To anyone who sees this (which I'm pretty sure no one will cause I'm sure no one reads anything from me), no you don't(-_-;)・・・.
I have a job, crazy I know. I work in food service, but it's a comfy one and it's a pretty cool place. And this isn't my first job, I've worked for years before this (been working since I was 12, CHILD LABOR RAAA🦅🦅), however this is my first on the papers job, so shit works differently obviously
Now the MAIN ISSUE that scares me right now is that I'm sick a lot.
I'm type 2 diabetic and unfortunately it's always been an uphill battle with my health (weight, A1c, blood sugar, fucking everything at this point). when you're diabetic and don't have control over your blood sugar or A1c, your immune system suffers. And, well, mine has been suffering for a good minute and it's making me miss work.
Thankfully the people I work with are pretty lax about missed days since scheduling works a bit different with us, but I'm genuinely worried one day I'll get a call that it's too much. And I won't fight it (I'm not good at fighting or advocating for myself) because I agree.
I'm currently sick and worried could you tell
I am the one bringing home money for three people (parents + me), I can't lose this job, it took me so fucking long to even get interviews.
In case anyone finds it helpful because mobility aids are horrifically expensive and inaccessible…
And for those people who have access to mobility devices but might benefit from a second chair they can abuse without risking expensive damage…
Erik Kondo has made a website, Open Source Innovations, that details plans for DIY wheelchairs. These wheelchairs can be made from common materials like wood, plastic, and pvc. They are lightweight and can be custom fit to the user allowing from the same degree of movement you would get from a custom chair. And they are durable and easily repairable. (he has been stress testing his latest design by dropping it down stairs, dropping it out of a car, launching it across a driveway, and throwing it off a deck). Its 12lbs and I think he said its was in the $200 ish range for parts.
He also is working on cheap, open source, accessible designs for beach chairs, off road chairs, motorized attachments (think smart drive), and so on. Plus he skateboards in his wheelchair. Cool dude, helpful info, pass it on.
I'm not a person who needs a mobility device nor relies on one. HOWEVER I do know people who do and their wallets, when their wheelchair is/or gets damaged, are just about ready to pull the plug and their insurance would rather eat a boot than cover the costs sooooo
Reblog to save a person's wallet from having a very short obituary
Ya know what, I know nobody is gonna read this so I'm just gonna talk into the void
warning: this is (not graphic) self-hate and bad spacing
I genuine don't think anyone could love me (at least romantically), and I understand why.
I don't like the way I look, I'm not pretty, handsome or attractive.
I'm genderfluid trans masc (I lean more towards masc and non-binary, but i don't mind being fem), but Im not masc in any of the ways that I wish I was, not in my face or my body figure. Hell, I don't like how my voice doesn't listen to me and goes more high pitch when I desperately want to keep it lower, I try to keep my hair short, but I don't know how to cut hair and I don't really have the money (for haircuts) to keep it short
I'm pretty sure my personality isn't attractive either. I'm not cool, chill, nice, sweet. I'm just me,
These are vain things to not like, I know that, there's more, but I don't know how to explain it without just saying it's self-hate.
Talking about this with friends feels weird, like I'm fishing for validation. And talking about this to close family just feels odd (not that any of them make me feel 'different', I just don't know how to talk about this kinda shit without feeling weird).
I feel like I'm losing my mind, I don't know if I want to be in a relationship or if I'd rather just keep to myself, but even if I did, I don't think anyone could even feel that way towards me.
I don't know if this made me feel any better or if it's just going to stick to me for the rest of my day. I
I kinda hope no one actually reads this, this is embarrassing 😝👌
I remember when the game was first released in 2008 (in French, I dont speak french, but I hyperfixated on the game and nearly cried when the fan translated version came out in 2011), but I remember that I really Really REALLY wanted to play it but I couldn't cause the only computer family had was a family computer that still used dial up cause that's all we had.
BUT NOW I'VE GOT MY OWN SETUP (I don't know SHIT about computers, but I'm slowly learning) and I'm gonna FINALLY PLAY OFF
Don't you guys just love joining a newer fandom or older but very small fandom, me too. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
And don't we all just love when all/most of the fanfics there are currently for said fandom are not really written for everyone other than a kind of specific group, me too.｡:ﾟ(;´w`;)ﾟ:｡
Ok, but fr, no hate (EVER). this isn't new, never has nor will it ever be, but it still HURTS😭😭😭
Also I have like no imagination, so me even attempting to write fanfics is straight dogshit💀
In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.
“Happy birthday, to you,” your teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and classmates finish singing to you.
“Thank you, everyone,” you giggle, happy that everyone did something special for your birthday in the middle of class.
You’re now six-years-old and your Momma’s promised to take you to Little Luigi’s Pizza Place after school, where you’ll get to open your presents from her, as well as eat all the pizza you want and have a cookie pizza for free! You begged her to let you stay home, but she laughed and said that she had to meet her publisher for her upcoming book, but she promised that after she was done, she’d come check you out and the two of you would go celebrate your birthday.
You look up at the clock (good thing it’s digital, because you haven’t learned to read the old clocks yet!) and see that it’s almost time for lunch.
“Come on, Momma,” you mutter to yourself. “Get here, already.”
Seriously, you didn’t plan to eat lunch, so you didn’t bother packing lunch today!
Just then, the intercom above the door chimes.
“Mrs. Palmer,” the school secretary asks.
“Yes?”
“Can you please send Y/N Gould to the office, please? There’s someone here to see him.”
“Yes,” you cheer, making a few in the class laugh.
“Of course,” she responds before the device clicks off.
You grab your backpack and toss it over your back before rushing towards the door.
“Bye, Y/N,” one classmate says as you pass her.
“Happy birthday,” another says as you near the door.
“Enjoy your birthday, Y/N,” Mrs. Palmer says, her usual bright smile on her face. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Remember to have your worksheet done.”
And with that, you leave the room and skip down the hall to the main office, happy that your school is small so you don’t have to walk far. As you do, all you can think about is all the pizza you’re about to eat! And the chocolate chip cookie pizza that you get after that! And don’t forget about the presents! Maybe you’ll get the new Pokémon Platinum game for your DS, or a new stuffed animal, or maybe a new movie!
The suspense is practically tearing you apart and you enter the office, ready to greet your Momma when you see… Sheriff Foley. And he looks… sad. You look to the secretary, who’s standing behind him, and she has the same sad look.
“Y/N,” he says.
“Sheriff Foley,” you say, looking around to find Momma, but not finding her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Momma?”
“Son,” he says as the secretary begins to cry a bit. “I have some bad news.”
You feel a weird feeling in your stomach, like when you eat a bunch of ice cream and get sick, but this feeling is worse than that.
“What?”
“It’s about your momma. I got a call from the police in Vegas and they said there had been a car accident. Some drunk fool leaving a casino hit your mother’s car.”
You feel your heart stop at the words “hit” and “mother.”
“Is she ok,” you manage to say. “She’s at the hospital, right?”
The secretary’s crying becomes louder.
“I’m sorry, son,” he says, a tear falling from his eye. “He was going too fast when he hit her. She’s gone.”
“Gone? Like missing?” Now, you’re crying. “Why can’t they find her?”
“No, gone as in she’s no longer with us.”
“Like… she’s gone to heaven,” you whisper.
He nods and it’s then you feel your entire world collapse. You remember what Momma said about going to heaven when you saw a squirrel asleep on the side of the road. She’d said that he had gone to heaven after falling asleep and that he wouldn’t be waking up again. That he’d always be there.
“No,” you cry, tears and snot falling from your face. “No, she can’t be in heaven! She said she’d be here!”
Sheriff Foley takes you into his arms as you cry.
The next few days go by in a blur. You stay with Sheriff Foley and his wife until the funeral. Unfortunately, the accident was so bad that the casket had to stay closed, so you weren’t able to see her one last time before she’s put in her grave. The whole town of Goodsprings is there; she was an author writing best-selling romance novels set during the Age of Sail and a pillar of the community, so everyone wanted to be there to say their final goodbyes to her and their condolences to you.
You said nothing during the whole thing. You hadn’t said anything since Sheriff Foley told you that Momma had gone to heaven and that she wouldn’t be back. The only noise to leave you is the sound of crying.
“Y/N,” he says as you watch the grave be filled with dirt. “When we leave, we’ll have to go by your house. You need to pack anything you need.”
“Why,” you ask, your voice sore from crying for days.
“Because a man is waiting there for you and when you have everything you need, he’ll take you to McCarran Airport. From there, you’ll go to Gotham City in New Jersey.”
You couldn’t believe your ears, first you lose Momma and now you’re losing your home?
“Why do I have to leave,” you say, tears streaming down your face.
“Because the county did some checking and found your father through a DNA test.”
You freeze at that. Your Daddy?
“Momma, do I have a Daddy,” you asked her once.
“You do, baby, but he doesn’t know about you,” she answered. “We met years ago, back when Momma was young and dumb. When I found out I was having you, I couldn’t find him. That’s when I realized I had to act right.” She rubbed her hand through your hair. “It’s thanks to you that I’m not like that anymore.”
That conversation goes through your head as you ride back to your house. You’re actually going to meet your Daddy? When you pull up to your house you see a fancy car sitting in the driveway and an elderly man in a suit standing next to it, watching you as you get out.
“I’m sorry, who’re you,” Sheriff Foley asks.
“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man says, bowing a little. “Butler to the Wayne Family. I apologize, Sheriff, but I’m afraid Master Bruce was unable to get away. Urgent business at Wayne Enterprises demanded his attention.”
“More urgent than his son?”
You can see the butler slightly flinch at that, despite how good he tries to hide it.
“I understand your frustration. I expressed the same sentiments, but Master Bruce couldn’t be persuaded to leave the matter to Mr. Fox.” He looks down at you. “I trust this is young Master Y/N?”
You can’t help but duck behind the sheriff’s legs to hide from him.
“Yeah, this is him.”
“I’m glad to meet you, though I wish it was under more joyous circumstances. You have my most sincere condolences for your loss.”
“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the ground.
“Come on, son, let’s get all your stuff packed.”
The three of you spend the next hour packing all your toys and clothes into cardboard boxes. When asked about your bed, dresser, and other larger things, Alfred said a room had already been prepared for you with a king sized bed and a dresser with room for all your clothes and more.
“Should you require anything else, I will ensure Master Bruce provides it.”
“What will happen to the house,” you finally ask Sheriff Foley, afraid for what he would say.
“Your momma already paid off her house and her will said that everything that’s hers goes to you. For now, the county will care for it until you turn eighteen, which is when you can inherit it.”
Hearing that should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t because you’d have to wait so long to come back and even then, Momma still wouldn’t be here. As the two adults packed up the last of the boxes in the fancy rental car, you slipped away into your Momma’s office at the back of the first story. You slide open the doors, expecting to see her at her desk, working on her latest story like you’d done so many times before, but this time, an empty room and silence greets you.
You enter her office and hop into the big revolving chair, her favorite perfume still lingering from the morning of your birthday. You look at the desk and find something that takes your breath away: her favorite gold ink pen. One day, you’d asked her why your last name was Gould and she’d told you that your family came from a long line of goldsmiths who once made jewelry and other small things for rich people. Momma’s Daddy still worked with metal, even after the family practice was shut down, and when she said she was going to become a writer, he made her a gold ink pen to bring her good luck. You pick it up, looking at the beautiful design, and begin to tear up.
She carried it everywhere she went, so seeing it here cements the fact that she’s not coming back. Maybe if she wasn’t in a big hurry that morning, she would’ve remembered to take it with her and the accident never would’ve happened. And she’d still be here with you.
“Y/N,” the Sheriff says as he enters the office. “We finished packing everything. Are you ready to go?”
You want to say no and refuse to leave, but you know that you can’t stay here. You quietly pocket the pen and follow him to the car, where Alfred waits for you.
“Alright, son, be good for Mr. Pennyworth here. Do what he says and be a good boy like your momma taught you.” He gives you a hug and you wish it would never end, because then you’d never have to leave your home. “You’ll be back before you know it, and your home will be here waiting for you.”
A with that, you get into the car with Mr. Pennyworth and begin the drive to the airport. You use the mirror to see your house one last time, seeing it get smaller and smaller until it’s out of sight.
“I know this is sudden after the loss of your mother, but I promise Master Bruce and I will do everything we can to make Wayne Manor a home for you.”
“What’s it like?”
“The manor? It’s a large estate with a long and storied history that dates back to the early days of Gotham. There’s plenty of rooms for you to explore.”
“And what about my Daddy? What’s he like?”
“Master Bruce is a skilled businessman and one of Gotham’s biggest socialites. He’s also the adoptive father of Masters Dick and Jason.”
“He already has kids? Would they be my brothers?”
You’d heard of several of your classmates having older and younger siblings and had thought about having a brother or a sister. What would it be like to carry around someone younger than you or be care for by someone older than you.
“Master Dick would be your older brother, but he’s now living at the manor right now. He’s off finding himself right now, but I have no doubt that he’ll be back one day.”
“What about Jason?”
Mr. Pennyworth frowns at your words and you feel afraid that you’ve said something wrong.
“Master Jason would be your older brother, as well, but he was taken from us. With any luck, he and your mother have met one another.”
Oh…
“When did he go to heaven?”
“He left us a few months ago, but it feels just like yesterday.”
And with that, the talk is over. You two arrive at the airport and after the butler returns the rental car, he guides you to the gate where a private jet awaits the two of you. You can’t help but be amazed that you’re riding in a private jet that looks so much better than the ones you’ve seen on tv. You sit in one of the seats and it’s way softer than your bed.
“Master Y/N, we’re getting ready for takeoff,” the butler says as he puts his seatbelt on. “Put your seatbelt on.”
You do as you’re told and before you know it, you feel the jet begin to move. You hurry to look out the window to see everything moving past before the jet begins to fly. You stare out the window, watching Nevada, the state you’ve called home, get smaller and smaller until you’re above the clouds, unable to see anything, even the massive buildings of the Strip, which could be seen for miles.
It’s then you realize that this is real, that you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known and won’t be back for years and tears begin to fall from your face. You’ve spent the last few days crying so much that you’d think that you’d think that you would run out of tears, but apparently not. Not wanting to disturb Mr. Pennyworth, you face the window and bite your lower lip to stop making noises.
Somehow the flight seemed to be both long lasting and not long enough, because eventually, you saw a city show up below you. You squint your eyes to get a better look through the smog and see many tall buildings, all of the having those scary stone creatures you saw on a movie once.
“Welcome to Gotham City, Master Y/N.”
A/N: I’m hoping to make this a series that sees somewhat regular updates, but don’t quote me on that. I’ve been getting back into Resident Evil and I look up Yandere Batfamily stuff on this site so much it’s not even funny. Sorry if the first chapter was so long, but I thought if the first chapter was long enough, people would forgive me if future chapters are a bit lacking. Also, this series is heavily influenced by several of my favorite users, like @acid-ixx , @gotham-daydreams , @luludeluluramblings , and @darkstaria . You should totally check them all out.
