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ereardon · 8 months

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The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 4 [Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Bob leaves on the Uranium mission; Haley remembers the one time Bob came to see her that the two of them refuse to speak about; Bob makes a decision

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of death

Word count: 1.8K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

It’s only a week. That’s what Bob said over the phone when he told you about a mission they were all set to leave for on Thursday. The two of you only had three days before he left.

“Should I be worried?” you asked, pacing around the bedroom of your hotel room. You were barefoot but walking on the carpet made your skin crawl. You longed for the soft duvet of your townhouse back in Charleston, the way your kitchen knives were organized just so, even that one pair of sweatpants with the hole in the cuff that you had left at home thinking you wouldn’t be gone that long.

“No,” Bob said, but there was something in his voice that made you stop dead in your tracks, eyes glued on the dirty window.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Bob sighed on the other end of the line. “It’s dangerous,” he said carefully.

“How dangerous?”

There was a pause. Then, “It’s never been done before,” Bob said. “I, we, don’t even know if it can be done.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your vision started to go spotty and you let it out in a short cough.

“Peanut?” Bob’s voice was laced with concern. “Honey, please. I’m going to be fine.”

“How can you say that?”

“Where are you?”

“The hotel.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, you were snuggled up on Bob’s couch wearing one of his t-shirts and snacking on a bowl of popcorn. He had your feet in his lap, massaging over them gently.

Bob slid one hand up your ankle. “Feeling better?”

“No.” You pulled your legs off of Bob’s lap and sat up, cross legged, your knees brushing against his thighs. “How do you do this, Bobby? I’m fucking terrified something is going to happen to you.”

“It’s the job, honey. I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Why didn’t you pick something safer?” you asked. “Like mall security or an accountant? Accountants never get shot down by enemy jets.”

Bob smiled ruefully. “You worry too much.”

“I mean it, Bobby,” you said softly. “Would you ever consider leaving the Navy?”

He reached up, thumb stroking your cheek. “If I had someone to come home to, yeah, I would. But most of the time I come back from a mission to an empty fridge and an overgrown lawn.” He paused. “I’ve never had someone waiting for me on the tarmac, crying they’re so ecstatic to see me.”

A tear slid down your cheek and he wiped it away. “Then come home,” you whispered. “And this time it’ll be different from all the other times. I promise.”

“Stay here,” Bob said instantly and you frowned. “Ditch your hotel room. The guest bedroom is way nicer.” He smiled. “And selfishly, I want you to be here when I come home.”

“OK,” you said and he grinned. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You marry me.”

Bob smiled, eyes glimmering. “Peanut.”

“I mean it,” you said and his blue eyes shifted left, then right, as if he was reading a book. He was trying to gauge if you were serious or not.

You were dead serious.

“You come home next Friday and we get married.”

“Haley,” Bob said softly. “What’s the rush?”

“I knew I was going to marry you when we were fifteen,” you replied. “Come home from this mission, Bobby, and marry me. At the very least, just promise me you’ll come home.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “I promise,” Bob whispered. “I’m coming back for you.”

Two days later, you sat in the front seat of Bob’s truck, hand raised in a wave as he turned and marched into the hangar. You wiped the tears from your eyes and yanked the truck into reverse, not letting yourself look back.

Bob’s house felt empty. It was charming, but it lacked a clear sense of style. It was obvious that Bob had only purchased necessities, and he hadn’t made the effort to match or style anything.

You spent the first three days of his mission with your phone ringer on, trailing in and out with new items: a wooden coffee table, a new side chair, new sheets and a comforter for Bob’s bed and the guest bedroom. You filled the cabinets and fridge with groceries.

And then you sat and watched the minutes go by. Every second your phone didn’t ring felt like a lifetime.

On the fourth day Bob was gone, the phone rang. It startled you out of your sleep and you made your way, bleary, to the kitchen where it sat on the counter. Who still had a fucking home phone line?

Without thinking, you grabbed it. “Hello?”

There was a pause and then a woman’s voice. “Hello?”

You frowned. “Hi.”

“Oh, hi.” She sounded older. “Oh my, I hope I have the right number. I was looking to leave a message for Bobby.”

“This is the right number,” you said. “Sorry, who is this?”

She laughed. “This is Patty. I’m Bobby’s mother.”

You had thought she sounded familiar. A blush crept up your neck. “Oh, Mrs. Floyd. Hi, it’s Haley Nichols. From Woodmont High.”

“Haley.” Mrs. Floyd’s voice was soft and light and it blanketed you. “Honey, how are you?”

“I’m good,” you said, knocking your ankles together. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” she replied. “I’m never fine until Bobby’s back from a mission.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I get that.”

“So are you and Bobby…” She trailed off.

“Oh, I, um, I’m just visiting,” you replied. “Had some vacation time.” You brushed over the fact that until two weeks ago, you hadn’t seen Bob in more than a decade.

“Well it’s very nice to hear from you, Haley.”

“You, too, Mrs. Floyd.”

“Promise you’ll have Bobby call me when he’s back?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, dear. You take care of yourself, OK?”

“I will.” Then, “Mrs. Floyd?”

“Patty, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “Patty. How do you do it?” you asked. “Let him go, knowing that something could go wrong?”

She sighed. “Honey, it never gets easier. You just have to have faith. He’ll come back, he always does.”

***

Despite the fact that you and Bob never spoke about it, the day your parents drove you away, your hands glued to the back window of the truck as Bob stood in the middle of the street, wasn’t actually the last time you saw Bob before you ended up on his doorstep in San Diego.

The two of you had stayed in touch, as well as you could before cell phones were a big thing, and back when email meant firing up your family’s computer room desktop that took thirty minutes to load a Bing page.

When you were eighteen, Bob had been the one to show up unannounced.

Your heart had broken when you came home one night, wasted, clinging to the arm of a guy from your first-year finance seminar, and the elevator doors opened to reveal Bob sitting with his back against the door of your dorm room, a bouquet of flowers wilting in his hands.

He stood when the doors opened, and there was a moment of sobering clarity as the two of you locked eyes.

You dropped the hand of the guy you were with, stepping closer, not really letting yourself believe it was Bob. He looked older, but only slightly. He still had a layer of baby fat on his cheeks that was gone now that he was in his thirties. But back then he had rosy, thick cheeks, and a grimace across his perfect face.

It was the look of sadness that resonated with you.

“Bobby?” you whispered, getting closer.

He looked up. There was so much grief in his eyes. He held out the flowers and you took them, unsure of what else to do. “I shouldn’t have come,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, speed walking down the hall, pressing the elevator button and stepping inside without a second look before you could even make sense of what was happening in your inebriated state.

That had been the last time you saw Bob Floyd.

***

Your feet were sweating inside of your shoes. There was an anxiety that coursed through your veins that felt unlike anything you had ever experienced before. All you knew was that an automated voice message had been left on Bob’s machine while you were out getting groceries. His squadron was returning that afternoon.

You dropped the bag of groceries in the sink, grabbed your keys to the rental car and sped across the bridge toward North Island.

Your heart was threatening to fly out of your chest. Two weeks before, you hadn’t spoken to Bob Floyd in more than a decade. Two weeks before, you never would have been able to believe that you’d be standing on the tarmac, bright sun blinding you, waiting nervously for Bob Floyd to come home. That if something had happened to him, you would never forgive yourself.

That maybe, everything you had felt as kids had never really gone away. Only faded, softly, to just a thin heartbeat that you stashed away somewhere where you couldn’t hear it pounding in your ears. But it was there, it had always been there.

And then there was a rumbling. You turned your head, peering into the distance, trying to piece together exactly what was happening. There were footsteps, loud stomps, and the sound of jets powering down, and finally after a few moments you saw figures headed your way, toward the large white hangar on your right.

You grounded your feet, eyes flickering left and right, trying to find him. Trying to see anyone you recognized. But they were just bodies in green flight suits, difficult to distinguish from one another.

“Haley.” Bob’s voice rang out across the tarmac and you were dashing forward before you even realized it, launching into his arms as he dropped his duffle bag just in time to catch you, your fingers gripping his neck and shoulders tight, face buried against him, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” you whispered, pulling back and Bob lowered you down. “You’re alive.”

His eyes melted. Bob reached up, wiping away a tear from your cheek that you hadn’t even realized was there. “The answer is yes, Peanut,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ll marry you,” Bob replied and your heart sank in your chest. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

You tasted like a lie.

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hikarry · 2 months

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Do you believe in any religion?

You've said you've got religious trauma, but did that pull you away from all religions?

Eh, not really. Not in any organized religion, at least

I was stuck between Catholic Christianity and evangelical Christianity for all my childhood up until I was 19. My father forced me to complete all the Catholic rituals, and my grandparents took me to evangelical church up until I was 15, I believe. And, believe me, I was a very devoted Christian overall.

I was scared of God. I didn't listen to worldly music or read worldly books. I dressed modestly. I never swore. Homosexuality was disgusting and a sin. Every time I was left alone, I thought Jesus was coming, and everyone that was good was raptured, and I was left behind - I had many panic attacks on the account of that.

I think the spell broke when I actually started to sit down and read the Bible from beginning to end. Some stuff didn't match up or didn't make sense altogether, so I started writing notes. God, I wrote so many notes. Then I discovered other religions and how most religions are the same thing just in a different color and, yeah. Then I found out I was gay. Had a bit of an existential crisis. But the card castle finally fell

Currently, I don't believe in any God or supernatural entity that looks after and has power over us

I don't believe in any type of magic be it witchy or miracles or any other kind

Truth be told, I'm still figuring out what I believe in

It's not that I believe, but I trust that the universe has my back. I trust there's surface above the water. I trust that everything will work out in the end somehow

Could that be considered fate? I'm not completely sure. I don't believe that our life is written, but I do believe there are forces trying to keep us afloat. Energies

This might sounds silly but I believe in vibes a lot. Or call it gut feeling, whatever. I've learned to trust it and it ain't never failed me so far

I think the only concept religion wise that I believe is karma (is that hindu? Buddhism?) And only because I've seen it act with my two lil eyes

Apart from that? Eh. I study religions both for fun and professionally, so maybe that made me too detached to be able to blindly follow something that truth be told is not based on logic

The most illogical I allow myself to be is trusting in the universe

Fun fact: when I was 12 I was dead for 2 minutes whilst in surgery. I didn't have an outer body experience. Didn't see the light. Didn't feel peace. Didn't see heaven or hell. I didn't noticed I died at all! When I woke back up in my bedroom it was like nothing had happened at all and I had just woken up from the anesthesia. My father got so shocked it probably took him around 5 years to process his kid literally was dead for a while because he just told me about this when I was like 17. So, ya see, I consider that evidence that there's no such thing as an after life. We are just sacks of meat like any other animal and when we are gone, we are gone. Sure, might be a sad way to live: after all, what's the propose? And I honestly don't think there's one. We are a miracle of evolution. The universe itself probably doesn't know what to do with us freaks

Anyway, I still respect every religion. I don't have any problem with people believing in stuff, as long as they don't try to press me into submission under their chosen diety. Then I will be forced to be rude, which is never fun

But alas, yall believe in whatever you want. As long as we all chill, we good

#asks #anon

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yesttoheaven · 3 years

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I SEE YOU – chapter III

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.6k

warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.

The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.

Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.

Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.

Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.

Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:

"This actress is so graceful."

"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.

When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.

"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.

"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."

"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."

The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.

...

Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.

Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.

The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.

"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.

With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:

"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:

"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"

"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."

"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.

It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.

"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."

"How d-did you know?"

"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"

"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.

"What are you saying?"

"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."

"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.

Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.

"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.

"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."

Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.

"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"

"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.

"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"

The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.

"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.

Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.

Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.

"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."

"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."

"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"

"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"

The man shook his head in agreement.

"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.

"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."

"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."

"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"

"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"

"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."

Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.

When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...

"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."

Unhappy.

Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.

Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.

"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.

The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:

"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."

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

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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resinatingbeauty · 3 years

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In Memory of The Best Friend I Ever Had - RIP Shadow (assumed)- 4/30/2021

Shadow showed up at my parents house where I lived at the time, one night back in 2016. I had just gotten home from working at a local country club late in the evening, tired, and physically burnt out from working 40+ hours a week on top of going to college for my associates degree. I saw something pass by the driveway out of the corner of my eye. Something massively fluffy, tail straight up in the air, trotting along. There are many feral cat colonies in this town and many cat owners that lived on that street. Needless to say, I didn't expect this one to whip back around and start chirping at me, rubbing my legs after I called to her.

My mother was adamant when my last two cats had past 8 or so years prior that she wasn't looking for any more pets. My mom loves animals, but she also loves her home and was thinking about doing renovations before adopting any new companions. I knew I was in trouble when this cat came to me with nothing but affection, clearly malnourished, but strangely well groomed. I knew she had to be owned by someone, I had no idea who.

That night I went inside after spending some time enjoying her company. At the time, I was calling 'Charlemange'' as a play on 'Charlemagne'. I had been taking a medieval humanities course at the time and the name seemed fitting enough considering how much scraggly fur she had. Huge paws. Big, fluffy tail and mane. I had never seen a cat so gorgeous around the area. All the feral cats are short hairs, reinforcing my notion that she had to be someone's pet.

I watched through the window slit of the front door as Charlemange played with the moths and other bugs that were attracted to the lamp post my parents have at the end of the driveway and regretted leaving her out there.

I simply thought that Charlemange would return home where she belonged. When I went out to my back screened in patio, whom do you think was waiting for me? Meowing? Charlemange. To my mother's horror, she would launch herself at the screen and hang there to get our attention. Imagine this big ass cat hanging from your screened in porch you've been trying to renovate by all her claws.

She was persistent and Charlemange NEVER returned home, wherever home was.

Eventually, I sealed the deal, low key giving her a can of tuna. Now you see how Shadow went from Charlemange to Shadow.

For about a month, all I had to do was make a high pitched noise and Shadow would come out of wherever brush she was stalking, running and talking until she found me. One evening, I went to give her her dinner, and she shot in the front door.

Mortified, I watched as she scooted right into the one place that I dreaded her to go. My parent's room. That night, as a 20 something, I received a lecture from my father about how my mother felt about pets. 'She isn't a kitten, you know,' he said, 'thats a grown cat. Someone else's cat.'

I just listened and acknowledged what he was saying. I knew there was no point trying to explain what exactly happened. When my dad got done going off on the back porch and went back in to bed, I heard a meow from the patio door. Shadow had been standing at the door, waiting for him to leave , almost like she was saying, 'Hey, I'm really sorry about that, sis,'

Shadow would go on to live in or around the property for nearly a month. I made an effort to find her owners and return her to no avail. Eventually, a single mom I had been working as a private tutor for as a side hustle agreed that she would take Shadow. This would only last for a few months. The family had another cat, Karma, whom had been declawed (I abhor this) and two little girls who had no respect for animals (especially cats) because of this. I knew how the oldest handled Karma and my only solace in handing Shadow over was that I knew she wouldn't be hit by a car, would be fed, loved to a degree, and would scratch the shit out of them if they fucked up.

Their mother ended up calling me, giving me money to bring Shadow in to the humane society, saying she was a wonderful cat, just not the best fit for the girls. I could only imagine what Shadow went through at that house, because the time there changed her. The collar I had on her was returned to me snapped in two. It looked like it had been pulled off. I cringed thinking about it and never put another collar back on that cat. At the time, a woman had been busted hoarding 100+ cats that had all been relinquished to the humane society and local rescues. The humane society's solution for most was euthanasia and I wasn't about that for Shadow. Back to my backyard she went.

Eventually, Shadow won over my mother and my father, especially my father, whom you would never think would love that cat so much. When my mother brought Shadow to the vet, we were surprised to find she had a chip in her ear registered to someone on our block. As per protocol, animal control was sent out to investigate. The woman told animal control that she didn't want the cat. All she did was run away. Shadow's real name was Holly, but she was still Shadow to me.

Shadow became the best friend I ever knew. Not a night went by where she wasn't under my covers sharing the pillow with me, laying stretched out on her back or side as the little spoon. If she wasn't in my bed, she would sit at the door to the bedroom, guarding me or in a chair next to me, always watching. I could do no wrong in that cat's eyes. She was the highlight of my day when I got home from every crappy job I had since. A furry coat to soak up the tears shed during long nights of insomnia and depression. An inspiration for my art and spirituality. My familiar and kindred spirit. If I would talk to her, she would respond with chirps and meows like she knew exactly what I was saying. If someone else was in the room giving her attention and I walked in, she would perk up and run toward me like they never existed. Shadow was the second cat that chose me. I have never chosen a cat from a shelter or adoption / rescue facility. This is how I acquired both my childhood furry friend and Shadow.

It all began when I noticed Shadow's fur was sticky and stiff, like she had been sitting in honey. Just the end of her tail at first. She always had this silly habit of sitting in her food tray, so I cleaned it and her and thought nothing of it until the drooling started.

Shadow had always been a drooler, but not to this extent. Drool bubbles would pop from her left lip. One night, when I came home from work before I started my leave to focus on my Etsy shop, I was horrified to find her sitting on the couch with a bloody chin. Now, there wasn't a large amount of blood, but this alarmed me significantly. It was time to see a vet, like, yesterday. Thankfully, my shop sales had been great and I didn't have to fret over the bill- I was ready to pay whatever it was to make her feel better.

The vet confirmed what I knew deep down and didn't want to acknowledge because the thought was just too painful. Cancer. No chance of survival even if I wanted to go through the hell of treatment, which involved removal of the tongue and jaw. I brought Shadow home and cried, hoping for the best -that the antibiotic would work. The vet said she had been wrong before, it could just be an abscess and it would heal. Shadow was still doing cat things. Shadow was still my best friend, she still loved me, she was still trying to cuddle me at night and surrounding me with the reminder of death in the odor of her breath.

Yesterday, I brought Shadow in to be put to sleep. The decision was made when I looked up from making a rune set and saw puddles of blood on the floor, a stream of it from her face as she was sitting in the window sill. I have never felt so heartbroken. Not even at a family member's funeral. I asked to bring her home, burying her under the tree where I buried my last cat and childhood familiar, Elmo. When I saw the standard biohazard bag peeking up through the dirt, I knew that was where she belonged. With her sister. Yesterday, my heart was buried with that cat. Eleven years was not long enough but each one filled with so much love and happiness. I stood with her until the end. The only peace I feel is that I know that she is no longer hurting. I know she knew I loved her.

I miss you Shadow. To those of you who have recently lost your best friend, your familiar or the love of your life, my heart goes out to you. I hope that someone else can read this and share my pain. I understand that there was nothing I could do but love her. Love your pets. Love them as long and as well as you can- nothing is immortal. We accept this when we commit to caring for our (mostly) furry (sometimes scaly or feathery) friends. This doesn't mean that it hurts any less when we lose them.

To my customers, who have been patiently and diligently awaiting orders while Etsy forced hiatus on my shop, preventing sales during this crisis in addition to my sister in law's wedding and me poking my own eye out back and February- you all are really the best turn of luck I've had. You do not know how much I appreciate you allowing me the time to spend these last few precious moments with her. It truly means the world to me and I hope at the end you receive something worth your time and patience. I have not forsaken fulfillment, and orders are still shipping. Unfortunately, I NEED to reopen and accept new orders, as Etsy is demanding payment for $600 worth of shipping labels. My shop is still appearing as in hiatus at the moment, but I ask for all the support my friends, supporters and followers can offer at this time as I essentially will be working for free when I reopen to pay these fees. Great, right?

If you are awaiting refunds, there is literally no money in the account associated with Etsy. However, as the funds become available, I will be processing refunds / cancellations. I'm sorry for the delays, I never thought I would say I found success at the worst possible time. I urge the rest of you- if you have a deadline for your order for the love of goddess TELL ME. I am getting a little frustrated with buyers (who are frustrated with me, understandably, but still, my item descriptions are clear about relaying deadlines) who are upset or complaining about meeting gift deadlines or other deadlines I literally had no idea about. I'm a decent psychic, but not perfect.

~ Samantha

(Owner/Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com)

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theo-ramsay · 7 years

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theo

BASIC STATISTICS

FULL NAME: Mateo Olivier Ramsay NAME ORIGIN: Ask my mom, bruh...oh wait. NAME MEANING: “gift from God” NICKNAMES: Theo, it’s what I go by. Almost no one knows that it’s short for Mateo. NICKNAME ORIGINS: A neighbor, actually. I came home from the hospital and she couldn’t remember my name so she just kept calling me Theo. SEX: Male AGE: 24 BIRTHDAY: March 26th, 1990 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seattle, Washington ETHNICITY/NATIONALITY: Caucasian SEXUALITY: Bi, preference is men. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and definitely mingling. POLITICAL ALLEGIANCE: Liberal CRIMINAL RECORD: I once was hauled in for vandalism when i was but a teenager. spent one night in jail then my mom came and got him

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 6′0″ WEIGHT: 190 lbs EYE COLOR: Blue NEED GLASSES/CONTACTS? Yes HAIR COLOR: Blonde DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Jaw SCARS: I has one on my back from falling on a skateboard and a couple on my arm from a hospital visit after a terrible terrible IV experience. TATTOOS: ‘my oh my’ written on his back in a mariners logo, I has a couple others I’ve designed for Barry and Alex. WHO DOES S/HE TAKE AFTER?: I'd like to think my mom but I got my hair color and jawline from my dad. LEFT OR RIGHT-HANDED?: Right

EVERYDAY BEHAVIORS/HABITS

ADDICTIONS: Erm. Adrenaline maybe. MORNING ROUTINE: I wake up at 5, showers and primps for the day, goes into the shop to assist his baristas during peak, does the order and calls in any mechanical problems AFTERNOON: eats lunch, paperwork mostly and other behind-the-scenes things he has to do for the shop EVENING ROUTINE: gets the evening crew set up, goes home to Barry SLEEP HABITS: I cuddle anything within arm’s reach when I’m sleeping DOES THIS CHARACTER SNORE? surprisingly, no. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS OR SKILLS? I'm an artist over a few mediums but my favorite is definitely visual. painting, spray-paint, shit like that. WHAT IS S/HE PARTICULARLY UNSKILLED AT? Math HOBBIES: I fucking love baseball and i’ll pick up his guitar every now and again when i finds time

LIFE

CURRENT ADDRESS: Manhatten, New York DOES S/HE RENT OR OWN? Rent DOES S/HE LIVE WITH ANYONE? IF SO, WHO? Barry, Alex, Boo BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF HOME: Tiny and packed with everyone’s things, it’s a jungle in there WHAT IS THEIR BEDROOM LIKE? I share one with Barry and the bed takes most of the room. DOES S/HE DRIVE? IF SO, WHAT CAR? i’ve never learned how to drive. SPOUSE/PARTNER: ....Barry CHILDREN: None. WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS/HER CHILD(REN)? N/A PETS: does the toddler count? OCCUPATION: Owner of the Mudhouse which right now kind of feels like a glorified barista JOB SATISFACTION: It’s...very hard owning a small business right now. You gotta want it and god damn it, you gotta work around the clock for it. INCOME: Enough to get by. GENERAL HEALTH: I have diabetes but don’t worry ya’ll, I still have all my toes and shit, PAST HEALTH PROBLEMS, IF ANY: other than problems managing my diabetes when I was younger? not really much.

FAMILY OF ORIGIN

FATHER: Anthony Burke FATHER’S OCCUPATION: Lawyer? Accountant? I dunno man, he wears a suit I think? Whatever, go ask him. MOTHER: Cassidy Burke MOTHER’S OCCUPATION: She was an art teacher. DID THE CHARACTER’S PARENTS RAISE HIM/HER? IF NOT, WHY? My mom raised me. Why? Uh, because my dad’s a coward? ARE THE CHARACTER’S PARENTS STILL TOGETHER? IF NOT, WHY? No, because he’s a dick and she’s dead. DOES THE CHARACTER LIVE WITH HIS/HER PARENTS? No DOES THE CHARACTER HAVE SIBLINGS? No HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR SIBLINGS CHANGED SINCE CHILDHOOD? N/A DESCRIBE HIS/HER FAMILY LIFE AND DYNAMIC WHILE GROWING UP: I remember it being pretty fun but real tough sometimes when money got tight, my mom had me when she was 17 and essentially raised me alone but she never really let me know we were in any trouble when I was really young. I spent a lot of it just kind of running around Seattle causing trouble with neighborhood kids. My dad sometimes would pop in and out if he was feeling guilty about leaving but surprise, he’d always leave again.

THE PAST

HOMETOWN: Seattle, WA DESCRIBE HIS/HER CHILDHOOD: I’d say it was pretty fun. EARLIEST MEMORY: I remember the opening for a news broadcast when I was toddler-age. HAPPIEST MEMORY: Not sure I have one. Not that my life is sad or anything but I think that the best is coming so I don’t wanna commit. SADDEST MEMORY: When my mom died, I would never wish that 48 hours on my worst enemy. MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY: I bought the Mudhouse when I was off my face and I straight-up forgot for like, a week. MOST IMPORTANT EVENT IN THE CHARACTER’S LIFE THAT STILL AFFECTS HIM/HER AND WHY/HOW: Once I was on the plane to Florida after my mom’s funeral, I kinda knew that it was like, the start of a new life. It was a very hard 48 hours. my life in Seattle feels so far away now HOW MUCH SCHOOL DID S/HE ATTEND? DOES S/HE LIKE SCHOOL? I, um, got into NYU’s visual art program but I couldn’t afford it...never considered going back. WHAT IS THE WORST THING THIS CHARACTER HAS EVER DONE? I’d rather not say.

EMOTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral FOUR TEMPERAMENTS: Choleric. SPONTANEOUS OR STRUCTURED? Spontaneous HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER MOST CHANGED FROM YOUTH? A little more focused when it’s time to be and he’s better about being honest about his emotions. HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER REMAINED THE SAME? Still incredibly impulsive and doesn’t always consider consequences. Still kinda reckless.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS

WHO IS HIS/HER BEST FRIEND? Barry and Alex ANY SECRET ATTRACTIONS/CRUSHES: None FIRST CRUSH/ROMANTIC LOVE: Can’t remember CURRENT GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND/SPOUSE: ....BARRY! PEOPLE S/HE DISLIKES: No one, really? I don’t know man, it’s hard holding a grudge. HAS S/HE LOST TOUCH WITH ANYONE SIGNIFICANT IN HIS/HER LIFE? IF SO, WHY? People move, people change. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAS S/HE DATED? DESCRIBE EACH RELATIONSHIP. Okay, FIRST OFF, we’re absolutely not doing this because I would literally be talking all fucking day. I’ve slept around a bit.

SEX/ROMANTIC LIFE

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER TO BE A ROMANTIC DATE? Art gallery showing or a gig. Anytime I open up my art. HOW DOES A NORMAL DATE GO FOR THIS CHARACTER? Normally I just goes with someone to a bar and then fall into bed with them. Not really a dater. HOW WOULD THEY LIKE TO PROPOSE OR BE PROPOSED TO? I’d make a huge fucking deal out of it. I can be a little, as the kids say, dramatic. VIRGIN? hahahahahaha no. DESCRIBE HIS/HER SEX LIFE: Man, the man is non-stop. HOW OFTEN DOES THIS CHARACTER HAVE SEX? Once every couple of days at the absolute least. HOW LONG CAN S/HE GO WITHOUT SEX? Like a week. Or else I get cranky. HOW DOES THIS CHARACTER FEEL EMOTIONALLY AFTER SEX? Normally I try to slip out after sex but most of the time I’m just relaxed. DOES SEX PLAY AN IMPORTANT ROLE IN HIS/HER RELATIONSHIP? Not as much as I thought. TOP OR BOTTOM? Flexible. Most times I’m with dudes I like being a bottom. DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? I find myself being more submissive lately. WHAT WAS HIS/HER FIRST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE? IS IT A POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE MEMORY? It was painfully average. HAVE THEY EVER IMPREGNATED SOMEONE, OR BEEN IMPREGNATED? Not that I...know of. HAVE THEY EVER HAD INTERCOURSE OR A SEXUAL EXPERIENCE WITH THE SEX IN WHICH THEY ARE NOT ATTRACTED? No.

MENTAL ATTITUDES/PERSONAL BELIEFS

MYERS BRIGGS PERSONALITY TYPE: ENFP ANY PSYCHOLOGICAL ISSUES? ENNEAGRAM: #7 - The Enthusiast KNOWN LANGUAGES: English SELF-CONFIDENCE: I’m the hottest piece of ass in any room and I damn well know it. OPTIMIST OR PESSIMIST? Can be a little pessimistic...is there a word for kinda both? EXTROVERT OR INTROVERT? Extrovert. EMOTIONAL OR LOGICAL? Very emotional. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? Impatient. COMPASSIONATE OR SELF-INVOLVED? Self-involved. WHAT DOES S/HE LIKE MOST ABOUT HIM/HERSELF? Confidence. WHAT DOES S/HE LIKE LEAST ABOUT HIM/HERSELF? Recklessness. WHOM DOES S/HE REALLY LOVE BEST? Barry and Alex. WHAT IS HIS/HER GREATEST FEAR? Becoming nothing. CHARACTER’S GREATEST STRENGTH: My confidence and ability to handle situations as they come. CHARACTER’S GREATEST FLAW/WEAKNESS: I’m so all-systems-go and charging forward that I don’t...consider consequences. My recklessness is my worst flaw. SEVEN VIRTUES: Diligence SEVEN SINS: Slut? BIGGEST VULNERABILITY (NONPHYSICAL): It’s very easy to get me to do things if you rile me up enough. BIGGEST REGRET: Ooh, maybe not going to college? BIGGEST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Getting accepted into NYU. WHAT IS/ARE THE CHARACTER’S BIGGEST, DARKEST SECRETS? (He sometimes has suicide ideation and it’s stronger than he’d like to admit) WHO ELSE KNOWS, IF ANYONE? No one. SHORT TERM GOALS: Pay rent. LONG TERM GOALS: Have the Mudhouse survive in the economy and become something to the neighborhood. WHAT EVENT OR OCCURRENCE DOES S/HE MOST DREAD OR FEAR? Losing everything on this stupid coffeehouse. WHAT DOES S/HE ACTIVELY WORK TO GAIN, KEEP, OR PROTECT? That stupid coffeehouse. WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER’S DREAM JOB? I always wanted to be like, a real artist. But this is a cool second. RELIGION: Agnostic DOES THE CHARACTER BELIEVE IN A GOD OR GODDESS? No IS RELIGION OR SPIRITUALITY AN IMPORTANT PART OF THIS CHARACTER’S LIFE? Nah SUPERSTITION: None CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse ASTROLOGICAL ZODIAC: Aries ELEMENT: Fire

LIKES AND DISLIKES

COLOR: Royal blue FOOD: Crab DRINK: Black-eye BOOK: Ha. I don’t read. THEME SONG: I will rock out to that Orange is the New Black song for my entire life. MUSIC GENRE: Alternative PLACE: Seattle PERSON: Barry MOVIE: Trainspotters TV SHOW: Parks and Rec SUBJECT IN SCHOOL: Art ANIMAL: Cat LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Goose WHERE DOES THIS CHARACTER LIKE TO HANG OUT? A blues bar by where we live. WHERE IS THIS CHARACTER’S DREAM PLACE TO LIVE? Moving back to Seattle but only if Barry and Alex can come with. WHAT SORTS OF BOOKS ARE MOST LIKELY TO BE FOUND ON THEIR SHELVES? Ha. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Transit. SEASON: Fall. HOLIDAY: That month between Thanksgiving and Christmas is cool. FLOWER: Erm. Ones that smell nice? POSSESSION: I still have a baseball jersey that belonged to my mom and it’s literally the last thing I have of her.

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boofrp · 7 years

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1 (more coming) I'm a little confused about your situation. I understand that you don't feel comfortable disclosing all the details with people online, although I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you're asking for donations. I realize mental health plays a big part in the reason why you're unwilling to get a job, but... If I were in your shoes, and I was stuck in a toxic environment, I would be doing whatever I could to ensure I was out of that situation.

[CONTINUED] Sure, offering resources for small fees can be helpful, but there are people out there giving them away for free - so how far can that really get you? Eventually, you’re either going to have to put yourself in an uncomfortable situation and do what’s best for you, so you can escape the toxicity, or you’re going to be stuck there forever. Personally, I think it’s time to grow up and realize you’re not going to make a living off of selling resources. I just think it’s very unfair to those of us who are working for our own money, and I believe you’re completely capable of going out and seeking employment. Yes, you have issues - but so does everyone else. There are people who are way worse off than you are, I’m sure. I’m not trying to be rude, but I’ll admit I’m a tad bit suspicious. A piece of me believes you’re just trying to get whatever you can out of the community, as if they owe you something. You’ve been known to lie before, therefore I just can’t trust your story and accusations. Sorry.

i actually wrote a long ass reply to this but because my computer crashed right before i was about to post it, i lost everything and need to start again lmao. ANYWAY. i never once thought that in a community that is branded to be a “safe haven” and an “escape from life” that i would be thrown some bullshit like this at my feet, making me feel anything but safe or comfortable. honestly there are few messages i have received during my time on this account that made my stomach drop to my feet. this includes messages coming straight out and telling me to kill myself - that i can handle.

but something like this, honestly made my stomach drop and i hope you’re happy because when i first read this last night i began gagging/feel nauseous and then had a full blown anxiety attack and breakdown. now i’ve had some sleep and i’m not reacting as badly as i did at first to this message but i’m still shaking and feeling incredibly sick because: fuck you. now i really hate explaining myself and trying to “prove” myself to people that really do not deserve the time of day from me, but i guess i should have expected this because there are some really fucking toxic people in this community. lets get to the fun part, my actual replies to the points made in these horrible messages !!

POINT A: “if i were in your shoes i would be doing anything to get out of your ~toxic~ situation” --- first of all, be fucking thankful you are not in my situation because it SUCKS. it really sucks and experiencing this level of pain on a daily basis whilst trying to remain positive is really fucking hard. and guess what? YOU’RE NOT IN MY SITUATION. therefore you have no right to sit back and play commentator on everything i have said and done. let’s get that straight. now i have fucking tried to get out of here. let me make you a nice fucking list because you probably won’t settle until you have all the information from me.

>>> i have applied for ten jobs in the space of two days, all of which i was qualified for or they offered training for if i wasn’t. all of the answers were the same: we have filled the spot or you’re not what we’re looking for. and i have to admit my resume is pretty fucking lit because of all the things i achieved before my mental health destroyed my life. >>> i have babysat for a woman who years ago traumatized the FUCK out of me one day and i don’t want to go into specifics but it was really hard to put aside the fact that she made me run home in tears to my mum when i was 12 for a stupid reason. >>> i have considered asking my sister if i could move in with her. get this, any other time i wouldn’t even think of it because: a) she lives in a small three bedroom house - by small i mean really fucking small. b) she has a 3 year old daughter and a 1 year old daughter as well as herself and her boyfriend so you can imagine how much space they have already taken up. OH and she’s having another baby so they would be struggling to even fine space for them. c) i know that if i live with her i will only be able to have a suitcase of my possessions and would have to sleep on the floor, yet i still consider it and am close to asking. d) i have practically lived with her for a month and had a complete breakdown at the end because i was treated like a babysitting machine instead of a human and being an introvert, when spending so much time with people i need time for myself to regenerate but because the house was so small and the children wouldn’t leave me alone - i broke down. >>> i have done things to get $5 that i do not want to talk about because i know that if i even told my family i would immediately be disowned and i am not proud at all about what i’ve done to EAT FOOD. JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. >>> and lastly, i’m asking complete strangers for money - something that i have struggled with all my life is asking people for money, even asking my mother for $5 for school when i was younger invoked anxiety. but here i am.

POINT B: “sure you can offer resources for money but how far is that going to get you? people already make them for free” --- do you REALLY think i came into this thinking that selling resources was going to pay my rent? do you REALLY think i’m dumb enough to believe that i could actually live out on my own with just commissions from people online in exchange for pixels that will be meaningless in a few years? HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM? you know what, $5 every now and again isn’t going to pay for my funeral insurance or my wedding in a few years, but $5 NOW is going to buy me a pretty decent fucking meal for once, it’s going to buy me a part of a ticket out of this small town. in the long run, $5 a week is going to add up and its going to HELP. also, there must be a reason more people are taking commissions each day - because there are actually people in this world who are fucking KIND and i like to believe in those people. paying commissions isn’t even buying my resources to me, because i know these people can get it anytime they want for free. no, it’s like a pat on the back or like paying someone a tip. IT’S JUST BEING FUCKING THANKFUL. if i had money i would be tipping my friends all the time. but i don’t.

POINT C: “it’s unfair for those of us who are working for our money” --- i’m,,, sorry. IS MY MENTAL ILLNESS A FUCKING INCONVENIENCE TO YOU? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY HALF OF Y O U R LIFE, MAKING IT ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO EVEN FUNCTION PROPERLY IN THE WORLD? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R RELATIONSHIPS WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING FAMILY? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R FRIENDSHIPS? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS TURN Y O U R CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENTS INTO APPOINTMENTS WITH A PSYCHOLOGIST, ANTIDEPRESSANTS AND FINDING WAYS TO MAKE YOUR SCHOOL LIFE MORE COMFORTABLE SINCE YOU WERE LITERALLY TWO STEPS AWAY FROM KILLING YOURSELF IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U WANT TO KILL YOURSELF MORE TIMES YOU CAN COUNT ON ONE HAND? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U ATTEMPT SUICIDE TWICE BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN SIXTEEN? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS EFFECT Y O U IN YOUR WORKPLACE TO THE POINT WHERE YOU WERE CLOSE TO GRABBING THE NEAREST PLASTIC BAG AT YOUR REGISTER AND PULLING IT OVER YOUR HEAD AND SUFFOCATING YOURSELF? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U BULIMIC AND ANOREXIC? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE IT HARD FOR Y O U TO LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR WITHOUT WANTING TO FUCKING DIE? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R BODY IMAGE? FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

POINT D: “you’re capable for going out and looking for employment” --- please refer to my next answer to another anon who is a fucking dick too.

POINT E: “you’re just trying to get shit out of the community cause you think it owes you something” --- again... FUCK YOU. what the fuck have i done to make you believe i’m that shitty of a person? and if i was trying to scam this community out of money or whatever the fuck you think i’m doing, IT MUST HAVE BEEN THREE FUCKING YEARS IN THE MAKING, BEFORE I EVEN KNEW I COULD MAKE A FEW CENTS USING ADF.LY LINKS. i have lied about things in the past, but things that i a) owned up to and b) were NEVER about my mental health or my living situation. i’mm fucking SURE that if you go through my blog you will find me talking about how fucked i am in life. this isn’t some story that i shit out yesterday for money, for fucks sake. if it seems like i suddenly have all these problems - i’m fucking great at pretending i don’t want to be alive and that i hate myself.

POINT F: “i’m not trying to be rude” --- YES YOU FUCKING ARE. IF YOU WERE NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SELF AWARE OF IT AND PUT YOURSELF ON ANONYMOUS, FOR FUCKS SAKE. IF YOU KNEW THAT THIS WASN’T RUDE, YOU WOULD HAVE COME OFF OFF OF ANONYMOUS, FOR FUCKS SAKE. but of course this isn’t fucking rude it’s just picking away at my life and trying to make it sound like i’m a fucking asshole because i am literally suffering in my own home :~)

you know what? there is no way i can possibly come to a nice conclusion about this message in a sentence or to. so here is all i’m going to say: a) i’M NOT COMING TO YOUR DOORSTEP AND ASKING YOU SPECIFICALLY TO HAND ME OVER $2 SO I CAN BUY DRUGS OR WHATEVER THE FCUCK YOU’RE THINKING and b) YOU DON’T EVEN FUCKING DESERVE AN EXPLANATION FROM ME BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING ASSHOLE. i don’t know what the fuck you want from me. my family is in $7k debt from my mum’s boyfriend’s mum’s funeral a month ago. do you want the fucking death certificate? do you want to see the flowers we got from her funeral insurance? DO YOU WANT A WHOLE FUCKING LIVESTREAM OF HER DEAD BODY BEING LOWERED INTO THE FUCKING GROUND? OH FUCKING HELL, DO YOU WANT TEXTS THAT GO BACK YEARS BETWEEN ME AND MY CLOSEST FRIENDS AND FAMILY OF ME CONSTANTLY TELLING THEM I WISH I WAS FUCKING DEAD? DO YOU WANT ME TO RECORD WHAT I EAT IN A WEEK? DO YOU WANT ME TO RECORD MY MOTHER TELLING ME I’M BEING FAT AND TO STOP EATING? DO YOU WANT ME TO HANG MYSELF IN PUBLIC JUST SO YOU CAN FUCKING SEE HOW SERIOUS THIS IT? i don’t know what the fuck you want from me and what your great plan was when sending these messages, but i hope you’re fucking happy.

#a #if u wanna see me go off then (:#also general trigger warning like if you're sensitive then ?#Anonymous

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