#god. rent next year will be an entire 50% more than when i first moved in. these market price increases are Insane.

[orcelito]

Did some apartment unfucking

Done in a very stressed hour and a half

But it is done.

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 2 Here!/ Part 3 Here! / Playlist Here!

* Sorry guys but this mans been living in my head rent free

* So the first time you see Satoru it’s with those black specs he likes to wear and you get a glance at those GORGEOUS eyes

* He meets your eyes for a second before looking away, it’s the briefest of interactions

* But your heart is racing and you can feel the familiar heat of attraction starting to lap at your face

* ‘He looks just like a prince’ you think

* You find out pretty fast the ‘prince’ similarities stop at appearance

* “Ah it’s not my fault you’re so weak~” You hear him say with the princely smile as he teases Utahime

* It looks like he’s held something so high she can’t reach it

* “Try your best, if you drink plenty of milk I’m sure you’ll be tall enough one day~” he says before laughing with that same princely face

* “You shouldn’t pick on those that are weaker than you” Geto intervenes, somehow making the entire situation worse

* You watch as Gojo laughs

* You’re starting to think he might be the real curse you need to exorcise

* You continue watching him as Utahime tries to kick him in the crotch

* “You silly girl, did you forget there’s an infinity between us?” Cue Gojo’s “A-hahahahaha” laugh

* Yeah, he’s definitely a demon

* You keep your distance, Gojo’s beautiful and all, but you’re not dumb, you’ve heard about the Satoru clan.

* “Hey Geto-Kun, who do you think would win in a fight me or a lion?”

* Besides that guy is way too reckless, you’d rather not get all mixed up in that if you can help it

* You watch as Satoru takes his shirt off, his well defined chest glistening

* Still, you’re grateful for the show

* Little do you know the famous Gojo Satoru has taken note of you as well

* Naturally given his ability he notices everyone, but he especially takes note of you

* It’s not because you stand out, quite the opposite

* You blend into the background easily, supporting others when needed

* But not to the degree where you unable to defend yourself, or you’re sacrificing your own life for someone else

* He grins

* Looks like he found something interesting

* You’re at the vending machine eyes racking over the drink selection

* But there’s another thirst quenching sight right next to you, their hand resting on the vending machine, that princely smile aimed right at you-

* “So what do you say?” Satoru asks, and you start to wonder if that princely smile seems just a bit wolfish “Do you want to be my lover?”

* You’re kind of annoyed

* What an impetuous question, you can count on one hand how many times you’ve spoken to each other, and you only need both hands to count the words said in each of those encounters

* “No”

* You turn your attention back to your drink choices, it’s pleasant weather so you don’t want anything hot.

* Anything carbonated is out of the-

* Gojo moves closer, peering into your face with that grin

* Ugh does he have to stand so close

* “Why ‘no’? I know you think I’m attractive”

* “I also think you’re a womanizer with a god complex”

* And really why shouldn’t he be?

* He’s probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life, not to add the sheer power he contains in that body of his

* But just as he has the right to be a womanizer with a god complex, you have the right not to take part in that narrative

* He backs away, leaning back against the wall

* So he’s not going to deny it

* Well, at least he’s somewhat self aware

* Those clear blue eyes catch yours again, and you have to fight against every human instinct from showing any human reaction

* You turn back to the vending machine making your selection when a smile lilts onto his mouth

* “Friends then”

* “Just colleagues” you reply, grabbing your drink

* But as you walk by you push a canned beverage into his chest.

* It’s a can of green tea

* It’s his favorite drink

* He looks to you seeing a bottle glinting in your hand

* So you didn’t sacrifice your own thirst, but you also didn’t ignore his needs

* He feels that same wolffish grin curl onto his mouth

* “What an entertaining person”

* After that if you’re anywhere within a 50 feet radius of him he’ll go out of his way to get your attention

* “Oh wow, looking especially radiant this morning (Y/N/N)” he’ll say with a playful seductive wink

* When you don’t respond he tries annoying you instead

* “Ah you can’t reach that? Here let me-” and then he’ll proceed to hold it even further out of your reach

* He’s expecting you to jump up and down, or at least give some sort of response but you just walk away

* Well that wasn’t what he expected

* He feels that grin spread across his face again

* Very interesting

* His attraction to you is pretty shallow

* He’s interested you because you’re entertaining

* And you’re entertaining because you aren’t interested

* Which only makes him that much more interested in you

* Its a paradox

* You watch him flounder around, annoying Utahime for a giggle

* Well it doesn’t matter anyway, you know how he is, he’ll get bored soon enough and lose all interest in you

* He’s not the strongest {f*ckboy} for nothing

* You see him turn to meet your gaze, offering a boyish smile and a wink

* You make sure not to give any reaction, turning to listen to something Shoko is telling you

* You hope he can’t sense the twinge of heat you feel on your face

* You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find the attention a little flattering

* I think for the most part you’re right, Satoru is mostly playing around-

* At least at first.

* You’re just something new and fun no one knows about, and wildly entertaining since you never respond the way he thinks you will

* You’re kind, but not at the expense of yourself, and he likes that

* Besides you’ve got this quite sort of consideration for others-

* It’s not flashy, it’s so subtle most people hardly notice

* It’s in the way you bring an extra snack for Utahime when she’s running herself ragged training

* “They were having a two for one special”

* Or the way you’ll get your teacher a plushie you saw at a shop at the station because you know he needs more

* “I just thought it was cute, but I haven’t got any room for another one”

* You’re quiet, someone who hears things and she’s things, but never says anything about them

* A wallflower

* But you’re not weak

* There’s something about those two things put together in the same person that entertains him to no end. Like a paradox or a puzzle he can’t seem to solve no matter how hard he tries

* Satoru’s had at least a hundred lovers, and a great many of them had provided him with their own brand of kindness and consideration

* But he’s never felt something as warm as when he see’s a lunch box in his dorm after he hobbles back from a mission that lasted a little longer than expected

* He peers at the note attached, it’s not even signed but he knows it’s from you

* “I know you think you’re god or whatever, but even gods have to eat”

* He doesn’t know why, but he’s overcome with the urge to cry

* He gulps hard- it’s not like this a lunch you made by hand or anything, it’s just something from the convenience store

* And it’s not like this note is particularly affectionate or special either, he’s gotten entire love letters from his previous lovers

* So he’s not sure why he saves your note, placing it behind a picture frame where only he’ll know it is , or why he thinks that convenience store lunchbox is the most delicious thing he’s ever had

* Even though he knows he cares about you, and that he’s grown quite fond of you -

* I don’t think it clicks for him

* And part of that is because well, he’s Gojo Satoru

* He collects lovers like some people collect photographs or memories

* They serve their purpose, and he lets himself be entertained by pretending all the feelings are real, and then he moves on to the next one

* It’s just what he’s used to

* And this whole paradox you two have going on could go on for a few years until something finally shifts

* He went a little too far with one his half-flirting-half-tormenting pranks

* And for the first time you give him a reaction, it’s only for a second, but annoyance and anger mar you face

* And then just like that, it’s gone and you turn and walk off in the other direction

* Sh*t.

* He went too far didn’t he?

* It should be fine right? You’re not too mad at him right? You’ll get over it-

* Right?

* But for the next few days you don’t speak to him, and you don’t make eye contact

* It bothers him more than it should

* Normally he would be annoyed that his toy would have the gall to blatantly ignore him like this-

* But this is different than that.

* He’s-

* He’s feeling regret

* He shouldn’t have acted that way to you, maybe if he had just done something differently, or said something differently-

* It’s not like the way things were between you two was ideal or anything,

* But at least then you would at least speak to him

* ... and every once in while he would get to see you smile

* It’s never at him, it’s mostly when you’re with Shoko or Utahime

* Occasionally when you’re with Nanami or Geto, who you’ve been talking to more recently

* He’s pretty sure you three are talking about him, just one day away from forming a “down with Gojo Satoru” club

* Still that smile when you laugh-

* The way you look so carefree and young and so full of life is worth all the slander in the world to him

* He needs to see that smile, to know something that wholesome and kind exists somewhere in this cruel world

* Satoru’s thinking about how to go about apologizing to you

* He’s caught between buying you a Lamborghini or buying you a special grade tool when he ends up running into you

* “Ah, could you help me with something?”

* He would quite literally give you the clothes on his back right now if you asked

* You stand up on a a chair holding a glass of water

* “Apparently this is supposed to help with concentration or something” You say pressing the glass full of water to the ceiling

* “Can you hold this broom?” You ask and Satoru nods, holding the broom handle steady as you make sure it’s pushed against the glass holding it steady

* You nod approvingly down at him

* The rest happens pretty fast, you’re off the chair, carrying it away

* “The broom is actually a special grade tool, so cursed energy won’t work on it”

* You grin

* “Have fun figuring how to get out of that Baka Prince!” You say with a laugh

* And Satoru is dumbfounded

* But not because you just pranked him into a holding up a glass of water with a broom

* But because as you were rushing away, you showed him your teasing grin

* It’s the first time you smiled at him

* And as he looks up at the glass of water, a smile slowly spreads across his face

* It’s not the wolffish smile he usually has when he’s around you, or the princely smile he uses when he’s trying to get something

* It’s a genuine smile

* Ah, so that’s it

* He’s fallen in love with you

* If you’re not the one entertaining him, then he’s just not interested

* Ah geez

* He was so focused on trying to get you to fall in love with him that he really didn’t see this coming

* Well he’ll have to start being serious about pursuing you now-

* Though for you to pull off something like this on him tells him you’re his ideal match without a doubt

* A wallflower with a mischievous streak, he likes that.

* He scratches his head with his free hand

* “I wonder how I’m supposed to get out of this?” He muses looking up at the glass full of water

[oldmanatom]

wrote a whole long post about how i “did” “NaNo,” thought i saved it to my drafts, came to post it tonight and it’s not there. that’s genuinely a bummer since i had other Thoughts™ baked into it, but i’ll take it as an opportunity to write a second draft version instead, now that i have my thoughts more together:

my version of NaNo, much like my version last year, was just to hit a word count goal with whatever writing i could scrape together. this year i set the goal lower than last year, and actually more or less hit it, which was cool and tbh surprising.

i’ve been resistant to writing to hit a word count in the past—seemed like an easy way to psych myself out, plus how i write (jumping all around the story/page/doc) makes keeping track of word counts annoying at best, challenging at worst—but succeeding last month made it far more appealing. i’m going to try and hit it again this month, to see if it might be a good way to keep myself on the writing...treadmill? hike? grind? [insert relevant metaphor here].

for the first time in literally (literally!) years, i’ve completed a first draft of something. it’s objectively not very good, and will need a lot of work—i didn’t know what the hell i was doing for 50% of it, and once i figured out what i was trying to do i didn’t know how to do it for the other 50%, and it took me basically the entire month to put it together brick by brick, so what i have now is about as scattered as you’d expect from that process—but it’s done, which means i can actually do that work and make those edits with a holistic view on what i’m working with, instead of, like, trying to fix the foundation as i’m also trying to build the frame and hang the drywall, so to speak.

thinking also about this post, and about that Terry Pratchett quote about how the first draft is just you telling yourself the story, and about how impossible it is to know and see everything there is to know and see about my story on the very first pass. this idea—that something being done is better than it being good when it comes to first drafts—is something that’s both obvious and easy to understand, and yet has taken me years to realize and more years to actually implement.

why? lots of reasons. one of them: i get stuck in write-edit cycles—write something, go back and edit it, write more, edit that and edit the other part to fit in with the new part, write more, etc etc. it’s a momentum killer. if i do that, i finish nothing, as i’ve proven over and over again over the years as i’ve started a million things and followed through on exactly none of them. trying to break myself of this habit has been a struggle, and mostly i lose, but i’m losing less often and less extensively than i was at the beginning, which i’ll take.

why care about this? lots of reasons. one of them: i am extraordinarily tired of looking at my folders full of bits and pieces stuck in Google docs that get forgotten about and left to collect virtual dust. they might be “good,” but i’m not satisfied with just writing them and letting them sit and do nothing, like some sort of dragon’s hoard of words. i am, regardless of how i feel moment to moment, a decent writer; if nothing else, i’m writing things that i like to read, and that i’d like others to read; i should find a way to bridge the gap and finish these off into something i can share.

(feeling like nothing’s ever done enough to share is its own point which i’m still trying to figure out, and which might be the next meta “thing” i tackle on the first edit/second draft of this piece. how much can one oneshot teach me? is it wise to make this into The Little Story That Could? i guess we’ll find out.)

one thing i’ve been learning as i’ve been trying to put this idea into practice, which will absolutely sound sappy but keeps proving itself true: my story’s going to teach me as i go. it’s going to tell me what needs to happen with the plot and characters and everything else, and it’s going to do that regardless of whether or not i have a 19 page scene-by-scene outline or a conversation i like, an image in my head of the scene, and a vague idea of what i want to happen next. and, whatever i miss on the first round i can pick up and work on in the next rounds. but it only teaches me if i keep writing it, unfortunately.

basically: it doesn’t have to be good, it just has to be done. that’s it. that’s the only requirement of a first draft: that it be complete. just keep writing until the damn thing’s finished. polish comes second. i keep repeating this like a fucking mantra, like something you’d chant to yourself to get through a root canal or the last hour of a truly terrible shift, and honestly that’s what it feels like half the time, but it worked once, so who’s to say it won’t work again.

i think there was a third point in my original post, but i can’t remember it so i guess it can’t be that important. i’ll end with a few quotes from this past month of NaNo, entirely from that draft, which is partly because that was 80-90% of my writing this past month and partly because the other 10-20% is stuff that i’m likely going to be posting soon (yes, i do have plans to post something soon, sorry @ my poor neglected writing sideblog). without context, because i think that’s funnier—

1.

To your eternal shame, you can't actually manage to look up at the woman you know is standing in the doorway, one sandaled foot through the threshold and leaning heavily on the Death First to Solicitors and Thieves doormat. Instead, you glance partway over and see weak, yellowish light spill out from inside, cascade over the porch steps, and reach with dim and blunted fingers out towards her soaked half yard. You trace the watery edges of it with your eyes instead of looking at her, and it's a coward's move but that relief is back again, so.

"Harrow?" she says, barely audible over the pounding water around you.

You remember, then, when you told her ages ago that her vintage standing lamp needed its bulb replaced and the two of you had gotten into a nice little row over well, it's not dead yet, now is it, and where the hell am I supposed to find another weird filament bulb like that, and who exactly decided to get the damn antique showpiece thing anyways. It's entirely unsurprising that after all these years it's still the same almost-flickering bulb stuck in it, that it's somehow still alive and managing to bleed light out onto this miserable scene.

2.

Being shorn down to your shirts and jeans and socks makes you wrap your arms around yourself again. No longer having five pounds of wet denim on your shoulders lets your body remember what warmth is, and more importantly reminds you that you have none, and so what had been a vague shaking for the last hour turns into full-on shivering, teeth clacking and everything. You ask, not for the first time, for some reasonable God to show you mercy and cut you down.

Instead, Ianthe covers her smile half with her hand and says, "Oh, look at you, Harry, you poor thing. Soaking wet and I didn't even have a hand in it."

"Shut up," you try to say, but your chattering teeth and jaw make it come out more like "s-s-s-hhhht 'p," and Ianthe doesn't react regardless, just shakes her head and throws you another towel.

3.

"Harrow, please. It's late and I've never been fond of your insistence on bullshitting when I have your back against a wall. Besides, ending up huddled on my porch in the worst storm of the year is a little much, even for—"

"Even for me," you interrupt, "as though I was the one who slept in front of our front door for three nights so that I wouldn't 'run out on you with the rent' after you lost an argument."

The corner of Ianthe's mouth twitches, but it's the only slip of her otherwise curious, focused expression. "To be fair, it was an argument about the rent."

[choiceenvironment]

Shorty’s Fight

Shorty is so deserving of the proper surgery to save her leg.  I feel horrible that I can not afford to provide her with it. With so many people struggling, I hate to ask for this kind of financial help, but I have no choice.  I have to try for her sake. Our local small town community has already sponsored the costs to saving her, with help from the wonderful (Strathmore Veterinarian).  The donations gave the vet enough to amputate her tail and cast her arm from a broken Radial bone. Including an anonymous donor that paid her intake. I believe it is because the town knows her, she has gone into stores, got the mail with me and all my clients love her. Since then (2 weeks ago) something has gone wrong and the Ulnar bone which had a hairline fracture has now broken fully, the only option now is amputate her front left arm for $2000 or Surgery for $4500 to save the arm. She is in a lot of pain, this breaks my heart for her and she does not deserve to suffer. I have been told by some that she is just a cat, That I should just do what ever is cheapest and/or put her down. But she is not just a regular cat, her personality captures anyone who meets her but not in the cuddly way most would think. This is my story of the most unique cat I have ever known. "Sam Shorty" 2 years ago I was looking for a small companion cat that I could bring to work at my newly opened print shop. I thought it would be great to keep the mice away, I was lonely as I worked alone and I had some struggles coping with stress. My store was opened in 2017, Since then my entire store was flooded and I lost all my inventory with no help from insurance because it was "overland flooding" - Jerks! They didn't help at all.  But my community did! Since then I lost my father, 2 brothers and covid took away my events which used to pay for my store rent.  I hosted, cooking and paint classes for kids when they were off school.  I also trained people who struggle to learn computer skills and building their own resume. I honestly needed to find a daily companion and furry friend.  My first thought was to catch or coax one of the Ferrell cats around town because I would be "giving them a better life".  So I thought. ha ha ha But the stray cats around town are pretty happy just eating the field mice and being wild and free.  No worries, just play, eat and sleep, I am almost jealous except in winter time. ha ha ha So after weeks of desperately trying to make friends with the Ferrell's I gave up and realized that all I was doing was creating Night Fights from all the food I kept leaving out. The neighbors must have loved that. ha ha ha They did keep all the outside mice away, but funny...I seemed to end up with more mice inside the store. ha ha ha Moving forward I checked online for any cats needing a home and oddly at that time frame there was none?  People even tried catching their own farm Ferrell's to no avail.  Well I was determined so I planned to go on the weekend to buy one SOMEWHERE lol, didn't know where but I was determined. Saturday morning we planned for a Sunday trip to the city.  But I was feeling really down so I prayed.  I honestly prayed to God and asked for help in sending me a cat that needs the most help. See, Although I want a companion for my sake I also want to return the favor to my friend, I want to be doing something good. 2 hours later I was cleaning up some things in the shed and my husband says "I think there is something behind the quad" Sure as shit there was a kitten!  So we ran and told my daughter to grab a can of tuna and after a few attempts I was able to quickly grab her scruff and pull her into my scarf. She fought hard but only for a few seconds, then she tucked her head into my hair and didn't move. I walked around with her for a bit and she seemed to like it.  Eventually I set her on my bed and she just stared at all of us like she was in shock.  Pretty sure she was freaking out. ha ha ha Her eyes were full of gunk, she was so badly filled with worms and she pooped all over my bedroom, my bed, but I could care less. Funny story - she even gave me worms which is very rare! The first night she was so afraid that she would only lay on the window sill.  Shorty was so stunted and small that we called her shorty.  Also because her tail was the smallest tail we had ever seen. While she was going from the window to the liter box and back up to the window sill, her litter was getting stuck to her feet and a small amount kept dropping into my bedside drinking glass. Lets not get into details, but I drank a lot of water that night. ha ha ha - I still laugh at this cause she was worth it. It took a long time to get her back to health, we thought she was dead a few times when she would not move for hours. We eventually got her fixed and with consistent food she began to grow :) and although small she is one tough kitty. I had her on a leash when we would go for walks, camping or to work.  But eventually I just felt like she missed the wild. When we were camping it poured rain one year so bad, but she did not want to leave the brush beside the fire and I realized she was hunting mice! She would be soaking wet and I would try to take her inside with me but she would get so mad, growl and kick her back paws on me.  So in return for her friendship I sat in the rain with her for hours so she could listen to the wilderness and hunt mice.  She even caught one that year but her excitement caused her to lose it and it ran away. She would stand on her back feet and sway her head like a crazy person filled with glee, she looked like a playful bear. Shorty would finally want to go to bed around 11 pm, but at the crack of dawn she would be sitting on her leash staring at me and using her "mind powers" to wake me up.  She is very polite and tries not to disturb me while I sleep.  So sweet. I decided that if I truly love her I would have to let her have her own freedom and if she loved me too, she would return home. At first when I took her off her leash, Shorty would stay with me as I gardened or worked in the yard.  But eventually she left the yard for a day and night. But she returned and before the incident she would come and go on the hour. Shorty could be dead asleep on the piano ( her favorite spot) and she would know if another cat stepped on her property.   So would we, because all of a sudden she would run upstairs to the bedroom windows, then down to the basement windows. Sometimes she would "Scobie Doo"  around the corners then race to be let out the back door. All the neighborhood cats are free out here and go as they please.  They are also bigger than her! But she puff's up, spits and kicks her back feet like she is the toughest little girl in the world. Climbing is her favorite and she always has to show me.  She will run up the tree and if I am not watching her Shorty meows at me and scratches harder on the tree. She loves to run and show off how fast she is, her favorite game with my daughters is what we call "the chase game" That's where the kids will get a foot from her and she will run to the other side of the yard and lay down.  Then she rolls and shows her tummy, so the girls walk up to pet her and when they are a foot from her she runs back to the other side. She loves it. Shorty does not cuddle, wont let strangers touch her and only comes to me "Mom" Now the sad part -  We rescued a Pitbull and have spent month retraining her as she was abused and left to freeze in the cold.  Her name is Calypso. She cowers to many things and we thought we were getting her back to normal. Her prey drive was bad, but the cat and her were beginning to play and we began lowering our guard. I never left them in a room alone together, I still always supervised just encase. But 2 weeks ago I was in court awaiting a verdict on a local exploitation of a minor case.  The judge called guilty, we cried with relief and became overwhelmed as it had been a year long uncertain battle.  By the system prevailed! AS we celebrated on the way home I got a call from my daughter, the dog had got upstairs and the cat was bleeding. I tried to keep my daughter calm and a Neighbour ran to my house to see how bad it was. When I got there, the floor had a trail of blood and a pool of blood behind the couch. But it is not the dogs fault, she is a sweet sweet dog that just wants to be loved.  The dog took to me the moment we met and her jealousy took her over along with her natural instinct. Just as the cat needs to hunt mice, the dog wants to hunt too.  It part of them and I hold no fault to either of them. We called the nearest vet who responded with "we are booked unless you want to just bring her in and put her down?" Yah we hung up on them. Then we called Strathmore Vet and while bawling I explained that I had absolutely no money, I had no idea how to get any money but I would do anything to save her. The vet worked tirelessly through the night and all the next day.  Shorty had her tail amputated, and a second time from the damage.   Luckily she had enough blood to rebuild and just a fractured radial bone.  They tried there best to cast the arm but gave me a 50/50 chance of keeping it. The last two weeks of healing, Shorty has been such a trooper.  We have been trapped in my room since but I think she knows its only so she can heal.  I have not gone to work or left her side. I thought she was getting depressed the last few days but yesterday we found out its pain, from the second bone finally giving out. Shorty deserves to keep her leg and she deserves proper care.  The feeling of not being able to provide this to her is horrible. I cant even afford the amputation. With amputation I wonder if I will ever let her back outside? There is 2 jerks on our street that always speed and with her only having 3 legs I would be too worried that someone would run her over. Most people in our town will actually stop and let a cat cross the road, we are always watching for children and the speed is basically 30 klm/hr over the entire hamlet or Carseland. This is my last resort. I have tried to phone Pet Card to get approve for a pet loan but I don't make enough.  I actually don't make anything since covid and have been operating my print shop at a loss for 6 months. My customers have been hit hard, they don't have the money to pay anymore.  Its not their fault and I have stayed close with all my clients because I truly understand what they are going through. I tried selling all my game consoles i have collected since I was 12, that didn't pan out. The stress of everything gave me shingles, so I have 4 bags of bottles to take in and I am now better so I can actually take them in, but that's not going to help her today. So I am here asking for help because Shorty deserves better and I am okay with putting myself out there for her. She really deserves a chance to keep her freedom and live the happy life she had before. Thank you so much for reading, sharing or considering helping my little girl. My love to you all Jennifer

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.19, “A Moving Day”

Can you believe we only have 50 or so minutes of content left with this show?

I want to love every single one of them and not take any for granted. Each minute feels truly precious.

Never mind.

Folks... we got ourselves a Toast-Off!

Cyrus has brought Jonah, Buffy, and Andi together to make toast. I wish I had more here, but that’s the extent of it.

Jonah presents his toast first. It’s burnt.

Andi says toasters are the trickiest appliance in the kitchen, which is true. Sure, anybody can figure out how to put the bread in, but when it comes time to select between the settings of Light, Medium, and Dark, too many people just twist the dial all the way past dark to Burnt to a Crisp. Avoid that setting. That’s where most people get tripped up.

Jonah advises Cyrus to not eat his burnt bread, and Cyrus agrees.

Buffy presents her toast, which is more like the concept of toast.

Buffy claims it wasn’t fair because Jonah was using the toaster. To think, if only Jonah had used the toaster less, both he and Buffy could’ve made decent toast and been in the running to win... I don’t know, something. I really don’t know what we’re doing here.

Anyway, because Jonah sabotaged both his and Buffy’s chance to win the Toast-Off, Andi can walk away with the competition if she’s just made a piece of non-ruined toast.

And, of course, Andi went extra and made some kind of toast chicken coop.

Seems like an easy win, but Cyrus can’t declare it thus until he’s had a taste.

He thinks it’s pretty good, but there’s a flavor on it he can’t place. What is that, he asks.

Cyrus spits it out as Jonah and Buffy chuckle about one of their friends almost poisoning their other friend.

I guess it was only right to get one last random cold open in before the show ended. Here’s to the nonsense cold opens: the Toast-Offs, the extended oral hygiene montages, the projects for school about eggs, the bad coffees made, the phone chargers stolen, the games of Scrabble played, the times the Mack family argued about what to eat or what to watch or who stole clothes from whom. Oh, random nonsense cold opens, you were always... there, and we shall sometimes remember you.

49 or so minutes left. Each one from here on out? Truly precious.

At Celia’s, Celia has gathered her family around to do an aggressively large jigsaw puzzle.

Frankly, I’m a bit worried for her. This puzzle size is the type you buy when you want to make a statement: No, I don’t have anything better to do and no, I don’t plan on leaving the house for the next week! This puzzle is my life now.

Bex comes walking in, finishing a phone conversation. She tells the family she won something. The family guesses what she won, but they don’t come anywhere close to the right answer, which is a free meal cooked by famous chef Raoul Ricci. No one’s heard of Raoul Ricci, not even Celia, which you might think would tip them off that something’s afoot here, but no one seems interested in digging for the truth.

Even a quick Google search would’ve told them that something was wrong, as it seems the only known Raoul Ricci is an Italian dentist.

Or, as they call them in Rome, a dentista.

Anyway, Bex explains, through a long and bewildering story, Raoul Ricci was famous and had restaurants, but then he didn’t want to have restaurants anymore, so he left to be a hermit.

Andi’s like...

...oh, can we keep him?

Bex explains the prize is that he’s going to cook for them. They just have to go out into the forest and find him. Once they do, though, he’s going to make them the meal of a lifetime.

I can’t stress enough how shady this sounds. There’s a 75% chance this ends with Raoul Ricci chasing the Macks through the woods in some kind of “Most Dangerous Game” type scenario.

Bowie and Andi are in. Celia’s like, this sounds like an awful pain.

Bex warns her if she doesn’t go, the whole family is going to “rhapsodize” about this meal forever. Quick question: where does Bex get off? Just dropping rhapsodize in a sentence like that? Who does she think she is? I’m offended for Celia and I’m offended for us.

Celia is still not interested, despite the threats of rhapsodization, so Bex turns to Andi and Bowie for help. They basically say they’re not going to do puzzle-time with Celia unless she goes with them to the woods, so she relents, with one condition.

A puzzle so big it causes you mental anguish just thinking about it. It ain’t a real puzzle unless your fingers are bleeding by the end.

Meanwhile, Cyrus, Buffy, and Jonah walk around, somewhere, and talk about that “thing” they all have tomorrow. Jonah’s worried he won’t be able to make the thing because his family is moving. Cyrus and Buffy agree to help him move, but Jonah asks Buffy if she will be able to, given her foot and all.

Buffy’s like, of course I can...

Okay, but I’m pretty sure a strong gust of wind could lift Cyrus. I would require stronger proof. Jonah, however, doesn’t need to see more than that minor show of strength, and agrees to let them help.

The next day, the Mack family is all loaded up in Celia’s SUV that we’re seeing for the first time this entire series in the penultimate episode. Celia goes through a long series of things to get ready to leave: moving seats, checking mirrors, putting on gloves, searching for sunglasses. It’s agonizing.

Eventually Celia puts on her suit of knight armor and night-vision goggles and chugs an entire large coffee and she’s ready to operate a motor vehicle.

I do want to warn her though, she should make sure all those production lights and reflectors are moved out of the way before she starts driving.

Wouldn’t want to run over one of the crew members.

Celia drives off. They head for the mountains.

And in a hurry, too. Celia seems to be doing at least 80 on these winding mountain roads.

Me? I’d be worried about ice or sudden hazards or taking a turn too fast, but I guess the Macks trust Celia’s driving ability more than I trust my own.

The Macks all sing songs and make jokes and-- OH MY GOD!

LOOK OUT FOR THAT BUS!

THEY’RE BOTH DOING 70 ON A TWO LANE MOUNTAIN ROAD AND HEADING RIGHT FOR EACH OTHER!

IS EVERY DRIVER IN THIS TOWN MAD?!

The family survives that hairpin turn, though, and makes it up to Mount Washington, named, of course, after America’s most famous obelisk.

Bex leads them onto the trail at Panther’s Hollow, which naturally leads Celia to ask if there are panthers around. Bowie’s like, no, no. Well, maybe one.

And then he scares the hell out of an already nervous elderly woman.

Everyone has a good laugh about it and they set off walking to find the hermit.

Then we get about twelve minutes of footage of the Mack family walking through the woods. I’m not going to include screencaps. I’m just adding that for posterity’s sake.

Over at the storage unit the Beck family rented to put all their stuff in, Cyrus and Buffy help Jonah move said stuff into trucks.

Cyrus comes across a crate of old VHS tapes and DVDs and screams when he sees their contents.

He calls Buffy over to show her.

It’s Judy Bartholomew!

Who’s Judy Bartholomew? She’s an old workout video lady who became a meme. Cyrus feels like he has to show Buffy the video, so he pulls out his phone.

They both have a good laugh about it. Cyrus is surprised to learn she’s real. He’s like, I can’t believe how big a fan Jonah’s mom is. She must be to have the entire Judy Bart collection like this.

Then Jonah’s mom shows up and she’s like, hey Jojobear, can I finally meet your friends? The ones you’ve been good friends with for like a year and a half now and that you won’t let me be around for some reason?

She walks over to Cyrus and Buffy who are shocked to see the Judy Bartholomew standing right in front of them.

Jonah’s like, yeah, it’s her.

Honestly, I’m impressed Jonah’s been able to hide his mom from his friends for this long. Did they never hang out around his family? Did she never come to pick him up from some place?

And doesn’t she wonder who his friends are? When he’d talk about the stuff they’d done together, would she just sit there going, “Oh, that sounds nice, Jonah. Sure would like to meet some of your friends one of these days.” And would Jonah be like, “Uh huh, yeah, you should,” and then he’d just continue putting it off for 15 months? Just kept kicking that can down the road?

Anyway, I still appreciate the show broaching this subject. Media so often lacks in representation of children whose parents have become internet memes.

Back out in the woods, the Macks walk through the woods. All but Bex grow restless. They ask her for proof that she knows where she’s going, like a map.

This doesn’t make them feel comforted.

Bowie pulls Bex aside and asks her what’s really going on. Bex is like, you trust me, right? Bowie says of course. Bex is like, okay, good, back into the forest we go and she walks off.

Bowie tells Andi and Celia it will all be worth it, like a liar, and they start another walking through the woods montage. Bex carries Andi. Bowie carries Celia.

This episode has more characters carrying other characters than any other episode the show has done.

Back at the storage unit, Judy Bart teaches Cyrus and Buffy how to trot.

She’s doing like this locomotion move, very simple.

Cyrus is like, AM I DOING IT?!

As he twists his body back and forth and throws his arms out.

Like, no, man. You can’t tell that what you’re doing is nothing like what Judy is doing? That it’s like, almost the opposite of what she’s doing?

Judy tells Jonah to show them how to do it, so Jonah steps up and does a whole dance routine that I’m also not sure is what Judy was doing.

But it looked good and had a nice finish, so whatever.

Jonah says he’s been doing that since he was six and it’s permanently ingrained in his head now like so many childhood scars.

Then Judy’s like, hey, didn’t you kids have to be in the mountains right about now? And they’re like, oh yeah, we have to get changed and get to the mountains, so they leave her in the storage unit.

Speaking of the mountains, the Macks find rocks.

They collapse on the rocks.

Bex is like, no, don’t sit on rocks now! We almost made it. The family doesn’t want to believe her, but she convinces them it’s true. She leads them around the bend where they find a fancy set up and...

Cyrus?

You see, Cyrus, for three years now, has been posing as celebrity chef Raoul Ricci and sneaking off to the mountains to prepare three course meals for random tourists.

No, wait.

Buffy appears from out of nowhere and this whole thing reeks of a setup.

How in the world did these two get up here so fast from the storage facility? Helicopter?

Andi’s like, what is going on? Where is the hermit I was promised?

Bex tells everyone there’s no hermit. This was all made up to trick everyone into going to the mountains. Bowie asks why.

Bowie’s like, oh, is that back on?

Cyrus and Buffy bring them rings and flowers.

Bowie’s says finally and they embrace.

They all head for a gazebo.

Jonah plays Bowie’s song, “You Girl”, on the guitar.

Andi walks Bex to Bowie.

The two take each other’s hands as the officiant begins doing his officianting.

Where did he come from, too? Did Jonah and Buffy and Cyrus ride up here with him? Carpool?

The wedding goes as weddings do. You know, rings and stuff. Bex and Bowie are about to kiss when--

Everyone looks around trying to figure out whose phone that is before Andi realizes it’s hers. She shuts it off and the music and kissing starts again.

They complete the kiss this time.

Bex is like, I know... it’s been a lot. Thanks for not fleeing.

Later, Bex and Bowie delight in calling each other husband and wife. Everyone is sort of shocked it actually finally happened.

The Mack family (the ones we’re still counting) share a hug.

That night, Cyrus shows Andi the Judy Bart videos and then he brags that they spent the day with her. Jonah says he introduced her to them. Andi doesn’t believe he knows her, but Jonah’s like, yeah, I do.

Andi’s stunned. She feels bad, but, in fairness to Andi, it’s super weird that Jonah kept her hidden this long anyway, especially from Andi of all people. She couldn’t be expected to make that guess.

Jonah’s like, don’t feel bad, the whole thing is funny. He used to be embarrassed about it but he’s over it. Andi says she can’t wait to meet her. And then they talk about meeting Jonah’s dad. Buffy makes a joke about his dad being one of the hairy guys from the workout video and Jonah’s like, yeah, he is.

Everyone sits around thinking about this for a second before they all decide Jonah’s joking.

He’s not.

I don’t know what makes them think Jonah has suddenly acquired a subtle sense of humor. Jonah’s idea of jokes are jump scaring Andi and “S’less.” You really think he’s got a level of clever beneath all that that he’s been hiding for a year and a half as if it was his mother?

Jonah leaves without saying another word.

Can I just take a quick second to try to piece together the history of the Beck family, because I find it fascinating.

So, sometime in the 1980s/early 1990s (I assume based on the fashion), Judy Bartholomew makes it big as a workout video star. Jonah’s father, Mr. Beck, is hired at some point to be a background guy in one of her videos.

I assume this is where they meet and fall in love. Later, they get married and have Jonah.

In the years that follow, Jonah’s dad undergoes a full-body transformation, getting buff and changing hairstyles and retires from the workout video business to coach little league, and, I guess, control the finances of the Judy Bartholomew workout empire.

Eventually, Jonah’s dad invests the Judy Bartholomew fortune unwisely, and the family loses their house, and they’re homeless until very recently when he gets a new job. Doing what? I have no idea. I can’t begin to assume what his area of expertise is.

I guess my question is this: does any child in this town have a quiet, average family? Buffy’s mom spends half her life in foreign countries doing work for the military and Buffy’s family is still somehow the most normal of the group’s.

Later, Andi wanders off from the group and checks her phone. That call earlier? It was from SAVA.

The school left her a voicemail. Andi listens to it and gets sad, but I don’t think in the “rejected from a school” way.

Plus, I don’t think schools call you just to tell you to screw off. “Hi, this is Caroline from SAVA. Is this Andi Mack? Okay, great. Just calling to tell you you weren’t good enough to get into our school. Have a nice evening.”

Bex and Bowie sneak up on Andi and scare her.

God, this poor girl must live in constant fear. Why is everyone always doing this to her?

As the episode ends, Bex and Bowie talk about how happy they are right now. Andi says she is, too.

Though, as TJ would say, “Tell your face.”

Speaking of TJ...

Aww, this is the last time I get to be excited about seeing TJ in the scenes from the next episode.

One more to go, people. One more.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

I notice you post quite a bit about your family being extremely poor but also are an adult and seem to write a lot. Do you work to help out your family, or are you unable to? There are jobs out there that involve writing if that’s the extent you're capable of, like if disabilities get in the way of normal jobs. The level of poverty you describe your family dealing with is really depressing.

So...

I spent 11/14 years in one Christian School. There was a hiatus of 3 years of me trying out public school but I got shoved back into RBCS in 8th grade and stayed. I did not not want to go but Sperm Donor said it was a punishment for my behavior, so I’d be forced to be around Bible Thumpers every damn day.

Private Schools in America cost money. Tuition for this place was $1500 a year for kids over 10. I found out my mom’s brother John paid all my former years of education there to try and keep me close to the family(since my Nana was my school teacher) and make sure my mom didn’t go full broke.

Sperm Donor was in a pickle himself at the time. He was in the processes of being arrested for stealing nearly a million dollars from his clients(he was a financial adviser). He only took from the very desperate, disabled clients too. One died because her parents couldn’t afford her medication, because he was stealing their money. We were in a tight spot as a result, though I didn’t know enough until later. He didn’t pay my tuition or book fees($100+).

So he’s carted off to prison a month before 8th grade ends and I’m sent back to my mom’s custody. And my principal(also pastor) calls my mom to inform her that she has a $1600+ bill to pay for my schooling. She definitely does not have that and I certainly don’t either.

Next day at school I get cornered about how stealing is a sin and dishonesty is a sin(instead of blaming Sperm Donor because God forbid the man in prison for STEALING be in the wrong here). I’m offered a chance to lower the bill if I go candy-selling with the rest of the students every Friday. I will get half the profits made and it’ll be taken off my debt. So I told my mom I’d help her out and I went and did it. I ended up having to stay in the school another year where the money added on and I went candy-selling on Tuesdays too to try and make up for it. I’d earn about $50 each time so $100 a week was put toward the debt, meaning $400 a month. 

The chick who was the school/church secretary however, was a bitch who had it out for us. Monthly we’d get notices about how much debt we were in with the school, and one month a student would have $457 and the next month on the first day they apparently had $890. If tuition monthly is about $150 for teen, how did the number shoot up so much? Mine kept getting abnormally higher and reaching into the $3,000s. And I told my mom who then bitched at the school. 

The secretary barely finished high school and the only reason she was in that position that she was not capable of handling alone or at all, was because she was kissing the church’s ass. She had sex outside of marriage on school property and got pregnant and was forced to marry him to save her dignity the moment she turned 18. They kept her very close with guilt ever since. Instead of just leaving, she chose to stay and be a bitch to everyone.

My tuition issue plagued me the entire time no matter how much I did. I was so stressed constantly and letters from Sperm Donor who got to write to me in prison, said the school wouldn’t accept his tuition payments when he re-enrolled me. He said he even got his new fiance to monitor a fund he set up before leaving, and sent the money in monthly for the year he signed on. IDK who to believe because he’s a pathological liar, but the church has also been trying for 4 years to get me back into their fold, popping up at my mom’s house uninvited, trying to guilt trip me with Godly reasons, accusing me of being a ‘whore’ who needs to get right with God all because I wore pants, and using my terminally ill Nana as an excuse. They very much would and have actually taken payments without recording them in the logbooks.

I spent my HS years in debt, working hard to get out of it. My HS teacher actually helped me by letting me clean her house once a month and I’d earn $150 in two days because the house was pretty big. I ended up candy-selling more and more days a week and bringing candy boxes home to sell in the neighborhood.

And it seemed to never let up. The numbers did not match. Somehow my debt was always in the $2000s+ but I was making at least $300 a month? My mom finally snapped and said she’d call the cops on the school if something didn’t change. A month later we get the updates to our accounts and the numbers dropped drastically. My Senior Year and I only had a couple hundred dollars left. And the Secretary was suspiciously quiet from then on and kept to herself and left us alone.

Still, I spent the whole time doing candy-selling for them so much, and having to attend church activities for them, that I never got a job. Candy-selling actually brought in more money than what a teen would be allowed to earn anyway. At the time I was so up the church’s ass and scared to make my own decisions that they said I wasn’t capable of making because I was so young, I had already agreed to continue being the church pianist past graduation and they’d agreed to help me fund college so long as I went to the one of their choice with my friends. They had set up my future vocation(teacher in the their school, pianist in their church) and my future husband(Sam most likely) and I wouldn’t have to do anything but follow rules. And as I was scared, I planned to go along with it.

But then they fucked me over a week before Senior Year ended and when June 5th passed and I got my diploma, I peaced out. We changed our phone number, stopped coming to the door when they came by, and ignored their chances at re-connection. And it was months after I got fucked over when they found out they were the ones in the wrong and tried to half ass an apology to me. Didn’t work.

After graduating, my step-dad demanded I get a job finally. Mind you, his failure of a son dropped out of HS & moved to PA with us and proceeded to rely on daddy to do all his work for him. Daddy got him a job at Weis, he faked being sick so much he was fired. Daddy got him another job at Walmart, he took too many days off and he got fired. He moved out of our house and in with his new girlfriend(after milking 3 of their cash already). This one was a trust fund baby(Bree) who was adopted. Her parents paid for her apartment, her nursing education, and gave her a card with $1,000 on it a month for anything she needed. Step-bro moved in and they wasted that whole card name-brand candy in a week. 

She started skipping classes to go out to eat with him. Her parents stopped by to see if she was doing well because the school became concerned over abnormal behavior. They wanted step-bro out of the apartment and the relationship to end because they said he was using her for her money(he was and admitted it to mine and my mom’s faces) and would get in the way of her goals in life. She refused. They said they’d take away her card if she didn’t. Well, they did. And another month went by with no changes and they withdrew the full payments for the schooling too. She dropped out. And finally the apartment a month after that.

So now she’s homeless and step-bro manages to swindle both of them back into our apartment. They have to sleep on the floor in the living room. Daddy got them both jobs at Amazon with him. The pay was pretty fucking good at the time. There was a year in between there where we had money and were contemplating getting our own house for the first time. Things were going well.

Step-dad didn’t try to help me get a job though. I asked for help because my search went nowhere. Those 3 got transportation every day and I was stuck with walking. We lived on a mountain and all businesses were at the bottom 2 miles away, so I applied to all available businesses within 2 miles, either in person or online. Never got any responses. As it was a bust, my mom just said, ‘help clean the house since they’re gone all day and help be my legs to watch your sister and I’ll consider that your rent’. So I did. Every day. And I hated it. And there are a lot of posts on here from then of me complaining about it.

So I asked him for help and he never did. But he would demand to know why I didn’t have a job yet or why the house wasn’t perfectly clean? And I’m like, “Dude, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere. You don’t take your dishes into the kitchen. I clean in the day, you get back in the evening and trash the place and by the morning when you’re gone, it’s all a mess. You only see mess because it’s all you 3 make all day with candy wrappers and soda cans!”

After year he had a seizure on the floor and had to be rushed to the hospital from Amazon. Epileptic issues meant no more work at Amazon because his job was operating heavy machinery and he kept having small seizures weeks later! Without him there every day to keep step-bro and gf on their toes, they started calling in sick together or skipping work with dumb reasons. They got fired soon after. The job hunt was a failure, but daddy was still getting jobs for all of them! Instead of over the table jobs, they now worked under the table, fixing up houses(sheetrock, spackle, insulation, etc...). Still didn’t try and help me get a job. I didn’t know how to do any of that, but gf didn’t either but they taught her how to do it.

Frankly, it got to a point of me being a live-in maid in exchange for me staying under their roof, while step-bro and gf made up excuses to not have to help step-dad. Sick, business, too tired, whatever they came up with. I remained home, handling my sister’s online education with my mom, cleaning the house, handling my sister’s bullies, handling our shitty inspector, and all that crap.

Step-dad takes in a friend of his who was evicted and homeless so he’s sleeping on our other couch at this time. Kind of easy to forget but we felt bad for his situation as it was his girlfriend who fucked him over.

And then step-dad and step-bro opened their mouths on something they should have avoided. In that place we kept to ourselves. There was shady shit going on. Murder, drug deals, drive-bys, etc. Mom and I left them all alone and turned the other way and they left us alone. 19 years in that place. If a cop came by asking questions of the only white person in the joint, she’d go, ‘we know nothing, we saw nothing, sorry’. But step-dad and Junior opened their mouths and one of the newer guys reported the son and gf because they weren’t on our lease. We got evicted after 19 years of good relations with management because someone inserted an opinion in something he should have stayed out of.

So 30 days to gtfo, no one in the house has a real job with consistent pay, we move in with my mom’s uncle for the time being. The house is huge with many bedrooms but to conserve space, I, mom, and my sister bunk in the same room. Mom and Bethy got the bed and I slept on the floor for 2 years. Step-dad don’t know what the eff he’s doing for months. We’re up in buttfuck Egypt. He and the Tweedle dimwits are still doing what they were doing before but now have to drive 3 hours to and 3 hours back just to make it. Mom is doing surveys online to make extra money. She’s trying to do her best while disabled. I’m helping clean the house as my form of payment. The car fails, money that was being saved up to move out, has to go to that. The next one fails too so that has to be handled and we’re in debt now! Christmases and Birthdays are nonexistent. Her Uncle’s new wife isn’t quite so open to us being there and complains a lot.

Step-dad manages to make a deal with a guy he’s working with. He fixes up a house the guy owns, and works for him on more houses after that, and he’ll get a considerably low payment for the rent monthly. He didn’t do much work and lied to mom about what was done and when all was said and done, we moved in and it was a wreck. Worse than it is now but it’s still pretty effin terrible. No kitchen, the bathroom is half-finished still, no insulation, power problems, you name it. It’s bad. But cheap because the lease shows we owe $20 a month instead of $200 because the guy forgot to add a zero when he was drawing up the contract.

Then step-bro and gf manage to convince step-bro’s grammy to move down to PA and rent a house for them to use. They still don’t have jobs, disabled grammy pays for everything. Step-dad’s couch-dwelling friend gets a new gf and moves in with her. Step-dad is driving 3 hours to work and by the time he gets back, he sleeps for 4 hours and then has to leave again. Finally he starts staying at his son’s place because it’s closer and less gas to spend, but that also means he’s taken the car. We’re stranded here with only a mini mart across the street as the only shop for miles! He makes excuses for why he can’t come up. Mom has so many health problems but hasn’t seen a doctor in 5 years because of this. I haven’t seen one in 6. My sister is the only one with regular appointments because they’re necessary for school. If anything, at least she remains unaffected by this crap.

I too have taken to doing surveys now. If I get 500 pts a day that’s a $5 gift card to target which delivers here. One of the few places that do.

I can’t even work at the mini mart because the man has 6 employees for each day of the day. 1 works with him each day but Monday where he works alone because there’s less rush on Mondays.

No matter how I complain it’s not like I can go anywhere. There’s still a roof over my head and I have access to the internet. Even if I’m cold every day, borderline ill, and miserable, it’s better than being on the streets.

Some poor people are very unlucky. We are those people. The ones where everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Step-dad’s been through 4 cars since coming here cuz they keep breaking down and needing to be fixed. My sister’s been sick every other month. Power goes out a lot.

I cope by whining online.

[aslanjadecarlyle]

friendly reminder that call me by your name is one of the worst books to ever exist

Don’t believe me? Here’s my review that I left on Goodreads in September. Have fun (or not).

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2770610798?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1 A grand total of: 1 Star ⭐️ My Review: (Edited To Add: When I first read this book, I, at the very least, thought that the author, Andre Aciman, was part of the LGBT+ community, but... NOPE! Asshole is a fucking STRAIGHT MAN. MOTHERFUCK.) And the most disappointing read of the year goes to... Lads, I hated this book. Absolutely fucking hated it. Hated it, hated it, hated it. Words cannot describe how much I fucking regret reading this book — it just might be one of the worst books I have /ever/ read. I literally cannot deal. There were a few different reasons why I hated this book, all of which I will go into, but there was one reason why I hated it most of all, and I’ll put that reason here: Elio. I. COULD. NOT. STAND. HIM. OH MY GOD. This asshole. Full disclosure, before I go on, I am asexual as fuck. I do not feel sexual attraction, never have, probably never will. I am also sex-repulsed — However, I AM sex-positive. Normally, I do not give a single fuck what people do in their sex lives as long as everything is legal and consensual, and as long as it doesn’t involve me. However, this little asshole was a motherfucking CREEP. I get it. He’s 17. Most 17 year olds who actually do feel sexual attraction are horny as fuck, all day, every day. They probably, like, look up porn and shit — before PornHub, there was Playboy. Can’t relate, but okay. It’s whatever. BUT THAT DOES NOT EXCUSE ANY OF WHAT THIS KID DID. (Pretty big spoilers from here on out, heyo). Right, so he pretty much starts lusting after Oliver 0.2 seconds after meeting the dude. It is literally your textbook definition of instalust, and if you looked it up in the dictionary you would see Elio’s face (do we ever even learn his last name???) in the dictionary. He starts fantasizing about Oliver’s cock right off the bat. Fine. Creepy, but whatever. I thought his little comment comparing Oliver’s ass and balls to an apricot was pretty cringey (he literally went as far as to call it Oliver’s “apricock”), but I would EASILY take a million apricocks over the bullfuckery (no pun intended) that happens next. But first, before we even get into the cringey sex shit, I would like to point out that there is a point somewhere in the beginning part of this book where Elio literally wishes that, “Oliver was a cripple in a wheelchair so he couldn’t run away.” If that’s not the direct quote, it’s pretty damn close. UMMM. Nice dose of casual ableism there, but okay. Moving on. Okay, so basically the context of the relationship is that Elio is a kid from Italy, and during the summer his parents run a vacation home. They rent out some rooms in the house, including Elio’s bedroom (he temporarily moves into a smaller spare bedroom whenever this happens). Oliver is an American and he’s vacationing in Italy for like 6 weeks, so they rent out Elio’s room and he moves into the spare during this time. Fantastic. So, pretty quickly after Oliver moves in for the summer, Elio catches him wearing swim trunks. Totally normal, it’s summer, it’s hot, and Oliver is staying at a resort near the beach. He is totally justified in wearing swim trunks during this time. Except Elio takes things to a whole new damn level, and after seeing Oliver in these evidently very sexy swim trunks, he sneaks into Oliver’s room. His justification of this very brilliant decision is basically, “Well, it’s actually MY room and he’s just borrowing it so I am TOTALLY JUSTIFIED in going through his belongings.” Right. Anyway, so this kid starts snooping through Oliver’s room (I will be calling it Oliver’s room during this review since he’s renting it). He starts snooping through their guest’s clothes and shit, starts going through his closet... and, lo and behold, what is the very first thing Elio finds in said closet? The very smexy swim trunks. (They’re red, in case you wanted to know). And so. What does Elio do upon finding these sexy red swim trunks? This absolute treasure among treasures? First, he takes the swim trunks out of the closet. And then... He :) holds the swim trunks up to his face :) and INHALES the scent of the inside of the crotch area :) where Oliver’s dick goes. :) BONUS POINTS: He also narrates that he wishes! he could find! “some sort of bodily fluid or a pubic hair!” 😍 I mean, what a guy, hey? *TV Announcer Voice* BUT! THAT’S! NOT! ALL! So while Elio is in Oliver’s room, he, naturally, has to strip naked and try on Oliver’s swim trunks. Because that is very clearly the next step in creepiness after inhaling some random dude’s cock-smelling swim trunks like it’s a goddamn Yankee candle. But that’s not even the weirdest thing that happens. I can’t remember if this happened before, during, or after Elio tried on the trunks (this entire scene was a goddamn nightmare — one of many), but at some point before leaving Oliver’s room, Elio gets on the bed, finds a pillow that Oliver brought with him, and :) dry humps :) the goddamn thing. :) Literally puts it between his legs and rides it out like a goddamn pony. Why I didn’t stop reading at that point, I will never know, but sometime after all this happens, a sort-of relationship forms between Elio and Oliver (more like a summer fling). I have no idea what Italy’s age of consent laws are, so that’s really not my place to say — I don’t want to seem like I’m defending the situation, and I know that most of my rant has been about Elio, but I just... the whole situation is really hard to judge, in my opinion. Oliver’s in his early 20s so the age gap isn’t HUGE huge, but he is American while Elio is Italian, different countries with different laws, so like... that further muddies the age of consent shit. But, even if the ages WEREN’T a problem, the relationship itself is a goddamn train wreck. Overthinking it all highkey stresses me out. Instead, Imma just tell y’all about an ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING thing that happened afterwards because WHAT THE FUCK. WHY WAS THIS IN A FUCKING BOOK. OH MY GOD. (I feel like I’m radiating strong Gus from How To Be A Normal Person vibes right now and, honestly, I need my inner Gus to get me through this shit because WHAT THE FUCK). So, they hook up and have sex for the first time. Whatever. I don’t even know what the fuck happened because, honestly, the writing style was not the best (I’ll rant about that later, if I make it through this shit) and they did this thing where they called each other by each other’s names during sex (which is, I guess, where the title comes from — hardy har har). The idea is fine in retrospect, but between the name-swapping and the shitty writing style, the scene overall was very confusing to read. All I got out of it was that Elio bottomed and Oliver topped. (<—— Almost accidentally typed Gus there and, um, Gustavo Tiberius deserves better than that. I am so sorry, Gus). After they have sex, Elio starts to question whether that was a good idea, whether he was actually into Oliver like that, etc., etc.. And at some point during all of this — I don’t even know how or why this became a thing — he ends up fucking a peach. You read that right. He :) fucks :) a :) peach. :) Like, I’m talking, splits it open and just! shoves his cock right on through! He even cums in the damn thing! ... And, like, I have never seen the movie, but I looked it up, AND THAT SCENE IS IN THE GODDAMN MOVIE. LITERALLY COMES UP AS “THE PEACH SCENE.” WHY. WHY. WHY. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY. What kind of American Pie, 50 Shades bullshit did I just read AND WHY DID ABSOLUTELY NO ONE WARN ME ABOUT IT. Oh, and, uh, Oliver eats the peach. Just. Gobbles that thing up like it’s his favorite piece of goddamn candy. At that point, my soul just kinda detached itself from my body and plummeted straight into hell. I have become numb to any sort of emotion, and I am never touching a goddamn peach ever again, oh my god. So um. Yeah. Outside of the creepy sex shit and questionable age shit, the book was actually boring as fuck. I thought I would actually like the Italian setting, but nope! Outside of being traumatized, I have absolutely no recollection of what happens after Oliver and Elio go to Rome together. All I remember is that I’m pretty sure the ending was bullshit. And the writing style was Not Great either. The author tried SO HARD to be stupidly poetic and it absolutely did not work in the goddamn slightest (especially during the sex scenes, with fruit and otherwise). The paragraphs were super long and rambling, and the author went through patches of writing where he just. Straight up did not break the paragraphs at all when a conversation happened. I read whole paragraphs where I had no idea who was talking because it went back and forth so much. I have no idea if that was done as a stylistic choice, but it was bullshit and I’m judging everyone who liked it. Why??? Did this??? Goddamn book??? Become a movie??? I have never wanted to roundhouse kick a book into the goddamn ocean so badly. I regret ever buying it. I regret not stopping after the goddamn swim trunks shit. I want my money back. In conclusion, to sum up this goddam monstrosity of a book: WHY. (If you want better LGBT+ books, please consider reading How To Be A Normal Person by T.J. Klune, A Light Amongst Shadows by Kelley York & Rowan Altwood, or A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice & Virtue by Mackenzi Lee, just to name a few. They are all SO much better than this goddamn... experience... and do not include questionable age laws. And also, the first two titles are written by indie authors who are part of the LGBT+ community!)

[themaskedwriter]

Three Jerks

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary – After the Battle of New York, you decide to get away from the city for a vacation in the Caribbean. But one week away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple quickly turns into a few years as you find you enjoy the simplicity of island life. As it turns out, you’re not the only native New Yorker who finds solace on the white sandy beaches of Jamaica.

Warnings – Angst, Fluff, Sexy Times, Cursing, and Drinking

Word Count – 5K

Notes: This is a Canon Divergent fic based on Anthony Mackie’s response to a question at the ACE Comic Con in Seattle. If you’d like to watch the video, the entire panel discussion with Mackie, Sebastian, and Tom Holland is on YouTube. Fast forward to 1:03:50.

Clues: 

1. This author prefers writing angst more than anything.

2. This author is notorious for her cruel cliffhangers.

3. This author loves adding a good plot twist.

YN had noticed the three new additions to the lonely stretch of beach she’d called home for God only knew how many years. When she’d gotten off the clunky little prop plane at Sangster International Airport, she’d told the taxi driver to take her to the nearest beach bar. A half a mile later, he’d pulled up to the Dead End and she’d known right then that she was exactly where she’d needed to be.

The Battle of New York had completely demolished the office building she’d worked in since she’d graduated from college, and her tiny apartment hadn’t faired much better. With only the clothes on her back and a fairly decent savings account, she’d booked the first flight out of New York to Jamaica.

She’d only intended to stay for a week, but once she’d learned that the owner of the Dead End was ready to retire, she’d drained her savings account and bought the tiny beach bar. What had started out as a whim had quickly turned into the best decision of her life. Island life was nothing like New York and she actually enjoyed waking up each morning and going to work, which wasn’t something she could have ever said about her job in the city.

The locals had taken their time warming up to her, but once they realized that she was there to stay—and that she had no intentions of turning the dive bar into some hipster joint—they had welcomed her with open arms. Her clientele included a few regulars that lived on the island full time, as well as tourists—like she’d been that first week—who were looking for the first bar they could find once they landed on the island.

There was a hotel right next door, so most people ended up getting a room and wasting their entire vacation sitting on one of her barstools and spending all of their money. YN didn’t mind, though. Middle class working men and women tipped better than the snooty rich folks down the beach at the Sandals resort. A few of them came ‘slumming’ every so often, and they always annoyed the shit out of her and her regulars.

She’d pegged the three new guys as entitled rich men on a business retreat at first, but after a few days—and some sizable tips—she’d had to rethink her initial assessment of them. They were a peculiar group of men, and something about them struck her as odd from the very first time they’d parked their cute little tushes on her barstools. Within the first few minutes she’d realized that they were all former military. It wasn’t so much the way they looked—every one of them had full beards and their hair definitely wasn’t 'high and tight’ like she’d seen in the movies. The way they moved, and the way they spoke gave away their military training, but she hadn’t said a word to them about it. They seemed like they wanted to get away from their former lives, and as someone who’d done the same, she couldn’t hold it against them.

The three of them—Thomas, James, and Grant—weren’t a group of guys you would’ve expected to be joined at the hip like they were. Thomas was a true extrovert, and was always quick with a smile and a flirty comment. James was sullen and taciturn, but YN figured it had something to do with the fact that he only had one arm. Grant, on the other hand, was a dream come true. As with all groups of men, one stood out as the leader, and in this particular group, it was definitely Grant. Tall and muscular with a mop of dark blond hair that was a few shades lighter than the beard he sported, he was an imposing man that was obviously used to giving orders. Thomas and James always seemed to defer to him when it came to making decisions, so YN assumed he must have been their commanding officer while they’d served together.

The three of them had set up shop a little ways down the shore. Their establishment, Three Jerks, was unlike anything she’d ever seen on the island.  They’d bought a few jet skis and rented them out by the half hour, but they’d also purchased a dilapidated food truck and sold jerk chicken, red beans, and rice while the tourists waited for the jet skis to come back in.

As much as she hated to admit it, it was a great idea. She’d been as skeptical as the rest of the locals, but curiosity had gotten the better of her—not to mention the smell of jerk chicken wafting down on the breeze—and she’d ventured over to give their culinary skills a taste. She hadn’t been disappointed. Whoever had taught Thomas to make jerk chicken had known what they were doing. Within a week, Thomas had been forced to leave the jet ski rentals to James and Grant so he could focus on the food truck.

The three of them came by her bar most evenings, and she truly enjoyed their company, but there was a part of her that wanted to spend some one on one time with Grant. Listening in on James and Thomas’ constantly bickering like an old married couple was entertaining, but she felt a pull toward Grant that she hadn’t felt since she’d moved to the island. There had been a few flings with vacationing tourists, but that had mostly been due to the need to scratch an itch.

With Grant, it was different. He had these old, soulful eyes that spoke volumes about his mysterious history. He may have put on a carefree attitude for everyone else, but YN had learned over the years to see beneath the surface of a carefully constructed façade.

For some reason she got the impression that Grant wasn’t like most of the men that had come across her path in the past few years. There was something almost old-fashioned about the way he spoke to not only her, but everyone he conversed with. His politeness wasn’t something put on for the sake of his business—it seemed to be as genuine as the heart-stopping smile he gave her every time he sat perched on a barstool before her.

“The usual, please,” Grant told YN as he slid onto his favorite stool.

YN didn’t even need to turn around to know who’d dropped by. “What about you boys—the usual as well?”

“They’re not here,” Grant said, causing YN to turn around in surprise.

She poured three fingers of whisky into a glass and placed it neatly on a paper napkin embossed with the name of the bar. “And how exactly did you manage to get away from those two?”

“Thomas met a dame.”

YN smiled at his use of the antiquated term. It was little things like that that had her wondering where in the world he’d come from.

“And James?”

Grant laughed as he took a swig of his whisky. “The dame had a friend who took a liking to James. Thomas paid him a hundred bucks to double with him so he could get lucky.”

Shaking her head, she began to laugh. “Oh, to be a fly on that wall.”

“I know, right?”

Another customer flagged her down, so she left Grant alone with his drink. She knew this was probably her only opportunity to get him alone, so if she was going to make a move, it had to be tonight. It was the off season, so the bar wasn’t busy—it would just be a matter of getting the few customers that remained to go home so she could close up shop and try to get lucky herself.

Fate seemed to be on her side as one by one, her regulars called it an early night and left her alone with Grant. She’d been scared that he would leave before she got her chance, but he’d seemed content to drink his whisky and watch the sun set over the horizon.

“I think I’m going to close up early tonight,” she told him as she wiped the bar down with a damp rag.

“Oh,” he said, surprised at her announcement. “I can go, if you want.”

“Actually,” she began as butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. “I was hoping you’d join me for a drink…somewhere a little more private.”

She watched the confusion on his face turn to understanding and she held her breath as she waited to see what he would say. A part of her feared that she’d just ruined one of the only friendships she’d made on the island, but another part knew that she’d never forgive herself for not at least trying.

He tore his gaze away from hers and stared at the empty glass before him. He’d known how she felt about him for a while now, but he’d never acted on it. It wasn’t as if he were free to pursue a relationship, but then again, his duties and obligations had kept him from having a life for the better part of a century. Maybe it was time to be a little bit selfish.

“I’d like that,” he finally said, chancing a glance to see how she’d take his answer. He saw the relief wash across her face as a huge smile lit up her eyes in a way he’d never seen before.

“Okay, just give me a few minutes to close up shop.”

“I’ll help,” he offered as he began to help her secure the bar for the night.

The pretense of the drink was forgotten the moment they crossed the threshold of her tiny bungalow beside the bar. Before she’d known what was happening, she was pressed up against the back of the door as Grant’s lips began to softly caress hers. His hands weren’t as gentle as his mouth as he slid them beneath the hem of her shirt. The contrast between his rough hands and tender kisses had her mind reeling.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered as his mouth left hers to explore the exposed flesh above the collar of her t-shirt.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned as she hooked one of her legs around his waist to draw him closer to her.

Regaining some of her senses, she finally let herself indulge in the one fantasy she’d had since she’d first laid eyes on him—burying her hands in his hair. The thick strands were just as soft as they appeared and as she ran her fingers over his scalp, she could feel the moan rise up in his chest before she heard it.

She’d expected him to be rough with her, and although she wouldn’t have complained in the least, he’d turned out to be a slow and patient lover. It was almost as though he was worshiping her body with his hands and lips. She lost count of how many times he sent her careening over the edge before he finally joined her.

Lying spent in his arms, she wondered if this would only be a one time thing, or if they’d finally crossed the line between friends and lovers for good. If this turned out to be the only opportunity she’d get to be loved by him, she’d be sorely disappointed. He’d completely ruined her for any other man, and she knew she’d never be able to go back to the cheap one-night stands she’d thought she’d enjoyed with the tourists.

Forcing her mind to leave her worries for tomorrow, she willed herself to relax and enjoy the afterglow of the most amazing sex she’d ever had. As she felt her minds softening toward sleep, his fingers began to lightly trail over her skin.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly, not sure if she’d already fallen asleep or not.

His question had her senses reawakening as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

She knew she was putting herself out there even more than she already had, but she was desperate to keep him for as long as he was willing to stay.

He leaned over and gently kissed her. “I’d like that, too.” He paused for a moment. “I should probably grab a shower, though. Care to join me?”

The prospect of shower sex had her wide awake in an instant. Sliding out of the bed, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the bathroom. As she turned on the water, she saw his eyes begin to darken with desire and she realized she was going to be in for a long night.

___________________

“That’s him,” Peter whispered to Ned as they hid behind a tuft of grass on the beach a few yards from the bar.

“Are you sure, Peter?” Ned asked as he squinted his eyes. “That doesn’t look like Captain America at all.”

Peter rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “He’s undercover—of course he doesn’t look like himself. It’s just like Falcon and the Winter Soldier—they’re trying to blend in so no one knows who they are.”

“I don’t know,” Ned said, still not convinced. “Why would Captain America be renting jet skis with the Falcon and the Winter Soldier in Jamaica? That doesn’t seem like something superheroes do.”

Peter was starting to get frustrated. “Mr. Stark told me he’d gotten really good intel that these three were down here.” He turned to his friends and began to plead. “C'mon, man. This is the first real mission Mr. Stark has given me since we went to Germany. I can’t screw this up—not like the ferry.”

Ned nodded and pulled out his phone. Zooming in as much as he could, he snapped a picture of the long-haired, bearded guy Peter was convinced was Captain America. “I guess this guy could be Cap.”

“Send me that picture,” Peter said as he pulled out his phone. “I need to text this to Mr. Stark.”

“So, if he’s Captain America, then that means your mom is on a date with the Falcon,” Ned surmised with a nod. “Way to go, Aunt May.”

Peter slapped his friend. “Ew, gross, man. That’s my aunt you’re talking about.”

“What about her friend, Debbie?” Ned asked as his eyes grew large. “She’s going to hook up with the Winter Soldier.”

“No one is hooking up,” Peter said with a huff. “May isn’t like that.” He paused for a moment. “Debbie? Yeah, probably, but not May.”

“Ooh,” Ned said as he began to chuckle. “It looks like Cap is getting lucky tonight, too.”

“What?”

Ned pointed to where the man and the bartender were closing up and heading toward a small bungalow beside the bar.

Peter looked back down at his phone. “Do you think Mr. Stark needs to know about that?”

Ned shrugged. “I don’t know? Is it important who he’s banging?”

“What if she’s a Russian spy?” Peter asked as his mind started reeling with possibilities.

“Good point,” Ned agreed. “Better let him know just in case.”

Peter’s lips formed a thin line as he nodded in agreement. Typing out a quick update, he hit send and motioned for Ned to follow him back down the beach to the Sandals resort where Mr. Stark had booked their “vacation.”

___________________

The next few days were like a dream for YN. Not only had Grant stayed the entire night, but he’d spent the next few nights at her place as well. Thomas and James had brought their new lady friends to the bar, and she’d immediately hit it off with the native New Yorkers. It had been nice to find out what was going on back home, and to hear that the city was finally starting to recover from the infamous battle that had torn it to shreds. YN had thought it was odd that the three men seemed uncomfortable talking about the Battle of New York, but she brushed it off and continued chatting with the ladies.

Thomas’ friend, May, had brought her nephew and his friend along with her, but the two boys opted to stay at the beach while the adults enjoyed drinks at the bar. YN had offered them sodas or virgin mixed drinks, but they seemed content to hang out by themselves.

James had given Grant a knowing look the first time he’d reached out to graze his fingers over her knuckles. YN wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she hoped that both James and Thomas approved of her new relationship with their friend. She didn’t want it to change the dynamic between the four of them, although, as long as they were distracted with their new lady friends, it didn’t seem to matter what Grant did with his spare time.

“Who’s that down there with Peter and Ned?” Debbie asked as she gestured toward the beach with her daiquiri.

May shielded her eyes against the setting sun as she squinted toward the beach. “It looks like Tony Stark.”

YN had been asking Grant a question, so she saw the minute his demeanor morphed from fun and lighthearted to lethal. The instant change in him—as well as Thomas and James—had her taking a step back.

Grant turned toward his friends. “Go. Now.”

Thomas shook his head as James stood up from his stool and let out a resigned sigh. “Not without you.”

All three of the ladies were confused at the sudden turn of events, but it was May that finally spoke first. “He’s not that bad, honestly. A little pompous and full of himself, maybe.”

“Rogers,” Tony called out as he stepped under the awning of the bar and removed his sunglasses.

When Grant turned around to face him, YN felt as though the ground beneath her was crumbling. She’d known that the three men had been hiding from something, but now she was slowly coming to realize that she had no idea who she’d been sharing her bed with the past few nights.

“Tony,” Grant said warily as he moved to stand in front of Thomas and James. “You should have called first.”

Tony took an outdated flip phone from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. “I would’ve, but I didn’t think this thing got good reception this far south.” Turning serious, he gave Grant a hard look. “What are you doing down here, Steve?”

It was as though someone had poured ice water down her back. Steve Rogers? The Steve Rogers? She turned to stare at Grant, but she had a hard time resigning the bearded man she’d come to love with America’s favorite son. It all made sense, though—the chivalry, the odd references, even the antiquated language he was so fond of using. She’d been sleeping with Captain America.

“We’re not doing anything wrong, Tony,” Thomas said as he stepped forward to stand beside Steve.

YN’s attention was now on the other two men she’d come to think of as friends.  Thomas and James obviously weren’t their names, but she honestly had no idea who they were. Since she’d come to the island, she’d tried to stay away from the goings-on in the world.

“I know,” Tony said, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. “The kid’s been filling me in on your little enterprise.” He looked over toward the jet skis and food truck down the beach. “Gotta say, I love the name.”

“What do you want, Stark?” James asked as he gave Tony a hardened look.

Tony gave James a wink. “I’m not here for you, stubby.”

“Wait just one damn minute,” May said as she finally realized what was going on. Turning on Tony, she stalked over to him and began poking him in the chest with her finger. “Did you send Peter down here to spy on fugitives for you? What in the hell were you thinking?”

“May, May, no,” Peter said frantically as he rushed past Tony to grab his aunt’s arm. “It’s okay, really. Cap wouldn’t hurt me—he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He looked up at Steve. “Right?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but once he heard Peter’s voice, he realized who he was. “You’re the spider-kid from Queens. The one from Germany?”

May’s eyes grew large and she was about to tear into someone, but who would’ve gotten the tongue-lashing was left up in the air as Tony quickly interceded. “Happy. Take the kid and his family back to the resort. I’ll be along shortly.”

YN stood slack-jawed as a burly man in a suit began ushering a cussing May, a dumbstruck Debbie, a stuttering Peter, and his starry-eyed friend toward the road where a sleek black car sat idling at the curb. So much was happening so quickly, she was having a hard time keeping track of it all.

Once it was just the men, Tony turned to Steve with a pleading look in his eye. “Something big is coming. I don’t know what, but it’s bad. We need all hands on deck.” He paused and gave Steve a hopeful look. “Whaddya say? Want to get the band back together?”

Steve let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What about Ross?”

“I’ll take care of Ross,” Tony assured him.

“What about me?” James asked.

Tony let out a huff. “I still hate you, Barnes. But Rogers won’t come back with out you two numbnuts, so that doesn’t leave me much choice.”

“You goin’ to send me back to the Raft?” Thomas asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Tony.

“No one’s going to the Raft,” Tony assured them. “I told you I’d deal with Ross, and I will. Rhodey will keep him occupied while we deal with this threat. After that, we’ll have some leverage to get your names cleared with the UN.”

Steve turned to look at Thomas and his gaze landed on YN. With a heavy heart, he realized that in a matter of minutes, he’d completely lost her trust. The look she was giving him was a mix of hurt and anger and he couldn’t very well blame her.

With a sigh, he looked away and focused on his friends. “Whaddya say, guys? It’s your call.”

“I say we stay,” James began, but before Thomas or Steve could reply, he held up a hand. “But I know your dumbass. You’ll never sleep knowing the world is in danger and you didn’t go help.”

Thomas shook his head. “I hate to admit it, but I agree with Buck.”

Steve shook his head. “You two go get what we’ll need while I talk to Tony.”

Thomas and James nodded and turned to go. They both stopped and gave YN a sorrowful look. Muttering apologies, they shuffled off toward the apartment they shared over the rental shop.

“Can I get a drink?” Tony asked YN once the other two were gone.

“Make that two?” Steve asked with a grimace.

YN didn’t say anything as she turned to pour the drinks. He hadn’t specified, but she assumed Tony Stark was a whisky man, so that’s what she gave him. Feeling as though she’d be intruding, she started to walk toward the other end of the bar, but Steve stopped her.

“YN,” he said softly as he reached out to touch her arm. “Please let me explain.”

Tony narrowed his eyes as he took in the scene. Pointing back and forth between the two, he slowly began to nod as if he’d just figured it out. “Something’s going on here, isn’t it?” He focused his attention on her. “YN, right? I’m taking it you didn’t know?”

She looked to Steve to see if he’d answer, but when he simply hung his head and took a sip of his whisky, she turned back to Tony. “I knew he had a past—we all do—but I didn’t know he was Steve Rogers. He told me his name was Grant.”

“It is,” Steve said looking up at her with pleading eyes. “It’s my middle name.”

She shrugged. “So, it was a half-lie, but still a lie.” She shook her head as all the anger she’d been feeling over the past few minutes finally came to a head. “Was it all a lie? Did I ever mean anything to you?”

Tony started to make a snarky remark, but Steve held out a hand to stop him. “Not now, Tony.” Looking back at YN, his shoulders slumped. “It wasn’t a lie—I swear. I never meant to get involved, but…”

“I made the first move,” she finished for him as she shook her head. “You tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. I guess it’s my own fault.” She grabbed a rag and started toward the other end of the bar. “Don’t worry about saying goodbye—you’ve got more important things to do.”

This time Steve let her go.

“Damn, Rogers,” Tony said with a low whistle. “You sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve said as he downed the rest of his drink.

Tony laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Look, take it from someone who’s been there—go fix things with the lady before you go. If you don’t, it’ll just weigh on your mind and I need you on your game for this one, buddy.”

Tony pulled out his wallet and left a crisp hundred dollar bill on the bar before patting Steve on the back and heading toward the car that had just pulled back up to the curb. Steve let out a deep breath and thought about Tony’s advice. Maybe he was right. Leaving things like this would be something he’d regret for a long time to come.

He walked around the bar and came up behind YN. Reaching out, he laid a hand on her arm. “YN.”

She turned to look at him, and he could see the redness in her eyes where she was trying not to cry. He hated that he’d hurt her. He should have told her the truth that first night, but would it have made this any easier?

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” he said as he reached to cup her face. “I was an idiot not to trust you.”

“Would you have ever told me?” she asked as she stared into his eyes looking for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to say yes because you mean a lot to me.”

“I mean a lot to you?” she asked with a huff of indignation as she pulled away from him.

Knowing he was going to have to lay it all on the line, he ran a hand down his face and resigned himself to the inevitable. This wasn’t how he’d thought this conversation would go, but she deserved the truth—the whole truth.

“I love you, YN.”

Her back was to him, but his whispered words were just loud enough to have her stopping in her tracks. “Don’t lie to me. Not again.”

He walked over to her and turned her around to face him. “Look at me. I wouldn’t lie about that. I love you, and I’m pretty sure you love me, too.”

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “So what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that you’re leaving.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it gives me a reason to come back.”

She opened her eyes and found him looking at her with hope-filled eyes. She’d fallen in love with those eyes, and she’d never thought she’d see the day where those feelings would be returned—but here they were.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise to do my best,” he said as he pulled her into his embrace. “Knowing that you’ll be here waiting for me will give me that much more reason to win this fight.”

“I came here to get away from superheroes and their fights,” she said with a laugh as she lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s just my luck that I’d go and fall in love with one.”

Steve’s heart swelled at her admission. “Yeah, life’s funny like that.”

She looked up and met his eye. “You’ll be careful?”

“I can’t let down my best girl, now can I?”

She framed his face with her hands as they met one another halfway. The kiss was full of sadness and regret, but she’d take what she could get at that point.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said as he pulled away.

“Until we meet again.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Until we meet again.”

___________________

YN thought about Steve’s promise to come back to her as she watched one of her regulars turn to dust before her eyes. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew it wasn’t good. Whatever battle he’d been fighting must not have gone well. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw her hand start to dematerialize in front of her. It seemed as though she wouldn’t be keeping her promise to be there waiting for him after all. As she began to fade away, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Steve.”

[dasfuzzy]

This thing still exists...?

So...I guess I'll start off by saying that the main reason for this post is because I got the Tumblr app a while back and have periodically gotten the notification that someone has liked my blog (hello, by the way), so this is twofold:

1) Give an update because, y'know, I haven't touched this thing in a long time, so there's a lot to update, and

2) Find out who's been liking my blog and why. So I guess comment, message, note, or whatever the hell people do here and let me know what got you interested in my ramblings.

I guess the three main things I would discuss here were my job, my love life, and my situation in general, so those'll be the primary focus for now. I guess I'll start with my love life just to get that out of the way as it's typically the focal point and most salacious content here (and possibly the most interesting to y'all).

Well, I'm gonna tell you right off the bat that things have changed drastically since I last was here. I will say that if you're expecting me to tell all, you're gonna be disappointed. I know in the past I never really held back on my feelings and about dishing out the truth, but this is a different situation than any in the past. All I'll really say is that since August of 2017 I've been in a committed relationship with someone that I truly love and can see myself being with for the rest of my days. Our relationship hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows, however, mostly due to nagging injuries and surgeries stemming from a work-related injury on her part (she used to be a physical therapy assistant), but I've done everything in my power to accommodate her and make things work. It hasn't been easy and it's taken it's toll on me, but at the end of the day I try to remain optimistic that things will get better with time.

Regarding my job...er, jobs, I've bounced around a bit since I was last here. I think I was still at Dave & Busters, but I was able to leave there to become a preschool/toddler teacher at a highly-accredited daycare center called Bright Horizons. It wasn't the easiest job and with me being who I am (profane and a fan of mature content, a la Game of Thrones, Walking Dead and wrestling) I felt like I was walking on eggshells at times, especially because the director was a bit of a prude, but I really enjoyed it. I was one of only two male teachers in a facility of approximately 30 teachers, so the kids really enjoyed the change of pace. I learned a lot being there, especially since I only had a few early education courses under my belt beforehand and I had some great mentors guiding me along.

Unfortunately, I made the decision to leave after 18 months for a couple of reasons:

1) The landlady finally sold the house, so my mom and I had to move (more on that later), and

2) There was an incident where I might've let slip a bit of profanity on the job. Basically it was nap time and most of the children were sleeping. I was in one of the preschool rooms at the time and at that age, some children just don't want to sleep, so we have to either try to soothe them or at least do what we can to keep them quiet so they don't wake the other children up. So I'm with another, younger teacher sitting with the non-sleepers, one of which was on the autistic spectrum and had an action plan in place that inform us of what we can and cannot do in certain situations that normally wouldn't apply to other children. Anyways, that particular child was not having any of nap/quiet time and decided to start walking around the room. In my frustration, I might've uttered under my breath "what the fuck". A few days later, I get a call from the director and she asks me if I used any profanity while in the classroom. I tell her that I don't recall doing so; she tells me that another teacher informed her that I had and she would need me to type up a formal statement of what I recall from that particular event. I stuck to my guns and said that I honestly don't recall doing so and, after submitting that to her, I was put on an indefinite administrative leave. As much as I loved that job, I took that as a sign that maybe it was time to find another job, something that pays better because I knew I was going to be moving within the next few months.

On the first day of my "leave", I asked friends if they knew of any good-paying jobs that had openings. I was only making $12.40/hr, which is only $.40 over minimum wage, so I was definitely open to suggestions. My best friend told me to apply to where he worked, Fitzgerald Tile, because they were looking for warehouse workers. He said they could start me at $18, so I leapt at the opportunity. I went down that Monday and met the warehouse supervisor to have an interview. I'll give you an almost word-for-word retelling of how that interview went:

Him: "Do you know how to drive a forklift?"

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "Great, you're hired."

Me: "Oh...okay."

Okay, that might be stretching it a bit, but that was more or less how it went. Really, he outlined some of the basic duties, asked if I was able to lift up to 50lbs unassisted, know that I'm expected to work 50 hours a week, then had me fill out the application, mostly for the sake of having it on file. He told me that I would just have to meet with the HR person to finalize the paperwork and discuss pay and my schedule, then I'd be good to go. Here's the thing: I never got to talk to the HR person. Ever. I was waiting for over an hour then told that we could do it another time, so I just went home. I should've noticed how sketchy the whole thing was. I should've picked up on all the red flags, but I didn't. So I go home, call my boss, and tell her that I'm giving my two weeks notice. She obliges and I ask if I could come visit down the road. She says that it would be in the best interest of the children that I stay away so they don't get the wrong idea. Basically I haven't been back there besides one time when I stopped by after hours to catch up with my favorite colleague and mentor, Jen.

Anywho, here I am on November 19th at the asscrack of dawn starting at the tile warehouse. I meet with the warehouse supervisor (I don't fucking remember his name; he's honestly not worth remembering) and he asks if I know how to drive a forklift. Uh...we talked about that when you hired me, but anyways, I say yes. "Great. Hop on, drive around a bit, get a feel for it, then get to work." Um...I dunno about those guys, but when I was at Lowe's where I learned to drive a forklift, we had to be licensed to operate one. Not to mention if they bothered to do a background check, they'd learn that I was fired from there for getting into an accident on a forklift and causing damage to a bay door. But I do as they say; I grab an order sheet ("grab the biggest ones first", they tell me) and get to it. Basically the way they run things is they put the sheets out on a table, everyone grabs one, gathers everything up on a pallet, then drop it in the outgoing delivery area, then do it all again until every order has been filled. I should also mention that I started right as they were moving warehouses to North Reading, so after the orders were pulled, we had to get other pallets ready to ship to the new place. Remember how I said I was never able to talk to the HR person? Well, I was never given a schedule because of that, so I guess it was understood that I would come in at 7 in the morning and work until everyone was done, which typically wasn't until 8 or 9 at night. I adhered to that mindset for maybe a week and a half; after that, I started sneaking out after at least doing my 8 hours a day. One day the supervisor caught me and said that I can't do that again. I didn't give a fuck. Another day he tells me that I'm not working fast enough and need to step it up. Maybe if someone took the time to train me on the other lift that was smaller and had forks that extended, I'd be able to be more efficient, but no; the only machines I could use were the huge lifts that are barely able to maneuver in the narrow fucking aisles and the order picker, which is basically a standing lift with a small tray-sized platform that you could place stuff on and lower it back down. That thing was kinda fun because it had controlls that kinda felt like piloting a mech and it was fast as hell.

Fast forward a few days and a few hours into my shift the supervisor tells me that I'm being let go and he hands me my last check and a pamphlet for unemployment benefits. No reasoning, just that I'm gone. Probably because I was "working too slow" and would leave when I felt like it, but I could give two shits; they never cared about me and I was tired of working under those unreasonable conditions. I manage keep my composure and start heading out, telling the few friends that I made there that I was fired; they wished me well and said I'd move onto something better. No shit. Once I get to my car, I burst out crying, trying to comprehend the gravity of my situation. I text my girlfriend and she asks if I want to come over to her house; I do partly because I needed the emotional support and partly because she was only 5 minutes away and my drive home would've been about 30 minutes. Honestly, I probably could've reported them to OSHA since they were in violation of god knows how many rules and regulations (hell, during the first week at the new warehouse, someone managed to destroy an entire bay: 3 shelves with 4 pallets each, totalling I believe over $6000 worth of product), but I just wanted to wash my hands of that place entirely. Since it was mid December, I decided to just take time to enjoy the holidays before looking for a new job, especially since I had made enough money there to keep myself afloat for about a month.

So, regarding the move, mom and I spent the last few years looking for places nearby for when the time came, but a lot of places were either in undesirable towns, were too expensive (this is Massachusetts; rent prices suck balls), or didn't meet our needs/standards. Ideally we were aiming to find a small house or even duplex to move into since we'd been in a 2-story, 3-bedroom house since January 2001, but we ended up settling for a 2-bedroom apartment in a small complex in Reading. It's been a bit of an adjustment for many reasons, but we've made it work. One of the biggest annoyances is that we don't have any laundry machines in our unit or even our building, so if we have to wash our clothes, we need to bring our stuff to one of the neighboring buildings that has a credit card-opperated laundry room with seven washers and 8 dryers. Kinda obnoxious to have to go through all that trouble and pay to do it, but condidering heat, hot water, and facility maintenance and snow removal are all covered in our rent (which is $1750/month), it's a small price to pay, I suppose.

Once we got all settled into the new place, I started job hunting again. For years I've wanted to do something technical, like be a plumber or maintenance engineer, but it's nigh impossible to find entry-level jobs like that. I somehow managed to find a job posting on Craigslist for a preventative maintenance engineer at a hotel in my old hometown of Woburn (ironically it's across from my old Dave & Busters), put in an application, and about a week later I had the job. Basically what I do is go through the guestrooms and make sure everything is in working order and is clean. I do about 2 rooms a day, repairing things as needed, be it electrical, plumbing, painting, or whatever else. I started back in early February of this year and in April the chief engineer was unceremoniously fired, leaving me as the sole engineer at the hotel. We had outside help come in periodically, but generally speaking I was the one keeping the place together until we hired a new chief this past October. I had to learn how to take care of an outdoor pool and how to take readings on it daily. I had to represent my hotel at engineer trainings normally meant for chiefs. Hell, I was very close to being promoted to chief myself until they found the new guy. But my efforts weren't in vain: our scores from our guest surveys for maintenance and upkeep were always above expectations and everyone at the hotel appreciate and respect what I do there. They raised my pay as high as they could go because of the amount of work I was putting in. My boss even got me two $75 tickets to a Ring of Honor show since he was a wrestling fan like myself. I think it's safe to say that I definitely bounced back from Fitzgerald.

I guess that about wraps things up. It's currently two weeks until Christmas, so I've got that to look forward to. I'd apologize for the lengthy rant, but I think that's par for the course on my blog. Again, if you're new (or even if you're not), feel free to leave a comment, note, message, or whatever and let me know what brought you to my blog or if there's any questions, comments, or suggestions for things that I could discuss. I figure I've been away from this thing for a long time, why not be a bit more active. Anyways, that's all I got for now. Hope y'all are well; take care of yourself!

[davetheshady]

may I politely request ⭐dealer's choice director's commentary⭐for pretty much any part of Love is All You Need to Destroy Your Enemies?

Did you mean: infodump about Chapter 5?

We start off in medias res during Pteranodon Attack-Gate from Episode 4: PTA Meeting. Since most of the fic runs parallel to WTNV’s storyline for the first ~two years, the way I narrowed down which events to feature was to read through the transcripts and take note of which ones had Carlos, which ones featured science/magic/time travel-related elements, which ones had weird discrepancies or unsolved details that could be explained by Carlos/science/magic/time travel/all of the above, and which ones I just liked a lot. 

Incidentally, Cecil issues a correction that the winged reptiles in question were actually pterodactyls, not pteranodons, which was then promptly forgotten by the showrunners lol.

"—And then Kelly pulled her hamstring while they were doing the Fixing of a Nail position. I'm trying to convince her that she and Joe should do yoga together, I think it would really cut back on minor injuries and also they both look great in yoga pants. Anything new with you, Carlos?"

"Nothing that compares to... hamstring injuries," says Carlos, from his position on top of the Sciencemobile.

"All right," says Kate, adjusting an enormous pair of mirrored aviator shades. "Then describe the Barstow formation."

Since literal character doubling was such an important part of the plot, I had a lot of fun with thematic character doubling, too. Carlos and Kate (and the other grad students) are actually pretty close in age, and here we see her willing to put herself into danger to get the job done while casually chatting with her colleagues. Also, there’s a nice dose of karma for the books in Carlos having to deal with someone else oversharing details about their relationships, compounded by the fact that unlike his all of Kate’s are actually true. (In nicer doubling news: Kate is the one who gets her degree in science, has functional romantic relationships, AND continues to work in Night Vale, which are all eventually Carlos’ hashtag life goals.) 

"Maybe it was future you," asks Julie, who does not sound appropriately concerned for the potentially diverted course of the Currents of Time. Or for the potentially diverted course of the already unlinear life of Carlos.

This is the first conversation where she’s ‘Julie’ in his mental narration. I enjoyed having her be hilariously unsympathetic to his concerns here, because her priorities are still very different, but it also sets up a baseline. She doesn’t bother worrying about hypotheticals from the weird shit, but actual hard data (like, Carlos not sleeping and having minor breakdowns in her lab) is what prompts her to share reactions besides SCIENCE! and snark.

His stomach roils at the thought of more time travel. "Some kind of illusion is more likely," he says: some person or creature temporarily assuming his form, probably for sinister purposes. He reluctantly adds those weird doubles from the sandstorm to his list of possible suspects, though his dissolved right in front of him in the middle of next March and there haven't been any sandstorms recently.

oh hey haha what’s that

One of my biggest pet peeves in fiction is when allegedly intelligent characters ignore obvious plot points so the writer can railroad the story in their chosen direction. On the other hand, it is genuinely difficult to avoid spoiling your plot twists if your main character is actively trying to figure them out. I leaned heavily on “the character has all the basic details… along with so much other information they can’t realistically narrow it down”, combined with some red herrings: an obvious one (illusion magic) and hopefully a more convincing one (time travel as the only relevant plot: it's DEFINITELY involved, but its presence is obscuring another facet of the plot altogether).

There's always a risk that astute readers will figure it out, but, like… so? That just means instead of shocking plot twist reveal, they get an “I KNEW IT!” reveal, which is equally satisfying in a different way. As long as the characters have convincing reasons for not figuring it out, it's hopefully still enjoyable to follow along with them as they wander around in the dark. 

(And just for clarification: that was Doppel-Carlos crashing the town hall meeting when he and Dr. Raith were testing out time vortices.) 

Andre hands him a copy of the Night Vale Daily Journal. “’Look your best to face the void. Smooth-chinned souls are most enjoyed’,” reads Carlos. “‘Burma-Shave.’”

"No, below the ads," says Andre.

1) ‘character reads wrong piece of information in paper’ is a classic goof (“There’s a sale at Penney’s!”) and I found it very amusing to repeatedly attribute it to Carlos, since he’s genuinely trying to locate the important information. Unfortunately for him, he lives in Night Vale and no longer has a filter for “useless nonsense”, because even the nonsense has proven relevant and/or kinda murdery before.

2) Burma-Shave! This was passed down to me as part of our Great American Roadtrip Family Lore (I come from a long line of roadtrippers) and it’s definitely the kind of kitschy 50s detail that fits so well in Night Vale.

"Oh!" says Cecil. "What were you studying?"

"Bioremediation for contaminated pit lakes via sulfur-reducing bacteria," says Carlos truthfully.

Why? Because I edited one of my friends’ papers on it, that’s why. (Birds kept landing on it and dying, which is also a very Night Vale detail.)

When he returns, he finds Cecil standing by the record player with his back against the wall, staring fixedly at Carlos’ vinyl copy of Ixnay on the Hombre.

One of the DF books (I think White Night) had a hilariously high number of characters showing up wearing band t-shirts, and Carlos’ was for The Offspring. (The original file name for this fic was Original Prankster, back when I thought it would be three chapters long.)

“It’s about a wizard stranded in a strange, uncharted desert territory,” [Cactus Judy] says serenely.

Cactus Jane! I decided to make her a recurring character because 1) she’s in a time travel episode (Episode 18: The Traveler), 2) both she and TMITJ had the detail where no one can remember their real name, which seemed significant, and 3) WTNV itself did not have very many recurring female characters at that point. She’s into Shakespeare because I personally knew a lot of relevant Shakespeare quotes, but also as a hint that’s she’s a lot older (and thus a lot more supernatural) than she seems: Shakespeare was a HUGE part of pop culture in the 19th century, particularly in the southwest. Theater companies used to make more money going on tour through states with precious metal mines than they did during their whole season in the big coastal cities, probably because jaded city folks never threw gold nuggets on stage to show their appreciation.

If life is a contest between good and evil, Cecil would be one of the people handing out stickers just for participating.

This is one of my favorite lines.

My plan is fool-proof! It's sheer elegance in its simplicity!

Look, if you enjoyed this fic, WTNV, and/or The Dresden Files, you should probably go watch The Middleman. Yes, I know it’s not streaming, do it anyway. Load up on antivenom and go rent it from your local library.

“Could you [create a time vortex]?""Oh, for sure," says Carlos. "All I'd need would be a couple years to do nothing but work on a highly illegal spell and figure out a way to steal an entire ley-line's worth of power and excise my sense of morality and self-preservation.”

And WHAT are the odds of THAT

It's not that Carlos doesn't like him. It just wouldn't be fair to lead him on when Carlos wouldn't actually—

Well, Carlos wouldn’t mind asking but he doesn’t normally go for—

Okay, Carlos could definitely make an exception for Cecil and—

And—

oh NO he accidentally used logic to make himself admit he has FEELINGS

One of the reasons I love this pairing is that you have Cecil, who is incredibly emotionally open (all the time, on public radio) as a distinct contrast to Carlos, who is so used to putting up a very specific facade that he even does it to himself and then struggles when he doesn't have it to rely on. It creates conflict, but it also means they have very different perspective they can share with each other. 

"Did the earth move for you, too?" says Cecil.

"Bwuh?" replies Carlos.

"At the monitoring station," says Cecil, because right, they're talking about science and not about how Carlos may or may not have accidentally developed a tiny, tiny crush on Cecil, who is standing right in front of him and looking extremely interested in what he's saying and will commit his words to memory and lovingly repeat them for all the world, or at least all of Night Vale and anyone else who received the same odd death curse as Carlos, to hear.

"Oh. Hmm – unh," replies Carlos, then shakes his head. Not talking, that's the way to go. That way he won't accidentally say something he doesn't mean, or worse, something he does mean but probably shouldn't say. Cecil can ask him science questions and he can shake his head yes or no, and maybe refer him wordlessly to supplementary materials, and it will all be very professional and—

"Where did you get your shirt?" asks Cecil. "It fits you so well."

"I'll look at my notes and computer models and see if I can figure out what's going on," Carlos blurts out, and practically runs from the room.

One of the reasons I started writing this fic (SEPTEMBER 2013, BABY god I feel old) was because we all knew Carlos was immensely important to Cecil, but had relatively little information about him, and ALL of it was filtered through our unreliable narrator. So… I just kind of ran with that. 

But on top of the obvious unreliability of “didn't notice Carlos was a wizard from a different series”, I wanted to do it on the smaller scale, too, and put a different spin on the touchstones of their growing relationship that everyone was already familiar with. So this interaction is now a crisis for both of them, and for dramatically/hilariously different reasons. 

“If you’re worried about going native, I’ve got bad news for you, buddy, because you do more chanting than anyone I’ve met.”

Another one of my favorite lines.

“I’ve had to hunt down people I know before, and trust me, it’s not a fun date night!”

Between Molly and fanon interpretations of Cecil, Carlos’ type is apparently 1) weird tattoos, 2) unusually-colored hair, and 3) can kill him

There's a brief hiss from the TV's speakers, and then Cecil says, in a small, forlorn voice, “I don't know if he listens to me, sometimes.”

Carlos puts his head down and laughs bitterly.

I LOVE IRONY 

But even though I wanted to subvert the surface meaning, Cecil DOES still have a point. He got a good look at Carlos’ soul when they first met and still fell in love instantly, but Carlos has a difficult time hearing that because at this point he fundamentally does not believe he’s worthy of that kind of love. In order to truly believe Cecil, he also has to start learning to love and accept himself. (It’s very much a work in progress, but nobody’s perfect.) The title isn’t just meant to refer to romantic love – self-love, friendship, familial love, and unconditional love for the humanity of his trash fire town are equally important, because they all support each other.

hmu for more dvd commentary!

[thesickpanda]

Where is My Mind?

Stress can make you feel like you're going crazy.

I cannot emphasize this enough. Long-term, persistent and intense stress well above your baseline levels can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Life is stressful and when I think back to when the intense periods of stress started in mine it gets a bit ridiculous because I grew up in a domestically violent household with severely mentally ill parents in a country on the brink of civil war with one of the highest crime rates in the world. So I have been kinda stressed for a very long time. However, in more recent months, the level of acute stress I've been experiencing has made me feel disconnected from reality. I've experienced derealisation a number of times due to Lyrica withdrawal and accidental cannabis highs. But this one is different. The depersonalisation I’ve been experiencing is from pure, unrelenting stress. I really did question my sanity more than once.

 In July, I saw my psychologist to describe this feeling to her. She very helpfully drew a diagram which explained the neuroscience of why we feel this way when we've experienced high levels of stress for a long time. It was really helpful to see that because it reassured me that what I was feeling was, as much as this can be said, "normal", given the amount of strain I was under. But the stress hasn’t let up since then and I have been well above my baseline for much too long.

 Long story short, I haven't really recovered since my family visited me last year. 2018 was a year from hell. 2019 hasn’t been much better but for different reasons. Basically, the hardships I’ve endured being the leader of a non-profit all these years reached critical mass and finally, at long last, broke me. After 8 years of pouring all my heart, soul and every last spoon I had into it, I quit last month…and to very little fanfare at that. 3 people turned up for our final meeting, and only because we needed to hand them the organization’s physical assets. We had a little unplanned dinner out and that was that.

I'm grateful to the handful of people who have reassured me they will continue its legacy beyond my departure, genuinely I am, but overall I think I stayed in that position at least a year longer than I should have. I feel incredibly jaded and cynical about the whole thing.

 And I’m sorry if this offends anyone, but screw Sydney’s activists. The vast majority of them can barely call themselves that. I have never been in such an apathetic, vain, self-centered and lazy city when it comes to political activism. This migrant has had enough of trying to get Australians to care about their own issues. (And yeah, the people I handed the non-profit over to? Also migrants).

It is telling that the final meeting was also the night before we moved house (because we always had to wrap our own lives around the goings on of that organisation, not the other way around, which is another major reason we quit). So after an hour and a half’s drive into the city, we had to get home late to get up early the next day to start that fun process.

 But I am getting ahead of myself. Before we ever got to moving day, we first had to find a house. If you haven’t done it before, let me tell you, the process of house hunting on a tight budget in a hostile market is disgustingly stressful.

We were looking from June. The property market in Sydney is unbelievably expensive and even though it experienced a so-called "correction" for a year, (meaning that house prices stabilized instead of continuing to rise), that ended just as we entered into the property hunt. I am extremely grateful that we got the house we did at the price we did, but my God, getting to that point nearly killed me. I keep explaining to people that it felt as if my partner and I ran full blast over broken glass to the edge of a dock, leapt several metres and grabbed onto the barnacles of a departing ship by our fingernails. I really do think we may have been among the last millennials that got on that “property” ship, and it was only because, at long last, we had help from my partner's extremely wealthy parents. After shaming us for a decade for not being able to afford impossible house prices (“ok boomer…”), he finally relented and helped us out. Again, I'm grateful, but also disgusted that this is the world we live in. Housing should be a human right and we shouldn't have this intergenerational greed and infighting over something so basic. Forgive my inner socialist. 

Finding the house was only the first part of the equation; moving into it was the next step.

 The moving process was incredibly arduous. At the time we should have been packing up the house, my partner's work decided to send him interstate for business on multiple occasions. By the time moving day came round, we were not ready and we couldn't afford to pay removalists. We enlisted the help of two amazing friends and Joe's brother-in-law. Again, super grateful that I had their help, but my God, was it intense. It took the better part of four days to move everything. We had to pay off the mortgage and the rent for the previous place for a two-week period, putting considerable strain on our savings. At the same time, we needed to get some work done in the new house so that was being done while we were trying to sort out the old house. The rental laws in this country are a joke and are widely considered to be abusive to renters, including by many of my American friends who now live here. I doubt we will ever see our bond returned, even though we were treated like crap living there for three years in a house that was not sealed, had no insulation or air conditioning, leaked and was draughty, didn't have proper doors et cetera et cetera. I mean, we had maggots falling from the ceiling… twice. The place was rotting and rotten but because my partner couldn't completely colour match the paint when he tried to cover up what was absolutely reasonable wear and tear on one of the walls, I'm sure we will lose all that. As usual, the landlord will claim it costs our entire $1800 bond to get a $50 an hour painter in to patch up one wall.  They always do this. In your contract it says reasonable wear and tear are a few knocks and dings on the wall and that the tenant is not expected to pay for that. In reality, in every rental we have ever lived in,  the landlord has refused to refund the bond when there’s been even the slightest bit of damage, even if we had a record of being model tenants. It was almost comical how hard my partner was trying in the middle of the move to cover up a few scrapes on the walls from moving furniture in and out. It all came to nothing because for love nor money he couldn't find the correct match of paint. And then of course he had to mow the entire grounds of the last rental when he really wanted to be using his weekends to sort out and unpack the new house. Good God, it was awful.

 My partner and I barely spent any quality time together during this period and he was extremely stressed out and distant from me. I totally understand why but the whole thing flared every single one of my conditions and I needed him as my carer. But he couldn’t really do that, as he was trying to do literally everything else. Moving house is hard on a healthy body, never mind one with two chronic pain disorders, irritable bowel and generalised anxiety disorder. And then (because of course), a family member of mine (one of the abusers) picked that moment in time to start harassing me, thereby triggering my PTSD which led to a nervous breakdown which led to intense depersonalisation, insomnia and nausea. Everyone and everything seemed unfamiliar to me, even my partner. I started to doubt whether or not I loved myself or anyone else anymore. I just felt so completely and utterly disconnected from the world. I began to lie awake at night terrified that I was fading away, that I could no longer feel anything other than fear. All the time, people kept saying, “congratulations on the new house! You must be so excited!” But all I could feel was sickness and dread.

 Two weeks after moving in, I had to drop my Lyrica one more time. This drop has been very difficult. All of the stress has led to some dark thoughts in the back of my mind which of course Lyrica then co-opts and exaggerates. I have had a more than a few moments of suicidal ideation. Everything in my life on paper has improved. We are now homeowners, we live in a beautiful part of the world, we've made some new friends lately, things are settling down et cetera et cetera. But I feel like I'm in shell shock after this year and last year. I haven't even had time to process that I am no longer the president of the not-for-profit I founded and formulated an identity around. I just haven't had the time to process literally anything. I've been more exhausted that I have ever felt. Oh, I'm sure everyone will say, “this too shall pass”. But I do not believe that bullshit. Yes, this individual stressor will pass but more horror will come and I know that makes me sound super negative but I just cannot remember a period of time when things were calm for… I can't remember. I just feel like I've been in a hurricane forever.

 So yeah, I'm writing this post while experiencing Lyrica withdrawal which makes me depressed and anxious. It's probably colouring my vision on everything. Fine. But I have been going through Lyrica withdrawal for two years, so it’s kinda become my normal. My final drop is on 26 December after which I will experience two more months of withdrawal and hopefully, after that, some semblance of sanity again. In the midst of all this I have to study for my citizenship test which is at the end of this month. I don't get any government support for my disability until I have been a citizen of this country for eight years, and as I’d like to survive my 40s, I need to get citizenship now. But yeah… studying an eighty-page textbook with an addled brain is just so much fun.

 Of course, during this time we haven’t have Internet because we had to disconnect the old place and it takes an age for it to get reconnected at the new place. We only recently acquired it at the new house. So there are piles of emails waiting for me. Many of them are from friends and I'm glad for that. But there is also a lot of life admin I now need to do. I have to change my address on every account I hold, which is really tedious. We have also had to organise time with family. Because my partner's family helped us get this house, we feel especially obliged to go to every single one of the family events, of which there are many. He comes from a big Catholic family so every relative who comes to visit, every party that's being held, every birthday, wedding, funeral and religious holiday, we’re now expect to attend. We have several in the next few weekends, taking up most of the time we *needed* to be unpacking the house. We’re obligated now.

 In all this negativity, though, I want to say that I am genuinely grateful to be one of the lucky ones to have a house. I know it sounds like I am whining about a good thing. It's not that I'm not glad for this (I know how ridiculously privileged we are). I just haven't been able to really feel it yet. I think that regardless of what happened this year, I’d be feeling this way. Something broke in me last year and just hasn't really come back. I feel shattered.

 And all my chronic pain conditions have been wearing me down too. I found out this year that the operation that cost me and my friends so much money (to remove that nerve in my foot) had failed. Or rather, the surgeon had completely botched it up. I have PTSD from that surgery. Just the thought of going back to have it done again fills me with heart racing terror and cold sweats. I’ve had numerous surgeries before that one and been fine, but the reaction I had from the anesthetic last time was so severe, and the recovery so long, that I genuinely fear it more than almost anything else. And yet I need to go in for that nightmare all over again in 2020. I'm going to be asked to trust a different surgeon to do the same so-called “simple operation” to restore some functionality to my left foot. My right knee is probably also going to need surgery since it has been resistant to any physiotherapy rehabilitation. And on top of all this, my poor partner's health has also taken a hit this year from the stress which is worrying me. Because I can always do with some more worry…

 But hey! This too shall pass! You should be happy! Life is great now! Yay yay yay!

Fuck, sometimes it just want to be allowed to feel shit and to have other people say “okay you can feel shit now. Yes, some good things have happened but right now you need to process the bad and that's okay too”. My lord, if people could just do that for me. If they could just let me feel what the fuck I need to feel.

 What I feel is exhausted, scared, freaked out, traumatized, weird, sick, angry, overwhelmed and fed up. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else.

[purplesurveys]

378

For a change. I love Internet people for never running out of survey ideas.

Just say what you think of (doesn't have to be one-word answers) when I mention these. Quick, simple, just for fun. Curtain: I remember a story JM told us of when he nearly burned his house down when he was younger - he was flying paper airplanes but not without lighting the tips on fire. One of the planes landed on the curtain and I think it burned that particular room pretty bad or something. Door: I have a door to my right at the moment. It’s brown and I know my dog is waiting outside because I can hear his paws. Shoe: We went shoe hunting yesterday for Joacky, because he wanted a pair of the Nike Cortez. It’s widely popular in the PH right now so even though we visited like 7 shoe stores yesterday, we weren’t able to find one in the color that he likes. Pants: I finally got a pair of mom jeans yesterday and I can’t wait to wear it for school. I’m tired of wearing the same bottoms. Wig: I attended a workshop a few months ago where the speaker disclosed that she has leukemia, and she took off the wig she had been wearing the whole time to show us her head. I also remember the RuPaul Stans part of Twitter because they say ‘wig’ all the time...

Makeup: Kate made me her subject last Thursday and she played with my face and put makeup on it. Ended up feeling really pretty because she did a pretty awesome job. Instagram: I snubbed Instagram for the longest time but thought that a ‘one-pic-for-every-day-of-the-year’ dump account wouldn’t hurt, so I made one of those for 2019. My photography skills are absolutely nowhere to be found, and my gallery is super haphazard, but I really want to make an effort to store memories this year. YouTube: Hmm first thing I thought of was PewDiePie. I subscribed to the dude when he had like 60,000 subscribers eight years ago and only had a couple of Amnesia montages up. I always feel like a proud momma/early bird whenever I remember how far and how big he’s gotten since. Life: Exhaustion, mainly. It’s gonna start snowballing by next year when I graduate. It’ll be nonstop from there - facing the prospect of coming out to my parents, graduating, getting a job, getting my first credit card, moving out, paying bills...it’s all very exhausting, exhilarating, exciting, and overwhelming to think about. Chili: Gabie and I had Japanese for early dinner last week, and I was a little weirded out by the restaurant because each seat had a red chili pepper on the placemat? I’m talking every damn seat in the place??? Idk if it’s some sort of good luck charm for the owners but it made things very slightly unsettling hahaha. Cherry: There was a WWE Diva named Cherry like ten years ago who had the gimmick of a 50′s chick, I think...I was never quite sure what her character was supposed to be, but she had roller-skates every time she went to the ring and would sometimes wear outfits with polka dots so I thought she was pretty cute.   Neil: Armstrong. Haha I was going through Reddit awhile ago when I saw a video of Buzz Aldrin punch a dude who went up to him and said that the moon landing was a hoax. Not exactly Neil Armstrong but still a good story. Drive: I like watching car chases. It’s almost...therapeutic when the suspect crashes or loses control of his car and finally gets caught. Murder: I never got into How To Get Away With Murder. It’s too fast-paced for my life. I feel like I’m the only person who doesn’t understand legal concepts because so many people are able to catch up with this show even if Viola Davis speaks a thousand words a minute and they’re all really deep words??? Idk HAHAHA. I watched like two episodes and felt super dumb after. Ice cream: OMG I hate a la mode desserts. I’d eat anything, but I wouldn’t eat two separate things with different textures. Get your ice cream away from my brownie. Water: I can’t wait to go back to the beach. Hard: Hammer? It was the first image to pop up in my head. Anne: Harry Styles’ mom is named Anne hahaha the Directioner in me jumped out, sorry not sorry. Cow: There’s this video that went viral a few months ago of a girl who was playing the accordion; all of a sudden this adorable herd of like 15 cows come running up to her and just intently watch the kid. Wholesome af. Frog: Frog legs are served in some Philippine provinces. Tastes like chicken. Cheese: My lactose intolerant ass will grate half a block of cheese (exaggeration, but you get the point) for my spaghetti. That’s the only way to enjoy pasta. Bowl: Can’t really think of anything except that bowl cuts look so cute on babies hahaha. Television: Is something I never use nowadays unless I’m staying over at a hotel. Other than that, I cannot tell you the last time I held a TV remote control to change the channel or something. Skull: There’s an episode of Friends where Phoebe brings home a skull and nonchalantly sets it on the table where Monica, Rachel, and Chandler were hanging out. Chandler goes, “Pheebs...skull?” Phoebe says, “Yeah, it’s my mom’s,” and Rachel shrieks until Phoebe clarifies that her mom owned the skull, and that the skull wasn’t of her mom. Underrated segment. Rachel’s mini-meltdown was hilarious. Seasons: I had to watch Rent for film class several months ago. Terrible movie. Cemented my dislike for musicals. This is what I remembered because afaik this is the musical that has the minutes song. Language: I can speak two and can understand some archaic/modern Spanish because they conquered us for 300 years and subsequently ruined my country. Trump: McDonald’s. An international embarrassment. Chocolate: We found this AMAZING Chocnut spread at the mall yesterday. I had my initial doubts - I thought it was gonna taste like a cheap Nutella rip-off. But it tastes exactly like Chocnut, just in the most perfect spread-y form. I plan to finish the entire jar just with a spoon. Stove: I’m terribly afraid of using any and every kitchen equipment because I have a big fear of setting the house on fire. I only ever use the stove when I’m deathly hungry and I have to make something by myself. Toy: My family recently went to a kid’s birthday party that had giveaway bags with toys inside, but seeing as we’re all teenagers now who had no use for it, it was earning dust in the house. Now, the Philippines is abound with street children so when we went out yesterday, my mom gave the bag to a couple of kids who were knocking on our car. I know I’m not supposed to romanticize the situation, but they had the biggest smiles when they realized what they got and I saw them playing merrily at the side of the street and even invited some other kids to join in. Again, not glamorizing it - I’m just happy they were happy. Video: I could never run out of things to watch on YouTube. It’s one of my favorite websites, especially when bouts of depression have to happen. Kiss: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, IT WAS ONLY A KISS. Glass: The glass section of department stores always creeped me out. One wrong move and you can knock a whole shelf down, and the ‘You break it you pay for it’ signs all over the area don’t help at all. Light: Light and queen come together in this survey and all I remember is Lightning McQueen. Queen: ^ Moon: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Moon river, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style some day.  Blue: My organization’s color is blue, so I have a soft spot for blue. Cream: I like soups that are creamy. I say this because my sister had ramen yesterday and it was so oily and salty and fatty and creamy and ugh I loved it. Dead: The Misfits. They’re more horror than death, but still. Purple: My great-grandma loved the color purple and I remember when her house used to be peppered in purple stuff. All her dresses were purple. I’m fairly sure it was the reason why it was my favorite color as a kid. Lace: Underwear, hahaha. Cardboard: Gabie was munching on sunflower seeds when I picked her up last week. I’ve never tried those, so I asked for some and I said it tasted like cardboard. I’ve never eaten cardboard but I would imagine that that’s what it tastes like. Elephant: Majestic. Deserves to be saved and properly cared for. Harry: One of my fave members of the royal family. He’s so precious. Leather: Is bad. Paisley: Isn’t there a country singer with this name? Italy: Pasta and stuff. Joey Tribbiani. Immature: I saw the gun girl Kaitlin-something on Twitter because she got viral again for a dumb-ass tweet she made. She posted pics of herself in the snow and tweeted “Look at all this global warming,” like seriously America??? Wtf do they teach y’all in your schools?????? Crime: Raisins in cookies. Angel: I had a friend named Angel - talked about her a lot in old surveys. She migrated to Canada when we were 12 and I haven’t seen her since. We do follow each other on Twitter but all she tweets about is K-pop so I had to put her on mute. Great memories with her. Boil: When I read this tweet aloud in my head, what I did think of was Charles Boyle from B99. Key: Key lime pie. Never tried it, but I’m always down to try anything. Sacrifice: The Catholic schoolgirl in me remembers the crucifixion because textbooks and teachers would overuse the phrase, “Jesus sacrificed his life for our sins” or “God sacrificed his son to save the world,” and all those cheesy lines. It’s as though the Bible’s favorite word is ‘sacrifice.’ Larry: Punk and AJ’s dog is named Larry Talbot. Dog: ^ Psychology: I took one psych elective last semester, but the prof was average at best so it didn’t really win over the course as a whole to me. Psychology was one of my ‘what-if’ courses so at the start, I was excited about taking it - but the class that I had was just so boring and the prof gave tests that were way too hard for otherwise fairly easy topics, so I quickly ran out of enthusiasm for the class. Rag: I hate touching rags. Especially wet ones UGH. Sun: Hate it, unless I’m at the beach. Lips: My friends dragged me to the makeup section of the department store last week and there were rows upon rows of lipstick testers. As someone who’s never purposely browsed for makeup, I ended up swatching like 20 shades on my wrist and looked like a five year old who doodled all over her whole left arm. Cage: The UFC ring, because it looks like a cage. Alarm: I had/have several alarms set on my phone throughout today to tell me to start working on various deliverables. For example, I had an 8 AM alarm to work on my J 196 paper; then from 8:30 AM I had an alarm to compose letters that I needed to write as my org’s secretary; then at around 10 AM, my alarm was for finishing up my readings for Kas 154 (short for kasaysayan, which means history). Official: I have a batchmate from high school who just got engaged...she was honestly one of the weirder ones back then so as much as I didn’t want to judge, it was hard to take it seriously at first, but it’s whatevs. I have no business in her life and I’m happy she’s happy. King: I finished my history readings this morning and there were so many mentions of kings. Lost: That show. The general consensus is that they ended the show crappily, but other than that I know nothing about it. Dating: There was once a dude who joined a dating show. Ended up being a serial killer. I forgot his name though. Balm: I was at a Korean store yesterday and saw an array of lip balms and glosses. I was never much of a makeup girl but the collection they had was just so cute, it made me think if I should start investing in makeup as well hah. Tomato: Ketchup is my second least favorite condiment after mustard. Game: Hmmm I downloaded a bunch of new game apps on my phone because I recently realized that I’m so boring??? and I only have social media on my phone??? I got ten new apps to make my phone more alive haha. Lotion: Is slimy, but smells nice and makes my skin smooth and look better. I got two hand creams for Christmas last year and it was then that I knew I was getting older because I was genuinely excited to try them both out. Expensive: Everything is. Powder: Reminds me of babies. The smell calms me down so well. Cross: I was shopping for clip-on earrings yesterday and there were several designs with crosses on them, which just reminded me of Christianity and it kinda peeved me for like 3 minutes lol. History: My favorite subject. I’ve never been so excited to be dumped on with such a thick stack of readings until this semester. Sex: Haven’t had it in a bit, too busy. Rainbow: We watched a film called Rainbow’s Sunset, which was really promising because it told a story about two men, both very old, and are lovers. In a traditional, conservative, poisonously Catholic country such as the PH, it’s a very bold move to produce a feature film that tackled such a horrible, taboo, horrifying thing (please note the sarcasm/mockery). We didn’t escape the guffaws and the loud ew’s whenever the two leads would kiss, which was sad. 

Anyway that’s not my point and what I really want to say is that the film was ultimately terrible, it was terribly-executed and it portrayed gay men in such a cheesy manner which in the long run, probably contributes to the continuing negative image of LGBT people in the Philippines. Gab, the bigger film buff between the two of us, felt so offended by how bad the movie turned out to be lol. Bay: Bayley, from WWE. She was a huge star like 3 years ago, but I think the bookers ultimately fucked her character up and now she’s stale. I feel so bad. Seth: Seth Rollins, also from WWE. Also very attractive. Pepper: I had okonomiyaki for lunch yesterday and there was like a thicker chunk of pepper that made it to my plate. Didn’t particularly enjoy that bite. Necrophile: Katie Vick. Google it to believe it. Wrestling is fucking dumb. Gravel: Funnily enough I do have a memory for gravel. Akeelah and the Bee was one of my favorite movies growing up; I watched it so many times that I had chunks of dialogue memorized at one point. One of the first scenes had Akeelah joining her school’s spelling bee, and one of the kids spelled grovel as g-r-a-v-e-l. He couldn’t understand why he got it wrong so the judge had to tell him that the word ‘grovel’ actually exists and what it means. Deep: I had a mental picture of the ocean when I read this word, so there’s that. Stephen: Hawking. Bucket: Chum Bucket. Hahaha Spongebob forever. England: Rugby? Grown: I always use the term ‘grown-ass’ haha. Spell: Spelling was one of my favorite activities in grade school and I would always score the highest in spelling exams. Kind of led me to my favorite job of proofreading/copyediting, really. Bark: My dog barked at nothing for five whole minutes a couple of days ago and it was hilarious. I shot two minutes of it. Long: Trees? Fan: Pamaypay, or hand fans in English.

Australia: First things that came to mind were the Sydney Opera House and Vegemite. Iron: Gabie’s nose bled last week. It wouldn’t stop flowing out of her nostrils and it smelled like rust for a good 15 minutes while she was trying to wash all the blood off, so it didn’t exactly help my case as someone who’s squeamish to death at the sight of blood. Melt: Chocolate. Beanie: Too warm for this country’s climate. Wax: Candles. Vigils. Burning your finger. Staying up all night to pray. Catholic school. Disease: Zombies. Resident Evil. Cannibal: The band Cannibal Corpse. Tried to get into them because Punk listened to them but it was too heavy for me. Flight: Airplanes, flights, vacations, away from everyone, nothing to worry about, good food, fighting with my siblings for the window seats. Porn: People be having weird fetishes sometimes. The thumbnails I see on websites...some of y’all crazy. Pot: I thought about how college life is so crazy. People would sell brownies or cookies with weed in them IN SCHOOL, meanwhile I still don’t even know if weed and pot are the same or if they’re two different things ohmygod HAHAHAHA I’m so sheltered wow I’m hopeless?????? Style: Taylor Swift and that subtle shade to Harry. People were shookened five years ago. Floss: Pork floss is really good. Star: There was a local celebrity who recently tweeted a pic, supposedly of a tiny tiny star that was beside the moon at like 5 AM, and she was asking what it was. Someone replied that it was Venus and explained what she just saw for her. Super cool. Nate: I don’t know anyone named Nate. I DID, however, remember the Naked Brothers Band. The older brother is named Nat, so it’s close enough. Soft: Pillows are soft. Orange: Hayley Williams’ hair 11 years ago. Witch: Philippine superstitions and how crazy and obsessive Filipinos can get. My mom, one of the most rational, no-nonsense people I know, scolds me every time I mock witchcraft or what we call ‘kulam’ cos she believes something will happen to me if I do. I’m all for honoring our mythology and traditions but sheesh, not to the obsessive extent. Mound: Ants. Root: Gabie used to watch this show where she shipped two girls named Root and Shaw. Oil: Massages. Hot: Deserts. Disc: Childhood, blowing on it to make it work, double-sided discs for longer movies, if a disc had scratches expect it to die soon. Soil: Plants. Planting trees. Muddy. Ugly: That scene in Spongebo where Patrick tells the story of the ugly barnacle. “Once there was an ugly barnacle. He was so ugly that everyone died. The end,” which didn’t help Spongebob who at the time was feeling super ugly hahahahaha. Sugar: Maroon 5. Also, my grandma used one particular jar for sugar throughout my entire childhood. It’s plastic, it’s clear, and it came with a red-orange lid. I’d often eat sugar on its own so I saw that jar quite a bit and it gives me a sense of nostalgia. I’m not so sure if that’s still the jar being used in the old house. Bone: Ribs :( Been craving for some. Sigh: Air??? I don’t know. Throne: Game of Thrones. I had to watch a 26-minute documentary of a GoT production for my broadcast management class. It’s insanely hard. So much respect to everyone involved in its prod. Calendar: I’m secretary for my org, which means that I always have to update everyone about our calendar of events. Carpet: Fancy. Flesh: The Walking Dead. Cement: Dangerous. Vow: The movie with Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum. One of my guiltier pleasures. Sweet: Desserts. And now I’m hungry.

[vxnevermorevx]

Welcome to my mind

For the last three years, my mind has been... Well, shit. Not that it hadn't been on a steady decline for years prior.

Recently, someone named her Denise. My other me. "Because that's what she is..when something is the opposite of something it's de-. She's not nice, she's De-Nice..."

Denise.

The name give to the me that's not me but spends more time pretending to be me than I do.

*Character Bio*

When I'm not Denise, I'm Ginny and she was the most wonderful person. I miss her dearly.

I had a great childhood. Very few psychological events, in my opinion. We never had much money, but my mom made sure I never knew it. My father worked hard at both his job and destroying his marriage; which is probably one of the marks on my childhood. More to come on that, I'm sure.

I didn't have trouble in school, per se. Bullied only a handful of times in all my school years. My mom is a designer, so I wore things you couldn't find on stores throughout my whole school life. I was *always* ahead of the trend and some kids couldn't handle it. We're talking 1991-2003. So, jumpers, corsets, mesh dusters, pants with fur on the bottom, dressing like anime characters... I was the first of everyone around me to be dressing that way. And I loved it!

But I had my revenge, as my hecklers could be seen wearing the same things they made fun of me for, after it became trendy. I guess you didn't have to be dead to be caught wearing that after all...

I struggled in math and excelled in art and writing. I had mostly good teachers, I think only one hated me.

I met all my best friends there. Can't say I've made all that many more in the years since. But, in my defense I'm surrounded by people who are nothing like me. You see, I grew up in Florida. All my vital youthful years were spent there. And now I live near Portland, Oregon. God, why? I even lost one of my dearest friends to the city. She completely changed from a fun, artistic girl who liked to draw, read, and cook...to...one of them. She's now a guilt vegan ( let's you know how disgusting you are for eating meat ) and is obsessed with shows that need to be cancelled. I had known this girl since first grade, she said she would follow the first friend who loved out of state. That was me, so she came out here too. Our friendship immediately began deteriorating as she would not allow me in my own room during the day, because she was talking to some loser friend of hers online. This person left her in a Walgreen's 20 miles from her home, on the wrong side of town, when we were all barely old enough to drive, because she was taking too long looking at eyeliner. But, she sounds like a solid individual to begin emulating. Are you serious? I watched my fully replacement take effect. 20 years of friendship completely gone in a matter of months. Have you ever watched someone stop carrying about you? Think about it. No, don't think about it. It's awful. She even physically ended our friendship. The first I had ever experienced. It was wrenching. But, I'm too far ahead now. I need to tell you how I got to Oregon.

Somewhere around me being 16, my dad stopped coming home. His mother had recently died and he knew some pretty shitty people willing to help him take the pain away. How does a poor, dyslexic, hoodlum, with a history of abuse cure the blues? Crack, of course. My mom did all she knew how to do, but she was pretty done with it all. They got divorced and some rich old lady "saved" him and whisked him off to Maryland where he would suffer many years of depression for what he had done to his family.

Now, it was just my mother and me. I immediately got a job and gave her my entire paycheck to help keep us in our lovely house. But as fate would have it, the city claimed eminent domain on our house with plans to build a water treatment facility. So, they lowballed us on what our house was worth and gave us 6 months to move. Now, here's some important side information: my mom is an army brat who grew up with mountains her whole life, until moving to Florida for my dad, which was apparently one of the last places she ever wanted to be. And my chummy from another tummy, was born in Oregon and had recently left me to go to OSU. This girl is my sister by all counts but blood. So, with a few other helping factors the logical answer was to start anew. How completely different my life would have been if I stayed. Can't say it would be better, just 100% different from what it is now.

But, in 2005 we moved to Oregon on the promise that we would do all the things we wanted to do and be living in Seattle in a few years.

None of that worked out. I can still remember the first night we spent in our apartment. I hated it. I let everyone know too. I think I cried for a week. I just wanted to go home. My Sisi was too far away to see her more often than the weekends and slowly her grades began to falter. This led to her dropping out and moving back to Florida just five months after I moved out here for her. I fell apart. I had only my mom and I love her, but sometimes you need your friends... You know? We did what we could and took jobs we hated and tried to get used to our new surroundings. I'm apparently a spoiled brat so I'm sure I made things painful for my mom who was finally back in her element and here I was stomping around telling everyone how much I hated it. Hate it. Present tense. I know the whole world is a cess pool of hipster, millennial idiots who all think that they know how to run the world, but the concentration of their free-for-all holier-than-thou ways is as dense here as the trees. It's exhausting listening to people who haven't showered in a week tell you how special they are because they have this heightened awareness that they learned from some Joe Blow and happens to not be fact at all. I have had a 24 year old Hispanic girl tell me that only white people can be racist, everyone else is prejudice. I told her that that in itself was a racist statement. And she said "no it's not. My teacher told me, and she has a PhD." I don't think I need to explain the definition of racism, but I do think Manson could have thrived in this town.

Fast forward quite a few years and we are both still in Oregon working jobs we hate not getting any of the things done we said we would. Are we lazy? Are we depressed? I'm sure it's both.

But, a small miracle comes my way, as I'm getting dressed to go down to the office to sign the next years lease I get a call from a woman who used to work with me. She asks if we are still looking for a new place to live and I tell her yes! We end up renting her townhouse from her because she's getting married. She proves to be a terrible landlord, probably because she's not all that good at being a person. She's really great at other things, but not that. Somme people are like that. But, I also haven't learned how to speak Oregonian in the 14 years I have been here.

A few more years and we end up buying the house and I have changed jobs for my health and things are looking up. I lose some of the weight I had acquired in my sorrows. I even find a guy that I can tolerate. Mostly bc he's 4000 miles away in another country. But, I struggle to find my way in our incredibly mismatched relationship. And he's so smart. So, successful... Here it comes... "what's he doing with a loser like me?"

My friends.... They all have something to show for their lives: degrees, children (Im not interested in these things,) husbands, jobs they don't hate....

I have a mortgage and a ridiculously high HOA, two payed off cars, 50 extra pounds on my ass, a job I'm not particularly built for, and a guy whom I love differently than he loves me.

I'm killing it.... Or myself. One way or the other. "I still haven't figured that shit out yet " -Eddie Murphy

I think this a pretty good place to stop for now. You should have a good amount of reference points for the following posts which will entirely be me, describing my chronic severe depression hoping that someone somewhere might read it and know they are not alone. I feel such a sense of validation when I read something from someone who feels the same as I do. This blog isn't for attention or critiquing, as most will likely be written when things like grammar and story structure aren't focused on. It's purely to get the chaos out so, I can organize it.

I don't know who you are but if you're reading this far, please stay tuned if you want to say "Wow, that's exactly how I feel."

Do good.

[meggannn]

LOL YOUR ROOMMATE?? I can't stop laughing omg

god did i ever share the full story of what happened with my housemate last year? i think i bitched about her a little bit but here’s the full write-up of my six months with that housemate. unedited and probably full of errors and discrepancies sorry cause im going off entirely from memory

i’ve now moved out of this apartment, but i was there for a year with three other girls. two of them i got along with fine, and we introduced ourselves to each other before we moved in because that’s common courtesy to see if we get along right? but basically before any of us could talk or interview candidates for the last spot in the apartment, this girl, i’m making up a name and calling her emily, this random girl named emily basically came in and signed on for the spot on the lease without talking to any of us. uh, okay? so we eventually all get in a group chat and talk and introduce ourselves and plan to move in. day one:  emily moved in before me and i moved in a few hours later. i walk in and see the kitchen and she’s already covered the fridge with magnets and pictures and paper clippings featuring…. herself. like, a few of them had her friends, but most of the pictures were of her. basically. am i crazy or is that fucking weird? so from the get-go she just seemed……. if not privileged (which i also knew she was later), then definitely some sort of weird type of entitled but i couldn’t tell if it was maybe just cultural differences? (she was russian but had grown up in the states. idk)

anyway. she had this boyfriend who would come over occasionally, it was no problem since we didn’t talk and just waved hi to each other occasionally. but from the first week she and another housemate who lived on the far end of the apartment were both having trouble sleeping because someone else on the floor was blaring their tv loudly all hours of the night in the room next door. after several weeks of not being able to sleep through the night, they’d pretty much had enough and managed to track down whose apartment it was, and it turned out to be this elderly black woman’s apartment. i don’t really know if the woman understood why they were so upset because i think she might have been going slightly senile as well, so i think maybe the tv, or the volume, was something she wasn’t entirely aware she was doing? but the other housemate, i’ll call her veronica (who is more chill but was still upset) understood that this was probably not a fight they wanted to pick. veronica noticed that the elderly woman had a middle-aged male visitor, who looked like family, come visit the woman a few times a week and take care of her/take out the trash etc, so veronica decided to wait until she saw the visitor again to talk to him about lowering the volume or turning the tv off, or maybe getting his relative headphones or something. but emily, like….. kept pushing it every single night. every single night for the first month or so she’d stomp across the floor and rap on the door loud enough to wake up the entire floor (the walls were thin and it wasn’t a big building). and most of the time the woman didn’t respond, but there was one notable time someone else got fed up enough to wake up at 2am and yell at emily (deservedly so) for waking up the whole hall. all of which i heard very clearly because my room was next to the main door to out apt.

things escalated when i overheard emily talking to her friend on the phone about the situation and then she mentioned that in retaliation, she went over in the middle of the night and put vaseline on the woman’s door handle. i was kind of stunned and disgusted that a grown ass adult (she’s at least a few years older than me, i’d guess late 20′s/early 30′s?) would do something like that???? but anyway a few nights later iirc, once again in the middle of the night, i was woken up by a shouting match down the hall because apparently the male relative had come back to check in on who he said was his mother, and HE WAS PISSED, UNDERSTANDABLY SO, AT FINDING MY ROOMMATE IN THE MIDDLE OF PUTTING VASELINE ON THE FLOOR CREVICE UNDER THE DOOR. LIKE. THAT’S NOT JUST PETTY BUT REAL FUCKING DANGEROUS TO DO TO AN ELDERLY WOMAN. he basically shouted at her and she kept talking about how she can’t sleep for months because of the noise, and whatever, but she stomped back to our apartment and they had this argument loudly at the door (remember, my room was right next to the front door). i listened to it for a couple minutes wondering if she would like, acknowledge what she did was wrong? and it became clear that she was so focused on the noise she wasn’t listening to this dude, so i came out and i tried to be a voice of reason. the guy was understandably really pissed that she would do something like that and i apologized for her and said she was wrong to do that (she had stomped off back to her room meanwhile) and he seemed grateful to talk to someone who wasn’t batshit crazy in the meantime so he mentioned that he had grown up in this building all his life before moving out so it hurt to see someone treat his mother this way who had lived here for 50 years or something. and after that i was just thinking like, jesus, this is so not the kind of fight you want to have with a family like this as a white woman in a gentrified apartment complex. like at some point you need to realize this is not your fucking place and if you must settle things, do it civilly or just dip out entirely.

i think emily eventually apologized and he accepted and they found out that the tv wasn’t even coming from the woman’s room at all, but from someone on the floor above who THEY also had had problems with for months.

veronica was away on a trip i think during this climax, but before, while it was still escalating, i was talking with veronica and veronica mentioned she and emily had bitched about the noise to each other often, but veronica said she drew the line when emily basically started making her complaints race-themed ever since she found out the elderly woman was black. etc the complaints turned from “it’s too loud” to “this neighborhood is so ghetto” and “that’s what black ppl are like” and stuff like that. veronica wasn’t cool with that, so she planned on handling any other complaints herself directly so she could resolve things like a normal person, but ever since veronica mentioned that i knew emily was a pos

emily also complained about people partying/drinking on the street outside till ~11pm, which imo isn’t too unreasonable, like normal people do, and basically being too loud or whatever. on some level i get it cause she had to go to sleep early to go to work early, but also at some point i was just wondering how she functioned as a human being in the real world

ANYWAY THE STORY I TELL AT PARTIES IS THIS ONE, THE ONE IN WHICH SHE LEAVES (i will try to keep this as short as possible while still giving you all the details you need to understand just how fucking weird it was):

in early november, emily group messaged everyone asking if her boyfriend could come live with us. to her credit she said she wouldn’t do it unless everyone was ok, and she waited to hear back from all of us. i was out of town at the time but i remember being really put off by this idea and i was going to say no, when i noticed that my two other housemates had ALREADY said yes in the chat. just like that. i was stunned. what? like, no follow-up questions or “we dont even really know him” or “how is this gonna work”? were they fucking insane?

i messaged her privately saying i really wasn’t comfortable with it, for xyz reasons. among those being 1) rent, because nowhere did she offer to split the rent five ways instead of four (they were basically going to split her room between them, which, no). 2) fridge/living space, which was small enough with four people to one apartment as it is, and 3) just overall “i dont fucking know him” atmosphere. she messaged back saying she understood, and i got to asking why this was so important to her to do now, because she mentioned she wanted to do it “asap” if we’d said yes.

and this is where my “no” turned into “hell fucking no.” she told me this:

in response to my question of if she’d want to put him on the lease, she said no, she wouldn’t want her boyfriend on the lease in case “something happens so she could just tell him to leave” (raising my question: what, exactly, do you expect to happen? maybe the landlord, who lives in the building, finding out someone’s living here illegally? bc THAT WOULD DO IT FOR ME)

she was marrying him in december which is why she wanted it to happen “soon” so they wouldnt be living apart. i asked why she couldnt just wait until the lease was up to do all this, to which she said:

her boyfriend’s green card (he was russian) had expired so he was now paying month to month and that’s when i realized, oh. bitch he’s using you for a green card marriage and you’re trying to inconvenience all of us instead of owning your life like an adult, or something

at some point during the conversation she like tried to bribe me with a couple hundred extra dollars per month “to cover the cost of the extra utlities/wifi/inconvenience,” which i politely declined. this was when i said basically “look i never got the sense you particularly liked living here (massive understatement) and i think that it’d work out best if you moved out, which you’re clearly already planning to do”

and she did start looking immediately. at some point while she was looking i overheard her talking to veronica mentioning that he was a huge fan of putin and she’d asked him to like, politely, stop?, lmao because she didn’t like his entire yknow politics, and he basically said “i’m sorry, i can’t betray my personal/national identity, i just really believe in putin” or whatever the fuck and i thought to myself, this bitch is marrying him anyway for some godforsaken reason

i don’t know why i hoped that she would be any more considerate moving out than when she moved in, but somehow i was still surprised when the sublet she picked out was someone she never introduced us to or mentioned before, she literally just said “hey here’s your new housemate and when she’s moving in” and dropped us a phone number and facebook page.

one last thing: while emily was moving out, veronica mentioned to me that she was really pleased i stood up to her because she felt massively uncomfortable with the situation too. i asked why she didn’t say something, and she said she talked to emily privately airing out her problems, and emily had managed to talk her into accepting that sort-of bribe privately off message, and emily told her ‘just say yes’ in the chat, so she did and was kind of kicking herself for it after. (our other housemate was off doing fuck knows what at this point; she was gone for weeks on end leaving us to take care of her guinea pigs for her with little to no warning.)

but then, veronica says, the big thing that astounds her is that this wasn’t even the same boyfriend who she’d had when she’d moved in. six months had passed by this point. SHE HAD BEEN DATING GREEN CARD GUY FOR LIKE, THREE MONTHS WHEN SHE DROPPED THIS ON US

and then she moved to fucking harlem, one of the yknow most diverse neighborhoods in the city known particularly for its black heritage, so i guess have fun honey

(her replacement somehow turned out to be just as bad as she was, so you can imagine why i was eager for my lease to end in may)

[aslanjadecarlyle]

book review: call me by your name

note: I posted this review on Goodreads in September of 2019. I’ve considered posting it here too, and finally caved.

enjoy.

My Review: (Edited To Add: When I first read this book, I, at the very least, thought that the author, Andre Aciman, was part of the LGBT+ community, but... NOPE! Asshole is a fucking STRAIGHT MAN. MOTHERFUCK.) And the most disappointing read of the year goes to...

Lads, I hated this book. Absolutely fucking hated it. Hated it, hated it, hated it. Words cannot describe how much I fucking regret reading this book — it just might be one of the worst books I have /ever/ read. I literally cannot deal. There were a few different reasons why I hated this book, all of which I will go into, but there was one reason why I hated it most of all, and I’ll put that reason here: Elio. I. COULD. NOT. STAND. HIM. OH MY GOD. This asshole. Full disclosure, before I go on, I am asexual as fuck. I do not feel sexual attraction, never have, probably never will. I am also sex-repulsed — However, I AM sex-positive. Normally, I do not give a single fuck what people do in their sex lives as long as everything is legal and consensual, and as long as it doesn’t involve me. However, this little asshole was a motherfucking CREEP. I get it. He’s 17. Most 17 year olds who actually do feel sexual attraction are horny as fuck, all day, every day. They probably, like, look up porn and shit — before PornHub, there was Playboy. Can’t relate, but okay. It’s whatever. BUT THAT DOES NOT EXCUSE ANY OF WHAT THIS KID DID. (Pretty big spoilers from here on out, heyo). Right, so he pretty much starts lusting after Oliver 0.2 seconds after meeting the dude. It is literally your textbook definition of instalust, and if you looked it up in the dictionary you would see Elio’s face (do we ever even learn his last name???) in the dictionary. He starts fantasizing about Oliver’s cock right off the bat. Fine. Creepy, but whatever. I thought his little comment comparing Oliver’s ass and balls to an apricot was pretty cringey (he literally went as far as to call it Oliver’s “apricock”), but I would EASILY take a million apricocks over the bullfuckery (no pun intended) that happens next. But first, before we even get into the cringey sex shit, I would like to point out that there is a point somewhere in the beginning part of this book where Elio literally wishes that, “Oliver was a cripple in a wheelchair so he couldn’t run away.” If that’s not the direct quote, it’s pretty damn close. UMMM. Nice dose of casual ableism there, but okay. Moving on. Okay, so basically the context of the relationship is that Elio is a kid from Italy, and during the summer his parents run a vacation home. They rent out some rooms in the house, including Elio’s bedroom (he temporarily moves into a smaller spare bedroom whenever this happens). Oliver is an American and he’s vacationing in Italy for like 6 weeks, so they rent out Elio’s room and he moves into the spare during this time. Fantastic. So, pretty quickly after Oliver moves in for the summer, Elio catches him wearing swim trunks. Totally normal, it’s summer, it’s hot, and Oliver is staying at a resort near the beach. He is totally justified in wearing swim trunks during this time. Except Elio takes things to a whole new damn level, and after seeing Oliver in these evidently very sexy swim trunks, he sneaks into Oliver’s room. His justification of this very brilliant decision is basically, “Well, it’s actually MY room and he’s just borrowing it so I am TOTALLY JUSTIFIED in going through his belongings.” Right. Anyway, so this kid starts snooping through Oliver’s room (I will be calling it Oliver’s room during this review since he’s renting it). He starts snooping through their guest’s clothes and shit, starts going through his closet... and, lo and behold, what is the very first thing Elio finds in said closet? The very smexy swim trunks. (They’re red, in case you wanted to know). And so. What does Elio do upon finding these sexy red swim trunks? This absolute treasure among treasures? First, he takes the swim trunks out of the closet. And then... He :) holds the swim trunks up to his face :) and INHALES the scent of the inside of the crotch area :) where Oliver’s dick goes. :) BONUS POINTS: He also narrates that he wishes! he could find! “some sort of bodily fluid or a pubic hair!” 😍 I mean, what a guy, hey? *TV Announcer Voice* BUT! THAT’S! NOT! ALL! So while Elio is in Oliver’s room, he, naturally, has to strip naked and try on Oliver’s swim trunks. Because that is very clearly the next step in creepiness after inhaling some random dude’s cock-smelling swim trunks like it’s a goddamn Yankee candle. But that’s not even the weirdest thing that happens. I can’t remember if this happened before, during, or after Elio tried on the trunks (this entire scene was a goddamn nightmare — one of many), but at some point before leaving Oliver’s room, Elio gets on the bed, finds a pillow that Oliver brought with him, and :) dry humps :) the goddamn thing. :) Literally puts it between his legs and rides it out like a goddamn pony. Why I didn’t stop reading at that point, I will never know, but sometime after all this happens, a sort-of relationship forms between Elio and Oliver (more like a summer fling). I have no idea what Italy’s age of consent laws are, so that’s really not my place to say — I don’t want to seem like I’m defending the situation, and I know that most of my rant has been about Elio, but I just... the whole situation is really hard to judge, in my opinion. Oliver’s in his early 20s so the age gap isn’t HUGE huge, but he is American while Elio is Italian, different countries with different laws, so like... that further muddies the age of consent shit. But, even if the ages WEREN’T a problem, the relationship itself is a goddamn train wreck. Overthinking it all highkey stresses me out. Instead, Imma just tell y’all about an ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING thing that happened afterwards because WHAT THE FUCK. WHY WAS THIS IN A FUCKING BOOK. OH MY GOD. (I feel like I’m radiating strong Gus from How To Be A Normal Person vibes right now and, honestly, I need my inner Gus to get me through this shit because WHAT THE FUCK). So, they hook up and have sex for the first time. Whatever. I don’t even know what the fuck happened because, honestly, the writing style was not the best (I’ll rant about that later, if I make it through this shit) and they did this thing where they called each other by each other’s names during sex (which is, I guess, where the title comes from — hardy har har). The idea is fine in retrospect, but between the name-swapping and the shitty writing style, the scene overall was very confusing to read. All I got out of it was that Elio bottomed and Oliver topped. (<—— Almost accidentally typed Gus there and, um, Gustavo Tiberius deserves better than that. I am so sorry, Gus). After they have sex, Elio starts to question whether that was a good idea, whether he was actually into Oliver like that, etc., etc.. And at some point during all of this — I don’t even know how or why this became a thing — he ends up fucking a peach. You read that right. He :) fucks :) a :) peach. :) Like, I’m talking, splits it open and just! shoves his cock right on through! He even cums in the damn thing! ... And, like, I have never seen the movie, but I looked it up, AND THAT SCENE IS IN THE GODDAMN MOVIE. LITERALLY COMES UP AS “THE PEACH SCENE.” WHY. WHY. WHY. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY. What kind of American Pie, 50 Shades bullshit did I just read AND WHY DID ABSOLUTELY NO ONE WARN ME ABOUT IT. Oh, and, uh, Oliver eats the peach. Just. Gobbles that thing up like it’s his favorite piece of goddamn candy. At that point, my soul just kinda detached itself from my body and plummeted straight into hell. I have become numb to any sort of emotion, and I am never touching a goddamn peach ever again, oh my god. So um. Yeah. Outside of the creepy sex shit and questionable age shit, the book was actually boring as fuck. I thought I would actually like the Italian setting, but nope! Outside of being traumatized, I have absolutely no recollection of what happens after Oliver and Elio go to Rome together. All I remember is that I’m pretty sure the ending was bullshit. And the writing style was Not Great either. The author tried SO HARD to be stupidly poetic and it absolutely did not work in the goddamn slightest (especially during the sex scenes, with fruit and otherwise). The paragraphs were super long and rambling, and the author went through patches of writing where he just. Straight up did not break the paragraphs at all when a conversation happened. I read whole paragraphs where I had no idea who was talking because it went back and forth so much. I have no idea if that was done as a stylistic choice, but it was bullshit and I’m judging everyone who liked it. Why??? Did this??? Goddamn book??? Become a movie??? I have never wanted to roundhouse kick a book into the goddamn ocean so badly. I regret ever buying it. I regret not stopping after the goddamn swim trunks shit. I want my money back. In conclusion, to sum up this goddam monstrosity of a book: WHY. (If you want better LGBT+ books, please consider reading How To Be A Normal Person by T.J. Klune, A Light Amongst Shadows by Kelley York & Rowan Altwood, or A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice & Virtue by Mackenzi Lee, just to name a few. They are all SO much better than this goddamn... experience... and do not include questionable age laws. And also, the first two titles are written by indie authors who are part of the LGBT+ community!).

[xtruss]

As Harry and Meghan Arrive, Canadians Wonder if They Should Dump the Queen

The celebrity couple abandons their royal duties and moves to Vancouver Island. For Canadians, that rekindles an old debate: Why is a British monarch still their head of state?

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s move to Canada has reopened a debate about the role of the British monarchy in Canadian affairs, Stéphanie Fillion writes.

By Stéphanie Fillion | March 05, 2020 | Foreign Policy

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are making Canada their home—but support for the monarchy is looking shaky.

When Justin Trudeau first met Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom after he took office as prime minister of Canada, she greeted him by saying, “Nice to see you again … but under different circumstances.” That’s because Trudeau had already met the British monarch as a one-year-old infant, when his father, Pierre Trudeau, also served as prime minister of Canada. For both men, the queen was no mere visiting dignitary, but their official head of state—to whom they had been required, by Canadian law, to swear an oath of loyalty.

“I, Justin P.J. Trudeau, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada, Her Heirs and Successors. So help me God,” the prime minister dutifully recited in November 2015 when he first took office, and again when he was reelected last year.

Canada, although it has been fully independent in all other ways since 1982, remains a constitutional monarchy with a British royal as the official head of state. When Elizabeth is not in her Canadian realm, her place in Canada’s political pecking order is taken by Julie Payette, the British governor general in Ottawa. Though the queen’s powers are mostly symbolic, her face is on Canada’s coins, Canadian citizens are officially subjects of the queen, and the loyalty oath to Elizabeth has to be sworn not just by prime ministers, but by every immigrant wanting to become a Canadian citizen.

The majority of Canadians don’t mind this state of affairs, a vestige of their pre-1982 history as a dominion of the British Empire. The royals are still popular, and Trudeau has kept a good relationship with them—not least because they offer great photo-ops.

So when Prince Harry and Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex, abdicated their royal roles and announced they’d live in Canada, they weren’t moving to an entirely foreign country, but one over which Prince Harry’s grandmother—technically, at least—still rules. Ironically, however, Prince Harry’s abandonment of his royal duties has rekindled an old debate over whether Canada, too, should liberate itself from genuflection before the British throne and finally become a republic.

The first wrinkle in Canadian-British royal relations was over who should pay for the duke and duchess of Sussex’s security detail. In the past, their frequent visits (Meghan lived in Toronto prior to their marriage) came at a substantial cost to the queen’s Canadian subjects. Now that the Sussexes are staying longer—they have rented a sprawling mansion on Vancouver Island—that bill looked set to rise to more than CA$10 million a year, about $7.5 million, which Canadians just didn’t want to pay. In January, the Canadian Taxpayers Federation launched a petition opposing public subsidies for the couple, quickly gathering 80,000 names. On Feb. 27, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, which had provided the couple’s security in the past, announced it would stop footing the bill in the coming weeks.

Quebec, the French-speaking province with a long history of separatism, has been a particular hotbed of republicanism. In October 2018, lawmakers for Québec Solidaire, a separatist, left-leaning party in the provincial legislature, refused to give the required oath to the queen in public, arguing that elected representatives genuflecting before a monarch was an undemocratic relic. Since they couldn’t legally take office as legislators if they refused the oath, the lawmakers decided to do it behind closed doors. “Ideally, we wouldn’t have had to swear an oath to the queen,” said Sol Zanetti, a member of the party in the National Assembly of Quebec. “But if we don’t, we cannot exercise our democratic mandate.”Lawmakers refused to give the oath in public, arguing that elected representatives genuflecting before a monarch was an undemocratic relic.

Québec Solidaire has now put forth a bill that would abolish the oath to the queen in the provincial legislature. Three permanent residents in the process of becoming citizens have also challenged the constitutionality of the oath as a requirement for naturalization. But Canada’s Supreme Court upheld the practice. “The oath is secular and is not an oath to the Queen in her personal capacity but to our form of government of which the Queen is a symbol,” the court decision read.

With its French heritage and unique brand of politics, Quebec does not completely reflect how the rest of the country feels. The queen is still relatively popular, and the majority of Canadians oppose abolishing the monarchy. But even at the national level, the anti-monarchists are pressing forward. Jagmeet Singh, the leader of the left-of-center New Democratic Party, which is currently the fourth-largest faction in the federal Parliament, has also called for abolishing the monarchy. “I’m a republican,” Singh said in a television interview in 2018. “It sounds a bit awkward saying that given the other connotation in the [United] States, but I believe that we should be a [republic]. I don’t see the relevance of [the monarchy], and I don’t think that most Canadians do.”

Singh’s push for a republic came after an even bigger controversy over the monarchy’s cost to Canadian taxpayers—in this case, the British governor general’s lavish expenses and pension. Figures from the past few years show taxpayers pay around 62 million Canadian dollars a year, close to $50 million, on the monarchy, mainly for the office of the governor general and the queen’s official representative in each province. Defenders of the monarchy point out that the total bill per capita is only around CA$1.68—the equivalent of about one cup of Canada’s beloved Tim Horton’s coffee a year.

Tom Freda, the national director of Citizens for a Canadian Republic, has campaigned against the monarchy for years, and he hopes the other provinces will soon reach Quebec’s level of discontent. The group wants Canada to replace the queen—and her representative, the governor general—with a president as the ceremonial head of state, similar to other parliamentary systems such as Germany’s. Canada would follow in the footsteps of other former British colonies that have abolished the monarchy and become parliamentary republics, including Mauritius in 1992 and Fiji in 1987. Australians voted in a 1999 referendum to retain the queen as their monarch.

But even if the debate over the monarchy has lately reignited, there seems to be little urgency to fix what most Canadians don’t feel is broken. “I feel like there’s a general consensus among politicians that abolishing [the monarchy] is an inevitability,” Freda said. “However, nobody is making it a priority.”Even if the debate over the monarchy has reignited, there seems to be little urgency to fix what most Canadians don’t feel is broken.

What’s more, even if Canadians agreed that the monarchy should be dropped, it would require a lengthy process of rewriting Canada’s constitution. The political will to tackle these onerous requirements seems to be missing, said Paul Heinbecker, a former diplomat and speechwriter in the premier’s office under Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. “Even in Quebec, people do not care enough to invest the political effort to disrupt the status quo,” Heinbecker said. “To drop the monarchy would require the unanimous consent of the House and Senate in Ottawa, and all 10 provincial assemblies. If dropping the monarchy could be done readily, it would likely have been done by now.”

Many politicians also fear that any broad debate over constitutional changes could take Canada down a slippery slope, forcing the government to also discuss power-sharing with Quebec and the indigenous First Nations, two everlasting political struggles in Canada.

For some, it’s now or never. As the 93-year-old queen will pass the throne to her son Prince Charles—or her grandson Prince William—in the foreseeable future, the transition offers an opportunity to make the break, Heinbecker argued. Canadians should therefore make haste and “dispense with the monarchy before we are locked in again for the reign of Charles,” Heinbecker said. Public opinion seems to bear him out: While the queen enjoys an 81 percent approval rating, 53 percent of Canadians say formal ties with the British monarchy should end with her reign, according to an Ipsos poll conducted in January.

In the end, Prince Harry and Meghan’s move to Canada might even have the effect of reconnecting Canadians with the monarchy. Because the Sussexes are perceived as a “relaxed, multicultural young couple,” said Rafe Heydel-Mankoo, a Canadian commentator on royal affairs, they are “able to connect with segments of society not traditionally known for their monarchist sympathies.”

Trudeau has also made it clear that he won’t press the issue. “There might come a time where a prime minister decides it’s a really important thing to crack open the constitution and rewrite it,” he said in 2018, “I don’t think I’m going to be that prime minister.” So if he is reelected the next time Canadians go to the polls, Trudeau will likely swear his oath to a foreign monarch yet again.

Stéphanie Fillion is a New York-based reporter specializing in politics and foreign affairs.