#And our landlords are family friends who are renting it it out to us several hundreds below what we should be paying so I feel bad for

[magiarec]

🆘🏠 WE NEED SAFE HOUSING.

We moved across Canada last year to escape severe medical abuse, but our living situation rapidly degraded. Our next door neighbour is a violent racist homophobe who has dedicated the last year of my life to harrassing us. More details will be under the cut. After months of searching we finally found a new apartment an hour away, and can have it any time in the next two weeks as long as we have the money. We do not have that much money. We can cover moving costs, the remainder of rent on our current place, and all our normal medical/etc bills. We've asked family for help and gotten a resounding "bootstraps" from them. Mutual aid is my only hope.

Our triad is LGBT (what, all at once? yes!), severely mentally ill, two of us are disabled, and one of us is latina. I'm currently still trapped waiting on a reply from immigration, legally can't work yet, and I don't feel safe doing sex work here when an arrest could mean deportation.

🌈 ♿ £0/2000

total cost: deposit (600), rent (1200), eating this month (200)

Here’s what we’ve been trying to get away from for a year. TW for racism, homophobia, slurs, child abuse, assault, graphic violent/sexual threats, sexual harrassment, fatphobia, the police having to get involved, and anything else that I can add if you need. I’m going to list these in the order they happened.

• Tried to break into our house during a four hour long extended breakdown. Hammered on the door til it dented. Threatened all of our lives multiple times. This went on until 2am. First police report.

• Spent a week hammering on our door or window and screaming “WAKE UP” at any time between 4-6am if she heard us using the kitchen the night before.

• Followed me up and down the road when I ran errands calling me a disgusting pig, the d slur, and a pedophile. Followed all of us down the road more than once screaming at us for being worthless [d slur]s while she was a mother.

• Told her children I was a pedophile, and that I might kidnap them one day. Loudly. In front of their friends. Described in graphic detail what she assumed I would do to them if I did.

• Waited on our doorstep for me and pulled out a fistful of my hair when I tried to push past her to get inside. I have not left the house alone since. Second police report.

• Multiple months of her waiting until after midnight to begin blasting religious sermons or the same fucking eminem song six times through our conjoining walls.

• Began weighing our fire escape grates down while screaming at us that she’d burn us alive to ready us for hell.

• Waited until I was home alone and then came up to the door and began calmly telling me that she’d, quote, “cut my clit off” before offering to bring her guy friends over to rape me straight.

• Taped naked photos of herself to our bedroom window.

• Brought a fucking ant infestation into the basement apartments we split and tried to punch me in the face when I told the inspector we’d been putting down traps and all of the bugs came from her side of the building.

• Chased my husband down the side of our house, spat on his face, and tried (almost succeeded before we both tackled it shut) to kick the door open. Third police report that they actually bothered to come out for, and the first one where the officer who arrived took the genuine threats and physical assault seriously.

It’s going on trial tomorrow. Our landlord has had months to evict her for the assults, or not paying rent, or the harrassment, or the way she keeps threatening to shoot his family and calling them the N word. He has told her instead that we’re “probably” moving out soon for the past year and she insists she’s staying until that point - a thing we found out this week when confronting him about her still being here. We also found out that his plan to rent us her bigger unit is contingent on us furnishing it and leaving it for two months when his family comes to stay for a wedding in August.

We also also found out that when the baliffs said they can’t evict her until he does [basic legal step that she could contest] [... that he could have done last year] he decided it wasn’t worth it. So he’s going to illegally evict her. By waiting u til she leaves next week, unlocking her unit, loading her belongings into a van, changing the locks, and installing a gate. His plan is to have her arrested for tresspassing when she tries to come back to her house.

This is insane. It is not legal, it’s deeply unethical even if I hate her ass, and there is no way in hell that she will not just blame us for it when it happens. My husband leaves for work at 4am. She knows this. I am dead fucking certain she will attack him or us before the week is out if we remain here. I am terrified and traumatized and need your help. Please, please help.

[leebrontide]

Like 20 years ago a friend of mine rescued a traumatized chinchilla in a tiny cage from I think some family member who has no idea what these animals required before getting one. And they set about taking care of that adorable little grump until a crooked landlord made their apartment unsafe for the chinchilla.

So they rehomed the little guy with me, and my wife. And we got him a great big aviary that we fixed up special that ate up half our rented kitchen, and let him run around outside it, and jump 5 feet in the air, and do the things he’d wanted to do.

Eventually he died, and after a while we got one chinchilla, and then another to keep the first one company. We had them for years, as my wife’s health declined and declined- mostly respiratory symptoms that wouldn’t go away.

Eventually, we realized she’d developed a severe allergy to their one and only evolution-approved food source. She was maxed out on allergy meds and there was just nothing we could do.

Our friend who had rehomed a chinchilla with us before now had health, money and stability they hadn’t had back then, and still loved chinchillas, and so with a heavy heart, we rehomed our little guys with him.

This week we happen to be petsitting, and I’m laying on the floor of my friends house with my former pets, being happy that they are clearly spoiled absolutely rotten and living their best little lagomorph lives.

[xxgremlinleexx]

More info on our situation.

This will be posted to the GoFundMe as well.

I feel that it is incredibly important to express just how last resort this is. It has come to my understanding that if people are to come across this, they are likely to believe I haven't exhausted all of my options.

This, unfortunately, isn't the case.

Mississippi has never been safe for us as black, queer people. And having neighbors turned against us for something orchestrated by pur landlord has made it even less so for us to continue being here.

There is absolutely nothing left for us here.

Lemme explain. As of now, both my partner and I are employed. However, our pay and hours are nowhere near enough to cover the cost of rent without outside assistance from friends and family who are all also struggling at this time. This includes our other partner who has their own shit to deal with. I work at Dominos and am paid a flat $9.00/hr as a CSR. I'm only granted NINE (9) hours a week. Yes. You read that correctly. Only 9 hours a week. 18 every two. 36 a month. Which is why I started doing commissions. To make ends meet.

Because Void (our cat) would genuinely have nowhere to go if we didn't make things work somehow. We've had him since he was a kitten, and he would be even more devastated than us.

Friends can't take him. Not anyone nearby. And with the lack of proper shelters, surrendering him would likely spell death.

Just know, while things weren't perfect, they were not always like this. We started falling behind after a technological error on the Apartment's end (More on that later) where two months' worth of rent was never posted. And once we made the error known, it came with fees stacked from both months and then some. In the middle of March. After I'd been dropped from my internship at a super Christian-run food bank. Where I was the only openly queer one there. 🙃

And it's truly only been downhill from there.

My nesting partner is paid slightly more than me at 9.75/hr, but they haven't been given a full 40 hour week since September of last year. This is after asking for all that can be given at their job despite dealing with chronic pain and being immunocompromised. They've been working without any sort of proper accommodation aside from being offered brief breaks in the store's beer cooler.

We've taken out payday loans out of sheer desperation not to lose our home, two of which almost crippled us.

We do not have a car. Mississippi's public transportation system is absolutely abysmal. I used the bus to go to work during my internship. I was left stranded twice and was s3xually harrassed during my rides on several occasions. The system is horrendously underfunded, so the drivers just don't care.

We have tried various programs including section 8. The wait lists are endless.

The property manager has explicitly expressed that they do not accept vouchers from any of the most prevelant housing assistance programs in our area. Which was one of the reasons why we almost weren't allowed to move here (Making a video on that soon.) during a time where we were, in fact, homeless and running out of time at the hotel we were staying at. The only assistance we have is for electric. And that's only because that bill is not processed directly through the complex itself.

I've been permanently flagged by the unemployed office. Why? Because one of my employers (the most transphobic experience I've ever had. More on that later.) claimed that nobody under my legal name, SS, or anything had ever worked there before. Every other experience listed was verified, but due to that one instance, even when I provided my old work badge and my W2, I was (and still am) no longer able to apply for unemployment without being stuck in a neverending wait list for an investigation that will never come. It will remain stuck in pending for months and then the case number will magically close without notice.

We have Food Stamps, but due to the sudden dip in income and hours, MDHS has pretty much flagged that I'm able-bodied but just choosing not to work. Which has resulted in the amount we're given monthly to harshly decrease.

What I'm trying to say is that the truly needy and unfortunate are treated like rats and scammers. Pests. These programs put in place to help us aren't funded enough to make the people tasked with running them truly care. So they turn us away.

This has been a problem in Mississippi for years. The state government is given money to help and distribute as needed, but those funds are withheld. Millions of dollars every year are kept away from the families who need it most, and nobody here can answer why.

And if you're queer or a person of color? Good luck.

I explain all of this to say that we genuinely need help wherever we can get it.

We need to get out of Mississippi.

Please help in any way you can. Spread this and my GoFundMe wherever you can. It is us the link above. Share it wherever, whether you can donate or not.

My commissions are open. All three slots are available. I will gladly work for the money.

Thank you for your reading.

[greenenoughgrass]

there is too much violence in this world

aren't you tired of all the fighting? not just the literal warfare and genocide, but the fighting we do to stay afloat?

i'm so tired of my loved ones being threatened with financial violence

when your barista is on edge-- not bc of the caffeine but bc they're at risk of losing their job bc this is the third time they've been late this year

when my boyfriend lost his full-time job at a vet hospital because the manager caused relations with the landlord to become hostile so they had to close and he didn't get re-hired by the same company.

when your friend in tech knows somebody on a visa with family abroad who was let go with two weeks of severance. before the holiday season.

when your favorite people don't talk to you for weeks, months, maybe years on end bc they're too busy living hand-to-mouth at a fucking dead-end job where their time and spoons are sucked into a void

when your stylist friend assumes you're not friends anymore bc you haven't heard from each other in years

and your server friend has to work at four different restaurants to make rent and car insurance

when all these places say they're hiring but never call back even if you interview well

when managers dodge and weave their way out of accountability

and grocery prices continue to climb

and your artist buddies have 9-5s so they can do pop-up markets on the weekends

and the poor musicians; always abundant, never prosperous. who tips them?

even the lucky ones who work for sweet small business "families" are at risk of being let go within a week for the most inane shit

the independent contractors are completely fucked, good luck paying for healthcare and that self employment tax; you have no ally but your reputation, no advocate but yourself

when you're paralyzed by debt and can't even consider structured payments, you prioritize by throwing away any hope for good credit with the envelopes

the gnashing cogs of this rusted contraption have chewed out all our sentiment and peace of mind like old bubblegum losing its flavor

it has stolen precious moments from us that can never be given back. it takes what cannot be priced and demands urgency and comformity

it has ripped away our comforts and our joys and made our blood turn gray and stale with silence

we deserve better. we are owed so much.

[weddingtonrealtynow]

Best Real Estate and Home Buying Apps for 2023

Thousands of people use realestate app each month because they are convenient and allow them to search on the go. Approximately 97% of home buyers start their home search online, and 76% use a mobile device or tablet.

Realestate apps let you browse a huge database of homes, apartments, and commercial properties on your mobile device. The site provides filters for searching by location, bedrooms, square footage, and more that will benefit prospective homebuyers, renters, and investors. We have some realestate app for ios too.

1. Zillow

A major factor that makes Zillow's app stand out is its vast scope. Among U.S. real estate websites, Zillow is the most frequently visited. Renters can share a prospective property with their partner or roommate and begin their application process quickly with its efficient features. Almost every need can be met by the app.

2. Xome Auctions

The Xome Auctions app offers comprehensive online listings for bidding on the property at auctions. Xome Auctions has many of the same features as other apps, except that it also tells whether the property is financed or whether it must be paid in cash.

3. Weddington Realty Now

When purchasing a home through Weddington Realty app, individuals can receive donations from friends, family, etc. specifically to fund housing-related costs. It is a great accomplishment and investment for most people to purchase real estate (homes and/or establishments). When buying a home, you must have a great deal of money or obtain financing from a bank.

4. Redfin

The Redfin app is an application that takes real estate brokerages to a national scale and revolutionizes the buying and selling process. In addition to its cutting-edge technology, the Redfin app also integrates actual Redfin agents and customer service representatives to keep the human element intact.

5. Trulia

As far as home values are concerned, Trulia is the best app because it provides the most information about what determines a home's value.

Since its launch in 2005, Trulia has received high ratings from both major app stores, Google Play and iTunes. Home values and other information are provided using Zillow data, but the presentation is different.

6. Realtor

The National Association of Realtors is the parent organization of Realtor.com. The best part about this rental listing service is that realtors can update their listings for free every day. Finding qualified prospects faster is one of the benefits landlords receive from updating their listings.

As part of News Corporation (NWS), Move, Inc. owns Realtor.com, which was founded in 1996. In addition to showing when the rental listing was last updated, the Realtor app is good for owners of rental units because it gives users up-to-date information about each listing. The site also provides information about schools and noise in the surrounding area. The app Realtor enjoys a lot of views because it caters to its target market. Our top pick for the best rental app is Realtor because of its extensive renter traffic and landlord-friendly features.

7. Apartments.com

The 1.1 million rentals on Apartments.com, as well as the amazing imagery they showcase, make the site a renter's dream. An application can be submitted directly through the app by tenants who are interested in renting.

The CoStar Group (CSGP) owns Apartments.com, founded in 1992. Among the best U.S. commercial real estate companies, CoStar researches. As a result of its professional photography and videography, it has helped Apartments.com provide attractive listings.

8. LoopNet.com

Entrepreneurs benefit from LoopNet.com's commercial listings, which are the best. Investors do not have to sort through house for sale or rent individually, which saves them both time and frustration.

As part of the CoStar Group, which owns several information and marketplace websites, LoopNet was founded in 1995 and has its headquarters in Washington, D.C. The platform is owned by CoStar Group. Investing in commercial property is the only purpose of LoopNet. It is not an app for searching for a home or apartment to buy or rent.

[childabusesurvivor]

There is More Than One Way to Stigmatize Mental Health Issues

New Post has been published on https://www.childabusesurvivor.net/reviews/2022/11/18/there-is-more-than-one-way-to-stigmatize-mental-health-issues/

There is More Than One Way to Stigmatize Mental Health Issues

We talk a lot about stigma in the mental health community. So much that you would think it shouldn’t be too much of an issue any longer. Not that there aren’t examples of people saying ignorant things about people with depression or bipolar, etc., but generally, it has become less acceptable to say those things in public. So, we’re eliminating stigma.

Not so fast.

The stigma that makes it acceptable to ridicule people about their mental health issues might be frowned upon now, but there are many other ways for stigma to show up. The Sydney Morning Herald shared some survey results that showed me that we still have a long way to go.

They didn’t ask about what you might say or not say to someone struggling with their mental health, it asked about some specific actions, and the results were not good.

The negative response was highest where the other person had long-term schizophrenia: 62 per cent of respondents would not want to “make friends with someone with this problem,” while 84 per cent would not want to “have someone with this problem marry in to family” and almost all (94 per cent) would not want to “have them look after your children”.

Most respondents don’t even want to be friends with someone with this diagnosis, and for more common diagnoses like depression, the numbers were only slightly better:

Rates of negativity and ignorance were also high when it came to more common mental health diagnoses, such as depression, which would make 25 per cent of people unwilling to consider a friendship, 52 per cent concerned by a prospective family relationship, and 77 per cent unwilling to let the person mind their children.

Yes, we’ve gotten better at not openly hating people with mental health issues, but we haven’t stopped discriminating against them in our day-to-day actions. When we talk about being stigmatized by friends and family members, this is what we’re talking about.

I wasn’t outwardly discriminated against by my friends when I was going through the worst of my depression. No one showed up to talk about how I was faking it or making fun of me for being weak. No, that would have required them to still show up in my life. The stigma came in from all the people who disappeared from my life. The friends who didn’t want to be around me, and the boss who watched me like a hawk for any sign my depression might interfere with my work in ways he didn’t watch anyone else. That stigma is going to be much harder to root out. It requires people to learn about something they are uncomfortable even thinking about. It’s impossible to educate about something while also fearing it to the point of not wanting anyone with a mental health diagnosis around you and your family.

Or, apparently, your work and house, either.

Stigma extended to public policy issues, with 43 per cent of people believing job applicants should disclose any mental health issues, and 21 per cent arguing it was “reasonable for landlords to avoid leasing to a tenant with a mental health problem”.

That’s a whole lot of people in this survey who are not OK with those of us who have struggled with mental health being their friend, a family member, around their kids, in a job or renting a place to live.

That’s some severe stigma.

  #Bipolar, #Depression, #MentalHealth, #Stigma

[bananaaccess]

Forest hills drive live from fayetteville nc zillow

#Forest hills drive live from fayetteville nc zillow plus#

Use our detailed filters to find the perfect place, then get in touch with the landlord. Despite the gravity of his subjects (and his sobering delivery), Cole-like his occasional collaborator Kendrick Lamar-is the rare artist who's managed to reconcile the conscious with the commercial, balancing his conceptual side with giant singles like “Work Out,” “Deja Vu,” and “ATM. Zillow has 0 single family rental listings in Forest Hills Fayetteville. Cole’s since gone on to release a string of ambitious, increasingly confident albums, often meditating on single subjects at length: 2018’s KOD, for example, offered a sustained look at addiction, while several songs on 2016’s 4 Your Eyez Only were written from the perspective of a friend killed in his early twenties after leaving the drug game-a composite of people Cole knew from childhood. The average rent for a 1-bedroom apartment decreased by -5 to 1,158, and the average rent for a 2-bedroom. Over the past month, the average rent for a studio apartment in Raleigh increased by 2 to 1,483. This is a 6 increase compared to the previous year. Jay dismissed him initially, but circled back a year or so later on the strength of Cole’s mixtapes, making him the first signee to the Roc Nation label. The average rent for a 1-bedroom apartment in Raleigh, NC is currently 1,158. John’s University, graduating magna cum laude while making beats on the side, at one point waiting outside JAY-Z’s studio for three hours to give him a CD. A North Carolina native (born in Frankfurt, West Germany, in 1985), Cole moved to New York City on scholarship to St. He takes on capital-T topics with an earnestness-and moral imperative-that most rappers seem to avoid. The current Trulia Estimate for 2010 Forest Hills Dr is 216,300. 2010 Forest Hills Dr was last sold on for 115,000 (0 higher than the asking price of 115,000). This property is not currently available for sale. Cole emerged in the 2010s as a kind of torchbearer for serious hip-hop. 2010 Forest Hills Dr, Fayetteville, NC 28303 is a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom single-family home built in 1965. Cole (CD, Jan-2016, Roc Nation) at the best online prices at eBay Free. Google it.Raised on 2Pac, Biggie, Nas, and JAY-Z, J. Find many great new & used options and get the best deals for Forest Hills Drive: Live from Fayetteville, NC PA by J. So what! If you’d like to learn more about Wilmington’s history, I suggest you check out the film “Wilmington On Fire” for the historical accuracy of Wilmington, NC. Otherwise, Forest Hills is just a neighborhood that stretches across Market Street- from just past 23rd St, into the ‘gated-looking’ section of where the wealthier caucasian people used to live in a walled- off section. There are also five parks within 6.8 miles, including Duke Lemur Center, Duke Gardens, and North Carolina Museum of Life and Science. Here you’ll find two shopping centers within 2.0 miles. Tap water is used to make soda, coffee, teas, sauces, etc.so you will need to be hyper vigilant. The Forest Apartments is located in American Village in the city of Durham. But DONT DRINK THE WILMINGTON TAP WATER, because it’s contaminated with GenX and PFOAs, etc.

#Forest hills drive live from fayetteville nc zillow plus#

I recommend walking around downtown Wilmington, where the historic houses are everywhere, plus you have stores and restaurants. Find out who lives on Forest Hills Dr, Fayetteville, NC 28303. Its’s just a quasi-elite neighborhood with higher taxes, where those with more $$$ live. I suppose you could walk through Forest Hills, as they have sidewalks.but you can drive through more easily. Forest Hills is just an area in Wilmington where older houses with larger parcels of land exist.

[puttingherinhistory]

“Covid has unleashed the most severe setback to women’s liberation in my lifetime. While watching this happen, I have started to think we are witnessing an outbreak of disaster patriarchy.

Naomi Klein was the first to identify “disaster capitalism”, when capitalists use a disaster to impose measures they couldn’t possibly get away with in normal times, generating more profit for themselves. Disaster patriarchy is a parallel and complementary process, where men exploit a crisis to reassert control and dominance, and rapidly erase hard-earned women’s rights. (The term “racialized disaster patriarchy” was used by Rachel E Luft in writing about an intersectional model for understanding disaster 10 years after Hurricane Katrina.) All over the world, patriarchy has taken full advantage of the virus to reclaim power – on the one hand, escalating the danger and violence to women, and on the other, stepping in as their supposed controller and protector.

I have spent months interviewing activists and grassroots leaders around the world, from Kenya to France to India, to find out how this process is affecting them, and how they are fighting back. In very different contexts, five key factors come up again and again. In disaster patriarchy, women lose their safety, their economic power, their autonomy, their education, and they are pushed on to the frontlines, unprotected, to be sacrificed. 

Part of me hesitates to use the word “patriarchy”, because some people feel confused by it, and others feel it’s archaic. I have tried to imagine a newer, more contemporary phrase for it, but I have watched how we keep changing language, updating and modernising our descriptions in an attempt to meet the horror of the moment. I think, for example, of all the names we have given to the act of women being beaten by their partner. First, it was battery, then domestic violence, then intimate partner violence, and most recently intimate terrorism. We are forever doing the painstaking work of refining and illuminating, rather than insisting the patriarchs work harder to deepen their understanding of a system that is eviscerating the planet. So, I’m sticking with the word. 

In this devastating time of Covid we have seen an explosion of violence towards women, whether they are cisgender or gender-diverse. Intimate terrorism in lockdown has turned the home into a kind of torture chamber for millions of women. We have seen the spread of revenge porn as lockdown has pushed the world online; such digital sexual abuse is now central to domestic violence as intimate partners threaten to share sexually explicit images without victims’ consent. 

The conditions of lockdown – confinement, economic insecurity, fear of illness, excess of alcohol – were a perfect storm for abuse. It is hard to determine what is more disturbing: the fact that in 2021 thousands of men still feel willing and entitled to control, torture and beat their wives, girlfriends and children, or that no government appears to have thought about this in their planning for lockdown. 

In Peru, hundreds of women and girls have gone missing since lockdown was imposed, and are feared dead. According to official figures reported by Al Jazeera, 606 girls and 309 women went missing between 16 March and 30 June last year. Worldwide, the closure of schools has increased the likelihood of various forms of violence. The US Rape Abuse and Incest National Network says its helpline for survivors of sexual assault has never been in such demand in its 26-year history, as children are locked in with abusers with no ability to alert their teachers or friends. In Italy, calls to the national anti-violence toll-free number increased by 73% between 1 March and 16 April 2020, according to the activist Luisa Rizzitelli. In Mexico, emergency call handlers received the highest number of calls in the country’s history, and the number of women who sought domestic violence shelters quadrupled. 

To add outrage to outrage, many governments reduced funding for these shelters at the exact moment they were most needed. This seems to be true throughout Europe. In the UK, providers told Human Rights Watch that the Covid-19 crisis has exacerbated a lack of access to services for migrant and Black, Asian and minority ethnic women. The organisations working with these communities say that persistent inequality leads to additional difficulties in accessing services such as education, healthcare and disaster relief remotely. 

In the US, more than 5 million women’s jobs were lost between the start of the pandemic and November 2020. Because much of women’s work requires physical contact with the public – restaurants, stores, childcare, healthcare settings – theirs were some of the first to go. Those who were able to keep their jobs were often frontline workers whose positions have put them in great danger; some 77% of hospital workers and 74% percent of school staff are women. Even then, the lack of childcare options left many women unable to return to their jobs. Having children does not have this effect for men. The rate of unemployment for Black and Latina women was higher before the virus, and now it is even worse. 

The situation is more severe for women in other parts of the world. Shabnam Hashmi, a leading women’s activist from India, tells me that by April 2020 a staggering 39.5% of women there had lost their jobs. “Work from home is very taxing on women as their personal space has disappeared, and workload increased threefold,” Hashmi says. In Italy, existing inequalities have been amplified by the health emergency. Rizzitelli points out that women already face lower employment, poorer salaries and more precarious contracts, and are rarely employed in “safe” corporate roles; they have been the first to suffer the effects of the crisis. “Pre-existing economic, social, racial and gender inequalities have been accentuated, and all of this risks having longer-term consequences than the virus itself,” Rizzitelli says. 

When women are put under greater financial pressure, their rights rapidly erode. With the economic crisis created by Covid, sex- and labour-trafficking are again on the rise. Young women who struggle to pay their rent are being preyed on by landlords, in a process known as “sextortion”. 

I don’t think we can overstate the level of exhaustion, anxiety and fear that women are suffering from taking care of families, with no break or time for themselves. It’s a subtle form of madness. As women take care of the sick, the needy and the dying, who takes care of them? Colani Hlatjwako, an activist leader from the Kingdom of Eswatini, sums it up: “Social norms that put a heavy caregiving burden on women and girls remain likely to make their physical and mental health suffer.” These structures also impede access to education, damage livelihoods, and strip away sources of support.

Unesco estimates that upward of 11 million girls may not return to school once the Covid pandemic subsides. The Malala Fund estimates an even bigger number: 20 million. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, from UN Women, says her organisation has been fighting for girls’ education since the Beijing UN women’s summit in 1995. “Girls make up the majority of the schoolchildren who are not going back,” she says. “We had been making progress – not perfect, but we were keeping them at school for longer. And now, to have these girls just dropping out in one year, is quite devastating.” 

Of all these setbacks, this will be the most significant. When girls are educated, they know their rights, and what to demand. They have the possibility of getting jobs and taking care of their families. When they can’t access education, they become a financial strain to their families and are often forced into early marriages. 

This has particular implications for female genital mutilation (FGM). Often, fathers will accept not subjecting their daughters to this process because their daughters can become breadwinners through being educated. If there is no education, then the traditional practices resume, so that daughters can be sold for dowries. As Agnes Pareyio, chairwoman of the Kenyan Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Board, tells me: “Covid closed our schools and brought our girls back home. No one knew what was going on in the houses. We know that if you educate a girl, FGM will not happen. And now, sadly the reverse is true.” 

In the early months of the pandemic, I had a front-row seat to the situation of nurses in the US, most of whom are women. I worked with National Nurses United, the biggest and most radical nurses’ union, and interviewed many nurses working on the frontline. I watched as for months they worked gruelling 12-hour shifts filled with agonising choices and trauma, acting as midwives to death. On their short lunch breaks, they had to protest over their own lack of personal protective equipment, which put them in even greater danger. In the same way that no one thought what it would mean to lock women and children in houses with abusers, no one thought what it would be like to send nurses into an extremely contagious pandemic without proper PPE. In some US hospitals, nurses were wearing garbage bags instead of gowns, and reusing single-use masks many times. They were being forced to stay on the job even if they had fevers.

The treatment of nurses who were risking their lives to save ours was a shocking kind of violence and disrespect. But there are many other areas of work where women have been left unprotected, from the warehouse workers who are packing and shipping our goods, to women who work in poultry and meat plants who are crammed together in dangerous proximity and forced to stay on the job even when they are sick. One of the more stunning developments has been with “tipped” restaurant workers in the US, already allowed to be paid the shockingly low wage of $2.13 (£1.50) an hour, which has remained the same for the past 22 years. Not only has work declined, tips have also declined greatly for those women, and now a new degradation called “maskular harassment” has emerged, where male customers insist waitresses take off their masks so they can determine if and how much to tip them based on their looks. 

Women farm workers in the US have seen their protections diminished while no one was looking. Mily Treviño-Sauceda, executive director of Alianza Nacional de Campesinas, tells me how pressures have increased on campesinas, or female farm workers: “There have been more incidents of pesticides poisonings, sexual abuse and heat stress issues, and there is less monitoring from governmental agencies or law enforcement due to Covid-19.” 

Covid has revealed the fact that we live with two incompatible ideas when it comes to women. The first is that women are essential to every aspect of life and our survival as a species. The second is that women can easily be violated, sacrificed and erased. This is the duality that patriarchy has slashed into the fabric of existence, and that Covid has laid bare. If we are to continue as a species, this contradiction needs to be healed and made whole. 

To be clear, the problem is not the lockdowns, but what the lockdowns, and the pandemic that required them, have made clear. Covid has revealed that patriarchy is alive and well; that it will reassert itself in times of crisis because it has never been truly deconstructed, and like an untreated virus it will return with a vengeance when the conditions are ripe. 

The truth is that unless the culture changes, unless patriarchy is dismantled, we will forever be spinning our wheels. Coming out of Covid, we need to be bold, daring, outrageous and to imagine a more radical way of existing on the Earth. We need to continue to build and spread activist movements. We need progressive grassroots women and women of colour in positions of power. We need a global initiative on the scale of a Marshall Plan or larger, to deconstruct and exorcise patriarchy – which is the root of so many other forms of oppression, from imperialism to racism, from transphobia to the denigration of the Earth. 

There would first be a public acknowledgment, and education, about the nature of patriarchy and an understanding that it is driving us to our end. There would be ongoing education, public forums and processes studying how patriarchy leads to various forms of oppression. Art would help expunge trauma, grief, aggression, sorrow and anger in the culture and help heal and make people whole. We would understand that a culture that has diabolical amnesia and refuses to address its past can only repeat its misfortunes and abuses. Community and religious centres would help members deal with trauma. We would study the high arts of listening and empathy. Reparations and apologies would be done in public forums and in private meetings. Learning the art of apology would be as important as prayer.

The feminist author Gerda Lerner wrote in 1986: “The system of patriarchy in a historic construct has a beginning and it will have an end. Its time seems to have nearly run its course. It no longer serves the needs of men and women, and its intractable linkage to militarism, hierarchy and racism has threatened the very existence of life on Earth.”

As powerful as patriarchy is, it’s just a story. As the post-pandemic era unfolds, can we imagine another system, one that is not based on hierarchy, violence, domination, colonialisation and occupation? Do we see the connection between the devaluing, harming and oppression of all women and the destruction of the Earth itself? What if we lived as if we were kin? What if we treated each person as sacred and essential to the unfolding story of humanity? 

What if rather than exploiting, dominating and hurting women and girls during a crisis, we designed a world that valued them, educated them, paid them, listened to them, cared for them and centred them?“

[adventures-in-poly]

My interior monologue yesterday led me to the conclusion that I actually do think that multiple life partners makes sense, and is something I probably want, but multiple romantic/sexual partners makes less sense to me and kind of makes me feel physically sad in my blood.

Let’s see if I can recreate this.

Yesterday I drove 40 minutes away to help a friend buy a car. This friend has had their car totaled 3 times (each time not their fault), and has also had to move twice this year (each time because the landlord decided they wanted to move into the house the friend was renting), so it’s been... a time. The friend posted on Facebook that they needed help getting to the auto dealer, and I had nothing to do that day and it’s been a few months since I’d seen them, so I volunteered.

The friend is also practicing solo poly, although I think not by choice. They also have a swath of friends and several partners who are available to help out. I don’t remember if my friend considers themselves an extravert or an introvert, but if they’re an introvert, they’re damn well good at pretending otherwise.

This led me to the thought, “Can introverts really be solo poly?” Of course, yes they can (and I think my question could even have been rephrased as “Can introverts really be single?”, which, duh.) But as an introvert myself I can’t foresee it really working for me. I don’t have the same army of homies that my friend has. I have a few very, very emotionally close friends who I can rely on for any emotional needs. But let’s see. Let’s play count the friends. Sorry if I've forgotten anyone.

One lives 40 minutes away, has no car or driver's license, is a full time PhD student and teacher, and is caring for her dying father.

One lives an hour and a half away and is caring for her dying father.

One lives 2 and a half hours north and just had a baby.

One is that friend who lives 40 minutes away, and now that they have a car they might be able to actually help.

My boyfriend and his wife live an hour away; he works 6 days a week and she doesn't have a driver's license.

One lives an hour away.

One just moved to Seattle.

Two just moved to LA.

Two live in New York.

One lives only 20 minutes away, but has a child who is unvaccinated and is not meeting up face-to-face with anyone until he gets the vaccine.

One lives 40 minutes away and doesn't have a car, and I haven't relied on him for "I need help" things before so I don't know how that would work.

One lives 10 minutes away but doesn't reliably answer her phone.

3 live within 20 minutes of my house and have few complications. One of them travels a lot, and the other two are dating each other, so usually if one's away, they're both away.

And then there's Silver, my husband's partner, who actually could be a perfect person to rely on for help and seems completely willing to lend a hand, just I personally don't want to rely on them too much at this stage in our friendship because I don't want to feel like I'm using them.

So yeah, plenty of friends, maybe like 5 who I could ask for help if I am ever in a bind, so not nobody. But we've all got shit going on in our lives, and we've all got mental illnesses and what have you. So if I needed a lot of help pretty frequently, wearing out those 5 people who have no particular commitment to me would probably happen pretty fast.

The thing in my white-people-American-society is it's pretty much everyone for themselves, partners excepted. We're much more used to relying on partners when we need help. If I ever needed it, I'd just ask my husband (M). No question. And of course he can say no, at which point I'd turn to a friend, but the assumption with a partner is that they'll help you unless they can't. That assumption isn't there with friends, at least not in my configuration.

So I was musing on that and thinking, "But why do I always assume that M will be free? Why do we make that assumption with partners?" And I think that's sort of part of the unwritten contract with life partners. But then it doesn't necessarily make sense that one person and one person alone in your life will be able and willing to help you out at a moment's notice. Wouldn't it be better if I had a small handful of people to have that unwritten contract with? If my friends and I all lived closer and we all agreed to help each other out, or travel with each other, or hang out when one of us is bored? It could be as simple as a group text where someone puts out something they need, and the assumption is that someone in the group will meet it (not that somebody might be able to meet it if the asker is lucky).

That actually sounds lovely.

The thing about that contract is that there's no need for anyone to be romantically/sexually attached. Technically there's no need in our one-partner system either. It makes perfect sense to me that someone could marry their platonic friend, or even have that kind of contract with a family member. The legal and financial systems that are in place to privilege marriages should be opened up to accommodate any humans that want to dedicate their lives to each other, no matter what that configuration looks like.

This idea is not new. An issue that I have, though, is that when I see this kind of thing idealized about, it's pretty much always painted as a "poly utopia".

Even in my socialist, leftist, poly-friendly, queer, weirdo circles - who are totally sold on the ideas I've written about and, if asked, would absolutely argue for the decoupling of partnership and romantic/sexual feelings - seem to equate the two anyway. Why does a commune have to be poly? Why can't it be a cluster of friends who support each other and is poly-friendly? Here's the thing - it can, and not a single person I speak to would ever suggest that a member would have to be poly or romantically/sexually involved in order to be included. But we still talk as if that's a given. And that's what makes me uncomfortable.

Because I want a lot of the things that the poly community puts forward as an alternative to our mainstream society.

I just don't want that part.

[aspl1tl1fe]

So... wow

Well, I didn’t mean to go completely silent for an entire month, but in addition to still doing my housing search (remember that I am an agoraphobe) my computer monitor died a couple of weeks ago. It was still covered under warranty luckily, but it took some time to ship and examine before they decided to just give me a replacement, only for there to be some issues once I went to get the replacement that resulted in store credit, and finally getting a new screen. 

So life has been battering me over the head since the last week in September. I’ve been without heat from anywhere from 3 days til a week twice in this time, had no hot water during one of those no heat weeks, no air when climate change dialed the temperature back up to the 80s randomly, found out my roommate hasn’t been covering their half of the bills (and was also not giving my half of rent to our landlord when I gave it to him), am in the process of possibly severing ties with the last of my biological family and had a battle with a wolf spider that ended with a nice hysterical fit of crying because I don’t like killing things, couldn’t catch the guy as to not kill and also couldn’t put the guy out of his misery with just one hit. I also had a covid-19 scare Yipee!

The good news, I’m covid negative. I finally have the confidence to get out of a living situation that hasn’t been the best for my mental health. I’m eating and sleeping really well and having to hand wash my clothes and carry buckets of water from my kitchen to dump in the bathroom (I haven’t been able to use my dishwasher since March 2020, my kitchen sink since May 2020, and my washer went in April of this year.... guess who has a shitty landlord... me) along with doing pilates/stretches since March 2020 has me in much better shape. I’ve finally found a great therapist and am making so much progress that I’ve been in a store twice now on a Saturday afternoon for the first time in like 5 years and for a person with agoraphobia that’s a big deal. I also have a really great friend who told me that I needed to maintain my other methods of self care which includes simming and this simblr. 

So what does that mean for my followers?

First, I’m hoping to move some stuff to the back up blog this week so those also subbed there who’ve missed out on my old stuff will be seeing that again.

Next, I hope to get back to sharing the game pictures I already have soon, so new content will be coming up. 

Finally I’m super missing TS3 so I expect to get back into my game ASAP, and thus take even more pictures but most of all actually enjoy myself.

Wow this was super long. 

Thanks for all your patience and happy simming everyone... or whatever we’re doing in this crazy game when it’s not driving us crazy.

[prorevenge]

Mock my mother’s death? I bankrupt you.

So this could be a very, very long story. I’ll try to summarize where and when I can.

My now ex-wife Kate and I moved to an apartment in 2010. The house as a whole a renovated town house split between two sides with two apartments on the bottom and two apartments upstairs. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the apartment as it was a much older building that I had ever lived in but I quickly adjusted to the wood creaking throughout the night. On the initial walkthrough we noticed that the only problem was that there was a dip in the bathroom ceiling. The landlord, Jay, promised he would get fixed ASAP.

One year to the day when we moved in there was a loud crash at 4AM. The bathroom ceiling had collapsed and there was tiling and wood all over over the floor and in the bathtub. Now Kate was typically the aggressive one, while I was more passive and laid back, and she kept calling Jay throughout the day. When she got in touch with him at around 9PM she explained what happened and insisted that it be fixed immediately. He rebuffed with him yelling that his girlfriend was a lawyer and he didn’t need to do anything. Now this is where I got mad. I went outside and called him myself. I feigned a relaxed demeanor and at first he began trying to talk to me as a “bro” and kept saying “Dude, I’m gonna get someone out there but it’s gonna take a few weeks..” When he couldn’t sway me that way he began yelling about his girlfriend and her knowing the law. What he was unaware of was that I had read the tenant laws in my state and so as he tried to lie I waited until he was finished and I recited the law stating that, if an apartment was considered uninhabitable then the landlord needed to pay for the tenant to stay in a place until it was resolved. He tried to say that our upstairs neighbor Phil was the super but he wasn’t sure if he could get down there that night. He put me on hold, then came back a few minutes later and said that Phil and his girlfriend were out of state. I rang Phils doorbell and asked, with the Jay on speakerphone, if he was assigned as the super. He laughed and said “No.” Dejected, he said he would have people out there the next day (previously he said they were busy for at least three weeks). There’s more to this incident but it lead to two conclusions:

If you’re going to lie then there has to be a consistency in your lie AND make sure that the people you lie to DON’T communicate with each other.

This is where a feud started between me and my Kate versus him and his mother (she was the original landlord and gave the house to him so he could begin to profit.)

So forward to a year later. Jay stopped coming to the house and his mom began doing the pick-ups. Around this time my ex- and I had been laid off and we were working with social security for food, health, and housing insurance. We were approved for all three in April but we would not get the check until May. When our typical check wasn’t in the landlord’s mailbox he immediately gave a summons saying that he was taking us to court for eviction. The day we went to court he had no lawyer and, going before the judge, here’s the summation:

Judge: Does the defense have a means to pay within 90 days of non-payment? Us: Yes judge (hands over paperwork showing that he will be paid for April and May) Judge: I see no problem. They are breaking no laws. Why are we here? Jay: Well your honor, they have been bullying- Judge: I don’t care, unless they are breaking a law then this case is dismissed.

Suffice it to say Jay and his mother’s were NOT happy. Around this time in my life things were tumultuous. My mother, who had been battling lung cancer succumbed to it in June . This happened at roughly the same time his mom came knocking looking for payment. I explained that I would leave it in the mailbox when we got back from the funeral home and to please just respect my right to mourn. She took her fingers and began rubbing them together, pretending to play the smallest violin.

I will never forget what she said next “Oooh, my mommy just died. Woe is me. She probably had it coming. I don’t care if your entire family is dead. I want my money.” She smiled smugly, proud with what she had just said. I saw red and my heart jumped into my throat. I went, grabbed the check, and handed it to her in absolute shock that anyone would say something so...fucked up? She had finally managed to push a button that very few people I’ve known throughout my life have seen. I went into rage mode but not in the way you would expect.

THE REVENGE: We were always told that if a health inspector came by to not open the door. I waited until Aug. since that was when the lease was going to run out and we knew they would not extend a renewal. I walked up the block to town hall to ask for a health inspection of our property. It was scheduled for several days later. Now it’s important to know several things:

I was friends with all of the tenants. Phil had moved out with his fiancé but the new tenant was Dani upstairs in our side. Tom and Hana on the other side of the downstairs floor had moved out and Jay was still looking for new tenants. The only one who wanted to stay out of this was Rose on the upper right apartment.

I had gotten a key so I could let the inspector in Dani’s apartment and I knew that I could use the back staircase on the right side to let him in on Tom’s, now vacant apartment.

I also knew that Dani was moving out in September along with Kate and myself.

The inspector came and it was glorious. He checked the exterior of the house first noting that wires were exposed, there was an old empty dryer along with other odd clutter in the backyard. I bought him inside the shared entrance and, as I was counting on, he noticed that the last inspected dated back to 1994; 18 years. This meant that for each year he did not have an inspection there would be appropriate fines. For our apartment we had black mold growing in our bathroom and the bubble in the ceiling had begun to grow to problematic proportions. Upstairs, Dani’s apartment was suffering from leaks in the ceiling and it looked like her bathroom ceiling was also on the brink of collapsing. We then went to the basement. The boiler was on the verge of exploding, there was flammable items along with gasoline and a pack of matches sitting right beside it. Two things that I did not know was 1. The fire door that separated the two sides did not close all of the way rendering it moot and, on the right basement side there was a toilet. A toilet that had blown up. It had coated the surrounding walls and the leakage prevented us going up to the floor via the right side. The entire time the inspector was photographing and writing constantly.

We stepped outside and he said he needed to come back. When I asked why he said he had run out of space to write down all of the infractions (he had filled the front and had written an entire page on the back portion). I kindly and coyly asked “Well, how much will it cost right now?” He scratched his head and said “Around 20-30k from what I can see but it’s probably going to be higher as this house was never licensed to be split into apartments.” I thanked him and he was going to come back with the county inspector.

So we moved out and but I got the rundown from Rose. Because he was the current owner he owed all current fines and no one new could not move into the empty apartments until everything was up to code. Because three out of four were vacant he was losing 4,500 in potential rent. He handed the property back to his mother and had to claim for bankruptcy. Now here’s the other thing. Every time an old tenant left and a new one was coming in an inspection was supposed to be done. Now that all of the financial burden fell on her they looked into the records and was she was fined for each time she had broken that rule 750/per. By the end of the year Rose had moved out so the place was hemorrhaging money. I sat back, proud of what I had done, and left it be.

Haha, no, fuck that. I wasn’t close to done yet.

I felt like I had destroyed Jay but my real target had always been his mom. I learned that she had about eight properties throughout three towns in my county. I went to each one, spoke to the tenants, and said I was a concerned tenant from another property and asked if they had any problems with their apartments. EVERY person I asked described the apartment in very poor to intolerable levels and that the mom was effectively a slumlord. She would ignore problems unless someone turned to litigations, she was threatened that they would summon the inspector, or, more often than not, the people would move out, she’d refuse their deposit, and sink those into repairs. People rarely fought back because she knew that the occupants were of upper, lower class minorities. So, being the concerned person I was, I want to the inspector of the other two towns and asked for an inspection to be done with at least one, if not more, would be awaiting the inspector when they came. Turns out that she faced pretty much the same infractions on every apartment she owned. It turned out she actually had 12 apartments but I initially only knew about the ones that fell within my county. The remaining properties in the next county over were given a heads up for a surprise inspection. From what I can tell Jays mom had been in the landlord business for about 35-40 years. That collapsed quickly.

Since we moved literally one block down the road from our old one I got to see Jay lose his primary source of income and have to claim bankruptcy BUT also saw that his mother was also trying desperately to find a buyer for all of the apartments so she could pay off the fines. I learned two years later that she too had to file for bankruptcy. Jay and his mother camped out in front of our next apartment two days in Oct. of 13 before she filed for bankruptcy (I’m guessing to scream at me and/or Kate) so I called the cops and said that there were strange people standing in a no parking zone and they kept looking up at the second floor. A cruiser swung by and told them to leave.

I know I should have used the two months I spent monitoring everything to find a new job but this was the one and only time I wanted to cripple a person where they hurt the most; their wallets. I think I got my point across. None of this would’ve happened if you had just fucking fixed the ceiling before it collapsed Jay!

Th;dr: Had a couple of slumlords, they pushed me to a place where I snapped, and so I went a bit crazy and bankrupted the slumlord AND his slumlord mother as well.

(source) story by (/u/Theliterside)

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Prologue: History

Characters: OFC (Shane Benton), OMC (Elliott Thomas)

Summary: Shane Benton is a hard-working physical therapist and a loving girlfriend…but her boyfriend has a less than desirable way of showing it.

In case you’ve fallen behind or want to read more of my drabbles!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, angst, infidelity, domestic violence (moderate). Yeah, this may be a tad rough for some readers, but I tried to be mild, and mostly implicit. It was hard still, to see my fictional offspring go through this, even if she gives as good as she gets!

Author’s Note: Oh, y’all. When I needed a break from the sweet tenderness of Chapter 8, I came here and put Shane through some hell. (You can blame one of my friends I was talking about for this angst as they’re the one who put me into angsty headspace by cheating on my other friend! It’s been weighing on me! But I guess at least I’ve been able to use it!) I really hope you enjoy a bit of backstory on our heroine! I really liked writing her ferocity.

Also, I meant to have this posted yesterday, but because of some tragedy in one of my other fandoms (and the world, in general! Rest In Power, Chadwick Boseman!) and a bit of craziness in my personal life (my HS bestie wanted to hang out this weekend, so I spent a lot of time with her…also…I’ve been talking to a real live fella! OMG! And it’s entirely too soon to say that I like him, but like…I very much do…but he’s far away and recently single and things are complicated in just, several ways, so it just can’t happen at this point. But…like, we have been talking a ton recently, and…sigh. I have found it difficult to focus on the matters at hand. But, rest assured, I’m working on Chapter Nine, and it will be up just as soon as I find my rhythm!

Disclaimer: Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. (Well, this isn’t a super fun chapter, I guess!)

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! (Also, if you’ve asked and aren’t on the list...well...that would be because I forgot to add you and reminding me will not offend or upset me. I think I might have ADD, or something, and being reminded about things is kind of how I survive!) Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X

5 years ago-

Shane got home from work, exhausted. The new electronic documentation system they'd just implemented was kicking her ass. And Anita's, whom she constantly had to help with it, all the while hearing Anita bellow "When can I retire?!" which lost its charm on about the third day.

"Elliott, I'm home." She didn't smell anything cooking, despite the fact that she knew he was off all day today. Whatever. She was used to him doing virtually nothing but whatever hipster bullshit he got up to on Instagram and YouTube, trying to get off the ground as an influencer with a brand…spare her. Since when did that become a job? She didn’t mind to get takeout though, if only she knew he wasn’t cooking. Maybe she should have asked. "Honey, I could have picked something up if--" she was startled by him in the doorway to the hall, in only his anime boxers, looking like he was trying to not be surprised she was home. "What?"

"Nothing, just…excited to see you! How was your day?" Elliott asked, scratching the back of his neck, displacing his mid-length, slightly moppy light brown hair, already disheveled. That was his tell. Something was up. She knew it.

"What's going on? Are you hiding something from me?"

"Why would you ask me that? Don't you trust me, baby?!" he guilted. Knowing just the buttons to push for empathy. It wasn't gonna work today. The machine was all out of that selection and full of his bullshit currency.

"Now that you mention it, no. I sure as hell don't." she walked around to enter the hall and investigate the rest of the house. "Let me through." he wouldn't budge. He had the advantage of physical size, but she was still wearing her work uniform including sneakers…he was more than half naked. She stomped hard on his instep and smacked him in the ear as he doubled over. She felt marginally bad for that in the moment…at best he'd get mild tinnitus for a while. At worst, he could have permanent hearing damage. She'd check later for blood coming out of his ear and see if she should feel worse about it then.

She rounded the corner to their bedroom. The quilt her grandma had made her was carelessly crumpled with the top sheet and blanket at the foot board. She noticed a swatch of an orangey red lipstick on her pillow. The same shade smudged onto the full mouth of the panicking strawberry blonde frantically donning clothes in front of her antique mirror, and the same shade, she was guessing, that was smeared across certain places on Elliott’s body that were now covered by those boxers that she had always hated. You know what, Elliott, she thought to herself. Fuck Bleach, and fuck you!

"I'm sure you're a lovely person who's just been lied to by a very charming and manipulative man, but…you still only have ten seconds to get to my front door before I call the cops." Shane threatened the girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty-one…and he was thirty-three.

"She's my guest." Elliott defended.

"You're not even on the lease. Your credit was too bad." she said over her shoulder while still squared off with the girl. She turned back to her. "I'm trying to be calm here, sweetie. But do not make me tell you even one more time to get out of my…fucking…house." the girl picked up her shoes and a small messenger bag from the floor near where Shane stood, keeping as wide a berth as she could, and skittered out of the room in terror.

"How many times, Elliott?"

"Don't do this, Shane."

"No, I think this is something we should do. Count the times you’ve broken my trust. Kissed another girl, fooled around with one, fucked one…I mean…I've never caught you in our bed before, so this LOOKS like a first…I sure hope it is…because I don't recall you doing any laundry since you've lived here. And if I thought you let me sleep in the same sheets that you…I can't even look at you, you son of a bitch."

"It's not what you think, Shane." he said, calmly, as if he'd simply picked up the wrong consistency of peanut butter from the store. The wrong brand of milk. Not that he ever did the shopping.

"Bullshit. Bull. Shit. Elliott. I come home and find you like this, and there's a girl in OUR bedroom, and her lipstick is all over MY pillow, and your balls, no doubt. Not gonna make you prove it, because at this point, I don't give a shit anymore. I've lost count of how many times I've forgiven you, even times you didn't care enough to ask me to. Times you probably don't even know that I know about. But it's done. You're gonna pack up all your things. And you're gonna be gone by the time I get home from work tomorrow. And don't expect me to be late…because I will not be."

"You're acting crazy. You can't do this. Where will I go, Shane?"

"That's not my concern anymore. Find an apartment that accepts Likes and subscriptions and followers as rent and cherish it. But your free ride here is done. I'm not your mom, your maid, your cook, or…anything to you anymore, Elliott."

He was getting angry now. His nostrils flared and his breaths came more quickly.

"Is this because you're fucking another guy? Hmm?" he got in her space, but she was out of the bedroom and back into the hallway. She shouted back.

"Oh, NOW you're gonna try to deflect this onto me? When in holy hell would I have time to get with anyone but you, when we don't even have sex anymore?! It's been, what, two, three months?"

"You work with guys."

"You have no idea who I am. To think that I would do something like that. No idea at all. If I don't have time at home, I certainly don't have time for sex at work, and you can ask any of my coworkers, male OR female. That place is an unsexy, unholy shit show 90% of the time. And the other ten, it's just above bearable."

"Well, I'm still not going anywhere."

"You are. Like I said. You're not on the lease. And all I have to do is call the landlord and tell him you're here without my permission and he'll have the cops here." she had gotten a glass of water…although she needed something stronger, and was standing by the sink with it. Her mouth was getting dry. She couldn't take much more of this without breaking.

"You wouldn't really do that to me though. I'm the only man who can give you what you want." he grabbed her by the arm, hard.

"Let go of me, Elliott."

"Or what." he asked for it. She got the other instep, his groin, and threw water in his face. She grabbed her purse and bolted out the door.

She got quickly on the phone with Heather her closest friend who had recently been hired on as a secretary for her clinic.

"Yello." she said, cheerful.

"Two things: can I crash at your place tonight and what kind of phone do you have?" she asked.

"Yes and a Galaxy something, I dunno, but what the fresh hell are you talking about?"

"I'll explain when I get there. I’m on my way to CVS for some essentials. Do you need anything?"

"Sounds like we need wine and ice cream!"

"Already on the list." She thanked Heather and hung up, calling her landlord.

“This’s Sam.” She heard over the receiver.

“Sam, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a situation at the house.”

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked concerned. She’d never rented from anyone so kind. He’d become almost family. Like an uncle.

“Long story short, pest control. I’m kicking Elliott out and he has until the time I get home from work tomorrow. I told him you’d be there with the cops if he didn’t comply because he’s not on the lease. Is there any way you can help me and make that good?”

“He hurt ya, Shane?”

“Not, umm…not physically.” Although she had been rubbing the place on her arm where he’d grabbed her, certain there would be a bruise.

“That’s all I need to know. I’ve got a buddy or two on the squad here in town. I’m sure they won’t mind to help me out. You need anything?”

She held back the tears until she could hang up. “I’m staying over at a friend’s tonight and headed into CVS now for a few things I didn’t take time to grab after I kneed him in the groin and ran out.” She had just pulled into the parking lot.

“Well I’m nearby if you need anything when you’re back home.”

“Thanks. I guess just watch for smoke from the place for now. I don’t know what he might do, honestly.”

Up Next: Prologue: Onset of Injury (Sy)

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro is being kicked out of his apartment and he doesn’t know where he could go on short notice. Mahiru lets Kuro stay in his guest room. (KuroMahi, Neighbours AU)

“I’m glad that I made it to the store in time for the sale rush.” Mahiru spoke with his friend over the phone. He pulled several bags out of his car and joked, “I think I bought too much food though. If you can see me now, you’ll laugh. Do you and Tetsu want to come over and eat? Oh, you already have dinner plans with him. It’s okay, Misono. Enjoy your date with him.”

He set the bags down from a moment so he could free his hand to end the call. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed someone park in the spot next to him. He recognized the car as Kuro’s and Mahiru stepped back to give him enough space to leave his car. He waved to him and greeted him with a bright smile. “Hello, Kuro. Are you coming back from work?”

“Gear asked me to pick up his shift because he wanted to watch a movie with Youtarou. I didn’t want to see them being all lovey-dovey so I decided to take his shift. I’ve known Gear for years and I’ve never seen him as happy as he is now. It’s kinda’ unsettling.” Kuro said and pretended to make a horrified expression. Next to him, Mahiru giggled.

His heart skipped a few beats when Kuro reached out to him. He didn’t touch his face like he expected but picked up one of his grocery bags. Mahiru tried to hide the slight disappointment he felt. “You bought enough food to feed twenty people. Do you need help carrying these? You live next door to me so your apartment is on the way.”

“Oh, thank you, Kuro.” Mahiru blushed at his own thoughts. They were neighbours and they went to the same university so they had gotten to know each other. He thought of asking Kuro on a date but he didn’t know if he was interested as well. “Let me cook something to thank you. You’ll get free food and avoid walking in on the two kissing. I heard Gear yell at you the last time you accidentally interrupted them.”

“Your apartment has become a safe haven lately.” While he jokingly complained about his friend, Mahiru knew the two were close. Kuro carried most of the bags and Mahiru had to admire how strong he was. “Gear’s troublesome but we’ve been friends since we were six years old and he punched me for accidentally stepping on his flowers. I don’t know what that says about me.”

“I think it shows that you’re a good person who doesn’t judge others.” Mahiru said as they stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button to their floor and leaned back against the wall. “What do you want to eat for dinner? I’ve been practising a lot of new dishes since I moved to London. It would be nice to have a London boy try it to tell me if it tastes authentic.”

“I’ll gladly volunteer my services, Love. I already fancy your cooking.” Kuro said in English and his accent was alluring. He returned to speaking in Japanese when he added, “Everything you cook tastes great so I don’t mind being your test rat with food.”

“You make it sound like I’m doing experiments on you.” He laughed and jokingly punched his arm. Mahiru had moved halfway across the world to attend a university in London. Between the new language and the change in time zone, Mahiru had trouble adjusting at first. Kuro spoke Japanese so he helped him become comfortable in the new city.

The elevator’s bell rang and signalled that they had reached their floor. They continued to talk as they walked down the hall and Kuro found himself staring at Mahiru’s lips. The casual smile he always wore could rival the sun in its brightness. Kuro liked to spend time with him. He was a reserved person so he didn’t have many friends but something about Mahiru drew him to him.

“I should text Gear and tell him that I’m having dinner at your place.” Kuro said. Before Mahiru could take out his keys to let him in, the door next to them opened. He was slightly confused when Gear walked out since he thought he would still be busy with his date.

“You’re back late. I’m guessing you ended your shift on schedule but took your time walking up here.” Gear said pointedly and looked from him to Mahiru. Kuro hoped that Mahiru wouldn’t read too much into his words. He had told his friends about his feelings for Mahiru and he was starting to regret doing so. He was glad that Gear moved on to say, “There was something I need to talk to you about.”

“Are you going to yell at me for leaving dirty dishes in the sink? I’ll wash them after I finish helping Mahiru with these grocery bags.” Kuro told him. While he was speaking with Gear, Mahiru unlocked his door and waited for him in the entrance. He didn’t know how long their conversation would be but Gear’s expression made him think that it was something serious.

Kuro and Mahiru were both shocked when Gear said: “I’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

“What?” Kuro and Mahiru yelled at the same time. Despite how curt and ungraceful Gear was with his words, they were good friends who rarely had a serious fight. He couldn’t think of anything that would make him kick him out of the apartment. Kuro was the first to recover from the shock and asked, “Did the landlord say something about the cat I sneaked into the apartment?”

“Yes, but that’s not the reason. Since Youtarou’s grandmother died, the lawyers are arguing over which relative gets the cottage he shared with her. He needs a place to stay and I said he could live with me. The apartment’s close to the university so it’ll be easier for him to travel.” Gear explained. Kuro understood that he would want to help Youtarou but he wished he discussed it with him first.

“I want to help Youtarou too but you can’t kick me out without any notice. The apartment only has two rooms but he can sleep in your room. I don’t mind if Youtarou moves in.” Kuro tried to compromise with Gear. “My family lives cities away so I can’t stay with them on such short notice. You know I don’t have the money to rent a hotel while I’m searching for a new place to stay either.”

“I can give you back the rent money you gave me this month.”

“Why are you kicking me out so suddenly? You can’t be that heartless.”

“Excuse me,” Mahiru placed his bags on the ground and then stepped between them. He didn’t know why Gear would kick him out but he didn’t want them to fight. He placed his hands onto Kuro’s chest and the light touch seemed to calm Kuro. “You two shouldn’t fight in the hall. We’re all mature adults here so let’s talk about this. Gear, do you really think Youtarou wants you to kick out your best friend?”

“I didn’t ask. He’s already under a lot of stress because of his grandmother’s passing and I don’t want to put more problems onto him.” Gear’s voice was flat as he spoke. Mahiru looked worriedly at Kuro and he wondered how he would react. He must’ve been hurt to be pushed away by a friend so callously. At the same time, Mahiru didn’t think Gear was the type to abandon a friend.

Mahiru took Kuro’s hand and said, “I know a solution! Thinking simply, Kuro can stay in my apartment while he searches for a new place to stay. I have an extra room that you can use. You should go get your stuff and move them over tonight. I’ll go prepare the room for you.”

Before Kuro could answer, Mahiru disappeared into his apartment. He didn’t know if he should accept his kind offer and groaned at the confusing situation. First, he needed to know why Gear would suddenly kick him out. They were friends and he knew that Gear was rarely cruel without a reason. He walked into the apartment he shared with his friend and faced him.

“What the hell was that about, Gear?” Kuro asked.

“Youtarou needs a place to stay and you need to do something about your feelings for Mahiru. This way, everyone wins.” Gear shrugged and then sat on the couch to read. He didn’t look up from his book when he added: “It was sad and tiring to watch you acting like a lovesick fool around him.”

“Wait, did you make a big scene of kicking me out on purpose? You did it in front of Mahiru so he would offer to let me stay. You’re the smartest person I know but you’re shit with words and personal stuff like this.” Kuro groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t stay with him knowing that it’s part of your scheme.”

Gear didn’t respond to his words but said: “Make sure to come over for our video game night every Friday.”

“Why can’t I have normal friends?” Kuro mumbled to himself as he walked the short distance to Mahiru’s home. The door was slightly ajar and he knew that Mahiru had left it open so he could carry his things into the apartment easily. Gear wanted to help him become closer to Mahiru but Kuro didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness. He had decided to talk to him and tell him Gear’s plan. Hopefully, he could do so without revealing his feelings.

He walked inside and he could hear Mahiru humming’s flow through the hall. Kuro followed his voice to the guest room. His eyes fell onto Mahiru standing in front of the closet. He was standing on his toes and stretching towards a thick futon on the top shelf. Mahiru’s back was turned to him so he didn’t notice that he had entered the room.

“How did I manage to get the futon on the shelf to begin with? It’ll be nice to finally have someone tall to help me with things like this.” He heard Mahiru muse to himself. He stretched a little further and his shirt rose slightly. Kuro found Mahiru attractive but he forced himself not to stare. He stood next to him and easily pulled the futon down from its place.

“You should know that it’s bad to keep your door open, Mahiru. A dangerous man could’ve walked. Luckily, you only have to deal with a stray cat who’s ‘tall enough to help you with things like this’.” Kuro repeated his words with a light laugh. His smile was subtle but Mahiru thought it was full of warmth. He placed the futon on the floor and Mahiru began to spread it out.

“I don’t have to worry about someone attacking me. You’re next door and I only need to scream for you to run to my rescue.” Mahiru said confidently. “I don’t have a proper bed in the guest room because people rarely stay over. My friends usually sleep on the pull-out couch. You’ll need a proper bed and we should buy one soon. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on a futon until then. Oh, where are your things?”

“I need to talk to you about moving in.” Kuro said. He sat down on the futon and Mahiru wondered why he had a guilty expression. “I don’t know why but Gear wanted to play matchmaker for us. He started a fight about moving out knowing that you’re the type of person who would take in a stray cat. I’m sorry that he caused you trouble. I’ll talk to him.”

“Matchmaker?” Mahiru had a slight blush on his cheeks as he sat next to him. He looked down at his hands on his lap and thought over what he should say to him. Admittedly, he was excited for Kuro to move in and spend more time with him. “I didn’t offer my home to you out of pity or anything like that. I thought you would make a good roommate and it’ll be fun to have someone to share a meal with.”

“Are you sure you want me for a roommate? I suck at doing chores.” Kuro faced him and their eyes met. A soft smile brightened Mahiru’s face as he lifted his pinky finger towards him.

“I’ll do the housework if you carry my grocery bags when we go out to buy food.” In answer, Kuro wrapped his pinky around his finger. “It looks like we’re roommates now.”

[creamypudding]

Woeful WIP Wednesday

I last touched this WIP in August 2020. It was for the AkuRoku beard event I had tried to get underway for World Beard Day which is annually on September 1st. I never finished the story because it was getting very technical with beard related care products and a lot of sex. Like a lot of it. I have notes where they fuck each other like 4 times? On the couch, in the shower, in bed. I don’t know why I stopped writing it. It’s outlined but I ran out of steam and interest.  As much as I am a smut-writing champion you’d be surprised how often I write stories only to run completely out of steam once I get to the smut. Go figure. In this story Axel and Roxas are in a long distance relationship and have a wager on who can grow the better beard. It is rated T and stops a bit before the ‘good stuff’ was going to happen. Word count - 2385 If you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know. Cheers.

Homecoming

The date, time, and location were set; 1st April, 6pm, Olga's—a favorite haunt of their family and friends’, and the best place to get Polish sausages. Roxas stood a little way down the road from the establishment, his two suitcases; a small one stacked on top of the large one, in hand as he looked at his reflection in his phone's camera. He brushed at his Banholz beard; big, bushy and grew to about his mid-chest. He had oiled, brushed, trimmed, and shaped it to look its best, for today was a monumental day. 6 months ago he had been dared to grow a beard by his boyfriend, Axel. Roxas had agreed but only if they would have a competition to see who could grow the best beard, to be judged by a panel of their relations and peers. 

Roxas thought himself ready and walked on, wheeling his suitcases along behind himself. This competition was the precise reason why Roxas now entered the cozy restaurant. It had been booked out for the occasion and was filled with family and friends who all greeted Roxas with raucous cheers of— 

“Roxas! You’re back!”

“Good to see you!”

“Is that really you under there?”

“Axel! Axel, your competition has arrived!”

The suitcases were tugged away from Roxas and the throng of people around him cleared revealing, there, across the space, standing at the head of a banquet table laden with bigos, golonka, pierogi, schabowy, placki, pączki and a range of drinks like compotes, oranżada, piwo, and żubrówka, was Axel in familiar jeans and a black shirt with flame motifs that Roxas had bought him as a gift two years ago. They looked at each other across the space.

Voices sang out, praising the magnificent beards they both sported.

Roxas saw Axel’s thick, dark beard; a Bandholz, like his own. They walked toward each other and stopped in the middle of the floor. Roxas craned his neck to look up, Axel smirked down.

“You look like a real Viking,” Axel said.

“You look like a mismatched pirate. Didn’t feel like dyeing your beard?”

“It’s too much red. Makes me look like a tomato. I’ll show you the photos of when I tried.” “Cool.”

They grinned at each other and Axel threw his arms around Roxas, lifting him off the ground in a tremendous hug. Roxas’ face got smothered in the scratchy beard but he still giggled and when he dropped back to the ground hooked his hands around Axel’s neck and gave him a chaste peck on the lips.

They pulled apart laughing a little. 

“That’s something new to get used to,” Axel commented, rubbing his lips.

Roxas nodded and threaded his fingers through Axel’s.

“Come on everyone,” Sora, Roxas’ half-brother, shouted over the crowd. “Now that both our competitors are here let's get the judging going and then eat!” Cheers of enthusiasm rose and Axel and Roxas were ushered before the panel. 

Roxas and Axel were examined in turn, their beards evaluated for physical appearance: thickness, length, feel. And then for popularity, which opened up to the entire group of assembled people.

Roxas grinned up wildly as he was crowned Beard King and received a victory parade amongst the shoulders of his friends to wild chanting before he was dropped on his ‘throne’, which was just a high backed chair in the middle of the banquet table laid out. He was presented with an enormous hamper of goodies relating to beard care and then Axel took his seat next to Roxas and everyone joined in on eating all the delicious food before them.

Much talk was had over dinner regarding Roxas’ time away—as he studied in a different state and only came back home over the summer and Christmas breaks. He was caught up in everyone else’s lives as well and then after three hours of eating, chatting, and boozing, wished everyone a good night as well as thanking everyone for crowning him king and coming out, and then he wheeled his luggage to Axel’s red Kia Cerato coup parked at the restaurants car park and got in to go back to their place.

“What does my liege want to do when we get home?” Axel asked, fondling the tip of Roxas’ beard as he drove along the street.

“I want to go through that basket of goodies with you, play with your beard, and play with you. I’ve missed you so much.” Roxas clasped Axel’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek.

Axel stroked him when he stopped his rubbing motion. “At least we get three long months of being together until you have to go back to college.��� Roxas groaned. “It’s going to be so good, even when I do have to go back because we’ll be able to video call and won’t have to keep this beard stuff a secret from one another anymore.”

Axel nodded. “Yeah. If I had known what we were getting into I might not have agreed to this. Six months is too long without seeing your… well… rugged face. I can’t really call you pretty now, can I? I didn’t actually believe you’d look so much older with a beard.” “C’mon, you didn’t even think I could grow one. Not that I know why. You’ve seen dad, he’s always had a really respectable circle beard.” Axel shrugged. “I guess I look at your baby face and just… could never picture it.” “I’ll make sure we take a lot of photos so you’ll never forget. Have I shown you photos of dad from when he didn’t have a beard? I get my baby face from him. Underneath his beard, you’d think he’s twenty years younger than he is.” “Can’t say I’ve seen those. So when you’re fifty you’ll look thirty?”

“You know it. I can be your baby-faced sugar-daddy.” Roxas cracked up laughing at Axel’s bewildered scowl.

“For one, you are only two years older than me, and two, at this moment I’m your sugar-daddy since I work.” “True, but once I finish my degree and start working I’ll make so much money that you’ll be able to go part-time and look after our fur-babies.”

A strangled noise left Axel’s throat. “This is why I love you so much. You’re willing to protect me from a grueling working life.” Axel quickly leaned over, Roxas also leaned in and they shared a small kiss.

Roxas giggled. “So tickly and hairy.” ----------------------------------------------------

They arrived at their small cottage-esque house which they were renting. It had an undercover carport, a disheveled wooden fence, dry grassy patches, and a dead flowerbed. The door opened up right to their living room. A hallway ran through the door on the right, leading to the two bedrooms, and bathroom, with a separate toilet, and to the left of the living room was a door which led to the kitchen and laundry. Their backyard was an overgrown monstrosity which Axel only tended to when the landlords came around for inspections. The house was drafty, they were pretty sure black mold grew in the vents in the laundry and bathroom, but it was affordable, small, and let them live together when Roxas came home over college breaks.

Axel helped Roxas get his bags out of the car, they stowed them away to deal with later and sat on their plush, tan faux-leather couch whilst rifling through the content of the prize basket.

“It was really nice of everyone to pitch in and get us this gift basket,” Axel said, pulling out a beard-care kit consisting of several brushes, some oils and waxes, and a few trimming essentials.

“What do you mean us? This is mine.” Roxas glared, but he couldn't repress the bubbling-inside grin.

“You're really gonna use all of this Beard Candy and King of Wood all by yourself?” Axel held up the respectively named balm tin and oil bottle.

Both of them giggled.

“I might.” Roxas grabbed for the bottle. “I am king of wood.”

“You're more candy, darling.” Axel snatched the bottle and shoved the tin at Roxas.

Roxas gasped with playful offended. “Not true. I am King Beard. Everyone thinks so. We had a vote, remember?”

“We did. You really want to keep all this to yourself though?”

“Nah. WHat’s mine is yours—Oooo! There’s dye and glitter!”

Axel looked at the packets Roxas held up and went diving into the basket. “Ribbons too. Who do you reckon snuck this stuff in?”

Roxas thought for a moment humming and hawing. 

“Sora!” they both shouted in unison and cracked up laughing.

Axel put the items he held down and got up. “You want anything, babe? Tea? Hot chocolate? Water?”

“A tall drink of something hot and sweet.” Roxas made eyes at Axel, who grinned broadly. 

A spark of lust ignited in Axel’s eyes. He stepped close to Roxas, bent down and kissed him, pushing him against the couch. The hairs against Roxas’ lips tickled. He wrapped his arms around Axel’s shoulders, pulling them chest to chest and Axel climbed up to straddle Roxas’ lap. Roxas pushed his tongue into Axel, who sucked gently. Both of them hummed and pulled apart. 

“I do actually want a drink though,” Roxas sniggered.

“On its way, sugarplum.” Axel slid off and headed to the kitchen.

Roxas’ cheeks were plump and hot from all the smiling. He had missed Axel so much. He listened to Axel banging away in the kitchen, as taps turned on and off, drawers and cupboards opened and shut, and container lids popped in and out of place. Roxas kept looking through the goodies in the basket. He really appreciate everyone's support, but most of all Axel's for doing this with him—even if they were pitted against each other. 

Axel talked to him from the kitchen. They talked about Roxas’ flight home, Axel's job and then Axel was back, carrying a tall mug of steaming liquid, gasped with whipped cream. He set that down on a coaster before Roxas and put a much more sensibly succeed mug down for himself, filled with what smelled like chili tea.

“It's so good to have your back, babe.” Axel leaned over and kissed Roxas, who cupped Axel’s cheek and stoked along where skin met beard. Roxas could taste the light spice on Axel's lips as he had been sipping his tea before he had come in.

Axel left small touches on Roxas’ arms, trailing up to his neck where slender fingers caressed and rubbed. Roxas melted into the touch and hungered with his kissing of his boyfriend.

Axel pulled away, licking his lips. “Have your drink. I slaved over it.”

“Oh, what hard work it was to push buttons, wait for water to boil, and open the fridge to get whipped cream out.”

“It was the hardest. I had to do it all without you there.”

Axel was being ridiculous but it twinged in Roxas’ heart. “Okay, I retract my previous sarcastic remark.” He grabbed his drink, snuggled closer to Axel, and licked at the cream and sipped, humming with appreciation.

Axel looked down at Roxas and simply said, “Yum.”

Roxas huffed out a small laugh and felt his cheeks turning pink. He was glad for his beard.

“You're giving me all sorts of ideas looking like that.” Axel quirked an eyebrow.

Roxas’ stomach knotted. Having been debited their webcam sessions made him feel excessively deprived of his boyfriend touch. “Kiss me.”

Axel obliged, leaning down, sucking Roxas’ lip onto his mouth for brief moments and then flicking his tongue over Roxas to lip, licking the cream off which gathered in his beard.

Roxas held his drink away from the both of them and gently pulled on the end of Axel's beard, drawing the other man in for another kiss. Roxas pulled away then, humming. “I've missed you, babe. Let's never have a comp like this again.”

“Your beard as itchy as mine feels?” Axel scratched at his chin.

Roxas chuckled. “No. It feels pretty good, but I mean the not being able to see each other bit.”

“Ahh, yeah. Agreed. I mean, this,” he brushed the fuzzy edge of Roxas’ beard, “is actually surprisingly attractive on you, but I get what you mean.” Axel leaned in and hushed against Roxas’ love, “Your voice in my ear is honey to me but seeing you touching yourself is my bread and butter.” Axel kissed Roxas behind his ear, making him shiver.

Roxas nuzzled Axel's cheek, making them both giggle because their beards tickled.

Axel clapped Roxas’ thigh. “C'mon, let's do some beard stroking and grooming. I want my beard to look like Nori from the Hobbit. Which dwarf do you want to be?”

Roxas laughed. They had been talking about the wacky beards of the dwarves from that movie trilogy for at least two months now. “Gloin. His beard is magnificent!, plus, I found a packet of beads at the bottom of the basket.”

Axel nodded. “All right, my glorious Norse God. Let's doll each other up.”

Roxas giggled with delight.

They spent the next two hours taking turns combing and braiding each other's beards. Roxas split Axel's dark, silky beard into three prongs, found done large clasps to target the end and hair-sprayed the shit out of the two outer parts of the beard to make them stand stiff and jut out from Axel's face.

Then it was Roxas’ turn. Axel sectioned parts off, braiding and beading the thick, wiry hair into the desired shape. 

They shared many kisses throughout and traversed down memory lane as they recalled the early days of growing out their beards and how itchy the first few weeks were. Thinking about it made both of them itch.

When their beards were all finished they took a photo as a keepsake.

“Are you sure you want to shave off our chin-curtains tomorrow?” Axel asked, touching Roxas’ dark blond hair.

Roxas burst out laughing. “Chin-curtains? Are you getting attached to yours? You've been doing nothing but complaining about it for months.”

“Well, I like all the touching. I like us sitting together and doing each other.” Axel couldn't keep a straight face as he said that.

Roxas rolled his eyes as he smiled brightly. “We can still touch each other no matter what.” He slid an arm around Axel's waist.

[omoi-no-hoka]

Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

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

It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.