#I also Know it wouldn’t be as bad if it wasn’t all interwoven with anxiety. but anixey is very deeply interwoven with how my brain works

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[lavender-rebellion]

TRoE Chapter 2 Cover Me

AO3

Masterpost

When Virgil awoke his brain stuttered and halted, a persistent feeling at the back of his mind that he had forgotten something very important. It wasn’t a new feeling, his own anxiety gave him that feeling often, but it was never so heavy and pressing before. There was a heat across his back and around his middle, and sunbeams hit his face with warmth and unwelcome light. This wasn’t his room, that much was clear.

He blinked open his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar wallpaper, and the tan curtains, brow furrowing with confusion. It wasn’t until he spotted a sock-clad foot on the ground that he understood. Yesterday came back with such a force it gave him a headache, the panic that had choked him last night threatening to swallow him once more. He went through his breathing exercises absentmindedly and searched for a clock, finding a digital one on the nightstand next to his face. The green numbers read 7:08 am, the early hour surprising him. He rarely got up before 9, when Patton insisted he woke for family breakfast.

Said man was the cause of the heat he felt, his limbs splayed over Virgil, spooning him like an aggressive sea-creature. A huff of laughter escaped him, fondness momentarily overtaking anxiety and allowing him to get the strength to de-tangle himself from both the blankets and his best friend. He sat up, blowing his purple bangs from his face and taking a minute to stretch. He felt well-rested, apparently, he was drained enough last night that it beat out his insomnia. He stood, his hoodie falling over the plaid boxers he was borrowing, and padded barefoot across the floor. He stepped over Roman, laying starfished on his makeshift bed, drool wetting the pillow cushioning his head, and around Logan, who slept neatly on his back. He spared a moment to snicker at the way Logan’s borrowed pajamas fell above his knee before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He crept quietly down the stairs, pausing in his spot for a second and squeezing his eyes shut at the tightness in his throat, and into the kitchen. Virgil tugged his sleeves up from where they covered his hands, opened up a couple of cupboards before finding the coffee grounds, and set to making himself a pot. The bubbling of the machine was soothing in the stillness of the house, and he reached up and rubbed at the center of his chest. He felt hollowed out, the space that usually housed the warm connections tying him to Thomas and the others now empty. A deep sadness wells up inside him, but he’s too worn out to panic or cry. He had done enough of that yesterday. Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee and hopped up onto the counter, pulling his legs up and crossing them criss-cross, bare feet tucked under him. He smelled the coffee and let it steady him, and for the next long while allowed himself to think of absolutely nothing while he drank.

By the time Thomas stumbled in, bleary-eyed and rumpled, his cup was halfway empty. He wanted to make fun of the mess of bedhead Thomas was sporting, but knew his own dyed waves were likely a fright. So he just took another sip and watched quietly as Thomas poured himself a cup as well. Thomas, who had startled minutely at the sight of him walking in, looked tired and drained and unsure what to do with himself. Virgil recognized the look well, and it’s what made him speak up.

“Why don’t you come sit with me?” He offered, inching to the left a bit to make room. Thomas looked up at him, baffled.

“On the counter?”

“I think, out of all days, this is one to not worry about what is and isn’t a chair.” Thomas’ lips quirked at the memory, and he set his cup down to climb up as well (much less smoothly, but Virgil didn’t laugh, consider it his nice act of the day).

There was a second where neither say anything, just waking up and adjusting to the weirdness of doing so around each other, but eventually, Virgil couldn’t help himself from asking the question on the tip of his tongue.

“What did you do last night? After you left us?”

Thomas shot him a confused look. “Nothing really, why?”

He bit back the frustrated noise he wanted to make, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. “No, I mean…” He trailed off to collect his thoughts. Thomas didn’t rush him.

“Up until less than 24 hours ago, I knew everything you did. I was with you every waking moment, and what I did miss I could find in your memories. Not knowing what you did, not having the means to find out, it’s uncomfortable and foreign. For 30 years we were one, and it’s going to take time for me to adjust to being separated.” He met Thomas’ eyes, gripping his mug tighter. “So please, humor me.”

Thomas nodded, something akin to understanding in his eyes but they both know he didn’t really get it. The sides had been separated people, in his mind, whereas for them it was hard to discern where they ended and Thomas began. They were him and themselves, overlapping and interwoven and mirrored.

But he began to talk, and that’s what mattered in the end. “I went downstairs and spoke to Joan, thanking them for coming over because we couldn’t have calmed down and figured anything out without them. Then I asked them to spend the night and we went to bed. When I woke up half an hour ago they were still asleep.” A pause. “I had a moment of panic, waking up and seeing them, knowing it wasn’t a dream. But I knew that if I allowed myself to wallow in the negative I wouldn’t be able to figure anything out today.” He admitted, and there was more quiet. Virgil hopped down and poured himself another cup, letting the warmth soak into his hands.

“Why do you look like that?” Thomas blurted out, before backtracking. “I don’t mean anything bad by it, and I know it’s probably rude to ask, it’s just that you’re small and slim, and it seems like an odd choice for you..was it a choice? Do you get to choose how you look? I know you can shapeshift but-”

“It’s kinda a choice, but it’s also kinda not.” Virgil interrupted his rambling. “It’s not like I’m a midget or anything, I’m 5’6 thank-you-very-much, but a lot of being small is convenient. Like being able to fit in small spaces to hide, or being able to maneuver a crowd fairly easily. Part of it is also because, as a person, you prefer flight to fight. Being compact means I’m more aerodynamic, and I’m pretty fast.” He shrugged, adding, “Plus, I just like being shorter. It can be difficult at times, and I have to put more effort into being intimidating, but I’ve always preferred being my height to being yours.”

Thomas nodded along to the explanation, another look of understanding on his face. Virgil wasn’t upset at the question, though it was funny to watch Thomas trip over himself in asking it. (It was also nice of him to worry about phrasing it right, but Virgil ignored the sappy thought.) It was clear Thomas had more to ask, so Virgil drank and waited for him to ask.

“But beyond your height, you don’t look like me. In fact, you actually look a little like Talyn.”

Virgil chuckled, a slight flush coming to his cheeks. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers over his rounder jaw and pointier chin, his more delicate features, and under his rounder, larger eyes. His lashes tickled the pads of his finger. He opened his mouth to explain. “That’s because when you met them, I saw a lot of myself in them. We’re both short, and edgy, and awkward. But Talyn was also independent, and confident, and intimidating. I thought that was cool as hell , and I looked up to them. Over time my features gradually shifted to reflect that, and reflect them. Just like Roman always has looked up to Disney princes and his features shifted, and Patton looked up to dads. You’re dad, specifically, but some TV ones too.”

“But Logan still looks the same, mostly.”

Virgil grinned, amused, and darted his eyes around to make sure they were alone. He leaned into Thomas. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Logan actually looks up to you . Yeah, he thinks you’re a little ridiculous and childish, but you’re also loose, and fun, and you take risks to achieve your own happiness. Logan respects that, admires it.”

Thomas looked surprised and awed, his eyes soft and his smile softer. Virgil mirrored it. Conversation over, they lapsed back into silence again until Thomas grinned mischievously. Virgil, stiffened, wary.

“So, I’m assuming Patton has freckles because of Dad, right?”

“Yes..?”

Thomas looked at him from the corner of his eye, a shit-eating grin on his face. “So you have freckles because….”

“Hey remember that time in third grade when that new kid moved to your school, and you called out to him to ask him to sit by you during lunch and it turned out it was his twin and everyone looked at you like you were stupid?” Virgil interrupted, fakely cheerful. He ignored the pink rising in his faintly-freckled cheers, and avoided Thomas’s eyes. Thomas groaned and buried his face in his hands. Retribution, bitch.

“Now now, it’s a little early to be bringing up those kinds of memories, kiddo.” Patton bounded in, bright-eyed and chipper. His flannel pants reminded Virgil of the set Patton wore at home, and something panged in his chest. He drank more coffee and ignored it. He quietly mumbled that Thomas had started it, but Patton was already buried in the cupboards.

“Oh, I hope you have stuff for pancakes, Thomas, because after that pizza last night I am really looking forward to finding out how good they taste!”

“You couldn’t taste things before?”

Virgil took a long sip from his cooling cup, content to sit this one out. Hey, he did the last explanation. Patton’s face scrunched up in thought, pausing in his ingredient preparation. Thomas, apparently, did not have stuff for pancakes, judging by the eggs and bacon slices on the counter.

“Well, we could taste. But everything was dulled, all of our senses were. It’s like..” Bacon hit the pan and started sizzling like crazy, “Everything we experienced was based on things you had. They were memories. So when we ate, we tasted the memory of food you had eaten before.”

“Eat a memory?”

“Yeah! If you think right now, you can remember how bacon tastes right?” Patton waved the spatula at the pan for emphasis. “But when you remember it you only get the impression. Or if you think about how something felt and your fingers tingle with the ghost of the touch. It isn’t solid. The only thing we really got fully was sound, and even then it lacked the richness of real life, background noises or how things echoed didn’t register in your memory so we didn’t get them.”

“Real life is very overwhelming.” Virgil agreed, thinking of all the noises he could hear right now like the house settling, his blood moving, even the sound of quiet. But tasting the tartness of coffee he could admit it had its perks.

“But it’s full and vibrant as well!” Patton said cheerfully.

Thomas snapped his fingers suddenly, startling Virgil. Not that he’d ever admit that in a thousand years. “Like Spiderman! When he gets his spidey-senses and everything is dialed up to 11!”

“Exactly!” Patton enthused, before looking over their shoulders and beaming. “Good morning, Logan!”

Virgil turned to watch a tired Logan slip in and make a beeline for the coffee pot, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of his slightly messy bedhead. Maybe he should get that checked out.

“Morning, stretch,” Virgil whispered as Logan passed by him. Logan rolled his eyes and he hid his grin in his coffee.

“So, Logan,” Thomas began, and Logan gave a tired hum as he poured himself a cup. “I noticed that you’re a couple inches taller than me. Why is that?”

Roman appeared behind them, looking like he’d already brushed his hair, and came up behind Patton. He reached around the taller man and snatched a piece of bacon from the plate they were cooling on, grinning around his stollen treat while Patton scolded him. Logan moved and sat at the table, adjusting his glasses.

“You see, as your knowledge grew, so did I. And as the rate of new information slowed, so did my height, until it stagnated around the time of college. Thankfully, as I do not desire to be any taller than I already am.”

“Logan was always the tallest growing up since I had the same growth spurts as you and Virgil has always been a bit fun-sized.” Alright Patton, thanks for bringing up his height again. He really didn’t need to deal with Roman’s wise-cracks this early.

“I haven’t grown since high school!” Roman complained, tossing himself down in the chair across from Logan. “It makes no sense! You’ve certainly grown creatively since then!”

Patton set the plate full of eggs and bacon down in the center of the table, ruffling Roman’s hair playfully. “Maybe it’s your ‘allergy’ to greens. I always warned you..”

Roman swatted at his hand, scowling, but Patton’s laughter caused his lip to twitch upwards. Gross, Virgil thought, raising an eyebrow. Patton called his name and he turned to look.

“Set the table, would you, bud?” Virgil nodded, setting down his cup of cooling coffee, hopping off the counter, and setting to his task. He maneuvered around Joan, who had finally slunk into the kitchen mid-yawn.

“Morning.” He said quietly. Joan just blinked at him, apparently not awake yet. They all sit down at the kitchen table, serving themselves quietly. Patton noticed Joan not taking any food, and looked concerned.

“Do you not like eggs or bacon?”

Joan looked awkward, “I’m actually a vegan.” Patton’s eyes widened, and he gently smacked himself in the forehead.

“Of course, how silly of me! I’m sorry, kiddo, let me find you something. I think I saw some fruit…” He trailed off.

“You don’t have to do that, I can get it myself.” They protested, but Patton shook them off.

“What are dad’s for?”

Joan looked a little bewildered as Patton bustled around. Virgil didn’t blame him, Joan rarely talked to the sides, even during shooting, and Patton’s brand of.. everything, took some getting used to. This must be just as strange for them as it was for the sides. A bowl of scrounged up fruit was placed in the center of the table, a little sad since Thomas lacked groceries. The guy never did take to cooking, beyond those Hello Fresh meals.

Virgil dug into his breakfast, listening to the sounds of forks against plates as there was quiet once more. His heart panged, this was usually the time that Patton chattered about everyone’s plans for the day, and Logan would fill them in on Thomas’s scheduled from his little planner. But instead, there was silence, because the future was unknown and terrifying. Without conversation, they all finished fairly quickly, and Patton immediately threw himself in gathering plates and starting the dishes. Roman hopped up to help, as none of them liked to let Patton do the chores by himself. He already did so much. Right now though, Virgil was willing to bet it was a comfort to Patton. Even with the newness of their senses, dishes were a constant.

“I guess its time to talk, then.” Thomas started, reluctant. Virgil was too, picking at the sleeves of his hoodie anxiously. “Going off of the idea that this is all permanent, there are several issues that are going to become a problem. Funds, for example, space, the fact that you don’t have papers, explanations, videos…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. He looked rough around the edges.“If this does prove permanent you’ll eventually have to get jobs.”

Logan interrupted. “That wouldn’t be wise, not for a couple of weeks. In case this is temporary.”

Okay, sure, but they are ignoring a very important fact. “We can’t get jobs, we don’t have any legal papers. And we don’t have any, because until yesterday night we were manifestations, the voices in Thomas’s head.” He stresses, gripping his sleeve tight and leaning forward.

“I know a guy.” Joan piped up, and everyone looked at them. “I mean, I know of a guy. Who can make nearly perfect records.”

Patton went white as he sat back down, cheerfulness dying into a sober seriousness. “That’s incredibly illegal.” And well, morality has a point. Roman doesn’t seem to think so, however.

“What other choice do we have? As of right now, we are very illegal.” He argued.

“We still don’t have the money that’s going to require,” Virgil mentioned.

“It is going to take quite the amount of papers to fake 28 years of four people.” Logan pondered, staring at the table. Virgil tensed, because oh my god that was a good point.

“I’ll find a way to get the money, okay? Don’t worry about it.” Thomas interrupted sharply, tense and frustrated. He turned to Joan, “Can you please get in contact with the guy for me, and if this situation hasn’t changed by next week I’ll place the order.”

Joan agreed, quiet, sensing that Thomas was stressed to his limit. Everyone else stayed silent, and they moved on.

“You guys are going to have to share the spare room, because I really can’t afford to move on top of everything, and it’s too dangerous to have you stay anywhere else.” He ran a hand through his hair. “As for other necessities, food is probably going to get tight for a while but we’ll have to make do. And clothes..”

“I can look through my stuff for anything I don’t need, it probably would only fit Roman and maybe Virgil, though. I’ll ask Talyn to do the same.” Joan offered, and Thomas sent them a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Joan. The clothes we had on will likely be fine for a while, but eventually, they will wear out, and we obviously can’t afford to do laundry every day.” Logan uncrossed his arms and took a drink from his mug, the coffee likely cold by now. Joan blinked and a look of realization passed over their face.

“Wait, what else did you have on you?” They asked, and all four of the sides straighten.

“I had my sword. It crossed over as well, it’s laying on the floor upstairs.”

“I know I had my phone and my headphones. As well as a dumb sketch of Princey falling off a cliff, but that’s hardly important.” Virgil added, grinning at the offended noise Roman made. “It was from that fight we had two weeks ago, I just never took it out of my hoodie.” He added, shrugging unapologetically.

“I also have my phone!” Patton added, and Logan squinted at him.

“You have a phone?”

“Yeah, for cat videos!” Patton said cheerfully, before saying as an afterthought, “And a ton of pictures of us, since what kind of dad doesn’t have pictures of their family?”

“Yes, well,” Logan said slowly, before his brain seemed to reboot. “I have my planner and pen, likely the most useful since it holds Thomas’ schedule in it.”

“Do the phones work?” Thomas asked, while Joan stood and ducked into the living room. Virgil shrugged, he hadn’t even thought to turn his on after the calamity last night.

Patton didn’t know either. “Let me go get them and we’ll check.”

Joan came back just as Patton left, holding the stupid necklace that got them into the whole mess. Virgil reeled back, flinching, and he wasn’t alone. Both Roman and Logan did as well, wary. Joan gave them an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I just don’t think it’s a good idea to throw it out. It could be important to what’s happening.”

“I suggest we smash it! Perhaps that will break the curse that has trapped us here!” Roman declared, but Logan shook his head.

“Or it could trap us here permanently. Joan is correct, the wisest course of action is to keep it safe until we understand more.”

Thomas nodded, taking the necklace gently as if it was going to bite him, and leaving for his room. Patton popped back in then, tossing Virgil his phone. Virgil swore, fumbling for it and letting out a huff of relief when he managed to catch it. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if it broke. Patton winced, sorry, and they both turned their phones on. The start-up screen booted up, a logo colorfully splashed in bright lights before dimming down into his familiar lock screen. A weight slipped off his shoulders and he slumped back into his chair. From the look of relief on Patton’s face, his worked as well.

Virgil tapped around in his apps, checking to see if everything still worked. They did, however, he found to his dismay that his Tumblr account no longer existed. Damn it. He was in the process of creating a new one when a call lit up his screen, his eyebrow raising when he saw it was Patton. He didn’t know how his number got into his phone, he doesn’t remember putting it in. Virgil answered the call and they found that sound correctly traveled through, so it was likely that the phones were fully functioning. As they hung up Thomas reappeared, pleased to see the phones still worked.

“You should put Joan and I’s phone number in, for emergencies. As for you two,” He pointed at Roman and Logan, “I won’t be able to get either of you a phone for a while, but you’re free to use my laptop if you need it.”

There was no warning about going through it, which was fair. It wasn’t like Thomas had any secrets they didn’t know about. Or anything at all, up until last night.

“I hate to interrupt, but I have work soon so I think we should talk about cover stories. People are going to have questions, and we’ll need them for the documents anyway.”

The good mood deflated, and they all sat back down around the table. A few ideas were thrown around but they were just as quickly shot down, and Virgil opted to stay quiet. Eventually, Thomas seemed to think of something.

“It would be easiest to pass Logan off as my brother.” He shook his head though, seconds later, looking disheartened. “But my real family would have questions.”

“Don’t your parents know about your ability?” Joan asked.

“They do, but while they would go along with it my extended family would still want answers. Not to mention everyone who knew me growing up would know that I was an only child.”

“Would it be possible to say I went to live with other family, or perhaps been put up for adoption?” Logan inquired, and Thomas looked deep in thought.

“My parents would never put a kid up, and everyone knows it.” He paused, “But I did go stay with my Uncle Roy when I was a teenager, right around when I was just figuring out my abilities! He’s aware of vaguely what I can do.”

“He’s doesn’t speak to your extended family, either. Just your parents.” Virgil tossed in, sitting up a little.

“Exactly! It totally could have been possible that he raised a kid with no one's knowledge!”

“There was that K-12 science school near his place, perhaps I expressed an interest at a young age and I went to stay with him to avoid the family moving,” Logan added, and Thomas beamed. There were still some holes in the story, but nothing incredibly suspicious. It seemed like it would work.

“I’ll call up my parents and Uncle Roy later, see if they’ll go along with it.”

“They might not, Thomas. This is still incredibly illegal.” Virgil reminded him, but Joan spoke up.

“Then we’ll think of something else.”

“Perhaps I could have been Logan’s best friend? That way I’ll have a link to you. Now, I can’t claim to go to the nerd school but maybe I was a neighbor?” Roman asked excitedly.

Joan looked skeptical, shooting a look between them. “Would that be believable?”

Roman waved him off, rolling his eyes. “Calculator watch and I are friends, even if our friendship seems a bit odd on the outside.”

It was agreed upon, and then there was more quiet. Virgil worried his lip when it became clear they couldn’t come up with the last two stories. There were a couple of attempts, to no avail. It would be way too suspicious if they all had stories connected to Logan.

Eventually, Joan had to leave, and Thomas got up to make those phone calls. Virgil could hear snippets of awkward explanations and decided he’d rather not listen to that. Instead, he stood up, addressing the others.

“I’m going to get ready for the day, my legs are cold.” It was silently decided that the others felt the same, and all four trudged up the stairs, taking turns in getting dressed and tidying up in the bathroom. Virgil managed to get paired up with Logan for teeth brushing, and he steadfastly ignored the rising blush on his cheeks every time their shoulders bumped into each other. He booked it out of the cramped bathroom as soon as he was done, opting to brush his hair later.

Then, they all huddled up on the couch together, Roman flipping on the tv and selecting a random channel with cartoons. Thomas was still talking to his mom in the hallway.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell them. Thank you so much, I love you. Buh-bye.”

Oh good, it sounded like they were going to help. At least something was going their way. A loud series of bangs on the door made him reconsider. Shit, it was probably the government. A neighbor saw or heard, or maybe Virgil’s suspicion that the phones were bugged was right and they heard all about them and now they were going to be experimented on in Area 51 and-

Thomas opened the door and Talyn barged in, looking angry. It was a scary sight, but it cut through Virgil’s panic like a knife and he became aware of a hand in his own, being squeezed tightly. He flushed, glancing at Logan out of the corner of his eye and gently taking his hand back. Logan gave him an understanding smile and that did not help his breathing thankyouverymuch.

“I can’t believe something this major happened and I don’t even get a text! How could you keep me out of the loop on this, Sanders?” Talyn complained, glaring at Thomas, who put his hands up in surrender, before storming over and standing in front of them, arms crossed. And just staring.

Patton beamed up at them, looking delighted, while Roman gave a small wave and Logan fidgeted with his glasses. Virgil just lazily blinked when they looked him in the eye, knowing not to show fear.

“You look like me.” They accused, and he smirked.

“Maybe you look like me.” They just cocked an eyebrow.

“One of us can shapeshift and it isn’t me, so it’s definitely the first one.” They argued, he just shrugged, conceding easily but not offering up anything further.

“Hiya, there! It’s good to see you again!” Patton cut in, offering his hand. Talyn shook it, looking a little dazed at the touch, but came back to their senses quickly and turned back to Thomas.

“Is it permanent?” They asked. Thomas shrugged.

“We don’t know, but we’re assuming it is.”

“What are the cover stories?”

“I am Thomas’ brother, who went to live with our Uncle at a very young age to attend a special science academy,” Logan explained, and Roman tossed an arm over his shoulders, much to his displeasure.

“And I am his childhood best friend.” He declared proudly. Talyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, and Logan shoved Roman off of him.

“Anything for Dad or Grumpy?”

“No. We can’t think of anything.” Thomas admitted, and they seemed to think for a moment, before nodding.

“We can say Virgil is related to me,” Talyn said firmly, surprising them all.

“Will your parents and family really go along with that?” Roman asked.

“It’s just me and my mom, and my mom is a big advocate for human rights. We’ll just say you escaped something bad, like….human trafficking. She’ll agree, no questions asked.”

“That’s great!” Thomas enthused, but Talyn held up a hand, stopping him.

“But she’s going to want to meet you immediately.” They insisted, and they all tensed up.

“Right this second?” Patton asked, startled. Talyn nodded, and they all shared glances between them. Virgil wasn’t really comfortable leaving the house or the others, and it seemed like they all shared that sentiment. But what could they do? He needed this cover story. So he gave a jerky nod and stood up, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Lead the way.” He faked nonchalance and hovered in the background as Talyn scolded Thomas once more before heading to the door. He gave a half-hearted wave to the others before closing the door behind him.

Outdoors was...a lot. The sun was really bright, to begin with, and it was hot. Despite the lack of people on the street, it was loud, and he could hear distant laughter and car horns. He paused right outside of the door and breathed it all in, noticing with surprise that he could smell the air. He didn’t know how to describe it, however, so his brain moved on, noticing the vibrancy of the colors.

“Odd?” Talyn asked, paused a few steps ahead with their car keys in hand. Virgil snorted.

“Let's just say I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” He said dryly, following them as they started moving toward the car again. Virgil had never been in a car before, not as him instead of Thomas.

“Have you never been outside before, Dorthy?” Talyn joked but was startled when Virgil shook his head.

“No. The Mind Space took the shape of wherever Thomas lived, but if you opened the door you just ended up in the Subconscious.” He explained, opening the door and sliding in. It was surprisingly comfortable. Talyn started up the car, looking fascinated.

“The Subconscious? What was that like?”

“White. It was endless nothingness, filled with things that we weren’t able to be, well, conscious of. But the longer we’re in there, the more things we can see, you’d really have to watch your thoughts then because the Subconscious took things literally. And the more we could see, the less you could see us. If you stayed there too long, you’d cease to exist as a person, trapped in the subconscious as an automatic trait, stripped down to your base functions.”

“Wow.” They said, looking a little queasy. Virgil felt a little panicked just thinking about it.

“Yeah. We didn’t go in there.”

The car was strange, he could feel the movement in his body as they rumbled down the street. It felt unnatural, for someone who had always walked or appeared. But he supposed sinking down would feel unnatural to Thomas, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. Anyway, the rhythm was almost soothing.

“So, how are you coping?” Talyn eventually asked, catching Virgil’s attention from where he was watching the scenery blur by. He blinked at the ridiculous question.

“I’m so stressed I’ve passed freaking out and now I can’t feel much of anything.” He answered honestly, and they winced. “I just wish everything was back to normal. My old life sucked, but I don’t have the slightest clue on what to do now.”

“Your best,” Talyn said firmly, before giving him a smile. He felt off-kilter, at his honesty and their response. “You can only do your best.”

They leaned forward and turned up their music, spending the rest of the ride in silence. They pull up outside of their house and Virgil dragged his feet as he followed them up the sidewalk and inside. Almost immediately a woman popped up, wiping her hands on her apron and scolding Talyn about not texting her to let her know they’d be late. She was a sweet-looking lady, a walking-talking mother stereotype with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, an apron slung over her blue dress. She was also fairly tall, her heels putting her inches half a head above both Talyn and  Virgil. Her stern blue eyes, lined in crows feet, turned to squint at Virgil in confusion. He gave her an awkward smile, shaky around the edges.

“Who’s this?” She asked, and Talyn placed a hand on his shoulder, shooting for comforting but just making him tense more.

“Let's go to the living room, this is a serious conversation.”

The living room kinda looked like it was from the 50’s suburbs, but traces of warmth and love and Talyn were scattered around. It was somewhat cool, but that didn’t mean the couch was any more comfortable. Tayln’s mom sat across from them on a loveseat, looking concerned.

“Mom, this is Virgil.” Virgil nodded his head at the woman, tucking his hands further in his hoodie.

“Nice to meet you.” He said quietly. Talyn began to spin a story about him being caught in human trafficking at a young age, their hands moving wildly around as they explain how he may have escaped but-

“There are still people out there looking for him. Big, bad people, Mom. He’s staying with Thomas right now, along with another escapee, but in order to work, he needs papers. And in order to get papers, he needs an identity.” Talyn explained, worked up. Virgil was a little touched, but mostly uncomfortable at the lie they were spinning. A cover story was one thing, but a cover story to get a cover story? That just felt dishonest. Especially the serious tragedy. But he kept his mouth closed, knowing it was a necessary evil.

“Why doesn’t he go to the police or the government?” Their mom asked, but it didn’t sound judgmental.

“You know our government, why do you think?” Talyn replied, tone scathing. Some kind of understanding dawned in the woman’s eyes, and she sat up straighter, nodding. She gave Virgil a long, searching look, examining him. He fidgeted in his seat, biting his lip nervously before she once again nodded, satisfied, and sighed.

“I’ll help. But we can’t pass you off as my kid, so we’ll have to claim you were my sister’s.”

Talyn blinked, surprised. “But Aunt Natalie died when I was a kid.”

A wobbly smile, something longing and lonely hidden behind false firmness. “Well, she’s the only relative I have, and as callous as it sounds it’s hardly like she can deny the story.” Then quieter, looking down at her hands briefly, “Natalie always wanted a child, anyway.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence, and Virgil is almost too nervous to speak. This is private, not meant for his eyes or his ears.

“Alright, but Virgil would have been 10 when she passed,” Talyn said. Their mother straightened, face once again determined and brave.

“You’ll have to claim you went into the foster care system, then, Virgil. Since so many kids get lost in the system, it shouldn’t be suspicious they don’t have records of you.”

“Thank you so much for your troubles, that should work perfectly, ma’am.” Virgil murmured, relief coloring his voice. She smiled and reached over, taking one of his cheeks between her fingers and pinching it.

“Call me Diane.” She insisted, before standing and brushing off her apron. “Besides, I could hardly leave you in danger. Now I’m almost done with lunch, be a dear and help your cousin set the table?” She winked, making her way to the kitchen. He and Talyn stood, looking a bit dazed at how easy that had been, and trailed after her.

“You don’t have to, I can always eat at home.” He stuttered out. She glanced over her shoulder and looked at him like he was crazy.

“Nonsense, I want to get to know my new nephew!” She insisted, “Now plates are in that cupboard right there, sweetie.”

He shot off a text to Thomas with his new cover story before setting to work, answering the lighthearted questions shot his way by Diane as she cooked. The conversation was smooth and simple, to his relief, and all in all he felt he did a good job considering this was the first non-Thomas person he’d met other than Talyn and Joan.

As he sat down to eat he received a text from Thomas, and he hurriedly opened it only to gape.

Thomas: That’s great! We’ve talked it over and decided that you were adopted by Patton’s family after your ‘mother’s’ passing

Thomas: Patton is very excited XD

“Oh jeez.” He said quietly with feeling. He didn’t know whether to be amused or horrified. Did Thomas really ‘XD’ him?

(A/N: All family members are going to be OC’s for plot convenience and because I know nothing about their real ones. Hope all of this makes sense, and that you only need a grain of salt with the cover story instead of a whole bucket.)

TAGLIST:

@strickenwithclairvoyance @insert--self--hatred

[reading-with-nixie]

Top Books of 2016

Hi Y’all,

This has been a HORRIBLE reading year for me. I had a lot of (mostly bad) Life Events and therefore spent a lot of year having neither the time nor the concentration to read. So I only ended up reading about 25 books. But the good news is that I didn’t have a quantity goal this year. Rather, I decided to only read books with queer characters (LGBTQ+, which in practice unfortunately ended up mostly LGT -- though a lot of polysexual characters came up toward the end!). And a bunch of them were either badly-written or included pretty bad representation. But I managed to pick a surprisingly large number of books that were actually worth recommending. So here’s my top NINE of this year, in basically  no particular order, except for my top two.

Hero by Perry Moore.

This one has a gay protagonist, and that’s certainly a part of the story - but our Thom has a lot more going on in his life than just coming to terms with his sexuality. Mainly the fact that he has superpowers and has become buddy-buddy with an elite superhero team that his dad (a former hero) used to be part of and now has negative feelings toward. There’s also the fact that Thom’s mom left he and his dad.

I enjoyed this book partially because there’s a lot more to it than just a coming out narrative and also because it doesn’t shy away from other huge issues. Racism is a large part of one character’s backstory, another character has cancer and both are treated seriously but without being used in a way that feels exploitative. Rather, these characters issues are used to contrast Thom’s and put his own situation into perspective.

Recommended for: Social justice clerics and MCU fans.

Own Voices?: Yes. Perry Moore was openly gay.

George by Alex Gino

George has been talked about a lot in certain corners of the internet, and it’s really no wonder why. The book’s a middle-grade book with a trans protagonist. Seriously, George (who has spent her first day out as Melissa by the end of the novel) is a 10-year-old trans girl. It’s just about as heart-breaking as you can imagine, with our elementary schooler protagonist encountering issues with gender roles, most prominently that she wants the part of Charlotte in her school’s production of Charlotte’s Web but is denied the part for unfortunately obvious reasons.

But it’s also really optimistic. Melissa’s mom and brother don’t really get her dysphoria, but they’re earnestly trying to, which is a great first step. And her best friend is wonderful. While some bad things happen to Melissa over the course of the book, the end makes it seem like her story is set to continue in an upward trajectory.

Recommended for: Miniature humans confused about their gender and people who love them.

Own Voices?: Alex Gino is genderqueer and uses they/them pronouns whereas Melissa uses she/hers. So both are trans, just different variations thereof. So I’m gonna go with yes again here.

Saving Hamlet by Molly Booth

Full disclosure: This book was written by a friend from college. But know that I wouldn’t put it on this list if it wasn’t genuinely great. Sometimes I legitimately forgot that it was written by someone I know because it was so polished (as it should have been, it was published by Disney Hyperion) and just GOOD in a way that feels removed from anybody I know personally, if that makes any sense. ANYWAY.

Saving Hamlet tells the story of a girl who falls through a trapdoor and ends up in Elizabethan London during the first production of Hamlet while stage managing her high school’s production of the same play. She needs to deal with all sorts of changes in her life while putting on two productions of Hamlet at once and dealing with TimeTravel!Jetlag.

Our protagonist, Emma, isn’t queer (presumably. She expresses romantic/sexual feelings for several people, all of whom are dudes) - but her best friend is bisexual and actually uses the term. There is also a minor character who turns out to be gay in a minor reveal. The queerness of these characters isn’t really part of Emma’s adventure, but does factor in a way that makes sense. Doubly so because theatre.

Recommended for: Shakespeare geeks and people who would like to see a fresh approach to time travel.

Own Voices?: Molly is a GREAT ally, but as far as I know she’s straight.

Simon VS the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Speaking of queer high schoolers and theatre, there’s also this marvelous book. I FLEW through it, having read the vast majority of it on Christmas and staying up all night on 27th to finish it.

The premise is that Simon, a high school junior, has been having an email courtship with a anonymous guy who also goes to his school. Then he forgets to  log out of his email in one of the school library’s computers and someone takes a screenshot of them. Said dude then blackmails Simon. It seems like it could be REALLY deep and dark based on the description. But it’s actually pretty light-hearted and fluffy. Though Simon (and his email not-quite-boyfriend-but-basically-boyfriend) faces anxiety about coming out and gets bullied slightly after, there isn’t any violence against him and his family is pretty damn great.

The email exchanges were all so cute and good to read, and all the teenage characters actually think and talk like teenagers. Several of the characters fuck up in pretty big ways (sexism and racism are also themes in the books), which the narrative takes an understanding but firmly negative attitude toward -- which is exactly what YA should involve, in my honest opinion.

Recommended for: David Levithan fans and people-people.

Own Voices?: Becky Albertalli is married to a dude, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but means that if she’s queer it’s not immediately evident if she’s queer. Regardless,she seems like a pretty kickass ally based off her work with LGBTQIA folks as an adolescent psychologist. Also, this interview  with her is pretty great and makes me want to be her friend.

Luna by Julie Anne Peters

I’d been meaning to read this book for a while and finally got around to it this year. It’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it really exceeded my expectations.

Luna is incredibly interesting for a lot of reasons.For starters, the protagonist is the sister of a trans woman dealing with being her sister’s only confidante while trying to navigate normal high schooler problems. Then there’s the fact that ALL the characters in the novel are flawed; the protagonist isn’t perfect, neither is her sister, and her parents are such complicated people. They all take turns being really selfish. But all of them are rendered sympathetic to varying degrees despite being flawed.

Another really cool thing about Luna is that its message is really different from a lot of other earlier LGBT novels (and being published in 2006, it’s definitely on the older side of literature about trans characters). A lot of older stuff tells readers that if people come out and/or transition bad things will happen to them. Whereas in Luna, bad things happen to the eponymous trans character, but the narrative makes it clear that NOT coming out and transitioning is the WORSE option for her.

Recommended for: Close friends and family members of trans folks (though probably not trans folks themselves; this book would make an excellent 101 course, but lacks a lot of nuance). Also, people who want to read about complex familial relationships.

Own Voices?: Julie Anne Peters has a wife, and judging by her work she’s probably a lesbian (though I guess she could be bi? Who knows? If you do tell me?). But she’s not trans.

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

This book is so long; it clocks in at almost 900 pages, but it’s so, so worth it.

In case you don’t know about Cloud Atlas, it’s basically a series of interwoven short stories that take place over a freakishly long span of time. Reincarnation is involved and some really cool aspects thread their way through all or some of the stories. There’s some really cool thriller and dystopian stuff and a lot of good characters...one of whom is bisexual (and maybe what we would consider poly?) and whose lover appears in another story much older. Neither of the characters have their queerness at the center of their stories, but it’s still undeniable there.

Recommended for: People who aren’t intimidated and/or enjoy long, era-sprawling narratives. Fans of Margaret Atwood and/or Agatha Christie would enjoy some elements for sure.

Own Voices?:  Mitchell is married to a women, so it’s unclear.

Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente

This is maybe probably the trippiest thing I’ve ever read. The basic premise of the book is that we follow four protagonists, each of which gain access to a sexually-transmitted fantastical world. Yes, really. If you have sex with someone who has a map on their skin, you go to this world which has a very Lotus Eater effect on a lot of people. It is in turns beautiful and creepy.

Sex being the main driving force behind the plot, there are a wide variety of sexual orientations presented here. We have lesbians, bisexuals, and a wonderful poly triad among other things. I mean, people also have sex with humanized trains and bees (again, yes, really) - but that doesn’t operate in such a way as to minimize the queerness. It won a Lambda, so that’s pretty rad.

That said, please be aware that the book deals with rape and there is a suicide attempt.

Recommended for: Sense8 fans and people who enjoyed The Night Circus.

Own Voices?: Probably? All of Valente’s bios state that she lives with her “partner” specifically, so that to me points to her likely being queer. I’m not 100% sure of that though.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

This book was given to me by a friend a while ago and had been languishing on my bookshelf for a long time. Had I known more about it, it would have been there for a much shorter period of time. It was my second favorite of 2016.

Kavalier and Clay tells the story of two cousins coming of age in the WWII era and becoming comicbook industry icons. The story has some really interesting magical elements that blend brilliantly with the gritty realities of Kavalier and Clay.

Josef Kavalier is sixteen when he leaves his Jewish family behind in Prague and lives with the weight of worrying about their fates for the majority of the novel. Samuel Clay, on the other hand, must deal with the issues inherent in being gay in 1940s America. The novel is written like a biographical text, so we get to know both these characters (both their lovers) fairly well.

Recommended for: Fans of comic books, history, or comic book history. Also, Jewish folks.

Own Voices?: Michael Chabon is married to a woman, but as previously stated that doesn’t prove or disprove anything - it only means that nothing is conclusive. However, Chabon is Jewish.

Everything Leads to You by Nina Lacour

If you’ve seen me at basically any point in 2016, I raved to you about Everything Leads to You. It’s the best. It doesn’t really have any merit as Literature™, but it’s about girls who like girls getting to be HAPPY and there’s more to the book than just the romance. It’s a goddamn miracle. Everything got a lot of hype and it’s really, really well-deserved. It was my favorite of 2016.

Emi has a really rad internship helping design movie sets, and she’s doing her first solo set when she encounters a mystery. And a really pretty lady. Both the mystery and her feelings about the girl in question are both focal points of the book, with the plots twining together and being pretty evenly balanced.

There is no coming out story, since Emi already knows she’s into girls (there’s actually a subplot in which she needs to deal with lingering feelings for her ex). Emi’s experience with being queer is largely positive, but that can’t be said for all the queer characters in the book. The book examines racism (Emi is biracial) and class issues while not making the book ABOUT its social justice dealings.

Recommended for: Girls who desperately want a w/w beach read and art students.

Own Voices?: Yup! Nina Lacour has a wife!

[bamboozle-floozle-shiznit]

First of all:

It’s interesting, this life we live. Isn’t it? Its like a movie and you’re the main character and no one gives you a script, but you feel like everyone else is reading from one and you need to improvise lines to deal with them. Here’s the mindfuck: they’re also the main character to themselves and believe they’re improvising as they go along.

“What’s my point?” I hear you say

My point is no one really knows what they’re doing here!

Most of us are just moving along, making it up as we go. Few of us have our lives planned out and even then life hits them HARD. I learnt a lot while in University, and maybe if I was a more active blogger at the time I’d have built a decent following and made use of that to push some ideas I’ve had laying dormant. No regrets though. Making a mountain out of a mole hill was my middle name in my teens. I was almost always planning, paranoid and anxious about something. I had a good way of hiding it: Preoccupying myself with other people’s problems and having a smoke or a drink with my guys in the evenings. It was very effective, numbing the anxiety and my worries but didn’t take them away. Sometimes it added more but on most days I just sat back, relaxed and enjoyed my time with people who were like me.

Now that I’m through with my philosophical musings:

WELCOME TO THE B-SIDE OF CRAB: THE DOUBLE LP by TOSAN

Hey guys! I promised a double post this weekend right? Here it is. I hope you’re happy. Bother. I deserve an accolade, blogging is a bitch to do, I love it but still.

So this post will have two topics in it:

My NYSC Experience

A life lesson I wish to share for my readers

The two will be interwoven because they’re relevant to each other, but it will be obvious when I am talking about one over the other.

In my final year of University I was extremely pressured to make it to a 2:1. In the previous post I told y’all I got out with a 3.56 but didn’t tell you how. It was a long push from my 300 level when I realized if I kept slacking I’d finish “badly”. So, I went hard and studied and was so anxious that I’d fail but I ended up getting to it. It felt really good because people knew I was on a 3.49 all the way to the end of my first semester of 400. I was on a 3.49 for a year!

It was after my finals that I got to 3.56 and it felt really good. The congratulations, the look on my mom’s face, my statement of result was lit so if I had to go for job interviews I’d look good.

I remember how hard I worked and how scared I was. I should’ve realized that all I needed to really do was work hard, pray and live life, be happy. I stressed till I graduated. I can’t even remember some things because of it.

Fast forward to NYSC registration and all that. I got the second batch, low-key I was stressing the registration because of placement and I wanted to serve quickly and keep it moving but it didn’t go the way I wanted because I didn’t get the first batch. I was sad but it ended up for good because I was able to graduate, celebrate my birthday and buy materials and learn from others mistakes because I went with the second batch. Also I was able to pick my certificate in peace. Some of my mates don’t have it yet cause they’re in other states. See why you shouldn’t stress?

Camp was quite the experience. I was at Lagos camp, some of you will hiss and say just Iyana Ipaja, it was sha still camp and if you don’t think it was worth it because it was close, that’s your cuppa tea.

So let’s develop a system before I start narrating the experience. I’ll divide it into weeks so I can summaries and I remember that I promised we won’t have a repeat of my month recap in the previous post.

You know what, fuck that. Take it how I type it.

So my first week was interesting. I was still trying to get used to it all. The bugle, the meals, the morning parade and all. I was in boarding school for my Junior Secondary Years so it was not that hard.

This was a typical day at camp, NOT ACCURATE, just a loose replication

4:45 : Morning Parade

7am: Breakfast

9am: Lectures

12:30: SAED

2PM: LUNCH

4PM: Man O War/Drills

6:30PM: Dinner

8:30pm: Socials (or for some of us Mami Flexing)

10:30PM: Lights out

So, as you can see it was a regimented life. Except Sundays.

Ordinary first day o, I got to the gate and this gate man saw matches abi was it lighter and was disturbing my life about if I smoke, telling me he will not do anything, bla bla me I was looking at him like

I acted all innocent. In the end he let me go.

God. Registration. REGISTRATION.

SEE, THIS LIFE, OBSERVE YOUR SURROUNDINGS.

Over 1000 smelly Nigerians gathered at the door of a hall and we were all tired. I had no idea I could’ve waited till the next day. Took it so seriously, put it on my head like a hawker and stayed there for hours. It wasn’t that bad though. I got in pretty early and registered did it all. I got Platoon 1.

Wait. I need to do this:

PLATOON1!!!! ACTION!!!!!

PLATOON WAAAAANNN!!!! ACTION!!!!

Okay I’m done.

So I got Platoon 1. S/O to Aunty Chioma, Poppin lady. She was awesome. We were the best platoon btw, I’m not hyping, we had the most 1sts and had the Overall best Corp member. Our Platoon leader Mr. Maleghemi Joseph aka Mr. Macho aka RJ aka baddest rapper, and inspirational leader.

After getting my platoon, I went in to get a room. See that my room ehn, we started very well but then I started to have issues with some of them because they made me welfare officer and some guy was being difficult. I digress. I went back to finish registration after getting settled in my room and got my kit . Please if your father works at NYSC, slap him for me, if it’s the two parents, slap them and then slap yourself. These people made us fill our sizes in the online registration and then we got there and almost everyone got random sizes. I was actually lucky and I got a goo jacket and crested vest. The rest were OP: OFF POINT.

I took the kit and chose not to slim them in camp because I wasn’t going to get bled dry just to look good, I found a way to look presentable for the Swearing in Ceremony.

The days went by and I applied for OBS. For those who don’t know, OBS is Orientation Broadcasting Service, the coordinators were from an older batch. S/O to Femi, Yetunde, TTuoyo, Ifeanyi and DJ Fingaz! I was advised to join OBS by my brother who was also in OBS and loved it. So I went for the interview and turns out I was good enough, they even made me Head of Editorial, that is the part of OBS that handles announcements and programmes. The engineering side handles Sound and Setup for Programmes. I was happy, not knowing that was the beginning of my problems in camp. 😦

Some fun activities I engaged in include:

Man o War Obstacle Course

Drilling (Marching Drills)

Drama (Qualifiers)

Dance (1st)

Talent hunt (3rd)

Kitchen duty (yeah, it was fun somehow)

OBS duties.

Other activities included:

Football (disqualified 😂)

Table tennis(QF)

Volleyball(1st)

Miss Petite (3rd)

Big, bold and Beautiful (Qualifiers)

SAED presentation ( 1st)

Lions den(3rd)

Debate (Quarter finals)

Cooking competition (2nd)

I engaged in some more than others and some “took my blood. Man O War literally got me slightly injured when I went the second time. (I went twice don’t ask how) I didn’t engage in drills past the first week because it clashed with other things I was doing. Dance I didn’t engage in fully, just some rehearsals. I did engage fully in drama but we didn’t get past the first stage. No regrets though it was fun. Our drama was about a village with Lassa fever and two corp members who came to the village to start a health center and a stubborn dibia (my humble self) who wouldn’t accommodate them. He ended up getting the disease too and was treated..

BUT

  We were robbed of the second round in that play. It’s my blog let me vent. A young nigga like me, I wrote the script, and my lovely friend and someone who I admire from the depths of my heart, Faith, was stage manager and director. S/O to Ekene, Precious, Tobi, Uche, Jennifer, Vicky, , Make-up, Emmanuel, Stage hands, The guards, Extras,David (Director also but he was always busy drumming for dancers) and anyone I forgot.

We were the second platoon to present a play and the drama was spread across three days. We got the loudest applause for our day and even had to do an impromptu closing that we didn’t plan for and the crowd LOVED IT. So how, you ask, did we not qualify. Turns out on the final day another God forsaken platoon , platoon 9, did the same thing but executed it better. When we watched the second round, I wondered how some of the other platoons with a horrible play qualified over us. Some said it was because they forgot us since no one from our day qualified. Uh, Bullshit. Whatever. I still hold a grudge against them. I lost my voice over that play.

Dance group was amazing. They were first position. I’m glad I was able to famz their rehearsals and be on the group chat.

We also won Mr. Macho thanks to Joseph.

For the talent hunt i was reluctant to audition but Faith egged me on and when I did the judges said I gave the best performance of the day.

I perform like Josh Norman, I ain’t normal, nigga

Unfortunately, i couldn’t replicate it in the finals.

  How? Well, we were third in the Talent Hunt, also thanks to Joe and I performed but apparently my mic wasn’t working I was told. Dunno why the judges didn’t stop me and tell me.

We were first in volleyball, that was for babes.

OBS was crazy. It was fun but we didn’t take advantage of our opportunities to be remembered because we were all not serious. I even chased one dead guy from the thing sef. I fell sick from the stress at a point.

We also had a camp carnival and a special night when Small Doctor, KENNYBLAQ, Ruggedman, 9ice and ahost of other scame through.

OOO, Tobi Bakre from Big Brother came and most of the girls lost their shit:

Some girls were like:

  One weirdo in particular did this

HAHA YOU THOUGHT.

The food was… Food. I ate it sometimes but mostly patronized Mami.

All in all it was quite the experience

Tips for prospective corp members

Carry money at least 20k

Make friends but good with everyone

Try to enter your room first when they’re allocating so you can pick a good spot.

Don’t charge you phone at Mami if you can help it. People’s panels got destroyed because so many phone were charging.

Use the laundry if you can’t wash. There’s never really time. Laundry’s cheap.

Balance the days you eat at Mami.

Befriend your platoon inspectors.

Be active in camp, it’s a stepping stone to success.

Over rules

Come a day early or a day late. Not on the main day.

Carry your credentials. All of them. Especially certificate and statement of result and an ID card

Join an SDG group.

Don’t dodge morning parade if you can, Information is  passed and Man O War chants are really fun

Be humble, do not engage soldiers when they order you because they’re just following orders. They will miss you when you are gone.

Take a leadership role in camp at least once. It builds character and patience

Carry a Sweater, preferably white, for Cold days and Shades for Hot days

One fulfilling moment in camp was when I was recognized by the Camp commandant. We had a bad start because he came to chase us from rehearsals when it was coinciding with drill and I threw a fit. He saw it and was pissed and I legit stared him down till my platoon mates pushed my head to look down as a sign of submission. Then I apologized. In the final night of camp I came to drop asun and drinks for my OBS colleagues assigned to the staff party, he called me and reminded me of the altercation and said I changed his mind about me because I was really active for my platoon all over camp and he also saw me Emceeing the Camp Carnival. I was blushing like a fool because he is known to be very difficult. His nickname is delete because he chased a couple corp members from camp, yeah, he de-camped them and so he threatened others with the term. His favourite quote “I will delete you!” .

The man ended up being most popular camp official. See why you should not fuck with anyone, just be a badass and people will love you. This was me

It felt good to be recognized and I learnt that people are always watching and admiring from afar when you do good or bad, you end up building a reputation for something. So don’t look for recognition just enjoy when it comes to you and do good in any endeavor you’re in.

Now to the life lessons I learned

Don’t take yourself too seriously: in camp I fell sick because I was stressed by someof the activities I was involved in. OBS was tasking because of a certain man who keppt threateningly us cause we were pretty lazy tbh and I’m ashamed about that. I took things on my head and rarely asked for help

Ask for help: people around you are ready to do things if you ask nielg. Even as a leader delegate wok and remind them that you trust them and need them. Don’t boss them around. It’s hard to remember in the eat of the moment of.but if you do you’ll make a great leader

Challenge yourself and Do it: if you feel like doing anything, do it. Don’t be shy or scared because fear is an illusion. Even if it is something you have never done, challenge yourself. If you feel nervous tell yourself you’re excited and your body is gearing up to shock the world. It works!

Have a support system: every other day I’d go to Mami with pals and drink and gist. Having a support system to take care of you when you’re stressed and need to vent helps you get over things. I appreciate my friends I made in camp and they’re all headed for greatness.

Be disciplined: I watched my friend Joseph in camp and noticed that the he was highly disciplined. Probably from his man o War days. Admired that. He was also platoon leader ad when he became most outstanding corp member. I was screaming in elation because he desred it.

Celebrate yourself and others: I know I said I had a grudge with the drama thing but really it’s no biggie. Learn to celebrate others victories and also be kind to yourself when. You lose. I learnt that from Faith who I told I’m always hard on myself that it won’t do me any good. I learnt to take it easy and always be kind to myself. So I’m leaving that with y’all!

DANCE: God I danced well in that case. Dancing is a joyous activity. You don’t need to know all the latest steps just have fun at the party. Or even if it’s not a party, play some music and dance. Take someone else along to dance with you, especially if you are the shy type. You’ll be happier for it

Ignore naysayers and Don’t be a naysayer: Ignore people who tell you you can’t do it. In the words of Kanye West. “Any pessimist I don’t talk to them, plus I ain’t have no phone in my apartment. ” Also don’t be a naysayer. Be a cheerleader!

Be grateful: gratitude goes a long way. Be grateful to God, to your neighbour, to the air, and everything around. When you can remember to just say thank you to think air. It sounds like some mystic weird zen shit but it works either way

Everything works out for good: While trying to crate this post I typed on my phone and my laptop but I did not have the full draft on PC, so when I got to work this evening, I did not see the full draft. I tried to connect my phone to the work Wi-Fi and it was misbehaving. I panicked a bit but in the end  I called the neighboring hotel that is under the company and got it reset and voila! Do not sweat the small stuff, the extra time I got helped me refine the post for your reading pleasure and  I got an idea I will share at the bottom of the post!

So, that’s that!

Here are some pictures from camp!

      Sometimes I will do reviews of the songs of the week courtesy Wax Poetic. I will also do movie reviews and opinion polls.

Next week’s topic will be about the candidates running for the office of President. I will do an expose on them. Also, its payday! Yaay, so i will be doing my first giveaway. So check in on my next post next weekend!

If you want me to review your album or track or want me to do something on this blog or a collaboration with you, hit me up here. I won’t review my upcoming project because it’s unethical.

See y’all next week

  Give some love to a stranger today

BYE

CRAB: THE B SIDE First of all: It's interesting, this life we live. Isn't it? Its like a movie and you're the main character and no one gives you a script, but you feel like everyone else is reading from one and you need to improvise lines to deal with them.

[rexylafemme]

the usefulness of being still has come and gone, just like the jolt of cruel dreams before the dawn

i’m not a chill person. i can find my center & i can shift perspectives as i need in order to be safe and grounded with myself (sometimes). but i refuse delusions and the ignorance required to tell myself all of this is fine, to be at false ease. i have rage and i believe in its power; if we use it and channel it right. i have anxiety and fears, which are real and valid responses to the trash can past and present and future circumstances i’ve experienced, we’ve created, continue to create. the fruits of destructive power structures, from outward to our homes. i don’t believe in them, no faith, no allegiance to them. i refuse and i won’t compromise my beliefs and values, the other visions i’m working toward, we’re working toward. a decolonized femme-centered, black-and-brown-centered, disabled/sick/crazy-centered, nurture-centered reality. brutally soft.

i’m willing always to be open to new ideas and growing and seeing things in new ways, other experiences, if they promote liberation, a coming back to radical compassion in micro to macro ways, resistance, ends to violence and suffering. but, any kind of thinking or behavior that is wound up in any kind of BS, i am not going to protect or make excuses for. this goes for within personal relationships, in institutional settings, cultural production, etc. there’s no time for that, there’s been no time for it for too long. part of loving people and being alive has to be holding ourselves and each other accountable for the oppression and privilege that live in our psyches that we knowingly or unknowingly reinforce and act out. if we can’t disrupt or challenge these things in ourselves and through our relationships with each other, we can’t be fully functional or effective activists, organizers, artists, anti-oppression advocates, friends, lovers, workers, anything. it doesn’t feel good to face these things. but, it’s not supposed to. and growth takes time. challenging these things within our communities and families doesn’t feel good either. it puts you at odds, you have to rub up against defensiveness, and sometimes, no matter what we do, we’re ineffective. sometimes it isn’t safe to broach the process and we have to walk away, protect ourselves. we can’t force people to change.

we all run away from parts of ourselves, our pasts, our histories. i try not to feel bad about this, knowing that at least when it comes to family, blood and chosen, stuff, it was out of self-defense and preservation to run or to avoid. it wasn’t safe at specific times to dig up or approach certain wounds, to acknowledge that they even existed. also, sometimes you have to make the kinda unsound or “bad” choices to really know and be confident in your true choices. hecate: crossroads, being with your choices. eventually, you have to look at and face the painful choices, memories you made and have to move past them. you won’t forget, but there has to be some movement toward graceful acceptance of how things were/are.

being openly vulnerable and honest in a more intense way in a lot of areas in my life in the last few months to a year is bringing up a lot for me—in really great ways, in complex ways, in triggering ways. i’m coming up against everything that shaped my ideas around how i should express myself, what i should express, when, what i should care about, who i should care for, how i care. and all of the wonderful and terrible things that have influenced my caring—for myself and other people. i’m doing my best to live authentically, unapologetically—in line with my feelings and values. i’m doing my best to feel through the nasty stuff—external, internal, past, present. i’m doing my best to face myself in all my multiplicities, glories, mistakes, gifts, failures, joys, pains. i’m putting myself out there really hard, leaving shit up to fate/faith, reminding myself that honing my best self and putting that self forward, putting forth generosity, empathy, forgiveness, love, care, is everything. that it brings me closer to others who are trying their hardest, too.

areas where you need faith: justice card (wild unknown) decisions. balance. non-binaries. remember everything is everything. trust the multitudes. you are gray area. act with your highest intentions & desires & that is what you will meet externally.

i’m coming up against my defense mechanisms and walls—the hermit impulse that tells me to squirrel away, to protect my heart and spirit and body in a way that keeps me in suspicion and at a distance from others, everyone. i’m trying to not feel so scared and threatened. i’m challenging it because it doesn’t feel good and it doesn’t give people the opportunity to be good or to really know me the way i want to be known. and yet i am seen & known? emergeNYC really created a space where we were challenged over all these deep, embedded impulses toward singularity, overbearing self-protection, fear of intimacy, narrow-minded ideas of what intimacy is and between whom, lack of trust, the impacts of what we create with/between/for/against each other.

areas where you need to show commitment: III of cups. friendship. community. support. sharing and receiving care. abundance, warmth. the balm of good company. know you belong, we all can belong with each other. the importance of pleasure. the responsibilities of kinship. commit yourself to togetherness, in confluence with solitude. conjure a togetherness with yourself as well. birds don’t go at it alone, they have vast networks, open channels of communication, both parallel and interwoven flight.  

i don’t want my body, brain, heart and their impulses to be driven by fear & self-preservation always. i know i learned these responses for a reason and they’ve served me. i know it started with my family, both as life lessons given to me lovingly of how to move through this cruel-ass world and also given to me by our family’s own cruelties, inabilities to care for themselves, each other, me. i learned how to code-switch my way through any institution, how to manipulate my way from the grip of social worker hands, CCS, how to not be taken away, how to not get prescribed things, how to worm my way out of the hospital, the psych ward, how to get an abuser to stop hurting me as much tho being unable to fully emancipate from them. how to hide all of these experiences. how to talk my way outta anything. how to be a shark, how to cultivate numbness to get through and keep going. the wonders of dissociation. and then we’re supposed to feel guilty for what was done to us,what we’ve done, and the ways we had to survive. it doesn’t feel great to bear, but i think it’s okay when you’re protecting yourself?

it’s all the old stuff—blood and chosen family from the present and past. people who it feels more painful to love than not, but you can’t take the love away anyway. i don’t know how to do this. how to love through it, how to become okay with things that are not okay and that still and will always hurt, these indelible things. dredged up at any minute by the way the sky looks or a sound or a similar feeling. like having a psychometric relationship to everything in your realm of experience. feeling the resonances. i don’t know how to transform with people if they can’t transform themselves, if they actively dodge the opportunity. i don’t know how to be with them, but i can’t cut out my family. i can’t resolve anything either. but i can’t be a container for the same shit, that is actually just worse than it was before, the rocky road. i don’t want to watch, i don’t know what to do. it hurts all the time and i’m powerless. and in the city where we all began. this paradox that is a through-line in my life.

what you are distracted by: V of wands. conflict, loss, competition, separation. family. the wands aren’t going anywhere or working together, they’re sprawled about, the energy is disordered. they reach toward each other, but not to make a genuine connection. isolation in themselves. defensive and unwilling to compromise. you can’t heal it, it’s not yours. scattered at best, working at cross purposes at worst. know where to keep fighting and when to move in another direction. you can’t dwell on the past.

i biked around red hook, where i feel at home, attached to something. being there feels like a hug. i biked past the building that was once the elementary school my grandparents went to that has been low-income apartments for decades. i can handle that. the fancy-ass cocktail bar with the french windows named botanica i can’t deal with. but i let it go, i keep going. passing all the streets i remember hearing about in childhood: columbia st, van brunt st, walcott st. i walked to the end of the valentino pier and watched the sunset, thinking of my grandmother. the sun fell directly behind the statue of liberty, obscuring it in a fuzzy burst of hot orange light. liberty, that sick joke, engulfed in toxic neon flames. i thought it must’ve been hard to be there, in red hook, where no one wanted to be then, with things as they were, and look out and see that damn statue all the time. or, maybe it just became part of the landscape, look past it, let it go. maybe it was just calming, romantic, to be on the waterfront, gazing out seeing sky meet water, dreaming about who you could be, in a neighborhood set apart from everything else, brooklyn wouldn’t even claim it—with all its chaos, murders, fires, rats, mobs, riff raff. cut off and forgotten, monstrosity, an eye sore, disowned, unknown maybe, but not nonexistent, not without redemption. i’m here, so love had to come from somewhere in red hook. from a michael and a dorothy, for my mother to be born there to find a quiet, poetic bob from the bronx. love, or at least a pull toward someone else’s body and soul, whatever that’s called.

there were iridescent scales of light on the water, striking yellow, cerulean, pink, sliding their way over an infinity of tiny choppy waves. it was beautiful, it made me sad. falling into nighttime. i sat and wrote about what it might be like if there were a version of experience where my grandmother was still alive and she accepted me for who i was, a version where my trans-ness/otherness/craziness wouldn’t confuse or break her heart, as i kinda fear they would. if she would meet me as myself, but maintain a lot about herself, too. she would mean well, she would bother me mostly me about love. r. and i were watching kimmy schmidt and titus was being scouted out and appraised by a church lady for her gay nephew. it felt relatable: the sweet busy-bodiness, the gossip, the matchmaking. my grandma would be picking out candidates or asking constantly, “well what about so and so? or whatshername?” how she would be kindly pushy about marriage and kids because partly that’s her framework for understanding love and family, and also because she thinks i’m good at nurturing and building kinship bonds and knows commitment is important to me. i would meet her where she was and struggle a bit with it, trying to figure out how to explain my discomfort/critique with the institution of marriage, the heteronormative dyad of “family,” how we conceptualize relationships in general as fixed, love unconditional, desire as one thing, i would struggle to communicate my conflicts. she might struggle to understand them. we would both mean well and try. and maybe a lot would go left unsaid, maybe some of it wouldn’t need to be said.

i could see her inviting someone over to dinner, taking their hand at the table, and saying stuff like “you know, rex is a writer, he has a book coming out,” in a wink-wink way and i would be mortified and smile and fumble my words talking about it, but also partially flattered. and also i would later remind her that i am perfectly independent and comfortable and complete in myself, irreverent artemis, and she would assure me she knows, but i am a beautiful person and i shouldn’t be bitter and jaded and closed off, i don’t have to be a nun, when i could also have all of myself and more as well. i would roll my eyes because i know she’s right. she would also want me and encourage me to pursue my life and passions and gifts and not neglect them. she would say often that ignoring your gifts is a sin. often when she would be asking me to sing for her and i would get shy. as always, i would kinda want her approval in everything i do, so i would believe in it all. she wouldn’t have liked some of the stuff i got myself into, but only because it wasn’t right for me, didn’t honor the fullness and wonder of me. she would still talk me up to her other church ladies, as she always would talk up her grandkids, especially cheryl and me, the shining stars—so smart, so talented, the brilliant, going-places girls, ten years apart. i loved it tho and i always wanted the church ladies to like me, for elders to like me in general. and it was important for me to be respectful, polite. i also just appreciated their wisdom and assuredness and qnz fashion sense.

i walked to the other pier, directly off conover st, sat on the ledge over the rocks in the dark. watching the moonlight on the river. it looked like animated script writing itself out in bright silver on a moving blue-black surface. i was looking for words in the cursive, thought i saw my own name. rex renée, king reborn. but we try to make sense of the surreal all the time in our search for meaning. maybe it’s just something i made up, maybe that is enough. i’m not sure, maybe it doesn’t matter either way.

later, on my way home i was young leo, loneheart ladyboy romeo if he lived, grew up,  and got his shit together on my metallic purple bike with my purple helmet and purple shorts—color of royalty of lions. i biked past king st til i was on verona st. in front of the visitation church, where my grandmother, elder leo, attended mass, got christened in, confirmed in, married in. the church my mother, linda, donna, & michael also were christened in. where uncle eddie was just memorialized in. i was looking up at the moon and creating my meaning, writing the book in my head from the movie i’m living inside of. leo. king. verona. romeo. renée. visitation.

where miracles can occur: II cups. feeling. connection. reciprocity. mutally-exchanged beauty. a romantic approach to anything that is meaningful. an ability to experience seeing/knowing, being seen/being known. respect & honor. share your appreciation, strengthen bonds, make efforts, offer kind words. growing, blossoming.

i have to connect with these would-bes, shape her memory into a best-case-scenario parallel reality fantasy, because it empowers me to keep going, to see myself as she did, and also because she was the one figure in my life who wasn’t conflicting to me, she was a rock and a home and a safety net. and we protected each other in a way that was only gentle, and i think knowing we couldn’t do much about what surrounded us. i was never confused about her love—what it meant, if i had it, if it would disappear. she was never violent, but she did see and hold a lot of it, and i did too. she didn’t lash out, she didn’t refuse her faults. we took care of each other, and everyone else. the eldest and one of the youngest. mess. but, it’s just what happened.  

the people i love all over in my life remind me of what this kind of holding looks like. commitment to each other, patience, allowing ourselves to bask in our own similarities and truly honor our differences, to listen without having to hear our own voices, etc. to stand up for each other in healthy ways and more than just saying so.

setting/having/owning/respecting/talking about boundaries and limits. not shutting down completely or walking out on someone when we get scared or hurt. not making assumptions. trying. accountability processes, forgiveness, repair. putting tit for tat, an eye for an eye, holding shit over people’s heads, childish revenge and lashing out to bed. self-awareness and ownership. self-love over egotism. real love/kinship over possession/love addiction/codependence/narcissism. the gentleness and patience we need when our uglinesses inside rear their heads—the moments we do lash out or get controlling, jealous, driven by ego and scarcity, fear of loss or hardship or death or heartbreak. the gentleness and patience we need when we are just hurting and need support. we are transforming ourselves together.

we do always have the potential to be or become our own and each others’ worst nightmares. denying that doesn’t make it untrue. there is power in our own monstrosity when we are brave enough to look at it. it’s not about “taming” or “overcoming” it, but about infusing it with the love and understanding and care that it needs that it didn’t have. i can’t speak to sociopathy because that state of being feels too deep and far gone for me to wrap my head around any healing to. but our own pain, personal and collective, ills against us by loved ones, institutions, the state, shape the monsters and the nightmares. so there is something to looking at and listening to them, the rough whispers in the dark, the void in us, to unlock truths about us that we can integrate into our being, to be whole and full. no one is fully evil, but we are influenced and molded by the nature of our world (reality as we create it). this is why i love horror movies, exploring what monsters come from the way the world treats us. but that’s not all. which is why i haven’t been able to watch them much lately. because there is some other force, nature or divinity or whatever we try to name it, in us. a force of benevolence and a pull toward harmony, toward integration. our bodies down to the smallest unit are driven toward this, everything natural, organic and inorganic, are driven toward this. homeostasis, balance. not to be confused with status quo or stasis. but to tides—push/pull, to every action an equal and opposed reaction. it’s science, it’s alchemy. in horror, this force doesn’t win out often, human failure does. not because its not strong enough, but because we aren’t. which is, in fact, horrifying. but i really don’t think it has to be or is only this way.

do the best we can. dare to fail. and our best might sometimes be another day’s worst. we get so tenderized sometimes, we break or we fall apart or we destroy ourselves or we aim to destroy other people. but we piece ourselves back together, patched up with new swatches, we rise up, we regenerate, we renew, the maiden, the phoenix, the flower, the snake. we have to. there is no other choice. well, there is death or there is total surrender to monstrosity and horror. but, better to endure, to do the work, to feel it all, to own it all. haters be damned. white supremacy/patriarchy/colonialism/capitalism be damned. all these structures that deny what is truly essential to us be damned. it’s all so childish and sick and boring and stupid. disgusting.

instead of hating ourselves—especially for what’s meaningful and beautiful about us—not being the same, humanness, feelings, infinite possibilities for who we could be and how—but also for the shitty stuff we reproduce and learn as a result of these systems we live within--& instead of being greedy or jealous of power—we need to funnel our hatred, our rage toward power, away from each other, the ones we love. funnel our power toward each other—making huge, interlocking webs of it to throw over the big, sick, fucked up, red-faced trash baby of the toxically-masc colonial project and suffocate it til it’s dead. its ghost will haunt us, roaming about, sickly ethereal over the earth, always beckoning to be summoned back into form, and it will happen, as franchises do—II, III, IV, V, fascism’s revenge, the death rattle, but we can overcome it every time. we can be more powerful and intelligent than the temptation to allow it to materialize, to be embodied. i believe that. don’t dream it, be it!

a loving message for your heart & soul in times of doubt: IX cups. pools of calm feeling. warmth and coolness. being refreshed. the light of the moon, calm on calm ripples of water. sunsets. cycles of comfort & peace. you’ve been calling it all in. times without turbulence and of having all your ducks in a row. enjoy what makes you feel good now, in the present, life--connection, music, food, beauty, nature. mastering the balance between enjoying pleasure and over-indulgence. sink into gratitude and cherish what you have. we can generate the feelings we desire in small and large ways every day. a perspective of abundance and of having. continue to stretch ourselves, expand, to strive for more, while appreciating where we are now and what we have now. fill all your cups and share them.

[the italicized tarot responses are from a spread i made for myself around faith and fate]