#if not for the simple fucking fact that my social worker has a hard time navigating these non-intuitive websites

[cowboyjen68]

Oh cowboyjen, the world feels so harsh and damaging and I feel so small. I’m a child of abuse and I feel like I had to teach myself everything to heal myself - but not before I fucked up my life and squandered a windfall that could have ensured my comfortable retirement. I’m so sad and angry and ashamed. I was only doing the best I could at the time. Why is the world so messed up and harsh? Do you think it’s getting better? I’m heartbroken.

I know the world is scary and unpredictable and dangerous. The bad news is, it always had been. Which is also the good news in some ways. The cycle of our world is that it is a constant battle of unfair vs fair and love vs hate and good vs evil and dangerous vs safe. When humans are involved the there will always be an up and down and back and forth in the world we are given to live in. It can be awful to see hurt in the world but can be reassuring to know it is nothing new, only the details and humans find a way to bring comfort and happiness to each other and themselves time after time. 

I had a pretty happy and healthy upbringing and I STILL managed to waste the hard earned money my mom and dad left to me. It was not a windfall but sure would have made my life more financially stable.  At the time I let my wife spend most of it and I take the blame. She was following her own patterns from growing up poor and I did not have the courage to say “no”. The loss caused me to do a few things that, had they continued, could have had a devastating impact on my life. 

After we split up I had the choice of continuing to spend my energy on wishing things were different and to wonder “what if” or do some actual work to make my life better, if not immediately, at least in my future.  My friends encouraged me to get a therapist and to figure out what priorities were important to me. The problem I was facing, which sounds like you are also struggling with, was the fact that I felt so overwhelmed I was stuck in the mud of what was done and unable to know how or what step to take to get back to solid ground. 

I listed on paper what I wanted. I listened to myself. The Me now and not the one from the past. It took several tries to be honest with myself and to lay out a plan. I was, like you, so ashamed of my actions I wasn’t seeking help or trying to find ways to improve my lot in life. When I asked for help I was sure people were judging me and I had to be okay with that happening to get the the resources that could give me some leverage to move on and improve my life.

The pep talk is you are not the only one who screwed up life by not being financially responsible and you can make up for lost chances. Now here are a few of the solid lessons I learned:

Ask your bank for help. Mine has a FREE financial planning/debt reduction planning service and app that I knew nothing about. Look to social services, even ones you think you are not eligible to use. Social workers are masters of networking and if they can’t help they might know someone who can. Don’t ever be ashamed to use local foodbanks or clothing banks. Saving 20.00 from the grocery store is 20.00 you can save or use to put gas in the car to continue working. Don’t spend money to save money. You don’t need an pricey app or special account or fancy investments. A simple free savings account at a credit union is a great start. 

I work three jobs and 7 days a week. I take any hours offered me and I am never afraid to take a few Cash Under The Table jobs when they arise. At 54 I didn’t want to be working 60 to 80 hours a week. BUT I have goals and that is what it is going to take to reach them. I did however, promise myself to not be miserable at my job so I work at three places I love. this was my compromise. I will work my ass off but not as jobs I hate.  This is my good fortune and I don’t take any of that for granted.  

There will be sacrifices to play catch up in your life BUT you can decide which things you are willing to sacrifice and what you will not. Be aware of these decisions and don’t act out of emotions. Weigh the next step with your happiness and how it will affect your success to find the balance. 

You will get your head above water again but it does take work. Sadly our life is not a cute 3 minute montage with a catchy song in some feel good rags to riches movie. It takes time and effort and focus. I do promise. The work, and YOU are worth it. 

[sas-afras]

7 19 20 23 36 37 40 42 46 48 50, sorry it's so many but I really like these questions!

7. favorite companions? least favorite companions?

favorite: veronica, arcade (though he doesnt feel the same) least favorite: raul, cass, boone

19. what is their motive for taking vegas?

being able to live in luxury and safety.

20. do they have a theme song?

hatef--k by the bravery

23. do they speak any languages other than english?

nope! english was hard enough for them to relearn, theyre not gonna put in the effort to learn anything else unless its Really necessary. they knew a few simple signs from when they were still learning how to talk again, but they dont use them often enough and the memory quickly fades

36. why did you create them? 

yes started out as a joke in a discord server about fucking caesar in front of the praetorian guard, i think?? im not in the server anymore so i cant run back and grab screenshots, but their creation was fully a Fuck That Old Man To Pieces kind of thing

37. do they draw, paint, play any instruments?

yes draws from time to time, usually in a middle schooler anime style. this is their self portrait

40. in conversation, are they kind? gentle? sarcastic? rude? do they speak warmly and openly with people, or are they more guarded? do they talk a lot?

this is actually a difficult question to answer considering yes is my Speech Skill Bitch, lmaoooo

so yes is very much a social chameleon, hence their skills as a diplomat for house-- whatever the other person needs to see to get on yes' side, they'll become. more often than not that defaults to being an effusive, airheaded chatterbox thats just so easy to underestimate. you know the stereotype, i dont have to go into incredible detail lol

but when they dont have an agenda theyre after, yes prefers to listen to other people talk, and chooses their words more carefully. it's... difficult for them to identify their own emotions, so when the mask comes off they seem more guarded, more quiet. theyre... softer.

42. name a random fact about your courier.

has thalassophobia (fear of the ocean, or deep dark water)

46. how do they die? how is their death received, by the mojave and by their companions?

yes dies of dehydration while trapped in the sierra madre vault, and the only person who notices is house. he mourns them in his own way, using a backup of their brain scans to create an AI replica, but deletes it after a few months. the rest of the companions have already washed their hands of them, and most simply wake up one day and realize they havent heard anything about the courier on the radio in a long, long time

48. can they cook, and if so, what do they cook? what are their favorite & least favorite foods?

nope! they get too impatient and either undercook or scorch the fuck out of anything they try to make. to be completely fair, they didnt have both the equipment to actually Cook Things and the motor control to do so safely for long

50. what’s their happiest memory?

they have a few. ive mentioned that getting their glass eye from doc mitchell is high up there, but "family dinners" with the other workers at the atomic wrangler, their first night sleeping in the lucky 38, and regaining the ability to read are all incredibly cherished memories.

[grubbywuff]

HORROR PROMPT: “This was not how it was supposed to go.”

Language, smol violence.

HORROR PROMPT: “This was not how it was supposed to go.” 

Everything was going according to plan and I was going to get a hefty chunk of cash. Hell, I think it might be time for a little vacation. A treat for myself, you know? I was a hard worker.

My client said the woman knew too much, that she had snooped on his phone and computers when he wasn’t home. They had a spat and she left. She knew too much about his organization and she could no longer be trusted. She was an asset and now she needed to be dispatched discreetly. 

It was simple. I tailed her for two weeks, checking work schedules and personal appointments as they argued on the phone here and there. She didn’t seem to have much of a social life, spending most of her time on walks or getting new books from the library. I had begun to think that she didn’t know anything.

After all, if she had found out about his illegalities, any normal person would have gone to the police by now. But that wasn’t why I was here. Sooner or later she would snitch. Maybe she was just holding out for blackmail and that would be eventual. My mission wouldn’t change if it were today or next week. Her locks were easy to defeat. In fact, there were several windows to her house that she didn’t even keep locked. 

Honestly, the audacity of some people to think that they’re safe. Actually even if they were locked, it was only a bit of wood and drywall - maybe a thick pane of glass - that formed their safety. Not so danger proof. 

So on a Friday evening, I sat waiting for her to return from work. No one would miss her for at least nine? Ten days? Her calendar indicated she had requested a week off. This was laughable. I would have plenty of time to dispose of her and maybe have some extra fun. I hadn’t been given any limitations as long as she disappeared. 

5:47pm. Any second now. 

She would pull up, walk in, set her bag and keys down, grab a glass of water. She would then go into her room, change into something comfortable, and set about making dinner. It was like that every weekday. She would always plate it up, set it on the table, and then go retrieve her laptop. That would be my cue. And then I could enjoy the meal before getting to the messy part. Perfect. 

Speaking of, there were the sounds of her keys at the door. I shut the coat closet and leaned up against the frame, hearing her footsteps in the kitchen for the water and then moving to the bedroom. Pristine routine. 

She came back out and I heard the soft suction of the fridge door, the rustle of ingredients, and the adjustment of stove knobs. There was some plastic wrap being torn and my mind wandered to what my reward would be. 

And then a knock on the door made my heart skip. 

Who the fuck was at the door? There were no appointments in her calendar. I checked when I got in. Everything was in her calendar. Always. Even her library trips were marked so she would never return books late. What the hell?

A muffled male voice came my way. Was he… delivering something? Yes that must be it. Just a package. The plan would still be fine. 

I was able to hear her tell him to please bring the package in. Huh. Must be something rather large and heavy. I heard it thump onto the ground, and she said her thank you and goodbye. Her front door shut and clicked and I brought my hand to the door, ear smashed to it trying to hear her. 

Nothing out of the ordinary now, just the sound of her cutting tape. Some more sounds of rustling plastic and more movement. It sounded like she pulled a chair over, maybe she was sitting down to inspect the contents. After not even two minutes of unpackaging sounds, she returned to the kitchen. 

Great. I felt my shoulders relax.

Back to dinner. The delicious smell of searing meat flooded my small hiding place, and then came the garlic, butter, and herbs. My mouth was watering. This was going to be a great night. Steak dinner, some nice wine I had spotted earlier, and a contract completed. I smiled. 

She moved back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table a few times, probably setting the table. I was getting hungry. 

Then footsteps again, and I could hear the sound of her dragging the box from earlier. I adjusted myself, ready to pounce as soon as she passed me but all I heard was the slow dragging. She was taking too long and I wanted that damn steak. 

Step, drag, step, drag. 

I put my hand on the doorknob. Just a few more steps and she would be past me, and prime for the taking. 

Step.

Drag.

Step. 

Drag. 

Just a few more steps and I could fling the door open. 

Step. 

Drag. 

I turned the knob slowly, ready to time it with her. 

Step.

I readied myself for a tackle, and twisted the knob, tensed to spring  - the door started to open forward and–

Clunk. 

My face hit the door and I whipped my neck back. What the fuck?

I forced the door again in confusion. It was definitely opening, but it was stuck. Something was wedged under the knob and against the opposite of the hall. I slammed it forward, backward, flung myself into it. but there was barely an inch of light that would come through the opening each time. 

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck. I rammed my shoulder into the door again to no avail. This fucking bitch. How did she know?

Wait. 

She hadn’t said a damn thing. I froze. She wasn’t running or screaming or yelling. She was standing just outside the closet. The next thing I knew, she pointed something at me through the crack in the door and a spray of burning mist hit me square in the face. I’ll be honest, not my finest moment. The burning went straight into my eyes and raced up my nose. Before I could wipe anything off, I heard the click and felt the sting. Everything got even more blurry as I spit and gagged, bumping into every wall of that damned closet.

And the next thing I knew I was waking up in a chair, eyes still stinging and snot running down my chin. I took a breath in and coughed some more. Are you kidding me? 

I went to wipe my face but to my horror my arms were strapped down - and my ankles too. 

Where the fuck was I? It was an empty room, maybe the size of a small office. A hidden bunker? I was in the dead center. 

“Hey!!!” I yelled. There could still be negotiation. There was always negotiation. 

I coughed a few times, spitting out more gunk. 

“Hello? Can we talk about this?” I yelled up toward the ceiling. The door must have been behind me but it hurt to turn too far. She probably dragged me around and boy would I feel that for days. She was going to pay. 

I started to rock back and forth, trying to get some sort of leverage and maybe slip a foot free. 

The door clicked open and I tried to sit up straighter. 

She walked slowly, like she was a fancy villain or some shit. As she came into view, she had a crooked smile that I wanted to rip off her face. 

“Finally. Can we talk?” I tried to sound convincing. Charisma was never really my strong suit, hence my field of work. Quiet, stealthy, and clean. I had been complacent and now I had to get myself out of this shit show. 

“About?” she asked, taking small steps and circling me. 

“Look, your boyfriend? He set you up to disappear. Clearly there’s a lot more to you than a pair of snooping eyes. Let’s make a deal.” I tried to smile. “I ain’t loyal to nobody. Let’s say you disappear and leave him alone and I’ll give you a cut. Pretend this never happened.”

She paused in front of me. I wanted so badly to know who she was and what her deal was but this wasn’t the time. I needed to get her to play along and then I would find her later, get my payment back in full. Extra work, but now I wanted revenge. She wasn’t going to embarrass me.

She was staring straight at me still with that stupid smile.

“I get a cut?” she drawled. I didn’t like her tone. Talkin to me like a kid. But I had to suck up my pride and not show that she was under my skin. 

“Yeah. And then we can all forget about this. How about it?”

She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “Okay. I get a cut.”

A sharp piercing pain slid across the top of my shoulder. 

I yelled out a string of curses. 

“Hey what the fuck you bitch?” I gritted my teeth and growled in pain. 

“Don’t call her names. You’re our bitch now.”

I twisted my head around trying to look at the new voice and there stood my client, closing the door behind him and locking it with a key. 

Fuck…

This was not how it was supposed to go.

[fanmoose12]

terrifyingly complicated

Levi and Hange come to a Halloween party, wearing a two-person costume. Everyone wonders what that can mean.

Working at a law firm was exhausting. It was also very stressing. And since he couldn’t get drunk in the middle of workday, Erwin had no choice, but to resort to another vice – smoking. Whenever the tension inside of him grew too intense to ignore (which happened rather frequently), Erwin took a pack of cigarettes and went outside. Feeling the smoke enter his lungs and then releasing it into the air, watching the white whiff dissolve into nothing calmed Erwin down better than anything.

During his smoke breaks, he was often accompanied by his co-workers. Mike joined him frequently. Moblit came a lot, too, especially when the stress of dealing with his troublesome superior Hange made him feel like tearing out his hair. As far as Erwin knew, Hange didn’t smoke. And even if she did, she never took breaks, too passionate about her work to let anything distract her. That is until Moblit, or sometimes Levi, didn’t make her rest. Moblit pleaded and bargained with her. Levi simple dragged her away from her desk.

Speaking of Levi, he was the one, who accompanied Erwin the most. He didn’t smoke that much, so Erwin suspected that Levi used the excuse of smoke breaks simply to get out of their noisy, bustling office.

This time, of course, he joined Erwin, as well.

"So, Levi," Erwin glanced at his friend. He lighted up a cigarette and passed the lighter to Levi. "Are you going to the office party this Friday?"

Erwin didn't actually expect an affirmative answer from Levi. If he could help it, Levi always stayed at home, preferring to keep his human interaction to a minimum. Recently, though, he started appearing at social gatherings more often. Erwin strongly suspected that a certain bespectacled co-worker of theirs was the reason for this sudden change.

Still, Halloween wasn't just another party, where everyone gets slightly drunk and bitches about their higher-ups. You have to wear a costume. And in all those years that Levi worked in their firm, he had never attended the Halloween party.

So what a surprise Erwin got, when Levi took a drag of his cigarette and then slowly nodded.

The cigarette almost slipped from between Erwin's fingers.

"You're coming?" he couldn't help, but ask again.

"Yes.”

"And... do you have a costume?"

"Frankenstein's monster," Levi replied nonchalantly.

Erwin openly stared at him. Was their conversation real? Or was it some kind of fever dream?

"F-frankenstein's monster?" he repeated, getting more and more worried about his sanity.

"Erwin, check your hearing," Levi grumbled. "Yes, I'll be a Frankenstein's monster, like from the novel, you know?"

Levi looked so calm, as though him not only attending a party, but also wearing a costume was a regular occurrence and not once in a lifetime event.

Erwin put a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. Just one cigarette wasn't enough to get him through this bizarre conversation.

"So... if you're Frankenstein's monster...” Erwin said slowly, carefully. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Levi will be at the party. “Will there be a Frankenstein?"

"Of course, there will be Frankenstein. It’s obviously four-eyes," Levi huffed. "Who else could it be?"

Who else indeed. Erwin felt like an idiot. Truly, there was only one person in this world, who could force Levi to do something like this.

But the question was... Did it mean something?

"Oi," Mike appeared outside, joining them, before Erwin could ask that question. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Levi answered immediately .

Erwin shared a look with Mike. "Hange and Levi are going together to the Halloween party."

"Oh," Mike raised his eyebrows. "You finally decided to let people know?"

Levi stared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about? What do we need to let people know? That Hange has an annoying ability to pester people until they agree to do what she wants them to? It is hardly news for anyone."

Ah. That was it. Erwin shook his head, he shouldn't have expected anything else. Levi and Hange were the most oblivious people in existence. Everyone in the office knew about their feelings for each other. Everyone, except Levi and Hange. Erwin often wondered how two people can be so smart and so stupid at the same time. These two were obviously made for each other.

"So you two..." Mike trailed off, trying to find the best words. With Levi and Hange, one had to be as concrete as possible. "...Er, you did not confess to each other?"

"Confessed about what?" Levi scowled. "You both are so weird today," he turned around, throwing the cigarette butt into the nearest trashcan. "Whatever, I'm going inside. You shouldn't stay long as well. Your brains have obviously started to freeze."

Raising the collar of his coat higher, Levi hurriedly made his way back inside.

Mike and Erwin watched him go, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"I can't believe them," Mike muttered. "They're really doing a two-person costume, but they don't realize what people will think? Nanaba and I have never worn a couple costume, and we've been dating for four years!"

"It's an extremely difficult case," Erwin agreed with a sigh.

“You’re their boss, can’t you do something about it? Like order them to get their shit together and stop living in denial?” Mike asked almost desperately. “The stench of their pheromones is making me insane.”

Erwin looked up, lighting up another cigarette. “I don’t think anything can be done about it. We just have to wait and hope that they will realize it by themselves. Pushing them in that direction will only delay any possible development.”

“Jesus,” Mike shuddered. “These two are terrifyingly difficult.”

***

“Hey boss,” Nifa sat down at the edge of Hange’s desk with a cautious smile. Hange hated when someone interrupted her work. Unless that someone was Levi. Strangely, she didn’t seem to mind whenever he came up to her desk to engage in another round of meaningless bickering. Furthermore, Hange herself often took a break from her oh so precious work to go and find Levi, just so she could share some joke or pun with him. However, Nifa obviously was no Levi, so she had to resort to placating her superior with a cup of coffee.

If there was something Hange liked more than her work, it was coffee.

It seemed like Nifa’s plan was working out. Hange accepted the coffee, looking up at Nifa with a kind smile.

“Do you want something?” she murmured, taking a large gulp from the cup.

“Halloween is this Friday,” Nifa explained, tilting her head slightly. “What costume are you going to wear this year?”

Most of the people at their firm didn’t really bother with costumes. The majority just put on vampire teeth or painted their faces with fake blood and called it a day. Although this year, they had new interns, so maybe they would be able to spice things up a little. Personally, Nifa couldn’t wait to show off her Freddy Kruger costume.

And she was also dying to know what Hange was going to wear this year. She always went out of her way to come up with the most gorgeous and creative costumes. Last year she dressed up as a space pirate. And year before that she was a grim reaper. She even had a scythe! Nifa’s favorite, however, was that Halloween, when Hange wore a zombie costume. It was both disturbing and awesome – the look was completed by a part of brain, sticking out of Hange’s hair! She claimed that it was real, and Nifa, knowing her superior, wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

“It’s nothing special this time,” Hange revealed. “A little boring even.”

“Oi, quit teasing,” Nifa chided. “Your costumes are never boring. So, what is it?”

“If you want to know so much,” Hange sighed, feigning indifference. However, a little twinkle in her eyes told Nifa that, despite her claims, Hange was excited about the costume. “I’m going as Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein?” Nifa drew her eyebrows together. “Monster or a scientist?”

“Scientist.”

“Oh,” maybe, Hange was right after all. It did sound a little boring. “Why not a monster?”

“Levi is going to be my monster,” Hange confessed with a wide grin.

My monster?

Did that mean what Nifa thought it meant? She could ask Hange about it, of course, and she would probably answer, but still, asking her superior that kind of personal question felt a little too intrusive even for the great gossiper Nifa.

However, she could always take a less direct approach.

"I don't remember Levi ever attending the Halloween party," Nifa looked at Hange beneath her eyelashes. "It must have been hard to make him come this year."

"You bet it was," Hange agreed, pushing the glasses up on her head. "He had two conditions."

Nifa leaned closer. "What conditions?"

"Firstly, I have to learn how to brew tea the way he likes it."

That was.... so Levi, Nifa thought with an internal smile. Everyone in the office knew he was obsessed with tea. However, why did he need Hange to learn how to brew it? As far as Nifa knew, Levi didn't let anyone come near his precious tea stash. Was Hange an exception? If so, then why? Could it mean that they were much closer than just friends?

Still, it wasn't conclusive evidence. Nifa needed something more substantial.

"And secondly," Hange showed the exact number with her fingers. "Levi wants to wash my hair. He says it's dirty and sticky, and he hates the stench of my shampoo," Hange shrugged, while Nifa was too busy gaping at her. Levi wanted to wash her hair? Seemed a little too intimate even for the best friends.

"It isn't the worth deal," Hange continued, seemingly not seeing Nifa's bewilderment. "I mean Levi could have demanded to let him clean my apartment. He always complains that my sheets are too dirty."

How in the world Levi knew about the state of Hange’s sheets? There was only one possible explanation for this…

“So you and Levi are seeing each other?” Nifa finally asked. Screw the less direct approach. It clearly wasn’t working.

“Um, yes?” Hange frowned. “I do see Levi a lot. I mean we live in the same apartment complex and we often hang out after work, so…”

Nifa barely kept herself from groaning out loud. These two were impossible! She thought she was an expert in human interactions but these were terrifyingly complicated for her to figure out. They were either actually dating or they were the most oblivious people in existence. And Nifa suspected that the latter was, unfortunately, true.

"I... I have a lot of work," Nifa smiled apologetically and hopped off the table. The intricacies of relationship between Levi and Hange were causing her a headache.

“What did she mean by ‘seeing each other’?” Hange muttered to herself. “I know that Levi is short, but he’s not that small. Was that a hint that I should check my vision?” she wondered, putting her glasses back on her face and returning to her work.

*** 

"Why are you dressed like a snobby douche?" Connie asked Jean, as the latter approached him and Sasha. It was the evening of a Halloween party, and everyone gathered in the dimly lit and sparsely decorated with cobwebs and pumpkins main room, chatting among themselves.

"I'm Dracula, you idiot," Jean scoffed. "Besides, what are you even supposed to be?" he looked at Connie's face and body, covered in toilet paper. He plucked his lips in disgust. "Toilet monster?"

"Hey!" Connie cried out, while Sasha snickered in her palm. "I'm a mummy!"

Jean decided not to dignify it with a response.

"And you?” he turned to Sasha. “You are red riding hood, right?"

"Yes!" Sasha beamed. "Look! I even have a basket! Trick or treat, Jean!"

Sasha proudly showed him the aforementioned basket. It was full of sandwiches.

Jean sighed.

"Did you choose this costume just so you could sneak more food in here?"

"Maybe," Sasha shrugged, taking out one of the sandwiches and taking a bite. "Want some?"

"Um, no, thanks. Even if I wanted to," which he did not. Trying to separate Sasha and food was a dangerous affair. Jean had learned it firsthand. "I can't really eat with these things," he opened his mouth, showing them his fake fangs.

"Wow," Connie grinned. "There is even blood on them! Can I touch it?"

"No way!" Jean took a step back, putting his hands forward.

“Hey, look, look," Sasha tugged at Jean and Connie's arms. "Eren, Mikasa and Armin came."

"What the fuck." Jean stared at Eren, his hands clutching into fists. "That asshole, what the fuck is he wearing?"

"Oh, Jean, I think," Connie patted his shoulder. "Eren is Van Helsing."

"He is!" Sasha agreed, pointing at the wooden stake in Eren's hand.

"Motherfucker," Jean growled. "He knew I was going to dress as a vampire!"

"Calm down," Connie rolled his eyes. "And don't start another fight. At least wait until we're out of office."

"You can always beat him up in the parking lot!" Sasha giggled.

“Or, more probably, Mikasa will beat both of you up in the parking lot,” Connie mocked with a shit-eating grin. Sasha cheerfully high-fived him.

“Shut up, you idiots,” Jean gave them both a smack upside their heads. “I fucking hate that jerk," he muttered, glaring at Eren.

"His costume is nice, though," Connie noted.

"His mother probably helped to prepare it," Sasha nodded. "Armin looks adorable!" she added. "That Peter Pan costume suits him so much!"

"Looks like Mikasa isn't a fun of Halloween, though," Connie continued. "I mean what is she even supposed to be?"

"Maybe, a ghost?" Sasha offered, looking at Mikasa's white shirt and long skirt.

"If she wasn't constantly glued to Eren's side," Jean began bitterly. "I would have asked her to be my Morticia Addams."

"She would rock that look," Sasha said with a dreamy smile. "Although, you're nearly not as handsome as Gomez."

"Hey!" Jean protested. "I would have been great as Gomez. And you," he smirked. "You could have been Wednesday and Pugsley."

"Eugh," Sasha and Connie exclaimed in unison.

"Now I'm kinda glad that Mikasa rejected you," Sasha told him truthfully.

"Shut up,” Jean mumbled.

"By the way," Sasha opened another sandwich and started eating it. "Did any of you see Historia? I'm curious what is she wearing. Her costumes are always so cute!"

"She's dressed as Princess Leia," Connie replied. "She even has her own Han Solo."

"Let me guess," Jean said. "It's Ymir?"

"Of course, it's Ymir. Although, calling her Han Solo may be a stretch, she's just wearing her usual work clothes, but now she also put a vest on."

"Ah, I want to come and say hi!" Sasha announced with her mouth still full of sandwich. "Where have you seen them, Connie?"

Connie made a face. "Last time I saw them, Ymir was dragging Historia to a supply closet, so..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I don't think they'll come out soon."

"Oi, look," Jean pointed at the entrance door. "That's Miss Hange."

"What is she supposed to be?" Connie scratched his neck, frowning in confusion. "Some kind of scientist?"

"No, she's Frankenstein," Jean replied.

"Now how did you guess that?" Connie asked, glaring up at Jean.

Jean didn't say anything, just showed Connie who was accompanying Hange.

"Oh." Connie breathed out.

"Oh!" Sasha exclaimed. "Who is that?”

Jean sighed.

“Sasha, pay attention please. Look at that guy’s height.”

“No way!” Sasha’s eyes widened. “It’s Mr. Ackerman?”

“I didn’t take him for a guy, who dresses up for a Halloween,” Connie mused.

“Neither did I,” Jean agreed.

“Hey, if they came together, does that mean they’re dating?” Sasha cocked her head to the side, observing the strange couple.

“Don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “I thought it was just some kind of a running joke.”

“Let’s go to them!” Sasha wrapped her arms around Jean and Connie’s shoulders, pushing them in the direction of Levi and Hange.

“Are you insane?” Jean hissed. “What are you even going to say to them?”

If Miss Hange was by herself, Jean wouldn’t have minded approaching her. She was nice, and really funny. Mr. Ackerman, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Whenever their eyes met, Jean felt an acute desire to hide under the table. Levi’s cold gaze terrified him.

“We won’t be talking to them,” Sasha assured him, leading them through the crowd of people. “I just want to take a better look. Mr. Ackerman’s make-up is amazing!”

Well, it was hard to argue with that. Levi wore a torn shirt and large jacket. His face was painted green with a few black stitches added on the side of his forehead. Jean had to admit, his costume was actually impressive. And Miss Hange, who was dressed in a white lab coat, which was purposefully dirtied with red and pink specks that were probably meant to represent the blood and parts of brain, with her big round glasses, crazy hair and even crazier grin, was a perfect Frankenstein. 

“Just be quiet,” Jean warned his friends, as they stopped a little distance away from Hange and Levi. “I don’t want to get in trouble with Mr. Ackerman.”

Connie and Sasha nodded and then the three of them turned their gazes at Frankenstein and her monster.

Hange and Levi stood in a corner, holding plastic cups in their hands. Hange was talking about something, energetically gesticulating. Her hands moved so wildly it looked like soon she’d spill the contents of her cup on the floor. Levi sighed and took the cup out of her hands. Hange smiled gratefully.

“Wait,” she stopped her rant and turned to face Levi. “Your make-up is smudged,” she reached out and moved her thumb across his cheekbone, gently wiping the paint.

“Of course, it’s smudged,” Levi grumbled with annoyed face. “It’s hot as fuck in here. Why there are so many people?”

“Because our firm is big?” Hange offered with a tiny grin.

Levi tsked. “Smartass. By the way, when was the last time you cleaned your glasses? I can see nothing but your fingerprints, four-eyes,” he plucked them off her face, scowling in disgust. Tugging at Hange’s coat, Levi used it to clean her glasses. Hange didn’t even try to protest, just watched Levi’s ministrations with an affectionate smile.

Jean, Connie and Sasha stared at them with wide eyes.

“They act so…” Connie began and then faltered.

“Domestic,” Jean finished for him. “Geez, they really are together.”

“I’ve never thought I’d say this about Mr. Ackerman,” Sasha admitted. “But they look adorable.”

“They do,” Connie agreed.

“C’mon,” Jean took Sasha and Connie by their sleeves. “Let’s leave them alone. I still need to settle a score with Eren.”

 ***

"Ymir, stop it," Historia hissed, trying to shake her girlfriend's hands off her waist. "People are watching."

"Let them watch," Ymir smirked, putting her chin on top of Historia's head. "They're just envious."

"You're insufferable," Historia huffed. She raised her head to press a kiss on Ymir's jaw. "Why do I even put up with you?"

"Because I'm hot? Because I'm hilarious? Because I'm excellent in bed?"

"Ymir!" A pretty blush appeared on Historia's cheeks. Ymir mentally patted herself on a head.

"Babe," she drew out, leaning to kiss behind Historia's earlobe. Ymir's hot breath made shivers run down her neck. "Let's ditch this party and go back to that closet. I'm so bored here."

"But look around!" Historia exclaimed, trying to ignore the growing desire inside her. "Everyone is dressed so nicely!"

"I don't really care, you know."

"You should," Historia muttered with a small pout. "Our friends came up with really original costumes!"

Ymir scoffed. "Kirschtein is dressed as Dracula. And Mikasa is the worst ghost I've ever seen. She could have put at least some effort."

"You're the one to talk," Historia rolled her eyes. "Putting on a black vest doesn't make you Han Solo."

"The costume itself doesn't matter, when I have the most important thing," Ymir lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. "My pretty Princess Leia."

"And our superiors picked cool outfits as well," Historia continued, ignoring Ymir. She wouldn't let her break her resolve so easily. They came to enjoy the party, not make out in supply closets. Even if the latter option started to look more and more appealing to Historia.

"Mr. Smith came as Indiana Jones!" she pointed at the tall blonde. "Doesn't he look handsome?"

"Yeah," Ymir replied unenthusiastically.

"And Mr. Zacharias! He's dressed as Thor!"

Ymir tilted her head, staring at Mike critically. He wore a cheap looking blonde wig and something that looked like more like red blanket than actual cape. "He's a mighty god of thunder, indeed," she deadpanned.

Historia ignored her once again.

"Miss Nanaba looks so pretty," she mused instead.

This time Ymir couldn't disagree. Nanaba was probably supposed to be Jack Skellington. And while the white make-up on her face was ridiculous, the suit fitted her perfectly, accentuating every curve of her thin but muscled body.

"What," Historia teased. "No sarcastic comment?"

Ymir shrugged. "You know how much I love women in suit."

"Asshole," Historia muttered, rolling her eyes.

“That's why you love me, babe."

Sometimes Ymir was so annoying, Historia thought as she stared at her cocky grin. It made her want to kiss her, just so she could wipe that smug expression off her face.

"I don't see Miss Hange by the way," Historia looked around in confusion. "I wanted to see her costume so much..."

Again, Ymir agreed with her girlfriend on that one. Hange was a lunatic, there was no denying that, and her excited energy was truly draining, but she was funny. Most of all, Ymir enjoyed watching Hange bicker with Levi, that permanently scowling midget. It was nice to see that shorty grit his teeth in annoyance, as Hange continuously teased him.

"Nifa told me that her costumes are always amazing," Historia hanged her head. "And Mr. Ackerman is absent as well..."

Well, that wasn't surprising in a slightest. Levi was definitely not the type to come to office parties.

"Forget about them. It's Halloween," Ymir kissed Historia’s cheek, trying to cheer her up. "I need my treat."

"You are really needy, are you aware of that?" Historia asked with a stern expression.

Ymir shrugged. Sure, she loved receiving attention from her super-hot girlfriend. If that made her needy, then so be it.

"That's a yes to a second round of make out session in the closet?"

Historia frowned, biting her lip. "What if this time someone catches us?"

"Who could catch us? I doubt that other interns will need that closet, unless Kirschtein and Yeager suddenly decide to let out their frustration with each other in a more productive manner than just screaming and waving their fists around. And everyone else here is clearly too boring and old to indulge in such activities."

"Fine," Historia finally surrendered. "But we won't stay there for long. I want to chat with some of our friends afterwards."

Ymir certainly didn't share the same sentiment, but, well, love is built on compromises, right?

She grabbed Historia by the hand, leading her to a closet with a wide grin on her face. Turning her around and holding her face between her palms, Ymir kissed her on the lips. With her back against the door, she pushed it open with her leg.

Historia froze.

"Babe?" worry reflected in Ymir's eyes, as she stared at her. Did she do something wrong?

Historia said nothing, just frantically pulled Ymir closer and then quietly closed the door. She didn't stop, and with her hands wrapped still around Ymir, Historia dragged her as far from the closet as possible.

"Hey, hey, what's up?" Ymir was barely able to keep up with Historia's hurried steps.

"There was someone in the closet," Historia whispered with a terrified expression.

"Someone?" Ymir frowned. "Who?"

"I don't know, I didn't get a good look, and the costumes really made it hard to recognize the faces," she pushed a stray lock behind her hair, her gaze darting around nervously.

"What were the costumes?" Ymir asked impatiently. Oh, she wanted to know who was making out in the closer so much! If she finds out, she'd tease that couple so hard!

"I... I think it was Frankenstein and his monster? I definitely saw a white coat and a green make-up.”

"Frankenstein and his monster?" Ymir snickered. "If I knew that the book portrayed that side of their relationship, I would have read it in high school."

"Ymir!" Historia scolded, smacking her forearm.

"Wait..." Ymir drew her eyebrows together, thinking. She scanned the crowd of her co-workers, checking her theory. "There are only two people who are absent from the party..."

"No way..." Historia breathed out, coming to the same conclusion. "Are you trying to say that it was Miss Hange and Mr. Ackerman?"

"Well, it looks that midget is getting his treat this Halloween. Good for him," Ymir said cheekily. "Let's go and tell these nerds about it."

"You want to tell everyone?" Historia looked at her worriedly. She looked so cute with her pursed lips and that little frown, Ymir's heart skipped a beat.

"Sure," she replied nonchalantly, trying to hide from Historia the fact that just a moment ago she was staring adoringly at her. "It's not like it'd be a secret to anyone. The way they constantly looked at each other, it was only a matter of time before they got their shit together."

"Alright, but let's not tell them how we found them in a supply closet."

"You're too kind," Ymir sighed, throwing a hand over Historia's shoulder. "But if you don't want to make them jealous, so be it."

Historia rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist the desire to press a swift kiss in the corner of Ymir's smirk. "Let's go already."

***

When almost half an hour later, Levi and Hange came back to the party, all eyes were on them. Hange's hair was in bigger state of disarray than usual and Levi's lips were red and swollen.

"I helped Levi fix the make-up," Hange explained, when they joined Erwin, Mike and Nanaba.

"Isn't a closet a little dark for that?" Erwin asked with a smirk. Beside him Nanaba and Mike could barely held in their laughter.

Levi's blush was visible even under the green paint. Hange nervously chuckled. None of them tried to deny it though. 

Erwin, Mike and Nanaba counted it as a success. 

[thebadchoicemachine]

SBI HadesTown AU That Lives In My head Rent Free

(in fact I probably pay it to live there)

Links at the end under the cut.

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Starring:

• Dream, George, and Sapnap as The Fates  • Philza as Hermes • Wilbur as Persephone  • Technoblade as Hades • Tommy as Eurydice

and

• Tubbo as Orpheus

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Changes to the story - 

Instead of spouses, Wilbur and Techno are estranged brothers.

Instead of lovers, Tommy and Tubbo are best friends.

The focus is still on restoring balance to the world but through familiar and platonic love instead of romantic. Also, the reason the world is so bad is a more social crisis (some people work too much while others can’t work at all) instead of a natural one (the seasons being wack.) 

It takes place during a seething summer drought rather than a frozen cropless winter but its still the same tune of spring/fall disappearing because the the world being out of tune. 

Character Changes -

+ Philza is an old god. He’s not weaker nor stronger than Wilbur/Techno, just fills up a very different role. He’s god of history, of legends, of simple stories and narration. He’s very human compared to most gods, some theorize perhaps he straight up IS human in some way shape or form. He lives a human life to meet people and collect their lives and stories and appreciate them. He can’t really interfere as more than a mortal man but still just tries to give as many happy endings as he can.

+ Tommy’s a scrappy lost child. His problem is similar to Eurydice but a little inverted. Rather than learning to trust people he needs to learn to value them. He’s no issue with interacting with people and enjoying their help/company but he’s a tendency to use them. He doesn’t believe they’ll stick around so he doesn’t bother caring about them.

+ Tubbo is also an abandoned child. Unlike Tommy he grew up in one spot, although still homeless. Philza found him camping in a crate box behind his station and gave him a job and a bed. He’s pretty much exactly like Orpheus, optimistic, sees the world for what it could be instead of what it is, but maybe spends a little too much time looking forward and not around.

+ Technoblade is basically the god of work and motivation. His problem is generally the same as Hades’ in that he misses his family and is too busy working and building security for what he wants to get what he wants. He misses his brother so much he’s hardend himself to the reasons they’re apart so much in the first place.

+ Wilbur is basically the god of play and rest. In this AU, instead of Hades, Persephone’s role is the biggest reason the world is out of wack. His problem is that he doesn’t face his problems. As the god of such frivolous things as music, games, rest, etc. he is (feels) weak and useless. He’s jealous of Techno and how needed he is so Wilbur retreats away to somewhere he feels needed and wanted, entertaining miserable people. He’s stayed away for longer and longer amounts of time, not realizing his distracting them from their troubles (inadvertently preventing them from fixing them) is a reason they’re so miserable in the first place. All he can do is have a good time so he’s begun forcing it every second of every day and ignoring his brother in the meantime. He needs to learn that he CAN do good, people NEED breaks and fun, but recklessly enforcing it only enforces what he fears, that he’s a liability. 

So, the main problem is a cycle the brothers have spiraled into:

Techno does obviously important things (stirring progress and improvement) and Wilbur feels bad, unimportant, and like a burden.

Wilbur leaves Techno to go distract himself/play with the humans.

Wilbur becomes useless and detrimental without Technoblade there to balance him out.

Techno works even harder, becoming empty and cold without Wilbur there to balance him out, trying to get enough work done so Wilbur won’t have to worry and will come back.

Wilbur sees Techno working so hard and shies away even more so as not to disturb his brother’s important work.

Technoblade has to basically force Wilbur to stay with him now, making it more work.

Wilbur sees Technoblade as both too important for him and now generally unappealing as unnecessary effort. Besides, he’d probably just get in the way.

Technoblade now sees Wilbur as just another part of his endless job. Keep people working, keep things improving, keep the numbers going up, try to keep Wilbur here. Its become work for the sake of work instead of work to the sake of rest.

So even when they’re together neither is relaxed enough to balance the other, both are distant.

Wilbur’s become too carefree, he ignores Technoblade and drops anything that seems challenging, including reconciliation and self-examination. He’s still just playing, even when with Technoblade.

Technoblade’s become too obsessed, focusing more on how to get and keep his brother with him than on being with his brother. The work has become meaningless without the end goal that Wilbur provides. A self sustaining cycle of labor for more labor’s sake.

Now the humans are suffering because they find themselves trapped in an unbalanced cycle of being either incapable of work or incapable of play.

Thematic notes:

- The dancers in the station during the first half are Skeppy, Antfrost, Bad, Eret, and Puffy. 

- The workers (the dancers in the second half) consist of Niki, Fundy, Quackity, Ranboo, and Awsam.

- Tommy is implied to vaguely know/be brotherly to Techno and Wilbur, this is partially how Techno convinces him to leave and go work for him. 

- Likewise, Philza has a few lines about feeling sorry about how Techno and WIlbur have ended up (implying he took some part in raising them) and already knows Tommy when he enters (implying he’s been a dad to helped Tommy out before.

- Technoblade is less malicious than Hades, more just cold and apathetic. In a way, he thinks he’s helping by pulling Tommy away from Tubbo. He, like Wilbur, believes that work is good so more work must be better, even if you’ve nothing to really work towards. At the end he listens to the fates because needs to figure out how to let Tommy go without undoing either all of Wilbur’s power or all of his. 

- Tubbo’s song has a bigger impact on fauna than floral, specifically insects. His first song brings out bees, butterflies, and moths that Tommy goes all star eyed for because pretty bugs but more importantly, living things that don’t want to hurt him!

- Instead of a flower Tommy gets a big beautiful orange moth (named Clementine) that hides in the back of his coat neck whenever Technoblade is near. He remembers in ‘Flowers’ when he goes to wipe some sweat from his neck but its Clementine and she flies around him while he sings. (I thought that’d be much prettier than him just holding her like Eurydice holds the flower.) 

- During ‘Living it Up On Top’ Wilbur dances specifically with Philza (who greets him very much like a father might greet a son who’s been away for a long time) and Tommy (who he teases and ruffles his hair a lot).

- Wilbur does drugs instead of alcohol. He... he makes a lot of drugs so I thought this would be an appropriate swap. Also it’s really funny to me that he sings Our Lady Of The Underground (or, Brother To The Underground) just completely stoned; handing out weed and shit to the workers.

- Instead of a mine Hadestown (Technotown? Technoville?) is a farm in a giant glass case built way up high. Instead of going through the dark that challenge is Tubbo has to climb up its side to avoid the train. Its an unnatural and unwelcoming greenhouse. Everything grows in lines but they’re mismatched and overrun with thorny weeds. Everything is grey and tough and flavorless. There’s so much dust and dirt being kicked up it’s hard to breathe and see. The workers are using various gardening tools during the beats instead of swinging a pickaxe. Half will sharpen while the other half swings (tilling the ground/cutting weeds), it makes a real nice schwing/thunk mix sound. 

- During ‘Word To The Wise’ George sings (“if you tell them no you’re a heartless man”) Sapnap sings (“if you let ‘em go you’re a spineless king”) and Dream sings (”here’s a little tip”) and (“men are fools, men are frail”)

- Tubbo still looks back during ‘Doubt Comes In’ because he's scared of Techno and feels bad about himself (“Who am I? Who am I to think that he would follow me into the blazing heat again”). Techno, Wilbur, and Philza try their best to take care of them but it’s still a tragic ending. 

- Tommy and Tubbo may or may not become (very sad and minor) gods. Unofficially and not in the story, but still... maybe. If they WERE, hypothetically,  they’d be a very tragic pair. Tubbo would help mend relationships and guid people towards good advice while Tommy would help catch/ignore/cut out bad ones. Always working together, never together. 

Lyrical Changes 

> Pronouns are changed, obviously.

> Techno and Wilbur sing “brother” instead of “lover.”

> During ‘The Wedding Song’ (The Friendship Song, I do not care if it’s childish, Wedding is replaced with Friendship) They sing each other’s names instead of “lover.” (Tubbo, tell me if you can...////Tommy, when I sing my song...)

> Anytime they’re complaining about the cold winter replace it with a hot summer

> Tommy’s lines are much sharper. He never loses his edge with Tubbo. Instead of him remembering him and going “my best friend, Tubbo” he remembers and says something more along the lines of “that fucking idiot, Tubbo” but he’s say it with a quivering smile and bittersweet tears in his eyes. Harsh in words not in tone. 

> Wilbur still pours a glass for a toast during ‘Living It Up On Top’ but the rest of the time he’s smoking something instead of drinking. (Who gives breaks when the work is hard?//That's right, Wilbur Soot!//Who makes the music? Who’s your bard?//(Wilbur Soot!)//Thank you//Who makes a rough life fun again, in spite of a pig//(You do!)//Who’s the most awaited gig? Eh? Wilbur Soot, that’s who!)

> When Wilbur shows up during ‘Chant’ he complains about how cold and dark it is. (Colder than a tundra) Techno explains it away as having set up shades/coolers to counter the glare from the sun through greenhouse glass and how he did it to protect/comfort Wilbur. (Brother when you feel that chill, it’s my protection from the kill, its my protection that i’ve built for you.)

> In the Chant Reprise the workers are singing about why they’re working if they can never enjoy the security and safety they keep making. Technoblade, instead of telling him to buy Tommy’s love, tells him to make himself needed. He, instead of warning Tubbo about Tommy leaving, scolds Tubbo for being too light and fluffy and spinelessly letting Tommy go. He scolds him for trying to take Tommy away, back into uselessness and empty fluff, when he’s found a good purpose because clearly Tubbo wasn’t point enough. 

> Philza’s still the narrator, but diegetically his lyrics show more clearly that he knows everyone in the story already. I really like the idea of him giving Tubbo advice on making friends that gets shown in ‘Come Home With Me’

> When Tubbo sings about Techno, instead of singing about minework, he’ll sing things like ((from the second stanza of Epic II) “Technoblade, king//of power and pain//of a hard days work//that never ends//and for half of the year when Wilbur’s away//the strain and the stress just won’t give way//he thinks of his brother, light and carefree//and is taken in a rage of obligation and need//to ensure wants are met and safe//so there will be time for play//so his bother//his brother comes home) 

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This post all started because I was thinking of Tubbo singing the “La lala laaa” that was originally Wilbur’s song. 

Also, I realize this entire AU is just one big punch in the gut to Philza, like, “HEY, ALL YOUR SONS ARE SCREWED UP, NOW SING ABOUT IT.”

[socratoteles]

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor. 

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

[infernwetrust]

The Hotbox [Jim Mason x Duncan Shepherd]

Summary: A little look into how Jim and Duncan handle stress.

Warnings: smut, rough smut, fluff, drug use, apply tags as you see fit

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what was going through my head as I wrote this, but I committed to it. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by queenxxxsupreme

Duncan laid in bed in his birthday suit, an arm behind his head. Laid with his head against Duncan's chest was Jim, also in his birthday suit. The two snuggled closely together, barely paying attention to the horror movie that was on the TV in front of them. Duncan with his free hand, scrolled through his Twitter feed, Jim occasionally glancing between his phone and the TV.

Marijuana smoke created a thick haze in their master bedroom, the smell calming for both of them. Today was a rough day, for the both of them. And for rough days, there was the nightly hotbox. It consisted of just Jim and Duncan, bare. No exceptions. They'd smoke until they were high off their asses or their lungs tapped out. Snacks and drinks were kept nearby for when the munchies struck.

The rules were simple. There were none. The only thing that could save them from each other's wrath in the hotbox was their safe word "Indica". Aside from their safe word, they could be as ruthless as they wanted to be, as they needed to be. Degrading names, within reason of course, rougher play than what Duncan usually brings to the bedroom. His chest was covered in purple and red bruises and scratches from when him and Jim first laid down. Jim was beyond agitated when he got home and it caught Duncan off guard when he had busted through the front door almost knocking the pictures off the walls.

It wasn't all rough play during this time, however. Sometimes their sweetest and most vulnerable sides came out and they'd make love to each other, slowly, round after round after round until one of them were to sleepy to continue. It was usually Duncan.

"Hotbox?" Duncan questioned as Jim stormed passed him

"Hotbox." Jim responded through a clenched jaw, quickly glancing back at Duncan.

And while Duncan had had his own frustrations with work today, it didn't cause him to come home the way Jim did and he automatically knew that he was Jim's for the night. That was a battle he knew he wasn't going to win. Although the roles were clearly defined, Duncan has subbed for Jim a couple of times. In fact, Jim is his first partner that he's ever switched for and he enjoyed it. Sometimes age really was just a number. Jim always fucked Duncan with the stamina he had in his younger years. Rough, fast, and sloppy, it made him a mess underneath Jim every time and that's how the both of them learned that Duncan was really vocal in the bedroom.

Tired of laying around, Jim got up suddenly, firmly pushing his hands into Duncan's chest as leverage, causing him to grunt. He watched as Jim walked across the room, bare-assed. He picked up the leftover joint they had tapped out on, placing it between his lips before reaching for a lighter and lighting it. He casually walked into their walk-in closet, grabbing one of his favorite ties that Duncan wore before walking back over to the bed. He snatched Duncan's phone out of his hand, tossing it wherever.

"Put this on." he said, throwing his tie at him and snatching the sheets off of him. "Lay the other way. Spread for me. Can you do that for me, Mr. Shepherd?"

Duncan nodded, quickly putting his tie on, tightening it just the way Jim liked around his neck, causing Jim to grin. One knee on the bed, he set himself comfortably between Duncan's legs, joint still hanging from his lips as he exhaled. He briefly removed it to lick his hand, grabbing and squeezing Duncan's length. Duncan sighed at the sudden contact of Jim's warm and wet hand, throwing one of his arms behind his head again.

"I swear you fucking trust-fund babies." Jim spat as he stroked Duncan at a painfully slow pace, still squeezing him. Duncan began chewing on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next. To see his sweet ocean eyes be so condescending was more than a turn on. "Think your so fucking entitled to shit just because you have a little bit of money?"

"A little bit of money?" Duncan managed to get out between his heavy breaths, a small laugh behind his tone. Before Duncan could even take his next breath, Jim had has hand wrapped underneath Duncan's jaw, fingers digging in just a little bit to create that pressure that drove Duncan insane even though it made him mostly light headed. It forced his vision to just focus directly on Jim, ignoring all the other surroundings in the room.

"I didn't say you could speak, now did I?" Jim questioned, squeezing a bit harder.

"N-no." Duncan struggled to get out, lust in his hazy eyes. "But it's funny that you think that-," Jim's palm was already against the side of Duncan's cheek before Duncan could even finish his sentence.

"Always seeking a challenge huh?" Jim questioned again amused, letting up and going back to stroking Duncan painfully slow but with a menacing pressure. "Talk so damn much, so controlling, but you just want someone to fill both of your holes? Isn't that right?" With every word that Jim spoke, Duncan twitched in his hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jim picked up the pace quickly watching as Duncan threw his head back, biting down on his lip hard, a series of loud moans escaping from his mouth.

"Don't have any answers for me now do you, huh?" Jim mocked, rubbing at his own length. "Sigh. You fuck-faces never have an answer to anything. Maybe I should go around not giving answers too. I'll just swing my dick around, giving out stupid little flashy smiles, holding fake conversations so people like me better. Just like a little bitch." Duncan squirmed underneath Jim, thrusting upwards to meet Jim's frantic and wild pace. He could barely hang on with how soaked Duncan was from his spit-slicked hand and his own pre-cum. Surprisingly Duncan didn't last long with Jim 'chewing' him out like that.

"Pathetic." Jim said as he stroked Duncan out, watching as his cum painted his stomach and chest, Duncan moaning Jim's name with every squirt. Jim grabbed the end of Duncan's tie, using all of his strength to pull him up from the bed and closer to him.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Duncan mumbled, still a horny mess as he looked him right in his eyes. He was practically begging for Jim through his fake "I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna show you just how sorry you can really be." He tightened Duncan's tie even tighter before pushing him back down on the bed and climbing over him. This was just the beginning of their night in The Hotbox.

But where was all this coming from? Despite Duncan letting Jim know that he didn't have to work and that he would always be taken care of, Jim still persisted, wanting something to do during the day. So he took up a part time job as customer service rep at a t-shirt shop on the board walk, owned by a friend's family. Jim loved his job to put it simply. And his boss and fellow co-workers loved him. He was a positive influence around the shop. Extremely friendly and optimistic, he kept everyone laughing and boosted morale. A master at the art of platonic flirting, most days he's stand outside the shop, with his shirt off or in one of the store branded tank-tops. He didn't even have to say much. People flocked to him naturally, drawn in not only by looks but his gentle persona.

He became a favorite around the boardwalk. Often people would stop to take pictures with him and he quickly became the social media ambassador for the shop's Instagram page. Duncan was also a favorite in the shop, sporting some of the graphic tees that they had to offer. On the days he would pick Jim up from work, they would almost always leave an hour after Jim was off, caught up in good conversation with the store manager or the store owner, his arm wrapped around Jim as he spoke.

But there was just this one guy Jim didn't get along with. Max. A super well-known rich kid, for all the wrong reasons, he got on Jim's nerves anytime the two worked together. Overly confident, overly cocky, but yet so fucking lazy barely helping out around the store or picking and choosing his tasks. He always got off easy, his parents having countless amounts of money to get their sweet baby boy out of trouble. It drove Jim insane. Today at work they had gotten into it real bad, throwing insults back and forth, almost resulting in an actual fist fight, broken up by Jim's close friend who also happened to work with him. By the time his left he was so heated and was missing Duncan extra this evening, so he was relieved when Duncan immediately offered the Hotbox when he entered the house.

Jim fucked Duncan relentlessly against every surface in their bedroom, not letting up at all, taking pleasure from hearing Duncan's bitchy whines and moans as he stretched him out thrust after thrust. The both of them now covered chest to abdomen in purple and red bruises. Duncan scratched and clawed at Jim, leaving hickeys wherever he could, which sadly meant that Jim couldn't have his shirt off at work tomorrow. The scratches down the side of his arms and back were easier to explain, so a tank top would have to do. With Duncan it was free reign, considering the dress code for his work office. He didn't care if they were visible on his neck, he showed them off proudly. Already an established man in life, he had no fears about his future.

"You know I didn't mean all that shit I said tonight right?" Jim asked, looking back at Duncan as they sat together in their bath. Duncan had his head rested against the wall, glass of whiskey on ice in his hand, staring back at Jim.

"I know." Duncan chuckled. "Trust me, I know, but it was so damn sexy hearing you say it because well you're not wrong." He wrapped his free hand that rested on the side of the tub around Jim, holding him close.

"Plus, I didn't really have any one to put me in my place during my younger years." he winked. "Also was a bit condescending and entitled, but hey, it got me ass left and right."

"You're terrible." Jim laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Duncan's jaw. "Cute, but terrible. And you want to know the sad part? I'd probably be right there in your lineup."

"I wouldn't let you be. You're not like everyone else, ocean eyes. You mean the world to me and I wouldn't forgive myself if I just tossed you to the side."

"I love you s'much, Dunc."

"But I mean if you're willing to give up that a-,"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, sir."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction​ @theneverendinghunger​

[bozowrites]

Dare to Care

Imagine

↳ There is always going to be a drift in society and no one can fix it. 

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki × Fem!Reader

TW: None.

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 1 // more to come...

A/n: I have a lot of asks but I got rlly inspired to write this last night. It’ll be multiple parts so if u actually like this u can be added to the taglist, just comment or dm me or whatever. Love you, darlings! 💞

In our society, there are separations whether we like them or not. There is absolutely nothing you can do about it. And that’s what sucks. I want nothing more than to patch up the hole that was put between us and them. To fix the broken world that we’ve come to call home. It isn’t home. Nowhere is home when all is broken around you, and I’ve come to terms with that.  

There are the heroes, the civilians and the villains. Then there’s the rich, the middle-class and the poor. Simple words can create a huge drift in society.  

Some think they are above others for the simple fact they have a title. A hero. A well-known hero that all love and adore. And then some rich think they are better for the reason is they have money; they have the power to do whatever they want because of that money. Money buys you the things you need, even love, apparently.  

I grew up to solely believe this. I was beneath them and they were above all. I worked for what I needed as they got handed their things on silver platters.  

My mother worked two jobs on minimum wage every day and made just enough to pass us buy. Some stood pretty for a camera and made thousands—millions even! It’s ridicules, really. Or, maybe, that's just jealousy speaking.  

All I want is to be known as someone for working hard and give my single, hard-working mom, a break. To rest and never stress again. To take care of her. To never let her fear of being too little for me. I want to be her hero.  

“How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t order the this.” The woman of high-class spoke rudely. “I’m sorry, ma'am, but that’s what the receipt and your waiter told me.” Her lips scowl and her growl is more evident. This restaurant is full of people like her. Spoiled brats. “Well your waiter is wrong!” I sighed, losing grip of my temper slowly.

“Perhaps, one of the men behind you ordered it,” I said slowly, gesturing to the three men in matching tuxedos behind her. “You did leave the table to talk with a friend, I do believe. Just enough time for one of them to order something behind your back.” My tone was impatient and I knew this was no way to act, but people like her hit all the wrong nerves.

“Are you using that tone with me? And disrespecting my brothers?!” The pit of anger in the bottom of my stomach started bubbling. She thought she was so much better because her dad owned some company and held high status. She didn’t, just her father. He made the life he did through his hard-work, she just feeds off his hard-earned prize.  

And that’s what disgusts me.  

“Dear, they need you in the kitchen, I’ll take care of the rest.” Miss Masmai said with a gentle hand on my shoulder. She always did that. When someone was angry or upset in any way, she put a hand on their shoulder and spoke with a gentle tone. She was this sweet lady, near her fifties, who worked alongside her brother in this restaurant.  

“Thank you, miss.” I gave a knowing nod and left to the kitchen. It was obvious my anger was rising and Miss Masami knew that. She always saw right through me. I don’t know how, though I wish I did.  

“L/n, get angry again?” My co-corkers always did that. I was known to get angry quickly. I’d accepted that a long time ago, though it doesn’t feel good hearing people say it constantly. “Shut it, Tsukishima.” The tall blonde only smirked and continued away at cooking.  

My body felt exhausted. It was hard being an adult. I knew that since I was just a little girl. I didn’t get to play house and make endless friends—no—I spent every night crying in bed, hearing my mom mutter through the thin walls of how to pay the bills, how to feed me, how to get through the next month. It was painful. I always felt the drift between society and me grow. My life became consumed by the thoughts of suffering and never getting by. I let my little mind think that money divided everyone, I still believe it. Most people I meet do too.  

“L/n, can I speak to you?” I glanced over to Mister Masami. He has this dark glare. Unlike his sister, he holds no patience and doesn’t believe in second chances. Because of his sister, and only because of her, I’ve lasted as long as I have. He says I have anger issues. I don’t. It’s my lack of social skills mixed with bottled up fear and frustration.  

“Mister Masami? How may I help you?” I asked nicely, though he and I both know it was forced. He and I were never on good terms. “You’ve reached your last straw, you’re fired. They are important people who visit nearly every week, and you disrespected them.” I scowled. “Fine. Have a nice day, Mister Masami.” As I take off the black apron and toss it at him, I muttered, “Asshole.” He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s biting his tongue to re-frame from doing so.  

As I leave through the backdoor, I can hear some co-workers chuckling and talking among themselves happily. I didn’t know if it was over my leave or for something completely different. It didn’t matter, really.

It’s nearly midnight when I finish my shift at the local café by my apartment. I work three jobs (well two now), never really having time to myself. That’s the life of a poor adult, I guess. When I reached the age to be able to work, I did. Mom didn’t like it, of course she didn’t, but it wasn’t up to her. I wanted to help. She needed my help.  

There’s a sudden cold chill in the air. I’ve walked this path a million times before and I’ve never had this fear to walk this way. The sudden uncomfortable atmosphere around me is frightening. I glanced around, only seeing the dark streets. There were only three lampposts here and each was dime, giving only small portions of light. Even the street lamps in this poor area sucked.  

“Fuck you heroes!” A voice shouted. I felt my whole-body shake. I've seen the news of villain attacks, but I’ve never been in the same area or around long enough to see the action.  

“And fuck you villains!” The supposed hero shouted back. I leant against the brick wall, trying to keep myself hidden. I could see flashes and hear the blasts close by. It was terrifying. The closer the sounds came, the more my body shook. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire neighbourhood woke up, actually, I'd be surprised if the entire neighbourhood didn’t wake up.  

The sudden flashes are crossing my eyes. The small blasts of explosions and the loud voices are ringing in my ears louder. I can feel the heat created by each and individual explosion. I don’t know if it’s the villain or the hero’s quirk, but I didn’t plan on sticking around to find out.

I let my feet run to my apartment as fast as one can, but it wasn’t enough. A cold hand grabbed my arm. I knew it wouldn’t be the hero’s, why would it be? There’s this sudden cold object put to my neck and my vision is set to a blonde staring at the villain and myself with glaring eyes.  

“Let them go, villain.” The tone he sets is cold. I can tell he doesn’t care about me. I mean nothing to a high-status hero. All he wants is to keep his legacy as a hero clean. He saved another helpless civilian, all will say. Doesn’t make him good. There could be so many other things the press and public don’t know, but all they care to see is the heroism he displays. Makes me sick.  

“Why would I? I think her blood would look real good in my hands.” Her voice is chilling to the ear and I can feel the breaths she takes. Her fingers are digging into my waist and a knife floats midair in front of my throat. I hate every part of this. Her nails are long, making blood seep through the fabric of my clothes. I can feel the warmness against my skin. It’s not a lot, but enough to hurt.  

I don’t say anything through all the banter they shout at one another. I only stand there and stare at the hero. He doesn’t spare me a glance or show worry. It really says something about himself. He doesn’t care about no one but himself. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, but I’ve come to read others through their small actions and words.  

I was so in my head; I hardly felt the gash against my cheek as the blonde hero took the villain down. My mind processed slowly as I saw him pick her off the ground, her mumbles inaudible.  

“You good?” There’s no sympathy in his voice. There’s no care or worry. It was nothing but hero intake. He has to, he was an idol to lots. And what kind of idol doesn’t ask the victim if they’re all right?  

I can only nod wordlessly. Both his and my stare are blank. He still has the villain in his grab, but there’s this shift in the atmosphere. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t take the time to question it.  

“You’re bleeding.” He said, voice rough and toneless. I touch the burning cheek. I didn’t feel the pain at the start, but the more I thought of it, the more it hurt. How did I get cut? When? Why? “Oh,” I see the blood on my fingers. My side begins to hurt too. I remember the nails and blood. I don’t think he knows and that doesn’t bother me.  

I shrugged and said, “Uh, thanks. Bye.” I turned, having nothing left to say. I know he’s staring at me. I can feel the burn of his eyes on my head. He’s probably questioning me silently.

Why didn’t I fawn over him? Why didn’t I praise him? Why didn’t I stay to speak?

Most heroes get so into it, they forget the reason they became a hero. To save people, they say at the start. But, in the end, they want the praise and only the praise. When they don’t get what they desire, things don’t always go well for those around them.  

[amphtaminedreams]

COVID-19, Negligent Manslaughter, and a Timeline of Tory Indifference

“I feel sorry for Boris Johnson. He is doing the best he can in the situation and I don’t think anybody else could have done a better job.”

[exhibit A: a gem somebody that I’m Facebook friends with reposted earlier]

It’s a sentiment that I cannot quite wrap my head around. I sit here hopeless and furious and trying to hold back tears because it’s been almost a year since England first went into lockdown and yet here we are, almost 100,000 dead, in an even worse position than we were before whilst other countries begin to slowly return to normality. It is clear to me who is to blame for this, however there are a large proportion of people who don’t want to “politicise” the actions of the PRIME MINISTER with regards to his approach towards handling a virus sweeping the country he GOVERNS. 

Typically, these kind of posts making the rounds on social media will be accompanied by some kind of photo of Boris Johnson looking somber as if to suggest that the way things have played out were beyond his control and that he is some kind of broken man beleaguered by the suffering he has, despite good intentions, inadvertently caused.

This one in particular of Johnson with his head in his hands is a staple. In reality, this is a photo taken back in 2018 whilst he was receiving flack from party members for comparing Theresa May to a suicide bomber (for her handling of Brexit, ironically) as well as from the papers due to his rumoured (now also proven, in a completely non-surprising turn of events, to be true) affair with his former aide, Carrie Symonds. 

So let’s shut this narrative-where we should feel for Boris because he’s doing his best, and apparently a better job than anybody else could’ve done in his situation- down right here. In a supposedly developed country with one of the world’s largest economies, if we’re talking by proportion, our COVID-19 death toll is up there with the worst of them. It seems that every other state figurehead (bar a small handful), and I mean almost every single one of them, is doing a better job. People love to throw figures out there about how densely populated we are to combat damning statistics as if we haven’t got just as many factors playing to our advantage, as if it’s unfair to compare our response to Germany’s or Japan’s or Singapore’s (both of which are far more densely populated) or New Zealand’s or Vietnam’s, but we are an ISLAND with world-leading technology and infrastructure and healthcare equipment and professionals and a relatively high standard of living. In what world is almost 70,000 dead in a country with abundant time and means to prepare a response reflective of said country’s leaders doing a good job?

Apparently we’re supposed to believe that Johnson feels some sense of moral responsibility for this astronomical failure. A man who refuses to acknowledge the multiple children he has fathered outside of his marriages and who has had repeatedly engaged in affairs and one-night stands throughout said marriages. A man who continued to cheat whilst his most recent wife was receiving treatment for cervical cancer, for fuck’s sake. Yep, a real stand-up guy. 

So where does this idea that Johnson must feel remorseful for this catastrophe come from? We haven’t seen a second of remorse or a hint of accountability for the lives lost from him nor any members of his cabinet. That much is really no surprise; I have this hypothesis, and it’s not a stretch, that these people do not have an ounce of empathy in their bodies. These ridiculously privileged, privately-educated individuals who have had everything handed to them their entire lives simply cannot put themselves in the shoes of the average working person and that is the problem. Unable to recognise that what distinguishes them from most others is little more than the luck of being born into wealth and the abundance of recourses and connections that has entailed throughout their lives, they see us as beneath them-as less intelligent, less driven, and thus less deserving of the status and respect they enjoy. They see us as a bunch of whining, unmotivated idiots who do not recognise the chokehold they have over our media nor the fact that everything they do is a desperate grab to keep money and power within the hands of a select group of people, an exclusive members club from which most of us are barred (just take a simple Google search and watch Jacob Rees-Mogg’s opinion of the Grenfell victims or the buried Johnson speech where he talks about how inequality is essential). They know that we will squabble amongst ourselves about who is to blame rather than wising up to the truth which is that every decision they make is fuelled by cronyism and the inability to make and follow through with difficult choices, the pandemic being no exception. The supposedly self-made elite see the life of the average working class person as having far less value than their own, and their parties actions over the last 10 years have made that very clear. 

It was in December 2019 that the first case of COVID-19 was declared to the World Health Organisation and on March the 11th that they announced they considered it as a pandemic. In Wuhan, people were dying of pneumonia in their clusters. And what was Boris Johnson doing in this time? Well for starters, here in the UK we didn’t even have a pandemic committee-Johnson had scrapped it six months before. If years of benefits cuts and defunding of the NHS in favour of funding nuclear weapon programs, keeping British troops on other people’s lands, and tax breaks for the mega corporations that donate to their party didn’t convince you that the Conservatives have little regard for human life, them getting rid of this committee-whilst a pandemic has been declared year after year as the greatest threat to mankind-should have been the first sign of trouble. As if that wasn’t enough, he also skipped five of the COBRA (meetings are made up of a cross-departmental committee put together to respond to national emergencies and PMs routinely attend those pertaining to crises on the scale of COVID-19) meetings addressing the situation. Whilst other countries were closing their borders and stocking up on PPE, Johnson and his ministers were selling PPE abroad and simply telling people to wash their hands to the length of the tune of happy birthday. Their only policy was one of “herd immunity”, which was in fact not a policy but just an abandonment of their party’s public duty disguised as one, intentionally obfuscated with pseudoscientific jargon.

Even thinking the absolute worst of politicians you would hope that when it came to the point where the UK’s non-response to COVID-19 was becoming an international disgrace, Johnson and his ministers would take proper protective measures if only to save face. But when they eventually seemed to do so, it became clear that the priority was not the safety of the ordinary people affected by the virus. Outsourcing their test and traces system to companies such as Serco, Sitel, Deloitte and G4S rather than public health services, Conservative ministers could not resist attempting to line the pockets of their friends and benefactors in the process. According to the Guardian, instead of reaching out to the experts or using publicly funded services to handle COVID containment measures, the Conservative party has awarded a disgusting £1.5 BILLION WORTH of contracts to businesses with explicit connections to its MPs and donors, the majority of which lack any relative experience of the tasks they’ve been trusted to carry out. Unsurprisingly, the National Audit office found that when awarding contracts relating to the production of COVID-19 protection measures and treatment needs, there was a “high-priority lane” for suppliers referred by senior politicians and officials; companies with a political referral were 10 times more likely to end up winning a government contract than those without. On top of this, it is not hard to draw a link between the late initiation of lockdown measures and preemptive openings of pubs and restaurants against scientific advice to the interests of frequent donors such as Wetherspoons owner Tim Martin. Even if one chooses to ignore the blatantly obvious correlation between the owners of the businesses whose profits were prioritised over safety concerns and the number of those owners who donate to the Conservatives, party officials at the very least were reluctant to follow the lead of many other countries in financing furlough schemes themselves and instead avoided this responsibility by using loose lockdown measures to leave it down to the discretion of small business owners, who couldn’t themselves afford to furlough staff, whether or not to stay open. 

Time and time again, as the government flounder and fuck about, favouring personal desires to keep their powerful, high-paying jobs and to satisfy the corporate allies who make this possible, blame has been shifted from the public to care homes to NHS workers and back again whilst we, the public, make the biggest sacrifices of all under the illusion that we were being guided out of this pandemic rather than lied to and thrown under the bus. Whilst the elite continue to pick and choose what rules apply to them, it’s students and the elderly and the vulnerable paying the fines and scrabbling to afford basic living costs and hoping that they don’t lose someone dear to them.

Don’t get me wrong, a large proportion of the public have contributed to the spread too with their selfishness and entitlement and the arrogance it takes to develop a sudden refusal to acknowledge basic science from experts who have studied in the field their whole lives so that they can justify their need to go to the pub (speaking of, it’s absolutely HILARIOUS how many “mental health advocates” are suddenly coming out of the woodworks on football avi Twitter after they’ve spent years calling people on mental health Twitter attention seekers). And don't get me wrong, there were inevitably going to be casualties of this pandemic. But it didn't have to spread to this many people, and there didn’t have to be so many deaths due to a lack of preparation, and this wouldn’t have been the case if it weren’t for the inherent apathy of the Conservative party towards the lives of people of lesser status than them, the reluctance to put those lives before party interests. I wish I felt like there was an end in sight, I wish there was some positive takeaway from all of this, but even now, we continue to see corners being cut with the vaccine lauded as our saving grace and anti-maskers gathering outside hospitals to chant about how “oppressive” it is to be urged to wear a bit of cloth over their faces for the short periods of time in which they leave their houses and all I can think of is the selfishness that runs like poison through our country. It makes me sick and leaves me to question desperately where we go from here. I don’t like unanswered questions, I don’t like feeling politically directionless, and I don’t like the growing fear I have about the state of the world which seems to intensify every single day. In the UK at least, it’s starting to feel like nothing will ever change-we’re told we live in a democracy and yet mainstream media is owned by the people whose interest is to keep their Conservative friends in power. The stronghold they have over print media in particular allows them to continually get away with smearing and defaming every person who comes along and seems to want to actually help ordinary people, without being challenged, to the point where the only kind of “opposition” we’re left with promises nothing but a big boss approved tactical reshuffling of the status quo (which they call “electability”); it doesn’t feel like democracy when the majority of the country are being fed misleading information and convinced against voting in their best interests. 

This is the result of that. The state we find ourselves in is the inevitable result of being manipulated into helping the elite build their protective wall whilst the rest of us scrabble to get in and step on each others heads along the way, the people inside shouting over that it’s those even more vulnerable than ourselves that are taking our places. Outside the wall, the earth is falling from beneath our feet, and instead of throwing over the ropes to help us out, the people inside are stockpiling them so they can secure their firm place above ground and then later flog the rest. How many more people have to die before we reach some kind of widespread realisation of that? Where do we go from here and what do we do? Well for one, we can stop spreading those god-fucking-awful textposts on Facebook and get our heads out of our arses. Wear our masks over and wear them over our fucking noses. Have some fucking consideration for others. Don’t wait til an issue affects you personally to give a fuck about it. AND START HOLDING THE FUCKING PRIME MINISTER AND HIS MINISTERS AND HIS ENTIRE PARTY AS WELL AS THE OPPOSITION MPS THAT HAVE SAT BY THE SIDELINES AND ALLOWED THIS TO GO ON WITHOUT PROTEST ACCOUNTABLE. That would be a good start. 

I’m so tired. Things didn’t need to be this way, and yet because of the selfishness of the few, thousands upon thousands are dead. It’s not about “throwing around blame”, it’s not about “throwing around” anything, it’s about expecting a leader to do his best to protect lives. If that is “throwing blame”, let’s get things clear, I have no issue with hurtling it torpedo style at those who handed out a death sentence to so many in this country rather than do anything that might compromise their own privilege. Honestly, pass me the shovel after and I’ll happily bury the wreckage in the ground. Who wants to join?:-)

[dirtyfilthy]

The True Story Of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer: on the limits of transparency, or why you should stop feeding your quarters into the dopamine slot machine

Gather round children, and I will tell you a tale. This story is a hundred percent true. It occurred sometime in my late twenties, which would have been in 2008 or thereabouts. I had just taken the biggest acid trip of my life, eight tabs, but of fairly weak acid, I’m guessing around 400 micrograms total or close enough. Still, it gave me exactly the experience I was looking for. We went to the beach, and as a good friend of mine used to say: “got gay with nature”. Everything had been building to this point. First we took one tab. Some weeks later: we doubled down and took two.. After another month had passed, we gobbled up a four strip. Eight tabs only seemed logical at this stage. And man…

It was exactly how you imagine acid is going to be when you’re a kid. Everything was beautiful and melting  and there were colours I don’t even have the words for.  The trees were full of fractals, the ground was a river flowing beneath my feet. The sky was bright green. The sand dunes: a brilliant purple. It was like that cheesy chroma-keying effect they used to use to represent drugs in old movies from the 60’s. I even nearly went blind staring at the sunset like some hokey old LSD urban legend. Getting gay with nature?  This was a little more than merely getting high with one of your straight friends and perhaps sucking each others cocks and then never, ever mentioning it again, this was…  I wanted to settle down with nature and build a whole new life together, I wanted to get married, buy a house, maybe even adopt a couple of children. Don’t laugh, this isn’t fucking funny. We were in love!

Anyhow, acid, drugs, beautiful uplifting experience yada-yada. The thing is, on acid you tend to get these… ideas. Crazy, completely off-the-wall, gorgeously bent ideas. And I had just had a real doozy of an acid thought.  “Why lie? Why don’t I just be exactly who I am all the time? Why not be completely and utterly transparent with everyone?”. Now this is hardly some kind of grand cosmic revelation. I think that in most individuals this would have cumulated in a simple but genuine effort to be more honest with the people around them, or maybe simply faded with the trip, but in me…

So let me preface this with a couple of things about me that will make the following point make more sense: 1) I tend to take ideas and run with them, generally off a cliff 2) I am very good with computers. To the point where I am a professional hacker these days (as in I break into systems for a living), but back then I was only a hopeful amateur. 

So in me, the way this idea came out was I decided I was going to publish my entire browser history, online, in real time. Every site I visited would be available for the whole world to see, should they wish to, seconds after I had clicked the link. I won’t bore you with the technical details, they really  aren’t that complicated -- and neither are they honestly that interesting -- but suffice to say I built the thing. I named it on a whim after a Beatles song I happened to be listening to at the time: “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”. And then it was done. Every link I visited was put in a database and displayed on a web page. It was in the form of a giant, constantly growing list, newest at the top. For general purposes of  convenience, I had colour coded everything. So all social media sites would be say, purple. Wikipedia would be blue. News was green etc. 

So one great and terrible thing about LSD is it has a way of teaching you things. This generally happens while you are tripping, or maybe afterwards when you re-integrate the experience. In this case, acid had decided Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was the to be the terrible form my teacher took. And boy howdy, it would certainly teach me some lessons 

So I told all my friends about it. And they told their friends. And then word began to spread. And so I embarked on this slightly weird experiment in radical personal transparency, bouncing down the road like a complete asshole with nary a care in the world, full of hope in the promise of the dream, but I was to very quickly to discover it’s limits… 

The first limit should have been the most obvious one. Porn. At the end of a hard days labour avoiding working, I liked nothing more than masturbating for a solid three or four hours over the choicest and rarest sweet-meats the internet had to offer, before eventually collapsing on my bed from sheer sexual exhaustion. The thing is… porn is a very personal thing. I mean: what really spins your wheels, what you get off to. At the time, I wasn’t ready to admit to my friends that I still really liked women ok but sometimes when the mood struck me I liked to watch some massively hung black dude plow a white guy around half his size while fantasying that it was really m… Anyhow, porn is a deeply personal thing and can show quite a lot about someone. Besides, what if my Mum was watching… or my female friends? Sweet jesus. 

Well, if I was going to be consistent, I could either “rock out with my cock out” as we used to say back in primary school, or I could stop watching porn altogether. And that was the first lesson. Perfect transparency means constantly worrying about how you look because everyone can see everything. It means censoring, not just what you say, but who you are. it wasn’t just about porn of course. Maybe I should browse some wikipedia so I can look a bit more intelligent? What would the chick I had a crush on think if she knew I kept on visiting these horrible gore sites day after day? And so on and so forth, forever.  

I had thought it would be liberating, to be free of all secrets. In fact, it was the exact opposite. I wasn’t living a radically transparent life, instead I was an actor, just playing at performing one. 

The second revelation came in the form of the colour coding. I could see myself reflected in a sea of purple. It was obvious I had become obsessed with social media, particularly facebook. Constantly refreshing my homepage, hoping for that next sweet lick of dopamine, another little like on my post, a little sliver of ice from the great icicle of validation that would only ever melt away in the heat of the morning sun. I used to be a meth addict, and it’s exactly the same, that is: it’s never enough. You’re a fiend for it. It had revealed something deeply narcissistic and petty about myself that I really did not like. Why was I doing this? What did it matter? Did I really have three hundred “friends”? Of course not. I had the usual amount of people I cared enough about in my life to see on a semi-regular basis, a few close, ten or so I saw fairly often, maybe thirty total counting colleagues and co-workers and assorted demi-friends and vague acquaintances. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous. 

The third lesson came only after both of these things had been grating at me for quite a while. After this synthesis, suddenly, I became enlightened. There was a lot more freedom to be had by not being famous or observed. Privacy wasn’t just a haven for the liars and the hypocrites. In fact, privacy enabled you to be most truly yourself. Sure, be honest where it matters, but you don’t need to put your every card down on the table all at once. Seems like a basic enough thing to realise, but I really had to get slapped upside the head pretty hard to see it. There is a power in being invisible.

So I took down the site. Deleted my facebook. Watched all the “black tops white“ gay porn my little bisexual heart desired and, ironically, stopped caring so much what other people thought about me. Don’t get me wrong, I still get that little rush of validation when someone I respect likes my shit, but you gotta pick the individuals who’s opinion you’re gonna care about. The vast majority of most people are either dumb as fuck or completely antithetical to my values. Which isn’t to say I exactly begrudge them, but I’d still much rather avoid getting myself in a public fist fight, metaphorical or otherwise, unless I really really need to. I think in most cases, power doesn’t need to be confronted, it can simply be routed around. You don’t go and deliberately blow your weed smoke right up a cop’s nose, instead, just go get high in the disabled toilets like everybody else. I mean: it’s what they’re there for!

I guess that is the real moral of the story.

[neverheardnothing]

The Black Suits song ranking

Happy (late) Black Suits Day (eighteenth of September) y'all! Not that anyone asked but I have decided on my personal Black Suits song ranking. As always, I am very correct with my Joe Iconis music takes and will accept no criticism. Also I'm talking about 2013 here. Love yourself (and the work) and listen to 2013 instead of 2012 for better audio quality and a tighter book.

Spirit Song - I don't think anyone is surprised this is my top ranked song lol. "A melody only exists when someone hears, and the number one thing that I've learned through all my years. The fans and the family make the music strong, and the cheering is just as important as the song!" As Will describes it, it's a love letter to audiences (hey, that's me!) and when I listen to this song I'm always reminded of how much Joe believes in the message of this song, that the audience is part of the show.

Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang - [Joe Iconis voice] the language of the show. A lot of this list was influenced by not only how much I liked the song but by how well the songs functioned as extensions/expansions of the scene and the believability of that character singing the song. To me Bangx5 is one of the ultimate examples of this. The lyrics "there's a heavy metal hole where a soul used to be" like that's SO teenage angst and overdramatic just like Chris is supposed to be in this moment. I remember when I first heard the song I was like "is that it? Simple repeated [I am ___] lyrics for your act 1 finale? Seems a bit underwhelming even if it musically goes hard" but then after like another listen through of the show or so I realized that was the intention. When you're seventeen or so and you feel like your world is crashing down around you, sometimes the only way you can articulate it is "I am white boy rage, I am in a cage, I am bang bang bang bang bang bang bang." You are bang, you are loud crashing noises, your emotions are too loud and intense to be described with your limited vocabulary but you try anyways and fail. I love the contrast of the lyrics "I am chew my pens" and "I am hurt my friends" right next to each other. And the harmony at the end? Chefs fucking kiss.

Amphibian - This song is so goddamn fun. Like honestly. That’s it. Nato is chilling by himself and makes up a song about himself and his frog and it’s the best goddamn time in the show. You really get the feeling like these characters are actually friends. I love the “idiot” Nato vs “smart” Brandon. The “who cares about Beethoven. It’s a movie about a dog” joke never fails to make me laugh. When Brandon is expecting a regular bridge to the song and Nato whips out the falsetto and he goes “oh my God” like. Peak comedy here. And also Will Roland doing That? I’m in awe. Like this is what The Black Suits (the band) is, friends hanging out and having fun with music, that makes the next scene when the band formally break up so sad.

It's All Good - “So we’re cool and whatever?” It’s such a teenage boy thing to say. Like you want to acknowledge that you guys have been through something but at the same time you want to undercut it so you don’t run the risk of seeming too openly emotional. I’m also only very slightly bitter about that review that was like “oh wait so the only stakes of this show is the battle of the bands?” Like hello? Did you not see the show or listen to a single second of the finale? It’s about the way these characters communicate in their kinda inadequate ways and how they use music to express themselves. In a way it’s classic, cliche musical theater 101, with the characters unable to say what they feel with plain English so they resort to music, but of course with a Joe Iconis twist. The stakes aren’t the fucking battle of the band, it’s the friendship between the boys. It’s literally so obvious I want to scream. Anyways this song is fantastic way to end the show.

Car Ride To Long Beach - That's right. Car Ride To Long Beach is 5th place. I'm only very slightly bitter about the review that was like "is fried chicken REALLY the deciding factor in going on a drug run?" And by slightly bitter I mean this person goes on the list of people I want to beat up for being so fucking wrong about a Joe show. No, you fucking fool, that's not actually the deciding factor. She's at least on the fence, if not already secretly decided yes, about it from the moment he asks. It's about the company, it's about the road trip, it's about breaking the rules after having been "good" for so long. I am so adamant that this song is about desire and thrill and guilt and wanting to be seen for who you are and not just John saying obscene things. Like take the dialogue exchange right before she finally vocally says yes. "What do I look like right now?" "Uh. You look like... Lisa?" "... Alright let's go." Like tell me that does not drive you fucking crazy after Lisa's constant questions about others perception of her and trying to figure out who she is herself. Car Ride To Long Beach is good you guys are just mean.

Social Worker - Another example of an incredibly fitting character song. The refusal and reluctance of a teenage boy to admit that he actually needs or gets mental health help. I love the music-ification of a panic attack as loud drums and electric guitar. "I don't really go to the social worker," he says, as he goes to the social worker. It’s truly hilariously, heartbreakingly fitting for his character.

The Answer - When that Things To Ruin reviewer said Joe is a master of putting commonly shared moments to music no one else has done before, they were right. Who HASN’T taken a test and failed it so utterly they started questioning their entire life and worried for their future before? I love the repeated lyric questions like John is sitting there reading the question over and over trying to figure out what the answer is. I love the synthy keyboard. Fantastic choice @ Charlie Rosen.

Band-Aids and Cigarettes - Oh this song is so good I feel guilty about putting it at 8. It’s like honestly heartbreaking, not being able to give what the other person needs and being aware of it. And the unconventionality of it being sung by the mentor character instead of a love interest or something.

The Feeling (Part 1 and 2) - Yeah I’m combining them into one song and also assuming the entire beach/Chris & Mrs. Werring conversation is part of the song, too, with the interlude of the “I just want something good to happens.” This song is a jam, plain and simple. I love the absolutely terrible advice that Mrs. Werring gives Chris. “You got to push all your worries inside of yourself, and then they’ll mix creating a combustible boom.” Awful! But Annie Golden sings it so well. And it makes Band-Aids and Cigarettes later that much more sad. In part 2, I love how interconnected the two conversations are. “Just breathe them in -> I love the beach.” The synchronous “I don’t even remember why I liked him/her in the first place.” The score here having the Spirit Song melody. Also now feels like a good time to bring up my Lisa Bred is nonbinary headcanon (though it’s practically textual canon) with “I’m not a girl, I’m a song.” Like that right there, she literally states she’s not a girl, and that’s just the most obvious part. Twice before now, she’s asked people about how they perceive her (“what do I look like right now?” “my girlfriend?” / “Lisa”) and her arc in this show up to this point is discovering more about herself and trying new things. She’s aware of societal gender norms (“isn’t that what boyfriend girlfriends are supposed to do?”) and how she doesn’t really fit in with them. She’s experimenting with expressing herself (dyeing her hair blue, photography). Like it’s all right there. I don’t know if Joe was intentionally writing a nonbinary character figuring herself out but that’s what I get when I read the text straight. In Lisa’s mind, John is one of the gateways to trying new things (“you give me this feeling”) and then that blends right into the rest of The Feeling and it’s so fucking GOOD. I love this song.

Blue Hair - The OG Joe Iconis viral song! I love the music song of this song so much, specifically the guitar/piano riff. I love the multiple sources of motivation of doing it, from actually wanting to try something different, to getting a reaction from Chris and John, even if she denies that last part. And then again at the end of the song with her self-awareness. She’s doing something to stand out/express herself! I love it.

Nato's Song - A six minute clusterfuck of a song and it’s beautiful. Sticking to the actual Nato stuff right now, I think it’s a pretty clever way of passing time and seeing how it’s affecting him and everyone else in the show. With the interspersed content of other characters, it really is the musical equivalent of a film montage. I love seeing Chris’ further breakdown in the form of voicemails to his dad. The music of Blue Hair, Old Records, and Rather Be coming back is fucking great. Everyone is just struggling in this song and it’s great.

Rock 'N Roll Band (Reprise) - I love this re-introduction song so much and the differences between it and the original. I love the chaoticness of the solos all going at the same time. I love the cut Geek Rock Garage King still making in into the show as Brandon’s bridge and how out of place it is with the rest of the song musically but yet it’s still in it. I love the a capella break with Mrs. Werring cheering them on.

Old Records - The fact that John plays the guitar as Chris sings it for someone to hear is so good. When he gets affirmation that John likes the song, he continues. And it’s only after being called out about his writing revealing things about him that Chris feels bad about the song again and claims that they were just dummy lyrics. Once John leaves the backing music comes back on like glockenspiel or something and I love the lightness of it combined with the electric guitar that comes in after.

Black Suit On - I know we’re at like 3/4ths through but I honestly love this song. I love all the songs so much. This ranking honestly barely matters because I love all the songs in this show. I love the (unrealistic) idea of finally being able to be your best self, of all your problems going away, if only something symbolic but ultimately inconsequential thing were to happen. It’s about the (shared) vision for a different future than the one you’re currently living! (By the way I am so haunted by Jen Tepper saying this song was actually about LIHN. Like does anyone know what that means? Do I fundamentally misunderstand this song or LIHN? I don’t get the connection.)

Lisa - Once again, the relatability. Who hasn’t felt like they were good enough for another person? I love the specificity of the AOL verse. It’s so late 2000s. And the rest of the lyrics are so angsty and overdramatic as John is. Specifically in the context of the show this song really hurts after Lisa tells him she can’t fix whatever issues are wrong with him.

Rock 'N Roll Band - I love how the entire song is so what teenagers going through school, waiting for life to change, and seeking refuge in the only place where they feel like they are important and can be themselves. I love all their intros. I love Brandon going way too hard on the drums. “I’m gonna scream and shout, knock you out. I’m gonna conquer the world, get the girl. I’m gonna get some respect, finally connect. When I take a stand, with my rock ‘n roll band.” The extreme vividness of the type of stuck they feel here is so good and it’s a good summary of the show.

Pop Tarts - I love that this song is still called Pop Tarts despite all references to it having been removed except for one dialogue. I love the section of Chris’ vision for the band. The pre-reprise of the beginning of It’s All Good with “we’re cool and whatever?” and all of them joining in and getting on the same page. We love some boys just absolutely barely capable of communicating with each other with words.

Song In My Head/Only Person In The World - The absolute irony and poetry of John singing “I’m the only person in the world” and Chris singing about how everyone is gone when this is a duet. It’s literally so fucking good. When they both sing “I’m the only person in the world” at the same time? Are you kidding me? And this song is ranked 18th? Truly every song in this show is top tier.

Rather Be - This song is rather on the nose in its message, everyone would rather be at band rehearsal. It’s a solid song that helps us get into each of their characters more (“rather be where my buddies / now the same bands / and tolerate my drum fills” / “where my brothas like that I’m weird / and ask to see my squid impression” / “because we’ve only got a little while to get fantastic and get some style / if we do it soon then I won’t have to go to college” / “christ I’d rather be anywhere / but sitting trapped here taking this asshole test”). I love it when characters in shows all have different reasons for singing the same lines.

McFly Is Looking For A Drummer - Rip to this song, being ranked last. It’s not that I don’t like it because I actually do. Again, I just love all the songs in this show. He’s trying to communicate in his own way, which happens to be in music references, but that’s not how other people around him understand, and so he sees this opportunity to be with people who are more like him, but then he he gets scared that he wouldn’t fit in the way he hopes he would, which would be even worse than where he’s currently at where he knows that they don’t quite get him but are his friends anyways. I love that one moment where he drops out singing. It’s very reminiscent of in Michael In The Bathroom when you expect him to sing the title words but he doesn’t, so your brain fills it in for you. It functions a bit differently than that moment does in BMC though. I think in this song it’s the comparison of how he’s currently treated with the possibility of what McFly represents, that he could have the exact opposite experience there, that he’s imagining all the possibilities in that moment. Lol, ranked 20 and I still have so many things to say about this song.

[lookwhatilost]

I’m going to use this video as something of a case study to prove my point. Some things that are necessary to point about Ben Shapiro: he is an intelligent person, he speaks quickly, and he makes good quips. This makes him very good for the YouTube video “LiBtArD wReCkEd” compilations. He’s also very dishonest and he tends to misrepresent statistics. This is, of course, because Ben is a fascist and fascists don’t care if they’re telling the truth.

So, this is a thirteen minute video, and barely a fraction of what this student is laying out is going to get covered. The reason why Ben is letting him talk as much as he does in the beginning instead of interrupting him the moment he started explaining what socialism is is because he’s looking for something to quote back at him. Usually he’ll let his “debate” opponent talk until he finds something to do this with, and hit them hard on the point he stops them on.

Next we have this “workers or the government” thing Ben comes back at him with: he clearly said “workers owning the means of production”. He even said it twice, I believe, and Ben pretty much says “I know you’re talking about that, but if you said THE GOVERNMENT owning the means of production, that would be very ineffective” and then he rattles off on that. Even though this student never said anything about redistribution – he deliberately stepped away from that point at the very beginning. He acknowledged the fact that Ben will often talk about redistribution without actually engaging with the core points of socialism and, once more, he never said anything about government control and he never said anything about lack of free market enterprise. Socialism and free market enterprise aren’t in any way disparate. Market socialism is a thing.

Hypothetically, what you’d have to do here is let him talk on, and when he’s done, say “That was great and all, Ben, but I pretty clearly said worker owned means of production. Would you mind answering the actual question.” You can’t treat people like this in good faith. Ben knows exactly what he’s doing here with his talking points. No one brought up the Scandinavian countries. No one brought up government owned means of production. Nobody brought up free market enterprise. Nobody brought up being paid $100,000 to dig holes in the ground. No one brought up redistribution policies – unless you count the kid bringing it up to clarify that this wasn’t what he was talking about.

He then brings up that he’s an owner. Ben is smart enough to understand the basic principles of socialism, but he recognizes he isn’t capable of addressing any substantive criticism, so he’s deliberately pretending to misunderstand what this kid is saying. “Freely choose to alienate your labor” as if you have any choice in society these days. That’s like saying you freely choose to shit inside of a toilet. You don’t have many other options in regards to that. You can if you want to, but eventually, you’re going to get in trouble with it. Again, this is a deliberate misinterpretation. The workers owning the means of production gets brought up, and he spends the first two minutes of his response saying “if you meant the government owning it, that’s disastrous, and by the way, Norway is actually capitalist, and socialists won’t tell you this, but they actually have free market enterprise. And I’m a worker, so workers do actually own the means of production. Isn’t Bill Gates a worker?” Aren’t the tens of thousands of people under Bill Gates also workers? We’re talking about all workers, not just the one worker who also happens to own the company.

Him crafting rebuttals that actually take into consideration the tenants of socialism would, at least on some level, give the socialist credence to argue in a reality based sense. If a reactionary defends their belief system by attacking socialism in ways that are actually salient, you’ve set the socialist up to debate in a fact based argument, and that’s not what reactionaries dominate. Reactionaries dominate in a purview of recited dialogue trees, of snooty quips, and emotionally based arguments. This is where they thrive. They do not want to bring the argument into a reality based discussion.

In three minutes, he’s introduced so many stupid misconceptions that the student is going to spend more time arguing against the misconception than he will putting forth his own argument. He could spend a literal hour trying to correct the dumb, deliberate straw men that Ben Shapiro has thrown out here and never will he get a chance to substantively put forth any real advocacy for socialism.

To counter his “criticism” on labor theory of value: what if you spend a lot of time and money digging up diamonds from the ground? There are plenty of diamonds that get dug up that have absolutely no mechanical or industrial purpose. He’s saying “labor theory of value is dumb and bad because the market theory of value is what’s correct” without presenting any sort of argument to support that. Neither of these are holistic theories, both of them have valid places in society as lenses of interpretation, but this is not a substantive criticism. It is, in fact, very stupid.

It also helps that he has all the social capital in this situation. You never, ever want to challenge a reactionary when they have the podium and you don’t, and while they have the audience and you don’t. If they are even slightly intelligent, it is literally impossible for them to lose in the eye of their audience.

When the student brings up Mondragon: this is what reactionaries do. They define capitalism as freedom. Capitalism is when the owners of capital own the means of production and socialism is when the workers own the means of production. Not that we should take much that economic theorists say for granted on the account of most of them being cheerleaders for capitalism, but there are plenty of things that Ben laid forth that many economic theorists would disagree with. For one, he’s laid out the assertion that free markets are somehow absolute to capitalism and antithetical so socialism, that worker owned communes are an example of capitalism, and the degree to which government intervention is present in an economy is deterministic to whether or not it is socialism. Reactionaries operate in a delusory, fantastical land where the characteristics of capitalism are amorphous and capable of being shifted to suit one argument to another. In one instance, capitalism is the liberator of the working class, the distributor of technology, and in another instance, the very real consequences of capitalism are instead a product of corporatism, of government intervention, of “globalist” policy. Not true capitalism, mind, just other things.

And hey, guys, I’ve read the Communist Manifesto. Does anyone remember any segments in there where Karl Marx claimed the government needed to cram down and force people to participate in guild markets? Does anyone remember that part? I don’t.

Anyway, this is why you don’t argue with reactionaries when they have the podium and you don’t. The student got a bunch of time to speak where he laid out a very calm point, Ben got a bunch of time to speak where he then said a bunch of shit that had nothing to do with the kids argument to mislead the audience, and then deliberately interpreted what the kid was saying to present a straw man that the kid would have to correct. Now Ben has got the student in a position where he’s basically saying “I don’t disagree with anything, you’re basically saying capitalism. Worker owned means of production? That just means the people who own it also work at it, right? If Republicans did that, would you vote for them?” The kid is never going to be able to correct all this, not in a million years, and now when he speaks up, Ben is going to keep hammering this in, deliberately interrupting the kid and forcing him to answer misleading questions.

This is how you win a Ben Shapiro debate. This is how you “own libtards”. You get the mic, deliberately misinterpret what they say, you throw straw men at them and force them to defend or respond to that, both of which are impossible, and then, just to keep them off base, you continue to interrupt them when they respond to your point. It’s a very, very simple formula to follow if you are intellectually dishonest and a complete fucking asshole.

But yeah, the free market is not exclusively capitalist. For one, the free market does not have prescriptions. The free market is not a physical entity, it’s a concept that some people aspire to, unfettered trade. And free market socialism is a thing, yet again.

At around the 8 minute mark of this video, the student makes a bit of a mistake because he’s not really harping in on the public vs private ownership of the means of production, but Ben Shapiro’s line there is completely irrelevant: “So companies shouldn’t be able to have investors?” This is a tangential question. This would be like him talking about socialized ownership, and Ben leans into the microphone and asks “well, who’s the CEO then, dummy?” This is to say, it’s tangentially related, but it has nothing to do with the thrust of the argument.

His counter to the pencil factory example is pathetic. No one mentioned doctors. No one mentioned everyone in society getting paid the same amount. This has nothing to do with doctors and pencil factory workers, this has to do with pencil factory workers and pencil factory owners. He thinks this is a “gotcha” but it literally has nothing to do with the argument the kid is making.

It is so, so difficult to maintain your composure when you are around a hostile audience. At least if you were on stage, you would have the positional authority over them. You’d be in a place where, at least physically, you are given credence by the architecture of the room – standing atop something, having the lights on you, being behind the podium, having unfettered control over the mic. These things can lend you a lot of confidence. But if you’re just standing there and someone else is holding your microphone, and the audience claps whenever Ben Shapiro says something… Ugh.

But it comes as no surprise that Ben sees capital and labor as one and the same, because he’s a fucking capitalist and he’s a piece of shit. To him, people and money are just interchangeable cogs in a larger machine that he benefits from, and that is how most capital owners see them. After all, labor is a resource, and capital is a resource, and that’s all you look at them as – resources – there isn’t much of a difference between the two. Now, of course, you’ve got a few more ~libcucky~ takes on it, like how humans are human beings, and we have rights, and should be entitled to happiness and respect, but that doesn’t really factor into that sort of economic, capitalist worldview.

To summarize, this juxtaposition, “you’re a socialist, I’m a free marketer. You’re talking about things that are voluntary, which means they can’t be socialist, because socialism is authoritarianism”, this is the dichotomy that he’s been trying to reenforce this entire conversation. I don’t know how deliberately he’s doing this, but it’s very effective. In the mind of every audience member right now, what Ben is doing right here is destroying this “libtard” right now by saying “Heh, idiot. You think that’s socialism? How can that be socialism if there’s freedom involved?' and that’s basically what he’s going for here. But when the kid gets flustered and struggles to make a coherent point in the face of all this, Ben can just shit on him. And then the people who edit this shit put in airhorns and laugh tracks so the smooth brained dipshits watching this unironically know when to clap and bark like seals at the libcuck getting owned. It’s pathetic and it’s not a real argument. Fin.

[diaryofanangryasianguy]

God, the amount of people who don't wear masks is infuriating. My dad had to quarantine himself because one of his co-workers got tested positive and they work in a university. I know that my town isn't a big one, but the number of outbreaks that could happen??? I can't stop shaking with anger at the thought. My dad tested negative, thankfully. But God, the number of entitled people wanting to dine-in at my workplace. I want to bash them with a huge as work full of orange chicken.

LOL

Well that’s good your dad is okay. But I feel the same. It’s like why can’t people just stay at home and practice social distancing and good health measures? The only time people should be going out is for food, basics necessities, or work. But tbh a whole bunch of work places should be closed down too. Like this is the perfect time for a UBI to be implemented. Also, essential workers need to be paid a lot more and billionaires need to be stripped of their wealth. If you weren’t convinced against billionaires pre-coronavirus, present-day coronavirus should have changed your mind by now.

Obviously it’s a lot more complex than all this, I get it but the way the US and USAmericans are handling this whole thing is just fucking horrible man. It’s like the country and people here are just so damn greedy, selfish, and stupid about the whole thing. Especially trumpers and rest of that right-wing shitshow. Fucking idiots man.

Honestly, I could really care less if these people wanna sacrifice themselves for a dine-in or a haircut but the thing about this pandemic is that they pose a risk to other people. In fact, it’s not just a simple “risk” because for nearly 125,000 people, it has been a death sentence. That’s how many people have died in the US because of it. But this is a “free” country right? Fuck these trumpers and their fake ass “tyranny” mask bullshit because going out without a mask is actually a potential death threat to someone else. Like these fuckers have literally been wearing klan and clown masks their whole lives but start crying when you tell them to put on a little mask that can actually save people. The fucking audacity man.

As for me personally, I’m willing to put aside ALL social activities, gatherings, events, and everything else for the next year or two so long as it means that our society in the long run can be as healthy as possible and just be done with this whole shit. Like the sooner we give up some shit for the greater good and just hold it out, the sooner we’ll be done with it. But no, USAmericans are so damn entitled and privileged that they don’t wanna give up anything for the greater good.

Like I’m supposed get fucking married, move out, travel, find a career, have kids, and so many other life-changing things THIS YEAR dude. But I’m willing to put all of that on hold for however long possible so long as it means our society will come out of this faster and better. I get it, it’s hard to put our lives, our plans, our futures, our personal lifestyles, and everything else on hold but that’s what’s necessary at the moment. It’s not to punish anyone or to make anyone suffer, it’s just for the greater good. In fact, it’s about making people suffer less overtime.

Angry Asian Guy

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, Part 1.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you'll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like the scary example of what will happen when you don't obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Man, Fez is just my main bitch from Euphoria. I just adore him the most. His breakfast is consistent with Respecting Women Juice™️ and Keeping His Shit Together Juice™️. He might not be the brightest man around, but I think he's gentle and caring. Like hell.

A/N: The reader is around 17 to 18 years old, not further explained, attending high school. Rue and the gang are around the same age and since Fezco's age was never actually clarified, let's go with 23.

A/N: This takes place in a universe where Jules was away for a while, but after a few months she came back to Rue.

Warnings: Talking about drugs, drug addiction, smoking, drinking alcohol. You know. Basically the normal lives of today's kids.

Word count: 3 K +/-

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Ever since you were a kid, the adults always told you that you can be whatever you would like to be. When you were five, they lied to you - they told you that you can be a pirate or a princess, or an astronaut or a zoo animal keeper for that matter. 

When you were ten, they usually started to be critical to you just as you started as well. You slowly realized that being a plumber or a social worker is maybe the place you were supposed to be, you started to base your imaginations off the reality. 

When you were fifteen, it all came together - you knew what should you do, what is off your limits and what stays in your boundaries. You could still be something even if you weren't the smartest or the funniest in your class, or the best of bureaucracy. 

And when you go to college you most likely know what you'll do with your life - that you would be a nurse, a teacher, a biologist or you know that you will not go to college at all. Sometimes the young people didn't even continue to college. Sometimes it just doesn't work out. It simply happens.

But they were the other ones - the people who weren't destined to have a normal life. Those who dropped out of high school and just started to live by their own rules and who tried their best to go through life without some bigger problems. 

Your mums usually told you not to be dumb, not to hang out around these people, stay out of their presence and ignoring them as well as you could. But some of them weren't that bad, they weren't the garbage of the society as your mums told you. 

Every one of them had a reason to be as they were - usually it was a reality-based reason, something that made a perfect sense when explained, a serious social issue. You just had to ask them - some of them became gang members to help their family financially, others had committed prostitution, some of them were part of the black market with guns. Most of their fates circled around money. Money, the thing you need to survive in this cruel, cruel world. 

Love meant a lot to those who wanted it. But money mattered way more. You needed money to survive - it was to survive or to be killed. No other options were remaining. 

You lived in a small town since you were born. Everyone knew everything about everyone. It was just as simple as that. It took you by surprise when your parents told you that you'll be moving out of your birth town in the next few weeks to some strange suburb on the other side of America. 

You heard that it actually snows there during winter which was a pleasant change from the hotness of Arizona. Also, it was nearer to the bigger cities of the United States - and you were pumped to visit them with your mum and siblings or cousins. To shop, to see something new, to actually get some experience.

“It isn't that bad. I like this place.” - Your little brother Cal called out as he stepped out of the truck. You carefully took the box out, almost tripped because of you untied old Converse shoes you still wore even after they tore apart near the base. You had an old, rainbow t-shirt on, it basically hung on your body because of how oversized it was, it covered your Adidas shorts completely. 

“New boys. New girls. Fresh start. No history. I love it,” - Francis, your older sister, said out loud. She came out of the closet four years ago and since then, she has dated numerous girls and boys. She was going to attend local college but you were sure that sooner or later, she will introduce you to another love of her life. - “And what about you, my little bean? You feel comfortable out here?” - She hung an arm around your shoulder and you gave her a nod. 

You weren't exactly the happiest about moving out of the town you have known your whole life so well, but both of your siblings were right. The neighborhood seemed to be quiet, safe, clean and nice, just an ideal place to base a family life in. Bikes were thrown around, the kid's screams of amusement could be heard just as the birds sang and the wind around you felt wet and yet warm in a nice way.

“Come on, you golden trio. You are unpacking your things for what seems like a whole eternity! We brought some pizza and Thai if you want some!” - Your mom shouted out of the front door with a huge smile, holding the plastic bag as proof for you. 

“Go.” - Your sis patted your shoulder and got into the truck to shut the back door completely, preventing stealing. You did not wait for her, you looked at your legs, how the fresh green grass breaks under your feet and the soles of your shoes, being careful about not fall down. 

Your mum always told you to tie your shoelaces but you never really listened since you were a small kid. It resulted in a lot of falling down, bruises, abrasion and you crying loud. But you learned how to walk with your shoelaces undone. It was your own choice, after all, you chose not to tie them - and they told you all along that your life depends on what you want and what you don't want. 

Your parent always told you how easy it actually is to live in your generation - that you can use cellphones, that you can use the internet, that they are taking care of everything you could probably need. 

You thought about it a lot - and you came to an opinion. It was not easy at all. To live in your age. It felt more like surviving than living for real. The drugs were easily accessible for the younglings - even your big sis was a serious stoner back in your hometown and you knew that it will not take long her to find the local dealer and become friends with him. The cyberbullying was a serious issue that made a lot of people's life worse, the bullies could easily find your personal information, your old photos, they could make fun or a living nightmare of you and your life. And when your nudes leaked out? Holy shit, you were fucked like hell.

Yeah. You were a high-schooler. But let's face it - almost everyone who tried to make a move with someone or who was in a relationship had sent a nude at some point in their life. It was some kind of a norm for the children your age. 

You were constantly in danger thanks to the great internet and that was a fact. The adults tried to teach you how to behave on the internet... But truly, did any of you actually give a crap? Every one of us took it as bullshit, not taking them too seriously. Who was actually safe around you? Drugs, alcohol, sex, porn, cigarettes, money everywhere around you. 

It was so easy to become corrupted. Just like everyone around you. 

You were not that innocent at all as well - your big sis was really popular back in your hometown - she was truly smart, she was funny, she used drugs and smoked, drank regularly. She was invited basically to every party in the town. Some of them were wild, some of them were pretty muted thanks to weed and ecstasy which was always distributed there. 

You smoked at the parties and did some shots - that wasn't so bad. Kids your age did a way worse thing at those parties. 

Your mum and dad knew that you and your sis attended some parties but they didn't know that there were drugs and alcohol present. You were the Sunday church raised children after all (which didn't mean that your parents discriminated or turn their backs to their oldest child when she said she's into girls a lot), they trusted you.

They often laughed that they have done it too. Sure, you smiled usually, but did you see a girl who is dozed off after Lexauryne, have you felt the actual fear about her life? Have you ever seen what shit Valium or heroin does to someone? Have your friend almost jumped off the roof when they took too much LSD? But you never said anything out loud. 

You have seen things. But everyone did. It wasn't easy to be a teenager in your age. 

Every one of your friends slowly became one of those types your parents always warned you about - at least a part of them was just like the people they talked about to scare you off. Maybe you were one of those people as well. What could you know?

You had your dinner with the typical witty sense of humor of your parents and the usual bickering between you, your little bro and older sis. You felt safe at those moments, away from reality, just chilling with your fam. 

The next morning was your first actual day of school after a weekend of moving in. Your dad went to his new workplace for the first time and your sis and your mum stayed home to continue with unpacking.

"You should get up or you seriously will not go to school on time." - Your mum peeked into your room and you just mumbled something in response when Fran took your bed with her monster attack as you called, tickling you, kissing you into your hair and laughing along with you.

"Get your lazy ass off the bed, ma's right. I'll ride you to school." - She laughed and laid next to you, looking you in the face. You smiled at her, smoothed your hair and yawned. - "Ah shit, you thought about that again, didn't you? You'll be just fine. This is a good neighborhood, ma and pa told us yesterday. Nobody will shove a knife on your neck and threaten you to do drugs or take your money. Nobody will take your pics while you pee. I swear. You'll be alright, baby girl." - She kissed your forehead tenderly.

Fran always said that you worry about too many things. And she often said that you're way more adult than she'll ever be. But she didn't forget to mention that it's harming you a lot in a way.

"So that's how you make girls fall for you. I see it now." - You teased her. She took a pillow and smacked your head with it. But she laughed. Then Fran stood up and stopped at your door to take a last good look at her baby sister. - "Get your lazy ass up and have some good breakfast. We have something about forty-five minutes before you, I and the last shithead would have to go. Go get 'em, tiger!" - She yelled and clapped her hands, letting you alone.

You got the smallest room - Fran demanded the one on the second floor, saying it was for her study purposes. She lied. It was the only room with a balcony and she needed to smoke weed somewhere. Your brother had the second room because he could be a little brat and a pain in the ass sometimes. So you and your parents had the room on the first floor.

But you liked it. It was easier to make it comfortable and you could open a big window to look out on the street. And you had a big bed nonetheless so you were just fine about your new room.

You better did what Fran said - took some of your other shorts from your wardrobe, then you took out your favorite Lion King oversized t-shirt with Rafiki printed on it and you completed with a big ass hoodie which reaches up to the middle of your thighs. You put on some high socks on because you loved the look of them rolled down to your Converse shoes.

You cleaned your face and brushed your teeth and hair, putting it into a bun which was all over the place as always, then you tried to make your face more appealing with some eyeliner and mascara but in your eyes, you looked like a mess. You put your old, torn apart but trustworthy backpack over your shoulder and took off to the kitchen. Everyone was already eating, dad reading the news on his phone as he always used to.

"I don't want bacon!" - Cal yelled almost frantically and that almost freaked the living hell out of you. He loved bacon. What was his deal?

"What is it, young man?" - Mum asked and looked at him. Thanks to Fran's shit-eating grin you knew that she's the one responsible.

“I must declare that I am a proud vegetarian from now on.” - Cal said with a serious face and you just burst out of laughing. Cal was always like that. Smart pants. But he never was socially awkward. He just used some words that were too complicated for a boy his age.

“Oh really?” - You mum asked with a surprised face, watching all of you with her witty jokes prepared face. - “And why is that? Y/N will love to have some more bacon.” - And so it was. Another three slices to your empty, hungry stomach. Maybe Cal's sudden vegetarianism had some plusses to it. 

“Fran told me that it will make me more appealing in front of the girls. And I am a ladies man.” - Cal told with a serious face and that was the moment Fran’s grinning face bursted out of laughter as well. 

“You're also only thirteen years old, pal. No girls until you're at least sixteen. But you do you.” - Your dad said all of a sudden. You loved them so much it sometimes took you by a surprise. 

Then, when the breakfast was over, you went out to your sister’s car. Your dad had one and Fran was given your mum’s car. Your ma said shell take the bus to work so it's ok for Fran to have her own car to do her business with. 

“Okay, shithead one and shithead two. Are you ready for your first venture to the big, scary world?” - Fran joked and waves to ma when you were doing your seatbelt on the co-driver’s side.

“Bring it.” - You said, turning the radio on. It was a station you didn't know, some new hip hop songs. But it was enjoyable, so you just let it play, rolling the window down, leaning your crossed elbows into it. You were aware that your hair will be even messier after that, but you wanted to feel the actual atmosphere and energy of your new hometown.

You felt free from your burdens once again - the hip hop was almost screaming out of your car, the air felt cold between your hair and the sun shined on your skin gently. You were watching the new, strange people who lived there, walking in schools direction, groups of friends, some alone kids, some kids were riding bikes. 

It seemed to be like your old home yet it didn't feel like it. Something was just out of its place and weren’t sure if you can put that thing back. 

The car slowly drove next to some gas station or a small shop, you couldn't tell. But something caught your eye - a boy standing with his back turned to the car, in a long sky blue shirt with some clouds painted on it, jeans and a seriously short hair which color you couldn't figure out. You stuck your head out of the window, inhaling that view until you could. 

Something drawn your eyes in his direction, something told you that you should watch him. He was smoking, that was for sure, and moving his hands, probably talking with someone. 

The boy slowly disappeared because of some other building but you would swear that he turned in your direction as well. The air you were holding in slowly came out of your lungs as you slowly leaned to your seat. Francis was watching you but remained silent, just smoked her cigarette with her right wrist out of her window.

When the car stopped, Cal was almost immediately out of it, saying goodbye to you and Fran, but you remained there, leaning more and more down, trying to be invisible for the others.

“Chop chop, out of the car. You will have a great first day at your new school and you will find some friends.” - Fran told with a smile, smoothing your naked knee with her palm. 

“How can you know?” - Your gaze fell on the big hall leading to the main entrance, to all of those strange people there. That didn't feel right. You were scared for your life - new surroundings, new people, new feelings. How many of them tried some drugs? Will you even find someone to be friends with? The feeling inside you felt like exploding, the unsureness, the unknown, the fear. 

“Because I know your little bratty ass since the fucking day youve been born, dumbass.” - She laughed and undid your seatbelt, opening the door for you. - “Show those bastards who you are and that you are not afraid.” 

And with that, you got up and watched as Fran waved you and took off in her car. And you felt lost.

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

My bullying hell.

NOTE: I know this isn’t a dating piece (I’m working on a couple of blog posts at the moment though) but I went walking near my old school, which has been demolished for housing although there’s a fight to make it parkland instead, and it brought back memories. I know most of us get bullied for something. For me that was often my weight but in this case it was more. I think this is why I can be so insecure, and sometimes too sensitive and needy. I contemplated changing initials on the off chance any found my blog or twitter but decided not to. Not once did they display an iota of regret. Even as adults they acted like mean girls do you know what, fuck them.

I know that for many people high school can be hell in parts. I know that many kids have been bullied in school. For me that part was almost the entire year of 8th grade, a year so horrible that I regularly contemplated killing myself, cried myself to sleep most nights, woke in the morning crying because God (despite my not believing in God) hadn't answered my prayers to let me just die, and just generally was completely and utterly miserable and totally alone. I remember one day, with my usual puffy red eyes in the morning, thinking how if it were possible that we only get a certain quota of tears in our lifetime that I must surely have used up a shitload of them. I remember mum, in tears with me, having to practically drag me to school. I remember countless meetings with the school social worker, the year co-ordination, the vice principal and mum. All this was because it had been decreed by the popular girl of the class that I was persona non grata. Nobody was allowed to talk to me in class or out of class- unless it was to say something cruel like about how I was fat. That was allowed. Tripping me over was allowed. Knocking my bag or books over so I had to pick everything up was allowed. Pulling my school dress or skirt up to laugh at my fat arse in front of the boys was allowed. But nice things? No.

There were only 2 people who went against this. On one occasion one of the boys who I had also gone to primary school with asked me if I was ok? Such small words. I managed to nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. "Hang in there," he said. "It'll blow over." I had to hide my face behind my then long hair so he- and nobody- saw my tears. That one simple act of kindness meant more than he will ever know.

The second was when one of the girls I used to hang around with before the decree returned a book she borrowed from me. Her little sister had made a mess of the book. She offered to buy me another one to replace it. I said it was fine. I didn't need to be hated anymore than I was. She left me a note inside the book apologising and signing it with xoxo. I remember thinking how hollow it was given she hadn't spoken to me in a few months. But at the same time I appreciated it.

How did this happen? In an absolutely ridiculous fashion.

Something mean was written about me on a table: it said, in essence, my name is X and 1) I want to be TC’s girlfriend (ironic as he was my best friend), 2) GW’sbest friend , 3) I never have showers and I think there MAY have been a fourth one but I can't for the life of me remember what it said. I think I blocked a lot of that year out. My minds way of protecting myself I guess, like people often do for traumatic events.

As an adult I can say they were relatively benign statements but as a 14 year old they weren't. The thing was the popular girl, LA (now LH) decided that I had written them about myself. (Seriously!) Her reasoning: it looked "kinda" like my handwriting (it didn't) and it looked like it was written by my pen (one owned by something like half the class including, ironically, her). Interestingly a few months later one of the popular girls told me that she had seen her coming out of that classroom at one of the break tones not long before it was discovered. I'll never know who did it but the simple fact that the popular girl said it was me meant that naturally the class agreed with her.

So when she said nobody was to talk to me they all just did it. Not a single person stood up for me. I have felt lonely at many, many times in my life (haven't we all) but the loneliness of that one moment will never ever be forgotten. Even now I feel literally sick as I remember that moment. It was like one of those movies where you wake up from a dream and everyone's gone, and you are all alone. Or a dream where you suddenly become invisible and no matter how much you scream and jump up and down and wave your hands you remain invisible.

I had hoped that maybe my friends would have stuck up for me. I would even have taken them doing it not publicly but privately if they were too scared to disobey or too ashamed to be my friend in front of the popular girl and her best friend JB (now JI) my two tormentors. Like still hanging out with me at lunch and recess. The popular girl wouldn't know after all. But no. Even the girls I had hung with pretty much since the start of school when we'd made friends with me followed and I was suddenly cut off from everyone, completely and utterly alone....

There are some things that stand out from the next eight or so months, things beyond the pain and loneliness. Moments where the bullying was worse than the usual daily taunts. Like the time they soaked a bunch of tampons in water so they became nice and big and ran around the corner and threw them all at me. Because I found a spot to sit and have my lunch all alone day in day out. Technically, being at the front side of the school, near the road, it was out of bounds but I didn't care. On rainy days I got a bit wet but I didn't care- I even thought well maybe I'll get pneumonia and even if I don't get lucky enough to die from it I could get some time off school, away from my living hell. Sometimes I'd eat quickly- prompting comments from the girls about how fat people like me ate too quick- and then go to the library to hide in a corner and read. Being a bookworm over those eight or so months I got through even more books that I ever imagined I could.

I was trying to eat healthy (I was on a diet which, lets face it, I have been on for most of my life!) and I often had those little tubs of two fruits in my lunch. The girls would sneak around and laugh at my lunch. I'd be tripped over, had leftover bits of food thrown at me, was called fat and ugly so many times that even now I say it about myself and actually mean it. One day after PE I discovered my watch had been stolen from the box we put all our special items in. It was a Mickey Mouse watch I got from Disneyland that played music. I was devastated. These girls that I speak of were- surprisingly- not my two tormentors, the instigator of it all, but my former friends. I think that these girls, and the few boys who sometimes hung out with them, were actually crueler to me than the popular girl and her friend. I could never understand that. I still don't.

For almost eight months my mum battled with the school to have me moved to another form but they kept saying that the numbers were at maximum in each form. I offered at one point to take a lie detector test to prove I hadn't written those things. I spent way too many hours in the social workers office in tears.

At one point all of a sudden one of the boys started being nice to me. I lapped up the kindness, kind of like how an abused dog will still always want their masters approval. Every kind word was like a balm on my soul. He'd come and sit with me sometimes at lunch and we would talk and laugh. It was only when someone slipped a note in my locker- I suspect the girl who returned the book- telling me that he had been given a dare by the two tormentors to get me to sleep with him. Needless to say the next time he came to see me I said to him "I know what you're doing. I know it's a dare and you've been telling them everything I said!" (Probably one of the only times in my life I stood up for myself.) He didn't even look ashamed or guilty, he laughed and said "well I wouldn't sleep with a fat four eyes like you for no reason. You are pretty dumb for believing it." Perhaps the saddest thing was the fact that I contemplated not telling him I knew. Oh I wouldn't have gone so far as to sleep with him knowing what I knew but to just continue the ruse for awhile because he provided the only conversation in school hours, the only kindness, in all the pain and loneliness. But, ultimately, I knew being alone was better than living a lie.

My persona non grata status didn't extend to just my class. All the popular kids knew not to talk to me and to make fun of me or even spit on me if I walked past. One of them even tripped me up on the top of the stairs so I went flying down them, landing on my side so hard it was bruised and hard to breathe for ages. I never told on them. I knew that "dobbing" would just make my life worse. Though how they could have made it worse than that I will never know.

The worst moment was when I actually did attempt to kill myself. This is something I haven't ever told a single soul. My mum only found out I had wanted to kill myself a few months ago- not that I attempted it a couple of times- and she was devastated. But I never told her at the time because I saw how much it pained her to see me so unhappy. I couldn't burden her anymore. The night it happened was a Sunday night, the night before school started again for the new term. I was pretty naive. It was pre-Internet which, in retrospect is probably a good thing because had Google existed back then I would have found a way to do it. I took a packet and a half of Panadol. I thought surely that was enough. It wasn't. Not only did I not die, but I simply woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit.

The turning point came about seven months in. A chance encounter in the library with one of the girls I'd gone to primary school with and I told her about what my life was like. She was horrified and said I could come and hang with her friends sometimes. Not all the time, she said, because they wouldn't like that but sometimes. I probably should have thought it a strange offer but needless to say at the time a little bit was better than nothing. So maybe two or three times a week at lunch mainly I would go and hang with them. I didn't really say much. I had always been shy but my ordeal had made me even more so. When people came up behind me and stuck crap down the back of my top or yelled "boo fatty four eyes" suddenly I would jump a mile. If I saw one of my two tormentors or any of their friends I would instantly start shaking waiting for what they would do or say this time. They soon learnt they didn't even need to speak, just look at me, and I'd be affected. So when my school friend said to me that I couldn't really hang out with them anymore because the others thought I was stuck up (because I didn't speak much) I didn't feel much emotion. It seemed to me that it was perfectly right. Why WOULDN'T they reject me too? Who would even WANT to be friends with someone like me?

Finally, FINALLY, after eight months battling the school by mum they let me move classes. Not to the form I wanted to go in as by then I had made a couple of friends through my childhood male best friend who lived a few houses up and I had known since we were three and who I spent most weekends and school holidays with along with my brother and his younger sister who were in the same year, but a new one nonetheless.

It was the middle of second period, I think, that I was moved. The class were in the science block so I'm guessing it was a science class but I can't quite remember. The year level co-ordinator took me in there and just said, "X is in this class now. She's been given the class schedule." Of course everyone turned to look at me curiously. I slipped into a seat in the back of the room and put my head down. At the desk next along from me were three girls. At one point they said my name and I looked up and asked "yes?" I was given a withering look. "I wasn't talking to you. X here has the same name as you." I was told.

The next period those three girls asked me to sit with them and asked plenty of questions. But then after lunch they told me they'd spoken to my main tormentor and knew who I was and what I did. Great, I remember thinking, I could never ever leave it behind me!

But, slowly, over the remaining few months in the year I began to make friends. There were four girls in my form who became my friends- to this day one of them remains one of my best friends- and from another form there were another two. The six of them hung around together and, as time went on, I became part of their group. There were another few girls in the form who sometimes came to hang out with us.

I was with two of them (both had the same name and it also coincidentally happened to be the name of my main tormentor) one day walking across the courtyard when my tormentor and her best friend (the girl who had been one of my close friends for years before this all happened and who's friendship with me seemed to threaten my main tormentor for some reason before the table incident) suddenly appeared. Apparently someone had written something in chalk in the girls toilet near the year ten common room (or it may have been year twelve then, I can't remember when the merger happened) about her and I was blamed. One of the girls stood up for me, pointing out there were many with her name including my two new friends. But no. It was definitely about her because it had her last initial or name. She tried to get in my face, telling me she knew it was me and I had mental problems etc but my two new friends basically stood in front of her. They were a bit tough and told her that she'd have to go through them to get to me. She chose to walk away.

Though she did get the popular girls in my class to make extra fun of me for a bit but all of a sudden it was water off a ducks back because I had my new friends. They did try and get them to abandon me, telling them what I had done but I'd already told them my side and all the pain- though I had edited it because it was too raw to tell the whole truth, in all its intricate and painful details that soon- and the attempts failed.

Soon it was summer and I spent much of it with my new friends.

In the next school year my old friends and my tormentors still would make smart comments or something when I walked past but the more I ignored it, the more I showed no reaction, the less they did it though it never totally stopped throughout my whole time at high school.

Teenagers can be cruel and girls I think the cruelest of the bunch. Sure teenage boys can be cruel too but girls are bitchy and that is much worse in my opinion. Boys might have a fight and then it's done with. Girls will just bitch and snipe and make you miserable. My tormentors never said sorry, never acknowledged I didn't do it. I occasionally see their names pop up as comments on mutual friends posts on Facebook and I look at their profiles and see how perfect their lives seem. Both are married, one has two kids, one has one. I wonder, when I see them, how it's fair that they get the perfect life and I don't. There is no sign of karma having ever gone their way for what they did to me. As for the girls who were my friends before the decree, I'm Facebook friends with a couple of them. We never really spoke again at school. But, with school far behind us and time dulling some of the bad memories and letting most people look back at their school days as the halcyon days of youth, and remember the good times not the bad, a couple of them are friends on Facebook. Only one have I ever really caught up with but another two I do talk to sometimes on there.

I do believe that, to this day, it has affected me. Just writing this is affecting me: for instance I'm feeling a bit sick, my hands are a bit shaky, and I feel like I want to have a bit of a cry. (Yes- I still have tears left despite those eight long months. The human body can be, I think, up to 65% water. I swear back then my percentage was much lower because of my nightly crying myself to sleep.) But I feel good having written this, having gotten one of my stories off my chest. Sure there are others in my life I may talk about in the future but this is one that shaped me. For instance I know I can be a bit of a needy friend, wanting to see friends more often, wondering when I haven't heard from them in a certain amount of time if I've been replaced or done something to make them angry or upset. I take things way too personally, am far too sensitive about things said or done, I overthink things. And I have no self-confidence at all. I don't see the good in me. Outside or in. When someone gives me a compliment my first reaction is to laugh at them. Especially if they say something positive about my body. I look at them and I say, "are you blind?"

If you take anything from my story please let it be this: kindness doesn't cost a thing and just a little bit can truly make a major difference in someone's life. Bullying- whether it's a child, teenager or even an adult- can really fuck someone's life up. And words- like fat four eyes- can do just as much damage, in fact I would argue MORE than hands. Words CAN hurt. Words can linger in a person's mind years and years after they have been said. They can affect the way they live their life and choices they make. They can reverberate in a person's brain for years. So please be kind. And if you are lucky enough to have kids teach them that too. Because- especially with the proliferation of social media in our lives- words can lead to people taking their lives. That stupid little childhood singsong retort to insults "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is a load of utter bullshit. Words- just like actions- can kill. Bullying can kill.

[babysprouseisart]

A few words for you nitwits.

I know I'm a useless, dumb 16-year-old girl. And what I'm saying may not make any sense and can be super stupid. But I am sick of this. At least I don't spread any hatred or not try to profit from the lives of others, I'm honest with you.

You know, it hurts me that the planet is carrying people like these who condemn someone from humans. I will talk about Cole Sprouse or Lili Reinhart, at this moment. I just want to try to figure out why and what for you did, do and most likely will do it. Because you don't care about the truth of life. You only exist in your insignificant cloud and think that you are higher than others and the patrons of the earth.

Why the hell is it so hard to understand simple things made up of puzzle pieces that a baby will put together easily?

Has it ever occurred to you that Cole is just working for the good of his, for God's sake, future family? Yes, future family and his current too. Yeah, maybe he's already a millionaire, all that. But the money is not infinite, it can run out at any moment and you need to continue to live without any refuse. A little more and soon will be married and with children. In the meantime, he has a dog and a much-loved girlfriend. He's working hard, fucking hard, he has 4 projects at the moment including: Riverdale, thriller podcast, comedy movie, and, of course, photography, which seems like he is working on something very high and prospective. And you know, he doesn't just act like he has nothing to do or is having fun. And all for the sake of feeding, living. To buy a house or more, a car, all that he himself justly wants to buy with his blood and sweat earned money. All this is not for the sake of living an empty, useless life, sitting in front of a TV and chewing popcorn, but in order to develop him as a persona and succeed in something. He has a goal, unlike some here who stupidly condemn him for some kind of treason. How the fuck with such a schedule you can also have time to shove your dick in someone's ass? And before you start saying: "So, if he had a less busy life, would he be cheating on her?", I'll tell you that for nothing in the world. He makes it too clear that he loves her and she loves him. These are obvious things that you don't want to accept. This is stupid. And is contradictory for an educated, adult person. And there's no reason to blame him for anything. You are making a big deal out of a molehill, just admit that you are jealous and that's it.

It's the same with Lili. Last year, she participated in many projects, was on red carpets, she is now the face of Covergirl, is releasing her book, her film will be released soon, she is a hard worker no less than he is. They both have a goal to live for. They both worked and still work hard, they see their families very hardly ever. Imagine that? And we see it. Think of FFA, Lili's work on Hustlers, and other projects they went through. And yet they do not give up and this does not affect their strong bond in any way. This only encourages them to go further and climb the biggest peaks of this world. They always went through it together and were always the best allies and supporters for each other. Which is obvious, even if they don't shout it on their instagram. And it's not necessary. They should not report their every move to anyone for many reasons. Starting with the fact that the most important thing is that you are nothing but strangers to them. Social networks were not invented to prove our loyalty and love through this, or vice versa. Social networks are designed for entertainment and pastime. In fact, this makes people even more degraded.We only see 5% of the lives of others through their posts or something like that. It's up to you what you think about them, and how low your IQ is, which allows you to invent more negativity than it is in nature. This is very beneath the dignity of any person. If you don't like someone, just unsubscribe from them and don't pursue them. You can't prove anything to anyone anyway. And you shouldn't.

Can you imagine that you are a child or an adult on the contrary, and your life is being speculated on? Imagine that one of your brothers or your dad is accused of treason and they say nasty things about him. Will you be pleased? I wouldn't. I would have burned with grief. This is terrible. Personal privacy should always be protected. You are a creature of flesh and fat, and you have no right to do so. That's why I respect the UAE. They can cut off your hand for a simple theft, and this is correct on the one hand. They have a thriving respect for both sexes separately. We are all human beings and we must treat others as we would like to be treated. Why cover the sky with a black veil, if this only makes the whole world darker? Why spoil the planet and make it lose its value soon? And if your deliberate actions hurt living things, and that's normal for you, then who are you anyway? Why are you here? People like you can only drive a person to suicide.  And I know that one of my friends from the blackness of the networks almost killed herself. You are insignificant in this case and sinful. Shame on you.

I know you don't care about my digressions, but it's time for you to rethink your actions. Stop harassing people you don't even know. Stop this nonsense. I will say no more.

I can't take anymore of this lying, hypocrisy, anger and all the negativity.

Bye.