#COME ON MAN YOU GOT BETTER. I WAS DOING SO WELL WITH MY NEW EYEDROPS. AND NOW ITS ALL BACK TO SHIT

[weirdlizard26]

FIRST DAY OF CLASS IM ALREADY SO STRESSED,, HOW TF AM I SUPPOSED TO BOTH WORK AND STUDYDSKNJFGDGD WHY DID I TAKE THAT JOB OFFER FUCK!!!!!!

#wl26 #guy who is so overwhelmed #i need to get this assignment done for tomorrow and im just sitting here kgdjfnd #and now my boss sent me a link to a google sheets and i still havent figured out my schedule and i need THAT done by monday #hell on earth #ITS NOT EVEN #LIKE #WHEN I SAY IT OUT LOUD IT DOESNT SOUND LIKE MUCH ATALL #BUT YALL KNOW I TAKE ONE MILLION YEARS TO DO ANYTHING HOW AM I GONNA SURVIVE THISGKDJNFGDFGD #GUY WHO IS SO STRESSED #IM ALSO UPSET BC. MY EYES STARTED HURTING AGAIN #AND IM JUST SO. ARGHGRHGHRGHRHGRH #COME ON MAN YOU GOT BETTER. I WAS DOING SO WELL WITH MY NEW EYEDROPS. AND NOW ITS ALL BACK TO SHIT #FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #wl negative #I GUESS. DIDNT REALLY PLAN FOR THIS TO BE A VENT POST BUT HERE WE ARE

[side-shawty]

What the Tech?

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: Damian Wayne with a quirky, tech-savvy girl.

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Reader

Requested? YES by Anon

This is an old old old request that I found in my drafts when I had a different fic account and I figured I’d share it with all of you. I was too shy to post things like this back then but now I’m more than happy to. (I couldn't find the og request so that's what it is lol)

-Duckie

Stupid Hackers.

Technically speaking it wasn’t exactly Damian’s fault that his katana had practically sliced Tim’s laptop in half. He should have never been working so close to the training area in the first place.

So now here he was, spending his free period in the library grumbling at his laptop as he attempted to break the codes that Tim had put on it as his way of revenge.

That was when you walked in. As per usual, you were spending your free period working on a new coding program in hopes of impressing the judges at the Wayne Tech contest next month. You always impressed the judges. However, it became harder and harder to work with Damian Wayne cursing under his breath and slamming on keys.

With a sigh you stood up, dark curls swishing in your face with the speed, and waltzed over to him.

You put a hand on the desk he was working at and leaned over the back of the computer, “What exactly did that laptop do to you?” You questioned looking curiously at your fellow senior.

“And what does it matter to you?” He asked without ever looking up at you.

“It matters because I can feel your frustration from the other side of the library, Damian Wayne.”

At the use of his full name the young heir finally looked up at you. This was your first time seeing him so close since the week-long project you did together freshman year. Since then it had been distance looks from the other side of the classroom and your stupid school girl crush came back ten-fold.

He was no longer the baby-faced 14-year-old and puberty had hit him like a truck. His face was all angles, blue eyes, and tan olive skin with a head of black hair that Y/N wanted to run her fingers through.

As Y/N cleared her throat and stood up straight again she failed to realize that Damian was having the same train of thought. He thought of how much she had filled out in all the right places and how she had gone from cute to dangerously sexy in the past few years—even in the school uniform. Her dark skin stood out against the pristine white of her button-down and her curls were a casually organized mess.

He cleared his throat, throwing a playboy smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Y/N Y/L/N, just the person I need. You’re good with computers right?”

You rolled your eyes, “Well I’d hope so considering I am the head of the computer club. What do you need?”

“One of my many idiot brothers has decided to put a series of codes and viruses on my computer and on it, I have a paper that’s due at midnight. Mind lending a hand,” he asked with a voice that could have made you rob a bank if he so desired. Walt, was he flirting with you?

“I’m sure if you just apologize and ask nicely he’d remove everything,” Y/N told moving around the table and leaning over slightly to have a better took at the screen.

“You don’t know my brother,” Damian scoffed, “he’d make me grovel and I refuse to ever have to stoop to that humiliating level,” he said, nose in the air and crossed arms.

You sighed, “Well move over and let me see what the damage is,” you motioned him to switch over to the next chair whilst you took his seat and got straight to work.

As time ticked by the awkwardness that had settled in the silence was driving Y/N crazy so she stared to ask Damian questions while she worked and soon enough he began to ask too. The awkwardness was long forgotten by the time the bell interrupted Damian’s next question about animals.

“Well if you have a last period class I can finish up here. I have computer graphics but I’m excused for today,” Y/N told him.

“It’s fine,” Damian replied, too quickly before he cleared his throat and regained his composure, “I have history but Mrs. James is so old she’ll forget to take attendance again.”

“Okay, well in that case maybe we should take a little break,” you stood and stretched all of your limbs exposing just a bit more leg that the young man couldn’t help but stare at as you went back into a standing position and held your hand out to him. He took it almost instantly and felt a warm electricity in his hand and spread all through him. you gave him a warm smile before walking to the vending machines just outside of the library.

“Pick anything you want, this one’s on me,” you said with a wink and never let go of his hand as you fished a debit card from your breast pocket.

Damian got an energy bar and you got a pack of skittles, your hands were intertwined until you sat down again and Damian felt an immediate loss of warmth.

You were about to start working again when you froze, “Good lord Damian is your brother so kind of brainiac level hacker? He put like fifteen more locks on it while I left,” You gave a heavy sigh and leaned far back in your chair, silently counting to ten before pulling eyedrops from your bag, using them, throwing your curls into a messy bun and cracking your knuckles.

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, “Maybe I should just rewrite the paper.”

You laughed and patted his shoulder reassuringly, “Don’t worry I can help.”

And with that, you stood to get your abandoned laptop from its place at the next table over just as the bell ending the final class of the day sounded.

You and Damian looked to each other in question.

“Do you, uh, wanna finish this back at my place?” Damian asked bashfully with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No!” you answered too quickly, and it took everything for the Wayne heir not to flinch, “Um, I mean, we can just go to my house. I live closer and, uh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” it was your turn to look sheepish as Damian smiled softly.

Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable Damian said, “Okay, I’ll drive.”

And that’s how it started. Every day you and Damian would meet up during free period and then after last class (if either of you went) he’d drive you home. His excuse was because he insisted that the beginnings of October were much too cold to walk home in a skirt and tights.

You couldn’t argue and you didn’t really want to.

During the daily meet-ups, Damian couldn’t help but notice the little things about you, like how you never wore the uniform tie and seemed to have a different color or patterned one every day. How you loved to change up the style of your curly hair as much as you could.

One day after school you asked Damian if he could drive you to the hair solan instead of home and when he asked why you saw a glint of sadness in his eyes. Why would you want to change anything about those beautiful curls?

But when you told him you were going to get box braids he seemed much happier. He even stayed with you for all the hours it took to finish them. This was when Damian knew he was in too deep, going as far as checking on your house during patrol and never telling the others why he’d stopped coming home immediately after school (or earlier).

Damian was happier and he knew the reason was you. He was happy with knowing that fact, and he told himself being your friend was more than enough. He was wrong.

Damian usually got to the library first but he got caught up talking to Colin and Maps on his way and when he got there your attention was occupied by one of the football players. He was obviously flirting with you and Damian hated the feeling that this gave him. But some of the tension fell when he realized how desperate you seemed to get out of that situation.

So Damian sprung into action and approached the two of you. You caught his eye over the jock’s shoulder. A look of utmost relief on your face and Damian cooly slid in and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Everything alright here, Y/N,” Damian asked as you placed a warm hand on his back in gratitude.

“Fine, Wayne, I was just asking Y/N here about her plans after the game on Friday,” the jock, Brandon, said smiling at you and doing his best to ignore Damian altogether.

Damian’s back muscles tensed beneath the white button-down at his words, “I’m afraid she’ll be otherwise occupied,” Damian replied and after being friends with him since the beginning of the school year you could read him much better now. But this was something different, like a mix of anger, and annoyance and…jealousy?

But that was crazy. Right? Why would Damian be jealous, it made no sense. Unless...

“Well, that's too bad. I guess we’ll catch up some other time, yeah?” He asked and you only nodded with a tight smile on your lips before Brandon turned and left. But Damian never let go of your shoulders.

You looked up at him but his eyes were glued to the spot that Brandon once stood, glaring.

“Damian,” you said looking to get his attention.

And when he turned to you, all of the tension instantly left him and he found himself lost in your Y/E/C orbs, kind face showing nothing but concern for him. He took in all of your features, from the polka dot hair tie to the electric blue tie tucked beneath her sweater vest. He realized he’d been staring for too long, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” You asked and he smiled softly at you. A smile only you ever got to see.

“No it’s perfect,” he almost whispered.

Though the blush wasn’t prominent the heat worked its way into your cheeks anyway.  

“Good. Now quick question.”

“Mmm?” he hummed.

“We’re you jealous?” You asked with raised eyebrows and his eyes widened in the slightest.

He sputtered just a bit and released his hold of your shoulders in favor of standing across from you.

Damian didn’t look at you as he asked, “Does it matter if I was?”

You stood shocked for a few seconds at his earnestness before replying in a teasing voice.

“Damian Wayne was jealous over little old me? Wow wait until the papers hear about this one,” you said and he finally turned to you at that.

“I might have a better story for them,” he told you, and his sudden mischievous aura sent a tingle down your back.

“And what would that be?” You asked.

“This,” he said before unexpectedly closing the distance between the two of you in a sweet kiss. He tasted like peppermint and you were quick to melt into him as he placed his hands on your waist.

When you finally pulled back he was smiling and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh yeah, Vicky Vale would have a field day with that one.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x black!reader #tim drake #dc imagine #dc one shot #damian wayne x woc!reader

[miss-tc-nova]

Sunrise - Jihyun/V x Fem!Reader Pt 10 Finale

It’s the end! While I’m not as proud of this series as I am The Cat’s Meow, the fact I finished it when I didn’t think I would at all, I’m happy I finished it. I wanted to write something with more fluff than angst, though apparently that’s my cup of tea...I still hope you enjoyed this series. 

Part 10: A Good Ending

                “How is it you’re more worried about my surgery than I am?” chuckles Jihyun.

                “Shut up,” I argue, pausing in my pacing. “It’s not like you’ve been blind your whole life. I’m sure you’ve seen tons of beautiful things; including women...”

                That all-knowing smile crosses his lips and he holds an arm out. Against my wishes, I step forward into his hug. “Darling, I don’t have to see to know that you are the most beautiful women in the world,” he explains, holding me tightly.

                “Ugh. Don’t give me that ‘beautiful on the inside’ crap,” I grumble into his chest.

                “Well that cuts my speech down a little,” he chuckles. “But remember, I’ve had a lot of time to memorize your body.” His hand trails down to my waist. “I know every curve.” He continues lower, gripping my rear. “Every crease.”

                “Hey!”

                “Every inch of you.” Leaning in, he kisses my forehead. “I know you’re gorgeous. I’ve got a pretty clear picture of what you look like by now, unless you’ve been lying to me.”

                “Why would I lie?”

                He shrugs. “It would be easier to run away if I was giving people the wrong description.”

                “You idiot, why would I run away?” I growl.

                “Sorry. Old habits,” he mumbles.

                “Geeze. You dummy, I’m not going anywhere.”

                “Thank god,” he whispers, brushing his lips up against my nose.

                I giggle. “Was that your target?”

                “You know what, as long as my lips make contact, I don’t care what the target is,” he hums, taking my face so he has bearings now and kissing me properly.

                A nurse comes through to get Jihyun prepped. I fidget nervously in my chair and my heart sinks when they take him away. The wait is agony; I spend my time in the messenger talking to the others. Jumin assures me that the surgeon is the best he could find, but he doesn’t seem to understand that I’d worry regardless. The others seem to understand a bit more and reassure me, just a little.

                When they finally bring him back, it takes all my self-control not to get in their way or bombard them with questions. The nurse seems to notice and informs me that he’ll be awake soon and the doctor will return to check on him then.

                Fingers tracing his hands, I reminisce over our first meeting, when he was such a shy man who asked for nothing, who wanted to be nothing; who had been struggling with his demons all on his own. I thank my lucky stars that he had enough courage to ask me on that first date. He’s still a bit more on the selfless side, but not afraid to ask anymore. He’s grown and I’m so happy for him, even if I’m still nervous about what’s to come.

                He finally wakes and I nearly biff trying to get out the door for a doctor. I watch from the corner, as she pulls the bandages back to reveal eyes free of the sightless fog. She checks how they respond and asks how he feels, then goes over how he’s supposed to take care of them for the next few weeks.

                “Alright, Mr. Kim. I think you’re good to go. When you’re ready, just speak with the secretary at the desk for your prescription.”

                “Thank you.” She walks out and his eyes drop back to his hands as if he hasn’t ever seen them before.

                My heart is pounding in my ears and there’s so much racing through my head, but standing up, I step in front of him. Almost cautiously, his gaze trails up to my face.

                “How do you feel?” I ask softly.

                I can see his pupils scanning across my face. The renewed mint eyes hold a different kind of spark than I’ve grown used to and I already know I’m going to spend a lot of time staring into them.

                “_____?”

                I smile softly but, before I can say anything, he’s on his feet. In one swift stride, he closes the gap between us, capturing my face in his hands. A second later, he’s kissing me passionately. Mid-kiss, I peek at my boyfriend to find him staring intently. The sight is enough to make me laugh, breaking the kiss.

                “Do I look like what you imagined?”

                He peppers my face with a few more kisses. “Mmm, so much more beautiful. Nothing I’ve ever seen could outshine you. You are perfect.”

                His stupid words pull a giggle from my mouth. “Jihyun, stop-”

                “Wait wait wait,” he hisses desperately, catching my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. “Let me see your eyes!”

                The eye contact coupled with our close proximity is a little awkward but I get the chance to closely examine his eyes now that they portray the focus he has as an artist, the new light he’s acquired, and his excitement. The stripes of mint, turquoise, and varying shades in between set my stomach aflutter.

                “God, you’re so gorgeous,” he breathes.

                “Are you sure your eyes are fixed? ‘Cause this all sounds like nonsense to me,” I say with a nervous laugh.

                Jihyun’s gaze trails to the ceiling thoughtfully. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I’m absolutely positive that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Reaching out, he rests a hand against my cheek. “And I think I’d like to try my hand at painting.” His free hand takes one of mine, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “And I’d love to paint you.”

                My face is burning, but I’m determined not to be overthrown. “Paint a picture of me or paint on me?” I tease.

                Those eyes light up. “Painting on you is an option?” Mistakes made. The hand around mine pulls me closer and he uses that lower tone that makes my knees weak. “Oh we’re going to have so much fun.” Okay, nope. I can’t take it. The blush is winning and I have to hide my face against his chest. “What’s wrong, darling?” he chuckles.

                I look him in the eyes with a glare. “You’re a bully.”

                “Me?”

                “Yes you. Running around making everyone think you’re all sunshine and rainbows, but you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

                Eyes narrow and his head dips closer. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that the night you moved in.” I’m losing the war in the most miserable way. “Now, shall we go buy some paints?”

                It clicks. “Wait a minute! No! You’re not getting any paints! I heard the doctor! You have to relax!”

                “Aww…”

 ~~~~~

A Few Days Later…

                “Jihyun, you need to use your eyedrops,” I hum, bringing the bottle into the study.

                He glances back but a smile instantly slips over his face. The man looks content and lost in fantasies.

                “Hey, are you listening to me?” I push his hair out of his face, forcing him to look up at me.

                “Of course, sweetheart. I just got so caught up in your beauty that I couldn’t respond,” he says happily.

                I raise an eyebrow at him. “No excuses. Go take care of it before I have to tie you down and pour it over your face.”

                “Okay, okay. No need for threats,” he eases, standing up. Jihyun holds his hand out to me and I reach out to place the bottle in his hand. However, he reacts faster and takes my wrist, pulling me into his chest.

                “Ah! Jihyun!”

                He chuckles, staring down at me with a glistening light in his shining eyes. “Sorry. I’ve become distracted by the same beauty.”

                “You’re on the fast track to being tied down,” I grumble at him.

                “Fine, but give me a kiss first.”

                Rolling my eyes, I lean against him, stretching onto my toes. His lips press against mine hungrily and I know he’s getting even more distracted than he was earlier. Palm against him, I try to push away but he holds tightly.

                “Jihyun,” I laugh. “Go take your eye drops now!”

                “But _____,” he hums softly in my ear. “You are far too beautiful for me to leave.”

                “Eye drops now!” I demand but then my thoughts turn a little dirtier. “And perhaps I’ll reward you.”

                This seems to pique his interest. “Reward? You’d be hard pressed to find a reward better this.”

                “Well, I know we don’t have any paints, but I thought perhaps you’d like to finally see me,” I say, tracing the buttons of his shirt.

                He smiles slyly. “But my darling, I see you now.”

                My voice drops. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve only seen me clothed.”

                That interest manifests in an eager smile. “So you’re saying if I go take care of this now, you’ll be waiting for me in the bedroom?” he asks, holding up the bottle he’s managed to sneak from my hand.

                I crinkle my nose at him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

                In an instant, Jihyun is rushing out the door for the bathroom. Rather proud of my bribe, I wander towards the bedroom. I throw my socks in the laundry basket and run a brush casually through my hair. A pair of hands rest at my hips and a kiss at the base of my neck sends shivers down my spine.

                “That was quick,” I remark.

                “Well I was promised an incredible reward,” he replies in between kisses across my skin. “Do I get to unwrap it now?”

                “You can.”

#jihyun kim #mysme jihyun #mysme v #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger jihyun #jihyun kim x reader #jihyun kim x mc #jihyun x reader #v x mc #v x reader #mm jihyun #fem!reader

[agentmothman18]

Rapr

Being a science geek, Purple tended to do research on nights he couldn't sleep. Sometimes he would research things about space or what could possibly be at the bottom of the ocean. But tonight he decided to do human research and weird facts people dont know about.

One of those were about the pupils and how they dilate when looking upon someone you love. He found himself laughing at the thought, but he was curious to know if it was true. It would make finding someone to love you easier than it was.

Purple jotted down some notes and some reminders on a sticky note. He stuck it to his science notebook pulled off his red glasses. It was 1 am and Purple still had school tomorrow, which he wasnt looking forward to. They where having exams this week and tomorrow, or today rather, was history. His least favorite subject.

Turning his computer off, Purple got up and stretched his muscles. Being hunched over for so long really does a number on your body. Purple climbed into bed, fluffing his pillow before snuggling into his covers and closing his eyes.

One thing about Purple though, was that he tended to have restless nights. Nightmares kept him from ever getting good sleep. They were nightmares from his past, things that haunted him even to this day. Since he was an orphan, Purple's had plenty of foster parents. Most weren't to good to him. Until he was adopted by a woman and her wife. Gaz and Tak.

Gaz was the more scarier of the two, making sure Purple knew his manners and everything. While Tak was laid back, letting him do as he pleased. But Tak would discipline him if necessary. Purple was glad they adopted him, because they were the best people he could have ever wished for as parents. Plus, he got to make a lot of friends where they live. Like Zim and Red.

Purple woke to his alarm at 5:30 that morning. He always got up early to make sure he had everything and to get ready. Purple liked to look fashionable so that took up most his morning time. And sometimes he would were makeup, but those where only on days where he felt good about himself. Today wasnt one of those days, he was way to stressed about his history test to care about makeup.

"Momma G!" Purple quietly called, knocking on the already open door. Tak and Gaz usually left their door open because Purple would sometimes sneak into bed with them. Those where on nights when his nightmares got really bad. And when the doors where closed, Purple knew not to bother them. "You have work in an hour." He added, gently shaking Gaz to wake her up. Purple smiled when Tak groaned and wrapped herself around Gaz.

"I'll get her up in a few minutes, Pur." Tak hummed, her eyes still closed as she buried her face in Gaz's neck. Purple always thought they made the cutest couple, and he wished he could find someone like them.

"I'll make breakfast." Purple told Tak quietly, quickly leaving to work on that. So he cooked breakfast, pancakes for Gaz and eggs for Tak. He made himself some French toast, which was probably his favorite breakfast food.

Around 6:20 Gaz came down, fully dressed for work, and ate her food. She kissed Purples cheek, telling him to make sure Tak doesnt fall back asleep before he leaves, and left. Purple cleaned his dish and Gaz's, walking back upstairs to check and see if Tak was up and moving. She had a bad habit of going back to sleep when Gaz leaves.

7:30 rolled around and Purple had gotten all his stuff together. Normally he would pack his lunch but he kinda stopped after Red started bring him something instead. It was usually a surprise, but it always tended to be something he really likes.

"Pur!" Tak called from the front door, coffee in hand. Purple never understood how she could drink it black. It was way to bitter and nasty without creamer and a pinch of sugar. "Red's here to pick you up!" Purple quickly made his way downstairs, pulling on his favorite converses.

"Dont go back to bed momma T." Purple laughed, kissing her cheek and making his way to Red's car. It was a black Kia, simple but very nice. And the best part about it was the insides smell. Which was always roses and rainwater, something Purple suggested 2 years ago when Red got the car.

And thus, the rest of the day was pretty normal. Purple of course was studying his head off for the History exam he had after lunch. He practically knew everything that he needed to know, but that didnt stop him from worrying. Of course, Zim was the one to notice this at lunch time.

"Stop biting your lip!" Zim demanded, causing both Purple and Red to jump in their seats. Zim was very short compared to the two other boys. But he was the loudest. "No one will want to kiss you if you make them ugly." And he was very harsh too. Though Zim was a good, loyal friend to them. He means well, even if he comes off as an asshole sometimes.

"Sorry." Purple smiled in a guilty way, letting his bottom lip go. He honestly hadn't even noticed he was doing that. It was just a habit he did when he was stressed. So, to calm himself a bit, he tired to forget about it. Taking a bite of the salad Red had brought him.

That's when he remembered the note on his science book. Glancing around, he wondered who could be in love and with who. There where plenty of couples, but it would be weird to stare at them. He wondered if Red's eyes dilated when he was looking at his girlfriend, Jess.

So he tried to subtly watch the couple, who he actually didnt like being a couple. Jess was pretty new, only been here for two months, and Purple was already jealous of her. She stole all of Red's attention and tries her best to rub it in his face. Becuase at this point, it was kinda obvious Purple had a big crush on his best friend Red.

He watched as they talked and smiled, doing normal couple things. But as he watched, he noticed how Red would glance at him more than he thought he would. Their eyes met a couple times as well, both smiling a bit at each other. But Purple found himself not knowing whether to smile like an idiot or be surprised. Because every time Red looked at him, his small pupils grew bigger. Like they would after getting those eyedrops from the eye doctor.

"Red." Purple said, grabbing the boys attention away from the girl next to him. He watched as the boys pupils dilated once again, and the questioning look appear on his face. "Look at Jess then back at me real quick." He smiled, trying not to giggle at how confused Red looked. But even though Red was confused, he did as told, not knowing what this was about.

Purple felt butterflies erupt in his stomach at the possibility that Red may love him. But he also had to question if it was romantic love or friendship love. But he didnt care, because he was going to tell him. Via sticky note.

Quickly jotting down his little confession and why he asked for Red to do that, he got up. Folding the sticky note, Purple handed it to Red and quickly headed for History. The bell hadn't rung but he knew the teacher would let him in to study in peace.

By 7th period, Purple was regretting giving Red the sticky note. Because Red was his ride home and he may have ruined that. Because what if Red really doesnt like him like that and he confessed for nothing? That would completely embarrass him.

"Dont forget to read chapters 6 through 10." Mr. Dib called once the bell rang and his students jumped to leave. The only one not jumping to leave was Zim, who was probably going to harass the poor man again. Zim, in lack of better words, was a hoe. Of course, he wasnt, but sometimes Purple had to wonder. Because once that boy finds someone attractive, he tended to not leave them alone until he was satisfied.

"Zim staying back with Mr. Membrane?" Red questioned, falling into step beside Purple. Purple nodded, trying not to let his mind think of the sticky note.

"Yeah. I feel bad for Mr. Membrane. He never gets a break from Zim." Red laughed in agreement, knowing it was true. "I mean, sure he's pretty hot but Zim could get him fired." Purple groaned. He would hate to lose his science teacher, especially since Dib made the class fun. There was always a new story to tell or some cool group project they got to do.

"I'm sure that wont happen. The man should know not to succumb to a needy teen like Zim." It was Purple's turn to laugh then.

And things stayed normal for the ride home. Both just talking about the usual things and even some random stuff that pops to mind. It wasnt until they got close to Purple's home that the conversation turned to the sticky note confession.

"So my eyes really dilate when I look at you?" Red questioned, glancing towards Purple before looking back at the road. He didnt really believe that but he wasn't going to deny he liked Purple. Ever since Purple moved to their town 5 years ago, he's liked him. It's why he always does things to accommodate him. Like bring him lunch, stay up late when hes ranting about something, and even the air freshener in his car. They where all simple things, but they mean more than just simple friendly gestures.

Purple began to pick at his jacket sleeves, trying to think of what to say. He could say yes but that didnt feel like a good enough answer to him. Plus, maybe he was just imagining it all. "It could have just been a different lighting. But yeah." He said, nodding and staring at his lap. Purple could feel his cheeks heating up and his stomach do flips. He was nervous that Red would tell him he didnt feel the same as he did. Which, he wouldn't really blame him.

"I guess it would make sense then," Red began, turning down Purples' street. "Because I do love you." He admitted, glancing at Purple who quickly looked at him.

"You do?" Purple asked hopefully.

"Why else would I do the things I do for you?" Red laughed, pulling into Purples' driveway. He put it in park and looked at Purple.

Purple smiled, looking back at his lap. He always just thought Red was being nice.

"So, how about a date this Friday?" Red questioned, watching Purple smile like an idiot. Purple quickly nodded his head, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out.

"I cant wait." Purple said, closing Red's door and practically running to his house to tell Tak about this.

#human au #invader zim #purple #red #rapr #gay #lgbt

[faroutspaceman-blog]

My weekend so far. . 1/2 -1/4/19

My weekend starts off on Wednesday because quite frankly I can't remember what I did Monday or Tuesday. Those days are now non-existent. Forever lost in the trash bin of my deep ugly brain. Here I am laying on my bed, bored out of my fucking mind. I strum a lil guitar, sing a little, but put it back away because I realize I'm still as shit at guitar no less than I was 5 minutes before i picked it up. Now the only logical thing to do is sit and stare at my ceiling loudly moaning irritated grunts of boredom at my innocent ceiling. I get up and decide to make the most extravagant fucking sandwich. Well it was subpar, I usually put lettuce on it but we were out so I settled for a greenless burger. Whatever. I go to sit back on my bed and enjoy my sandwich, when I get a call. I fucking shoot up and tap that answer call like I just felt a rush of heroin in my blood. Thank the fucking lord. My brain almost had an aneurysm from how bored I was. My friend Vanessa and her Boyfriend (who happens to be my ex lover, love that..fuck) asks me if I wanna hang.

Me: "why yes I do want to chill, but if I'm still eating my sandwich by the time you pull up, your ass is waiting at the driveway."

Them: "we have Goldfish and Arnold Palmer's tea"

Me *while stuffing the whole sandwich in my mouth* : SAY NO MAS IM READY

I get on my new Blockbuster hoodie I bought the day before (yes from the world's only Blockbuster left in my Local Bend, Oregon.) And some jeans I found on the floor. I grabbed my keys and my bag and phone. Hiked up my driveway (which let me tell ya was a whole fucking mission in itself. ) Hall ass down my street I see Vanessa's car and they're driving like maniacs down my dirt road so I obviously take advantage of the situation and throw a peace sign into the air and lay in front of her car ready for my death. She stops and I hop in and am greeted with both my promised food items. I was very happy. We drive to a friend's house about a few miles from my house because we need to refill our pods with juice because ya know.. gotta get that nicotine rush. We had 8 full pods to last us the day. (They did not last for 3 people.)

After we fill our pods, we head down to Redmond, Oregon to the local 24 great Walmart to do what ever because we were bored, I decided to challenge my friends to a game of Hide n seek, and I was the only one who hid because they were being lame. I won it took them 40mins to find me. I was in the office supply Ile. After we went to Walmart, we went to Fred Meyers. stole their WiFi and lounged on their couches until it closed. Nothing special pretty boring.

Then Johnny, Vanessa's Boyfriend, gets the bright idea to swing by his house to see if his parents have packed up to leave to Idaho. If they are gone, Johnny plans to break into his own house ( I say break In because he just got kicked out.. again for refusing to be Mormon and for smoking and going against his parents) They are not gone yet so we decide to go to our chill spot which is way up on this hill where you can see all of Redmond. We talk, watch vines, etc.

Anyway I decide to go outside and look around, as I'm looking around Vanessa joins me. We are across from the car and we look around and I find this underwire leopard print bra a smashed TV and a lone boot. So I was already like "what the actual fuck happened here?"

I still forward towards the TV and there I see it, an empty grave, it looks fresh. I turn to Vanessa and she's already booked it back to the Car with me right behind her. We lock the doors and turn on Nextflix (we were watching Chappie).

Halfway through the movie, this man in a green Subaru pulls up next to our car. This is already fuckin weird because only few know about this road.he parks his car a lil ways from ours, cuts off his lights and just idles. At first were cautious but he just seemed to be doing the same we were, so our fear eventually subsided. We finished our movie, the car was still parked, and we pull out to check to see if Hunters parents had left. As we were pulling away we saw that the man had a blond haired woman in her car, but not to be rude she looked like a hooker. He was probably waiting for us to leave and we accidentally rang this man's bill up 200 an hour. Oops.

We checked Johnnys house. They're still there. Guess we're sleeping in the car tonight. We decide to try and find some food, we pull into Domino's and order a large pizza. As we're waiting for pizza, I joke able how I've cut my Cornea in the most retarted way to Vanessa's boyfriend. I move my hands to get the hair out of my face, and the string to my hoodie cuts my eye. At first I thought there was just something in my eye so I start rubbing it. It really fucking hurts. I close my eyes and black thinking it will go away but it never does. We drive back to the chill spot and on the way back, we see that green Subaru on the main Street leaving from our spot,but I saw no girl this time. Who knows we were gone a long fucking time. Must have dropped her off a few ways back. We get back in on the hill I manage my eye to keep the excess light out of it and my friends play Madea boo 2 on next. When the movie ends we decide to just go to sleep on the hill. I'm a little pissed at this point because I just wanted to chill and not murder my eyeball.

We put her back seat down and I'm on the far edge in the backseat wishing I never came because maybe if I stayed home this wouldn't of happened. Then there's a knock on the window. Not like an accidental hit it was clearly a knock. I dont say anything, it isn't acknowledged between any of us. I try and sleep and Johnny is freaking out

"dude are you fucking hearing this. It sounds like footsteps and dragging outside."

I don't hear shit so Ignore it. Then Vanessa starts hearing it. And I know she doesn't lie so I'm flipping my shit at this point. Vanessa jumps into front seat and She whips her car off the hill so fast we was cooking.

We end up driving back to Walmart to get me eyedrops in hope it'll make it better. As Vanessa is running in to get eyedrops, this girl stops us to ask if she can use her phone because her friends ditched her at Walmart ( what fuckin assholes. ) She waits away from our car for her friend, and she quickly comes back telling us that a man asked if she wanted a ride home and a smoke.we told her to wait with us because I was suspicious that it was the man in the green Subaru.

Vanessa's comes back with the eyedrops and we leave the parking lot without the girl. I strangely don't remember saying goodbye to her but we did apparently? We park in the neighborhood and get back into the backseat of the car. We play never have I ever until 4 am. We fall asleep and wake up at 6:30 am. I'm still asleep I. The back seat when I hear Johnny's happy that his parents are gone, he tries to look for ways back into his house but it's a no bueno. They drives to lowes while I pretend to be asleep on the backseat of the car. All I heard was lockpick and Saw and I already knew someshit was about to happen.

They park back at Johnny's house and I stay in the car. About 10 minute later Johnny comes back In the car and yells "we got it". Sweet so the lock picked worked? Nope they sawed a hole in the backdoor. He is for sure going back to jail after this. Vanessa guides me inside because I'm blind and can't see. We sit on the couch i call an eye doctor in bend and make an appointment for 4pm, for Johnny's uncle that happens to coincidentally be an eye doctor. He lives a block away from Johnny. Around 12 pm. We leave Johnny's house and go look for other things to do I. The area.

We pull into this Freshman's driveway,(Tom) and lets get this straight, Tom is fucking annoying and no one likes him because he is a fein for pods and nicotine, that and he thinks he's tough shit. Proud why he got excelled. We've had to help him with every fight he's been in. Trash.

We chill at his house for a while, and eventually his step mom walks in and kicks us out "get out of my house, I don't like kids having sex on my couch"

Honestly we just came over to steal his food. His step mom is such a joke. She has the biggest crush on our friend Jason. We could honestly break apart that whole marriage and cause such a scandle with that information. Anyway it's about 2pm now, my appointment is in two hours. We drive to the park and wait.

5 minutes later Tom skates to us on his long board, asks if he can hang and throws his board I the trunk.

Fuck. Just when I thought I was gonna get away from this kid. We drive by away from the park and go towards bend for my appointment. The whole car ride he blows his burnt vape in my fave and it smells like ass. I asked him to stop. He didn't. We stop at the grocery, I stay in the car, while Tom takes a smoke break out the car while Johnny and Vanessa shop. 3 minutes pass and he asks if I want a smoke.

"no that shits nasty"

"come-on. They don't even taste like stogies. They smell soo good*

He shoves the pack of cigs in my face and I was getting pissed. The only way to get rid of his prized cigs is to threaten his prized cigs.

"if you don't get that shit out of my face rn, I swear I'll rip them all up then spit on them"

"I'll beat ur ass if you do"

I just smirked at him as he took his cigs back and closed the door.

It's about 3:45 and we head to my appointment. Vanessa directs me to the office. And it's so bright in there, I instantly start crying which makes my eyes hurt even more. I honestly have never wanted to just instantly die in a moment than now. I just want to stop hurting. I'm finally able to open my eyes and the office by is actually very nice. I fill out the paperwork and the doctor sees me right away.

I try and play it smooth, talking about how broke I am, and how much I love Jonny so he'll give me a discount be because I don't have health Insurance.

Then he says "be in remember you, we played ping pong at Johnny's house during their Mormon party."

I had flashbacks to the Mormon party, and how we won the game, how I almost fucked Johnny in his car afterwards on the way back home. But it felt wrong because Vanessa was there. Then I remembered the hole in the back door.

"yeah that was really fun. I remember we won."

He didn't day anything he just put numbing drops In My eyes and this yellow dye. He looked at my eyes and said

"you have a 3 millimeter cut on your eye. You really did some damage"

"dammit"

He writes my prescription and im ngl I almost booked it out the door. But I waited instead. He me 120 for a 2 minute visit. Asshole. After I talked so nicely with him.

Me and Vanessa went back outside but the car was gone, so was Tom and Johnny.

We called them, they're a block or two away. We waited and waited, and entertained ourselves by kicking rocks to each other that made the best ear tingling noise you could imagine.

A couple minutes later the car pulled up and this girl other girl was in the car. Wtf man I just want to go home. As soon as we get into the car everyone is aguing about where we're going and Johnny wants to Trade My weed for pods.that he didn't even ask me if he could be trade. Which pissed me off A SHIT TON. johnny, Tom and this dumb dumb bitch kept arguing about pods and juuls. I realized how absolutely fucking retarted it is and how I never want to sound like that. I save all my shit to Johnny and just said " I quit" . We drove into Safeway gave them my perscription. Told us to come back in 20 minutes. Dropped dumb bitch off at her friends no house. Johnny traded my Weed for pods. And Tom proceeded to cuss out girl we traded with calling her names like fat ass, which I did not approve of. Tom commented on something and I swear I almost killed a kid in front of my friends. Tom was lucky that night. I would have strangled him if it wasn't for my eye.

We go back to Safeway and they try and charge me $47 for a $4 perscription. Fuck that. We transfer it to Walmart. We drive home, I'm the first to get dropped off. Thank fucking god.

My mom comes into my room, and hugs me and just listens to me sleepily jabber about anything.

Last time I'll ever sacrifice my subpar sandwich for goldfish and Arnold Palmer's.

Never again

#story #true story #wild nights #script #screenwriting #teens #fuck #smoking #rebellion #rebels #walmart #thread #kids #stray kids #nicotine #weed #cigarettes #weekend

[acoupleofstars]

Thu Nov/22/2018

I stayed late at work. Procrastinated an assignment that I thought would be easy. I was late in the morning, though, kinda needed to stay anyway. He texted me, said he wasn't feeling too well. I asked if he needed something, "your company" he answered. I immediately put away everything and rushed to the parking lot so I could get to him. The lady guard saw my rush and didn't retain me with the revision:

-You are in a hurry, right?

×Yes, I need to get to class.

-It's ok, honey, just show me your purse.

I showed her the inside of my purse and she let me go

-Do you do your brows?- she stopped me.

×I just pluck them

-Oh, well they look really nice.

Said thanks and continued on my mission. That brightened my day a little.

I usually drive fast, but today I was faster. I wanted to get to him as soon as possible; he needed me. Got to the teacher's parking lot and reverse parked next to his father's Yukon. He sat in my co-pilot seat.

+Hey

×How are you feeling?

+Do you have gum?- he asked

×I have Halls

+Anything to take off the puke breath

+Turn on the stereo.

I turned on the car and set his phone up.

×Babe, I don’t think the pizza made you sick, we've eaten it before with dessert and you didn't take it too bad.

+It was instant soup, I hadn't had one since the shooting.

×Yesterday I puked too.

+What is wrong with us? You puke because you want to, I puke because I have to.

×Aren't we fucked up?

+You aren't fucked up, you look really good.

×It's because I puke. You don't look bad either, you don't look like you got shot 7 times.

+I don’t look like I have two bullets in my body that will forever be there.

×They won't even take out the one in your stomach?

+No, probably not.

×What are we gonna do? Do we stay here or where do I go?

He took out his weed in his old pill jar and started filling the pipe I just gave to him.

+This pipe is so good, you kicked ass. It can fit so much.

×Yeah, like a little joint but without all the ashes.

+And it's so easy to clean. I had one of these, but it was metal, wood is so much better.

He offered me the first hit but I refused, said that he should be first. After a couple of hits, he offered again and I accepted. Two fucked up students getting high on the teacher's parking lot. Turned on one of the incenses I brought from CDMX to tone down the pot smell. Yesterday it worked well; that and the airfreshener he gave me left no hotbox smell.

+These days I haven't been able to take this song off my head. Listen to the bad vibes it gives.

×How fucked up on drugs do you have to be to create this?

+A lot of them. He was addicted real bad. His OD was accidental, they gave him what it was supposed to be Xanax, but instead they have him fentanyl and took it like Xanax, but it's too heavy, the body can't take those doses so he died. Listen to those bad vibes.

×I get it, I feel in danger just listening to it.

+ I even feel guilty.

The song was on repeat. I turned off the incenses and we continued with the sesh. After a while, a guard in his motorcycle approached, we scrouched down to avoid being seen and he left after a minute.

×I saw this article today, it was about a danish man who traveled to a greek island...

+Yes! I saw it too, but wasn't it an indian island? That the tribe that lived there killed him.

×What? No, I'm talking about another one. I didn't read that one.

+Well, yeah, this guy wanted to study this tribe, but they don't want anyone to mix in nor interact with them, so they killed him. It's a very small community, like 30 people. It was really fucked up and everyone knew that this tribe was dangerous.

×And how did they know that he was killed?

+Because of the man that took him there, he payed to take him illegaly on his boat, there is no legal way to get there. But, what the fuck, right? Like, how is it possible that this kind of primitive tribe still exists?

He showed me the article on his phone and I just saw it astonished.

×The redaction is a bit weird though, what source is it?

+Yeah, I know, the BBC one was better.

+What the hell, it is really fucked up. But I was actually talking about a danish man that traveled to this greek island to help people that were running away from their country. But because they were really big groups in one boat, it would sink and the waves were massive so a lot of them were dying. He traveled there and helped a lot of people to get to the coast, but because of this, the coast guard arrested him and charged him with being an accomplice of illegal immigrants. Can you believe it?× He put his hand over my leg and I caressed it for a bit. ×He was fucking helping people, and they arrested him. How fucked up is our world that we let bad people like rapists and killers get away with their shit but when it comes to helping, they get arrested?.

We stood there in silence thinking about these stories. Humans are really strange creatures.

×The new girl at work is such a loser. Her parents nag her because she reads too much, they tell her to go outside and have a life.

+That bad?

×Yeah, Workmate says that she hasn't even had her first kiss. And she's such a kiss ass. Like real bad, she always is talking to our bosses and making conversation.

+Ugh, I guess she really wants to stay there.

×Yeah, she does. I mean, she's nice, but not my kind of people

There was silence again. We kept listening to the song and he took another hit. We don't mind being silent, it's never uncomfortable.

×I'm hungry× I said.

+Me too.

×But we can't binge, your stomach isn't right.

+Is Subway considered binging?

×Yes, a little.

+What do we eat then? What do you want?

×I don’t know, but something good.

+Subway doesn't count as binging.

×Fine, we can go there, but fast because we need to come back to class.

I turned on the car and started driving. As we got to the exit I started wondering why was I driving, he always drives. We both didn't know, but it was too late to switch.

+I really appreciate the fact that you don't judge me for being a fuck up at school.

×Fuck school.

+Park in that space

I obeyed, put eyedrops and we got out of the car. The Subway was empty and we both got Chicken & Bacon Ranch sandwiches with our own specifics: he likes his with lots of pickles, I like mine with double cucumber and no tomato. We both got Ranch and Chipotle dressing, just in different order. I left him paying and rushed to the restroom.

×You pick me a cookie× I said before leaving.

I gave him the keys so he would drive us back and we ate our sandwiches in the car.

×It's weird that people want us to be together. They don't get that we like being friends.

+Yeah, like IRSgal, she wants to force us to be something. It doesn't come to them that we aren't interested in being a couple.

×I know, it's such a strange thing to them how we are just friends.

We finished our sandwiches and were getting closer to school.

+I bought you two cookies because I didn't know which one you would want. I got double chocolate and chocolate chips.

×Double chocolate is fine.

I chose that one because I know he loves chocolate chip. He had his before the sandwich so I gave him the other one left.

+Can you be late to your class?

×Yes, no one takes that class seriously.

+Ok, I'll stop near my building and you go park your car, move quick.

×How stupid is it if you come to this side of the parking lot thinking you will find a spot?

He got out of the car and rushed to his class. At that time, the parking lot is full, it is nearly impossible to get a spot there because a lot of people are at school at that hour, is rare for someone to finish their classes in that time. However, I spotted a girl who was just leaving so I could get her spot. That was lucky.

I went to class and when I entered the room, spotted a fucking guy on MY seat. Everyone knows it's mine, I'm always there and alone. They know I don’t want to seat with someone, either my feet or backpack are in the chair next to me so no one can be by myself. I had to settle all the way in the front. Took out my phone and honestly didn't pay attention to anything the teacher was saying. It always makes me feel bad that no one takes his class or him seriously, but it's just that is really damn boring and uninteresting: Banking Law.

I was texting Starboy about Kylie Cosmetics's Black Friday sale and we were discussing if we should invest and resale at its original price. We concluded that the earnings would be too low and that it wasn't worth it. He said it needs to double.

-So guys, I guess this is it of the class. I just wanted to let you know that you were such a good group, that whenever I asked something you were honest enough to say "I don’t know and I don't care" and I appreciate the honesty. Thank you for this semester.

He's such a cute teacher, too pure so we take advantage of him. We don't deserve him. He checked our assistance and dismissed us. A couple of classmates said goodbye and hugged or shook his hand, but I just flew out of there, as always. Normally, he dismissed us 15 minutes earlier, but this time I only got left 5 minutes to get to my other class.

I arrived and, again, someone sat on my seat, however it's a large room so I don’t mind the next row. The teacher gave us our last exam, in which I got a 10/10. He gave us our current grade and said if we wanted to take the last exam to get our grade up, we could, but I just want the semester to be over, so I took my 8.2 and finished with that class. Two more to go.

Got out of the building and saw Frenchmate, gave him a pat on the chest but kept walking.

-Who are you?- he asked. His blindness never lets him see people, he needs glasses real bad, but prefers to spend the money on alcohol. I looked back and just gave him a peace sign.

-Stargirl!

I kept walking and didn't look back again. He followed me a little but didn't reach. I am still offended by the shit he pulled out. I'm not a whore, if he's with someone I will respect her. Fidelity is something I take very seriously.

I got into my car and as I was getting home, realized I didn't want to get there yet so I missed the turn and kept driving. I queued up some songs and just drove around for about 45 minutes. Thinking about Starboy, our future, how are we planning to get money if we are sick of working.

There was a bunch of people camping outside the american consulate and one of the men scared me so I braked really harshly, but then kept driving. I passed there for a second time and saw an ambulance and a traffic cop; probably someone ran over one of the people.

The queue was on its last song so I took my way home.

#writing #story

[lemonloveheart]

Abandoned Pt. 2

Inspired by Abandoned by Mcclangst

This is a continuation of Artemis’ work, so you might wanna read that first.

Warnings: Implied Rape, Referenced Physical Abuse, Team is bad to Lance trope, implied eating disorder (kind of)

Lance doesn’t need them anyways. Sure, that’s what he said earlier, but an hour later, there he was crying to his bedsheets, mumbling about how he was just a useless seventh wheel and not even his “best friend” wanted him around. He pushed himself up off the bed and wiped at his face, feeling icky and drained from all the crying as he blew his nose. He stared at the ground, wondering what he’d do now. He knew he didn’t have any other friends. He’d just have to make some then. He took a shower, cleaned himself up, and faked a brilliant smile at his mirror. With the help of some eyedrops, it didn’t even look like he’d been crying. He pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and ignored his still buzzing phone. He perused his clothes for a shirt before finding a hoodie of Hunk’s.

He swallowed hard as he glared at it. He threw it to the side and started pulling out articles of his friends’ clothing. Pidge’s hat, a scarf of Allura’s, Shiro’s baseball jersey, Keith’s beanie. He huffed quietly and set all the clothes down, pushing them aside before throwing a blanket over them. He picked up his phone and sighed quietly, looking at all the missed calls and unread texts. In their group chat, he simply said “Stop texting me. Don’t call me. I’m only talking to my friends from now on.” He sent before leaving the chat and blocking every single one of their numbers. He took a deep breath, feeling a little better, before finishing getting dressed. He picked up his phone again and slid it into his pocket, humming to himself as he headed out to a club, determined to prove he was better off without them.

At the club, Lance felt like an ugly duckling, all alone and looking mopey, so he did something he’s good at. He faked it. He strutted inside, with a smirk on his face as he headed to the bar and ordered something strong. He sipped at his drink as he watched the dance floor pulse and flash to the beat of the songs as the mass of bodies bobbed and jumped. He considered finding someone to dance with when the bartender gave him another drink. “That guy down there ordered it for you.” He jerked his thumb at a pale main with stark white hair, a bit like Allura’s. Lance wrinkled his nose at the thought of her but quickly formed a smile and beckoned the man over with the crook of his finger.

He watched idly as the man approached him, a smile on his face. “You seem a bit too beautiful to be in a club all by yourself.” He hummed, winking slightly. Lance gave a lazy smile, “I wish I wasn’t alone tonight. I got a rude awakening that my “friends” don’t really care about me.”

“Well that fucking sucks. I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t care about you.” “Let’s see, I’m annoying, talk too much, too hyper, bi, kind of gross, I take things too lightly, and I am just usele-” He was stopped by the man putting a finger to his lips, “Nuh uh, not gonna have that kind of talk. I’ll show you yourself one day. I’m Lotor, by the way. Lotor Prince.” Lance cocked a smile, “Lance McClain; nice to meet you, Lotor.” Lotor smiled, ordering a drink and sipping it.

Lance studied him, taking in his designer clothes  and expensive looking watch. “How old are you Lotor?” Lotor swallowed and laughed slightly, “I’m 25, promise. People always think I’m older because of the white hair, but it’s genetic.” He nodded. Lance smiled, leaning over to play with a portion, “Well, I like it. I’m 23, by the way.” Lotor smiled at this and moved to drape an arm around Lance’s shoulders, “Could I take you out for dinner, Mr. McClain?” He asked. “That’d be delightful.” He smiled brightly. He started to take out his wallet and pay for his drinks, but Lotor shook his head, “Oh, I already paid for our drinks. Oops.” Lance laughed. “You’re not sorry.” Lotor shrugged. “More or less.” He stood and offered Lance a hand to lead him out. Lance hesitated slightly before taking his hand and holding it tightly.

Lance was having a good time. Judging by how his afternoon had started, he figured he’d be sobbing to the bartender by now, but instead, he was sitting across from a handsome guy who was genuinely sweet and funny. They were sitting in an IHOP in the back corner where they told stories about their family and having a pretty good time. Lance gave him a look, smiling slyly. “This isn’t all some ploy to get in my pants, right?”

“Oh, no, no, Lance. I actually want to get know you before that because you seem like such a nice guy.” Lance blushed slightly at the statement. “Well thank you Lotor. And I’m paying here, by the way.” “Not if I beat you to it.” He laughed, leaning his head on his palm after tying his long white hair up. Lance laughed, “You’re on, pretty boy.” “I believe you’re the pretty one here.”

“I had a good time tonight.” Lance smiled brightly as Lotor walked him along the streets with an arm draped carefully around Lance’s shoulders. “Me too.” They walked in silence for a bit before Lance stopped, “Well, this is me.” He jerked his thumb up at the apartment building he lived in. A bit dingy and shabby, sure, but it was home. Lotor smiled, “I like it.” He decided before gently patting Lance’s back, “Call me?” Lance asked, offering a hand to put his number in his phone. “Definitely.” The phone was handed over, and Lance put his number in carefully. When he finished, he took a selfie for his contact photo. “There, perfect.”

“Perfect.” Lotor agreed, “I’ll see you again?” He asked hopefully and Lance nodded, kissing his cheek gently as he pressed his phone back into his hand before heading to the stairwell and up to his apartment.

Lance went to his room feeling light and happy which was a big contrast from that afternoon when he felt heavy and depressed. His friends didn’t need him. But Lotor… He wanted him. And that made Lance’s heart soar. He finally checked his phone after telling the group to fuck off, but he still had a huge amount of texts and missed calls, all from blocked numbers. He sighed to himself, realizing that maybe he was being overdramatic. But then he remembered how they’d acted, like it was his fault that they didn’t want to invite him. He rolled over, plugged in his phone and got ready for bed.

The next day, the only message he got from an unblocked number was Lotor, asking if he wanted him to bring him any food. He cooed to himself at his sweetness before telling him that he liked Chinese and would be happy to pay half of the meal. Lotor refused and arrived half an hour later with a bag of Chinese food and a bouquet of flowers for Lance. Lance took it graciously, grinning brightly at Lotor as he let him in. “I cleaned up, you better realize how important you are,” he teased as he put the flowers in a vase. “Aw, thank you, dear.” Lotor grinned, taking out the food and setting it on the rickety table in the kitchen. “This table is wobbly. Do you want a new one?” He asked curiously. Lance shrugged. “I’ll get a new one when I have the money for it.” That was his mentality on a lot of things, but it’d worked for this long. “I’ll buy one for you.” His companion offered, but Lance immediately stuck the idea down. But long after Lotor had left after a few hours of chatting, joking, and a bit of dancing, Lance opened his door to an IKEA box sitting on his welcome mat.

This pattern continued for the next four days. Lance got back from work, rested for a bit, then received an invitation of some sort from Lotor. Once over, Lotor would note something Lance needed, be turned down, leave, then the aforementioned item would be on Lance’s doorstep. First the table, then a package of light bulbs, a pair of sneakers, some art supplies, and finally a new comforter for his bed. While Lance appreciated the gifts, he felt guilty about Lotor giving him so much. He tried to ask him to stop, but Lotor insisted that he enjoyed giving things to Lance, that he felt he deserved it. And today, Lotor noticed that Lance’s small couch sagged when the two sat on it together, watching a movie. “Oh no, mister, you are not buying me a new couch. I like this one, and if you buy me a new one, I won’t let you over anymore because you always get me things afterwards.” Lance shook his head adamantly. “But Lance, I w-” They were interrupted by the doorbell ringing and the sound of many muffled voices.

Lance heaved himself up, “Coming!” He called, stretching out slightly. “You stay here,” He told Lotor. “And don’t you dare order that couch.” Lotor laughed and placed a quick kiss on Lance’s cheek before nodding and returning to sit. Lance felt emboldened by this small kiss and went to the door, opening it to see his… friends. He felt the smile from Lotor droop off of his face and be quickly replaced with a scowl. “What do you want?” He asked and even he was surprised by the coldness in his voice. “We wanted to say that we’re sorry…” Even bold and brave Allura looked small and ashamed at the tone in Lance’s voice. “Okay.”

“Are we forgiven?”

“No.”

“You’re being overdramatic!” Keith blurted, shattering the stunning silence that followed. “Oh I’m being overdramatic?” Lance asked lazily, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt when he saw Pidge pale at the expression on his face. “I think I’m being plenty dramatic enough for someone who was ignored by his friends for months during a friendship. I think I’m being plenty dramatic enough for someone who wasn’t even consulted or even asked if he wanted to come along. I think I’m being not dramatic enough for someone who you probably never wanted to be around in the first place. For someone who felt like an outsider because nobody. Wanted. Him. There.” He hadn’t realised it, but his voice had started quivering with anger as he stared Keith down.

For once, Shiro’s temperamental boyfriend stood down, his hands shaking. “Anyone else wanna tell me that I’m selfish? Too annoying to go anywhere with? Too loud and flirtatious and unable to stop talking?” He continued on, glaring each of his former friends in the face until he got to Hunk. He felt his heart wrench slightly at his best friend, the guy he’d loved for who knows how long, but he told his heart to shut up. “And you. I thought you were my best friend. My one real friend after everyone abandoned me. But you probably didn’t want me around from the beginning.”

Suddenly, their attention was caught by Lotor calling Lance’s name, saying something about the toaster. Lance’s face softened, and he turned to look over his shoulder with an easy smile that wouldn’t be aimed at the group for a long time. Everyone turned to look at Hunk, who looked uncharacteristically angry. Everyone knew that he had a crush on Lance, exposed during all of their worrying on the cruise. And Lance had found someone else.

Hunk was crushed. His best friend, the only person who truly cared enough about to die for, hated his guts. And it was all his fault. Throw the unrequited crush in there, and Hunk felt like a volcano, all the anger that stirred below his surface about to blow. And it nearly did when he saw a handsome man come behind Lance and loop an arm around his waist. He compared the man and himself, unable to hear anything but his thoughts and blood rushing in his ears. Skinny, rich, toned, confident, and next to Lance. All things that Hunk was not. And it pissed him off.

Lance smiled at the comforting feel of Lotor’s arms around him, as Lotor nodded to the others, “So who are your friends?” Lance glanced at them before smiling up at Lotor, “Don’t worry, they’re not my friends.” He stepped back to start closing the door, when a large dark hand on the door stopped him. Hunk looked irate as he stared Lance and Lotor down, “You know we care about you. You know I care about you. We’re sorry for messing up, please forgive us. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His voice was soft despite the fury in his eyes. Those eyes flicked down to Lotor’s arm tightening around Lance’s waist. He could hear his heart fracturing and wondered if Lance heard it too, by the way he glanced down at Lotor’s arm. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.” He mumbled before pulling away from Lotor and heading down the hall. “I think you should leave.” Lotor frowned at the group, pushing Hunk back slightly so he could close the door. Hunk stumbled back as the door shut, and he was left staring at the door that led to someone he’d lost.

Lotor frowned at Lance after making sure the group of his former friends left. “That big guy looked like he was going to hurt you, are you okay, Lance?” He asked worriedly, hugging him to his chest. “No, I’m not, and Hunk would never hurt me. He’s my best friend.”

“They don’t really seem like your friends after what you’ve told me.” Lotor mumbled, rubbing his back lightly. “Maybe not the others. But Hunk, he’s my best friend. He’s helped me through a lot.” Lance sighed, leaning into his kind of boyfriend. In return, he got a shrug, “I just want to keep you safe.”

Three months later, Lance didn’t know what safe was. He was told that it was with Lotor, who had made him quit his job, had changed his phone number, and moved him into the luxury apartment his boyfriend lived in. He hadn’t seen his friends since that day, but he was missing them sorely. He missed them more when Lotor came home from work, screaming and ranting as he shoved Lance up against any surface and took out his anger. Lance had stopped crying during what he liked to call Lotor’s therapy sessions, but only because when he cried, Lotor left deep gouges with his nails and teeth. He didn’t think that was safe.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it had started. Probably after he’d moved in with him. Lotor got mad at him for doing things that he’d loved before and honestly, Lance was scared. And it’s not like he could contact his old friends because they probably didn’t care about him anymore. He wasn’t really allowed to leave the apartment, always scolded by the maids, and he didn’t really eat much after Lotor made an offhand comment about him becoming a little thicker. He felt hollow. He thought Lotor had cared about him, but apparently, nobody could care about him.

Hunk was worried out of his mind. Lance was gone without trace. He’d changed his phone number, quit his job, and the last time Hunk had tried to go and apologize, he came face to face with a white girl who was drying her long blue hair with a blowdryer. Seeing as he’s a huge, darker skinned guy, she looked suspicious, but he apologized and explained the situation. She wished him well before seeming to realize something. “Oh, my name is Plaxum. And I think your friend could be in trouble.”

After a brief explanation about what the name Lotor Prince meant in clubs on the other side of town, Hunk was ready to storm Mr. Prince’s castle and rescue Lance himself, but she stopped him. “All you need to do is call the police and report domestic abuse. He lives near the top floors of Galra Luxury Apartments. Good luck, Hunk.” She smiled and ushered him out with a piece of paper with an address on it. Like hell he was going to let someone else save Lance while he sat back and watched.

Lance was enjoying something. A good start. He and Lotor were lounging on the couch while watching a movie when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Lotor growled lightly and yanked Lance’s head from his shoulder and stormed over to the door, taking a deep breath before answering the door. Lance stood, rubbing his head lightly as he came over to see who it was. Police. Lotor gave him a hard glare over his shoulder, but Lance stood still, knowing that they could see the bruises around his neck from when Lotor had choked him earlier. Then Hunk appeared behind the police officers. That’s what made him burst into tears. The horrified look on his best friend’s face is what made him break down, sinking to his knees as the police officers grabbed Lotor and manhandled him into handcuffs.

He sobbed quietly into his palm as he watched Lotor curse and scream his name, blaming all of this on him. One officer called for an ambulance so Lance could be properly checked on. He stared at the ground, feeling empty and broken once he realized that nobody cared about him now. Nobody wanted him anymore. Sure, Lotor screamed at him and gave him bruises and… didn’t take no for an answer, but at least he was there. Now he’s gone. Now Lance is alone.

Then a pair of soft, warm, familiar arms wrapped around him, and Hunk was pulling Lance into his lap and holding him tight, gently shushing his sobs. Lance clung tightly, trying to sound coherent through his tears as he tried to apologize for being overdramatic and ungrateful. Hunk heaved a big sigh and gripped the sides of his face firmly, but gently and said, “It’s not your fault, Lance.” Lance sniffled, staring up at him with big, watery eyes, “But the only reason I ended up with him was because I was too annoying to be invited on the cruise.” He whispered. Hunk shook his head firmly, “No, that was all our fault. We’re so sorry, Lance. We should’ve been better to you. I should’ve been better to you.”

“But…” He was halted by a finger on his lips. “Nope,” Hunk should his head, “Don’t blame yourself for that creep abusing you. I’m glad I found you before something really bad to you.” Lance glanced away at that, remembering flashes of Lotor leaning over him, snarling and scratching and sweating. He took a shaky breath and Hunk’s eyes widened. “What did he do to you?” He whispered forcefully. Lance shuddered and shook his head, glancing up to see Hunk’s face twisted with rage. “How dare he!” Hunk shouted, gently placing Lance down and running to go tell the officers. Lance bit his lip lightly, hoping that Lotor got what he deserved.

One trial and a few months later, Lance was supposed to be having a party with all his old friends to celebrate Lotor getting incarcerated. Instead, he was hiding in the bathroom, scared of facing them after he shoved them away. Granted, they deserved it, but now he was consumed with guilt. “Lance? You in there?” Hunk called, biting his lip as he leaned against the door. He shooed the group away as they crept closer to attempt to listen. Pidge growled, “He’s our friend too.”

“Judging by our last conversation, Lance doesn’t seem to think so.” Keith mumbled, pulling the gremlin away.

“Yeah, Hunk?”

“You okay in there?”

“No.”

“Can I come in?” The answer was the door opening for him to show a rumpled looking Lance. “Lance? May I hug you?” Hunk was careful about suddenly hugging Lance after Lance had a panic attack after finally calming down from a panic attack when Hunk had hugged him upon walking in. “Yes, please.” He whispered. He was enveloped in a warm embrace that made a weak smile grace his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about them being mad at me. I pushed them away so rudely. Sure, they deserved it. But I feel bad for telling them off like that.” He whispered into Hunk’s chest. “I promise they’re not mad. They’re worried about you and have wanted to see you for so long.” Hunk assured him, gently stroking his hair. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well, let’s do this.”

#langst #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #keith kogane #keith (voltron) #hunk (voltron) #vld lance #takashi shirogane #shiro #sheith #hance #lancelot #lotor x lance #hunk x lance #shiro x keith #abusive lotor

[cosmosogler]

i was mistaken! i did not go to the office today because my sister had jury duty and was not available to take me to the office. so i got started on cleaning my room. i unpacked two boxes and put away most of my laundry. and put away a bunch of stuff from my bathroom in the apartment. my soap dispenser’s lid came off in the plastic bag so i had to rinse off everything else. 

i did not get around to looking at the papers, but that’s ok. i did twice as much cleaning as i had planned to make up for it. oh, and i found a new marina and the diamonds song i like. the title is “blue”. i have listened to it a few times, but i wasn’t at the computer too much today so i haven’t memorized it yet.

i went to play bunko with my gramma and her friends tonight. also my mom and my roommate’s mom were there. i didn’t have to interact with mother TOO much. i spent more time with dawn and gramma. i was getting scores of below 20 for the first 11 rounds, and then in the last round i got preposterously lucky and ended up winning twelve dollars (everyone puts in five). 

mother became aware of my dry eye problem, but i didn’t really mention that it’s been happening for seven or eight years. in the last year it’s happened once or twice a DAY. even when i put in eyedrops. it hurts so much and blinds me for a few minutes. wearing sunglasses seems to help... and making sure i get my eyes wet before i try to drive. it’s happened three times on the road, once with asher (and i was wearing sunglasses if i remember correctly), and i was so stressed. 

i found myself feeling super bitter on the way home from bunko. just... thinking about relationships. not even just romantic ones. it’s easier to be angry at myself than to be angry at other people though. i just, i wish i had known how little i mattered to jim. the last two times i’ve dated i haven’t seemed to matter to my partners. if i wasn’t such a prude maybe craig wouldn’t have... taken matters into his own hands.

man, that’s horrible. look at that. i can’t believe that is a thought i was having. i wish i didn’t get crushes on guys. 

while we were driving asher said things must be simpler without sexual feelings involved in my life. i know where he was coming from, and in a way that’s true, but it’s kind of made things a lot more difficult too. every partner i’ve had has like, tried to sneak in sexual stuff, or just dumped me without warning because i wouldn’t make any moves. that’s happened twice! that’s more than once!!!

i feel like i’m never going to find someone. i think of the kind of relationship i want as like a “partner in crime” more than a “girlfriend.” and... i know other people do look for that kind of relationship. but i am too shy to talk to them. or i don’t develop those sorts of feelings for that person. and i am afraid that even if i did find an ideal relationship i would be too suspicious that they were withholding those, i guess, more sexual feelings and will leave me without saying anything. or just jump on top of me while i’m trying to sleep! 

like, even if the other person was earnest, the relationship wouldn’t work because i’m too paranoid. i’m the problem. i’m broken.

hmm. i should have gone to bed earlier if i wanted to get up at 9 so my sister could take me to the office tomorrow. but i wanted to shower anyway so that would have held her up a while. taking obnoxiously long showers is the best part of my day. and i’ve been trying to shave my legs so my mom doesn’t call me disgusting. it takes a few tries. i found a new razor in the box i unpacked so maybe that’ll help. the other one was kind of rusty and dull.

don’t worry. i’m not going to do anything with the razor besides shave. i’ve accidentally cut myself before and it doesn’t just hurt, it itches for days. i want to be injured if i’m going to do that, not annoyed. if i wanted to be annoyed there are dozens of better ways to do that to myself.

welp, since there’s no way i could get ready in time to leave with my sister, i may as well keep writing until i feel like i talked about everything i wanted to.

are you still reading? hi. i’m sorry. i do read back over these sometimes so i’m not just tormenting you. i’m also stalling for myself!

i took my anti nausea medication at the right time both times i ate today and i still got pretty sick. i don’t think it’s helping. i should call my doctor tomorrow and set up an appointment for next week. i will try to remember.

last night i had a dream that started in the woods, went through a hedge maze but the hedge was made of rope and planks, and there was a dark neighborhood involved, and it ended up in a mall sort of building my brain told me was hong kong but there was just no way that could possibly be right. also there were elves? and orcs, i think?? but i left them behind in the maze. the first half was ok, to my sense of smell and sight and hearing and stuff, but the mall was just so overwhelmingly crowded. i hated it. i couldn’t figure out how to leave or where i might find a quiet corner to figure out what to do. there were seas of people waiting in endless lines to get nothing. everything was gilded and glittering and blinding. lots of red and white and gold and glass. smelled like a food court but there was no way to actually get food. it was so loud it rattled my head. i somehow didn’t touch anything the whole time though.

why are my dreams so cryptic? maybe if i remembered everything instead of just most of it they would make more sense when i tried to figure out what they meant. my worst fear is that they don’t mean anything, and they don’t mean anything on purpose. there is a time and place for dada. it is not good all the time.

sometimes i wonder why i have them and then i get kind of annoyed with myself. but i think i understand, at least a little bit. growing up with mom, when i was little, i used to wish so bad that i could be part of the books i read. i wanted to have a magical adventure and win people over with my hard work and determination and learn that i was maybe worth it. i called out for help from god every night. but nobody came. i guess consciously i had to accept that in reality nobody cares and mom is just going to be like this forever. great grandma was 102 when she died and she never stopped being like that. 

i mean, the terrifying nightmares started when i was 3 or 4. i remember the type of dreams i used to have at that age, and i remember very specific images and scenarios. i still revisit them sometimes and there’s always like an angry buzz in my head for the whole time i’m there. i got beat up during the day and tormented by devil visions at night. i started wanting to die by the time i was 6.

i started noticing a little more substance in my nightmares around, i don’t know, middle school. i guess because i spent more time sleeping, or at least, trying to sleep. i was too scared to try to get out of bed after that time dad pinned me against the wall by my neck for wandering around and startling my sister. i would go to sleep thinking about the books i was reading. 

maybe i just got used to the “death and decay” aesthetic. it still bothers me, but not as much as it used to. i got used to dying horribly or just suffering very strange and very painful injuries. like having a nail driven in under my kneecap. that was cool! maybe when i realized i would never have the kind of adventures i wanted in real life i started dreaming about them instead. but my most interesting dreams are always about other people that i meet. i am disappointed but also mostly glad they never really existed. sometimes they die over the course of the dream and i am just kind of witnessing their last few moments. sometimes i talk to them a while and then they leave and i continue with my business. sometimes i talk to them and wake up before i can ask a question that was on my mind. they always seem kind of... resigned, though. maybe some of them know that i won’t think they were real after i wake up. 

i have talked to death a few times... yeah, that seems right. it is always wearing a different person’s face, but i figure out who it was afterward. i don’t remember what we talk about. i’m never afraid of it. more like reverent. i’m kind of surprised it keeps me company while i wander around a dream. or maybe i keep it company. 

whenever i try to talk about my dreams with other people i am aware of the fact that i sound totally insane. i don’t like to talk about the weird powers i always seem to have. i don’t like to acknowledge things that might make me sound better, somehow, than i really am. but when i’m in the process of dreaming i don’t really think about it like that. i just kind of do the things i know how to do when i remember to do them. like, i learned the rules, and i sometimes take advantage of them to survive or try something new or leave an area i don’t like or ask a friend i previously made to come and help me. 

it’s kind of nice to know there’s some part of me that doesn’t really care what other people think, or what i think about myself. it just does what it does and doesn’t worry about it. it gives me hope that i won’t always have to hold myself back. but it also makes me fear that i am holding myself back, and if i just tried harder i could do anything. because that part of me is not only determined, but also stupid and doesn’t understand what limits are and gets angry when it encounters them.

i can never tell if it gets angry because i spent the first ten years of my life physically disabled and told that if i just tried harder i wouldn’t be so weak, or because the idea of a limit to human (my) intellect is scary. maybe both. 

like, one day i will be physically and cosmically unable to understand anything more. that thought makes me feel stupid, insignificant, and also gives me the horrible suspicion that i think too much of myself.

i never want to be egotistical. i never want to think that i’m better in any regard than anyone else. but just because i don’t want something to happen doesn’t mean it won’t happen and that drives me nuts. like, sure, i can’t control the world around me, but at the very least i could control myself. but i don’t know anything about myself! not for sure. i always latch on to what other people say about me because maybe they are more observant from their perspective outside the hurricane of constant madness in my head. 

there are so many contradictions that i find in myself that i can’t figure out what i’m really about, you know? like, i want a partner, but i know a relationship with me would never work for more than a few months. i want to understand and think about things, but i have so little energy that i can’t even try to do that half the time. i want to talk to people and make friends but every time i talk about myself i beat myself up and get so angry afterward because i also like to be dramatic and i must have been stealing attention from them, and not only stealing the attention, but also LYING, which means i totally wasted the attention! 

i am lying because i don’t know anything, and to hide the fact that i don’t know anything, because mom thinks i am stupid and i can’t let anyone else think that, i pretend to know things. i pretend that i remember an event perfectly and tell the story like i remember it, even when i clearly (to myself) have holes in the memory that could mean my whole point of view is wrong.

like, maybe craig didn’t really hump me when he climbed on top of me. maybe he didn’t even climb on top of me. maybe he was just sort of half on me and fell asleep and then got a semi boner. but maybe even that didn’t happen. maybe there weren’t other people in the room totally ignoring my discomfort. 

maybe mom didn’t actually hit me so much. maybe spanking is different from beating and that makes my complaints invalid. i mean, plenty of other people got disciplined and they were fine. and discipline is a part of learning right from wrong. not... physical discipline, but can i really know that i wouldn’t still be angry even if mom had just put me in time out instead of slapping me around and kicking me? like, literally punting me a few feet through the air.

how am i supposed to know anything about myself when half the things i tell myself could be made up?

man, gaslighting sucks. i don’t want to do that to people... i’m afraid that i already have though. everything i say is interpreting events a little different than they actually happened. maybe. i don’t know.

i think that’s what i wanted to talk about when i started writing. i’ve been having that feeling for years but like it’s hard to figure out how to talk about it. i didn’t have words. i gotta figure out how to get to this stuff by talking about something else first and sort of working my way to it. if you read this far, thanks for taking the time to listen to me. even if you never mention it or anything, the thought that this may have reached someone else and they might understand is... comforting. that’s why i write this stuff on tumblr instead of in, like, a word document. if i keep it in a private diary, then no one will see it, and no one will see how i feel and maybe also feel that way, and they won’t know that someone else understands how they feel. you know?

#i mention self harm #so be careful #but like in the context of not doing it #so please dont worry about me right now #also tw for assault

[ecotone99]

[HM] Another Man’s Jeans

‘Fuckin’ bastard!’ screamed Anto. Today just wasn’t his day, and the last 730 hadn’t been either.

‘Wassa matter with ye?’ hollered Anto’s Da, Fergal, ‘Quit that fuckin’ bellowin’ or I’ll come up there an’ give ye somethin’ te yell about!’

‘Fuckin’ aul bastard, fuckin’ sittin’ there in his fuckin’ chair thinkin’ he’s got it all fuckin’ figured out, the big fat ballix.’

Anto’d been filling in his CV, and was just done tweaking his meagre GCSE results into more promising grades when the laptop crashed, along with a whole morning’s worth of effort.

Ever since his arrest for drunk driving things had gone steadily from bad to worse. He’d been nicked one night picking his girlfriend up from the local bar where she was having a girl’s night out. It’d been him and Big Crick, and he’d only sat down to three beer when the phone had gone. Caoimhe’d fallen out with her mates, they’d gotten into it over Niamh’s new boyfriend and Caoimhe had called him a drug dealer, which the fucker was, but that’d not stopped Niamh from trying to empty a bottle of Gallo’s white all over her head.

Anto’d long harboured the suspicion it was those two having at it what alerted the PSNI as they’d pulled him over barely a mile down the road.

That’d led to rows, Caoimhe had accused him of putting her in danger, and Anto had argued that she was responsible, as she was meant to get a taxi, but after the fight insisted he come instead.

‘Sure wasn’t ‘at not me night off? Can’t a man sit down an’ have a wee swall wey his mate and be left in peace?!’

He’d lost that row, and worse rows followed after he lost his job, being unable to drive to work. He got banned for a year and ordered to go to a therapist to discuss his relationship with alcohol, plus do 200 hours community service.

The community service was rough, he’d be sent over to East Belfast to scrub the racist graffiti off the walls of a house of a black family which had been targeted by the local paramilitaries.

Anto avoided the East at all costs. Apart from seeing his mate Marty in Short Strand the place was a no go for a fella called ‘Anthony Patrick Joseph O’Hara’.

He’d taken to drinking more, especially before the community work where he brought a half bottle of vodka and kept it in his back pocket. Sure, he reckoned, if yer gonna get death threats for having to scrub off other racist death threats, you may as well do it absolutely rotten.

The therapy appointments were worse yet. He’d have to sit there and get grilled on his drinking, which he knew had increased, but had only done so in response to the situation in which he now found himself.

‘Have ye ever told someone yer not an alky?’ He’d screamed at Caoimhe one night after they’d argued over his loss of income, ‘Well, the more ye fuckin’ try te tell ‘em yer not one, the more ye fuckin’ sound like one!’

Soon after they lost the flat, Anto’d been unable to pay his half of the rent, and the social wouldn’t cover it. Caoimhe’d moved back in with her Ma and they’d stopped speaking. They broke up soon after. Anto found he couldn’t look at her anymore, and the drink was turning him nastier than a dose of watery shite.

He was forced to move back into his old room with his Ma, Da, brother and two sisters. There was no room in the house, and the room he shared with his 19 year old brother Michael was barely fit for a child, let alone two grown men.

His drinking continued unabated, and the drugs too. He’d not touched them for years, but there was no reason now not to bang in a load of coke and gobble up a few tabs. Plus, Feeney Rubberlips from down the street had some good gear on offer, and he’d sort ye out on tick too.

Anto had existed in this state for last year and a half, he’d continued trying to seek work, but each rejection justified another trip to the offie, and put him in the mind for a fat line.

However, on the jobsite he’d noticed a job he was definitely qualified for, it was even better than the one he’d lost. More pay, more benefits and what’s more, it was in walking distance from his house. The sort of thing that could get him back on his feet, maybe get Caoimhe back, and definitely lead him to getting out his Ma’s house and away from getting his head melted to fuck every single night.

‘Awh fuck Da, am on applyin’ for this here job an’ the laptop’s shat itself. Fucker wiped me applications n’all.’

‘Well why the good fuck are ye fuckin’ yelpin’ ta me ‘bout it, ye born in a barn?Jesus Christ wee lad shut yer fuckin’ hole! An’ here, yer Ma wants ye down the laundrette to pick up the washin’. It’s down Lonergan’s, all paid for, the washer’s onna fritz again.’

‘Fuck sake’ muttered Anto, getting his coat and heading out the door. ‘Ma better have stuck my fuckin’ jeans in there. Paid good money for them n’all afore Michael went an’ spilt his whole fuckin’ dinner on me, fuck sake.’

He arrived, got the clothes and headed straight back home to finish the CV, he looked and his jeans and shirts were there too. ‘Thank fuck for somethin’ today’ he thought, as sat back down again and flicked open the laptop.

Halfway through the CV and application form he got bored, and noticed his jeans were still warm from the press. He swiftly got changed into them, his legs embracing the heat. The fit felt a little off, but he thought sure they always do, always a wee bit tighter after a good wash.

Anto breezed through the form, and re-wrote his CV, remembering courses he’d been on that were applicable and training certificates he had but had forgotten he’d earned.

All in all, the application seemed to look good he thought, he even felt bothered enough to write a cover letter telling them just how he was the man for the job.

A ‘Digital Marketing Executive’, he could see it now. The past two years would be a memory. Hell, he’d even tell them about the conviction if it came up and point out how his therapy had cured him. He’d be able to spin it around, they’d maybe even think it was funny. Anto the full-time mad bastard. Anto the Pintman, nicked for only three beer. After all he thought, why let the truth get in the way of a good story!

Crick rang him up that evening, he said he’d found a hundred notes in a baggy on the ground down Cupar street. ‘Mon me n’ you’ll getta wee swall on, out for a rake of pints and we’ll hit up Rubberlips for summa ‘at good stuff. None of that cut shite.’ ‘Fuckin’ right!’ answered Anto, he’d have a good one tonight. After all, how often is it ye find notes lying about round the West? And no doubt no fucker’s gonna be raising a stink either as it was likely dodgy in the first place.

After changing shirts, and brushing his nuggets, Anto met Crick at 8pm down McEnaney’s opposite the cemetery, and the lads swiftly proceeded to commence wineing and bineing as the culchies are so aft of saying.

Soon they were joined by Marty, Wee Steeker and Bonzo who’d sourced the gear and brought a bag of workerman’s glue for desert amongst the tombstones.

When Anto awoke the next morning, fully clothed, he found he still had a full memory of the previous night, plus £20 unspent. He’d gotten a girl’s number last night, and he could remember getting with her before she left. What made it even better was that he still felt pissed, so he didn’t even have a hangover to deal with yet.

On checking his phone to see if the number had all the digits he saw he’d been called five times that morning by a number he didn’t recognise. It wasn’t the girl’s either as he’d saved hers under ‘Fuckin’ Ride’.

He phoned the number and a woman answered. ‘Hello, this is Anthony O’Hara, I’ve got a number of missed calls from you and I was just ringing up to see why.’

‘Oh! Mr. O’Hara, so glad you rang us back! We’ve be trying all morning! My name’s Sarah Waters, we’re ringing you back about your application yesterday. We think you’d be a great candidate and we’re actually having online interviews this morning if you’re still keen on the position?’

‘Umm oh, aye, woah, I wasn’t expecting that, I’ve slept in a wee bit this morning, it was a friend’s birthday last night, em, what time are the interviews at?’

‘We can fit you in in about an hour if that suits, we’re sorry about the short notice, but we really are very eager to get this position filled as soon as we can!’

‘Aye, sure, no bother that’s grand. I’ll send you my Skype now, and we can speak in an hour! Thanks again, I wasn’t expecting this, it’s really appreciated!’

‘No problem at all, we’ll contact you in an hour Anthony, and good luck!’

Hanging up the phone Anto felt strangely calm. In the past he’d be shitin’ bricks and peeling the scalp off himself with anxiety, but for some reason, today he just felt as confident as ever, and he knew what he needed to do.

The old laptop took 20 minutes to load up, but everything else got up and running without a hitch. Anto went to the bathroom, pissed, brushed his teeth, threw some water on his face and decided against a shower. He opted instead to reapply some wax to his hair, and put in some eyedrops, as his eyes were as red as strawberries.

With ten minutes to go he put on a new shirt, but left the jeans, after all, he’d be sitting down. He could even talk to them with his knob hanging out the fly, but he decided against that.

Then the call came, he answered every question, made good natured jokes, and asked more questions back. He explained the gap in his employment, he’d been caring for his Granny (dead 10 years) and he’d been helping his mate out in his landscape gardening business on the side (selling some of Crick’s homegrown weed to teenagers).

When the call ended he felt great, positive for the first time in years. Everything he’d gone through could now be put right. All his education (first one in the family at University for Digital Media) would finally be put to use, and his bad luck would finally come to an end.

Anto decided on a long, hot shower before he went downstairs to tell his Ma n’ Da. They’d be glad to hear it, and it’d get them off his back for the day too.

Fighting for the bathroom was always a constant in the O’Hara house, but as he walked onto the landing it was free, and even better, it didn’t stink of his Da’s arse!

‘I left the immersion on so there’s plenty of hot water there son’ shouted Anto’s Ma. ‘Fuckin’ A’ thought Anto, ‘This day’s goin’ grand!’

However, upon getting undressed and emptying the pockets of his jeans Anto found something he didn’t recognise. A faded and wrinkled receipt for a hammer and some nails from Brannigan’s Hardware. ‘The fuck?’ said Anto, as he looked at the label of the jeans and found they said ‘C. N. Toner’. ‘Huh? What the fuck, these here aren’t my fuckin’ jeans!’ ‘FUCKIN’ BASTARDS!! The cunts have gone an’ fuckin’ gimme some o’r cunt’s jeans. Who the fuck’s Toner, n’ why’s the cunt still labelling his fuckin’ jeans like a fuckin’ child?’

Anto’d spent good money on his jeans, they were his favourite pair and now he began to realise why they felt a bit tighter. He had no idea how he hadn’t clocked it until now, they were even a different shade of denim.

This sort of thing always pissed Anto off no end, as a child he’d lost it when his Ma had lost his favourite Celtic top and then tried to replace it with the newer version. It had lost everything he’d loved about it, the old 1993-94 away design, the fit, the smell, the feel.

He felt his hangover coming on with a vengeance. ‘What da fuck’ve I been playin’ at? What’d I say to thoseuns for the job?’ He couldn’t remember, it was all a blur. He’d probably been rambling, off his nut, he’d fucked it now, he’d made a fool of himself.

Anto began to feel very strange, his skin felt clammy, even as he was under the hot water, he didn’t feel clean, everytime he closed his eyes he kept imagining he’d lost his hands and instead they just ended in conical points. He’d overdone it this time, he was going to die. He tried switching to cold but images just flooded his head of when he was in Donegal as a child and his Da had scared him shitless with tales of the Kelpie, and then afterwards pushed him into a pool of water in the bog. He could see the mad water horse now and he stumbled and fell out’ve the shower gasping for air.

He dressed quickly, in his own clothes now, and headed downstairs. His sister’s were watching Love Island and the inane Essex accents were making him nauseous. ‘How could any cunt sound like ‘at?’ He screamed at them, as he went back to his room to lie down.

His brother was in the room, playing his music, shite homemade techno that he thought sounded sweet, but Anto just didn’t have it in him to say was shite.

He lay down, got under the covers, put his head under the pillow and lay there until he fell into a sweaty and fitful sleep.

He dreamed off everything the previous day, dreamed of Caoimhe, and the other girl he’d got with, dreamed of Big Crick and the feed of pints. Dreamed of that cunt Toner and how he’d had such a good day and night in another fella’s jeans. He woke up to his phone ringing and felt sick.

‘Hello, is this Anthony?’

‘Yeah it is, who’s speaking?’

‘Hi Anthony, this is Sarah again, Sarah Waters, I just wanted to let you know that we were absolutely delighted with your interview and we’d like to offer you the position. When would you like to start?’

‘Awh, I’m sorry, I cant...’

‘Anthony?’

‘Look, I cant, I’m not interested. Alright? It was all a fuckin’ lie, now fuck off.’

‘Excuse me, is this you Anthony? I’m very confused!’

‘Well this here won’t be confusin’ ye, get te fuck, and shut yer fat fuckin’ hole or I’ll come round there and bate the ballix out the lotta yiz, YIZ FUCKIN’ CUNTS!’

He hung up, turned his phone off and rolled over to go back to sleep.

There was no way he’d’ve been able to accept that job. Not after the circumstances. It was all fake, it was all wrong.

Another man’s dreams, in another man’s jeans

submitted by /u/ConnollyWasAPintMan [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/39s2VL2

#Blogger #Story

[joe-whiteside]

post 4 - insomniac

1

It was August when it happened. The 8th or 9th, I don’t remember. I had just gotten through with the day’s overload of work and was closing my computer to get ready to go home. I like to be ready early. I was glancing between the clock and the door, clock and the door, clock and the door. I could tell my meds were wearing off. My ADHD makes me jittery. The medicine worked fine, but only from morning to about 4:30, and here we were: 4:55. I was jittery. I started shaking my leg. I wasn’t nervous or anything, I just couldn’t sit still that day. Probably because I had a small breakfast and there wasn’t much to dissolve the Adderall in. 

It was 4:57 now. 

I couldn’t help but wonder why the clock seemed to move so slow when you’re looking at it, but when you’re working, it’s at a regular speed. This thought would have puzzled me even more if I hadn’t noticed the hand move again. 

4:58. 

I sat there just watching, waiting, shaking. My hands had the nerve to pick up the pen on my desk and start clicking the end. I knew this annoyed my coworkers so I usually tried my best not to but today, I couldn’t help it. It was just so relieving for some reason. 

4:59. 

“I swear, if that clock moves any slower, I’m going to lose my mind,” I thought. At least, I thought I thought it. There’s a chance I said it under my breath without even realizing that I had done it because, at that exact moment of thought, Chris (the guy in the cubicle next to mine) said,

“Me too, Kurt,” 

He sighed.

I remember once, while I was out drinking with some buddies, this woman came into the place dressed like a complete whore. I must have said something about her out loud because when the woman walked by, she gave me a dirty look. I didn’t mind. I was just out to have a beer anyway. I think it’s nice when people say what’s on their mind, though maybe not if they are without basic filters. (I speak of myself, chiefly.) I look back at the clock. It’s 11 seconds until 5. 

Now, nine. 

Six, 

four, 

two... 

finally. 

It’s time to go home.

2

I wasn’t particularly excited to go home that day, nor any other day for that matter. I haven’t got much at home but a bed, a cat, and some of my dad’s old jazz records that I put on from time to time. When he and my mom retired, they moved out West. Montana, I think. They have a large camper and their life right now is best described as an over-extended road trip. At least they’re happy. Anyway, a day before they left, my father came by the house with a box.

“Your mother isn’t a fan of jazz and we don’t have space on the Winnie. You want ‘em?”

“Sure, I’ll take them,” I said, knowing full-well he’d leave them with me no matter what I said. Good thing I like the classics.

It was a rather uneventful drive home that night, and good too because my meds were really coming down now.  I’ve been experimenting with micro-dosing of hallucinogens to help keep me focused even more throughout the day. Those were wearing off too. I was at the point where I’d start counting the lines on the road just to stay focused on driving but I’d always get distracted. And it’s not like it was a long ride home either, just ten minutes, with the traffic of course. But today was a Friday evening and the surrounding businesses all closed early. But not Schlafen Office Supplies. No, we’re open, nine to five, Monday through Friday, all but two days of the year. Christmas and Thanksgiving. And sometimes, it’s just Thanksgiving.

I pull into my driveway and rush inside. It was raining outside and I forgot my umbrella at the office. I unlock the door, greet Samuel, he’s my cat, and turn a few lights on in the house. I give Samuel his dinner and order some China King. Lo mein, an egg roll, two crab rangoons, a Dr. Pepper, and a fortune cookie. I have a page in my kitchen where I write down what I normally get from restaurants because many times, it takes me too long to decide. Then, I go to lie down for a nap and allow the doorbell or Samuel to wake me up. Whichever comes first, I guess. 

As I’m lying there, Sammy jumps up on my chest and I gently put him on the floor. He always seems to know when I don’t want him around. I lie down again. Two minutes later, he’s jumping up onto me again and this time he uses his claws to really ‘stick’ the landing; (I hate that pun). I push him off and he wanders away. I continue reclining and just as I am getting comfortable, Sammy is running from one end of the house to the other, over and over, because that’s what cats do and it would have been fine if he didn’t jump up on me a third time, again, sticking the landing. I stand up and he falls into the sofa and manages to rip the suede cushion covers on his way down.

“GAH! What the hell is wrong with you?!?”

The doorbell rings. I whip around and stub my toe on the coffee table as I mutter and open the door. I sigh.

“I’m sorry, how much do I owe you?”

I pay him the $11.59 he required and gave him a four dollar tip because he looked only sixteen or seventeen and I felt bad for him.

I shut the door and went to the table to eat. 

Damn, I forgot to ask for soy sauce.

As I’m eating, Sammy comes and starts rubbing up on my leg, signaling that he’s sorry. I picked him up and pet him with one hand and held my egg roll with chopsticks in the other.

3

That night after cleaning up dinner, I walked into the bathroom, flipped the switch, and realized the lightbulb had gone out. I didn’t have any extras, I just used the last one on the pineapple lamp my parents got me as a housewarming gift. 

I gotta buy more lightbulbs soon.

I took my evening meds, being sure I took only the prescribed dose, which was hard because I had a million things racing through mind and to make matters worse, my hands were shaking. Next, I took my evening eyedrops. It burned more than usual. After brushing my teeth and flipping the lightswitch (because habits), I went to bed.

4

Whenever I can’t sleep at night, I’ll often read. It relaxes me in a way I can’t exactly describe. That night, it was Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Caroll. I was reading through The New York Times Bestsellers for Classic Fiction list.

I was starting on chapter nine tonight when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I can’t put my finger on it. Just a movement. I went back to reading. I could hear my clock ticking, somewhat louder than before. When I looked over at its face, it seemed to be like water, with ripples and waves about, above the hands as if somebody filled the front of my clock with an ocean. Startled, I turn back to the book that was now warm in my hand. All of a sudden, I’m falling. I shut my eyes, afraid. 

When I finally gain strength to open them, my walls have become darker and my pineapple lamp has acquired an aura of warm-daylight glow. I look down at the book in my hands and see that nothing’s changed. Nothing except for... is it breathing? 

As it pulses in and out and as the words stretch beneath my fingertips, I panic. Hard. I throw the book across the room. In the meantime, my duvet has become an increasingly bold shade of red even though I knew it was blue. I fell against the pillows but I seemed to sink into them as if they were consuming me, no... melting me. 

I manage to pull myself together enough to get up and get a glass of water. Walking into the kitchen, Sammy brushes past my leg and in the pale, blue moonlight, I see a three-foot-tall Sammy sitting on the floor, licking his paws as his ears shoot little orbs of light and sausage above his head. I fill up my water glass telling myself it’s only a dream, praying to God it’s only a dream.

The glass breaks in my hand. 

I scream. Charging into the living room, I yell and stomp and jump and howl until, out of exhaustion, I pass out on the floor, exhausted, hitting my head on the coffee table on the way down.

5

Bright lights. 

White walls.

The cold smell of hand sanitizer.

I’m in a hospital bed hooked up to a dozen machines or so. After a few minutes, a short man in a lab coat and glasses walks in.

“Ah, you’ve come to. My name is Dr. Jefferson. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Ugh...it’s a hospital.” I groan. It hurts to speak.

“That’s right. Do you know your name, sir?”

“Yeah. Kurt. Kurt Osbourne.”

He writes something on his clipboard. 

“Well, it’s not quite as bad as we first thought Mr. Osbourne.”

“What’s not so bad?”

“I thought you might not remember.”

“Remember wha-ahh!” A sharp migraine hits. “Could you get me some water please?”

“Yes, Mr. Osbourne. In the meantime, there’s somebody here to see you.”

As if on cue, a tall, thin black woman in a lilac cardigan, yellow top, and blue jeans walks in.

“Hey, how ya feelin’?”

“Never better,” I hiss sarcastically. “Who are you?” 

“I’m your next-door neighbor Shauna Green. I moved in about a month ago.”

“Oh, I remember you.” It came out more rude than I meant it to. “What happened?”

“Well, it was around 1:30, 2 o’clock last night when I heard you. I had my windows open and you were yellin’ and screaming’ and carryin’ on like and I thought to myself, ‘That man is crazy. What is he doing yellin’ and carrying on like that? I got two kids to take care of.’ Pretty soon, I found myself, in a bathrobe, in front of your door. I was about to give you a piece of my mind when I realized you weren’t angry, you were...” she trailed and her eyes got big. “...you were something else.”

“Something else?”

“Scared, I guess. When I walked to the door, I heard you drop. And you got quiet. I called 911 and they sent over an ambulance. You’ve got a nasty gash on the back of your head there. Don’t touch it, honey, just know it’s there. They picked you up off the ground and I volunteered to stick around seeing as I was the only one who knew what had gone on.”

“Thank you,” I said dully. My head pained again. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Is that doctor back yet?”

“Why, yes I am.” he chimed, walking in as if we both knew he wasn’t listening.

Dr. Jefferson then handed me a glass of water a pain pill (which I was eternally grateful for) and he started his spiel.

“We found an alarmingly high amount of psychedelics in your bloodstream. Do you know anything about this?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Patient-doctor confidentiality applies within the law also.”

Glancing around, I say, “I only use ‘em to stay focused at work along with my Adderall. I have ADHD. I’m not an acidhead, I just do it for my concentration.”

A pause.

“How much did you find in my system?”

“Well, there was enough to make you think you could fly. And probably enough to make you try. Luckily, we don’t think you did.” He chuckled at this last statement. I resented him a little for it.

Thinking, I said, “Wait, I only take them in the morning before work. In microdoses,” I asserted. “How did they get so potent?”

“Our observations show an extremely high amount, if not all, was ingested through the eyes.”

“That’s impossible. Who uses LSD on their eyes?”

Then, it hit me. 

The lightbulb was out. I grabbed the first eye-dropper I felt. I’m such an idiot.

Just then, my face felt hot. I blushed and felt the most shame I’ve felt ever. In the moment, I was reminded of the time I went to the public pool with my family. I was a small kid so not everything always fit so well. While swimming, the knot on my shorts came undone and I hadn’t noticed. The inevitable happened when I went to dive off the diving board. I went head-first into the water. In the air, I was a swan. When I hit the water, my shorts came loose and slipped right off my little 12 year old body. I didn’t notice until I climbed up the ladder and exposed myself to a group of old women sunbathing.

Yeah, all that came back real quick.

Getting up, “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”

“Hold on there fella, you can’t leave yet,” Dr. Jefferson says, putting his remarkably large hand on my chest, holding me down.

“Let...me...go!” I say as I struggle with him to get out of the bed. I am rather weak.

“Nurses!” he calls.

Three large women come through the door. Two of them tie me to the bed with nylon straps while the third adds something to the IV.

That’s when the melting started again...

-joe whiteside

#short story #fiction #short fiction #lsd #drama #storyteller

[fear-god-shun-evil]

Have You Seen Through Satan’s Schemes Behind Illness

By Xiaojie, Singapore

I’m a Christian. One day, illness befell me who had always been healthy. I wondered at this and thought: Does God test my confidence through it?

In 2017, I got acquainted with a sister on Facebook. She often shared God’s words and hymns with me and witnessed Almighty God’s work of the last days to me. Through reading God’s words, I felt the word expressed by Almighty God has authority and power and is the voice of God. I also got to understand that God becomes flesh in the last days to express the truth and do the work of judgment for the purpose that we can be cleansed and released from the bondage of sin and won’t live in a situation of sinning in the day and confessing at night any longer. Only when we accept Almighty God’s work in the last days, pursue the truth, cast off our corrupt disposition and are purified can we enter into the kingdom of heaven. After a period of time of investigation, I was sure that Almighty God is the appearance of the Lord Jesus, so I readily accepted God’s work of the last days.

Before long, I officially joined the Church of Almighty God. Through attending gatherings and reading God’s words with brothers and sisters, I understood many truths I hadn’t understood before, and felt at ease and peaceful within. So I resolved to believe in God and read God’s words properly.

One morning, I suddenly had a sore throat after getting up. At first I thought I just got some infection of my throat and I would be all right if I drank more water. But several days later, my condition was getting worse. I felt as if something stuck in my throat.. It hurt so much that I didn’t dare to swallow when eating food or drinking water. I even coughed up particles. Then, I went to see a doctor, who only prescribed some antibiotics. Although I was still rather worried about my condition, I believed God would care for and protect me so I would be fine. After taking medicine for several days, it didn’t bring any relief to my condition. Moreover, I was unable to speak due to severe pain in my throat. So I searched on the Internet. Some people online said that I might get a tonsil stone, which gave me a bad fright. The next day, I told one of my colleagues: “I may get tonsil stone. What should I do?” After hearing this, she told me she read a piece of news some time ago, and the patient’s symptoms were similar to mine. She suggested that I should go to the hospital to have the operation. After hearing these words, I was even more afraid: What if I really have tonsil stone? After a few days, my throat didn’t get better; I also had inflammation in the corner of my eye that my eyes ached so much that I could hardly keep my eyes open. So I went to see a doctor. The doctor said it was just inflammation, and then prescribed me some antibiotics and eyedrops. But they didn’t work on me. These series of illness made me feel extreme pain. I thought: I alone work in Singapore, and have no my family by my side, and none takes care of me when I get sick. If I go to hospital for the operation, it will surely affect my work. When I was at work, the moment I thought of my illness I would weep. After I got off work and went back to my dorm, I would pour out my heart to my family with tears on the phone. At that time, I felt upset and wondered: I’ve always been in good health, and since I worked in Singapore I seldom fell ill during such a long time. But why did I get sick quite often recently? Why does God not protect me? Thinking of these, I felt miserable. I didn’t want to pray to God, nor attend meetings. I even blamed God within: Since I’ve determined to properly follow God and pursue the truth, why am I not as strong as before?

After knowing my condition, a sister fellowshiped to me: “Xiaojie, this is a spiritual struggle. Seeing that we’ve come before God and have the will to pursue the truth, Satan is unwilling to let us go easily, so it does everything to disturb us and hinder us from pursuing the truth and worshiping God. The illness we encounter is Satan’s temptation. And its scheme is for us to misunderstand God, suspect God, lose faith in God and thus betray God. We need to rely on God to see through Satan’s tricks.” She then sent a passage of God’s words to me: “God works, God cares for a person, looks upon a person, and Satan dogs His every step. Whoever God favors, Satan also watches, trailing along behind. If God wants this person, Satan would do everything in its power to obstruct God, using various evil ways to tempt, harass and wreck the work God does in order to achieve its hidden objective. What is its objective? It does not want God to have anyone; it wants all those that God wants, to possess them, control them, to take charge of them so they worship it, so they commit evil acts alongside it. Is this not Satan’s sinister motive?”

Through the sister’s fellowship and the words of God, I understood: I’ve always been healthy. And the reason why I suddenly get sick is that Satan attempts to tempt me. It uses my illness to make me live in weakness and pain. Satan’s scheme in this is to shake my resolution and faith to follow God, and to make me misunderstand God, suspect God, even betray God and then return to its reign. Satan truly is too evil and despicable. Thank God for allowing me to gain discernment of Satan’s tricks. So I prayed to God within: “Dear God, all matters and things are in Your command. Whether I will get better or not is in Your hand. I am unwilling to fall for Satan’s tricks and be harassed by it. I hope that You’ll grant me faith.” When I was determined not to be enshackled by illness anymore, and went on to normally attend meetings with brothers and sisters and read God’s words, my throat gradually got better, and so did my eyes. How wondrous and almighty God was!

One day, while I was working, I felt my trousers chafed my thigh. After I got off work and returned to my dorm, I saw there were some blisters on my thigh. At that moment, I felt afraid and wondered what was the matter with me. So I hurried to see a doctor. The doctor only said the blisters were caused by a bacterial infection and prescribed some antibiotics and ointments. After learning that I got sick again, a sister hurriedly brought me some ointments and communicated the truth to me. Thank God. From my last experience of illness I gained some knowledge of spiritual battles. My previous experience and knowledge and the sister’s concern for me made me not suffer in my heart. But several days later, seeing some of the blisters grew big, I was a bit weak and really was afraid that my illness would get even worse. At that time, the sister sent God’s words to me: “Almighty God, the Head of all things, wields His kingly power from His throne. He rules over the universe and all things and He is guiding us on the whole earth. … When sickness happens it is due to God’s love and His good intentions are surely behind it. Even when your body endures suffering, take no ideas from Satan. Praise God in the midst of illness and enjoy God in the midst of your praise. Do not lose heart in the face of illness, keep seeking and never give up, and God shall shine His light to you. How faithful was Job? Almighty God is an all-powerful physician! To dwell in sickness is to be sick, but to dwell in the spirit is to be well. If you have but one breath, God will not let you die.” God’s words gave me faith. I understood: I need to have faith in God in the midst of illness, and can’t be fooled by Satan any longer or enshackled by illness. So, I prayed to God: “O God, now I encounter illness again, but I’m not negative. Regardless of how Satan attacks me, regardless of how weak my flesh is, I won’t leave You.” Later, whenever I felt weak, I prayed to God. A few days later, these blisters on my thigh were gone unconsciously.

These two experiences gave me some understanding of Satan’s evil and despicableness, and strengthened my faith in God. Thinking back, I alone worked in Singapore and what I feared the most was illness, while Satan was just using my weakness to attack me. Satan really is too detestable. However, God’s wisdom is exercised based on Satan’s schemes. In the midst of illness, I, under the enlightenment and guidance of God’s words, experienced God’s omnipotence and dominion; I also saw that all things and matters are in God’s hand and that without God’s permission Satan dare not touch a hair of our head. So, in the midst of temptation, I’ve learned how to rely on God and stand by His side, and also gained some discernment about Satan’s schemes.

One day, during my devotionals I saw these words of God: “How many believe in Me only so I would heal them? How many believe in Me only so I would use My powers to drive unclean spirits out of their bodies? And how many believe in Me simply to receive peace and joy from Me? How many believe in Me only to demand from Me more material wealth, and how many believe in Me just to spend this life in safety and to be safe and sound in the world to come? How many believe in Me only to avoid the suffering of hell and to receive the blessings of heaven? How many believe in Me only for temporary comfort but do not seek to gain anything in the world to come? When I brought down My fury upon man and seized all the joy and peace he originally possessed, man became doubtful. When I gave unto man the suffering of hell and reclaimed the blessings of heaven, man’s shame turned into anger. When man asked Me to heal him, yet I acknowledged him not and felt abhorrence for him, man went far away from Me and sought the way of witch doctors and sorcery. When I took away all that man had demanded from Me, then all disappeared without a trace. Therefore, I say that man has faith in Me because I give too much grace, and there is far too much to gain.” The revelation in God’s words made me feel ashamed. Looking back, I saw my viewpoint of believing in God was wrong. I believed in order to be blessed and to receive grace from God. So when encountering illness, I didn’t seek the truth to obey God, but instead made a demand of God, hoping that He could cure me of my illness. And I believed that since I had believed in God, I should receive His care and protection. Therefore, when God’s work didn’t match my notions, I complained to Him and even gave rise to doubts about Him. Through this, I realized: I had no true faith in God, much less had love toward Him. The purpose of God expressing words and bestowing the truth upon us in the last days is to cleanse and change us mankind and to allow us to break free from the bondage of sin. If my believing in God isn’t pursuing the truth, casting off my corrupt disposition or eventually obeying God and loving God, then my belief will be in vain. After realizing my wrong viewpoint, I prayed to God silently: “O God! That I can accept Your work of the last days really is Your great blessing for me. Though I believe in You, I conduct transactions with You. This truly wounds Your heart. I am willing to turn my wrong views around. From now on, I am willing to only pay attention to pursuing the truth and practicing the truth in order to satisfy You, and not willing to pursue blessing or grace. No matter what happens in the future, I will learn to submit to You and perform the duty that a creature ought to perform to repay Your love.”

#Lord Jesus #pray #believe in God

[blockheadbrands]

How to Not Smell Like Cannabis After Smoking: 5 Items to Have On-Hand

Dante Jordan of Leafly Reports:

I’ve never been the type of person to broadcast my high in public, either due to the fact that I look high or because I smell strongly of cannabis. That’s not because I’m ashamed of it, I just don’t want to deal with the silent judgments of strangers I encounter in the wild. It’s my biggest pet peeve in the world.

To protect myself from having to deal with awkward stares whenever I venture out, I make sure to keep a few key items on deck that’ll allow me to flourish in disguise and move amongst the non-stoned like a red eye- and odor-free ninja. And since I love you, I’m going to share that list below. A wise man once said, “If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready.” (That wise man was me. Just now. You’re welcome.)

Eye Drops and Contact Lens Solution

Off-top the most important thing to keep on deck are eye drops. I don’t know about you, but my eyes get so damn red when I’m high. All it takes is one hit of the good stuff and my eyes instantly flame up like fingertips in Hot Cheeto dust. It bothers the hell of out me, so I keep a bottle of eye drops in my car, in my backpack, and also around the house.

As for which brand to reach for, my suggestion is Clear Eyes. They’re the cheapest, come in reasonably-priced small and large-size bottles for the budget-friendly shoppers, and will keep your eyes on Code White for at least three hours. For the rich people with abundant disposable income, I suggest Rohto. MAKE SURE TO GET THE GREEN BOX. I don’t know why, but those are the only ones that work for me. I once smoked before dinner with parents, used a bottle of the silver Rohto, then got to the restaurant and my eyes were still on Cyclops. You don’t want to be in that situation.

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In addition to eye drops, if you wear contacts, make sure to keep solution on you as well. Just because your eyes aren’t red doesn’t mean they aren’t dry as hell. Even with “moisturizing” eye drops, your lenses might still slide into an ultra-dehydrated state. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve used eye drops and my contacts still dried up into glass spheres of death. Rule of thumb: If your mouth is dry, so are your eyes. Protect yourself, my friends.

Hand Sanitizer and Lotion

I smoke blunts so my fingers always smell like cannabis and hard work. It’s a part of the game that I’ve learned to accept. Sometimes in life you have to take the good with the bad, and if my fingers have to stink for me to float above the clouds, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.

But that doesn’t mean I have to let it linger. Neither do you. Always keep some hand sanitizer on deck because your fingers are definitely green from pulling apart the nugs and your fingers definitely smell like your last session. The hand sanitizer is the first phase of the On-The-Go cleaning kit. Throw a little bit on your palms, toss a little bit on your fingertips and rub it all around until you’re no longer DJ Green Thumbs.

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The only problem is hand sanitizer dries your hands out tremendously and you’ll be left with the ashiest mitts possible. Yes, even you, white people. That’s when lotion comes into play. Your mitts are dry and you don’t want to run the risk of starting a fire with your bare hands. You aren’t a boy scout. You aren’t Havok or El Diablo. You don’t need to be out here placing lives at risk because you didn’t lather up, so make sure to keep lotion on hand. (As always, pun intended.)

Wet Wipes/Facial Cleansing Pads

You ever been so high that you had to splash some cold water in your face to wake up? If not, it’s time to get a better strain and take yourself to infinity and beyond. If so, then bring it in, let’s hug it out; we’re family. Sometimes I get so high that the only way I can bring myself back to life is to head to the bathroom and slap myself with a fistful of puddle.

But what do you do when you don’t have a fistful of H2O on hand? You don’t fret, that’s what. Because you’ve got wet wipes or facial cleansing pads handy. These two items are more than sufficient for the aforementioned purpose. For the facial pads, I suggest Clearasil pads. Not because they’re special, but mainly because at first glance “Clearasil” looks like “Clarissa,” which reminds me of Clarissa Explains It All, the most un-talked about great show of my childhood.

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For wet wipes, I suggest barbecue for dinner. Not only will you get a delicious meal, but you can ask for as many wet wipes as you need without question or judgment. Load the fuck up. You paid for the food, you get the wet wipes. That’s a little something I like to call killing two birds with one debit card swipe.

Cologne/Body Spray

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people reek of cannabis. I know that sounds a little get-off-my-lawnish, but that’s how I feel. When people hotbox their cars, then walk around in public pretending they have no clue why everyone is staring at them, it annoys the shit out of me. Mostly because it’s inconsiderate of others. You can’t just go around throwing canna-smells into strangers’ faces without their permission.

That’s exactly why you should keep some real cologne or body spray on deck at all times. It’ll minimize your aroma while also minimizing unwanted attention. I very rarely smell like smoke, but when I do, a couple sprays of that Polo Red and I’m good money. If I don’t have cologne, it’s whatever body spray I have in my gym bag. Usually it’s Axe, but I suggest you go with Old Spice because it’s stronger and fights odor for longer.

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Note: If you hotboxed your car then neither cologne nor body spray can help you. You reek of cannabis now, you’ll reek of cannabis later, and this will remain your truth for the entirety of the day until you shower and change clothes. Please crack a window or tilt the sunroof next time. I’m not saying that out of judgment, I just want you to live your best life. Because I respect you as an individual.

Gum/Mints/Mouthwash

Let’s be honest, if you smoked then your breath stinks. I don’t care what flavors you tasted on the inhale, I promise the exhale was not as pleasant. There are very few things in this world that are worse than having a conversation with a bad-breath individual. One of those things is being that individual with bad breath. Even the coolest human can’t pull off stinky tonsils, and that’s why you should have some kind of breath-freshening device on hand.

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This item is almost as important as eyedrops. In fact, they’re 1A and 1B; they go hand in hand. Whether it’s gum, mints, mouthwash, or my preferred Listerine strips, just make sure you keep these ready to rock at all times. Hell, even if you didn’t smoke, chances are you need fresher breath. I mean, you brushed your teeth at 7:00 a.m. and it’s almost 3 o’clock now. Think about it.

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON LEAFLY, CLICK HERE.

https://www.leafly.com/news/pop-culture/tips-to-avoid-smelling-like-cannabis

[keratoconusgroup]

Here's what my cornea transplant was like

I wrote this up 11 years ago when I got my first cornea transplant. I'm 42 now. Since then I've had the other eye done too, like four years ago. Recovery was a little longer on that one, not sure why; I was out of work for two weeks. Both corneas are doing super awesome and I see at almost 20/20 with soft lenses now - a normal disposable lens in the left eye and a Kerasoft lens in the right. Life is pretty normal and I rarely remember that I have keratoconus. Both operations were done by different surgeons in Boston, whose names I can get you if you want 'em. There are cuss words in this, if that's a thing you care about. April 2006 Here's what I learned about people who give cornea transplants: either they have crappy senses of humor, or they've heard just about all the cornea jokes they can handle. Here's a brief list of things none of my doctors have found funny: The obvious one, "Can I get some lasers put in there?" "Can I get some X-Ray vision put in there?" If you give me a serial killer's cornea, will I be forced to kill and kill again?" Not like these are the awesomest jokes ever, but here's the thing: Most cornea transplant patients are like 80 years old. I honestly figured they might not have thought of 'em. Apparently 80-year-olds want laser vision just as much as we do. Which, really, who wouldn't? It's not like old dudes have never heard of laser vision. Here's what everyone was entertained by: I am apparently the first person to ask if I could keep my cornea. They were flabbergasted by that one. They did let me keep it, though, and they gave it to me in the same vial that my new cornea came in, so I now know that my donor was a 50-year-old dude who died on April 17. Thanks, dude! Were you a serial killer? The old cornea looks like a little, dirty contact lens. With dots around the edges, because they dyed it so they'd know where to chop. Here's what they used to chop my cornea out: something like a tiny toilet plunger with sharp points around the edge. I was gonna make a crack about how they just stick it in, twist and yank, but then I image-Googled it and holy mother of God, that's exactly what they did. That was a lot easier to deal with when I thought I was kidding. I was awake during the twist-and-pull part - all the parts, actually - which you would think would be pretty not-so-great, and I definitely thought would suck but man, they got some crazy drugs these days. Here's how crazy the drug they had me on was: I was completely lucid - able to talk to the doctor, ask him what he was doing, and make fun of him about the fact that he was operating to Willy Nelson - and at the same time, I was completely unfazed by the fact that he was clearly fucking with my eyeball with knives. At one point the usual blur I see out of my eye was replaced by nothing but a bright light, and I distinctly remember saying, "Oh shit, did you just take my cornea out?" "Yep." "Neeeaaat..." I kept my right eye shut so that I could see what was going on with my left one better. The point is, that's not a drug you want to be on in an uncontrolled situation. That drug was scary. Y'know that scene in Hannibal - the crappy book, not the crappy movie - where Lecter gets the dude to slice his own face off and feed it to his dogs? When I read that scene I remember thinking, "That's totally unrealistic, man!" But I bet he was on some drugs just like this. Things about the operation that disappointed me: No laser vision The patch I walked out with was distinctly un-pirate. I was expecting a pirate patch. That patch looked a lot more like the kind of patch you wear when someone's been fucking with your eyeballs with knives. Things I learned following the operation: Next time I'm not gonna ask the nurses their opinions about whether I should self-medicate with weed. That really freaked them out. Next time I'm just gonna shut up and go ahead and do it. Because seriously, man: That shit thins out oxygen bubbles in your blood and all, thus quite possibly relieving pressure in your eye, which is the main point of concern during the first hours after surgery. It's certainly not gonna hurt. Okay yes, it also enlarges the blood vessels in your eye specifically, but that actually shouldn't be a problem. Since when is more blood (but thinner) around the area of an injury a bad thing? That's why scalp wounds heal faster. I probably should have smoked some weed that first night, because Mother of God that night sucked. We're not gonna talk about that night. Next day was pretty weak too, in large part because I was tired - neither [my first wife] nor I got a lot of sleep that first night. But the patch came off, the pain went down and by 3:00 I was getting sick of being an invalid. That night [a friend] came over and we watched the game and had some beers, and the next morning I was back at work. Right now I'm wearing a shield - basically a no-prescription contact - in the left eye, and I'm dumping mad eyedrops in there like four times a day, and I gotta wear sunglasses whenever I'm anywhere near outside. The eye is not psyched about the brightness. But I'm pretty much fine. The exciting news is that the vision in my left eye is already way, way better than it was before the operation. It may even be better than my right eye. And I shouldn't see the full benefits of the surgery for 3 to 6 months, so this is pretty exciting stuff. Apparently the cornea is all scratched up right now, as all corneas are when they're first transplanted. (Don't ask me, man.) If the transplant holds, the scratches will heal and my vision will get even better. Cornea transplants have between a 5 and 30% chance of being rejected, and you would think that scientists could come up with a more exact number than that. If it's between 5 and 30%, then it's about 18%, right? Jeez. Also, no one will tell me exactly what things might conspire to tilt my odds towards the 5% end of the scale. I would love to have that information. But whatever, still: an 80% chance of success would be enough for me to go all in in a poker hand and gloat while I did it. I'm pretty comfortable with those odds. Physically, I have a fairly tame black eye. My left eyelid gets droopy sometimes - they must've hurt the muscles while they were propping it open Clockwork Orange style. And it's slightly bloodshot. I look like I got in a fight, but not a very big one. But that's about it for the after-effects, man. Well, that and last time I saw you I could see into your soul, and it was black. Black and corrupt like the tar pits of Hades. But me and my new eye know just what to do about that. submitted by /u/AlexInBrooklyn [link] [comments] https://www.reddit.com/r/Keratoconus/comments/5xd1tl/heres_what_my_cornea_transplant_was_like/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr