Hi Yes, Please:

This is why I don’t tell 99% people im bisexual

Now there is no step she can take in any direction. She weeps suddenly, stops suddenly, laughs. Sorry! I’m empty. I mean, tired. Today. Inside her chest everything is ablaze.

— Anne Carson, "Poor Houdini" (x)

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

Question for the next part

once i beat the depression and the burnout and the anxiety and the loneliness and the exhaustion and the guilt and the awkwardness and the apathy and the low income and the chronic illness and the impatience and the vulnerability and the creative block and the capitalism and the cruelty THEN you'll see

You can be depressed and not feel sad or blue. Depression can also be a haze of sleepiness, distractedness/obsessiveness cycles, and a twinge of irritability that can be hard to recognize because you might already be a “fiery” person. It can feel like a lazy Sunday that keeps imposing itself for weeks or months.

A bus may have only a couple of passengers, especially at the beginning or end of its route. But let's also take fuel efficiency into account.

ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x (O) GN Reader Apple Cider Donuts

Word count: 1505 Warnings: None. 

Title: ABO (A) Aizawa Shota x (O) GN Reader Apple Cider Donuts

Summary: You find a new addition to the family and go on a grocery run.

(Gif not mine. Credit to owner.) 

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Les sphinx au dictionnaire   -   Francine van Hove

French b.1942-