#i hope this shows that i am so willing to spend money to legally watch this series

[marshmallowgoop]

[Image description: A photograph of Part 8, Volume 7 of the Japanese Detective Conan DVDs. The cover features a smiling Conan Edogawa wearing Kid the Phantom Thief’s iconic white suit, cape, top hat, and monocle, with a red bow tie in place of the long red tie, against a pink background. At the bottom, text reads, “Shonen Sunday TV Animation Series” in all capital letters. Four small screenshots from the included episode, 219, are depicted beneath the words. End image description.]

It’s not something I would think most people are interested in doing, but, okay, I got a copy of Part 8, Volume 7 of the Japanese Detective Conan DVDs in the mail last week—and more Conan DVDs, too, like about a dozen other volumes I was missing—and if I have any advice for somebody looking to legally fill in the gap between FUNimation’s English-language DVDs (up to Episode 123) and Crunchyroll’s simulcast of the show in Canada and the United States (starting from Episode 754), it would be this: just buy complete season sets and do not purchase separately.

That is, so long as you’re not aiming to be a collector and simply want to have access to the episodes without spending hundreds of thousands of yen. As of this writing, you could probably use Tenso or another Japanese proxy service to buy a shiny new copy of every last volume straight from the shop linked on YTV’s page for the anime, but this is not cheap. Selling for 4,620 yen each, you’d to have shell out at least 776,160 yen to get a hold of the 168 DVDs containing Episodes 124-753—and that’s without factoring in shipping, service fees, and other costs!

If that’s as unfeasible for you as it is for me, you may, as I did, consider buying only used rental volumes containing the most crucial episodes, as outlined in XerBlade’s well-known list, because even if you’re not spending 4,620 yen a pop, 168 DVDs is still a lot of DVDs. Rental copies often sell for 100 to 400 yen apiece, and while they are missing the postcard version of the cover art, have plainer discs, and lack the keyhole jacket design seen on the regular volumes, they’ve got the episodes, and that’s what you’re really after, anyway. So, sure, rental drops may be worn and affixed with obsolete stickers, but they’re inexpensive, the actual disc content appears to be identical to non-rental copies, and it seems economical to pick ‘em up one by one. You only want a select number, after all.

[Image descriptions: Two photographs comparing Part 10, Volume 4 and Part 14, Volume 1 of the Japanese Detective Conan DVDs. The top photo compares the cover art; while Part 10, Volume 4, my only non-rental Conan volume, includes a two-color background with a blue keyhole design surrounded by white, Part 14, Volume 1, a rental copy, has a single-color background, a solid green-blue color, with no keyhole design. The bottom photo compares the disc designs between the two; while Part 10, Volume 4′s disc includes a two-toned sketch of a zoomed-in portion of the cover art, Part 14, Volume 1′s disc, as well as other Part 14 discs that I’ve included in the same DVD case, are all solid colors with no sketch of the cover art. Further, Part 10, Volume 4 also includes a postcard version of the cover art, which is tucked into the left side of the DVD case. End image descriptions.]

But then you might realize that you’re missing a lot of good episodes by buying only super plot-relevant cases, and so you decide, well, actually, I want to get all the manga-canon stories. And you look at the contents of each volume, and you do the math, and you see that you’ll need 152 DVDs to accomplish that goal, and by then, you’re like, well, I’m so close, I might as well go all the way and get the full 168.

Except... if you’re anything like me, you’ve kinda already made some bad decisions in your collecting. And Part 8, Volume 7, containing Episode 219 and a Conan-cosplaying-Kid-the-Phantom-Thief cover, is a great example. Because, yes, most rental copies will sell for about 100 to 400 yen each. But then there are volumes that contain well-loved episodes—Part 5, Volume 8 (129), Part 14, Volume 10 (425), and, of course, Part 8, Volume 7 (219), for a few examples—and suddenly, you’re not finding those ridiculously low prices. You’re seeing 1,500, 1,700, 1,980 yen.

You know, almost the same prices—if not more!—than a whole season set.

[Image description: A screenshot comparing the lowest prices I could currently find on From Japan for Part 8, Volume 7 of the Japanese Detective Conan DVDs and a bundle containing all 7 volumes of Part 8. The lowest-price Part 8, Volume 7 has a “Buy It Now” price of 1,980 yen, the equivalent of around 18.74 USD. The lowest-price full-season set has a price of 1,800 yen, the equivalent of around 17.03 USD. End image description.]

Sometimes, those cherished episodes are rereleased in different collections, and those sell closer to the super low prices of other volumes. For example, I purchased DVD Selection 4, focused on Ai Haibara and containing Episodes 129 and 178, instead of Part 5, Volume 8, for a lower price. But then there are episodes like 219 that weren’t, to my knowledge, rereleased elsewhere. To complete the collection, you really only then have two choices: either spend way more on a single volume, or get a whole season set and wind up with duplicates.

Well, for Part 8, Volume 7, I spent way more. I got duplicates for Part 16, though.

Anyway, long story short: even if you do want to just get crucial-episode volumes only, I’d still probably suggest purchasing whole season sets if you’d like to save money. (And hey, then you’ll also have those other episodes if you’d like to give them a watch sometime!) Rental drops for entire parts sell for around 2,000 to 5,000 yen each, and while service fees will of course depend on the service, I believe that every one I’ve ever tried—Buyee, From Japan, and Tenso—would count the bundle as a single item that would be attached to only a single service fee. Further, you won’t have to pay multiple domestic shipping costs for each volume in the season, either! (And believe me, those can add up fast.)

But all that said, mistakes were made in my DetCo DVD saga, absolutely, but I’ve rearranged my shelves and filled in some gaps since I last posted on the subject, and I’m pleased with what I have! And maybe it’s an odd thing to say, but it’s been fun seeing the differing qualities of my purchases—how you can look at my shelf and see the tears in the copies with more life experience, and the wrinkles, and the old remnants of stickers that are no longer there, while right beside them, there are those that appear so pristine that I have to seriously wonder if they were ever truly rented out at all.

[Image descriptions: Photographs of my DVD/Blu-ray shelves. On display are 5-6, 6-7, 7-8, 8-1, 9-2, 9-3, 10-4, 10-5, 11-1, 11-2, 12-3, 12-4, 13-5, 14-1, 14-2, 15-3, 16-4, 16-5, 17-1, 17-2, 18-3, 19-4, 19-5, 20-6, 20-7, 21-8, and 22-9 of the Japanese Detective Conan DVDs, among other DVDs and Blu-rays, such as a few of the Conan films and specials, Ghost in the Shell, and Kiki’s Delivery Service. End image descriptions.]

I guess I’ve always been a terrible collector, and I don’t have the space to properly display everything, but I love how colorful these DVDs are, and I even find something charming in how they vary in appearance, too.

Still, I could have been a lot smarter with my money, and while I wouldn’t really expect a lot of folks to go to these lengths, if you do, and if you’re looking to save some cash, don’t make the same mistakes I did! Just buy whole season sets! You can even place the 168 DVDs perfectly into 28 6-DVD cases if you do!

[obeiii-mee]

Heyo, this is my first time asking (im kinda new to tumblr, so please dont judge) if you would'nt mind, could you do some headcannons (or oneshots, it dosen't matter) with all the demon bros and a MC who is crippled/paralized in their legs, and has to use a wheelchair to get around? Thank you!!

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This is the first time I’ve written about a crippled MC, so I hope I didn’t fuck this up or anything. I found out that being paralysed in both legs is a disability called Paraplegia so that’s how I titled this post. And y’all are too sweet, you are more than welcome anon! I hope I can portray this properly because I am not crippled myself so I’ve opted to do some research before writing this! I hope you like it! Also, I feel inclined to add that none of the brothers would treat you too differently if you happen to have a disability because you’re their human nonetheless :)

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The Brothers with an MC that has Paraplegia and needs a wheelchair to get around:

Lucifer:

-Lucifer was in charge of choosing the final human, exchange student for the program so it’s guaranteed he already knew about your predicament before you even arrived

-Him and Diavolo probably had many meetings concerning your disability before the program could commence, considering that being unable to walk would double the chances of you getting killed since you are obviously more vulnerable

-Not to mention all the treatment you would require

-Lucifer is not well versed in human illnesses and disorders, but he makes sure that he is educated enough on the matter before you get brought down there

-It would not be easy, but he is determined to help you survive your year in DevilDom for the prince’s sake

-First problem of the day was, of course, your wheelchair

-Due to lack of time, Lucifer was unable to instal ramps around the House of Lamentation which meant that for the first couple of weeks, someone would’ve had to help you move around certain parts of the house

-He gave that highly prestigious job to himself because he didn’t trust his brothers and thought they would accidentally drop you and your wheelchair down the stairs

-He talks a lot to you, even at the beginning, because he needs to establish your needs and what he should do to make sure you don’t die for the following year

-You would have to tell him about physical therapy and how most commonly it uses heat, massage and exercise to stimulate your nerves and muscles, making it a great treatment for people with leg paralysis

-Once you two enter a more intimate and personal relationship, it’s more than likely he’ll help you perform those things himself (instead of kidnapping a human doctor from somewhere)

-Lucifer knows you have no problem getting around with your wheelchair by yourself but there are times where he’ll insist to push you along in order to give you a quick break

-I can totally imagine you two strolling around DevilDom and having cosy chats about RAD and your adjustments to DevilDom

-He has a softer side to him that he’s afraid to show most of the time, but he feels so at ease when you’re around, it’s hard for him to hold that part of him hidden from you

-Of course, your safety still remains his primary concern and he acts more like your guardian than Mammon does, even if he was originally supposed to look out for you

-He will accompany you almost anywhere. And if he can’t, he’ll have one or more of his brothers do it. And even then he’s probably lurking nearby, just in case

-He would always be willing to listen about your condition, if you wished to tell him whether you were born with the defect or why you ended up crippled later in life. Either way, he’s all ears

-If you would rather not speak about it, he wouldn’t pry and respect your decision because he knows it’s not his place to pressure you

-Because of your paralysis, it’s quite obvious to demons that you are even weaker (physically speaking) than most humans and that usually puts a target on your back

-Howver, never fear, because Lucifer is pretty quick to put lower rank demons in their place with just a mere stare

-Oop one of them passed out from the fear, haha

-In conclusion, he’s the most responsible when it comes your comfort and safety during your stay

-He makes sure you are always left in good hands and and provides most of the requirements you need

-Y’all should see how his wings puff up when he senses a threat approaching you, he looks like a peacock ready to go on attack lol

Mammon:

-The second born is unsurprisingly a bit of a jerk at first

-He stays really grumpy the whole day of your arrival because he’s stuck babysitting you stupid human

-“Lucifer c’mon, what’s all this workload for? The human can’t even walk by themselves, why do I have to help them out?”

-Wtf Mammon you can’t say shit like that

-Anyways, the following very few days, the only thing he’s thinking about is how much money he could sell your wheelchair for

-He’s the literal incarnation of greed, what else did you expect from him?

-After a while, he starts feeling a bit guilty every time he thinks about it though

-Mammon is gonna take this secret to the grave (laughs in immortal) but he actually really likes pushing you around

-Maybe it’s because it’s a clear indication to everyone around him that you are HIS human, under HIS protection and therefore you trust HIM the most since he was your FIRST MAN

-He will insist on helping you get out of that thing when you need to go to bed and stuff every night and he will get pouty real fast if you let any of his other brothers do it

-You wake up to him trying to roll around in your wheelchair one night at like 3am

-At some point, he stole a wheelchair from the human realm to match with his human. You can guess the consequences of his actions

-I can imagine you having to face a staircase or something at school and Mammon being like:

-“Fuck it, imma carry this fragile human instead; wheelchair and all!”

-Like you were a sack of potatoes or something smh

-Cue his brothers watching him from a distance as he heaves you and basically weight-lifts you up the stairs

-Ok but every now and again, he gets so sad thinking about you not being able to walk, like he starts crying kinda sad

-While you stand there like 😐 “Why are you crying?”

-He’s so quick to help if he senses you’re in danger too

-It’s canon that Mammon is crazy fast if he wants to be so if he has even the slightest impression that your life is threatened, his feet are already moving

-He will charge at your immediate threat at around 120 miles per hour-do not try him when he’s mad

-“The Great Mammon saved the day! C’mon MC, let’s go buy some ice cream. My treat! Ya better be grateful!”

-He says while the demon that tried to eat you lies on the floor with about a dozen broken bones

-Mammon is the second most powerful demon out of all of his brothers, even if he doesn’t resort to violence often

Levi:

-He didn’t really know how to react when you first teleported to DevilDom

-I mean, from the very beginning he considered you to be a human normie but at the same time, he felt bad you were stuck with his brothers for the rest of the year

-I think he would understand you would have an even harder time integrating yourself in their house because of your disability and he knows his siblings are really fucking annoying, always pushing you around and whatnot

-So, he kinda lets you hide in his room quite often

-You guys chill out in there all the time, much to the dismay of the other brothers who also want to spend time with you

-At some point, Levi definitely begged asked Lucifer to let you start online classes with him

-“But wouldn’t it be easier for MC to do online school from home rather than go to R.A.D since there aren’t any ramps or anything around there???”

-“The answer is no Leviathan.”

-“Ugh fine! What a fucking boomer-“

-For some reason, he gets so flustered whenever you ask him to push you around

-He blushes right to the tips of his ears and then he starts sputtering some nonsense that you can’t make out at all

-But he’s more than happy to do it, especially if you guys are going to a convention or if he’s dragging you out to buy new merch

-You two would get along in the sense that Levi realises the struggles you faced all your life were tough to overcome and he believes you are just like him

-Usually left out by other people, ignored even

-He knows you always listen to him ramble on about whatever he is currently obsessed with and how much you check up on him to make sure he never isolated himself

-He wants to do that for you too! Talk to him about your hobbies, please I’m begging you-he feels so bad whenever he’s doing all the talking

-If you ask him to help you with anything (getting something, helping you into bed—that sort of thing), he legally and physically can’t say ‘no’

-And he would get envious enough to stop talking to you for a day or two if you let his brothers do it instead (the second and third born are indeed similar lmao)

-S T A Y I N H I S R O O M, W H E R E Y O U C A N B E P R O T E C T E D !

-He will feel so much more at ease if you’re in his room because to him, that’s his haven

-If you’re in there with him, that means you’re not getting involved in his siblings’ endless and dangerous shenanigans

-Whenever you’re at school, he can’t help but worry about your well-being

-Because you’re human! You’re gonna get killed!! Do you know how much your organs sell on the black market in DevilDom??? 100x more than in the human realm, that’s for sure

-Would they have a black market or would it be a regular market lol

-For some reason, he also likes staying in your wheelchair when you’re not using it

-I think he just takes comfort in knowing it’s something that belongs to you and smells like you and-

-OK Levi, sit back down

-He wouldn’t treat you any differently if you had a disability tbh, but he’d be more concerned because you can’t even run away or anything

-So he’s so fuckin’ relieved when you guys are just vibing in his room

-He could die happy knowing he kept his best friend/ partner safe

Satan:

-Satan would be even more prepared for your arrival than Lucifer would, in a sense

-Out of all of his brothers, he’s most likely to understand and recognise paraplegia (either from studying human illnesses/birth defects/disabilities or from encountering humans with said disability)

-He’s a smart boy, alright?

-Always seems to be the first to notice if you need help or if someone’s bothering you

-Though in the very beginning, he was pretty tempted to just let you get killed to see how angry Lucifer could get

-Seeing dear Luci’s misery brings him great joy 🥰🥰🥰

-Once you two manage to build a very honest and strong relationship, he feels more and more inclined to keep you out of harm’s way

-Pls, he would feel so honoured if you let him push you around (it’s like you asked him to h*ld h*nds or something)

-If you require treatment of any kind, he would be so happy to help

-But in a subtle way...?

-Satan makes it seem so smooth too like he doesn’t mind lending a helping hand when in reality he’s all giddy inside

-*Kinda wants to rub it in his brothers’ faces but at the same no, because he’s definitely the bigger person here

-He wants to know how your wheelchair works

-It’s got all of these neat mechanisms and he wants to learn how they’re constructed because he never had the chance to inspect one before

-He’s such a sweetheart about asking you as well and never pries about your disability unless you start elaborating yourself

-Most of the time, he acts all charming and very gentleman-like

-So people have a hard time spotting and acknowledging the building rage inside of him every time he sees you are threatened by some moronic low rank demon

-Satan’s usually chill when it comes to injuries, unless he can see you’re in horrible pain

-There’s nothing a few spells can’t accomplish

-But when others purposefully try harming you?

-It’s like he loses all the self control he’s been trying to perfect over the centuries and he can’t help himself from at least breaking someone’s rib cage

-Satan’s a weird one because he’s protective of you even though he’s more on the relaxed side when compared to his siblings

-He very much acknowledges that you made it this far in life with your predicament so he doesn’t feel the need to baby you or anything

-You’re strong and he knows this

-It’s one of the many things he clearly loves about you

-That one time you rolled over Mammon’s foot with your wheelchair on purpose, he was wheezing

Asmo:

-Even now, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be stuck inside a wheelchair for the rest of his eternal life

-I mean, he’d obviously still be absolutely fabulous, have you seen him? He’s gonna be gorgeous either way

-But after the two of you meet, he definitely starts thinking about how he takes his feet for granted all the time

-It would be so difficult to complete his daily tasks without the ability to walk or run around

-That’s why he gets sad every time he remembers that’s your reality and on days like that, you’ve noticed he gives you a helluva lot more attention than usual

-He knows you don’t need pity or anything so he’s just making sure his human has all the support they can get

-Paraplegia or not, shopping trips are still a go-go

-He loves buying you clothes! And he loves helping you try them on! Asmo takes it very seriously

-Might have a go at the employees if they’re being rude to you

-You don’t even ask him to, but he subconsciously starts pushing you around himself whenever the two of you are out together

-“MC! Look at that new shop that’s just opened! Isn’t it adorable? We have to check it out!”

-He can’t help it! There’s so many places he wants to visit, he sort of just drags you with him wherever he goes

-Even at home, he always pops out of nowhere to coax you into coming to his room

-Y’all have so many skin routines to do each day

-Like he’s in your room most nights to greet you goodnight and tuck you in, with the rest of his brothers it gets so awkward at times

-Asmo just wants to see you smile, ok? He thinks you have a beautiful smile and laugh and he wants to remind you that you’re marvellous, disability or not

-And if anyone does anything to put an end to your self confidence, he will swiftly put an end to their life

-Please, he’s a pro at ruining lives, he’s been doing it for centuries

-Asmo has such a huge influence over the people in DevilDom, he just needs to make this one post on Devilgram to end said demon’s whole career

-I mean, who is he compared to him, Hmm? So don’t worry MC, scum like that don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you :)

-That one time Mammon tried lifting you up the stairs and Asmo started shrieking, like put them down! Don’t manhandle them like that, poor human :(

Beel:

-I know I sound repetitive, but he would be an overall sweetheart to you no matter the circumstances

-If Mammon is not by your side, then Beel definitely is

-His big, scary aura and figure usually scares off any threat in a 10 mile radius

-Most demons don’t fancy being eaten by the Avatar of Gluttony, ya know?

-Idk why but I feel like he’d be the type to ask for oral consent every time he wanted to push you around

-He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable :(

-Surprisingly also the type to lift you and your wheelchair whenever an obstacle gets in your way

-You basically weigh the same amount as a paper plate compared to him, so he has no problem doing so

-He doesn’t really understand your condition as well as Satan may do, but he’s trying his best

-You mean so much to him and he feels it’s only fair he learns more about your disability as a thank you for what you’ve done for him

-He has a rough time keeping up with you when it comes to stuff like physical therapy because he’s very unfamiliar with it but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna help

-Of course, Beel believes that this is the second best way to show you how much he cares for you besides the obvious ‘I love you’

-Giving you a hand whenever you need his support the most

-That’s his way of saying “I’m not going to let you down. I want you to trust me, the same way I trust you.”

-And knowing him, he will try to do everything in his power to keep you safe and sound

-After a while, you’re bound to notice he’s the first one to pull you out of his brothers’ pranks before you have a chance to get hurt

-Beel is always the one handing you stuff from high places you can’t reach, without teasing you for it like Mammon might do

-Always the first one to remind you to get plenty of rest and to eat enough

-He wants to protect you and his brothers because he knows he failed to do so with Lilith so yeah, he’s a bit overprotective at times

-He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but he gets so anxious knowing you’re by yourself

-After a few months of getting accommodated with him, your disability is no longer brought up in the conversation

-Because he doesn’t care that you are crippled and forced to use a wheelchair

-You are part of his family and he loves you no matter what

Belphie:

-He didn’t really care, even when you first met and his hatred for humans was at its very peak

-It didn’t matter that you had a disability

-All that mattered to him at the time was killing you to satisfy that deeply rooted need of vengeance inside of him

-Though he was sort of surprised his brothers didn’t get to you first

-In general, he’s pretty chill about you being crippled in both legs

-It takes too much effort to worry about your well-being 24/7 after all

-Surprisingly, he does keep an eye out for you if his siblings aren’t nearby

-It’s his redemption arc people, he’s trying to be nicer

-But he has such an irritating way of showing his affection for you

-Do not let him push you around

-He’s either going to a) fall asleep after 30 seconds and slump over you in the middle of RAD’s halls

-Or b) be annoying and fling your wheelchair in every direction possible just to piss you off

-He likes messing with you because you give him the best reactions and he thrives on that

-You’ve almost fallen off your wheelchair multiple times because of this asshole

-Not that he’d actually let you fall, he just wants to see how easily he can get you to yell at him

-Speaking of said wheelchair, like Mammon and Levi, he also loves using it when you’re not

-You’ve woken up to him curled up and asleep in that thing quiet often and he’s gotten in trouble over it every time with Lucifer

-But he doesn’t care

-And at this point, I don’t think even he knows whether he’s doing it to get a reaction out of you or because he somehow found a way to make himself comfortable there

-He would low key use you as a mode of transportation every time you go to RAD

-Just clings the damn wheelchair and almost topples both of you over

-“Belphie, there’s nothing stopping you from walking 😐”

-“Shh, just bring me to class and let me nap until then.”

-He doesn’t mention your legs but he still lays his head on your lap often

-Might make you hold him like a bride every time you stroll around the house

-It’s done out of love, I promise 😌😌

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Al~

[nothingunrealistic]

Hello I am the “what is billions about” anon pls share ur thoughts as well I am listening

hello!! i have many thoughts and milo covered quite a few of them in their answer (which i’m sure you checked out already but maybe someone Else reading this hasn’t yet, who’s to say) so i’m basically gonna supplement that post / give a slightly more structured Season By Season breakdown of What Is Billions, Anyway. spoilers, naturally.

first, an Overall Statement, on which i’m going to quote one of the billions showrunners, brian koppelman (here he’s also speaking for the other billions showrunner / his creative partner, david levien), on what he hopes people take away from the show:

I think that people love to watch hyper-intelligent, hyper-verbal people who are charismatic and charming, and who really love what they do, and who love being in this contest and this game.

For us, what we’re interested in, is why America is willing to substitute verbal acuity, charm, power and wealth for true qualities of character, like kindness and empathy? We hope that by watching the show and getting off on it when these characters do really bad things, it makes us all wonder why we’re rooting for them sometimes.

these characters are forever gunning to speak in the most obscure references and quickest witticisms of anyone in the room, to give the most inspirational off-the-cuff monologues, to indulge in the best meals and the most expensive luxuries — and constantly saying and doing horrible things to one another and to total strangers, because they can. so that’s a major Theme to keep in mind. (we talk about brian and david quite a bit. authorly intentions are interesting.)

season one sets up The World Of Billions and the tangled relationships between the three initial leads. bobby “axe” axelrod is a rich & successful hedge fund ceo who’s widely loved in nyc for famously surviving 9/11 and engaging in philanthropy. chuck rhoades is a ruthless us attorney in manhattan who prosecutes financial crime but has, until now, avoided going after axe and his hedge fund, axe capital, despite axe’s reputation for Shady Dealings. wendy rhoades is chuck’s wife, and axe capital’s on-call performance coach / therapist and axe’s bff. (allegedly. i’m rarely convinced that their friendship is as Real And Weird And Deep as we’re meant to believe, but we are meant to believe it.) chuck can’t deal with his wife being best friends with some other guy, let alone some guy who’s doing finance crimes, so once he resolves to Take Axe Down, he spends most of the season figuring out how, with the help of two assistant us attorneys, kate sacker and bryan connerty. axe doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, and can’t deal with any man getting more of wendy’s attention than he does, so he spends most of the season fighting back. (let’s also note that axe has a wife, lara, who is at best uneasy about wendy’s sway over him.) 

chuck uses his power to do a lot of questionable things, up to and including stealing wendy’s notes on her axe capital patients, ostensibly in the service of justice. axe uses his wealth to do a lot of questionable things, up to and including letting one of his employees die to protect axe from prosecution when he could have extended the employee’s life, so he can keep making money. (also, we — and many, many people in nyc — find out that axe made his fortune off of 9/11 and tried to keep it buried for 14 years. he’s not so well loved after that.) the season ends with wendy deciding she’s sick of both of them, quitting her job at axe capital, and kicking chuck out of the house, followed by axe & chuck meeting face to face to yell about how much they hate each other and how they’ve both lost wendy by being so exquisitely terrible.

so this is the world that taylor mason (the most important character, as you know) walks into. rich men make their wealth of off suffering and death; powerful men abuse their public trust for personal ends; and the lives and wellbeing of everyone else turn on the whims of the rich and powerful and whatever years-long personal grudges they feel like satisfying today. (and sometimes, rich and powerful people will walk up to each other and say things like “What’s the point of having fuck you money if you never say fuck you?” and “You’re sure to become President of the Libertarian Club of Danbury Federal Prison.”)

season two introduces us to taylor and demonstrates that it’s not so easy for axe & chuck to become disentangled from wendy, or one another. early on, axe, chuck, & wendy are all under legal scrutiny due to the circumstances of chuck stealing wendy’s notes and wendy leaving axe capital. when axe is introduced to taylor by mafee, their mentor, and recognizes their brilliance, he enlists them to help attack another hedge fund ceo who wendy’s chosen to work for (and who is generally awful); chuck, who’s in danger of being fired, holds onto his job by successfully prosecuting (with the assistance of connerty and sacker) a prominent banker who’s also a friend of axe. axe decides to invest in a poor town in upstate new york, as a favor to a family friend, and puts taylor on figuring out if it’s a good deal; chuck is pushed to run for governor by his father, chuck senior, and senior sabotages a deal that would have brought a lot of money to the upstate town, which means a lot of money potentially lost for axe capital. (taylor, perhaps surprisingly, calls for stripping the town for all it’s worth to make up the loss.)

taylor gains favor with axe, gets used to a life of increasing wealth and power, finds themself on connerty’s radar, and starts to see the personal costs of doing business at axe capital. chuck & axe set their sights on one another again, which isn’t helped by axe finally managing to hire back wendy, a deal that strains chuck and wendy’s ongoing attempt to repair their marriage and hastens the crumbling of axe and lara’s marriage. (other than axe, the only person happy to see wendy back at axe capital is taylor — the two properly meet for the first time and click immediately.) chuck convinces senior to invest in a company, ice juice, that chuck’s best friend, ira schirmer, has also invested in, knowing that axe will try to ruin the company to hurt chuck and profit from its ruin — he does, and chuck gets it all on camera. wendy is again stuck in the middle, without knowing what chuck is planning, and decides to take a chunk of the profits axe is making. axe gets arrested, and wendy & chuck go home together, but only after axe sets taylor up to lead axe capital in his absence, lies about coming home to lara, and hugs wendy goodbye while chuck watches.

season three elevates taylor to more and more power, while setting axe against them — and, shockingly, on the same side as chuck — for the first time. axe is frustrated about the ice juice case and about having to give up his right to trade in order for axe capital, under taylor’s leadership and (allegedly) without axe’s input, to do business at all. (he’s also frustrated about lara deciding to divorce him, but it’s on the back burner, really.) chuck isn’t doing much better — senior and ira now hate him for using them as bait for axe; the new attorney general, jock jeffcoat, is forcing him (and sacker, who’s now his right hand attorney) to take on cases he hates in order to keep his job; and connerty, who’s supposed to be leading the ice juice case against axe, keeps finding evidence that points to chuck’s involvement. while taylor is in charge of axe cap, and with wendy advising them, they get accustomed to doing things their own way & dealing with crises, decide to hire quantitative analysts (aka quants! hello winston!) to help develop an algorithm that will change how axe capital does business, fend off / work around axe’s repeated attempts to make their decisions for them, and grow disillusioned with the culture of axe capital. (an example: taylor, and everyone at axe capital, watch a man die in an explosion on live television, and almost everyone around them starts cheering because they’ll make money off of it.)

chuck & axe are both fighting to make sure the other guy goes down over ice juice — until the news of wendy’s involvement gets out, and they have to work together to keep her safe and out of jail. (their plan to do this involves putting mafee in the line of fire, which taylor picks up on and confronts wendy about.) once the case is resolved, and chuck, axe, & wendy all get off scot-free, chuck reconciles with senior & ira and fires connerty for daring to come after him, and axe returns to axe capital and knocks taylor off their perch, back to being a regular employee. axe prepares to raise new money for axe capital, while undoing much of taylor’s work and belittling them and their requests for input and autonomy. chuck gives up his run for governor and tries to get jeffcoat out of office. but both of them are blindsided by betrayal — axe by taylor starting their own hedge fund, taylor mason capital, with the money raised for axe capital, and chuck by connerty and sacker siding with jeffcoat to get chuck fired. with chuck no longer the us attorney, he and wendy agree he’s got nothing against axe, and the three of them meet to start planning their retribution.

season four focuses on everyone’s desire for revenge against someone else, particularly axe & wendy’s separate but related desires for revenge against taylor. axe is trying to crush taylor & their company any way he can (sometimes with the assistance of his new girlfriend, rebecca cantu), and firing / threatening anyone at axe capital who gets in touch with them, because he can’t bear to let them succeed. chuck is running for state attorney general, because he needs a position of power to go after connerty, who’s now the us attorney, and jeffcoat. axe & chuck make a deal: if axe helps chuck get elected, chuck will make sure taylor is arrested. (“arrested for what?” axe doesn’t care what. just crimes.) wendy is helping both axe & chuck with their respective goals and feeling vindictive herself because she believes taylor took advantage of her empathy for them to put them in a position to start their own fund. taylor does well fending off axe’s attacks at first, with the help of mafee, their coo sara hammon, and other new employees. then their father, douglas mason, comes to visit, and three things become clear: 1) their relationship is difficult because he has almost no respect for them 2) they’re desperate for his approval 3) he’s come to see them because he wants their financial support for a personal project.

chuck wins his election, with axe’s help and with a very personal public speech. once in office, he agrees to help senior with a real estate deal; his legally questionable “help” catches the attention of connerty, sacker, and jeffcoat, who go to equally questionable lengths to prove that chuck is doing crimes. (an example: breaking into senior’s apartment to steal evidence from his biometrically locked safe.) wendy, who’s angry about her inclusion in chuck’s very personal speech, reaches out to taylor to talk. she learns that taylor is funding douglas’s personal project and, using her knowledge of their strained relationship from therapy sessions with taylor, works with axe to force taylor to kill the project. douglas walks out; taylor is devastated and wants some revenge of their own. (so does sara, who reports wendy for medical malpractice.) taylor attacks a company owned by rebecca, and axe supports her, until rebecca & taylor cut both their losses by cutting a deal. this makes axe so mad that he destroys the company instead, alienating rebecca and bankrupting taylor mason capital. chuck & senior’s real estate deal turns out to be a trap for connerty and jeffcoat (but not sacker, because she’s too smart for that), and it succeeds. however, chuck was supposed to be helping wendy keep her medical license; when she finds out that he didn’t do a thing, she walks out on him and into axe’s apartment. chuck, who was already sick of axe, “arrests” taylor and tells them that, though axe wants him to blackmail taylor into returning to axe capital, chuck wants them to go back as his operative to take axe down. taylor agrees to all sides of this deal, and returns to axe capital with their employees in tow, intending to just wait it out until axe and chuck destroy one another.

season five forces the leads to deal with the messes they made in season four, and smashes up & reforms the relationships of that season. axe, who’s feeling adrift after reaching a net worth of $10 billion and not feeling happy about it, is going in all directions at once. he decides that fellow deca-billionaire mike prince, who keeps swiping things he wants, is his new arch-nemesis; he applies for a bank charter for axe capital so he’ll never have to work again; he hires a artist, nico tanner, to paint for him on commission. the only thing he doesn’t do is run axe capital, even with the return of taylor, who he said he wanted around to help him make better plays, and their confession to him that they came back in collaboration with chuck. axe & chuck are ostensibly still allies, but chuck, with sacker behind him, is trying every angle he can think of to send axe to jail and prevent him from getting a bank charter. taylor, who’s struggling to achieve anything under the weight of appeasing both axe & chuck and the interference of other axe capital people in taylor mason capital’s work, teams up with wendy to win over investors and reinvents their fund as taylor mason carbon, focused on environmentally friendly investing. wendy and chuck get divorced, but are still entangled by shared assets and familial commitments; wendy and tanner take to one another romantically, axe finds out, and as we recall from season one, axe can’t deal with any man getting more of wendy’s attention than he does; and all of taylor’s employees are suspicious of wendy and her intentions.

season five hasn’t yet been filmed or aired in full thanks to covid, but where we’ve left off, axe has lost out on his bank charter, discovered that taylor and wendy teamed up with prince, and deliberately driven a wedge between axe & tanner, all in one night. it seems likely that wendy’s soon going to be as alienated from axe as she already is from chuck, and probable or at least possible that there’s more to taylor’s partnership with wendy than we’re led to believe. but we really have no idea what’s going to happen or even when we’re going to see it happen, and in a way that’s the best description of billions anyone could give.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Exactly What You Need: Owen

To the Anon who won the “guess the post-apocalyptic New Zealand kids’ show Owen Grant had a guest star role on”: Here is your requested drabble! Owen Grant, the night he ordered Kauri.

CW: Owen is a fucking creep. Implied/referenced assault/abuse with younger!Vincent Shield, manipulate/abusive thoughts, dehumanization. Owen Grant is a dark man and people triggered by abuser thoughts regarding rape/assault should please heed that and stay safe

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings,

It started with the hair, and the eyes.

Originally, he hadn’t really thought about Vince, exactly - he was just… he was just kind of lonely, and he’d been scrolling the Whumpees-R-Us site, thinking about how it seemed like basically everyone with a name worth knowing and a good stock portfolio had one of the Box Boys or Box Babes now.

And it might be nice to have someone around here to talk to. It’s not like he could talk to the fucking Roomba.

The condo was gorgeous, and he went out to lunch a few times a week with Nicole and some of the former costars and everything that he’d kept in touch with, went to conventions, even wrote an introduction for a book on the dark side of child acting that was pretty well received. He went to the gym three days a week, he watched a bunch of Youtubers that updated pretty regularly. Owen kept himself busy, basically, and none of it stopped him from being really. fucking. lonely. 

His mother had called one night after he’d been drinking for two or three hours straight, slowly killing a bottle of gin and a bag of limes while sending increasingly drunken text messages to no one in particular.

He and his mother still talked two or three nights a week. He was probably the only former child actor he knew who still had a really close relationship with his mom… or at least as close as your relationship can be when you’re lying to her about fucking everything about yourself.

She knew anyway. She’d been the one to help him cover it all up with Vince, what happened, why they never spoke again. She knew - but her constituents were bigoted assholes and in the part of the country Carlotta Grant set her sights on, you have to play to the bigoted asshole or you don’t get elected.

His mom was the biggest bitch he knew, but she wasn’t a bigot, exactly. Just happy to roll over for them for the sake of her Senate career. It would kill her ambitions if too much about Former Child Star Owen Grant got into the news, so Owen lied to everybody and everybody pretended to believe him. He’d been lying about it since he was still acting, it’s not like it was that hard to just… keep lying, right?

Even if he’d sort of hoped quitting acting - getting away from Vince and what happened - making his own life out here away from everyone… he’d sort of hoped he could stop lying, then. But nope. Mom got all political and Owen kept on lying.

He’d fucking hate her for it, if he didn’t love her so much.

In any case, she’d called and Owen had been trashed and it… well. The whole time he’d had the Whumpees-R-Us site up, looking through options, scrolling past faces that weren’t right. Or they almost were. But they weren’t the one he wanted. 

“Mom, I just want someone here who cares about me,” Owen had said, heavily, into the phone. He knew his words had gone slightly slurred, and he waited for her derision - his mother was the queen of it, after all, of cutting you apart with words alone. “Listen to this - a Whumpees-R-Us nonproductive pet can arrive with any skillset you require or phys, physical combination of- shit, sorry, Mom, I’m drunk-”

“Yes. I can quite tell you are. Don’t be ridiculous, Owen, you’re not getting one.”

“I’m a grown-ass man, Mom, and I say I am.”

“Would you at least order a girl?” 

There it is, Owen thought. Carlotta Grant didn’t care if her only child bought a living human person, just if it fit the version her constituents wanted to see. 

He took incredible pleasure is pausing long enough to take another long sip of lime and gin before he answered, “Oh, it’ll definitely be a boy.”

“Owen…” Carlotta sighed, heavily. “Darling. We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it. At great length, no matter how often I asked you to stop. I want a boy and I’ll have one. Here’s a compromise, Mom - what if I don’t let it leave? I’ll keep it in here with me, they can train it to not be able to even walk out the door without me.”

“Owen…”

“Take it or leave it, Mom.”

Carlotta went quiet again, for much longer this time. Then she finally said, “Fine. Owen… I know that my decision was difficult for you-”

“All of your decisions are difficult for me, Mom.”

“Your decisions haven’t exactly been easy for me, either. Vincent Shield could still cause trouble for me, if he ever chooses to air what you did to him publicly.”

“He won’t. We told him I’d stay away from him if he kept it hush-hush, and he did. He won’t say anything to anyone, Mom. You can trust him. I couldn’t, but you can. It doesn’t help his career either, you know, if they find out about him.” Owen felt his throat catch, had to swallow hard against the tears. 

“Right. We don’t need them find out about your latent sadism, either, but I suppose I must put my trust in the career aspirations of Vincent Shield. Get whatever you want, Owen, but I had better not see it step one foot outside of that condominium if it makes it into the news.”

They spoke for a while longer, about nothing and relatives and people who had recently died or pissed his mother off, senate bills she was worried about and Owen’s latest project bankrolling a documentary exposing a monopolizing pharmaceutical giant, and the whole time Owen’s mind wasn’t on the conversation at all, but on Vincent fucking Shield.

They’d been inseparable. They’d made promises to each other. Then Owen had fucked one tiny little thing up - just the one thing, and it hadn’t even been that bad, what he’d done, and Vincent had probably liked it anyway - and Vincent had left and never came back.

He glanced down at his empty glass with a bit of ice that still clinked, and then up at the Whumpees-R-Us website. Create a completely customized option for minimal surcharges and receive the perfect pet of your dreams.

He poured more gin, added another twist of lime. “You know what my perfect fucking pet is?” He asked no one in particular. The Roomba beeped softly under the couch in its docking station. “Vincent Shield’s my perfect fucking pet. Make him feel pretty fucking sorry for what he did. They don’t have anyone on here who even looks like him…”

Then his blurry, bleary eyes caught a line at the bottom of the pictured Box Boy options. This does not represent the totality of what Whumpees-R-Us can provide. Send us your requirements and we will dedicate ourselves to fulfilling your every need, with an added surcharge.

So he clicked on the custom order form for Box Boys, watching it load, blinking at how fucking huge the page was. And it started with a simple box that asked what kind of pet you were searching for.

Owen very nearly wrote I’m so fucking lonely.

Instead, he settled for Companion.

The screen blinked and new options appeared. Platonic, Romantic, Domestic, or Combination?

Owen snorted. Platonic. He wasn’t some fucking sicko, he was just looking for someone to bring some life into this place. But… maybe it was just that he was drunk, or maybe it went deeper than that. In any case, a thought came to mind. He pictured wide blue eyes in a face that used to be pale, now tanned on all the movie posters. Thought of those eyes full of tears, for him. Then… then he thought of what it might be like if those eyes weren’t full of tears, but something else.

The thing Vincent had owed him, and had never been able - or willing - to give.

Then he unclicked his previous decision, and chose Combination. 

We will return to detailed specifics of your [Combination] requirements in a later section. For now, please list physical requirements for your Box Boy.

Owen swallowed, looked up the photo of the movie poster for Dimmer Switch, with 20-year-old Vincent Shield and 17-year-old Owen Grant in action poses against a dark background and a glowing light. Vincent’s face was clearly visible - soft and slightly sweet-looking, wide blue eyes, curly black hair. Long limbs and kind of a slim body type, not as muscled-up as he was now.

Not that Owen kept up with his career or what he looked like now, or anything.

He started with the hair, and the eyes. At first it felt wrong, like he was trying to build a Frankenstein’s monster for himself, but it was all perfectly legal and if it was really wrong, why were so many people buying them now? 

No, this was fine.

Owen was fine.

He was going to bring Vincent Shield home, and once Vince came back here, he was never, ever going to be able to leave.

He checked every box, wrote down details. At the bottom of the physical requirements section there was a spot to upload photo references, and he added the movie poster, some other pictures from magazine interviews from back then, he and Vince together in a few of them. Shots of Vince with the mop of curly hair and a bright wide smile, flashing whitened teeth. Shots of Vince with his arm around Owen, the both of them grinning for the photographer.

It took nearly two hours to finish, and by the end of it he’d stopped being drunk or maybe he was drunker than ever, but he’d entered a place of perfect clarity about his decision. He was about to spend a lot of money on this boy.

It was going to be perfect.

In the final box for any added comments not covered by the questionnaire, Owen Grant typed, Make it so he can never, ever leave me without fear. Make it so he wants my touch more than anything else in the world. Make it so he would lose his mind before he’d lose me. I want him to be sweet, and kind of a soft person. I want him to put up with anything I do to him. 

He paused, considering, and then added one more thing.

I want him to love me.

Then he pressed SUBMIT, made himself drink a glass of water, and passed out in his bed.

When he woke up the next morning, the Roomba was in the middle of a cleaning routine and his phone was ringing. He squinted at a number he didn’t know, but decided to answer it on kind of a whim. His number was private and only a few people had it - if someone was calling he didn’t know, it was probably one of his mom’s staff members. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Mr. Owen Grant?” A warm, melodic voice spoke on the other end of the line.

“Ah, this is Owen Grant.”

“This is Karen Renford, Client Satisfaction Director at Whumpees-R-Us. We received your request for a custom order last night and I’ve just had time to review it. There is… an exceptional amount of specialization in this order form, Mr. Grant.”

“I… I know. Shit. Oh, sorry.”

“No apologies required. I indulge in a bit of profanity myself on occasion.”

“The, the order form… was it too much?”

Too much to hope for, that Vince’s blue eyes could be all for him. Too much to dream, that he could fix all his old mistakes. Too much, to think he could keep someone here when Vince had run so far, so fast, and made it impossible to get close again.

“Not at all. We are aware of your… connections, Mr. Grant. We would love to work with you on this request, and hope you would let your influential mother know how excited we were to be given this opportunity to truly prove the merits of our methods.” 

Owen tried not to audibly snort.

“We already have a suitable candidate in mind who is most of the way through his basic training, although there have been a few… hiccups.”

“Hiccups?”

“Ah, it’s all part of the process.” She did not quite laugh, but there was a lilt to her voice that suggested she wanted to. “645898 is a sweet soul at heart, once you take apart the rest of him. I think he’ll be perfect for what you need.”

“So why the phone call?”

“It is customary for the company to directly contact clients of your… discerning and exacting taste. Considering the costs associated with so many specialized requests-”

“I am more than able to pay the amount owed, Ms. Renford.”

“Oh, we know that. This isn’t about money at all, Mr. Grant. Whumpees-R-Us is dedicated to client satisfaction, and it’s my job to look at this form, speak directly with you, and ensure that you receive exactly what you need.”

“So you can make him… want to stay here? Not able to leave?”

“Can we make him ‘love’ you, as you requested on your form?” Her voice held no mockery, no hint of judgement. “Mr. Grant, your request is considerable, but I believe we can ensure that your boy won’t ever be able to take a step out the front door without you by his side. We can make sure those big blue eyes are focused entirely on you, no matter what you do to him.”

Owen’s free hand clenched slowly into a fist, and something twisted and untwisted inside of him. 

Vince’s eyes, all on me. No matter what I do. 

“That sounds perfect,” Owen breathed out, shifting in the bed. “I want him to think I’m safe. That I’m the safest thing in the whole world.”

No matter how much I hurt him.

[clexa--warrior]

Hey, Have You Heard About This Coronavirus Thing? Crazy Shit, Right? (Ferret/Shower Cap)

History texts depicting this period will read like deranged Choose Your Adventure books written by sadists; no matter how frantically you flip backwards, you just can’t seem to find the page when you still had the option to vote for the really smart lady with the email server. Anyway, join me for a quick news round-up, it won’t take long, and when we’re done, I give you permission to run away to join a roving Thai monkey street gang.

(As always, find this post WITH nifty news links here: http://showercapblog.com/hey-have-you-heard-about-this-coronavirus-thing-crazy-shit-right/)

For those of you just waking up from a Rip Van Winkle nap, the United States is facing a massive, coast-to-coast, health crisis, whose tragic consequences have exploded exponentially because our Idiot Manchild President really believed, in that churning campground septic tank he calls a mind, that protecting his personal approval ratings by understating the problem was more important than the health and safety of the American public. I don’t know what you can call that but murder. On the one hand, it’s weird to say “wow, the President murdered a bunch Americans through boneheaded, unforgivably selfish, neglect,” but we already saw him get away with precisely that crime in Puerto Rico, so here we are.

Now, I have come to expect malice from the federal government under Hairplug Himmler, but sometimes their capacity for raw, senseless, evil still shocks me. This is my way of saying that, until they got fucking caught, the Department of, and Someone Should Slap the Word Out of Their Filthy Mouths, Justice attempted to remove CDC fliers offering potentially life-saving information regarding the coronavirus from...immigration courtrooms. My God. What a small but potent horror. Feels like the work of an ambitious intern in Stephen Miller’s office, doesn’t it? Trying to impress the boss? Just a sinister little trick, to spread a little more pain, a little more misery, a little more death in an already vulnerable, and whatta-coincidence-nonwhite, community? Fuck these awful, awful, people.

It seems President Liposuction Clinic Dumpster has been calling up leading Taliban terrorists on a secret U.S. kill-or-capture list, presumably to trade tips n’ tricks on how to undermine the USA at home and abroad. Now, negotiating with these murderous dirtbags is a big diplomacy no-no (and of course Donnie Dotard got rolled anyway) but in all honestly, if I had access to a secret kill list contact sheet, I’d probably give in to the temptation to make some prank calls. “Is your refrigerator running? Yeah? Are you sure it’s not a FLEET OF DRONES ABOVE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

For Jeff Sessions, the wages of sin turned out to be a faceful of Trump-branded fecal matter, as the Candycorn Skidmark, whose campaign Ol’ Beauregard embraced way back before fascism was cool in conservative circles, endorsed his opponent in the coming Alabama Senate runoff. How must it feel to have been the very fellow who flipped the switch on the Rube Goldberg/Mousetrap Board Game device that destroyed America, and to watch the machine work its destructive magic for years, only to realize it’s also got one special crotch punt in store for just you personally. I’d feel bad for Bilbo Bigot, if it he weren’t, y’know, one of the very worst people alive.

Alex Jones got arrested for drunk driving, and, upon his release, got right back to work selling...sigh...selling some bullshit toothpaste that he’s telling the rubes magically cures the coronavirus. Authorities are cracking down on Jones and fellow charlatan Jim Bakker over their odious snake oil peddling enterprises, but I don’t know what’s more shocking and disappointing to me, that there are such vile fuckwads in the world, who seek to profit off the fear of the misinformed during times of crisis, or that said fuckwads have so many blind, willing, disciples?

Speaking of fuckwads, Ron Johnson seems to have backed down, for now at any rate, from his quest to stage a show trial for Hunter Biden in the U.S Senate. And that’s awesome and all, but never forget how ready, how eager, RoJo has been, to corruptly manipulate the vast powers of the government for his democracy-stomping Turdlord’s political benefit. Ron is the kind of fellow you’d have found stamping documents outside trains bound for Dachau.

But yeah, I suppose the big story is still that coronavirus thing. Great choice on evolution’s part, the way symptoms don’t necessarily manifest right away, so we can spread that shit around without knowing we’re even infected. Anyway, I made sure to thoroughly disinfect tonight’s blog before posting, and medical professionals inform me that though the virus can linger on plastic and metal surfaces for as long as days, it cannot survive on a poo joke, so please rest easy, knowing you can safely consume this content in comfort. Unless you're reading it next to somebody with the coronavirus, but that's on you, kid.

The Shart Administration has actually slowed progress in this crucial fight, by classifying high-level coronavirus meetings, because they’re more worried about congressional oversight of their crimes n’ fuckups than they are about OUR LIVES, and y’know what, I do believe I’ll be voting Democrat this November.

And of course, many conservatives are more concerned with blaming the virus on the Chinese than preventing its spread; by gum, there’s no need to abandon yer principles, even when your ineptitude is getting countless folks sick and/or killed! “We may be a cabal of dangerously incompetent assclowns, but let none forget that we are also RACIST assclowns!”

With the stock market finally catching up to the rest of the world in noticing a pudding-brained twit had inexplicably been placed in charge of the most powerful nation in history, Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot oozed into the Oval Office for a prime time speech, and if his goal was “fuck up the entire world as much as humanly possible in ten short minutes,” then he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings.

It was a speech that completely failed to reassure, instead reminding the world that this drooling manbaby, this bathtub drain hair clog in an ill-fitting suit, truly is President of the Entire United Fucking States, and not only is he light years out of his element but he’s probably spending most of his time practicing his “the world is ending, you have to go out with me now” phone call to Salma Hayek rather than pursuing desperately-needed solutions.

Despite being on teleprompter, with the text of the fucking speech right fucking in front of him, Dorito Mussolini somehow managed to catastrophically misrepresent his own administration’s policies, dropping one more cartoon anvil on the stock market’s already-throughly-bludgeoned ballsack. This is, of course, on top of nonsensical non-solutions like banning travel from Europe, when the virus had already had weeks to spread throughout the country thanks to presidential bungling and neglect.

For 73 years, this cretin has somehow never encountered a problem he couldn’t lie, buy, or bully his way out of, but COVID-19 doesn’t care how much money your daddy gave you, little man. And may I say, on behalf of the thousands who are about to become sick, fuck you. Fuck you eternally with a rusty shovel, for daring to take on such an important job without the skills, temperament, or character to execute its duties. Asshole.

In contrast, Smilin’ Joe Biden gave a speech of his own; calm, collected, solemn, and filled with concrete steps to address the problems facing the nation. And America collectively went, “Oh right, it’s actually highly abnormal to have a gibbering, rectum-mouthed, dolt for a President, and we can actually have a decent, competent, one again! Soon!” It was like leadership porn. I got aroused.

Meanwhile, our already-hopelessly-overmatched Golf Cheat in Chief is multitasking, lobbing missiles at Iran-backed militias in Iraq. I’m just hoping the buttons on his desk are clearly labeled, y’know? Or at least that there’s somebody hanging around who can tackle him before he bombs Seattle and launches 500 respirators at Tehran.

So, um, in the midst of this once-in-generation shitstorm, I guess Sarah Palin dressed up in a bear suit to perform “Baby Got Back” on a reality television program. I’m not a religious person, honestly, but I’m increasingly open to the idea that there is a God, and that s/he’s been on a meth bender since mid-2016.

Social distancing is the zany new anti-dance craze sweeping the nation as we all do our damndest to not get sick and die! As a result, public gatherings are getting called off left and right. March Madness, MLB, NBA, PGA, SXSW, Broadway...personally, I don’t think I fully appreciated the scope of this crisis until I saw the XFL shut down their season. Like, are we even America anymore without one billionaire’s sad attempt to reboot his once-failed vanity project?

As sensible organizations all over the world made painful but obviously necessary sacrifices to, y’know, slow the spread of a deadly disease and save lives, naturally the Velveeta Vulgarian was among the last holdouts, canceling his precious hate rallies only grudgingly, because the safety of even his own fervent base is secondary to the sugar rush of their rageful cheers, filling, if only for a moment, that empty space within him where most people have a soul.

Now more than ever, I am brimming over with gratitude that we took the House back in 2018. Thank god there’s a little leadership, a little accountability, a little common frickin’ sense in Washington now. And thank god for Katie Porter, one of the standouts in a freshman class packed with absolute ass-kickers, cornering the CDC chief into exercising his legal authority to make coronavirus testing free for every American. Imagine if Kevin McCarthy were running the House right now. He’d be fleeing from reporters, in mismatched loafers, trying to sell the public on a bill bailing out nothing but Trump University and Marm-a-Lago.

Well, the Emperor of Hemorrhoids finally buckled and declared (acknowledged) a state of emergency over the coronavirus, which is admittedly a pleasant change from his previous “do everything I possibly can to help the fucker spread” position. We’re still woefully behind, and god only knows how deeply the virus has penetrated while the doddering old bastard diddled and dawdled, but the good news is, the President of the United States finally moved his bloated ass out of the road so we can get to work cleaning up his mess, which is, I suppose, as close to an act of kindness as he’s come in his entire misspent, treacherous, life.

In the middle of today’s press conference, Vice President Mike Pants paused to give Boss Turdworm a rhetorical handjob seemingly designed to last through an entire 14-day quarantine. Jeeeeesus. Mikey Hairshirt was a man once. Not much of one, to be certain, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of bored schoolchildren pouring salt on him, which would of course prove swiftly fatal in his current state.

A reporter asked Government Cheese Goebbels, “Hey, if you’re not too busy fellating yourself over fucking up slightly less than you’ve been fucking up for weeks, why the fuck did you close down the pandemic office, you nation-wrecking clod?” and he whinged that the question was “nasty,” before reiterating his refusal to take responsibility for the things that are, objectively, his fault. I truly do not understand how this trembling coward’s approval rating isn’t 0%

So Nancy Pelosi spent the week trying to hammer out an emergency bill with Steve Mnuchin, but Republicans naturally balked at many necessary measures. It’s a tricky spot for the GOP; they can’t risk the mass-extermination of the underpaid labor/consumer force that keeps their donor class filthy rich, but doing anything to improve working folks’ lives is just instinctually anathematic to them. But at the time of posting, it does appear as though a deal has been reached, let’s hope no spray-tanned morons fuck it up, right?

In conclusion, I am sick of typing the word “coronavirus,” and you are sick of reading it, so let’s let’s all retreat to our quarantines for the weekend, okay? Enjoy the solitude! Read that novel you bought back in college! Watch that 425-minute Russian film set in a fish cannery! Hey, you can even peruse the archives at showercapblog.com if you feel like reliving just how the fuck it all came to this! Anyway, if you don’t hear from me for a bit, fear not, I’m turning production of this blog over to Jared Kushner, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.

[amaramonette]

is that [ ISABEL DURANT ]? no, that’s just [ AMARA MONETTE ]. [ SHE/HER ] is [ TWENTY-SIX ] years old and is a [ PROFESSIONAL FIGURE SKATER ]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ NEARLY THEIR WHOLE LIFE ]. on a good day, they’re [ PERCEPTIVE & CULTURED ]. but watch out! they can also be [ SPITEFUL & POSSESSIVE ]. [ MORAL OF THE STORY by ASHE ] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around spring hill!

hellllooo! i’m li and i’m pretty excited to be here and start using my new bby. she’s a bit of a mash-up of a few different muses that i absolutely love so i’m very stoked to see how this goes lmao. i apologize now for this bio, it took me fivever and it's hella long but like everything i do is long. ( sorry not sorry<3 ). i am also down for alllll the connections, the more drama and angst the better lol. hit me up if you’d like to plot or like this and i’ll come to you!

[ triggers: bad parenting tw, mental abuse tw, ]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

NAME → amara quinn monette NICKNAMES → mara, am, or ams AGE → twenty-six DATE OF BIRTH → october 28th PLACE OF BIRTH → springhill, nj, usa EDUCATION  → high school ged ZODIAC → scorpio GENDER → female ORIENTATION → pansexual, demiromantic RELIGIOUS VIEWS → atheist 

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

FACE CLAIM → isabel durant HEIGHT → 5'4" WEIGHT → 128 lbs HAIR COLOR → blonde EYE COLOR → blue BODY TYPE → thin, athletic

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

FATHER →  utp monette ( WC ) MOTHER → evelyn monette  YOUNGER SISTER → utp monette ( WC )

EX-HUSBAND  → utp ( WC )

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS → venturesome, determined, cultured, & perceptive 
NEGATIVE TRAITS → possessive, spiteful, dramatic, & oversensitive
 INTERESTS → dancing, cooking, photography, flower pressing, yoga, dogs, & caffeine 
DISLIKES → humblebraggers and name droppers, people who talk during movies, people who say ‘you look tired’, & willful ignorance  AESTHETICS → being up before the sun, the sound of skates on fresh ice, a vintage polaroid camera, a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, & a strong red wine.  
MORAL ALIGNMENT → chaotic neutral PERSONALITY TYPE → ENFP-T ( the campaigner )

BACKSTORY.

❦ amara monette was born and raised in spring hill, new jersey to a marine biologist and local contractor. her family has always been fairly well known in town as her father has been quite a pillar in the community and his company has done a lot of work for the town. her only sibling is six years younger than her and the two sisters have been like oil and water since the beginning and have never been able to see eye to eye on anything.

❦ the monette family dynamics could easily be categorized as dysfunctional but in amara’s eyes, that term is putting it lightly. there’s never been any doubt in the eldest daughter’s mind that she was an unplanned accident—a fact she’d gotten her mother to admit after heavy plying with wine when she was only a young teen. “if we didn’t have you, I could still be doing what I love.” her mother blathered drunkenly.

❦ the only person who didn’t treat her like that—as though she’d ruined their life—was her father, though due to his work, he spent more time out of the house than with his family. unlike her mother or sister, the one thing her father always did was encourage amara. remind her that no matter what she was striving for, it was possible and just within reach.

❦ the bond amara shared with her father was special, just as the bond her sister shared with their mother was special. though her sister also shared a loving, positive bond with BOTH of their parents and what amara shared with their mother was anything but positive or loving.

❦ at the age of four, her mother enrolled her in ballet classes hoping to teach the rambunctious little girl some discipline. much to her mother’s surprise, mara fell in love with dance immediately. but ballet, or dance in any such capacity, hadn’t been apart of her mother's ultimate plan for her. the following year, despite all the crying and protests from her daughter, the wannabe ballerina found herself being taught to ice skate.

❦ she didn’t particularly enjoy skating, not like the other girls she trained with did, but amara succeeded in ways many of them couldn’t over the years. her indifference to the sport and at being the best had given her an edge above the competition. and the more naturally gifted she proved to be at the sport, the further her mother pushed amara and the more intense the training became. as she got older she managed to convince her mother to let her enroll in dance classes once more if only to help in the long run, she’d say. it was in those moments, those classes, that she felt most at peace. as though she’d found just where she was meant to be—or what she ought to be doing. she’s never stopped dancing since. 

❦ at the age of nine, her mother had her pulled out of school to be privately tutored so she could spend more time on the ice—her mother only had one goal and she never let amara forget it. the olympics. though before her mother had the chance to remove her from school, the blonde had already made the best friend she could ever ask for. ( WC )

❦ it wasn’t until years later, at thirteen, she discovered that her mother had been forcing her down the same path she’d been set on as a girl. whereas her younger sister found herself free to pursue whatever interests she’d like, amara found herself on a rink shaped prison. and the unwavering pressure her mother applied only made it feel as though her ice space was forever shrinking.

❦ amara spent a majority of her youth and teens training, both on and off the ice, and whatever little free time she had left was spent with her small group of friends. friends her mother disliked for the most part and did all she could to keep her daughter away from. forcing amara to spend time with the other skaters in her class at every turn. not that she’d ever been able to fit in with them even if she wanted to. ( WCs )

❦ becoming a legal adult and dreaming of what it would finally be like to have the freedom she’d always longed for was just about all the blonde could do to keep moving forward. to keep her mother from truly bringing him down. but the relentless pressure from the cold-hearted woman and the fact that she showed no signs of letting up or letting amara walk away if she so desired to caused her to finally crack just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday.

❦ like a thief in the night, amara disappeared from her parents home taking as many of her belongings with her as she could carry, save for all her skating gear. she spent several weeks sleeping on the couches of different friends while hiding from her mother and whatever wrath she intended to unleash for her missing so much ice time and standing up the coaches her parents paid plenty of money for.

❦ it was in those weeks of solitude that amara discovered what skating actually meant to her and just how much she still needed it in her life. the seventeen-year-old realized that she wasn’t as ready to hang up her skates as she previously thought and that there was still a thing or two she could learn from being on the rink.

❦ amara returned to the ice on the sole condition that her mother would let her do things her own way and would stop projecting her own regrets and more importantly wants on her daughter. things began to look up after that for the monette family in more ways than one and dysfunction that had once been so deeply rooted began to dissolve away just a bit. ( not so much between the sister lol, mostly just amara and her mom )

❦ she moved out on her own not long after, eager to have a life of her own as best she could, but being as clueless and willing to trust as she was, amara made many mistakes and gave her heart away much too easily which only led to it being crushed repeatedly by those who weren’t worthy of safeguarding it, to begin with. ( WCs )

❦ at twenty-one, after only dating for about a year amara married the man she believed was the one. however, it didn’t take her long to see just how incredibly wrong she was and the relationship was more toxic than anything else. she filed for divorce ten months later. ( WC )

❦ amara continued skating in hopes of making the olympic team—but this time the dream truly belonging to her, which seemed to pay off as she managed to do so successfully twice in 2014 and again in 2018. the blonde got a bronze medal in 2014 and didn’t place at all in 2018 after taking a nasty fall during her long program and making the mistake of not taking enough overall risks to make up for it. spooked after the olympic fall that nearly ended her entire career, amara decided to stop skating at a competitive level.

❦ in the following years, amara found herself joining several different national ice-skating tours but couldn’t quite shake the feeling of how far she’d fallen and how demeaning her life now seemed, skating for nothing more than mere amusement. unsatisfied and upset upon coming to the conclusion there was nothing else she could truly exceed at, amara took up the mantle that countless other incredible skaters also had, coach. a rewarding job that’s more or less left her at peace. 

OTHER IMPORTANT INFO.

❦ growing up, she was the most curious of children, constantly asking questions and wanting to know more about anything and everything. as the years passed, her curiosity never quite fizzled out as her parents as hoped. instead, the small blonde just became more confident in her ability to get the answers she sought and more determined to have it when a person wasn’t forthright with her. it’s something that leads her to trouble too often as she’s brought on a whole new meaning to the idea of questioning authority.

❦ amara can be quite a master of deceit and manipulation if she’d like. she gets a sort of amusement out of playing games with people and confusing them, especially with those she doesn’t get on well with. she definitely has a few different faces and is very particular about when she wears which face. her sweet face, where she’s likely to try and charm the pants off people, is the face she wears most of the time when interacting with strangers or just the general public. few people have ever seen her at her truest and those who have are either the ones she trusts most or the ones who’ve crossed her in unforgivable ways.

❦ anyone who knows amara is aware of how jealous or possessive she can be of those in her life she cares for. she’s never been able to quite help herself and isn’t afraid to make her feelings known when she feels her relationships have been infringed upon in any way. making friends and building relationships has always been something she’s struggled with as her childhood wasn’t normal in any sense. all her time after school was spent training—on or off the ice. and when she wasn’t training she was home with her family who she didn’t quite mesh with.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

childhood best friend

ex-husband

father

younger sister

old friends —

new friends 

rivals 

exes / flings 

i’m here for it allll!

[dontyoudarejudgemesworld]

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: Chapter Three

Alright guys, so this takes place after a bit of a time skip. While I know that time skips are like coma theories (as in a sort of cheap way out) this is meant to illustrate the sort of relation ship Bill and her 'uncle' are creating. It's a long one (6,000+ words) but gives some insight to the characters. I know not everyone is a fan of time skips but if I were to go from start to finish for this whole fic it would be longer then the whole Lord of the Rings series so forgive me. The next few chapters will all include some kind of time skip as the focus of them is more to establish and form relationships serving as kind of independent one shots instead of parts of the over arching story-line. I understand that this may be a bit unpopular but considering what's coming it seems the best way to structure it to achieve my end goal with out having it drag on forever. I told you this was going to get weird. Also as an aside, I know there were some grammar and spelling errors in the first two chapters, this is due in part to my normal Beta reader being unavailable (because adulting is time consuming). That being said I had a stand in look this over an took much more time in transcribing it so I hope most of the errors were addressed.

Once again it’s posted here on AO3. And now onward to the insanity.

~*~ One Year Later

Stan sat pantsless in the TV room wondering if this was what contentment felt like. Beside him on the floor sat Billie leaning back against the dinosaur skull staring at the trash TV that played across the screen. Murphy announced ‘you ARE NOT the father’ for the third time in a row and the young woman who sat beside him burst out crying as a man who looked like he should be selling used cars jumped up triumphantly to the jeers of the audience. Beside Stan, his ‘niece’ let out a sharp bark of laughter as she took a sip of her soda. He glanced at her and shook his head; she really was a strange one.

In baggy basketball shorts and a tank top, he could see the mural of tattoos she sported. The sleeve on her right arm was actually a bed of colorful flowers and vines with skulls woven in, macabre but beautiful if he was honest. On her left shoulder was a raven’s head that looked like it was tearing through her flesh that was a little to photo-realistic for his taste. She also had a peacock on her left thigh with a long flowing tail that curved around to end on her knee cap, and a small green dog robot thing from some cartoon or other with the word ‘DOOM!!’ in crude childish letters on her right ankle. Wild black curls spilled over her shoulders in an unkempt mane and dark circles around her eyes told him that she had spent too long at the Skull Fracture last night getting rowdy with the lumberjacks. “Told you, Stan that means you’re picking up the tab at Greasy’s,” she told him cheerfully and he let out an exaggerated groan. He should know by now that betting against her was a fool errand. Over the last year, he’d learned a lot of things about Billie. Like she had no fixed address just various post office boxes, and instead, she lived out of a duffle bag and motel rooms. She worked for herself and seemed to make pretty decent money though he had all but confirmed his suspicion that she toed a very fine line between what was legal and what wasn’t. In truth, she played it pretty close to the vest when it came to discussing her work but she’d let a few things slip and he was willing to bet that she was a bloodhound at least part of the time. Someone that loan sharks and crime lords used to find people that didn't want to be found. A dangerous and ethically ambiguous profession at best. And while he couldn’t help but dislike that idea he couldn’t exactly say too much on the matter, instead of taking some small comfort in the fact that at least she wasn’t a full-fledged criminal like he’d been. Maybe if she had kids one day they’d manage to be upstanding members of society, but something told him she wasn’t the settling down type. Overall throughout seven visits and quite a few calls they had developed a comfortable relationship. After the fourth visit, he’d broken down and invited her to just come to stay at the Shack instead of staying at The Twin Beds. Which he regretted almost instantly; Wendy and Soos had both noticed at once and plied him with questions. Fortunately, Billie seemed to have inherited his Ma’s snake tongue and smoothly lied that she was the daughter of an old acquaintance that he was helping out with a place to stay between jobs without batting an eye. Soos and Wendy had been a bit wary of her at first, but they’d come to warm up to her. She tended to help around the shop and was generally amicable flashing charming smiles and quick wit to win them over. He was fairly certain she’d won over Wendy by covering for her so she could skip out to hang out with her friends a few times but couldn’t prove it. And Soos’s natural good nature had caused him to warm to her quickly, especially when she started helping him come up with and build new attractions for Stan to take credit for. When he wasn’t leading tours and she wasn’t off drinking and brawling with the bikers of the town (a pass time she seemed to enjoy a tad too much in his opinion) the two of them usually spent their time watching trash TV in between runs to Greasy’s diner and the bar. Though after she’d started staying with him he’d discovered that the woman could cook. He’d told her at one point that she didn’t need to but she’d shrugged it off with a smile and that cool laugh of hers saying ‘I spent enough nights hungry and cold that it’s a pleasure to be able to make a decent meal.’ That thought had given him pause to wonder what exactly she’d been through; her mother certainly sounded like a piece of work, but it seemed like so much more. But as much as he wanted to know he didn’t ask. In fact, he hardly asked her anything about her past and she in return didn’t ask about his. Instead, they had found a strange sort of comfort in each other's company. Two broken people who had had hard lives that could spend time around the other without pretending to be anything more than they were. The first few visits they'd both been on their best behavior, Billie had kept her habits of beer and brawling to herself and he had cut back on the cigar and shoplifting. But after an incident involving Billie sucker-punching a guy for asking her if she wanted to come back to his room and put a smile on her pretty face after which Stan had declared it was time to leave snatching the guy's wallet as they fled they had come to a silent agreement that they didn't need to put on 'upstanding citizens' acts anymore. He had thought a few times that he vaguely remembered that this strange feeling of accepting each other for who they were was what family had felt like back when Ford and he had been children, but he couldn’t quite be sure. “Earth to Stan,” Billie’s smooth southern drawl broke through his thoughts pulling him back to find her head cocked staring up at him one brow cocked curiously, “You didn't hear a damned word I said did yuh?” she asked a smirk pulling on her lips. “Naw, I was too busy thinking how sick I’m gonna feel at dinner so I cant go to Greasy’s,” he told her to cover his sappy musing. She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “The most expensive thing on the menu is 15 dollars. I know you're cheap but…,” she began only to be interrupted as an obnoxious commercial can on the volume raising ten octaves. “Are you completely miserable?” came Bud Gleeful’s voice. “Well I am now,” she growled putting one hand over her ear and glaring at the TV as the commercial played. Watching she cocked an eyebrow as Stan’s picture flashed up to be stamped with ‘FRAUD’, “What bullshrimp is this?” she asked incredulously, “That the chubby car salesman? He’s ten times the liar yuh are, how the hell does he have the gall to call yuh out like that?” “I know, right?  At least my customers have some interesting stories to go with the junk I sell them,” he said indignantly, “And what’s worse is it’s working. He’s got his kid pretending to be psychic and the tourists are eating it up. Heck, even the locals are. Putting a real cramp in my wallet. I wish there was something I could do to hit him hard but nothing seems to be working. Even the Squid-abitt isn’t enough,” he railed shaking his head. Beside him, Billie cocked her head one eye squinted in thought as she stared at the TV. “What about someone who can talk ta the dead?” she asked and his head snapped over to her his eyebrows shooting up. “What? Well, yeah that would be a real money maker but who the hell do I know that can do that?” he scoffed as he took a drink of his soda, “Even I can't pull that off.” “I can,” she said matter factly and his face pulled into a look of bored skepticism. “Yeah, and I can teach a pig to fly,” he snorted and she looked up at him that sly smirk of hers slowly crawling over her lips. “Ya wound me, Stanford. I’m from the south where snake oil peddlers are ah’ dime ah’ dozen. Hell Bud’s one that’s why he’s pulling this off so well,” she told him in a slightly condescending tone, “Tell you what I’ll go double or nothing on Greasy’s. If I can give yuh a two-night show that will make more then you do in the same two days. That means two dinners at Greasy’s and braggin’ rights from now until the end of the world,” she challenged and he couldn’t help the lopsided grin that pulled at his lips. “Only if you get it up and running by Saturday,” he added, that would give her the rest of the night and tomorrow to prepare. Not to mention that those were the moneymaker days with tour buses on top of regular foot traffic. A challenge he was sure even she couldn’t pull off but she just grinned and put her hand out. “Prepare ta eat crow, Stanford Pines,” she told him as he grasped her hand causing him to let out a sharp hoarse laugh. “Even you aren’t that good kid,” he sniped unable to help the smug laugh that escaped him at the fire that lit in her eyes at his challenge. “Oh you’re fixin’ ta eat those words old man,” she warned as she hopped to her feet. “Hey what about dinner,” he barked as she turned on her heel to head up to the attic. “Time is money, Stanford. Order Chinese from that there place at the mall, card’s by the phone,” she snapped as she hustled off to get started. Watching her go he couldn’t help but smile. She really was something else, and he’d managed to get dinner without paying for it.

~*~

A day and a half…that was all he’d given her. And now he was thinking that had been too much time. The woman had to be some sort of witch. There was no other explanation as to how literally overnight she’d managed to pull this off. By Friday morning there had been flyers plastered all over town with the simple drawing of a closed eye with the words ‘Esmeralda. Two nights only at the Mystery Shack.’ And apparently, somehow everyone in town had heard the whispers about a real live gypsy that could talk to the dead by noon (he had a theory that Billie had somehow gotten Wendy to help her spread the word but once again couldn’t prove it). By Friday night there was a deceptively large tent set up around the totem pole that looked like it had come out of some storybook. It would have been impressive if he didn’t feel the impending loss breathing down his neck. His one hope was that she wouldn't be able to pull off the act; after all, she had become someone the locals recognized by now so they surely wouldn't buy it when they saw her. That was until he’d come downstairs Saturday morning to find a gypsy woman sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee. Her skin held an olive tint, her eyes a rich deep brown, and her curly black mane was held away from her face by a scarf. She wore a frilled white shirt that hung off one shoulder and a skirt made up of layers of gauzy material in a rainbow of colors with a coin skirt hung low on her hips. Bangles crowded her wrists and a few on her ankle making her every movement musical. Staring at her she flashed him a bright grin. “Good morning Mr. Mystery I’m Esmeralda and I speak to the other side,” she greeted him in an accent that was European but not too strong. Staring at her it took him a minute to realize that she was his daughter. What gave it away was the bandage on her left hand, it was neatly wrapped and wouldn't be worth much note if he didn’t see the slight bump where her extra finger was folded across her palm to hide it. Shaking his head he stared open mouth at her, she looked like a cliche and it was brilliant. The tourist would eat it up. “How?” he demanded his voice cracking in indignant awe causing her to chuckle. “Lots of foundation, contacts, and years of practicing a dozen accents,” she told him smugly in that outrageous but somehow totally believable accent, “You can always admit defeat now Stan and I will only demand one of my dinners,” she offered. “No way toots. You never call a fight early,” he replied and she shrugged as she took another sip of her coffee. Arrogance rolled off her and he let out a low grumble, while he could appreciate her confidence speaking to the dead was a tall order. He opened his mouth to say something to her when Wendy's voice came from the gift shop. "Stan a tour bus just pulled up!" Glancing at 'Esmeralda' she flashed a wicked smile as she stood in a rattle of bangles and rolled her shoulders. Looking him up and down she couldn't help the smirk that pulled at her lips. "May the best con win, " she laughed resting all her weight in on hip as she stretched. Stan couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter that rose in him as a competitive fire lit in him. "Age and treachery with overcome youth and exuberance every time, " he reminded her and she shrugged as she moved to slip out the back door. Watching her go he shook his head getting his cane and flipping his eye patch down, he had to admit having some competition was making the day a bit more exciting. The next 10 hours were a whirlwind of activity as a flood of tourists poured through. He spun his stories with a flare he hadn't felt in years as Esmeralda flittered about. He had to admit that she was good; adding some rustic flare to his stories telling of sighting of the Cat-a-peid in the 'old country' and backing up the claim that the magic crystal they sold were steeped in the mystical energy of the forest. Between the two of them, they managed to create a fevered excitement in the visitors who all but threw their money at Wendy. But even as he reveled in what were surely record profits he couldn't help but notice that all of Billie's help was a double-edged sword. Even as she hyped his attractions she filtered about reading palms and offering charms that she made appear from her skirt. Shiny rocks and crudely carved figures on a bit of string, things he recognized from the bulk supply warehouse he bought his own junk from. A ten here and a twenty there that she slipped away with a smile and an offer to come see her tonight as the spirts had many messages and perhaps one was for them. And he finally got to see her speak to the dead, at least that was what it looked like. Gravitating to a cluster of tourists she placed a hand on her temple as she closed her eyes. Letting out a humming sound she peered up at the curious group. "There is a woman. Older, matronly who wishes to speak to one of you. Some connection with the letter T, " she said softly as she hummed again pausing for dramatic effect, "A name or hobbies maybe. Teresa. Or Teapots. Or Tammy. Or trains...tarting. Tabatha, maybe. I'm sorry it's hard to hear her. Her voice is a soft one but warm like..., " he began only to have one if the men, a middle-aged guy speak up suddenly. "Thelma?" he asked suddenly, "My Mema was named Thelma, " he said excitedly and a murmur went through the crowd. Billie smiled softly as though listening to someone speak before nodding. "Yes, Thelma. She passed suddenly, but not unexpectedly right, " she told him and he nodded his face pinching ever so slightly with emotion. "In her sleep, but she was 98," he supplied and Billie smiled gently as she nodded. "She wants you to know that it was painless and she is at peace, " she told him kindly as she shifted as though leaning closer to someone to hear, "She says that you're worrying over something financial. A promotion or payment of some sort. You are concerned that it won't happen, that it keeps you up at night. You are sleeping and it worries her. Do you know what she's talking about?" she asked and he nodded silently the crowd around him starting in wonder. "Ye...yea. I know what she's talking about, " he choked and Billie nodded sympathetically, "She says that you don't need to worry. That it will all work itself out. She says to tell you to have faith, that God wouldn't have you face a trial you could not handle, " she said her eyes flattering closed once more, "She says she loves you and that you need to read for your own health." For a moment silence hung in the air before the man moved forward and threw his arms around Billie thanking her. Around them, the crowd had tripled in size and an excited clamor rose from them all talking at once. It was amazing and a total sham. He'd seen this sort of psychic before, they were all over daytime TV. And while he had no idea how they did it he knew in his bones they were fakes. But even so, the audiences ate it up including the one now swarming around Billie. "Oh she's good, " he growled as he stood watching her work the crowd telling them that she would speak to the spirits tonight and they were welcome to come, no latter than 7 and cash only for her small admission fee. She only asked 20 dollars so she could continue her travels. And every single one ate it up like starving men. She smiled at just the right moments and spoke just the right word. And that when it hit him. This wasn't her first time pulling this con. She was poised and practiced like she did this every day. This was an old hand to her, a well-practiced grift not some idea she"d randomly thrown out. He'd assumed she was just winging it, she was a PI not a psychic. At least she was now. Just like he was Mr. Mystery now. But before that, he'd been a lot of other things. And it appeared before being a PI Bill had been other things as well. In that moment he realized that he'd been played, that he'd assumed she'd been bluffing without knowing her tells. She was a con artist just like him, and he should have known. Betting against her was a fools errand, and not just when it came to daytime talk shows. She was his daughter after all, and it seemed some of his talents had passed on.

~*~

Billie sighed as she she leaned against the support of the porch, a cigarette in one hand and a can of Pitt cola in the other. She felt like a whole new person after a hot shower to wash off the ton of bronzer and foundation she’d used to make her pale skin darker. It was nice to be out of that stupid heavy skirt and back in sweats and a t-shirt. Pre-dawn just started to brush the sky above the trees with thin lines of pinks and oranges the trees shadows stretched out like fingers of darkness trying to resist the coming day. It got light so early up here it made her feel like it was later (or earlier) then 3:30 in the morning. It really was beautiful though, like a Rob Boss painting. She had to admit when she’d first rolled into the little Organ town the year before she had found the picture perfect place a bit unsettling. It had been the plan to show up meet Stan and never look back, after all she’d never thought he would want anything to do with his brother’s vagabond daughter. Guess that’s what she got for thinking. It turned out her uncle seemed to want something to do with her after all, and surprisingly she wanted something to do with him.

After her research she had expected to find a cold logical man who had no room for sentimentality. While she knew scientific papers were written specifically lacking any emotion his had seemed extra sterile. Even the forwards to the where normally the researcher had some kind of tone had been devoid of anything to give her a glimpse of personality. But instead she had found a man who was the furthest thing from a cold clinical researcher. He was warm in a gruff kind of way and she liked it. It occurred to her that the time line of his published works ending and the Murder Shack coming into being seemed to overlap with Stanley’s death. Perhaps, the sudden change in profession had also been a sudden change in personality, grief was a powerful thing after all.

Or perhaps he’d simply decided that this strange little corner of the world was too wonderful to waste with his head buried in in books. And it was wonderful. And weird. Over her first few visits she’d began noticing strange shadows and odd movement in the trees. And while she’d written off the little men she’d seen rummaging in the diner’s dumpster and the Moth Man she’d seen batting at a street light outside the hotel one night to tricks of the mind and the local legends getting to her, she’d quickly realized there was something inherently odd to the place. Not bad just odd. But once she’d come down one morning to find Stan luring a walking camp fire out from under the porch with marshmallows she’d realized it wasn’t in her head. Instead she had decided that she rather liked this place, after all she was an odd person so she didn’t feel so out of place. It was like she could breath freely in this strange little town with her eccentric uncle.

Her uncle, that was still a strange thought. Billie had never really had a family, her mother had always been too busy being a drunken whore druggie to be anything else. And while she technically had four older siblings they’d all been to busy finding their own way to survive to bother with anything as trivial as bonding. Hell, after she’d been taken into state custody she hadn’t seen any of them for years, a few she still hadn’t seen even after all these years. It had always been her, she’d learned early to never depend on anyone else. Survival was the end game and others had always been passing acquaintances to her. But for some reason she kept coming back here, kept calling to check in on Stan. Perhaps, it was that he never asked any questions or judged her for smoking and drinking. Or maybe it was that she knew that the tired eyes and world weary voice she had was a mirror of his. Not that it mattered, she had come to really appreciate the time she spent with the old con.

It was a nice change of pace. Most people seemed to think that being a PI was like the movies; chasing down leads, sneaking around to get photos, and all that, but it wasn’t. While sure it had its exciting moments (especially when it came to some of her less than reputable clients) it was a lot of time sitting around and waiting for someone to show up. It was digging through mountains of trash and public records to find a lead. It was asking a lot of questions that never got answered to people who didn’t want to talk to you. Over all it was exhausting in more ways then one. She’d always spent her time between jobs partying or holed up in a hotel room getting stoned and sleeping, but now she found coming here to be a much better past time.

There was always some new creation Stan was working on or some project to help Soos with. She had found walks in the woods were eventful as she seemed to run across odd little creatures and weird rocks no matter what direction she went. Even when it was boring around the Shack she at least had company. And Stan sure made for interesting company. He was always ready to snipe at each other or make stupid bets over anything. Heck, the last two days had been the most fun she’d had in years. She had enjoyed watching the old con slowly realized that this wasn’t her first rodeo, though, she knew she had shown her hand and he wouldn’t fall for it again.

Then again even she was surprised she’d pulled it off. While the gypsy shtick had been something she’d acquired as a teenager the rest had been dumb luck. She was constantly surprised that for such a nowhere town Gravity Falls seemed to have everything. 24 hour copy shop to make the flyer? Yup, Shenkos beside the mall. Party rental shop with a thematically appropriate tent? You bet. Costume shop? Yup. Local teenagers willing to spread rumors and wield social media like a finely honed weapon for $20 bucks? Well, everywhere had those but Wendy was a sweet kid who seemed more then willing to recruit help. It just went to show that helping the kid ditch work a few times had been a good idea. Still, some how it had all come together and she’d been able to back up her cocky words. Even with the expenses she’d pull in over a grand in a weekend beating Stan by a hundred buck and some change.

So she’d won, though, since she had told Stan to keep it since it was his customers to begin with she had basically bought herself two dinners and some expenses but useless bragging rights. In truth, she didn’t need the money, she got paid well for her work and had nothing to spend it one. She didn’t pay rent since she refused to settle, and aside from weekly hotels, food, and smokes she didn’t buy anything really. So she had a huge bank account that she just let sit for when she decided to retire. Plus, she’d liked the idea of helping Stan out, if in no other way then sticking it in Bud’s face. How dare he call Stan a fraud when he sold junk cars at astronomical prices? A small self aware part of her knew that she had done it because she cared about the old man, but she just ignored it.

Shaking her head she snorted, she had to be tired to be getting all introspective and squishy. Feelings weren’t her bag, she’d just done it for fun. At least that was what she told herself. Shifting slightly she groaned, her body felt heavy and her eyes kept trying to close. She was exhausted two days and nights of putting on a show took a lot out of a woman. Not to mention, she’d had to strike the tent after last night’s performance so the rental company could pick it up first thing, and of course she and Stan had sat up counting out their respective earnings. Stad had recounted hers twice growling she’d padded them, before finally admitting defeat. The look on his face had been worth it.

“Alright kid, how’d you do it?” came a gruff voice and the smell of cigar smoke pulling her eyes from the trees. Looking over at him she flashed a smile earning a half hearted scowl in response and a dismissive grunt, “Come on out with it. It’s only fair I know how I got beat.” Smirking she let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“It’s called cold reading,” she told him causing one of his eyebrows to shoot up in question, “You size up a crowd; age, clothes, general stuff you know. Then you throw out a line; something vague enough to not be a definitive statement but specific enough to be convincing. One you get a bite you reel them in, double talk so they tell you everything but it seems like you told it to them and bam you talked to their dead aunt,” she explained as she took a drink.

“Sounds like it would be easier to actually talk to the dead,” he grumbled, “Yur Grandmother would be proud. So where on earth did you learn to pull that off? It doesn’t seem like somethin’ you’d learn for a party trick,” he observed as he took a long puff off his cigar groaning as he settled back on the couch. Shrugging she sighed as she moved over to sit next to him staring out at the dark woods tucking one leg under her.

“When I was round about 16 I ran off from the group home. I was tired of being passed around homes like a fruit cake at Christmas yuh know. So I landed at a traveling fair after a while and met the Amazin’ Jezabel. She pulled the same gimmick and taught me how since my weird hand gav’ ah bit of a witchy vibe. I traveled with them for a year or two, ‘fore getting sick of making her a ton of money and gettin’ hog spit in return. I went out on my own and was good at it,” she told him cracking her neck  a touch of melancholy settling over her as she recalled the days she spent running the con at fairs all over the south, “I probably could have gone on with it, got one of those shows on TV, but after a while people started coming to me looking for real answers. Sure, stuff like this weekend is fine. Tellin’ people that their grandma loves them or their dog is always hangin’ around them don’t hurt nothin’ It makes them happy, but when you have people comin’ to yuh lookin’ for their missing kid offering their life’s savin’s for answers it changes the game. I couldn’t bring mah’self ta lie to them. I didn’t want to give ‘em false hope so I quit. I was tryin’ to feed myself not cheat desperate people, yuh know?” she finished before calming up. She hadn’t needed to say all that, and it kinda broke the unspoken agreement they had to avoid anything too honest about themselves.

Glancing over she expected to find him either half listening to her ramble on or looking at her with the inscrutable look of mild disappointment he got when she came in half cocked with a split lip from brawling with the guys at the Skull Fracture. Instead his brows were furrowed and the corner of his lips pulled down in a half frown. It wasn’t that he looked disgusted at her words more…saddened by them. For a long moment they just stared at each other before he looked away taking a drink of his own soda.

“What?” she asked finally ignoring the slight feeling of insecurity that his silence had brought on.

“Nothin’. I was just thinking about your Dad,” he said his voice slightly rougher then normal, “That’s impressive though. You got any other tricks up your sleeve?”

“Naw, nothing worth noting,” she said as she looked away from him resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and leaning her head on it. For a moment they were silent, sitting there smoking before her eyes slid over to him again.

“What about him?” she asked unable to stop herself. While she excepted that Stanley was gone, and he seemed to be a subject Stanford didn’t seem keen on she couldn’t help but wonder about Stanley. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes knowing what she was asking at once. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to answer before he shrugged.

“Nothin’ really. Just that you’re a lot like him. He may have been a cheat and a liar but he never preyed on desperate people. He’d probably be proud of you for that,” he said as Billie barely suppressed the pleased smile that threatened to surface at his words, “Though if he’d have known about you’d you could bet you wouldn’t have even been in a position to have to decided who were acceptable marks,” he added under his breath like he was speaking to himself not her. Smiling she looked back out at the trees.

“Yeah well if that were the case I wouldn’t have been able to get some free meals and braggin’ right now would I?” she chuckled to break the heavy silence that had settled on them and she saw his lips twitch from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, yeah live it up kid. You cheated and you know it. That was dirty trick, I wouldn’t have made that bet if I’d have know you were a professional psychic,” he grumbled and she chuckled as she finished her drink and stood stretching.

“I’m goin’ ta bed. I’m beat,” she announced with a small yawn, “You should get some sleep too, Stan yuh look like hell,” she added glancing down at him causing him to chuckle.

“You ain’t the boss ah me kid,” he grumbled as she couldn’t help the stern look that crossed her face causing him to laugh, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll finish then and head to bed,” he assured her waving his hand at her. Smiling she yawned again as she headed in.

“Night Stanford.”

“Night Billie.”

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU! “Playthings” Part 5

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

Thor swiped through his phone idly. They were finally making their way back to New York after the week away. Grandmaster was beside him in the back seat of the town car, also on his phone, speaking quietly to a business associate. Which business, legal or otherwise, he really didn’t care. He was being ignored for the time being; a thrilling and devastating respite from the man’s near constant attention over the week.

He thumbed through his gallery once more, stopping on a picture of Loki he had taken a few months ago. Unlike the numerous ‘fun’ photos he had of his brother, where the younger man smiled or posed or sent the camera a funny face, this picture was quiet. He probably didn’t know it had been taken. He was sitting in their private room in one of numerous hotels they called home. He was at the window, the evening light pouring in behind him as he read. No Grandmaster or his entourage peeping just barely within frame. No opulent sign of wealth. One could hardly tell it was in hotel at all. In this picture, his brother was freer than he had been in the last ten years. It took all Thor’s strength not to kiss the treasured picture.

Gast was concluding his phone call. Thor quickly switched albums on his phone to screenshots of items he ‘wanted’. He was supposed to be one of a pair of dumb sugar babies most of the time, after all. ‘His bimbo,’ as Grandmaster liked to cheekily remind him. ‘My spoiled little Princesses.’

“At least ‘the shipment’ is coming in on time. 'The batch’ is going to be delayed another three days because, I dunno!” Gast threw his head back dramatically as he put away his phone. “I give clear instructions and I am just surrounded by…” he drifted off. He did this often, when inconveniences happen. He would forget about it seemingly, never bring it up again. Until inconvenience led to incompetence.

He leaned over and put his head on Thor’s shoulder, glancing at his phone. “Whatcha looking at?” It was said flirtatiously, a hand once again creeping to his thigh.

Thor showed him the VR headset and controller he had saved. He made his eyes as wide and clueless as possible. “It’s only 199.”

“For everything? All the bits and bobs?”

He shrugged.

“Hmm, I could get you that, if you wanted. Or, or I could take you boys to the Caribbean again.”

“I think we’d prefer Disneyworld.” It was veiled sarcasm, but anything would be better than being in New York.

[read more cut]

“Well, maybe if my boys are good…,” he shrugged. They would probably get both, and the trip to the Caribbean so Gast could do his offshore banking. He doted on them when business was good, mostly to spend some of over accumulating wealth. Don’t want the IRS sniffing around.

When they finally made it back to the Gladiator Hotel, the doorman greeted Gast with his customary jolly manner. As always, the Grandmaster told him a joke and slipped him a twenty as he held his sides with laughter. The doorman spared not a glance at Thor. Even when Thor left on morning runs or to perform some errand, he barely seemed to register he existed. He was just 'one of the boys’.

The penthouse as always was already full of people. The usual group; the top Lieutenants and a few of their mistresses, a few people hoping to get some sort of favor, and of course the penthouse crew. Bodyguards and delivery men that practically lived on site. Most did. Who wouldn’t want to live in a penthouse? Or even under one?

“The gang’s all here!” Gast called. Everyone greeted him warmly and with loud cheers. A few of penthouse crew were on one of the numerous game consoles 'the boys’ owned. They waved and called like the rest but continued to play. Thor felt a strange possessive need to rip the controller out of their hands. That was his and Loki’s! It was a gift! A gift for…

For being good.

He settled in on one of the chairs at the drink bar that was along the opposite wall and tried to ignore the sound of gameplay.

“It’s good to be home!” Gast smiled as one of the women in the room pressed a drink into his hand. Then he frowned. “Something’s not right.”

Everyone went tense. They didn’t move a single muscle. They barely moved their eyes.

“Where’s Lo Lo?”

Thor’s mind snapped to attention. He began to look around the room. By now, Loki would have come out from their private room. No matter how beaten, no matter how scared, he would have come. He would play his part, leaping into the Grandmaster’s arms, asking if he had been brought a treat. Sometimes he would shyly walk out of the room, needing to be tugged into the embrace. Other times, when Loki was feeling bold, he would walk out wearing one of the numerous 'outfits’ that they had. Costumes that either left little to the imagination or clothing from Thor and the Grandmaster’s closet.

But Loki was not here. He quickly glanced at Gast. Gast had a bemused look of puzzlement on his face. Clearly, Loki not being here was not part of the 'punishment’. He tried not to leap up and pace or show any visible sign of distress, but his capacity to hide such things was nonexistent now. Immediately, Gast caught him beginning to panic. Quickly, as though he was comforting Thor (but it was comforting, wasn’t it?) he pulled the young man into his embrace.

“My Lo Lo better come soon. My Sparkle is loskng his shine,” he tutted, his voice an exaggerated tender parody.

Thor snorted pathetically, curling into his Grandmaster for comfort. He always knew what to say.

“Well? He was your responsibility?” This was directed at Mario, one of the lieutenants and head of the penthouse crew. “What happened?”

“Well we were going to give him the works, like you wanted,” Mario said nervously. “Then we got a call about 'The Batch’ and I went to deal with that for you best I could. So we wouldn’t be delayed a month on that.”

“And?”

“So I left the kid with Tommy,” he motioned to the couch to one of the men playing games. Tommy was fairly new to the penthouse crew and he was, to put it mildly, an idiot. He was a jumped-up relative of someone, and like anyone in a position because of nepotism, he had a certain attitude of invulnerability. He was still playing the game, ignoring all the attention in the room shifting to him.

Gast moved quietly to stand behind Tommy. He watched the screen and the flashing lights of the game. His face was calm. He even smiled slightly. “Tommy, um Tommy.”

Tommy didn’t pause the game but threw a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“You took care of Loki for Mario?”

“The brat? Yeah, we roughed him up. Like yah said. Gave him the dock side special!” He laughed and elbowed one of his companions. The companion was catching on to what was happening and did not laugh back.

Thor began to advance on the man, seeing red. Loki wasn’t some nosy harbor agent or business owner who was late with his protection money. He didn’t deserve…

The Grandmaster put out a hand to stop him. “So after that. After you gave him this dock side special.”

“We went out for a bit I think. Dunno. Smoked a few bowls.” There was a shrug as he continued to play.

“We went to the hospital,” one of the other men said.

“Oh yeah! Fucking brat was moaning and not moving. Did a roll stop at Mercy.”

The room began to tilt. Thor stumbled back. It had been years since either of them had been beaten so badly to warrent the hospital. Gast had become more cautious and they had become more obedient. Usually though, they were back within in a few days. Hospital officials could be bought off to release patients early and their many a doctor who would be willing to treat them here in the penthouse. There would be only two reasons why Loki wasn’t here then.

“So, he’s dead?” It was asked casually, like he was asking if someone had a nice weekend. Likw Loki’s existence was nothing more than just a simple matter, like a chore off the list.

“I dunno!” Tommy continued to play the game.

“You didn’t go to the hospital to check?”

“Fuck, that ain’t my job!”

“Actually, that is.” The television was turned off. The man was suddenly keenly aware of the danger he was in. Tommy was dragged quickly from his seat by Mario and several of the other penthouse crew members. They quickly gagged the man and frog marched him to the maid’s elevator, the way to the basement and scene of operations.

Gast rubbed his face and pulled at his lips. “Well I-I can’t say that doesn’t change a few things.”

Mario had returned. “Grandmaster I’m sorry. He’s Lenny’s boy-”

“I know.”

“His Mother is going to want to at least bury him. She’s a proper broad. But I can talk to her if you want.”

“No it’s fine. Keep him alive and intact until I hear back from the hospital. Call Lenny. He has other kids?”

“He’s Catholic, so yeah.”

“Well, one less son is nothing to fret over. Someone fetch me Topaz.” He finally turned back to Thor. Thor knew better than to leave before being dismissed. “Poor Lo Lo, isn’t that right my love?”

“I-I want to go to the hospital to find him.”

“No, no! I want you here. Here at home. Right where I know you’re safe.”

He wanted to shake his head and ask again. He wanted to run at the man to either tear him limb from limb or to plead on his knees. He felt fear that Loki was gone, that he was truly alone now. That it was just him, the Grandmaster, and a memory he had no one to share it with. But there was a thrill of hope.

Loki could be free…one way or another….

“May I go to my room?” To be alone. To mourn, to pray, to rage, to laugh, to scream….

“For a few hours. Then we’re going to go talk to Tommy.”

Thor nodded and left. If there was silver lining to all this, it would be one of the few times he got to kill someone who had hurt his younger brother.

[soyapril89-blog]

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Harry Potter and the House-Elf

This is the second story for The Boy Who Left. However, it doesn’t follow the first story, Harry Potter and the Trunk. This isn’t a true series but a collection of unconnected stories working from the same base “what if Harry were to leave?”.

Oh, and I solemnly swear I don’t own a thing. (Except for a very confused set of books.)

Harry Potter and the House-Elf / The Boy Who Left - Year Two

Harry laid down on the bed, face smushed into his pathetic pillow, and took stock of the situation. It had been three days since the catastrophic dinner where Dobby the elf had gotten him into trouble, and there was no sign of the Dursleys getting over their fury.

Locked up in his room Harry was forced to admit just how much the Dursleys hated him. He’d always known they didn’t love him, or even like him, but he’d shied away from using the word “hate” to describe their feelings. That was no longer an option though.

They’d told him repeatedly how he’d been forced on them, and they’d made sure he knew their lives would have been better without him in it. Once he’d gotten old enough to fully comprehend how awful people could be he’d felt strangely grateful that uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia hadn’t decided to get rid of him in some awful way, and tried to do even better as a thank you. Deep down he’d suspected it had nothing to do with him, and more with them being too afraid of what the neighbours would say should Harry just disappear. He hadn’t allowed himself to admit that to himself, though, not really.

But now? Now they had the option to send him off to Hogwarts, keep telling the neighbours whatever tale they’d spun, and be rid of him for most of the year. And they had chosen not to.

Making him miserable was apparently more important than being free of him.

And Harry was certain that it was about him being miserable. They weren’t going to keep him because they missed having someone to do the chores, not with him being locked up 24/7. No. They were going to keep him from going back to Hogwarts because going back would make him happy. Because they had the power to do it.

In fact, Harry finally admitted to himself, even if someone from Hogwarts came to collect him when he didn’t show up on the express he probably still wouldn’t be going back. The Dursleys were his guardians, and that meant that regardless of Hagrid’s talk last year about muggles not stopping James and Lily’s son from going they could.

They won’t come after me if I get there though, they wouldn’t even if they could. Not when it would mean mixing with wizards and witches. All I need to do is get out of this room.

And the he deflated again. Because maybe “all” he needed was to get out of a room, but there was no way he’d be able to do so without magic. Magic for which he needed his wand, which was still locked up in his old cupboard. Oh, he’d been able to perform some magic without one, but not on command. Besides, if he made it work? He’d be expelled. Which still meant no Hogwarts. Oh, anywhere would be better than here, just, he didn’t have any money to live on, not with his Gringotts’ key who-knew-where.

“Maybe I should have taken Dobby up on his offer,” Harry muttered into his pillow. At least then he wouldn’t have been locked up.

There was a sudden pop, and when Harry looked up there the house-elf was.

“Harry Potter, sir, called for Dobby?”

I absolutely did not! ran through Harry’s head, but at the last minute he bit down on the words. This could be his way out. He just needed some help.

“I was thinking about what you said about me not going back to Hogwarts. Do you still think I won’t be safe there?”

He listened to Dobby’s stammering words, and watched as the elf nodded and pulled his ears. Apparently the elf was still convinced Harry wouldn’t be safe at school.

“Well, I would be willing to do as you wish, in return for a favour. If you can get me my Gringotts’ key, and get me and my belongings to the bank, then I’ll do it.”

Harry still hadn't gotten used to magic and all it could do, and so he felt awe at how two snaps of Dobby's spindly fingers had all of Harry's belongings packed at his feet – including the things hidden or locked away – and Harry himself looking clean and proper. A third snap transported Harry to a small alley right next to Gringotts, leaving him feeling more than a little dizzy. Dobby himself was nowhere to be found, which was probably understandable under the circumstances. Chances were that Dobby's family would never think to ask if their house-elf had helped Harry Potter run away, but that only worked if no one saw them together.

More importantly though, what was there was Harry's (or so he assumed) vault key.

Gathering all of his courage Harry grabbed his trunk (which felt suspiciously light for some reason) and got going.

Fifteen minutes later he found himself in a small office at the back of the bank, scrambling for the right words and the right attitude to go with them, hoping that the goblin staring at him would take mercy on him.

“...and so I was hoping you'd be able to help me buy a home,” adding, in a flash of inspiration, “or maybe my parents left me one?”

The goblin kept looking impatiently at him for what felt like forever before answering.

“The bank itself doesn't offer such services. We can however put you in touch with a trustworthy firm that does – for a fee, of course – should you wish to spend your trust vault on this. As for the house your parents owned, I am sorry, Mr Potter, but it is not available to you. Nor is the property left to you by your godfather, due to legalities.

“The truth is that wizards rarely consider the possibility of a child or young adult needing access to their inheritance while not yet having reached their majority. Not even two wars in less than 50 years made them realise that their century-and-a-half-long lifespan is not guaranteed.”

Harry sighed in agreement, because while he didn't know the ins and outs of the wizarding world that well, everything he did know pointed to that being true. He was just about to ask the goblin to put him in contact with the realtor – or whatever the goblins called people performing those duties – when a warning bell went off. He paused, and started going over what the goblin had said, what words they'd used and even which words they'd emphasised. The puzzle pieces started falling into place, and Harry looked at the goblin appraisingly.

“You've told me what I can't use. Now, is there any properties I can?”

The goblin smiled, which honestly wasn't an entirely pleasant sight, and pulled a folder from a drawer.

“I think I just might have the thing...”

It was a little to late, and too long a story, but it boiled down to 6th year prefect, and later Head Girl, Lily Evans having been nice to a firstie, taking the homesick boy under her wing.

That kindness had been repaid when that same wizard had passed away only weeks prior due to illness and left all of his belongings to Lily's child.

Said belongings amounted to a vault with a small amount of gold in it, a cottage and a house-elf. Harry really wasn't sure about the house-elf. Not after Dobby.

“The grounds are unplottable, and is protected by a Fidelius charm with the house-elf Posey as secret keeper. You will be left alone there, Mr Potter.”

Which...sounded nice. And like he was stuck with the house-elf. Oh well. Maybe then I won't have to do all the cooking.

O---o--o---O

Harry's first impression of his new home was being put into a soft warm bed by a pushy house-elf who'd changed him into pyjamas with a snap of her fingers. He slept better than he'd done since leaving Hogwarts.

His second impression contained a breakfast fit for a prince. The third showed him a small but cosy cottage, with a small library – consisting of both muggle and wizarding books, and with must be seven years worth of Hogwarts' books. Hermione would approve, Harry thinks. Outside there was a lush garden filled with growing things, with chickens walking around freely and a couple of beehives in a corner. They produced, Posey told him proudly, most of their own food.

It was, Harry soon decided, a perfect hideaway. It wasn't big, no, nor was it what most would deem luxurious. There would be still bushes to prune, food to cook and chores to do, just like on Privet Drive. But the food would be for him and Posey, not for his fat cousin and uncle. The bushes would be pruned to be healthy and produce berries, not so aunt Petunia could lord it over the neighbours. The chores would be to take care of himself and his home.

It was safe, and it was just big enough for a boy, his owl and a house-elf. It was going to be a home.

To Harry that was true luxury.

(In time it would also be big enough for a dogfather and a sometimes-furry almost-godfather, making it even more a home. But that's another story.)

~The End ~

[kayluh1915]

The POSSIBLE Real Reason why Anthony Left S*osh + Why Ian is Seemingly Out of Anthony’s New Picture.

You guys have been waiting for this for a LONG time, so I’m not going to waste another second getting into it! Get ready, y’all! It’s theory time!

DISCLAIMER: 

THIS IS NOT MEANT TO PROVE ANYTHING! This is just a series of speculations and theories that is not intended to be taken as a fact. Everything in this could be 100% wrong for all I know, so please take this info with a grain of salt and DO NOT spread it around as a fact. As always, you’re free to disagree and have conflicting opinions, but don’t be a dick! Please and thank you!

Also, this is very long. I would apologise, but I’m WEEYYY too proud of this to apologise. xD Enjoy!

So, before we get started, I’m going to mention what Anthony stated in his livestream Friday night. Someone asked a question about S*osh and Anthony didn’t really say much, but what he did say was very interesting nonetheless.

“Later on, I may talk about other reasons why I left that I didn’t mention in my video, but that’s all I’m going to say about that now.”

Which is cold cut proof that he didn’t tell the full story in his DEPARTURE VIDEO. Even before that, however, we was able to see evidence that this was so. How? Well one example is at 2:35 of his video, Anthony says:

“I need to do be doing what makes me happiest to wake up each morning. Right now that’s for me to do things on my own again with complete creative freedom.”

Which is fine. When he posted this, it made complete sense... but then only FOUR days later, he was in a INTERVIEW with the Instant podcast called “Hey Guys” and was asked at 29:47 what else he would like to do with all the new freedom he had. His response was:

“It’s overwhelming in the best way ever. Of course I’ll be doing my channel, two videos a week, then I fell in love with voice acting when I voiced a character in the Angry Birds movie so I’d like to do more of that if I can. I also wanna try some traditional acting. I’m writing a TV show pilot that I’ve kind of put on the back burner for now while launching my new channel, but I’m really excited about that.

I’m paraphrasing him a little bit, but you can watch the video for the full quote.

Ummm... Didn’t he just say that he left so he could do things on his own with creative freedom not even five days ago? I mean, it was nothing major but it definitely raised a flag for me. If all he wanted was creative freedom and to do things on his own, then why was he willing to work for OTHER companies to voice act or produce his own TV show that I am MORE than sure are more creatively strangling than Smosh ever was. To me, it just didn’t add up. Not to mention that he would be working with a LARGE group of artists, writers, directors, set designers, etc. So that was the first thing that made me suspicious about what he was telling us. There are other reasons as well like him getting a cameraman and trying to establish a cast not even after a year he said he wanted to work alone, but I’m not going to spend anymore time on this because I have a lot more to cover.

So, if creative freedom isn’t the whole story... then what’s the rest of it? While there are no clear cut answers at this time, I do think I have a reason.

I don’t think that Anthony lied. I definitely believe that creative freedom was part of the reason, but it’s not the main reason. The main reason for Anthony leaving is because of the company and the higher ups.

Think about this for a moment. Anthony said that he kept staying with S*osh because he was hoping that eventually it would feel like the good old days with just him, Ian, and a camrea. Once he realised that it would never be that way again, I think he may have tried to change it back to that. Not exactly like how it used to be, but just a little bit of a change. It is also worth mentioning that according to THIS ARTICLE, Barry Blumberg who made Ian and Anthony into the icons they are today, left Defy only three months before Anthony announced his own departure. They company says that the two moves are unrelated, but are they really? Is it possible that Barry was willing to work with Anthony’s desires but were all of a sudden pushed aside by the new Chief Content Officer? What if the new chief told Anthony that what he wanted was not best for the brand. It wasn’t in the best interest for S*osh, so his desires to get back to how things were was just pushed aside and muted with more cast members. This, my peeps, is what I believe pushed Anthony out of the company.

Need more proof? Look at Anthony’s content. Most of his stuff could have been done with the S*osh brand and even I argue that some of the plot in his videos are straight from former S*osh plots. He could have easily done what he’s doing- and even the things that he wants to do like voice acting- could’ve been done from within the company, but why didn’t he? Because the new chair didn’t approve of Anthony’s ideas. If it wasn’t the new chair, then you can also argue that maybe the CEO didn’t want it to happen. According to THIS ARTICLE, Matt Diamond seems to be more concerned about the monetization of the content than the actual content itself. If the CEO saw Anthony’s move towards the older days as a threat to the money his and Ian’s brand would bring him, then I believe he would have no problems with shutting down his ideas with more cast members or cheesy shows that doesn’t even belong on a sketch comedy channel. Also, in THIS VIDEO, Ian mentioned that he felt like Anthony’s departure was coming and that it wasn’t that shocking when he told him which means that Ian knew that something was going on.

The other reason why I feel like it’s a higher up issue is because a month or so later, Lasercorn and Sohinki left S*osh Games. The company suddenly began losing members. Why? Because the company isn’t focused on the content, but on the money the content is making. I could be completely wrong about all of this and the real reason could be something totally different, but at the moment this is what I think really pushed Anthony away. I do believe that there were also a lot of other things that happened, but I believe that it is the higher ups that put the cherry on top.

Okay, so what about Ian and Anthony? Are they still friends and if so, why don’t Ian collab with Anthony or vice versa? Well, I believe I may have an answer for the worst Ianthony drought in history.

YES Ian and Anthony are still friends as I’ve already mentioned HERE. So if they are, where’s Ian in Anthony’s content. Well, what if Anthony couldn’t leave unless he agreed to a couple of obligations? What if Defy made him sign a contract? It would allow him to mention the brand name, but he would not be allowed to promote it, use the brand in his own content, or have any creative say so... what if that includes Ian? Like obviously he would be able to mention Ian, but what if Ian CAN’T be in his videos because it is part of the contract he signed when he left? If it is true that Ian is included with the brand contract, then that would explain why Ian isn’t in any of Anthony’s videos and it would also explain that seemingly harsh and out of the blue TWEET he made four days after leaving.

He was legally forced to disconnect himself from the company and the brand completely which could also prevent Ian showing up in his videos. Ian is technically a part of the Smosh brand, after all. We know it isn’t Ian’s side of the contract either. We know this because while Anthony was signed on with S*osh, they collabed with MANY other YouTubers who mentioned the brand with no problems. So, why wouldn’t Ian be able to collab with Anthony? Because he signed a departure contract that forbids him from doing so. For how long? No one knows, but I have a feeling that it will expire eventually. The quote from his livestream I mentioned at the start of this theory stated that he may talk about what really happened later. Why not now? Because the contract he signed is forbiddening him from doing so until the legal binding is lifted. 

Again, I could be 100% wrong! This could all just be crazy talk for all i know! I mean, what kind of company would place legal obligations on an employee just because they want to le-

TWEET HERE

Oh...............................

But hey. That’s just a theory...

AN ANTHONY THEORY!

Thanks for reading (pls don’t sue me MatPat)!

[rejectedbyeharmony]

Bryan Paul, Semi-Pro BMXer

The summer after I graduated high school, I got the opportunity to spend some time in Europe with a few of my classmates and my favorite art teacher. We spent weeks looking at art, taking in the culture (read: legally drinking), and saying a farewell to each other before we all went off to college. I wasn’t focused on meeting anyone that summer, I was happy enjoying my last few glory days before college started, and I had to make a whole new set of friends.

I was accepted to George Mason University, which is a great fine arts program. But, my parents lived 25 minutes away, so I commuted to school. My freshman year, I didn’t really get the college experience. I would hang out in friends dorms, but I didn’t really get a chance to make many friends, as I was taking a full load of classes and was dating someone who didn’t go to our school. That guy is irrelevant to this story.

I found myself slipping into old social habits, including hanging out at the mall a lot with friends. Part of that experience was walking laps around Vans Skate Park, at the end of the mall. My girlfriends and I would go in and look at shoes, and pretend to be interested in the skateboards. But we were mostly interested in the skaters. We would stand on the chain-link fence and watch them do tricks, sometimes they’d come over and talk to us. Any girl who grew up in Woodbridge in the late nineties, spent her share of hours watching and flirting with these incredibly talented, hot guys. It was pretty much the highlight of every week.

Wednesday was bike night, when the BMX riders would come in and hit the pipes and bowls on their bikes. I loved going and watching them, because the skill level was significantly higher than most of the skateboarders, and it was pretty much like watching your own X-games at your local mall.

One fateful Wednesday I caught the eye of a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed guy. I didn’t know who he was, but from the way the staff treated him, he must have been important. He was really talented and had a great smile. I kept hanging around where he was and eventually he talked to me. His name was Bryan. And he was hot as fuck. I don’t even remember what we talked about but ended up hanging out that night, having dinner and talking for hours. And then the next day, he called me. He wanted to know what I was doing that night, and if I wanted to go on an adventure. This is still probably the most romantic thing any man has ever asked me, to this day.

So we met up, and he took me to the neighborhood where he grew up. It wasn’t far from where I grew up, and I spent some time playing in this neighborhood as a kid too, so it bonded us. He showed me this tiny pet cemetery in the woods and we shared a mutual creepy shiver when we discovered it. We laughed and made out, and had an incredible time together.

Needless to say, I was completely smitten. I knew he was older than me, but I couldn’t really tell how old. I was only 18 and I had no concept of discerning men’s age yet. I was sure he knew I was younger, but he never asked how much younger. So we kept dating, blissfully ignorant of each other’s ages, but just happy to spend time together.

He lived pretty far south of me, closer to Richmond. He was always willing to come up and see me, but one day suggested that I come down his way. We met and he took me to Richmond. I had never been there before, but a lot of the kids I went to high school with ended up moving there and loved it. He showed me around all the cool neighborhoods and I fell in love with Carytown. I thought it was so cool that he would take me there, and I fell head over heels for this guy.

We dated through the end of my first semester in college, when he announced to me that he had to move to South Carolina. He was getting laid off from his job, and he was going to go work for his dad in Charleston. My heart took a huge leap and I told him I was going to go with him. He encouraged me to stay and finish school, but I needed to be with him. I told my parents that I was going to take a semester off and follow my heart, and they were understandably livid. I wasn’t working at the time, and I had no money. So I was completely financially reliant on them. They paid my car bill, my insurance, and gave me an allowance for gas and food to get to school. I told them that I didn’t want any of that and I just wanted Bryan.

My parents told me if I dropped out of school, they would take my car away. They also threatened that if I left school, they would no longer be responsible for paying on my student loans. I didn’t believe them, I knew they were all just empty threats… Or so I thought. But I also had a car and no money and I needed to get out of town before they could take it away from me.

So I stole the car, I drove out to Warrenton where my grandma lived and I asked her for money. I don’t remember how much she gave me, but I do remember her crying when she wrote me the check. She begged me not to go, but I told her it was something I needed to do. So I got in my Saturn and drove it to Charleston.

Bryan had given me an address, and I called to tell him I was coming. At the time I had a pretty basic Nokia brick phone. There was no text messaging, just calls, so I really had to rely on him answering. He didn’t answer my call until I was crossing the North Carolina/South Carolina border. I remember looking up at the exit for South of the Border, and when I looked down and saw that he was calling me back. I gleefully told him where I was, and it stung when he sounded stunned that I was actually coming. I asked “do you want me there?” And he said “of course. You’ll be here late, but just call me when you get here and I’ll come down and let you in.”

When I drove up to the house in Charleston, I was so nervous that i forgot to call him. Walking up, I could tell it was his parents house, so I expected to see them. I hoped that he told them that I was coming, and I wouldn’t be an unwelcome guest. But I didn’t expect to see two small pink bikes with streamers thrown down on the sidewalk in front of the house. There were children living here.

I sucked in my breath as I knocked on the door and Bryan’s mom answered. She gave me half a smile and welcomed me into her home. She apologized for not having the guestroom ready, and explained that Bryan forgot to tell them that I was coming. I was mortified, I immediately felt like I was making a terrible decision, but I just needed to spend the time with him to know that things could be right.

Then he came down and hugged me, and quickly ushered me up to his room. I stood there awkwardly and asked “should I not sleep in your room with you?” He said, “No it’s fine.” And we crawled into bed and I told him all about my trip down. At some point during our conversation I mentioned something about dropping out of college during my first semester. He stopped me and asked, “wait how old are you?”

Here we go. I remember looking back at him with big eyes, for the first time realizing that we had never had that conversation. I said “I’m 18,” then reassured him, “I’ll be 19 in May.” And his face turned green. He said angrily, “do you have any idea how old I am?” I didnt... so I guessed 25. I didn’t know anyone older than 25 that I didn’t consider a ‘real adult’. He laughed and closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and then he all at once wide-eyed looked at me and said “Fuck, Katie. I’m 32.”

I didn’t know how to react to that and I think I didn’t say anything. But he was clearly fretting over it. He laid back on the pillow and closed his eyes, and sighed “Let’s just go to bed.” We didn’t have sex that night, and I couldn’t sleep anyway. I just laid there awkwardly cuddling with him, worried about the bikes and the parents and what the fuck was I doing.

I think I dozed off around four and woke up with the sun. He was already up and out of bed. I cursed him for leaving me in that room by myself, but was grateful to discover there was an adjoining bathroom with a shower. So I pulled some clean clothes out of my bag and went into the bathroom and ugly cried in the shower trying to decide what I was going to do. Would I just hide in the room until he came and got me? Should I walk downstairs and see if everyone’s waiting for me at the breakfast table? I was so confused and a ball of anxiety.

As I finished my shower and I got a towel, I heard two tiny voices in the bedroom. They’re were little girls in there. My heart sank as the reality sunk in: Bryan had children. I kept hoping that maybe they were his nieces or just some neighborhood kids, and I searched back through my memories to try to recall whether he had ever told me he had children. But all I could remember was never telling each other any intimate details about our lives. I mean, Jesus Christ, neither of us knew how old the other one was.

Yes I realize how stupid this is, I gave up my entire life to move to another state with someone who wasn’t even expecting me, who I knew nothing about. I see that now. And I felt it then, but I was too young and naïve to understand the gravity of the situation.

I got dressed and walked out into the bedroom to find Bryan in there with two beautiful little girls playing video games they both looked up confused that I was there. He clearly hadn’t even primed them for the woman that would be walking out of the bathroom. I use the phrase woman lightly, because I was not. I was all of 18, and I barely had any relationship experience, and here I was faced with a man, much older than me… With two little girls.

I’ve always been pretty good with kids, so I stood on that confidence, and sat down on the floor with them. They flooded me with questions “What’s your name? When did you get here? How do you know daddy? I like your hair. What’s that? (pointing to a tattoo) Oh, did that hurt? Do you want to go outside and play?”

I felt relieved by that last question and happily agreed to go outside and play with the girls. I looked to Bryan for some acknowledgment, he just smiled and said he would come outside a little later. We were outside for what felt like hours, until his mom called us in for lunch. Bryan never came outside to play with us and never gave me an opportunity to talk to him about what we were doing here. But when I walked inside, I saw my bag packed at the top of the stairs. He was leaving me a not-so-subtle clue that he wanted me to leave.

So I politely finished lunch with his family and walked upstairs to grab my bag. I made an excuse about having to visit some friends in town, thanked his parents for their hospitality, and said my goodbyes. He followed me out to my car and tried to apologize, but I was heartbroken and the damage had been done.

I loaded Incubus “Morning View” into my CD player, and watched him in the rear view as i pulled away and made the long trek back to Northern Virginia. I didn’t go home that night, I drove onto campus and stayed with a friend who knew where I was going that weekend. I called her on the way back and she could just hear me quietly weeping on the other end and she said “hey, just come to my dorm”. At this point I had already disenrolled from school, and it was too late for me to sign up for the next semester of classes. So I waited a few days hiding out in Jessie’s dorm until my sister called, asking if I was ok. She said everyone was worried about me, and I confessed that things didn’t work out. Then, I finally went home to my parents house. To my moms credit, she never gave me shit, she just welcomed me back in with open arms and to this day we’ve never really spoken about it.

It’s been 17 years now, but I still think about him all the time. I’ve even looked for him on social media, but he was never really much of a Facebook kinda guy. I never knew the whole story about his kids mother, or his past. But sometimes, I’ll see someone who vaguely looks like him, and my heart misses him as much as it did that day I left.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 72

The monumental 2008 election was upon everyone's mind in the small town of Pinehurst while I was visiting my grandmother. Somehow, I just hadn't noticed there was going to be an election – I was too wrapped up in my books, my collage art, my old horror films and television shows, and my interest in various religions. Of course, my grandma and my uncles and aunts up north all were McCain hopefuls. I have never met anyone from a small town that far north who weren't on the embarrassingly far right on just about every issue. My grandma was still upset about hippies shirking Viet Nam like it had happened yesterday. I pretended to agree with whatever people said – it's how I survived and maintained some kind of life for myself relying as I did on the charity of others, but the truth is I had no idea what to believe. I was often times told something terrible would happen in response to a left wing policy being passed, and I really didn't know. My head was a jumble of complex philosophical criticism of society on the whole, but I also had been misinformed politically for so many years when I was younger that I had abstained from listening to anyone about anything. I couldn't just 'pick a party', though my grandma's always had Fox News on, and as nonpolitical as I thought I was, I sometimes wanted to reach through the television and throttle the television personalities for their callous view of the poor, their subversive racist ideals, and their focus on none issues and fear mongering. In fact the only things I was certain about were now putting me to the left, legalizing gay marriage, legalizing weed, ending the war in the middle east, ending the death sentence and not bailing out the banks.

I didn't understand healthcare, but I was told Obamacare was essentially the end of my existence as I knew it – which given my life up to that point I questioned if that would be such a bad thing really. The current system was confirmably insufficient though too. For instance, had my father paid for me to finally get confirmed for having PCOS, I would have had to take medication that insurance companies could and would bar me from ever being able to be on their insurance for having a preexisting condition. So as far as I could tell, the system that had currently been in place had in it's own way, low key let me know that my health was not in consideration, and I was not really a member of society that anyone should care about. Maybe it would be better for the system if I just died, preventing future misery to myself and the taxpayers. I didn't ever say anything about it openly, but I had contempt for the current healthcare system, what little I understood, so Obamacare didn't scare me, and actually made me a little more hopeful about the prospects of maybe getting the healthcare I needed.

This was also a turning point for my grandma and members of my family to begin embracing the absurd. I think something really mentally unstable was happening to the right. This isn't to say that there was never something deeply troubling about that rhetoric, but there was this weird desperation, like they were losing their country and a tree was no longer just a tree. There was no agree to disagree, and most of the right wing folk I knew where elderly, or very bitter and the ideas of Alex Jones and many others were beginning to reach them. And that fear was becoming something. Everyone was raving about Barack Obama being a Muslim, being born in Africa, and even more insane theories. My grandma told me that Obama was going to make everyone over seventy-five go into death camps that he had already started paying the Chinese military to come over here and build.  And then at times, the same people who accused Barack Obama of being a Muslim would also say he was an atheist commy. I couldn't see how a person could both be in support of Sharia law and simultaneously be an atheist communist of the Stalin variety. I didn't understand how you could be both, as there seemed to be very little unifying features in the two ideas.

I didn't really have anything against Islam anyway. Aside from the fact that he just clearly was not, honestly, who cares if Obama was Muslim?  And even if he wasn't technically born in the United States (and he completely was), what threat did that pose against my well being? He was clearly not working for any other country. As for the Muslim accusations, furthermore, it bothered me no more or less than someone being a Christian, as I am not religious and I prefer it when wisdom comes from a different place other than socially accepted myths and a really old book that was at odds with itself.

I was a top expert at letting people take control of my life, but finding ways to either undermine that power or slowly but surely gain that person's confidence and gain sway and maybe some level of equality in so doing was always an undercurrent for me. In my heart of hearts, I didn't want to be anyone's pet, or to have to attempt to manipulate others to like me when, had I been given the same independence and freedom I would have been able to stand my ground or walk away. My grandma quickly over the course of these two months, opened up to me more than she had to anyone in a decade or maybe more, and it was in part because I didn't ever argue with her about her beliefs. Instead I listened, until I got to the heart of what she was trying to say and where she was coming from. Nobody realized who I actually was, or what I thought, and it was one of the few power dynamics that I had over those around me. If she really truly knew me, she would have thought I was awful and nihilistic, and likely wouldn't have wanted much to do with me. There is a lot of emphasis on being yourself at all times, but it's very hard to live up to when you are completely reliant on everyone around you. I let her see the side of me that she wanted to see – and that side of me wasn't a lie. I just hid the other half.

My eyesight had diminished even further. My eyes were so runny by this time from a need for glasses that people noticed me in the store. I looked like someone with an eye condition in the dark ages. It was sort of ruining the symmetry of my face, due to my constant squinting. I didn't even open my right eye anymore. It was tightly shut at all times, and when it opened at all, oozy liquid ushered on out and ran down my face. My eyes burned and stung almost continuously. It looked horrible. And of course, nobody really had done anything for me in this regard. Nobody wanted to take me to the eye doctor, or pay that kind of money. They just watched the years go by as my eyes became worse and worse. Somehow, I had become so accustomed to it, that even though it was kind of ruining things for me – even with my facial expression. I looked like I was glaring all the time and people thought I was mean - my grandma Marie, bless her for this, saw this problem for what it was and said no more. She set me up with an eye appointment. She had to pay out of pocket, and it amounted to several hundred dollars that had taken her months to save for, but she chose to spend it on me, to save my eyes. I remember feeling this weird confusion that she was willing to pay full price for me to see the eye doctor and for me to get a pair of glasses (which I now was not too good for). I didn't feel like I deserved it. I apologized and told her everything would be fine. I didn't know how comfortable I felt about anyone actually caring about how I was doing, or what my future held.

I went in and came out with a three hundred dollar pair of glasses and the appointment had cost another three hundred dollars. The idea of anyone spending six hundred dollars on me nearly gave me a heart attack. Thinking I was going to die at a young age had set in motion this idea that I didn't deserve equal treatment. I had very low standards for myself. I hadn't even realized how badly my eyes were, even though it was chronic and psychically obvious. Regardless of the dynamic of control, I will now and forever more say that my grandma getting me that pair of glasses might very well be the greatest acts of kindness ever bestowed upon me. Truly.

The eye doctors told me that one of my eyes was damaged in such a way, that had I not gotten glasses within the next five years I would have eventually lost eyesight in my right eye. Wearing glasses was actually going to improve my vision. The moment I put those glasses on, I was finally seeing the world in a way I never had. The whole world looked completely different, sharp and dramatic and intricate. I didn't realize that when you are driving you are supposed to be able to see the divots and individual gravels in the road. I didn't realize you could see individual leaves on trees even at a distance, or that pines had more depth to them. I could see things in people's faces that I hadn't before. I could see the imperfections of my own face in the mirror, and though this bothered me, it was probably the first time I was having a good honest look at myself – pours and all. Everyday items in the kitchen seemed brighter. Things seemed shinier. The carpet looked interesting with all it's individual soft clumps coming together to make a carpet. Psychologically, getting those glasses created an incentive for me to see the world in a new way, and for me to actually want to see it. I had long stopped going outside in the daylight if I could help it. The sun had just hurt my eyes too much. And now, I could go out and my eyes didn't hurt anymore.

Also, I suddenly realized how hard I had been squinting my eyes and what that had been doing to my cheeks and eyebrows. My eyes looked twice as big now – and when friends and family saw me, they said I looked like a completely different person. When I put those glasses on, I realized that there was no reason for me to clench my eyes, and when I stopped my cheeks began to tingle furiously for days, as this was the first time I had relaxed my face in about six years. It was weird to me that most people just relaxed their faces. I had been squinting so hard that it had permanently caused a slight difference in the muscles of my eyebrows, causing them to become slightly crooked to this day. I notice this more than others do, and it can be hid with make up if I am feeling up to it.

I didn't want to but my grandma hated my hair, so I let her take me to her favorite republican hairstylist and change my hair. Having literally bestowed on me the gift of sight – I didn't feel in the position to be complaining. She thought I looked like a hardened criminal with my bleached blonde hair. Besides I didn't really like my own hair either. It was totally fried due to me wanting to make it as white as possible. The hair near my neck had basically fallen out I learned later, from all the bleaching.

The salon in question wasn't your typical hair salon. It was in a very small building with American flags with matching red, white and blue hibiscus growing in pots by the front door to match. The hair stylist was extremely republican, and she loved the Bush family so much she actually had a picture of George W. Bush on the wall. They gave me the Rachel hair-do – as I was clueless and unsure of what I wanted, and dyed my hair a sandy soft brown. It looked better. I was nervous about having 90's Rachel hair, but my hair being as it is naturally curly, wouldn't take to a true Rachel look unless I straightened it and styled it that way each morning. My grandma and this hairdresser went on about how Obama was going to ruin the world, about how Obama was going to force abortions, and a lot of stuff that never happened. I had thought that controversial subjects were not good for business, but in fact, people seemed to like her because her ideas reflected theirs in this part of the world. I was basically opinionless on who should be president at the time, but I secretly kind of liked Obama – I liked the way he articulated his ideas. He was just likeable.

I was skeptical of 'hope and change'. I couldn't see escaping from all the corruption on an individual anecdotal microcosm of my own life, or the macrocosm of humanity as a whole without the world basically coming to almost an end I didn't think Obama was going to fix everything – and at the time I thought that you couldn't be liberal unless you were obsessed and agreed with every person in power with liberal values – an obvious fallacy. I think the underlying hatred was because Obama was black. Maybe not everyone who disliked him were against him for this, but from my personal experience, it was the deciding factor for many rural white voters. What ignorance.

There was a visit to my aunt Margie, who lived in Bonners Ferry, this gorgeous little town up in the northmost part of Idaho close to the border. My great aunt Margie is this fantastic woman with astounding character and energy, 96 years of age. She grew up incredibly poor. When she was still a teenager, she had decided she would travel the world and shirk conventionally acceptable female roles and lead a life of adventure instead. She left the United States and traveled on her own for several years all over Europe and other continents. She wore pants in the thirties and forties and was a complete contradiction of the typical women of her time. She chose not to have children.

When WW2  came around she became a nurse. After the war, she worked at a post office, where she met her her husband. He died six years later of a rare illness and she never dated or remarried or was with anyone else for the rest of her life. She became a machinist/carpenter/artist/inventor, and started her own successful machine shop that she ran herself in Seattle where she let sculptors and inventors use her shop to make their creations, often with her help. She became a well loved person in the Seattle art scene and she helped entrepreneurs make their ideas become real. I am told that she helped invent certain components to the pellet stove that are still used today.

Margie was a vegetarian for most of her life, though she sometimes ate fish at her doctor's behest. Margie wore whatever she wanted. She would dress up in bright colors, often favoring black and white striped tights, purple dresses, and large sunhats that she would put plastic fruit on. She was famous for her hats, which often times seemed bigger than she was. Obviously Margie was and is the gem of our family.

I had up to this point, never really met my great aunt before. She was having difficulties running her very sizable household and menagerie of animals. Margie was a devout Catholic and I remember when we parked, the day was overcast, and looking at her front lawn which was scattered with various Mother Mary's and crosses of every shape and size (some of them life-sized) and the bright colors and the expressions on the faces of the Mary's was somehow intense and dark and beautiful. We walked in, and blasting from every room (and there were many rooms) was the Catholic channel. She couldn't hear very well, and it was important for her to always be showing her devotion to the church. I watched distantly for hours, seeing nuns and priests chanting in Latin, carrying out Catholic strange traditions involving fancy goblets, crackers and pieces of cloth. It was world I could never fully understand, but there was a mysterious loveliness to it. Mother Mary's were, as I said, absolutely everywhere – even in the bathrooms. She had about six dogs, many of them being Pomeranian fluff balls of happiness, and I spent quite a bit of time with them. Outside she had these crazy Alpacas and a bunch of chickens and ducks and rabbits. It was hard to imagine a woman in her nineties being able to keep up with this.

Margie having all these animals was a bizarre story. One of her closest friends was this Catholic priest in the community who was about her same age at her. He and Margie were probably the last two surviving people from their generation in the town dedicated to Catholicism and for this reason they were very close. This priest was driving down a rural road one day in the middle of nowhere. There had been construction on this road that lead to a bridge, and the bridge was taken down, but there were no people around and there were no signs that indicated that the bridge was essentially a dead end that lead into a deep ravine. I can't imagine this happening in the 21st century but it did. He was pretty old too, and was losing his sight. So he ended up driving right off this bridge, and breaking just about every bone in his body, but somehow miraculously he survived (a good portion of his body was replaced by metal), and sued the company for several million dollars for their negligence on informing drivers that the road was basically a death trap.

He had nothing to do with this money really – he was old and donating it back to the church was probably what ended up happening to most of it, but I guess he wanted to make the best of it in the short time he had left (he died only a few years after the incident), and so he started buying animals like crazy. I guess thinking it would make him happy. And when he couldn't take care of those animals, he gave them to Margie, who was also going blind and was equally as old and would have difficulties taking care of them. However, Margie was very much in denial that she was going blind, and she drove till she was in her nineties even when she should have stopped, and she didn't think she was losing out on any of the spunk she had when she was young. She thought she could run a farm by herself (I think it was something she did at some point in her busy life, as well as build her own house). But she couldn't, and nobody in the community really stopped by to help. The only living relative that seemed to care about Margie was my grandma, and a great deal of my grandma's time was spent trying to convince Margie not to try doing home improvements anymore, and to try to start downsizing her life and changing her lifestyle to match her age, which, for someone as ambitious and independent as Margie was a real challenge.

We spent that rainy day packing things in boxes for Margie. She gave me special rosaries and Catholic charms. She started talking at one point about my grandma's upbringing. She wasn't someone who had a filter. She talked about things that made people uncomfortable sometimes, I am told she was always that way. It's strange because it seems like my grandma has this thick skin about everything that had happened to her in her life, but Margie seemed to see right through that. She started talking openly about how my grandmother had been wounded and mistreated by just about everyone she had ever loved at a young age, and I could see this strange vulnerable moment where my grandma seemed to sort of shrink uncomfortably. This one moment really helped me understand my grandma deeper. It was something I had never really thought about up to that point. I always saw my grandmother as rather invulnerable – a force of perfectionism and ultimate  judgment, and it was at this moment with Margie pointing it out, that I had a small opening to see a crack in that facade. My grandma was still a child underneath all of that.

There was/is something very warm and special about Margie's presence. She's very honest, and unusual. Looking at her life and her character, she makes it all look so easy. I like to think of her as someone I should aspire to. And proof that you don't have to become dull with age.

We went out to eat with these two people earlier in the day at Bonners Ferry. Margie forgot she made these engagements. It was a couple, both were both in their mid-fifties – obvious churchgoers. I thought they were phony and I didn't care for them much. We went to this small cafe and ordered breakfast food. I let my grandma order for me, as I had no idea what to order for myself (I was too nervous to think at restaurants most of the time). It was a very awkward encounter for me because they kept on asking me questions about what I was studying in college, or what my plans were to get married or have children. When people asked me questions like this it made me feel like a loser. When I explained that none of those things were happening, they looked at me weird, and back and forth to each other. I guess it really seemed particular to them that I wasn't going to college.

Back at my grandma's, I spent a great deal of those dark late fall days cutting up children's books and gardening books in the back room, adding to my collage collection for when I got back, listening to Stephen King novels on audiotape. My grandma was annoyed that I did this to the books – cutting them instead of keeping them, and looking back, I think there were a few I should have not cut up. She let me though, because she wanted to encourage me artistically. She really wanted me to become a successful painter like she had been. I felt some of this was projecting herself onto me, but getting that kind of encouragement meant a lot nonetheless. No adult had encouraged me artistically before. She gave me a large supply of acrylic and oil paints she was no longer going to use, as well as large stacks of canvases. It was a lot. I was set for years. Between getting me these glasses and giving me all these art supplies, I was besides myself.

She eventually offered to let me stay there. It was something she was hoping I would do. She wanted me to live in the back room perhaps, to help her with her garden, to maybe get a job in that small town, painting on the side – and eventually becoming good enough to maybe sell those paintings. She might have been hoping that I would become a small town person, choosing to marry a local and having a family up there. She promised to help me learn to drive. She explained that I would be away from my mother and father and older sisters, away from all that chaos and negativity, that my grandma saw me as too good for.

She didn't want to be alone for the last years of her life. I would have a place of my own. But ultimately, I knew it wouldn't work. For one, I had held back a lot of my personal beliefs and opinions, and I knew I couldn't live that way if it was permanent. She would eventually discover that we had different values. Secondly, my grandma was racist, and this was big issue for me. She didn't think she was of course, but she actually was extremely racist. Yeah, she liked me, because I am white, but it would never feel right to me. It bothered me to hear her go on about how whites were being suppressed, and how black people are basically inherently violent and I couldn't live with that. I would eventually have exploded. And she was too old to change her mind. Perhaps I didn't want the narrow politics and thinking of the small community to rub off on me.

Fox News was blaring in the living room everyday too. I loved her dogs, but if you know Yorkies, they get old really fast, licking you in the face each morning with their weird face hair dangling. They seemed to constantly need me. And I already had Shorty down at my mom's place to take care of. I couldn't abandon him. I would also have missed Allison. I don't think I could live without Allison in my life. My father was beginning to fight with her, and with David too for that matter, and I was afraid he was going to become physically abusive towards them in the same way he had been me. I wanted to be there for her in her early teen years at the very least. I wouldn't see much of her if I lived up north. I didn't feel right leaving her. Ultimately, though, I think my grandma wanted me because she thought I was a younger version of her and she liked the control she had over me. She wanted to be able to control what I ate, my hair, my clothes. I was a project that could have kept her busy. I hesitate to try to paint her as some kind of selfish evil being. She really wasn't – she showed more decency to me in particular than my parents had. But she had issues. She was projecting her own personality onto me, and if I continued to take gifts I would begin feeling more and more guilty about accepting them, and I would get trapped. Plus, this stuff was all comfort. She offered me a sort of stable comfort that didn't match who I was inside. I really felt there was some great calling to me, out there somewhere. I didn't know what it was, but I did know I didn't want to marry some local car mechanic and have two children and own a house and have McCain signs in my yard, regardless of how cheap real estate was.

People often think I am them. It might be because I am submissive, or because I can entertain other people's beliefs without adhering to them. Maybe I am open in a way and it is relatable to others. I can be chatty at times, but there are certain kinds of people I just prefer to listen to. Perhaps it's just this incredibly big hole in my identity, some void that was created  that has caused me to I stayed a child, or some kind of wound that caved in on itself and became a black hole. I seem to know who I am – but then is anyone ever a static entity? We are all in the process of constant change, and the older I get the less I see myself as having a core identity. Perhaps I am vulnerable to people in a way. There is something a little choppy and malleable about me – often times in my psychological blind spots. I often times feel more or less like I am playing a part in a play – tricking myself to believe it's all real. Not like a sociopath. But like someone who's not really a total someone. I just have this void in me, and it's hard to explain. And I think people identify that void on a very primitive level and fill it with their own identity. I don't know if I am explaining that well.

My grandma was right in seeing the symbiosis of the situation, but ultimately, it was a role I was not willing to fill. There were a lot of unspoken aspects that would have become painful future problems And I didn't want to become a miniature her. I would eventually reject what she had offered me. I didn't want to sour a good relationship with her. I can definitely see how me rejecting this offer might strike people as being very foolish. I had  less than nothing at my parents who more or less used me as a punching bag, and I suffered a lot of abuse from the both of them. I still felt this inner fire of wanting to be something more. There had to be more to life than becoming stable. I didn't want to give up that something, and I knew that living with my grandma would have involved me living a very controlled lifestyle that would have eventually cut into who I was as a person. Ultimately, I felt like would be settling. I couldn't just be myself and live up there. There was a price.

I really wanted out of these small towns. I wanted bright lights of a large city spanning out as far as could be seen – so I could see infinite lives and existences crammed before me. I wanted to be around all kinds of walks of life. I wanted to walk down city streets at night and see all the nightmares of human beings up close and personal, and also experience and see the greatest of human potential. I love looking at nature. I love lakes, and the way the mist would gather around the mountains and in many respects, I loved walking into small town diners and being able to see the stars at night. But I would never connect to anyone and it wasn't the kind of growth I needed. And think, when you are fortunate enough in the rare set of circumstances when you get one opportunity in a small town, either you find someone you can connect with, or you get a job you are like, in that small world, once you lose that something, there is no future and every part of that town is tinged with regret and sadness, in a place that small. In a city, there is always a new beginning a new face, and a new way of life waiting for you. It's never the end in the city. You can grow all over. There is always something new to move onto.

Lastly, and perhaps most critical to my decision to continue my futile struggle with my parents was that Sarah emailed me around that same time, and she told me that she was done with living in Texas. Working there was killing her soul, and she didn't see her and Alex going anywhere with their lives. They didn't end up writing songs or making music. She had told Alex that she was moving back to Idaho, and he could stay or go, but she was going. He chose to go with her – but her having decided individually to leave alone – or with him was indication that in a way their relationship was already on the rocks – even if they didn't fight. Sarah told me she was going to do everything she could to help me get back on my feet. She was going to help me get my social security card, help me find work, help me integrate back into society somehow. We were both ready to try being close again, this time without fighting like insecure teenagers that we were. We had both learned a ton of humility from our separate existences, she working and realizing what she actually wanted in life and how to take control of her life situations, and me, having had to confront my own insecurity and ego. I truly missed Sarah. We both wanted to be in a band together still, and to work on manga comics together. We were so excited. I didn't feel like I had to be anyone I wasn't with her. And eventually, we wanted to move away from Idaho altogether, maybe Seattle or something. It almost sounded too good to be true, so of course I was going to move back to my parents and wait it out.

PART 71 - https://tinyurl.com/y6v3ln9a

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-60 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far). 

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-70

[putris-et-mulier]

Hey. Can I have some advice, or at least, a moment to vent? I've been living with chronic illness for a while now. Ten months ago it got worse and a few months after that, I found out that I was diagnosed with chronic bronchitis when I was younger. Only my mother never told me until I was complaining about the same damn cough for 5 months. I researched it and behold the symptoms match with the symptoms I've been having and (1/3)

lived with for years. Chronic bronchitis is a leading cause of death. And no one bothered to tell me hey you’ve had a chronic illness for years and yea you probably should get on some kind of regular treatment. Much like my ADHD that my mom didn’t believe I had until I was 18 and compiled enough research to write my own article and couldn’t sit still to watch a movie. Anyway, I moved out, got a job at one of the busiest theme parks in the world, proceeded to get sick several times,and then ended up with a chronic cough that wouldn’t go away. Present time. It’s been 10 months since the cough started and no I still have yet to receive treatment cause doctors are fucking expensive and I have no car. I walk to work and there isn’t a dr near where I live that the buses will take me to. Uber is fucking expensive and I’ve got bills to pay. Doctors also give me the worst anxiety. When I went to get my ADHD treated the dr gave me a panic attack and told me that I was wastingwas wasting her time cause I couldn’t afford to pay her up front and the secretary was fucking up the insurance. They don’t listen to me, often give the wrong medicine, and/or always, ALWAYS, have something to say about my fucking weight as though that is what is making me sick. Like yea, could I lose a few pounds? Sure. Is it what’s making me ill? No. And I don’t have the fucking money to spend to try to find a decent doctor that will give me the treatment I need before I end up dying.Today, my chest felt like someone was squeezing my lungs and then setting fire to them while I couldn’t breath. I honestly was afraid that I was gonna pass out. And I understand I do need to get treatment but if it comes down to a dr or having fun and making all the hours I work and the constant stress worth it then I’m gonna go have fun. Cause I work way too much (50 hr/6 day weeks)for someone in my current state of health. I just don’t know. I’m tired and stressed and I have like no Energy™and just sorry for the long ass rant but you seem like the only blog I follow that would probably at least know what I’m dealing with. If that’s the right way to put it? I just feel like its gonna come down between me dying but at least having some semblance of fun or surviving my illness and not much else. I can’t afford both.

As hard as it is for people born disabled, I’m very very lucky to have been put on the disability system when I was a baby. 

People think it’s so easy to get on disability because everyone’s idea of a disabled person is an adult mutate that was physically injured (not that it’s easy for them either) but when you show up and say “I’m sick” but look healthy they disregard you because… Where have you been all these years? If you were really sick you would’ve come earlier.

No one believes you.

I wish I had advice but as of now this is the status quo. You are very lucky to have a documented diagnosis so you do have a little bit of a step up but the truth of the matter is that you have to give up your life as it is now if you want any help.

It’s going to take years, intentionally confusing and convoluted paperwork, neglect, humiliation, verbal abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, and depending on the disability also physical abuse. And that’s just to get on disability in the first place.

Then a few times each year you have to convince them you still need it. I was born disabled and I have a physically visible disability and I still have to keep proving that God hasn’t cured me.

This is why we are disabled. 

If you seek treatment you’re going to have to move outside of society. You can’t keep working, you can’t go do anything fun without considering how it may look if you get caught, you have to move in with family or friends that aren’t sick who will make you sicker with all the stress of being gas lighted not just outside but also inside your home. Or you get institutionalized.

What you’re going through is very common. What you’ve decided on is also very common.

I did it myself as much as possible and was just crossing my fingers hoping that I died before I got to the point where I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I did a lot of fun things and I had a lot of great times. Where I am in my life now, since I didn’t die in time, I’ve had to give up all of that and more. I have to beg someone(s) to let me live each week. I’ve come to terms with my life now becoming nothing but about being disabled and I’m starting to fight back but we are at square one. And I am much weaker and much more ill than I’ve ever been in my life because of all the fun I had.

But I don’t know if I would’ve given up having fun even knowing it’s making my life now nearly impossible. I’m one of the first millennials, the first disabled generation, to get to this stage in being a semi-legal citizen in adulthood so there is no one to look to for advice that knows what this is like.  Or will believe that you’re telling the truth. Other disabled people my age are going through the same thing, none of us really know what’s going to happen or what any of the right answers are.

If I hadn’t stayed in the closet for so long I wonder what I would be like now. Would I be more stable and confident? What if it was still as bad but I didn’t even have fond memories? If I hadn’t been able to relax now and then I may not have even let myself live this long. I have no idea.

The best I can tell you is that you are not alone and as much as it feels like no one can understand your situation there are a lot of people who know exactly what it’s like. But even having that support is risky because you do have to go into disabled communities on the Internet which can risk you being uncloseted.

This is why you are using anonymous. This is why I never turn the option of being anonymous off.

I, for one, will not live in this suffering needlessly. I’ve would’ve committed suicide many years ago as  I had planned on until I finally did involve myself, outside of the closet, in the disabled community online.

It’s not the camaraderie or the support that gave me a will to live. I still feel the same. The difference is I see you guys and I’m living your future. If the only way to live is to suffer then I’m willing to do so in order for you guys to have a little more traction than we have.

It’s not altruistic, it’s petty.

I care nothing for those people in society. I can feel sympathy or empathy but at my core I really don’t care. I care about what’s mine. My being disabled. My place in the disabled community. You guys; my friends.

There is one thing I’m good at and that is pissing socialites off. From a fuckboy on the Internet to a world renowned doctor. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to piss as many of them off as I can because I care about other disabled people.

One of two things can happen: 

1. I’ll just be entertaining other disabled people while I go down in flames

2. I might actually help making a difference toward getting our civil rights by taking some the socialites down with me

I’m happy with either of these. It’s petty but it’ll be fun and this is the only fun currently available to my community. 

[etc-greys]

Season 14 Episode 6: Come on Down to My Boat, Baby

Songs of the Episode:

Standout by Kid Dean

Fall by Donora

Looking Back by Claire Guerreso

Surround Me by Leon

Synopsis: The episode opens with Amelia sneaking into her and Owen’s house to look over her notes from med school. She’s nervous about her first day back and finds herself wondering when the symptoms began. As her and Owen talk about tumor that both brought them together and tore them apart, they mutually decide to blame the tumor for all the bad and accredit their happy memories together to their love for each other. This brings them closer together and they decide to remain friends, and not just fake divorced people friends, like real friends who they can rely on for honesty and support. *Side note I am so proud of their growth and their maturity in handling their separation and divorce. I just hope that they can truly remain friends!*

Mer is on the cover of JSA (a medical journal) for Megan’s groundbreaking surgery and everyone is talking about it as she, along with Maggie, and Amelia enter the hospital. Also on the minds of all the doctors is the Intern mixer, where we will finally meet the newest batch of Grey’s Anatomy doctors! Meanwhile, Tom,Amelia’s cocky mento, is leaving Seattle as Amelia gains back her surgical reign. Alex is absolutely adorable when he first compliments Mer on her cover story, and tells her to be nice to Jo since she opted out of being included in the story as it could draw the attention of her abusive ex-husband. He emphasizes that she be really nice and not Mer nice to Jo -which if you know her and Jo’s relationship you know that she hasn’t always been the kindest to Jo. Jo ends up being on Mer’s service and Mer keeps her promise to be extra kind to Jo. They’re patient is a lawyer who’s getting a liver dissection and diversion procedure (also known as an alps procedure).

After constant teasing from Karev about how to spend his extreme inheritance, Jackson buys a yacht, which influences all the boys to take a sick day. Amelia’s first patient back is a mother with three kids who needs a brain tumor removed and after meeting the family she begins to have doubts about her readiness to return to the OR. Arizona accidentally broke up with Carina when she needed space as she prepares for her daughter’s homecoming. Thus we see Maggie, April, and Arizona all tindering together, yet all looking for very different things. Bailey catches them and begins to tinder on Maggie’s behalf given she’s no longer on the market and wants to have some fun. By the way, Avery also bought a sick new car.

Amelia literally runs to catch Tom from leaving by standing in front of his car, she needs reassurance and asks that he stay to assist in surgery. A teen shows up to the hospital with intense stomach pain, just as a frequent flier hypochondriac shows up. As they are examining her, a gun goes off, through the womans body, grazing April’s arm, and into the femoral artery of the hypochondriac. Turns out the gun was all up in her vajay, yup you read that right and it was loaded. She had apparently been trying to sneak the gun into her boyfriend’s prison.

The boys are on Jackson’s SWEET yacht. But of course none of them know how to drive it and no he didn’t have a name for it either. Back at the hospital, Jo explains the surgery to Mer and asks for advice on how to better prepare for the surgery, but Mer only compliments her. This leaves Jo confused and when Webber stops in to tell Jo she’s in the running for Chief Resident  she thinks that either Mer. Alex, or Warren are behind it. She believes that they have all gone to Webber about her past and that they are treating her like a victim. He then reminds her that this is a good thing and that she’s doing a suburb job, and that he’s unaware of whatever she’s talking about. Amelia decides to take an overly cautious approach to the surgery because she’s scared. Back on the boat, Karev wonders “what yacht people eat.” They then compete to see who can tie the best surgeons knot. The lawyer is contemplating signing the consent papers and asks the doctors for advice. Mer reminds him that it is unethical for them to influence his decision. But Jo  breaks the rules and encourages him to sign it (a symbol of how she feels about her ex husband). She says to sign it because she wouldn’t want to wonder what could’ve been. Later, Mer goes back in to check on him  and make she it’s truly what he wanted to do. He tells her that while Jo said he should do it, that’s not the reason he said yes. Rather it’s why she said to do it that reminded him of his deceased wife. He would’ve given anything for his wife to have a chance of surviving and that if she’s been alive today he wouldn’t been in the position he’s in because she would’ve made him go to his check ups. So he’s doing it for his wife.

Competitions continue back at the boat for who can filet the best fish. Meanwhile, Mer is in surgery with Jo, when Jo asks why she hasn’t been yelled at her interaction with the lawyer. But Mer just brushes it off by saying that since she knows it’s wrong, there’s no reason to discuss it. Amelia pages Webber for an emergency AA meeting because she felt that the drugs and alcohol defined her, in the same way the that tumor made her brave and fearless. And she fears that was extracted along with the tumor. But the father figure tells her the problem is gone and that the recovery is the same of that of an addict, it’s one day at a time.

As Bailey and Maggie operate on the hypochondriac patient together, Bailey points out how the man overcomplicates and overthinks his life by constantly thinking something is medically wrong. This leads Maggie to have a revelation: she over thinks and overcomplicates her own life. She then decides to make the date with the tinder guy because she’s tired of overthinking things. Amen sister, aren’t we all? Bailey mom’s her (that’s right I made mom into a verb, try and stop me!) which is so cute and tells her how to date safely (public place, friends know where you are, important!!).

Across the hospital, April is appalled at how someone can settle so low for someone else (as in sticking a gun up your vajayjay for your boyfriend at 18 years old). Webber and Carina share war stories of things they’ve taken out of people as they watch Arizona and April in surgery. The gun is outta her vajayjay! Amelia is in surgery with Tom and she freaks out when there’s a bleed, but then handles it like a pro, saves the girl, and removes the tumor. Finally proving to herself that she can do it.

Mer continues to compliment Jo, until Jo asks her to stop it because it’s creeping her out. She then explains that she took her name off the paper to protect herself. Mer finally explains that she knows she’s in a horrible situation and that she is a survivor. She then admits that Alex was the one who asked her to be nice to her and that Jo’s on her service because she’s good, not because he asked her to. She also adds that it doesn’t matter about published papers what matters is what happens in surgery, the works she does, and who she is. And that Alex does things like that like for people he loves.

On the boat, Jackson talks about how he has a sister… and the guys tell him that Maggie’s not his sister and when he subtly asks about sleeping with her, they all look at him sideways. He then quickly avoids the topic. April and Arizona get real with the teen about how she needs to get it together. They try to convey her to be brave enough to say no to her bf.

Mer and Jo check on the lawyer after his surgery and he’s doing well. After Mer leaves the room to grab the lawyers assistance, Jo takes the opportunity to ask legal advice. He tells her that their isn’t much she can do to prevent him from finding her or where she lives if she files for divorce. He says most women are willing to take the risk.

The hypochondriac says he will never come back -a win for Bailey. The boys are all relaxed after their day of rigorous competitions, when Owen invites Deluca to stay with him. Ben then admits that he applied and got into the fire academy, but hasn’t told Bailey (good luck Ben!). Bailey and Webber email for the mixer, causing the boys to run in an attempt to get there on time (another competition). Maggie awakes her tinder date, sees him and ducks under the cover. Webber makes a toast at the mixer, as all the boys show up in the middle drunk, which is comical to say the least. Tom tells Amelia that she’s better then him and then… she sleeps with him. Yup this episode was full of surprises. Owen and Carina meet...with sparks flying. Mer and Jo get paged, the lawyer is in vfib. He dies. MER IS NOMINATED FOR A HARPER AVERY!! But she’s preoccupied with her patient’s death. Jackson asks Bailey to create a competition similar to the Harper Avery, in which they fund innovation and award greatness. In this he grants her total control and will give her half of his inheritance to fund it!! with half of her money. He wants to get back in the game and have the opportunity to win an award (his day of competitions proved inspirational). Deluca and Arizona both see Owen and Carina making out…like I said sparks were flying.

Jo talks to Alex. First she informs him that she’s in the running for chief resident!!! An then she explains how she appreciates all he’s done to protect her, but she feels she’s ready to fight her own battles. She’s decided to file for divorce from Paul. This is a huge step and I’m so proud of her!

Deluca runs into a girl from his past.. but who is she? Mer continues her research on the alps procedure with Bailey.

A Few Additional Thoughts:

I LOVED THIS EPISODE. It was funny, charming, sad, strong, bold, interesting, bizarre, and powerful. It was so wonderful to see the characters happy, and let loose after the traumas of the last few seasons. This episode was so light, yet it still held a weight. I’m so proud of Jo for deciding to file divorce papers. While it makes me fearful of what is to come, I’m glad she’s got Alex to support her and am in awe of her bravery.

Congrats to Meredith! A Harper Avery is HUGE! She deserves it.. let’s just hope she wins it! Next week is the 300th episode, so you know it’s gonna be amazing! Can’t wait!!

[tsgcincinnati]

MEMBER SPOTLIGHT: George Zamary of Zamary Law Office

We had a lot of fun sitting down with the oh-so-smart George Zamary of Zamary Law Firm, in Columbia Tusculum and thought we’d share some of our chat with you. George’s law practice is rooted in his passion for getting to know his clients, developing trusting relationships with them and helping them with all things “legal”. (Full disclosure here: I actually knew George before buying The Scout Guide Cincinnati, and he advised me a bit on the business; in addition, 2 other TSG members recommended I work with George for his legal counsel.) He’s such a down-to-earth guy who really wants to know how to best help you and doesn’t get caught up in a bunch of legal jargon that is known to scare many off. This is one of the main reasons why we scouted him out, but also why we recommend him so highly – he’s not your cookie cutter lawyer!

George Zamary at Zamary Law Firm. Photo: Amy Elisabeth Photography.

McKenna (MLB): What led you to leave the world of big law firms, and start your own firm? George (GZ): Most big law firms run things with focus on running the business and focus on the billable hour and they build big, fancy documents for clients. While there are many educated and talented people at big firms, I found that I had a passion for building a relationship with clients and being very practical about all legal matters with them. I love helping clients to retain the values and principles set by past generations in their family, in addition to being able to meet their current needs (and stay current).

MLB: What are your specialties? GZ: You could call me an “old school general practitioner” if you’d like, but I like to focus on estate planning, family matters and avoiding going to court! Court can be expensive, stressful and all-encompassing and I’ve learned that working to avoid going is a great strategy for me and my clients.

MLB: Who is the one person you admire most in your field right now? GZ: Frank Ray in Columbus, Ohio, was the one of the first attorneys I worked for as a law clerk.  He was a great mentor and one of the finest lawyers I have ever known.

MLB: What is the biggest lesson you have learned in your career? GZ: Patience.  At the beginning of my career when I was engaged in mostly litigation cases, my inclination was to be more combative.  As my practice has grown and spread into other areas, I have learned the value of taking time to thoroughly research an issue and present a balanced evaluation.  

Essentially, I recognize the value of good counseling rather than just trying to push a matter to trial to increase billable hours.  I try to allow my clients to avoid litigation through my experience.  However, I am willing to go to court on behalf of my clients when it is appropriate.  

MLB: What is some of the best advice you’ve ever received? GZ: Always be a zealous advocate for your clients.  “Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.” - Benjamin Franklin

MLB: Can you tell us some trends or things going on that we should be aware of? GZ: The law at national, state and local levels is constantly changing by legislatures or interpretation by the courts.  It is important for attorneys to keep up on all the issues so that we can proactively advise our clients on any new developments.  For instance, the changes in the tax laws in how they are affecting non-profits, charitable contributions and estate planning is something that is going to have far reaching implications.

MLB: What advice do you give to all clients (legal or not)? GZ: If possible, build a relationship with an attorney BEFORE you need his or her services.  Being proactive in the legal elements of your life or business can save heartache, stress and money down the road.  Often a new client comes in with a situation which could have been avoided if they would have sought legal assistance rather than hoping the problem would just go away.  

At the Zamary Law Firm we seek to build long-term relationships with our clients so that we can provide high quality, personalized legal services.

MLB: Outside of work, tell us a bit more about yourself. What is your favorite travel destination at the moment? GZ: Since I have two young daughters, we love spending time with them in Orlando.  Whether it be Disney or Universal Studios, it is fun to see it through their experience.  (I also wouldn’t rule out any trip or cruise that is just me and my wife!)  

MLB: How do you unwind at the end of the day? GZ: I love spending quality time with my family.  We watch cooking shows and then try to replicate recipes.  We also have fun together assembling puzzles and reading books.  Currently we are reading the Harry Potter series, hence a potential trip to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Orlando is in our very near future.

You can connect with George by emailing him gzamary@zamarylaw.com or calling the office 513.448.4150. Tell him Scout Sent you!