This is Professionalized Escapism™.

The same mind-frame that led me to Cape Town in 2018 has led me to Hanoi in 2019...fabulous. This trip is part of my attempt to squeeze as much life experience (professional or otherwise) out of my FAFSA dollars and university grants. Part of my brain is proud of this.

Killing two, three, four (maybe five?) birds with one stone is what a Boss would call efficient. It’s only natural that one would utilize whatever resources they have at their disposal. Might as well use the college-pesos while I can, before I have to pay for these schemes myself. (Schemes that I intended to keep doing until I get dragged out for tax evasion)

To quote a certain author...”When the going gets weird, the weird turn professional!”

This is my attempt to make My Weird turn into Professionalism. Partially out of passion, partially out of survival instinct. 

What comforts my neurotic soul is knowing that there are other people like this out here. Maybe not in this room I’m in, but in the world. I mean, fuck, maybe my whole generation is kinda like this. 

We late-90′s babies have been told that success is being able to be paid for our passion, perhaps without explaining the trials and tribulations of trying to do so. Or, better yet, if such an aspiration is even possible. 

However, I know I have one strength that not all of my peers have: I don’t know what will make me happy. If you don’t know what makes you happy, then you just keep trying one thing after another. 

Surly this experimentation can’t be bad. 

But, for now, I am in the warm, sweaty office of this creative agency. None of these questions are pressing right now, and I don’t need to find the answer to any of them.

I just need to find some other English speakers.