#my friends who worked in healthcare the past three years are like no joke the strongest people i've ever met

[pacific-coast-hockey]

also v thrilling, i was looking at the promotional schedule and saw that they rebranded "first responders night" to "healthcare worker appreciation night" which is so based of them for so many reasons but primarily bc it means i can attend a hockey game on my birthday and not spend the time having to deal with cop dick-sucking all night. healthcare workers >>>>

[achliegh]

Golden

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Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 13:

Anchors Away

Clay was bored, wandering around the mall with nothing to do. Thomas was at practice, Noelle was at work at the aquarium. He was alone again and he really didn’t like it. Leo was busy cleaning the apartment for his mom who is showing up later tonight and Reg was hanging out at the rink.

Clay thought about going to the rink but everytime he goes for longer than 20 minutes he gets a head cold. He was walking past a recently closed store and heard faint music coming from inside. He walked in and noticed a small table set up with two men who were jokingly singing along to the song.

Clay took note of all the posters around the small store.

‘Feeling like you need a purpose in life?’ Yeah, he does. Everyone around him is doing actual things with their lives. Reg has started going to art school for errotic photography and portraits. Leo has been selling horses over video calls with rich clients and helping his mother set up times for the clients to go down and visit the horses at the ranch. Obviously, the hockey boys are playing hockey. Noelle is a year away from graduating and was recently promoted, and Clay just kind of existed…

Leo jokingly called him a houseboy when he mentioned how he just stays at home and cleans, now that's all he is ever called by Leo and Reg and it really makes Clay feel worthless. He knows they don’t mean anything by it but…. It still stings.

He moves on to the next poster. “Want financial benefits, healthcare, and more?”

That would be nice, to make his own money for once instead of his parents randomly filling his account with too much money. Something he knows he shouldn’t complain about but he wants to make a name for himself.

‘Join the U.S Navy.’ He paused, he doesn’t know a lot about his birth family, but he does know they were in the military. He has no clue which branch and he knows if he asked his parents they would help him in a heartbeat. But maybe this was a way to find out on his own.

He left the mall feeling lighter, a pep in his step.

He just enlisted in the navy. He was going to make something of himself and maybe even feel like he isn’t just watching his friends and partners pass him by.

Then it hit him, the one thing Leo and him promised each other they would never do is join the military. Because they both know how it fucks people up. Leo lost his uncle, and Clay’s dad lost his own father to PTSD from not having proper care after. Maybe he just screwed up…. But there was no going back now. He wouldn’t.

Walking in the house, Noelle was looking beautiful. She was wearing a pair of sweats rolled up twice at the waist and one of Clay’s old ratty t-shirts. Her curly hair was in her normal ponytail and she was putting on her sneakers. She looked tired from work.

Earlier in the week when Clay and Leo announced Eloise was coming to visit for a few days Noelle started stressing immediately. She has always worried about meeting parents because they always seem to dislike her when they first lay eyes on her, she blames it on her chronic RBF. Clay reassured her that Eloise would love her and actually already loves her from all the stories Clay has told her on her weekly calls.

Eloise was coming tonight, fuck! It was his birthday today and he forgot to mention it! Oops...

Thomas was sitting next to her, freshly showered in his own sweats and t-shirt looking relaxed, he was wearing some socks with little hamsters on them that Clay found for him a while ago. It made his heart jump and he felt his face stretch into a smile. He was scrolling through his phone and Thomas’ whole face opened up in a bright smile as soon as he saw Clay. He made Clay feel so special in a specific way, a way that is so different from how Noelle does and he loves them both.

He needs to tell them that.

“I have something to tell you guys… honestly, I don’t know how you will react but what's done is done.” He puts his hands in his jean pockets and taps the hell of his boots to the toe of his other boot. He was fidgeting and knew the other two noticed. It made him even more nervous.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.” Thomas looks at him a bit worried. His smile was still there but it fell slightly and Clay just wanted to fix it. He noticed Noelle had paused stomping on her shoes, oddly similar to Logan, it made him want to stop what he was going to say but… communication is important!

“Well, I first need you guys to promise me something, then I will make Finn and Logan promise the same thing when we see them because I know I will have to tell them.” He has to tell them, so they are ready for Leo just, not being okay.

And it was all gonna be Clay’s fault.

“What's the promise?” Noelle finishes putting on her shoe and looks up at him. She is trying her best to keep her face neutral but he could tell the wheels were turning in her brain.

“Do not tell Leo, I need to be the one to tell him… and I know he isn’t going to react well. Same goes for Reg but I will probably tell him a lot sooner than Leo.” He keeps on switching his feet that he is tapping and finally looks at them.

It’s now or never.

“I enlisted in the navy today.”

“Okay, Reg and I are going to pick up Ma and then we will be right back!” Leo has been all smiles all day. Finn knew he was close to his mom but this is just adorable.

“Drive safe!” Leo and Reg wave as they leave the apartment and as soon as the door closes Clay is standing in front of Finn and Logan who are snuggled together on the couch. Logan was wrapped up in Leo’s favorite blanket that his grandpa made for him before he passed away. It was a woven blanket with an image of Peanut on it. That blanket has seen Leo and Clay in their worst moments.

He was surprised Logan wasn’t scared of it given his fear of horses.

“Alright you two, I need to tell you something and it needs to be kept secret from Leo and Reg, if you so much as tell them a peep I will never forgive you. That will make family reunions super awkward.” Finn looks up from his phone where he and Logan were reading the comments on their latest tiktok on their joined account.

“Don’t look at me.” Finn raises his hand on surrender and looks at Logan who rolls his eyes annoyed and snatches Finn’s phone away to keep reading the comments.

“I enlisted in the navy-” Clay didn’t even get the full sentence out before Logan had thrown the phone down on the cushion next to him and Finn covered his mouth with his hand looking shocked.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Mama!” Leo hugs Eloise tightly as she drops her bags to hug him back. “How was the flight?” He squeezes her tightly before noticing her new hearing aid is flashing is three blinks then a pause and three more blinks. “I think your hearing aid is dying. Make sure to charge them when we get home.” She either ignores him or doesn’t hear him even though she can normally hear him this close.

“Rick was a great pilot as always, even let me bring y’all some moonshine he made. It's watermelon and raspberry!.” Eloise pulls away after one last squeeze and sees Reg and her smile widens. “Reg! I’m so happy you’re here!” She waits for him to open his arms as an invitation to hug him so she knows he is comfortable with her touching him and she does as soon as he opens his arms. Tighter than she did Leo. “Have you been eating well? How about sleeping? Did you ever enroll in college?”

“Yes, yes and yes.” Reg can’t help but laugh when she picks him up still hugging him and sways him around. He isn’t used to this much affection from a mother figure but… they love it.

“I’m so proud of you for following your dream.” She pulls away and smiles at him with a sincere smile and brushes his hair back. “Your hair looks nice by the way.”

“Thank you.” Reg and Leo help her with her bags and pack them into the truck and drive the short way back to the apartment. Talking about everything and anything. The door man sends a wink Eloise’s way and she holds up her left hand where her wedding ring is. Letting him know she is taken. Walking up to the apartment they smell an odd smell through the door and everyone shares a look.

“I promise it doesn't normally smell this way unless… oh no.”

“What does that mean!?” She leans over to Reg to whisper as Leo fiddles with his key in the lock.

“It means Finn and Logan tried to cook something.” Reg whispers to Eloise as Leo opens the door, Clay was the first to greet them, smiling his million dollar smile he hugs Elosie so tight it surprises her.

“Hello Bluebell! I was surprised I didn’t see you at the airport. How are you doing sweetheart! Twenty years old today! You’re all growing up so fast.” She kisses his forehead and they pull apart. “You look good. Your mother wants you to call her later tonight so she can sing happy birthday.”

“It's your birthday!” Noelle pipes up and looks at Clay offended. “And you didn’t tell us!” He cringes before turning to her.

“Oh, I guess I forgot.” He walks over to her and kisses her cheek while Eloise puts her hand on her chest from just how cute they are.

“Seems like that should have been the first thing you told us this morning instead of, ‘ I feel like a jellyfish’.” Thomas laughs a little and kisses both Noelle and Clay’s cheeks. “So cute.”

“It slipped my mind!”

“Okay, what is that smell?” Leo leads Eloise towards the kitchen after she is done fawning over how cute those three are. Finn and Logan are suspiciously standing in the way of the countertop right next to the stove. “What are you hiding?”

Finn turns bright red and Logan looks anywhere but Leo. Eloise sets her purse on the counter and walks over to them, giving them both kisses on the cheek.

“What did you make us?”

“Well… we tried to make a cake from your cookbook-”

“It didn’t go very well.” They both move to the side to reveal a lopsided cake with some diluted frosting dripping off and random coconut flakes floating around on it. “Can you at least tell what it is?” Logan casually turned the plate so the ‘good side’ was facing Leo and Eloise.

“Umm… not really. Do you mind just telling us?” Eliose was examining the cake, trying to figure out what cinnamon cake she had in her cookbook. None that she can remember.

“Something called,” Finn walks over to the book and notices Clay and Reg standing to the side with their phones up and probably recording. “Divinity Cake.” The room was suddenly really still and quiet. Eloise looked like she was about to cry and Leo was just staring at the cake in shock.

Then Eloise brokedown in laughter, to the point where she was laughing so hard she was on the ground holding her stomach and crying. Finn and Logan were visibly confused and looked to Leo for an explanation, only to find him trying to conceal his laughter in the crooks of his arm.

“Oh my god! What is so funny?” Logan looks at the cookbook and then back at the cake. It looked terrible but they tried their best! They didn’t burn the house down at least.

“Oh my lovely lovely boys.” Leo wraps an arm around both their shoulders and pulls them in close so they are all cheek to cheek for a moment. “Divinity cake is usually cooked for your in-laws in the south.. To prove you are worthy of being a good wife.” explains through his laughing breaks. “This is amazing.”

Eloise eventually stands up and dabs her eyes so she doesn’t smear her makeup. Pulling the two embarrassed boys into a tight hug. “Y’all are so sweet. Thank you for the cake.” She gives them both sloppy kisses on the cheeks and then pats where she just kissed. “Alright I’m going to put my things in the guest room and then we can cook something up for y’all to eat.” She smiles and takes most of her bags to the guest room but forgets her purse. “Finn, would you be a dear and grab my purse for me?” She calls out and Finn being the sweetheart he is, grabs the bag and tries to take it with him as he walks past.

The bag won’t budge, Leo is watching with a smile on his face and his arms crossed. Finn tugs at the bag again and eventually gets it off the counter, it nearly knocks him over with how heavy it is. He scurried to Eloise’s room and gave it to her. She holds it like it’s nothing.

He makes his way back over to Leo and sinks into his chest, his face buried in his neck. Logan is still poking the cake, showing off just how gelatinous it is. Clay and Reg are comparing videos that they took and laughing at how they zoomed in on different faces. Sending them to each other.

“I’m sorry we messed up the cake.” Finn looks up at Leo and sees the sweetest little smile, showing his dimples off. Finn has noticed Leo’s tan from the summer is fading and it is making the small scar across his nose more prominent. It was cute.

“Honestly, it’s better than anything else y’all have made. Plus, now Mama can teach you how to make it the right way for the next time she visits.” Leo kisses his eyebrow and wraps his arms around him as Finn pouts even more. Logan eventually makes his way over and rests his head on Leo’s shoulder.

“Maybe it still tastes good?” He closes his eyes and rubs his cheek on Leo’s soft shirt and tough shoulder, massaging his jaw muscles. His arms are crossed.

“We can try it afte Mama and I make some food, how about y’all pick out what you want so she can put on her mini cooking show.” Leo feels the boys lean off of him and smiles as he watches them pour over each page of the book looking for a meal they want.

“Alright, I’m ready to cook.” Eloise comes back into the room and gathers everyone so they are sitting on the other side of the counter, unless they are Reg or Leo because they are allowed to help cook. Finn and Noelle have taken the two seats while Clay and Thomas are on either side of them watching and Logan is in between them.

They all watch as Eloise explains what she is doing in hopes it helps them understand and make them want to try and make this on their own. Logan gets in trouble for focusing on Leo instead of what she is teaching and she gives him a smirk.

“You remind me a lot of Wyatt, you know that? Around the same height too.” She smiles as she fiddles with her ring after she washed her hands to get the rest of the flour off her hands. Leo is watching the food in the oven as he leans against the counter and nods in agreement with her.

“I do?” Logan looks at her a little confused, he sadly never got the chance to meet Wyatt but he always pictured him as more of the strong and silent type who was also tall, giving Leo his extra few inches of height.

“He was 5’10 and the sweetest man I have ever met, he was goofy and carefree like Finn and always had this hard look in his eyes like you do. Unless he was looking at Leo or I, or in your case Leo. Please don’t look at me like that.” Leo snorts and smiles.

“That would be kinda weird.” He turns his head over his shoulder and smiles at his boys. “Why don’t we tell them some stories about dad? I never really talk about him because… well, it still hurts.” Eloise smiles a little sad at her son and gives his arm a comforting squeeze. Her love language.

“Well, he was in the air force.” She notices Clay looking away, Noelle suddenly looks uncomfortable and Thomas looks a little sad. Something was off. “He and his twin brother Wess joined at the same time, and flew fighter jets together. His brother was shot down and Wyatt made Leo promise to never join. After he came back he vowed to never leave again. He kept his promise.” She smiles at the image of him coming home still fresh in her mind. “He was in love with music, sometimes I think he loved music more than us. He tried to get Leo to learn how to play instruments but the poor boy is so tone deaf he couldn’t figure anything out.” She laughs a little as Leo smiles. “I remember when Leo was being taught the guitar Wyatt would be thrown into laughing fits when Leo would play the wrong chords and smile up at him like he just did something.”

“I thought I did!” Leo laughs a little and turns around to face everyone else. “Look It took me forever to learn rhythm, and now I can dance like there is no tomorrow… still can’t sing though.”

“Ahmen!” Clay pipes up and ducks as Leo throws a spoon at him.

“Shut up!”

“Wyatt did manage to teach Clay how to play fiddle somehow, do you still play?” Eloise checks the food in the oven and determines it's not done.

“I haven’t played since… yeah I haven’t played in a while.”

“He was so proud of you. Wyatt was also a sportsman. He loved sports, especially baseball. So when Leo came home and told Wyatt he joined the team, they went out back and played catch for, I don’t know, hours.”

“My arm was sore the next day.”

“He came to every single game of Leo’s besides one, and was his biggest fan. He made shirts with Leo’s player picture on them and wore them to every game. No matter how many times Leo begged him not to!” The timer goes off and Reg gets the food out of the oven.

“Is this done?” He asks, Eloise comes over to check and nods.

“Looks good! How about we eat?” She smiles and has everyone line up so she can dish it out for them.

Thomas and Noelle are getting ready to leave when Eloise asks Clay to join her outside. He gives them a worried look but follows her. Outside is cold, and there is a bit of snow on the railing of the balcony.

“Talk to me Clayton, something is wrong, I noticed it earlier.” She looks at him and taps her foot as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “Clayton.”

“I joined the navy, and I haven’t told Leo, and I ask that you don’t tell him either because he needs to hear this from me.” He is looking out at the traffic below so he doesn’t have to watch her face. He knows she is upset with him.

“Is that what you really want to do?” She walks up next to him and joins him in looking at the traffic. Clay has always admired how strong Eloise is, she has been through a hell of a lot and still has this calm and stable energy.

“Yes.”

“Then you made the right choice.” She turns and looks at him, smiling in a way that he knows is trying to hide her sadness. She ruffles his hair as he finishes his cig and puts it out on the bottom of his boot. “Have you told Noelle and Thomas?”

“Yeah.” He knows his short answers sound hostile but he wants to be away from this conversation.

“They support you?” She always makes sure he has support, it hurts sometimes. Like he can’t just get support himself and he always needs help.

“Yes.” She nods and walks back towards the door.

“Then you better spend as much time with them as you can.” She goes inside, leaving Clay to think about everything by himself.

It was dangerous.

He walks back inside and they leave. Noelle turns around from the passenger seat and smirks at Clay. He was in for a fun night.

“I’m off to bed boys, we have a busy day tomorrow!” Elosie kisses her boy's cheeks and walks to her room.

“I like you mom.” Logan says as he tackles Leo to the ground straddling his back with his scented markets in hand. He tugs at Leo’s shirt, he complies and takes it off. Logan has been dying to do this all day.

“I hope not too much!” Leo crosses his arms under his head until Finn sits down next to him and he pulls his thigh so it's underneath Leo’s head. Leo shivers as the cold marker hits his skin and Logan begins coloring.

“What other stories do you have about Wyatt?” Finn rubs his fingers over Leo’s short hair that has really grown out over the past month, it was starting to curl at the ends making Leo look sweet.

“He used to read to me when I was little, then when I was able to read I would read to him until he fell asleep and started snoring.” Leo smiles and Finn can feel it on his leg. “He was also my coach for little league baseball for a bit and he was great but not everyone liked that he was my dad. Other parents thought I was getting special treatment. Also he would argue with the umpires and get in trouble!” Leo bursts out laughing and Logan gorans.

“Leoooooooooo! Be still!” Leo calms down and lets Logan keep coloring the flowers of his back piece.

“Sorry sorry, I just remembered when he got kicked out of a game because an umpire called Clay out when he was safe. It was hilarious. He called the umpire a muppet.” Smiling Leo yawns and blinks a few times.

“You can fall asleep, we will wake you up and go to bed when Logan finishes.” Finn is scrolling on his phone and is petting Leo’s head as he feels it get heavier with sleep. Finn looks up at Logan after making sure Leo is asleep.

“We need to tell him we love him.”

“Yeah, we do.” They smile at each other and share a peck before going back to what they were doing.

The next morning Finn and Logan wake up with a Leo sized dent in the bed and not Leo. They wander out to the kitchen and get smacked in the face with the smell of blueberry pancakes. They float into the kitchen and smile at the sight. Eloise has her hair in curlers and is in a thick grey robe and Leo’s sweatpants because she doesn’t own a pair. Her face is free of makeup and it shows how well she has taken care of her skin over the years. She is flipping a couple of pancakes while Leo sips on some apple juice. Just chatting away about the plan for today.

“Okay so after family skate is the party at Pascal and Celeste’s.”

“I won’t be at family skate dear, I have some work to do today.” She puts the last pancake on a plate, making sure that each plate has two, she takes two plates over to the table while Leo carries the other two.

“Ma, you promised me you wouldn’t work while you were here.” He sighs and sets the plates down. He sighs and sits down, not noticing the other two people in the room, he starts poking at his pancakes with his cheek on his hand and elbow on the table. Sulking.

“I know sweetheart but these people are someone who your Daddy tried to sell to for years. They plan to get two mares and then I will be at the party. On time. I promise.” She puts the dishes from cooking in the sink and fills the pancake batter bowl with hot water before grabbing her cup of coffee and walking over to sit next to Leo.

Logan and Finn share a look. They shouldn’t be listening to this.

“Okay but, just please be there towards the beginning of the party. I want to introduce you to my-... the team.” Leo furrows his brow not understanding why he about called the lions his team, when he doesn’t even play hockey.

“I will try my best, Merigold.” She pats his hand and Logan and Finn make their entrance, yawning and stretching as they walk over to the table. “Morning boys.”

“Morning!” Finn smacks a kiss on Leo’s temple as he walks past and Logan does the same, taking their seats and chowing down.

Later that day Eloise was putting her hair in a ponytail as she checked to make sure there were no creases in her uniform. Well, it's not a uniform but what she likes her and Leo to wear when they go to sell.

A black tall-neck turtle neck with long sleeves and tight to the body. Some khaki colored riding pants with tall back socks and brown riding boots. Professional yet comfortable. She was selling to the Malfoy family today, the father is buying these mares for his sons wedding coming up. She is still convinced that they only want their mares because Wyatt is gone, making Knut horses more desirable.

They were in contact with Wyatt for years and were not very nice. She knows she needs to make this sale though. Walking out to the living room to grab her purse she sees Leo moping on the couch by himself. She sighs out of her nose, walking over to him and petting the top of his head.

“I promise I will be there tonight, with moonshine.” She smiles as Leo rolls his eyes.

“I trust you.” Then he stood and gave her good luck and a hug before walking back to his bedroom… not the master bedroom. She takes a deep breath and leaves the apartment.

The rink was cold, Leo was bundled up in his new coat, hat and gloves while rocking his normal jeans and boots. His brand new skates were in hand, not broken in so he was wearing two pairs of tall socks just to help against blisters. Clay actually owned a pair of skates and has been skating since he was younger because he has family in Montana that he would visit for the holidays.

Jerk.

Leo was sitting in Finn's stall just trying to stay warm while he watched Noelle tie one of Clay’s skates and Thomas tie the other. Leo had to admit, he was so happy for Clay, seeing him with that sappy smile makes Leo know that he’s okay. He never smiled like that with Ashley.

Logan walks over to him, completely ready to skate and looking good. He was wearing his favorite well worn sweats and Leo’s new thrifted sweater that was dark green, showing off his eyes. He was wearing his normal cap backwards and Leo has always found it funny that Logan will never wear a hat forwards.

“Ready to get laced up?” Leo nods and holds out a skate to Logan. “You’re very quiet right now, are you that cold?” Leo just narrows his eyes and gives a short nod. Logan shows him how to lace up and once his other skate is on he stands up and nearly falls over.

“This is going to be terrible… is there a dentist nearby? I have a tendency to fall teeth first into the ground.” Licking over his chipped tooth absentmindedly he looks around. There were kids running around in skates and jumping into other players arms. He smiles a bit and rests his elbow on Logan’s head who is wear much more worn down skates so Leo is a fucking giant to him. “You’re the perfect height.”

“Yeah yeah, lets watch you try and walk. Then we can find Finn who I’m guessing is talking to Syd.” Logan helps Leo take a few steps knowing Leo has no balance at all. In skates or not. He has witnessed this name trip over nothing.

“Whose Syd?” Leo starts walking on his own and feels like this isn’t so bad.

“My oldest sister. Aubry is here too. They also play professional hockey. So… don’t get on their bad sides.” Leo stops walking.

“You never mentioned your sisters will be here! I thought I was meeting them when we go to visit your parents in a week! Oh boy… Do they know about you and Finn?” Leo continues walking after Logan grabs his hand and leads him out of the tunnel.

“Yes they know about me and Finn, I told my family first because… well my parents love him and my sisters all had a bet so… yeah. But they don’t know about you because I didn’t know if you were ready for that.” Leo stops him before they completely exit the tunnel and presses him up against the wall, kissing him softly.

“Thank you.” Leo smiles when Logan does and they pull apart to see they are the last out of the tunnel. Walking out Leo stops in front of the ice. “Yo, I don’t know if I have enough ego to let me fall face first onto the ice in front of a whole hockey team yet.”

“What, you aren’t up for the challenge?” Clay skates right up to him, not as seamless as everyone else but still pretty well. He has this challenging look in his eyes and Leo knows exactly what is going to happen. “I knew you weren’t good at everything.” Leo launches himself at LCay who skates out of the way just in time for Leo to miss and barely holds himself up as he glides across the ice.

“Clay! When I get my hands on you, I swear!” Then he falls flat on his ass and gorans laying down, staring at the ceiling annoyed. This sucks.

Clay is having an absolute field day, Laughing his ass off as he skates up to Leo and helps him stand. Patting his back for a moment and letting Leo get his balance he then pushes him over and skates away.

“CLAYTON!” Leo falls basically into a middle split and it distracts Finn from his conversation with Logan and his sisters, hitting Logan’s chest until he looks over at Leo who is still being taunted by Clay and now Reg.

“I didn’t know he could do that.” They share a look and both seem to get ideas around the same time because their faces get all reg and they high five.

“Who is that?” Sydney is readjusting her hat as she looks at Leo. “He’s a cutie, I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.”

“Agreed. He is really handsome.” Aubry nods in agreement and Logan is suddenly possessive. He glares at them.

“Back off, he’s mine!” He crosses his arms and turns his attention back to Leo who is now talking to Katie who has made herself at home on his leg. Leo looks like he is trying his best not to shake from how cold he is.

“You have Finn, let us have our fun.” Aubrey hits his shoulder and skates over to Leo and Katie. “Need some help?” Katie smiles at her. Leo looks up at her and gives a shy smile because he is embarrassed. Nodding she holds out her hand, Katie grabs his other hand and helps him up. With Katie on one side and Aubry on the other, Leo starts more skating and less falling over.

“Awww they are so cuteeeee.” Sydney smiles at them and hears Logan grumble, looking at them annoyed and Finn is still snorting everytime Leo stumbles. But Finn has this look in his eyes that Sydney has only ever seen him give Logan. She hopes there isn’t anything shady going on between those three.

Eventually, Aubry and Leo stake back over to Finn, Logan and Sydeny who are all still chatting on the ice and sipping their hot chocolate that Celeste brought.

“Can I have a sip?” Logan holds up his cup over his shoulder to Leo’s lips, because Leo is behind him, and holds it as he takes a sip. “Mm, so yummy. I’ve never really had this before. Hot chocolate?” Leo doesn’t really drink warm drinks at all, even the coffee is normally cooled down to where it isn’t hot, sometimes iced.

“You should have Finn make you some, he is really good at it.” Finn kisses Logan's forehead and smiles.

“It’s like the one thing I learned how to make properly. Alex taught me! He is coming to the party later tonight if you want to meet him.”

“I’d love to meet him! Now, I’ve met Aubry. I’m guessing you are Sydney? Logan talks about you guys sometimes but I don’t know a lot.” Leo smiles at her and reaches his hand out to shake hers.

“You have a southern accent…” Aubry and her share a look.

Logan is definitely not keeping him from them.

[okay-victoria]

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

[meloncubedradpops]

Repo! The Corona Opera: Final Countdown

This is the third and final installment of Repo: The Corona Opera. In the first piece, I made the argument that the surreal events we are experiencing in 2020 remind me of the world in the movie Repo! the Genetic Opera. My second essay compared the characteristics of fascism with the same movie. Here we will tie together ideas in both works to highlight a dark path that America is on, based on what we know about Repo!, in the hopes that we can reject the evils of those who are sacrificing our health and safety for their own selfish reasons. 

When I began thinking about this movie through the lenses of COVID-19, I saw uncanny patterns that just years ago seemed like an exaggerated storytelling. Millions of people dying from organ failure. Yeah, but how? 

Then 2020 happened. Oh, that's how. Sure the disease doesn't affect everyone in the same way, but its wrath and potential to harm are tremendous. The death toll in the United States alone is, as of today, is 231,000. At least, that is the death toll we are know so far. It will take time when the dust settles and we can analyze the excess death data to truly know how many of our fellow Americans have died. 

And while our world does not currently emulate those opening comic scenes in Repo, the impact from the sudden loss of life will be felt for a long time. There are a lot of really great themes in Repo: the concept of the family, drug addiction, the impact of corporate monopolies, and let's not forget it's a gothic coming-of-age story too. I am going to highlight three concepts that weave together our current reality with the world of Repo: the parallels of the Trump and Largo family, the Graverobber as the symbolic "other", and organ repossessions is genocide.

As mentioned in my previous entry, I highlighted the ways that Rotti Largo is a fascist. I went into detail supporting the argument that his company GeneCo holds tremendous and unyielding power in the city we see in the movie. And despite his efforts to save humanity from extinction, his assumed heirs and blood-related children are nothing short of entitled mediocrity. I will draw many parallels between President Donald Trump and Rotti Largo throughout the duration of this essay, but let's take a few minutes to talk about their children. Believe it or not, this meme was made by myself and my friend FOUR years ago, almost to the day! 

But unlike 2016, I had no idea that I'd find multiple comparisons to draw upon. And frankly, if we all knew how bad this presidency would be, for both America and the rest of the world, we might have made less jokes from our complacency. I ask the the real question though, which Trump and Rotti offspring are most alike?

Now, I've wanted to do this thought exercise since the inception of my essays. The surface level combinations would look something like, Amber and Ivanka (since they're both women, obvs), Donald Trump JR as Luigi (oldest child), and Eric Trump as Pavi ("you're just his useless brother!"). 

However my boyfriend raised a great point that had me rethink this: Donald Trump Jr is ACTUALLY Amber Sweet. When I took out the gender aspect out of the equation, it made so much more sense. In my next point, I will go into drug addiction in a much more dignified manner. But let's just take a moment here to consider the following. 

We know that Amber Sweet is addicted to two things in life: surgery and pain killing drugs to make surgery bearable. Amber Sweet's character provides an incredible insight to the daily life of the people in Repo. If you subtract the Zydrate Anatomy scene, you would hardly even know that zydrate is devastating lives of the people addicted to it. We hear about zydrate in the graveyard as a commercial and the media spends its first opportunity asking Rotti about zydrate's "use and abuses". After Sweet becomes a no-show in the presser, we quickly learn that she runs a support group for fellow addicts, or at least she is supposed to. 

How does this relate to Trump Jr? Quite simply, many are speculating that Trump Jr abuses cocaine. The most compelling evidence is his speech during the Republican National Convention. Now, obviously we don't have solid evidence that he is indeed consuming and abusing cocaine, and quite frankly if he is, that would not be incredibly surprising or even a huge deal. 

But the conversation doesn't end here. President Donald Trump did not hesitate to bring up former vice president Joe Biden's son Hunter Biden and his battle with addiction during the first Presidential Debate. It was a low jab, especially considering that the United States is going through a crippling opioid crisis, which he even admits is exacerbated by covid-19 and related lockdowns. Both Donald Trump and Rotti Largo exploit their own children in this manner. I mean, Donald Trump helped fucked up the Trump Foundation where his children were held prominent positions, which was caught stealing from a charity intended to help children with cancer! Every time we see Donald Trump Jr on our doom-screens, we get another glimpse into Jr's downward spiral. And with every additional crime that all of president Trump's children become implicated in, the more and more we can see that this family is rotten to the core. 

If Trump Jr is Amber Sweet, then Ivanka is Luigi. In Repo, Luigi can be described as nothing short of a homicidal maniac. I am not saying that Ivanka commits murder, at least not directly, but she does hold a lot of power in the White House. Spend any time learning about the machinations of the White House, particularly in the early days, and you will learn Ivanka competed with Melania for a voice in the administration, and still works for the White House today. Even if you exclude all of the shady business ties, such as the dozens of Chinese patents (including for voting machines!!!) Ivanka has filed, clearly the boundaries of nepotism do not exist for this family. Luigi somehow kills multiple people in the movie and faces no consequences for it. How can this be? Obviously corruption, but that is too simple. If there were multiple checks and balances at one point that would have forced Luigi to face justice for his crimes, they have obviously failed to come to roost in the movie. The obvious common denominator between today and the world of Repo is that those who want power will do anything to obtain and maintain it. Does the public know about every murder committed by Luigi? Does the public know about every crime committed by Ivanka (and also by proxy her husband Jared Kushner, who by the way, failed to pass mandatory security clearances but still has access to the intelligence of our government)? Jared intentionally made it difficult for many of the states hit hardest by covid-19 in the early weeks to acquire the necessary medical supplies because the electorate did not vote for Trump in 2016. That. IS. MURDER. Just as Luigi calls the common citizens in Repo "filthy mice", “Jrvanka” (and the Right at greater) frames the nation as two groups: us and THEM. Luigi is much less calculated, but the comparisons are there. If given the chance, the Trump and Largo family will kill because of their sociopathy, greed, and egos. 

Admittedly I don't have as compelling of a comparison for Eric Trump and Pavi. However I will say that both Pavi and Eric do the bidding for their father's empire, and I would also argue that both feel like they have to compete to get a modicum of attention and love from a paternal figure devoid of basic empathy. And at the end of the day, they do not reject their father's tyranny. And honestly that is enough of a comparison for me. 

Last but not least, I can't ignore the fact that the official Republican Party platform for the 2020 election is loyalty to Trump in the absence of any other political or philosophical idea. A majority of the speakers at the Republican National Convention were members of his family. Their pitch to Americans is “Just Trust Us”. However, a quarter million Americans aren't here to agree or disagree with that statement. With each passing day, more and more Americans are getting sick, to the tune of tens of thousands of cases a day on average currently. The Largo family and GeneCo are not much different. Remember that scene in 21st Century Cure where Shilo and Graverobber are in a mass grave where we can see truck loads of humans being added to the pile of corpses? 

The only real thing separating the corpses from the rest of the city is a poorly constructed brick wall and the years of propaganda that normalizes what I imagine would be a terrible pungent smell of death. 

The entire Trump family came into the first presidential debate without masks. The president was literally sick with a virus that statistically speaking, could kill his opponent; and he was on stage shedding this incredibly contagious virus screaming and shouting, spreading his droplets everywhere. The Trump family failed to show up early enough to be tested for covid before the debate. 

This was not an accident. Jared Kushner bragged to journalist Bob Woodward back in April that Trump was going to take the country "back from scientists". As of this past weekend, we learned that Trump is floating around the idea of firing our nation's leading disease expert Anthony Fauci in a time where our cases, deaths, and hospitalizations from covid-19 are surging. It is almost grotesquely poetic how similar this is to GeneCo. GeneCo is a company in the healthcare industry, but they exploit the worst parts of society, which I will go into very soon. And in its effort to achieve maximum quarterly profits, the ends always justify the means, even if that results in fascism and excess death/suffering. Rotti's body guards kill the doctor who gives him his grim diagnosis. Trump didn't kill the doctors treating him during his recovery with covid, but information we got from the White House doctors were straight up WEIRD. We witnessed a Gentern being killed by Luigi in the Mark It Up Scene for no other reason besides existing in the proximity of him. Trump has spread misinformation about how there's more money to be made when a doctor declares a death as a covid death. I am finding it hard to see the difference. I think I've made my point regarding the parallels of the Trump and Largo family quite clearly, but you may see additional points I bring up as the rest of my essay unfolds. 

Society is complex with more nuance than we give it credit to. The different ways that various groups of people interact with are endlessly interesting, and one of the reasons I love Repo so much is because there's an incredible amount of unpacking that you can do, even in the absence of written dialogue about it. 

If you don't know, Repo started out as a story originally penned as "The Necromerchant's Debt", which gave the Graverobber character a more active role in the world crafted by Darren Smith and Terrace Zdunich. When watching the movie Repo! The Genetic Opera, the Graverobber is certainly a character seen in multiple scenes, but in a lot of ways, his importance is left out. An entire scene was cut from the film, see Needle Through a Bug below if you're interested. 

Regardless the parts that we do see are still greatly impactful. Graverobber is essentially the symbolized "other" living in a world that is greatly stratified by social class, and he's doing what he can to survive. 

Now if you have been living on this planet we call Earth and have ever paid attention ever, you probably have noticed that there are a lot of power structures that influence the resources and opportunities that aid in our development and maintenance of our needs. The access to being able to elevate ourselves above basic survival are typically contingent upon a few things, one namely our ability to draw a paycheck. As I mentioned in my last essay, so many things went wrong to have what would equivalently be either a drug trafficking felony in today's terms or maybe theft, result in permissible extra-judicial murder. And I am not saying that Trump's bragging of the extra-judicial murder of an ANTIFA activist is at all related, but look at the way Trump compares his dissidents with the way GeneCo treats Graverobbers.

 We are experiencing the early stages of economic collapse, millions of people are hungry, soon-to-be evicted, jobless. And yet, the Republicans in power just HAD to rush through a Supreme Court justice. When arguing against lockdowns that would have saved lives, the Right spent countless hours arguing about increase suicide, drug use, poverty, domestic abuse, blah blah blah, you know all the things that were there and as equally as important pre-pandemic? And they did NOTHING to help mitigate this disaster beyond the bill that was passed this spring. The house passed the HEROES Act back in May, and senate majority leader Mitch McConnel declined to take a vote on it. 

Never mind the fact that landlords are still expected to pay the banks their mortgages on their investment properties. Never mind the fact that rent wasn't cancelled. Never mind that the Trump administration sought to prevent any oversight into the first bill passed previously to prosecute fraud. So you know, we can make sure the money went to small business owners, and not instead to the many, many crony ties to the administration who were approved for huge amounts of money. Honestly to think about this is kind of sickening, particularly when you relate it back to Repo and my essay I wrote on fascism.

I could probably talk all day about our failure with the "War on Drugs", but I feel like you can probably see based on the efficacy of its policies that drugs still exist and people are still abusing them. I bring this up because the Graverobber's occupation is essentially a drug dealer. However he sells a counterfeit of zydrate derived from the body of a bug who naturally borrow in a corpse's body, which is and also isn't stealing from the corpse / their estate, but is somehow still "bad" enough that you can legally be killed "on site" if a Gene Cop thinks you're harvesting the blue brain goo. I mean this entire concept makes my brain hurt. 

The Graverobber, as a concept, is a perfect example of the enemy who is simultaneously the biggest and the least threat, and the only way to stop them is to kill them before they can appeal before the jury of their peers or go to prison to pay for their crimes. And I am sure the propaganda that justifies this is beautifully orchestrated. It literally mimics Russian propaganda, AKA the biggest foreign intelligence threat since, I don’t know, the Cold War? I can picture authoritarian stump speeches now: 

"Here the Graverobber who comes in the night, tempting your children. They sell the promise of a good time, but did you know they are raping your daughters for this drug?? They can get your husband hooked on zydrate, and you won't know it's coming until he comes home unrecognizable. These thugs are stealing your grandmother's ring off her corpse, and you will find her half-rotted corpse thrown askew across her tombstone when you go to pay your respects."

And yet Graverobber defends himself:

"Industrialization has crippled the globe (Enjoy GeneCo's day and nighttime formula of Zydrate) Nature failed as technology spread (Ask a gentern if Zydrate is right for you) And from this wake a market erected (Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal) An entire city built on top of the dead! And you can finance your bones And your kidneys For every market a submarket grows But best you be punctual With making your payments Lest it be you on the concrete below It's quick! It's clean! It's pure! It could change your life! Rest assured! It's the 21st century cure! And it's my job To steal and rob GRAVES!" 

He then goes into detail about how this is just the cost of doing business with his modern world. How many of our current and future stories by those who will not make a single sentence in our history books will be casted as enemies of the state who were ultimately just trying to make end's meet? You can deport the illegal immigrant but neglect to prosecute the American company who hired them to work here? How is that much different? If the people in Repo need this drug to cope with the deaths of their loved ones and their livelihoods, then what does that say about the soul of their nation? 

If you are still with me at this point, I want to thank you so much. I am going to conclude on a fairly heavy topic, but it is one worth having. Organ repossessions in Repo are genocide and in America, we are currently also committing genocide. 

The whole premise of the film is the justification that those who fail to make payments on their surgeries deserve to have their organs repossessed, because what other reality is there with unrelenting end-stage capitalism? People are losing their whole lives as I type this, through no fault of their own. Most Americans cannot afford a $400 emergency expense pre-covid-19. Millions are unable to pay for basic life expenses, such as rent, healthcare or food. Our president specifically shoved a Supreme Court justice because he wants the American Healthcare Act to be deemed too unconstitutional for public policy. Never mind the 100+ million Americans with pre-existing conditions. Never mind the millions who acquire their healthcare through the ACA marketplace. Never mind the fact that we are in a once-in-a-century PANDEMIC. Never mind that we spend more per capital on healthcare than anywhere else in the world. Never mind that the Right does not have ANY sort of plan to replace something in its place. How could MILLIONS die in an organ failure crises in Repo anyways? We already know that the Trump administration already stopped caring about covid deaths when we learned it was hurting people of color disproportionality than the general population. 1 out of 1000 black Americans have died from covid. Reread that sentence. If you don't believe me, go out and seek those facts for yourself. When we think of genocide we think of Hitler killing thousands of people via gas chambers. But there are SO many other steps that lead to the normalization of that. 

Undesirables, aka the "others", are easy to discard. Is it a surprise to anyone that ICE gynecologists are removing the uteruses of detainees? I almost made my whole essay about that one controversy alone. Genocide is insidious like that. 

"Oh but if she didn't want that hysterectomy, she shouldn't have tried to come to America for a better life, even if that's what my ancestors did." 

Of course not, she's the "other", and you're the law-abiding citizen. You were able to afford the extra $30 a month for the upgraded booby package that gave an otherwise unremarkable kidney transplant a fun twist by including breast implants. The orphan who works the streets because his parents died during the plague who needed a new pancreas because insulin became too expensive is threatening your suburbs. Bonus points if the orphan has a hint of melanin in his skin or if your daughter shows favor towards his antics, completely ignoring the fact that his mommy and daddy were killed by preventable disease. I have no idea if this was intentional or not, but look at the makeup of people who get their organs repossessed in Repo and try not to tell me there's a trend. Yes it could have been the coincidence of casting, but nevertheless it is worth mentioning. We don't see many people of color in this movie, but of the few we see, they get murdered by GeneCo/Wallace. And I don't care how stupid coincidences are because that is exactly what is happening with covid-19. The so-called essential, working class citizens (who are disproportionally POC) are putting their whole life on the line to serve everyone else who works at home. 

The ends justifies the means, kill enough elderly and the federal government won't have to pay out on social security. Force everyone to get back to work and fuck you if you think you deserve money for the hours you weren't allowed to work (oh and by the way we want to make it so you can't sue for covid-19 related liabilities). Oh you lost your job, "try something new", as told by Ivanka Trump earlier this summer. 

My main point is if you let fascism get control, they will normalize genocide and put you in jail for even making the connections of corruption. "Millions of people dead from organ failure, what's adding a few more to the pile in the name of law and order?" "The only good Democrat is a dead Democrat". Once again, I am failing to see the difference. 

Okay I threw a lot at you just now, and the fact you made it to the end is a miracle. If you skip around because you have a squirrel brain like me, I thank you as well. The fact we get out of bed everyday and do anything right now is a miracle and I know attention can be finite. 

I am writing this on the eve of the United States General election after having wanting to write this since June of this year. I am tired. We are ALL Shiloh right now. Our lives have been on pause. "I must be brave", "I'll capture it", "Run back inside". Yeah girl, same! I haven't talked about her much throughout any of my essays, but I have to give credit where credit is due. 

Humans are a resilient creature. We have millions of years of experience on this Earth, and much of our survival has been based on pure dumb luck. But we have blown so many other species out of the water in one way alone, and that is our ability to communicate. 

We don't have to let people who exploit our weaknesses control us. The sociopaths who try and run our society did not historically aid in our survival. They didn't care if we ate the mushroom that killed us or would have protected us when threatened by wildlife, it was our tribe. The Right has successfully hijacked that bond between the self and the tribe so that it can fit the needs of sociopathy and greed. It is not normal for a president to tell a nation that "it is what it is" when over 100k citizens die from a preventable disease. Do not let the sociopaths throw us in that tiny pine box in a mighty small drop in a mighty dark plot, hastening the trip to our epilogue. Because every inch you give, they will take a mile and charge you by the hour. Never forget that.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 4: The EED: Emotional Exposition Dump. Or why THIS is not friendship

So here we are. The last part of this 45 page three parter, meant to be about what Sam really means to the crew. And what have we seen so far in the previous parts? That Sam is not just their underappreciated, but downright exploited slave (yeah, did you know that in ancient Greece slaves supposedly had more rights than Sam in this one? At least they could buy out their freedom one day), that Dobson has no idea how to genuinely pace a story, turning what could have been a decent 100 page story if planned out and presented with more care into a 45 page short snore fest and that Hat Andy’s idea for jokes are either based on abusing token buttmonkeys, turning annoying memes into even more unfunny jokes or making dark comedy with dead orphans.

At least when South Park makes jokes about children dying, they are appropriate in that dark setting and the death is still in some way handled or refered to as a horrific event. In Dobson’s case however, it just leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

Sorry, I just can’t get over the orphanage thing. If Dobson wanted the reason for Sam leaving be that he finds out someone he cared about from his old life is dead, that is one thing. But did this asshole have to destroy an entire building with countless victims to do it? Couldn’t he just have one person die and the rest be still at that place? Honestly, I think it would have been funnier and more meaningful emotionally, if Alex and Co actually interacted with people from Sam’s past and in doing so learn more about him as a person, by genuinely visiting a still standing orphanage. Give the comic some meat on the bones and in doing so actually create the impression this comic is truly about Sam and not just about characters doing random stuff in relation to finding him. Instead Dobson goes for a literal overkill, which he then does not even treat as a tragedy but as a joke.

Dobson, THIS is a better and more dignified joke about orphans than the shit you did.

You got outclassed by Chuck Lorree of all people on this planet, you disgrace of a storyteller. A storyteller who can’t even keep his own barely existing continuity in the Alex-verse straight, now that I think of it. After all, according to Legends, the orphanage was closed and all the orphans were sold out to others, with Sam being the last of the litter

Which again is just unintentionally more horrific than Dobson likely intented. But you know, dumb people don’t know when they do dumb shit.

But I digress Let us just get into the last part. In which we finally see the “emotional” pay off of everything that happened so far.

 Spoilers, this is my reaction to that pay off.

And here is what everything led up to now.

 Sam ran away, because he wants to say his final farewell to his sister figure, we never knew about at all and about whom we do not learn one single thing really.

 Where do I begin with how this revelation fails?

Let’s start with the fact that this in execution does not have the emotional impact that was intended. And why is that? Because Dobson doesn’t bother to actually introduce us to the sister as a character.

If I may digress a bit to talk about One Piece here: In the manga, oftentimes Oda will “interrupt” an ongoing story arc to feature flashback chapters, through which he tells about past events referenced in the “present” chapters prior. Through those flashbacks he further gives meaning to why in present time the characters facing certain foes or having to win in their current situation, is so important, even on an emotional level. In short, those flashbacks are no interruptions, they are integral in giving those story arcs emotional weight.

Because now we are not just “told” why we should care about things and people, we have been shown why we should care. The old rule of “show, don’t tell” being followed on.

A good example from a more “recent” storyline I can think of, is through the flashback chapters of the Dress Rosa story arc, where we are not only being shown how De Flamingo took over the kingdom of Dress Rosa and brought pain and misery over its people for years to come, but also the past of characters such as the gladiator Rebecca and Mr. Soldier, her father figure that raised her up from the time she was 10 and De Flamingo took over… only for the flashbacks to also reveal properly how Mr Soldier is not just a father figure for her that took her in, but her biological father Kyros, who had been turned into a toy by one of De Flamingo’s henchmen via a power, that also took Rebecca’s memories of her dad away so she never identified the toy as her dad.

This way Oda achieves multiple things at once; Among other things, he establishes how evil De Flamingo is, how tragic Mr Soldier and Rebecca’s lives really are, adding to us the readers wanting to see them and Luffy beat De Flamingo into a pulp and it makes the later “present day” moment when Mr. Soldier and many other victims turn back to normal and Rebecca regains her memories and is reunited with her dad so much more sweeter. Cause now we care.

Truth be told, I myself believe that Oda is one of few storytellers on this planet, who truly has “mastered” the technique of emotional flashback storytelling.

A technique Dobson could have used in this part of the story, but didn’t. Cause honestly, the way he tells how Sam’s sister was “important” to our poor cabin boy is not emotionally engaging from a storytelling perspective. We are told she is important, but we learn genuinely nothing about her, not even what her name was and what she looked like except from that one picture in the locket from over 15 pages ago. Nothing about how “close” she and Sam truly were is revealed through showing, only telling and as such we don’t even begin to care for her relationship with Sam and how her loss is genuinely important to him. So the main goal of this story, to make us the readers feel something for Sam aside of pity for how he is treated by his supposed friends, has not been achieved.

 … Dobson, you are a hack. You can’t even use flashbacks, a basic technique in the realm of storytelling, to show us why we should “care” more, heck, even at all, about Sam and his loss.

If you just had adjusted a few things, you could have had something good here.

By adjustments I mean the following: Take the first page of this chapter as well as the first panel of the second page, and combine them into the final page of the previous chapter. In doing so creating a proper cliffhanger for part two. Then start chapter 3 of with a few pages (lets say 6 or so) showing young Sam and his sister interacting in the orphanage in doing so turning her from a nameless plotdevice into a genuine person to care about. And then use content of page 2 and 3 of this chapter, to elaborate on their relationship, potentially with small cuts always between present day Sam at the grave explaining himself and saying his farewells, with pictures of the past showing what they meant to each other.

 But nope. This very basic idea a fanfic writer now has come up with, a fanfic writer who never studied literature or took writing classes by the way, something I doubt you did at college the more I read your work, has never crossed your “superior” mind.

Also, I find Sam’s text on page 3 really, really backwards in a way. Like, I get that we are meant to consider it a good thing Sam is this way. You know, being genuinely selfless and wanting to make others happy. And don’t get me wrong, generosity and selflessness are virtues I hold in high regard. But the way Sam talks about how he just wanted her to be happy while sacrificing any fulfillment of basic needs for himself feels more like a pathological disorder in that case than something to reach for. In fact, psychology speaks from different forms of generosity and the thing Sam describes here is likely “compulsive giving” or “unrelenting generosity”, a pathological variant that can be highly toxic for all people affected by it.

Funny how Dobson, a person who wants to claim he is all for mental healthcare, is essentially “promoting” the positivity of a psychological disorder via Sam.

 Then again, this also feels more like Dobson putting words into Sam’s mouth (in a literal sense) to retroactively make Sam’s treatment look less horrid. Cause now Sam doesn’t just do all the work because he is ordered around, he deep down is “happy” doing all of the work and gain not even some basic respect in return, because he cares so deeply for his friends.

… I feel myself get livid again here.

And the next few pages don’t really help me “calm down”.

 Cause now the “justifications” just go on. The thing that is meant to be a heartfelt farewell turning into Sam “justifying” that hey, it must be good that he ended up with Alex and her crew. Cause after all, by being abducted years ago and being treated as a slave who in the ginger’s eyes is worth less than lint, he likely avoided dying of shitting his pants and a crushing roof. Ignoring the fact that he was going to be sold out anyway back then and would have potentially ended up with a more generous master than the crew of non Captain Syrup.

Also, just all of the shit going on in page 6. Sam asking his “sister” to be at peace, when likely, if the girl could still talk, she may even just ask Sam the following: Who the heck are you. Cause really, if you think about it, if Sam did all the nice things for her in secret, did the girl even realize she had a “big brother” figure to watch over her? Also, him saying he is happy and he is doing quite alright for himself?

All the pictures of him sighing and looking in misery in this story alone, plus the cavalry of strips I posted about how Sam is abused in the first part of this post series tells me another story.

Finally, Sam’s message “At least now, we are both free”? Sam, she is dead, likely having died in pain when a house crushed on her, weakened by a deadly disease and traumatized by other children around her dying of said disease. And you are stuck with a bunch of people that haven’t shown to care for you up until this story and the only reason they may even care for you now is out of “sympathy” because you lost your sister figure, not because they genuinely love and care for you as a person. As far as I am concerned, you would be better off being the slaveboy of some nymphomanic pirate princess in the world of Berserk than you are on this plane of existence.

And now that the “emotional” farewell is out of the way, Dobson can go back to focus on the characters he really cares about in this shit anyway: Little Bitch Annie, lesbian chocolate rain Miroku and Deadpool’s pubes.

 Oh Alex, you are such a rascal. You really make me want to shoot you with a crossbow, stab you in the eye, hurl you out a window and shove explosives where the sun won’t shine.

Yeah yeah, you are a pirate, but that doesn’t mean you need to be that awful as a person or even protagonist.

Christ. For someone who complains how toxic Walter White is to the point he believes “sympathizing” with the character turns you into a nazi, Dobson certainly is blind to how awful Alex really is, particularly as protagonist in a comic series intented for little kids. Compared to her, I can think of freaking slasher movie villains with more of a moral compass. Like say what you want about Jigsaw, at least he never victimized genuine children or teenagers.

And Talus, thanks for ruining the “emotional” moment Sam “earned” by pointing out how weird it is he kissed a gravestone. Also, I am glad I know what happens in the next pages or else I would assume Alex’s great idea includes to dig up his sister and turn her into a life sized doll for Sam to cuddle.

No, their ideas to assure he is emotionally save and to redeem themselves for years of taking him for granted/hurting him, is to throw him a surprise party.

… you know, I think you may be the only individuals in fiction, that Pinkie Pie would think do not deserve to throw a party or get one thrown for.

 But I guess Sam is just so nice, he even throws you a party for no apparent reason.

Either that or now that his “sister” is dead he will overcompensate even more and this is the next destructive stage of his compulsive generosity.

… Sam, I am sorry for your loss. But you need to get help. Once by the authorities who will hopefully get rid of Alex and then by some psychologist who helps you redefine your own self worth.

By the way, I find it funny that the banner he made also actually only mentions Talus, Atea and Captain Daphne with a bad hair day. It just confirms that Peggy either never bothered to join the others or that Dobson developed an early onset of dementia and totally forgot about the fact that the midget is a genuine character in this trainwrack. And I am convinced the later is the case, which really just makes me wonder how someone is able to do that. To forget a major character of the thing they create and want to turn into a money making franchise. Imagine if Disney did e.g. a sequel to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, only to forget about the god damn dwarves themselves.

At least Talus finally realizes he is unworthy to get a party thrown or be Sam’s friends. Good. Now jump into a wood chipper and free ourselves from your existence you dog beaver thing.

Content of the next page in a just alternate universe… Alex: You are a better human being than I could ever be and this is all because my creator is a hack who does not know how to create genuinely likable personalities.

The reality:

 FUCK YOU, ALEX! FUCK YOU AND THE BIKE PUMP YOU FLEW IN ON! Atea and Talus have learnt more than you about what it means to be a friend and they don’t even bother to punch you in the face for still being the biggest red haired  raging cunt since Asuka from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

If this is how Dobson thinks “friends” should treat each other, it is no wonder he has a friendless background. Hey, Hat Andy, if you want to emulate manga, may I suggest you just become even more blatantly about it and simply copy paste One Piece? Cause Luffy at least knows how to be a friend. How much does he care for his friends, strangers and even at times former enemies of his?

He cares so much, that e.g. when a special military force that beat the crap out of him got hands on his crewmate Nico Robin, he did THIS:

He declared war on the world government. Fuck, even Jack Sparrow, who is an opportunistic jackass, in a movie where everyone stabs the others at least three times in the back, was less selffish than Alex, when he gave up his chance on immortality as Captain of the Flying Dutchman, just so Will would live in some form.

Metalbeard from the Lego Movie cared more about doing the right thing than anyone in Alex the pirate did. You created the worst friends and “heroes” I have ever seen in a webcomic since the entirety of sinfest. Congratulations for that accomplishment, Dobson. It really takes a special kind of anti-talent to show such level of not understanding the power of friendship as one of the most basic tropes in storytelling, to the point a show about pastel colored equines managed to profit of it for nine years.

 WOOOOO! We are the worst, we are the worst!

And look, Uncle Pennywise’s scrotum is back.

Anyway, here are the last two pages of this thing, to end on what is meant to be a whimsical note because Sam actually gets something from Alex that is not a beating or verbal abuse.

 Too bad anything that would feel heartwarming about this is drowned by a) me actually remembering all the shit Alex, the crew and the writer pull to get to this point (from abusive neglect of the characters to pathetic emotional manipulation on a narrative level) and b) the weird rapey face Uncle Peggy makes in the picture. Like Jesus, did Dobson try to emulate the Burger King here?

But hey, this story is over. And who knows, perhaps from this moment on, Sam will actually be treated better overall in the comic and Dobson will spend time actually developing an overall plot and the world of this com-

Tom Kenny: ONE COMIC STRIP LATER

And it is back to business as usual.

... How much would I need to pay for someone on the internet to write an alternate ending to the story where it turns out Sam actually poisoned the food at the party and while Alex is slowly dying, a now evil Sam who has finally broke under years of abuse, is going to become a genuine threatening pirat? that is after he villain monologues to Alex how much she sucks before scalping her?

Wow, I am entering a dark place right now. I think I need to take a break.

So I am going to give my final verdict on this story with the next post around the weekend most likely. Cause that is how much time I will now spend rereading One Piece and watching the Pirates of the Carribean movies in addition to playing the Pirates level of Kingdom Hearts 3, in order to forget this shit and remind myself why I think pirates are cool.

[extemporaneousmusings]

2020 reflections below

To be honest, 2020 has been the best year I’ve had since 2016. Obviously on a global scale it has been absolutely devastating, and there are aspects of my life that were significantly impacted by the pandemic—I had to leave Greece suddenly in March, several months earlier than anticipated, and in doing so lost some crucial time that I was supposed to have spent with the physical materials of my dissertation—but on a personal level this year has been the most stable and comfortable I’ve been since my accident in 2017. I was not dealing with a massive physical or mental health crisis, or the immediate aftermaths of either of those things, and that is something I do not take lightly.

I spent the first 3 months of the year hiking across Greece, basically. It was really tough—I was pretty depressed, although my meds had just been boosted so I was feeling better than I had in fall of 2019, and obviously missing Ian and Macy was not an easy thing to sit with—but I did it! I had literally planned my entire life for the past 5 years around this time in Greece, and even though we didn’t completely finish the program and the scheduled trips, I still accomplished what I set out to do: I was able to do the hikes and got to explore the country that I love. After my accident, my sole goal was to be able to get my ankle to a place where I could do the program. It was really fucking hard, and there’s still so much more work I can do on my ankle (which is a source of deep resentment for me, something I’m working on) but at the end of the day, I got myself to a place where I could, with some difficulty, do this really physically strenuous thing that had been such a major goal of mine for years. I got to travel the Greek countryside and see hundreds of archaeological sites in a way that is basically impossible unless you’re doing it with the American School. Mentally I was not as present as I would have liked to be, which is something I think I’ll always regret, but I gave it all I had, mentally and physically. Even if I am hazy on a lot of the details, I’ll remember the exultant physical sensations of reaching a peak and taking in the view below, the sweet succulent taste of oranges in the height of their season, plucked straight off the tree, searching every museum for my pots, pushing myself physically to the limit every day but still being able to wake up and do it again the next, trying regional cuisine from across the country, and the camaraderie that all of us built together on that bus and on those hikes. And of course, the saving grace and defining point of the school year for me was spending time with Ev. He already was one of my best friends, so the opportunity to go on this adventure together was so exciting, but he really kept me sane, made me laugh with his stupid fucking jokes, stayed in the back of the pack with me when I was having especially bad ankle days, and our companionship brought me so much joy and support. It’s very likely that we’ll never live in the same place together again, and I will always cherish the time we had together this past year.

My life since returning to Cincy in March has been very stable and consistent. Except for having to TA on campus on Friday’s during the fall, we’ve both just been at home. E’s been out of a job the whole time, but we are very lucky that (bc Cincy is so affordable) just my grad student salary has been able to financially support us. Money is tight, all my savings are gone after Macy’s surgery in July, but we are very lucky to have support systems to rely upon should we need to (fingers crossed we won’t), and that for now, just my income alone can pay all of the bills so that Ian does not have to be on the front lines at the bar, physically interacting with everyone who is still comfortable and selfish enough to be out partying during a global pandemic.

The biggest joy for me of this year was getting to spend 8 beautiful months with Macy. We had her for 3 months before I left for Greece last September, but I feel so blessed to have had more time with the three of us as a family this year, and to spend so much uninterrupted time with her because we were just in the apartment all of the time. I’ve written what seems like a lot about losing her, so I’m not really going to dwell on it, but despite her death I am still so happy to have had the time with her that I did, and to have loved and been so loved in return. I’m hopeful that I can build a relationship with Lulu like I had with Macy, and that as she settles in and settles down, and becomes secure in this new home, that our new family of three can thrive. Another element to this is the fact that basically our only physical socialization with friends came from going on dog walks, mainly with S&D. Since March we’ve seen them almost weekly and it’s been such a good routine and way to see them safely. We’ll all be getting more of a workout with Lulu, though. She’s much more intense about walks than Macy was.

When I first got back from Greece, I needed to just luxuriate in being home, and shortly after that I fell into the hockey rabbit hole. Which has been lovely, truly! I had been feeling a bit stagnant fandom wise, and it was so nice to have a whole new world opened to me, and to see a bunch of my mutuals all going through the process simultaneously was so fun. I still haven’t written anything, and I’m definitely not as involved as a lot of people, but I’ve never been someone who is super funny in quippy posts or makes a lot of connections quickly. But I’ve really been enjoying it, and I’m hoping that in 2021 I’ll be able to post some fic and make some more friends. My ephemeral relationships with people on tumblr have been important to me for many years, but I definitely have appreciated it the most this past year. Tumblr is a really big part of my life, and I love interacting with people/when people interact with my personal posts. It’s nice to have found a little pocket of the internet where I am safe and comfortable and around people I genuinely like.

Getting into hockey did divert my attention from my mental health, and the ways it was impacting my work, for a solid two months, though. I very much used it as a crutch to avoid some bigger issues that needed my focus, which I was diverting to think about big men fucking each other. In August I started seeing a therapist again. We had worked together briefly after my manic episode, because my old therapist had gotten a new job so she took me on for like a month before I left for Greece, and working with her again has been so helpful. I am so fortunate to have healthcare through grad school that makes going to therapy extremely affordable. It’s seriously been a saving grace for me. By working on my mental health consistently I have brought myself to a better, more stable and comfortable place than I’ve been in in years, and I feel empowered to continue on this path to keep accumulating skills and mental fortitude to help me in the future.

As a result of my consistent work on my mental heath, I’ve also been able to develop a much better, healthier relationship with work/my research more specifically. This summer I was in a place where I felt like it was impossible for me to write my proposal, let alone an actual dissertation, but I did write my proposal! And I’ve been building up routines and stamina and now feel like I actually can get this PhD. Which is great. I know it’s not going to be easy, and that I have a lot of difficulty ahead of me still, but I feel very confident in my ideas, and I am so much better equipped to handle things than before.

So yeah, I think that’s pretty much it. For 2021, I want to just keep going in the path that I’ve been forging for myself. The next things I’ll be focusing on are more intentionally working with my ankle, to try and alleviate the somewhat antagonistic relationship I have with it, and to feel more physically capable. I think that re-integrating yoga into my life will be big here, it’s been really helpful for me before, but I’ve let it slip, and then we’ll see what else I can do to help with this. I also want to continue to reinforce a work routine that suits me and maintain/adjust it when I (almost certainly) make the move back to Athens in September. And finally, I really want to post some TK/Patty fic! I have some ideas, some word docs, some (imo) well-selected lyrics for titles, and I just need to dig in a little more and try and unclench my mental knot of perfectionism, as I’ve been learning to ease it with regards to work stuff.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Two - No Monkey Business

Victor was awakened by the soft rays of morning sunshine that entered their bedroom through the huge windows. It had been a while since he had slept so long and so much. Since they arrived in  Bali three days ago, they had done nothing but sleep, eat, explore their intimacy and take the occasional dive in the swimming pool. They hadn't even unpacked, since there was no need for clothes. The only thing Victor would put on would be his robe, when he opened the door to the bellhop that brought their meals. During the past few days it was just them and their naked bodies, drowning in their senses, drinking from their love and lust.

If someone told Victor a year ago that he would spend a great part of a week in the nude, disregarding work and doing nothing but having sex and recharging for more sex, he would think they were insane. But if he was to be truly honest, he didn't mind the current situation at all. In fact, he wondered if they could replicate it back at home, maybe one day a week. He had everything he needed and truly enjoyed: good wine, good food, extraordinary weather, and Andrea in his arms, undistracted from the ordeals of the world. Past him would think he would have died of boredom, just laying around doing nothing, but he happily spent his time counting her eyelashes while she slept, or running his fingers gently over her soft skin, making her sigh in her slumber.

Victor was amazed at how much one can discover when sharing stillness with a loved one. They spent nights talking about the most varied things, telling stories of their lives before the other, laughing, drinking and playing, or simply enjoying the view holding hands, sharing a smile or a stolen glance, as they heard the ocean waves crash in the distance. Bali had been an excellent choice for a honeymoon destination. Nature brought in them the peace to fully focus on each other, and they had all the privacy in the world, acting on their hearts contentment.

He rolled over in bed, trying to find her warmth, only to find her place empty. Victor found it rather odd that he hadn’t awakened when she left; he had always been a light sleeper, and his protective instinct would jolt him awake if Andrea moved a little bit out of the ordinary. That's how Victor realized how peaceful he had been for these few days: he was becoming a heavy sleeper. Lifting his head a bit, he looked around through the tulle curtains on the bed, trying to find his loved one. The sound of water splashing outside made him look in that direction, and there he found her, in all her naked glory, swimming in their private infinity pool. That was all the motivation he needed to peel himself off the bed.

"Well, good morning, handsome." She swam to the edge of the pool, noticing him arrive.

"I missed you in bed." He kneeled in front of her, lowering his head for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly." Her hand ran across his naked chest, the coolness of the water making him shiver slightly.

“You’re wet.” He complained. “I’m going to order breakfast, are you in the mood for something in particular?”

“Just that awesome coffee.” She relaxed her body in the water, making it float. “The rest is up to you.”

“Do a few more laps.” He teased, leaving with a kiss on her forehead. “That’s not a bathtub, you know.”

He couldn’t hear clearly what she said, but he still chuckled, picturing how cute she must have looked all riled up due to his nagging. He ordered a full breakfast with the thing he knew she liked, pancakes, sunny side up eggs, and the local fruits.

“Do you want to go to the monkey cemetery today?” Andrea asked as she happily ate her breakfast.

“Sanctuary.” Victor corrected.

“God, why do I keep saying that?” She sipped her coffee. “Weird.”

“I’m starting to fear for the monkeys.” He joked.

“You’re hilarious.” She threw him a napkin that he easily avoided, chuckling. “I was reading about it earlier, it sounds really mystical. They have three temples of worship there, including one for Shiva. It’s too bad we can’t get in.”

“Since when do you care for Hindu religion?” Victor frowned. “Or any religion at all? Or Shiva?”

“Do you want to go or not?” She pressed, unwilling to reveal her reasons.

“Get ready.” He got up. “I’m asking the resort for a tour guide.”

The tour guide dropped them by the two large stones statues at the entrance of the Ubud Sacred Monkey Forest, but not before making some important recommendations: never look the monkeys in the eye as they may become aggressive, avoid sudden movements if the monkey goes to one’s lap, and never try to pry things out of the monkey’s hands, even if its a personal item. However, Andrea didn’t care much about the monkeys, her interest focused more on the religious culture of the place, and Victor allowed himself to relax a little, knowing that his wife wasn’t interested in trying to pet them.

They walked into the deep of the Forest for a while, monkeys jumping from tree to tree over their heads, until they reached the temple of Shiva. Andrea, who had been extremely talkative the whole time, grew unexpectedly quiet, lost in thought. She sat on a rock, her gaze lost on that temple, as Victor sat in front of her, rummaging his backpack for a water bottle.

“Care to explain the sudden fascination with Shiva?” He asked, uncapping and handing her the bottle.

“Shiva is the god of destruction and renovation.” She simply stated, like it was self-explanatory.

“So?” Victor frowned, annoyed at how vague Andrea could be sometimes.

“Two years ago, I was a completely different person than I am now. I was a fragile woman, recovering from abuse, trying to find my place and purpose in this life. Daniel did more than beat me, he beat me down. He left me for dead, helpless and hopeless. Look where I am now. I am strong and assertive. I built myself a career, got married. I don’t fear life any more.” She paused, turning her gaze from the temple to her husband. “If you knew that some specific god might have aided in such a transformation, wouldn’t you want to thank him?”

“So now you believe in Shiva?”

“I believe that I have changed, for the better. I believe there was indeed a transformation, a renovation of sorts. And I am thankful. To whoever I should be thankful for.” She took a swig of her water, lost in thought again.

“Don’t be too hasty giving all the credit to Shiva. In all fairness, you always had those qualities.” Victor offered with a smile. “Perhaps only now you see them in yourself.”

Immediately, Victor felt something tug the back of his polo, making him freeze. Something was climbing his back. It didn’t take long for him to figure out it was a monkey.

“Don’t move.” Andrea whispered with a smile, watching him closely. “I think you made a new friend.”

Much to Victor’s dismay, this monkey did not come alone. Soon enough, he had three monkeys trying to climb him, tugging the fabric of his pants and his polo, trying to find some food.

“Wow, look at that!” She laughed. “It’s like you are covered in monkey catnip!”

Victor sighed, exasperated.

“Don’t ask me how this happens.” He tilted his head back, trying to avoid getting a monkey’s ass rubbing on his face. “Same happens with cats, I can’t figure out why.” Victor motioned to get up in an attempt to make them leave, but Andrea stopped him.

“No, wait.” She reached for her phone in the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Let me take a picture. I just need to turn this on.”

Victor waited patiently for her to turn on the device, shuddering when the monkey that rested on his shoulder inserted the tip of his tail into his ear.

“You have ten seconds before I get up and shake them off.” Victor warned, disgusted.

But apparently, Andrea was not worried about the picture anymore. She paled slightly, tapping furiously on the screen.

“I have fifteen text messages from Olive asking me to call her back.” She looked at him. “What do you think she wants?”

Before Victor had the chance to answer, one of the monkeys decided that Andrea’s phone was far more interesting than his lap and jumped to the spot next to her, trying to take the phone from her hand.

“What are you doing? No.” She frowned at the cub, taking the phone back absentmindedly. “You can’t have this, it’s not yours.”

Victor’s heart stopped for a moment, expecting a reaction from the animal, but none came. The little monkey scurried away and Victor sighed, getting up slowly, his careful eyes on the monkeys jumping to the ground.

“Put that thing away.” He softly scolded. “You really need to mind your actions he-”

“Aaaaahhh!” Andrea screamed in pain, and Victor turned to her. Apparently, that little monkey’s mother was nearby and jumped from behind her, sinking her teeth in Andrea’s shoulder.

“Don’t move!” Victor ran to her, taking a closer look at her injury, which was now bleeding profusely. “Wait. Let me wash it.”

He emptied the remainder of water in his bottle on Andrea’s shoulder, but to little effect to her wound, that kept stubbornly oozing blood.

“We need to get you to the infirmary.” He stated, frantic, taking Andrea in his arms and bolting to the exit, where the infirmary was located.

“Victor, I can walk! You can put me down, it’s not that bad!” He heard her call.

Even though Victor could hear her voice, he was in no condition to listen. His own heartbeat pounded heavily on his ears as he ran, his mind reeling as he furiously pondered the setbacks and possible solutions of the situation he was facing.

They had received inoculation before the trip, but he foolishly forgot to confirm if rabies was included in the pack, leaving it all in his physician’s hands. There was no way to guarantee that the monkey wasn’t infected, with that or some other disease. Untreated, rabies could kill someone in merely weeks, and Bali was a third world country, with an extremely poor healthcare system, so a vaccine could well not be readily available. And even if Andrea wasn’t infected with rabies, the wound was deep enough and the bleeding considerably profuse to hint damage at a major artery, taking mere minutes for Andrea to bleed to death, which rose the exact same problem as before: they were not in Loveland, where the best doctors were just a phone call away. He would have to get a plane as soon as possible to fly them back, at the risk of becoming a widower right on their honeymoon.

“Victor! Andrea!” He heard the tour guide running towards. “Shit, she got bit?”

“She needs help, she’s bleeding a lot!” Victor took a quick look at her shoulder and back, now drenched with blood, dripping to his arm.

“Come, get in the car, I know a clinic nearby where she can get treated.” The guide led them to the jeep, opening the front passenger door. Victor sat Andrea as the guide opened a water bottle, pouring more water on her wound. He sighed in relief. At least the bleeding had finally stopped.

“See?” He heard his wife’s gentle voice. “I’m ok, it’s not even bleeding anymore. Relax.”

Without a word, and despite Andrea’s protests, Victor unceremoniously transferred her to the back seat and sat beside her, a protective hand around her waist, his other pressing on her wound with some cloth the guide provided, as his lips rested on her temple, wishing it would bring her some comfort. As for him, he would relax when he saw his wife completely safe from harm.

Andrea talked to him the whole way to the clinic, trying to calm him down, but nothing could quiet his worried mind. They weren’t supposed to leave the hotel, maybe only for the occasional stroll, but never take a car and drive for an hour towards the forest. Bali was indeed a paradise, and they went there to enjoy some of the culture, but their intent was to relax, not to venture away.

The clinic looked nice and clean, although very far from Victor’s standards. The doctor carefully analyzed the bite mark, disinfecting it properly. The doctor concluded the wound itself was not dangerous, and certainly not as deep as it looked, and administered a vaccine for rabies. In less than ten minutes they were back in the car, with the recommendation for a lot of rest and fluids, since the vaccine would apparently do more danger than the bite. However, even after the doctor had deemed Andrea would heal properly in the next couple of days, Victor would not be satisfied until the resort physician examined her too.

By the time the doctor left their room with the very same recommendations, Andrea was exhausted. And Victor was worried. And furious.

“I told you it was not that bad.” Andrea tried to appease him, as she laid down on their bed, him sitting beside her. “You were worried for nothing.”

Victor scoffed, but didn’t say a word. He felt the roaring fire of anger inside him, and he was trying his best to keep it in.

“Are you upset?” She spoke again, reaching for his arm. He got up, avoiding her touch. “Victor…”

“I should’ve known better and just stayed in.” He shook his head, feeling his ears grow warmer. “I should’ve known you’d be reckless and do something foolish.”

“Wait.” Her voice was slightly angry, taking offense at his words. “How is this my fault?”

“We had clear instructions.” Victor turned to her and lifted his hand, enumerating the instructions with a show of fingers. “Not to make sudden movements, not to take things from the monkeys, not to make eye contact. You disrespected all three!” His voice became slightly more aggressive, and part of him felt bad for it, but she had been careless. She needed to hear it. “You risked your life out there, and the only reason we are here now is because you got lucky! And for what , Andrea? To read some texts you shouldn’t even be reading in the first place? It’s our honeymoon! Can’t you let go of work even now?”

Victor braced for her angry comeback, but the comeback never came. She simply looked at him with sad eyes, and dove deeper under the comforter.

“You are right, I am sorry, I got distracted.” Her voice was weak and defeated, and that hurt Victor more than any furious retort. “I didn’t reply to any of the texts, and I don’t intend to. I’m sorry I ruined our honeymoon.”

That last sentence was the final slap, the one that ended the discussion. Victor was still furious, but now he was the target of his own rage. At a loss for words, he simply left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her to rest.

Of course she didn’t mean to get hurt. She was startled by the large incoming of messages, and forgot her surroundings. Besides, one can never predict behavior towards a wild animal. She acted out of instinct.

Regretfully, Victor had been extremely unforgiving towards her. It was rather incomprehensible how he was usually so good and putting aside his feelings when making decisions, while with Andrea he simply couldn’t do it. His heart spoke louder every time, jumbling his thoughts and clouding his judgment, and no matter how hard he would try, it would always get the best of him. Victor sighed and poured himself some whiskey from the bar, hoping it would relax him and clear his mind. Sadly, it was to no avail. The only thing that could soothe him was to know Andrea did not resent him.

After a while, he decided to order dinner, making sure he included his wife’s favorite dishes. After the food arrived and he set the table, he went to the room to wake her up, touching her forehead gently to check her temperature. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him sleepily, a neutral expression on her face, instead of the loving one she had for him. Although she didn’t seem to be angry, she was probably still upset.

“Dinner is served.” His hand rested softly on her shoulder, assessing her reaction. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, I mean, It’s a bit tender, but... I’m alright.” She answered with a soft voice, her tone indicating she was open for communication. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Andrea got up slowly with his loving hand helping her. He looked into her eyes, the ones that always gave him so much comfort. Without much thought, Victor pulled her into a hug, his silent apology. She hugged him back, leaning her head on his chest.

“Andrea…” He needed to apologize for being so rude. If only there were words that matched his feelings. He simply couldn’t find them.

“I know the man I married.” She smiled at him. “He may be sometimes harsh, and despite his rational ways, he can blow things way out of proportion, but I know he has a good heart, and he means well. I know he loves me and he cares.” She softly brushed his bangs with her fingers. “And I love and care for him too.”

Victor smiled at the love of his life, finally allowing himself to relax. She was safe, and she was his. And it dawned on him that’s exactly what a happy marriage is supposed to be like. Not perfect, but loving, even when one of them shows his ugly side.

“Maybe the monkeys heard me call that place a cemetery, and thought I wanted to kill them all.” She turned to him with a smirk. “They are not taking any monkey business.”

Victor glared at her, unamused.

“Too soon?” She grimaced.

“I’m the one who almost had a heart attack with your monkey business.” He pulled her closer. “So, yes, too soon.”

Victor held Andrea tenderly, feeling grateful for having her safe in his arms. He wondered if there were any deities watching for her at the moment she was hurt and thanked them for the protection. Just in case.

[irwinkitten]

eye of the storm | a.i

notes: so i originally wrote this last year along with teulu when my great aunt passed away. i had so much grief and i didn’t know how to process or handle it. however, i’ve been looking though old pieces and reworking them, and this beauty came alive, so i decided to share it. enjoy. it is an ashton x oc  warnings: mentions of death word count: 4.2k

buy me a ko-fi (or lunch), please?

-

Ashton could see the group debating on whether to stick around for more drinks or if they should get food. The debate was settled when they realised that they needed something to tide them over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be drinking on empty stomachs.

As they headed out, reaching the first turn on a block, that was when he noticed her.

Her shoulders were hunched over, and when Ashton glanced behind her, he could see why. Without hesitating, he paused, making sure to keep his eyes on her, Calum only pausing a second later when he yelled;

“Hey sweetheart! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Her head snapped up and he was glad he called out. The relief that flooded her features made his heart ache for her, wondering how long she’d been by herself with the group of three men trailing behind her.

He beckoned her over, holding his hand out towards her and she hesitated for a second before rushing towards the invitation, her hand slipping in his. He pulled her into his side, an arm slipping around her shoulders as she tucked herself into his side and he dropped his head to her ear.

“Are you okay?” 

She shook her head minutely.

“Aw man, you getting that piece of ass?” Ashton lifted his head, his features morphing into a scowl. 

“Back the fuck off. If I find out you hurt my girl in any way I’m not afraid to get the cops involved.” The three exchanged wary looks before raising their hands in a surrender before disappearing the way that they’d come.

His own group had only paused a few paces ahead, watched the entire thing fold out. It was only once the other three had gone, he began to pull the unknown girl towards the group.

“We’re getting food and you’re joining us, sweetheart.” His tone held no arguments, but judging from the trembling body, she wasn’t about to argue the offer of comfort and company. He pulled her towards the group and the dynamics changed quickly.

Sierra and Crystal stepped from their partners holds and offered their hands to the new comer who took them gratefully. Both girls looped their arms through the newcomers arms and asked for her name.

Luna.

They asked easy questions about her likes and dislikes until they reached the closest fast food joint and ducked inside. The rest of the group followed, ordering varieties so it could be picked at between the eight of them, nine including Luna.

The two girls pulled the third into the bathrooms and it was only ten minutes after food had been made and collected did they come back to the group, Luna’s face clean of any makeup, the redness around her eyes indicating the tears. Ashton patted the open spot next to him and she perched on the seat shyly until he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“We’ve got you, don’t worry.” His reassurance relaxed her as Calum pushed some food towards her and she smiled gratefully.

They learned she’d just moved over from Britain, that her friend had decided to ditch her early and she’d gotten lost. They had been the first group of people who had helped her, other individuals seemingly walked past her and ignored the group of three that had been trailing her, yelling what they’d do to her.

There was a tremble in her voice, but she pulled in a sharp breath and continued to talk about where she’d moved to, and Ashton realised with a jolt that she was describing the park that was not too far from his place.

That was when he learned she was his new neighbour. 

The night continued, with Luna joining them, drinking and laughing, telling bad jokes that had Ashton snorting his beer and Calum letting out such a laugh that it triggered off the rest of the group.

When they made their way back to his, his being the closest, Ashton walked Luna to her door, making sure she was okay and she thanked him. They exchanged numbers before she headed in and he went to his own home, the rest of the group still up and chatting away.

The following morning, he woke to a text.

‘There’s a thank you breakfast waiting for you guys. You’re more than welcome to come on over.’ And glancing at the time, Ashton knew the others wouldn’t be rousing for another hour and there was no point in even trying to get them to wake up, not even for food.

So he changed into some basketball shorts, pulling on a vest top and tucking his arms into a hoodie as he made his way next door. The morning may have been sunny, but the air was bitter and cold.

He knocked on the door and it opened to find her in her own basketball shorts, a tank top with button down left open, her hair pulled away from her face as she pushed her glasses up her nose and beamed at him.

“Morning, food is still cooking but come on in.” She stepped back and he stepped inside, his lips pulled back into a soft grin as he stepped in.

“Morning. The others will probably be around in another hour or so. Nothing can wake them up at this time, not even the promise of food and coffee.” She laughed. He thought it sounded beautiful.

He joined her in the kitchen, watching as she moved around the kitchen, a soft playlist chiming through as he looked around the room. There were boxes still stacked up around the place.

“So how long have you been here? I noticed the moving vans a couple of days ago.” The question was soft and she smiled gently at him.

“I’ve been here ‘bout a week. Listened to my mum’s advice. Stock the kitchen and then work your way from there. Kitchen is the most important room in the house, because you have your stove for warmth and food to share.” She grinned and it felt infectious, his lips curving up into his own grin.

“A good philosophy to live by.”

“It makes her a great woman. I wanted to keep that going.” He chuckled as he moved from his spot at the bar and stood next to her.

“Okay great chef, what would you like my help with? If you’re cooking for all of us, it’s not fair that I just sit and do nothing.” 

She eyed him carefully before pushing the sleeves of the shirt up to her elbows, his eyes flickering to the array of tattoos that lay on her skin before she handed him a wooden spoon.

“Scramble the eggs, but don’t burn them.” There was a playful glint in her eyes and he laughed as he began to scramble the egg mixture in the pan.

“So what prompted your move over here?”

“I never wanted to stay in England. A relative passed away and left me a good amount of money, which only grew when her properties sold. And even with how... unbalanced the government is at the moment, I still have better job opportunities over here. I know I’ll miss the free healthcare though.” Ashton snorted at that, scrambling the eggs carefully.

“Did you find out where your friend went to last night?” At this, a scoff escaped her lips.

“They decided that they didn’t want to be around the British chick who was gaining a lot of attention. People were getting weird over my accent but they then decided that they were gonna hightail it out of there and just left me. I’m not talking to ‘em at the moment.” She flipped the bacon and Ashton pulled a face.

“Sucks for them, but better news for us. We made a new friend and we get breakfast.” She giggled as they cooked and began to dish up their own plates, making sure to keep the food warm.

“How much longer till they decide to move?” She questioned as she sat at the breakfast bar.

Ashton felt himself grinning as he checked his phone, realising that indeed an hour had easily gone by.

“I’ll send a text to the group chat. I’m gonna bet less than ten minutes.” 

“First person will be over in less than five.” She countered with a grin and he raised an eyebrow.

“Before they arrive, what are we betting on?” 

“If you win? Cooked breakfast for the next week.” He took a bite of the food and immediately agreed to those terms.

“If you win, I’m taking you out and showing you LA properly. Not just the nightlife.” She shrugged.

“If I get swept up by your lifestyle, there will be hell to pay.” She warned him playfully and he grinned as he set his phone on the table. She pulled out hers and clicked on the stopwatch.

“Ready?” He typed out the message.

‘Cute new neighbour has cooked us breakfast as a thank you. I’m going to eat it all if you don’t get over here.’ 

“Set...” His finger hovered over the send button.

Once he hit it and the blue line indicated it had sent he nodded.

“Go.” She hit the timer on the stopwatch.

Both of them were watching the timer creep closer to five and just as it hit four minutes and fifty seconds, there was a knock on her door and she laughed as she paused the stopwatch, making him groan whilst she went to answer the door, a wide grin on her lips.

Calum followed behind her, slightly confused at the joyful greeting he received before he clocked their phones out on the table and noticed the stopwatch. He snorted as he put two and two together whilst she set coffee in front of him.

“You made a bet? You know when it’s food, either it’s going to be me or Mike.” She beamed at him.

“And because you helped me win the bet, you’re currently my favourite. Ashton got default because he helped cook.” Calum snorted into his coffee before he went and made himself a plate.

“No furniture?”

“Not yet. Only had my bedroom stuff delivered the other day. Everything else is gonna arrive in the next couple of days.” She explained and he nodded in understanding as he took the free kitchen stool.

“Everyone else can stand and eat. Also it’s good food, thank you.” 

“No, thank you guys. I didn’t get to really say it last night but you guys probably saved my life. And if you try to deny my thanks I will take away the coffee.” Her tone was playful, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips, so Calum played along.

“Not the coffee! I can’t let you take it from me.” His dramatics drew out another giggle and he found himself smiling. “You’re welcome, then.” He followed on and she nodded her head. Another knock was heard and Ashton got up from his seat, placing his dish in the sink.

“I’ll go let them in, you actually eat please. It’s your breakfast too.” 

“Mitch and Sam headed home, something about pre-booked breakfast plans.” Luke had muttered to Ashton who simply shrugged in return before letting the rest of them in. He tried not to laugh at how tired Michael looked.

“Not one word, Ash.” He warned and Ashton mimed zipping up his lips and throwing away the key, making Crystal giggle. 

Once they had eaten their fill, they began to toss around questions, asking if she needed help with the furniture. 

“I wouldn’t mind a couple of spare pairs of hands. I’ve got the heavy stuff being delivered today I think.” And with that, the group of six firmly agreed that they’d help and make a day of getting to know the new neighbour. 

—

He knew she was in pain. The day she’d received a phone call that had destroyed her world, he was glad he’d been home instead of in the studio like planned.

There was a loud knock on the door and Ashton shifted from the couch, his confusion turning into worry when he saw it was Luna outside. He pulled the door wide open and she jumped.

“Luna, is everything alright?” He could see the tears welling up as she shook her head, pressing her lips tightly together. He didn’t hesitate to pull her inside, shutting the door behind him as he pulled her into the living room and sat her down on the couch.

“What happened sweetheart?” 

“My mum, she-she’s died.” And his heart wrenched as he watched the first few tears fall. He wasn’t overly a cuddly person, but he didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms, her own wrapping around his chest.

“Let it out, sweetheart.” And she sobbed, gut wrenching sobs that broke his heart.

“I only talked to her two days ago, and she was okay.” She got out between the broken noises escaping her. He could only hold her tighter in response, because he knew that words would do no justice to the pain she was currently feeling.

He held her until her sobbing started slowing down and her grip got loser. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered and he shook his head. 

“No, you’re hurting and you’ve not got many people. I know that Cal is coming around with Mali,  Roy and Aubrey later. You’re more than welcome to stay and just enjoy the company.” 

He could see her hesitation, but he could also see the exhaustion she was battling with. 

“You’re staying. Take a nap and relax. You can only do so much whilst out here in LA.” She nodded her head and sank back into the couch. Ashton stayed next to her, her feet pulled into his lap. When her breathing slowed down, he carefully moved from the couch and headed into the kitchen, wiping at the few tears that had escaped. 

He sent a text to Calum.

‘Lune’s around. She’s in bad shape, just found out her mom passed away.’ 

‘Shit. We can reschedule, it’s cool.’

‘Nah, I think being around people will help. Just bring some ice cream with y’all.’

When Calum arrived later on with the others in tow, his eyes took in her sleeping form and the fresh tear tracks. He gave Ashton a confused look.

“She’s been crying in her sleep mostly. She cried herself to sleep earlier. I know that this whole situation is her worst nightmare. She’s out in LA and this happened.” The others headed through. Calum felt his heart go out to her.

“You head through. I’ll stick with her for a bit.” Ashton nodded before heading to the other guests and Calum sat himself on the floor, his head resting against the couch by hers. The silence, even as she was asleep he could feel it was heavy. And he understood.

When she woke up, she gave him a tearful smile and he shifted slightly, touching his head against hers. He could see that she wasn’t quite awake, her hand lifting up and running through his hair. 

He hummed softly and waited for her brain to catch up, but he didn’t discourage her once her eyes went wide.

“You’re calm. If that helps, it’s fine. We’re Aquarians but almost the opposite in attitudes. However, we both have the touchy feely side down to a tee.” He teased her and she let out a soft giggle, finally pulling her fingers away from his hair. He smiled at her. 

“Need another cuddle?” She hesitated before nodding her head, cheeks turning pink at the admission. Calum tsked her before pulling himself onto the couch, allowing her to cuddle into his side, both of his arms wrapping around her tightly and squeezing her gently.

“Never be ashamed to admit you need a hug. You’re going through every kids nightmare right now and if you need a cuddle, you need a cuddle.” She sank further into his embrace and they stayed like that for another thirty minutes. 

He could see she desperately needed it.

“Feeling better?” He asked quietly and she silently nodded her head against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head before the pair began to shift off the couch. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and he shook his head, slinging an arm across her shoulders as they finally made their way out from the living room and headed out to the back porch.

“No thanks necessary. You’re my friend and you’re in pain. I know you’d do the same for us.” He whispered before they greeted the others. Mali held her hand out towards Luna and she took a hold of it, allowing herself to be comforted and falling into Mali’s side. Calum wedged himself on her other side and took mock offence at her choosing Mali over him.

This prompted the small giggles and Ashton felt his chest loosen slightly at the sound. 

Soon the night continued and the chatter was mostly distraction for Luna but it worked and she knew that she had a smile on her lips by the end of the night.

He knew that waiting at the airport was risky, but he couldn’t leave her to arrive alone. He knew that she was desperately hurting and seeing a familiar face would at least ease something. 

He knew that there would be paps before long if he wasn’t careful, but when he spotted her walking through arrivals, he lifted his arm, catching her attention and his chest ached as he watched her bottom lip tremble as she made her way over.

He held his arms out and she practically slammed into him, his hoodie muffling the small sob that escaped her lips. And he knew that it didn’t go as she planned.

It took a few minutes before she finally pulled away, her lips pressed together. 

“Let’s get you home first before the inevitable breakdown.” And despite her tears, she gave him a forced smile, wiping her tears away.

Once they were back at hers, stuff unpacked and thrown into the washing machine, she took his hand and pulled him up to her room and despite the implications, he knew it was her preferred way to cuddle. 

He kicked off his shoes and settled himself on her bed as she got changed. And once she was in sleep shorts and one of his old shirts that she’d managed to kidnap during a drinks accident, she crawled into bed and his arms encased her and it was like a switch.

He’d never heard such gut wrenching sobs, but he knew that she needed to get it off her chest. So he simply soothed her, letting her get it all out and just reminding her that he was there and she wasn’t alone.

Eventually her sobs slowed down and he held her tightly. 

“Better?” 

“No. But I don’t feel so broken.” She finally whispered and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m good superglue. Ask Cal.” He teased and she let out a noise that seemed more like a strangled laugh than anything. 

“It was just, arguments.” She finally whispered. 

Ashton sighed, placing a kiss to the top of her head as he held her tighter. She was always a family girl, in the years he’d known her now. He understood it when she missed her family so much that it left an ache in your chest. 

“I take it they didn’t like the fact that just because your mom died, it didn’t mean you were going to come back.” She shook her head and a broken noise escaped from her lips. 

“I can never do anything right in their eyes.” She choked out between her sobs and Ashton could feel his anger towards these people that would hurt such a wonderful woman.

She’d put up with so much over the last few years. The rude comments, the over intrusive fans once she was introduced to their friendship group. He knew they took their toll, especially when the paps would get creative about her looks and insult her consistently. But to get into arguments with her family and see her this upset, it made his blood boil and his heart break.

There was a knock on the door and she hid her face in Ashton’s chest, a muffled groan escaping her lips.

“It’s reinforcements. Also known as Calum has come over so you can get all cuddly whilst I make you some food.” His tone was light, teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

She finally let go of him, her body curled in on herself as he could see her fight to keep her eyes open. 

“I’ll tell Cal that it’s nap time.” She snorted at that, a few more tears escaping as Ashton left the room and headed downstairs. 

Opening the door, he was greeted with Calum, his eyes concerned and Ashton gave him a small shake of his head as he stepped back to let his best friend through. 

“She’s upstairs and practically dead on her feet. They really fucked up.” He knew that his voice wouldn’t carry, but he couldn’t bear to let it go any louder in fear of his own emotions slipping for her. 

Calum swallowed thickly before nodding. He kicked off his shoes and ditched his jacket, heading upstairs and he found her, tears falling onto the bed sheets. 

“Got room for me, princess?”

“Always.” Came the muttered response, her body shifting as he slid into the bed and pulled her closer. 

-

Calum had left thirty minutes ago, knowing that his two best friends weren’t going to be going anywhere. 

Ashton had returned and it’d been a cosy afternoon spent with the TV on in the background, dozing off every now and then. A few times there were soft whimpers from Luna, but they subsided quickly enough.

But Ashton hadn’t hesitated pulling her against him when he decided to settle for a nap, her body relaxing into his as Calum turned the TV volume down. Once they had both fallen asleep, he slipped out from the house quietly. 

When Ashton had woken up, Luna had rolled over in her sleep, her face pressed into his chest as she slumbered, his arms pulling her close against him. 

Even with her red eyes and puffy face, she still looked beautiful to him.

“Lunes?” His voice was soft as he tried to coax her into waking up. But she either couldn’t hear him or was ignoring him as he gently tried to wake her up.

“Luna, we need to eat.” This gained him some movement, her face pressing into his chest as she let out a sigh.

“No.” The word was muffled as her hands clasped his shirt tighter in her fists, and Ashton didn’t even attempt to pry them off. 

“Sweet Luna, moon of my life, will you please come and eat with me?” His plea was met with silence before she finally pulled her face away, tired eyes meeting his.

“Just, let me not exist. Just for a little bit. ‘Lemme pretend that it’s good till I have to deal with that shit show.” She whispered and he couldn’t deny her at all.

“I’m here for you, during the eye of the storm and then after. I’ve got you Lunes.” He whispered and she sighed, nestling herself back into his embrace.

“Dunno why I keep letting you slip by when you’re this good to me. I should’ve wifed you up a while ago.” Her words were tired and heavy, but he chuckled regardless.

“Wifed me up huh?” His heart was rapidly beating in his chest and he knew she could hear it. How could she not with her face and ear pressed to his chest?

“Loved on you every day. Y’know. All that jazz.” His chest felt like it was burning now, and he desperately tried to keep his breathing even. But then she tilted her head towards him, her eyes holding so much emotion and he knew he was a goner. 

“Kiss me?” 

And he did, his lips trailing soft kisses along her jaw to the corner of her lips first. And then his lips met hers and he felt her practically melting into the kiss.

It was a few moments of them kissing, his lips practically devouring hers and she reciprocated in kind. But the last thing he wanted was for her to make a decision in the state that she was, so he pulled his lips away, his breathing heavy as they processed what just happened.

“When the storm passes, can we-can we still do that?” Her voice was timid and Ashton felt a grin bloom across his lips.

“Absolutely.” 

-

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[myaekingheart]

The Day Kakashi’s Mask Slipped

Written for Day 2 of the Kakashi Lounge Discord Server’s September Event. Prompts: Disguises | “Well, I/we tried” | Rainy Days

[Read on AO3] Pairing: Gen/None Rating: General Audiences @the-kakashi-lounge-blog

The truth is finally revealed. Team 7 finally sees Kakashi's face. 

               Dark clouds hung heavy over Konoha as passerby rushed into nearby shops to avoid the rain. From inside the dango shop, a small group of friends gathered around a table to sip tea and enjoy one another’s company. It was so rare that they were able to do something like this, the obligations of adulthood keeping them distanced. But in this moment, with the four of them together, none of that mattered anymore. It was like they were naïve little genin all over again laughing and joking without a care in the world.

               Hinata snuggled close to her husband as he joked about his hokage duties, specifically the paperwork. If only he had known there would be so much paperwork. Despite his complaints, however, it was clear that he still genuinely adored his role in the village. After all, it was all he had ever wanted—a fact which Sasuke would not let him forget. Sakura chimed in to remind her friend that if he thought hokage paperwork was bad, he should see all the forms at the hospital. Mental healthcare was no joke and Sakura took great pride in how hard she had worked to create an exceptional treatment center for Konoha. No matter what duties may have pulled them away from each other, however, the one thing that always brought them back was their children. Sarada and Boruto were especially full of great potential and it warmed their hearts to see both of them following in their parent’s footsteps. The four of them had all come so far since those halcyon days, it was hard to believe they had all gotten everything they could’ve ever wanted. The only missing link in this nostalgic little afternoon was their sensei, Kakashi.

               As they mused where he might be, flinging Icha Icha jokes at one another, a familiar face scurried down the street. With his one hand, he shielded a camera from the rain. Naruto’s gaze locked on him, his mind warping back to childhood attempts at uncovering their sensei’s face. With his scruffy brown hair, purple face paint, and long coat, he was unmistakable: Sukea, the freelance reporter. The others followed Naruto’s gaze, cocking their eyebrows in question.

               “You know, after all this time I’ve still never seen that guy show up in the ninja registration” Naruto commented. “Is he even from around here?”

               “Hell if I know” Sakura replied. “Why? Do you think he might be a spy?”

               “Maybe we should tail him” Sasuke suggested. “Figure out where he’s going and what he’s up to.” Naruto didn’t want to admit it, but Sasuke made a valid point. Hinata left some money on the table and together, the four of them ran off to track Sukea down.

               So much about this man was truly a mystery and the longer Naruto thought about it, the stranger things seemed to become. He remembered Sukea mentioning he had been a part of the ANBU. Even if he no longer lived within the village’s jurisdiction, he still should have appeared in archival files at the very least. And yet as far as he knew, there was nothing on this man. Not even a history of his rise through the ranks. Not even a birth certificate.

               The four of them crept through alleyways and leapt across rooftops, taking great care in being as quiet and undetectable as possible. They followed Sukea all the way to an apartment complex in the center of town, someplace cheap and unsuspecting. He slipped inside the lobby and ascended the stairs, glancing behind him as he shook the rain from his hair. There was no way the others could follow him inside. It would be far too obvious. Hinata stood in the walkway, shielding herself from the rain, trying to come up with a plan.

               “What about this tree?” she then asked, pointing to one of the large oaks in the courtyard. “Maybe we can climb it and peek inside.”

               “It’s too dangerous” Sasuke countered. “With a storm like this, we could get struck by lightning. Trees are always the first to get hit by lightning.”

               Sakura narrowed her eyes at her husband, replying, “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

               After a long stretch of silence, Naruto raised his fist triumphantly in the air and exclaimed, “Okay! Up the tree we go!” He helped Hinata up onto the highest branch, then gave Sakura a hand as Sasuke crouched down to provide her a footstool. By the time the four of them had perched themselves comfortably on the branches, Sukea had entered his apartment and began making himself comfortable. As luck would have it, his unit was right in the front with a large window overlooking the village.

               Kicking his shoes off, Sukea approached the large bathroom vanity and idled on his reflection for a moment. It was always so strange seeing himself like this, staring back at a face that was not his own. A sigh broke past his lips as he then reached up toward his eyeball. Sakura cringed.

               What is he doing? Popping out his eye? She thought to herself. He pinched the contact lens between his fingers, dropped it into the little container of solution, then removed the other eye. He blinked once, twice, three times in order for his eyes to readjust. Their usual stormy gray was now black and abyssal. He rubbed away the face paint with a cotton pad, cleared his throat. His voice fell a few octaves. He tore away the stickers on his cheeks, revealing a long, rugged scar cutting right down his left eye. And then he reached up to scratch his head, sighing, before removing what was evidently a wig. Underneath that brown scruff was a mess of silvery, spiked hair. And that was when it hit them: Sukea was nothing but a façade. Standing before them, completely unmasked, was none other than Kakashi Hatake.

               “No way!” Naruto shrieked. All the blood drained from his face, his mouth agape. He slapped Sasuke hard on the chest, who fell backward and stumbled out of the tree. Sakura screeched, both at this suspenseful realization and at her husband’s fall. She was far too stunned, however, to jump into any action.

               “O-Oh my goodness…!” Hinata clapped her hands over her mouth as blood trickled from her nostril. How embarrassing.

               Kakashi froze before slowly turning toward the window. His former students hadn’t exactly taken much care in keeping quiet and now here he was faced with the four of them staring back at him in absolute shock. His face turned bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck and waved at them sheepishly. “You should’ve told me you were stopping by!”

               With bugged-out eyes, Naruto shouted back, “What the hell, Kakashi-sensei! Are you telling me that Sukea was you the entire damn time?!”

               “Why didn’t you say something?” Sakura chimed in. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this for all these years!”

               Sasuke groaned and propped himself up on his elbows in the grass below. “Well, I definitely didn’t see that coming” he muttered. Then, squinting up at the others, he shouted, “Naruto, you idiot! Watch where you hit next time!”

               Naruto looked down at him, shouting, “What are you blaming me for?! I wouldn’t have hit you if Kakashi-sensei hadn’t freaked me out!”

               Through gritted teeth, Sasuke replied, “That’s not a good enough excuse.”

               It was admittedly refreshing to see that after all these years, they really hadn’t changed. Sakura grimaced at what had become of her husband, turning her wrath to Naruto who immediately raised his hands in surrender. He was too late, however. Sakura whacked him so hard, he stumbled out of the tree himself. Hinata called after him, scrambling to his aide, as Sakura descended ready to unleash her vengeance.

               In any normal capacity, Kakashi should have been angry. After all, his students had finally uncovered his best kept secret. There was no telling who else would find out about this now. His true identity was a powerful piece of information and the results of this circulating could be disastrous. However, considering the circumstances, Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh. Down below, Naruto and Sasuke attempted to avoid Sakura’s wrath, using one another as human shields and arguing over who deserved it more. Meanwhile Hinata stood on the sidelines anxious and begging them to stop fighting. Truly, Kakashi expected nothing less.

               Realistically, he doubted anything would come of this anyway. The memory of his true face would vanish quickly from their memory and even if they did try to tell others of what they say, who was to say anyone would believe them? It was inconsequential. Kakashi stifled his laughter as he reached for his mask on the dresser. As he tugged it up over his face, he shrugged and muttered in amused defeat, “Well, I tried.”

[tawaifeddiediaz]

the love definition - Chapter 4

We’re so far in!! Only 2 more chapters left! 

I’m so excited for y’all to read this chapter it’s not even funny. In this chapter, Christopher is 22 years old. Also, the things I’ve mentioned down here are taken from real people’s experiences, from the patients at the hospital I volunteer at, to interviews, to articles and columns. :) I hope y’all enjoy!

[Chapter 4 AO3 Link]

Word Count: 5273 words

Entire chapter below the cut:

Four years found Christopher close to graduating again, only college this time.

He was home for the spring break, having just submitted his senior thesis and mostly spending time with his family. He’d gone out with May, who was now married with a child on the way. He’d seen Harry, a few other friends from school, visited Nia at his Aunts’ house, and met with the rest of the fire family. 

The six hour difference between LA and Stanford University where Denny and Chris shared a small on-campus apartment proved to be an exercise in control for their parents. There had been multiple times where one of the parents was more than ready to drive up to take them home for the weekend. Every weekend.

Denny had drawn the line there with them, stating that they had to let them do this on their own, and that they’d be home for breaks and longer weekends. Chris had merely shrugged in agreement.

They made it work. Having Denny there made it easier with his CP, in case he needed anything, and he got the sense that Dad and Papa were a little more at ease with him there. In turn, Denny had the kinship of home, too. Though Aunt Athena liked to joke that both of them were wreaking havoc on campus, a force to be reckoned with when they put their minds together.

She was probably right.

He’d ultimately decided to major in public policy, wanting to make a difference to people that were stuck in the system the way his dad had been when they’d moved out here. If not for Carla, God knows where they would’ve been. Even though she wasn’t their home healthcare aide anymore, she was still - and always would be - family.

In fact, Carla had formed a large part of Christopher’s decision on his major. He’d tried social work, human relations, political science and even criminal justice before he found his fit with public policy. With that degree, he’d be able to do so much to help other people like him.

Now just a little over a month left in graduating with his Bachelor’s, Christopher couldn’t be happier with the way things worked out. His parents were happy to have him home too, shining a little brighter than he’d seen them over all the video calls.

And now, he was sitting in a coffee shop with his best friend of six years, watching her stir her tea as his mouth flopped open.

This was literally his greatest dream and worst nightmare rolled into one.

“Look, Chris. I really don’t see what the problem is. We’ve known each other for so long, why not try the next step? And it’s not like it’s a baseless thought. We’ve been skirting around each other for years, meri jaan. Now we’re about to graduate and…” Anabiya said, trailing off. 

The blanks could be filled. Graduating meant that they could drift apart. Graduating meant that Anabiya was moving to New York for an internship, and Chris was starting a job in LA. 

Graduating meant that they both could regret not giving each other a chance.

Christopher’s mind stuck on the term of endearment. Meri jaan meant ‘my life’ in Urdu, courtesy of Anabiya’s Pakistani household. Usually, she said it plainly, the way people said ‘dude’ or ‘man’ or ‘bro.’ Today though, there was a softness to the words that rivalled his dad’s mi vida to Buck.

He’d been in love with her for the past three years, and hadn’t dared to say anything. Christopher was terrified of so many things when it came to Anabiya, but he’d always loved her freely. 

He just hadn’t imagined that she’d love him back. That possibility hadn’t even been on the radar; he wasn’t quite sure how they ended up here.

“But...I don’t understand. Why now? Of all times, why’d you bring it up now?” Right at the brink of their lives changing yet again.

Anabiya shrugged, wrapping her fingers around her mug. To anyone else, she’d look calm, composed. But Christopher knew her. He could pick up the tenseness in her shoulders, the pinched nervousness on her face and the slight tremble in her fingers. 

“Because every time I thought you would say something, you’d chicken out. And eventually, I got tired of waiting. Took it in my own hands, as usual.” She looked pointedly at him, making his face burn. 

“It’s not...it’s not that simple. It never really is. There’s just...you really want to be saddled to a guy with cerebral palsy for the rest of your life? Because the second I say yes, Biya, I’m not going to be able to let you go.”

It was as close to an ‘I love you’ as he could say without actually mentioning the words. By the way her eyes softened, she knew it too. 

If he said the words, it would make this all too real.

Her hair fell over her face as she stared down into her mug, before looking up at him steadily. “Your CP has never been something I’ve discriminated against and you know that. If anything, it only makes me admire you that much more. I would call myself lucky to be with you, Chris. It’s not ‘saddling’ or being stuck.” His heart squeezed but he knew that saying it and dealing with it were two very different things. 

He said as much. “You’ve seen how hard it is from the surface, but I don’t think you realize how hard it is. All the physical therapy appointments, the speech therapy, the mood swings, the inability to do so many things. It’s like...well, saddling yourself to an overgrown child. No one wants to be stuck with that for a life partner.”

“Why do you keep talking about yourself like that?” Biya snapped. “You’re literally the most independent person I know, and your CP doesn’t change that. And even if you weren’t, I’d still feel the same way about you. Yeah, things take more work and there are obstacles and we might have to do things differently but in the end, it will never change the way I feel about you.”

“But it changes the way I feel about what I feel for you! I feel selfish for even entertaining the mere idea of subjecting you to this for life. I don’t want that for you. You deserve someone who can give you everything. Someone who’s whole.” He struggled to keep his voice at a normal volume, because they were already catching a few side-eyes.

“You already give me everything, and I’ll be the one to decide what I want. You are whole, Christopher Diaz. You know better than anyone that a disability doesn’t make someone broken, and you wouldn’t talk to anyone else like that, so you shouldn’t be talking about yourself like that either. And I’m not about to sit here and justify why I love you. Neither of us deserve that.” 

Christopher held back a flinch at the three words, the same letters that were tangling themselves in his throat, eager to present themselves to her.

Nevertheless, he pushed it down. 

“Biya, I…I can’t do it.” There was the heavy weight of dread digging into his chest as he watched a myriad of emotions flash across Anabiya’s face, but it was the pure hurt that scoured into him most.

The disappointment was clear on her face as she stood up, shaking her head. “Think about it. You know where to find me if you make a decision,” Anabiya muttered before setting a few bills down. Chris tried to push her off, citing he’d pay for it but with one withering glare, he backed off. 

Before she left, Anabiya left him with one scalding comment. “Don’t do something that will leave us both with a world of regret, Christopher.”

He sat there for a long while, watching her tunic sway around her as she went out to her car. His chest felt tight as she walked away, mind racing around their conversation. He didn't think things would come to a head like this.

Before he knew it, he’d pulled his phone and dialled his dad’s number. 

“Hello?”

“Do you mind coming up to that coffee shop near City Square?” 

There was a beat of silence before Dad replied in the affirmative, saying he’d be there in 10 minutes. Christopher flagged down a waitress and ordered his regular Americano for him.

As the kind woman walked back to the counter, Chris stared at his crutches leaning precariously on the side of the table. He’d gone through an alarming amount of those; right now, they were a glossy black decorated with a Stanford sticker that Anabiya herself had put on the side. 

How could he subject Anabiya to all of that? For life?

He was honest about not being able to let her go. But every time he let himself even entertain the mere idea of them being together in the romantic sense, a swamping wave of self-doubt and selfishness strangled him.

His CP meant that there were a lot of dark days to work through. Some days he’d wake up and his limbs would refuse to cooperate, whereas on other days he wouldn’t have the energy to do anything at all. Those were the days his temper sky-rocketed and he was an all-round terror to be around, if he managed to get out in the first place. 

For all of his usual patience, he wasn’t perfect.

“What’s going on?” His dad slipped into the seat next to him, taking in the empty cup, the wad of money, Christopher’s still-full coffee and the expression on his face. “Are you okay, buddy?” 

Christopher just stared at the worried face that was so like his own. He’d gotten a mix of his mom’s and his dad’s eyes, but the rest of his facial structure was all Dad’s. And Dad liked to joke that his personality and hair came from Buck. 

Buck, on the other hand, thought that his quiet personality came from Dad. Which was true - he was, in Anabiya’s terms, an ambivert; the perfect mix of Mom, Dad and Papa.

“Dad, do you think I should love someone?” The question took his father by surprise, his eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Yeah, you should, and you deserve to.” The answer was immediate, backed with conviction. “What brought this on, kiddo?”

Chris told him about what Anabiya said, in its bare minimum. Dad sat in thought for a while, smiling briefly at the waitress who brought his coffee.

“You’ve loved her for a while, Chris, haven’t you?” 

“Well, yeah but…”

His father cocked his head as Christopher trailed off. “Then that should be the end of it. She loves you, you love her, what else is there to think about? Is something bothering you, bud?”

“She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by my CP.” Dad’s eyes softened and a strange look took up residence on his face. It was the same look Dad always got when Christopher fell back from doing something.

“Is that what this is about? You don’t think you should love her because you have CP?”

Christopher was quick to correct him. “No, it’s that she shouldn’t love me. You and Buck already know how difficult this is, and you’re my dads. I don’t know if I can subject a life partner to all that. I feel so selfish for even thinking about it.”

His dad studied him quietly, with the same look Anabiya said Chris got when he was concentrating. “You know, and I know this isn’t the same, but when I first realized that I liked Buck, I thought the exact same thing.” 

This was a story he hadn’t heard before. He’d just assumed that because they loved each other so much, nothing could keep them apart. His surprise must’ve shown on his face because Dad smiled at him, even as his eyes glazed over, rolling his wedding ring between his fingers.

“See, when I realized just how important your papa was to me, I also recognized that I was an army veteran who suffered from terrible PTSD. On top of that, I was a single father, I was dealing with things with your mom and I was five years older than he was. Add in the fact that I was - and still am - pretty difficult when it comes to emotions, and you’ve got yourself a pretty poor candidate.

“I just kept thinking to myself that Buck could find someone so much better than me, someone younger, less damaged and more fun to be around. Kept thinking that no one wanted all that baggage.” 

“Papa would never say that to you.”

Dad only raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh I know that. The second he saw you on my phone, Buck melted immediately. He stepped right into my life, and didn’t budge, no matter what came at us. But it took a lot of time, Chris. Didn’t happen overnight. Two years of non-stop partnership in and out of the house to the point where I just started accepting that the man wasn’t going anywhere. He was already so integral to our lives. 

“And Buck was struggling with his own baggage too, it wasn’t that he came into this relationship with a clean slate. Those are his stories to tell, but my point is that we all struggle with things. Anabiya must have something that tears at her too, right?” Chris nodded vaguely. “Would you love her any less for it?”

He immediately shook his head; he couldn’t even fathom it. He began to see where Dad was taking this. 

Dad only grinned knowingly as he continued. “There is not a single person who comes into a relationship without a worry in the world. My trauma didn’t mean that I didn’t deserve him, or that he couldn’t love me and vice versa.

“It took us some time to accept that but we love each other enough to make it work. Even after 13 years of being together, and 12 years of being married, Buck and I are still working through those things, but the difference is that we do it together. We choose each other, every single time.” 

“How did you know you loved Buck differently than you loved Mom?” Dad flinched at the reminder, which made Christopher slightly regret the question. “You did. What you and Buck have is something different.”

In all these years, Dad had never shied away from Christopher’s questions about his mother. Papa was often listening and questioning right along too, never put-off by the mention of her. It made Christopher think about how non-traditional his family was, where Buck wasn’t insecure about Mom being mentioned. Together, the three of them kept her alive, part of their family.

But this was something that’d settled in his mind early into Dad and Buck’s relationship - not in a negative way, but enough that he could see the difference.

“I didn’t think you would’ve noticed that,” Dad confessed, fiddling with the rim of the mug. “It took me a long time to come to terms with it. Your mom and I...I loved her, I still love her. But we weren’t in love with each other. Shannon and I ended up getting married on a whim, then got pregnant with you and never really looked back. But we were so young, and in a pretty unstable place.

“I made a lot of mistakes back then. The list is a mile long, and I know you know most of them. Shannon and I built a marriage on rocky ground, but eventually, it crumbled because neither of us was willing to understand each other. We couldn’t make it work, no matter how much we tried. Couldn’t put it back together.

“The difference with Buck is that he’s my best friend before anything else. Before my husband, before the father of my kid, he’s my best friend, my partner. My soulmate - that’s what makes us work.

“I’m not saying you have to marry your best friend or whatever, but...at one point, your partner needs to be someone who understands you, even if it takes a while to get there. Someone who accepts you for all parts of you. And they have to be willing to adapt to inevitable changes even if they don’t always like them. Buck and I aren’t the same people we married 12 years ago; we get to know each other every day, all over again, and that’s part of the fun, too.

“I can’t tell you what to tell Anabiya, and I’m not going to force your hand in anything. Your papa and I will always support any decision you take. But Chris, if you hadn’t given me that push that night, I’d have regretted it for the rest of my life. Maybe it’s time for me to return the favour,” he finished, giving him a knowing look.

Chris thought about Dad and Papa again. It had been a long ride for them; their relationship hadn’t snapped into place overnight. No matter how much they tried to keep it as normal as possible, it had been an adjustment for all of them. 

But they had love between them, which kept them going. 

Biya and him had a full six years between them, and just because their situation was a little different didn’t mean they couldn’t get through it. His CP was a part of his identity, not a flaw or a setback, and Biya had taken it in stride from the very first day.

And he’d just doubted her.

“I’m an idiot,” Christopher declared as the words sunk in. His dad only laughed and drained the rest of his coffee.

“Diaz men suck when it comes to feelings. Thank God you didn’t get that from the rest of us, kid.” 

“I just pissed my best friend off because I wouldn’t talk about what I was feeling. I’d say I suck too,” he quipped as he got to his feet, slipping his arms through his forearm crutches. His dad clicked his tongue in protest.

“Not true, buddy, I think you said some pretty vulnerable things, too. But anyway, as long as you remember it’s you two versus the argument, you’re gonna be just fine. You know how many times Buck and I’ve pissed each other off through the years? And that’s before we even got together.”

Chris rolled his eyes, well-familiar with this particular premise. Yet another love definition.

“Yeah, yeah, you two win at everything,” he grumbled good-naturedly as they walked out, Anabiya’s wad of cash nestled in his pocket. 

His dad laughed at that, ruffling his hair.

“Come on, I’ll drop you off at her house,” Dad gestured to his truck, saving Chris the trouble of having to grab a cab. He didn’t prefer driving, not when his eyes had a tendency to slip closed at random moments - though he could if he needed or wanted to.

“Haven’t you met your advice quota for the day, old man?” he teased as his father pulled out onto the street. Dad laughed and mock-scolded him for the ‘old’ comment.

“Watch it kid, I’m not even fifty yet.”

The rest of the car ride passed in relative silence, Christopher trying to predict how Anabiya would react to him on her doorstep less than an hour after she stormed out of the coffee shop. 

He had no idea what he was going to say to her.

“The truth,” Dad advised. Christopher realized he’d said the last sentence out loud and looked sheepishly at him. “You’ve got this. Go get her.”

“I love you, Dad. Thank you,” Chris hugged him first, holding onto the familiar scent of pine and ash that he forever associated with him. Buck was more sandalwood and cedar, but both were equally comforting.

“Love you too.” Dad ruffled his hair again, smiling encouragingly.

Chris crutched his way to Anabiya’s front door, a ball of nervousness settling in his gut. He made sure his dad’s truck was gone before knocking.

The door swung open to reveal Warda, Anabiya’s older sister. She narrowed his eyes at him as he looked at her apologetically.

“What is it?” Crap. She was pissed.

Though Chris would be too if someone had acted the way he had.

“Hi, Warda. Is Biya here?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think right now is a good time. You really hurt her, Christopher.” The words were sharp, designed to dig into him. He flinched but kept his head up.

“I know. I need to talk to her though. I need to fix this.”

Whatever Warda read on his face must’ve been enough to earn partial forgiveness, because she stepped aside, letting him in.

“It’s about your CP, isn’t it?” she asked softly. A flush of shame travelled up his chest. It was one thing for Anabiya to see through him, another thing entirely for anyone else to. Still, there was no trace of judgment in her voice, which eased Christopher slightly.

“I can’t give her everything she deserves.”

“Maybe she just needs you. You two just fit together. CP doesn’t make you any less worthy of happiness, Christopher.” Warda was kind about it, though there was still some trepidation in her voice for having hurt her younger sister.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to understand that. Thanks,” he mustered, not wanting to hash this out with Anabiya’s sister rather than Biya herself. Then he winced at his offhand tone, trying to soften his voice. “I’m sorry. Can I talk to her?”

Warda studied him for a minute before gesturing upstairs. “She’s in her bedroom.”

Christopher shifted on his heels and slowly made his way up the stairs. He was halfway before Warda called out to him.

“If you hurt her again, I’m not going to hesitate in kicking you out of here.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Chris said quickly, praying under his breath that he could fix this.

It took him a while to climb with his crutches, but he managed it. By the time he’d reached the top, he was winded with the effort and there were tremors in his muscles.

He knocked on the door, barely hearing Biya’s tearful “go away, Aapi!” 

“It’s me,” Chris said, rapping his knuckles lightly over the wood. There was a beat of silence before the door swung open, revealing a blotchy-faced Anabiya. It was clear that she’d tried to hastily wipe her face.

His heart turned over in his chest as another wave of self-loathing gripped him. 

“Sit,” she gestured shortly. Chris lowered himself to her bed, nearly tripping because he was too busy studying her expression to pay attention to his weak muscles. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she was studiously avoiding looking at him.

They sat in an awkward silence that hadn’t plagued them ever in their friendship. It was startling, and for one horrifying second, Christopher wondered if he could fix this at all.

No, that wasn’t even a question. He’d do anything for this.

He dug out the few bills and held them out to her, almost like a peace offering. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, but took them, albeit reluctantly. 

“Biya, I’m sorry,” Christopher started, twisting his fingers together. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, shouldn’t have doubted our relationship.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Biya whispered stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. Chris swallowed around the lump in his throat as his dad’s words came back to him.

“The truth.”

He took a deep breath and started speaking. “When I come back from physical therapy some days, I throw up because the pain causes me so much nausea. And then that makes me cranky, and just horrible company. 

“When I go to places without accessibility for people with disabilities or very limited accessibility, it sends me into a fit of rage because things should be more accessible. When I go to job interviews, or classes, or internships, or anywhere really, I have to deal with all this-this pity that comes my way.

“They see a guy on crutches, with a clear disorder, and suddenly, I’m not a person anymore.” Christopher said quietly, now looking down at his hands. This was where his real insecurity with his cerebral palsy lay - people didn’t tend to look past it.

“Biya, as much as I’ve learned to embrace my disability, there are more times than not where it just frustrates the hell out of me and everyone around me.” She was listening quietly, her gaze on the top of his head burning through him. “There are days where my speech messes up and I start stammering or end up speaking too loud. There are days where my body just doesn’t work the way it should, even with more than 15 years of physical therapy. My CP is usually limited to physical disabilities but sometimes, there are mental and cognitive problems too.

“We’ve been best friends for years. I couldn’t have hid this from you forever, and I know you know some of it because you’ve been with me through it. But it’s different when you’re my life partner. I promise I didn’t mean to push you away, I just don’t see why you’d love a guy like me.”

“Because you don’t see what I see,” Anabiya said earnestly, some of the fire easing from her voice. “All these things that you see as struggles are also proof of your values. Things that make you, you. And I couldn’t love you the same without it. There isn’t anything I’d change about you, ever, and if I’m hurt, it’s because of how quick it was for you to say no, not because I don’t understand where you’re coming from.”

“My dads are constantly having to switch up things as they come to accommodate me, to keep me in the loop. So do my friends, which you know,” he said, now looking right at her. “I can’t promise you a normal life. I can’t promise that people won’t look at you weird and wonder what you’re doing with the handicapped guy.”

“You’re not abnormal, first of all, and the premise of ‘normal’ is subjective anyway,” she corrected quickly. “The world isn’t just about being able-bodied. I...I don’t promise to understand what you go through, because all I can offer you are love and support. But I want to be there, Chris.”

“That’s all I ask. Just...just be patient with me.” He was out of words now, still breathless from those stairs. Or maybe it was from feeling so unnervingly vulnerable and exposed. 

Anabiya finally abandoned her post by the door to come sit by him. Christopher held up one hand to her, looking up hopefully. When she laced her fingers with his, he let out a breath of relief, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Christopher cupped her face with his free hand, running a thumb to clear a smudge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered pleadingly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Biya was still red-faced and flushed from crying, and tears were sparkling in her eyes again but she was the most beautiful thing Chris had ever seen. "Just...don't do that again. I'm there, no matter what."

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips were meeting in an awkward kiss that left both of them bumbling and flustered. It was dry and chaste, but as first kisses go, it wasn’t bad. So he kissed her again, a little more confident this time around, cupping the back of her head. 

"I won't," he whispered when they parted for air.

“So...where do we go from here?” Biya asked.

“We...try to make this work. I told you, I’m not gonna be able to let you go, and if that means we do the long distance thing, then so be it.”

“It also means that we have to learn to communicate better. Especially if we want to do the long distance relationship after only what would be maybe two months of regular dating.” Chris winced at her pointed look but nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what Dad said too.”

“Ah...The Love Definition again?” Anabiya quirked dryly, a grin taking hold on her face. Chris laughed and nodded, turning more towards her.

“Honestly, when you left the cafe, there wasn’t really anyone else on my mind because I knew he would understand. When Dad came back from the army, Mom wasn’t...she wasn’t easy on him.” Anabiya had been around their family long enough for her to know these things. “That’s not to say that Dad was completely blameless or whatever. He just never tells me about anything Mom did wrong, but that doesn't mean I didn't see it.

“Obviously, I was born with the CP, so I had a lifetime to adjust but veterans see things that don’t fit in the average civilian’s view. Even now, there are some habits that don’t leave Dad, nightmares that plague him.

“They were fighting more, actually talking less and no one was willing to give my dad the space to become a civilian again - not even his parents. All everyone saw was either the medal, or the fact that he’d left his wife and son to enlist,” Chris shrugged. “I was just glad that he was home safe.”

He’d heard Dad’s parents yell at him over and over again about taking Chris to LA, about marrying Buck, about a thousand different things in his life. Yet, he was as patient as he could be, trying his hardest to keep their family tied together. To Chris, that was the sign of a growth he learned from his dad.

“Buck doesn’t do that,” Chris told her. “He’s always encouraging Dad to get help, to talk about things, lets him have his space if that’s what he needs. Buck never sees Dad’s trauma as a burden, and vice versa. I knew Dad would understand this, and it was his day off, so I called him.”

“Your dads are some of the best people I’ve ever known, and they have one of the best relationships I’ve ever seen. I’m glad we have that model in front of us,” she said.

That had been the point of The Love Definition - a specific list of lessons and standards about love and relationships, almost like a guide. Now presented with his own challenge, he’d need those lessons more than ever.

“Every couple goes through things, I think. Not a lot of them come back to talk it out. I don't want that to happen to us,” Chris told her. Biya chuckled and stood up, propping her hands on her hips.

“It's not going to,” she pointed at him sternly, a smirk playing at her lips. Some of the lingering tightness vanished at her determination - whatever it was, they'd get through it.

“We’re going to try our best not to,” he corrected, reaching for his crutches. “I’m going to get going because I think Dad’s probably driving himself out of his mind with worry, and probably freaking Papa out, too. But...would you want to...maybe go out Friday night? On a date?”

Anabiya’s expression softened and she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Friday.”

To his relief, the awkwardness had dissipated, leaving nothing but the burning anticipation of what there was to come. 

As Anabiya pulled him in for one last kiss, Chris promised himself that he’d never let her go. 

No matter how difficult things got.

[thedreideldiaries]

Hey, friends! I thought I’d take this opportunity to expound in my political choices a bit - specifically to give some context for my choice of Sanders over Warren. Note for a few of my followers who know me elsewhere: this is copied over from other social media, so if it sounds familiar that is why.

First, I want to reiterate that I like Warren. So, if anyone reading this is torn between her and any of the other clowns who have thrown their sorry hats into the ring, then please: do me and the rest of the world a favor, stop reading this right now, and go ahead and give Warren your vote. I won’t be mad. Promise. If you’re on the fence between Warren and Sanders, though, then I implore you to read on.

Okay, is it just us in here? Cool.

For my friends torn between Warren and Sanders (like I was at the beginning of the primary), I’ve tried to distill my reasoning. As you know, a lot of the discourse surrounding Warren’s campaign constructs her as a younger, female version of Sanders. If I believed that, I’d be solidly in her corner, but a few differences between them make this simply not the case. Here are the ones I find most salient:

1. Let’s look at Bernie’s base. As much as we love to talk about representation in politics, a candidate’s demographic background tells us nothing about who they’re going to fight for. Their voting base, on the other hand, tells you who has placed their confidence in that candidate’s promises.

A good proportion of Warren’s supporters are white college graduates (young and old).

By contrast Bernie’s base is overwhelmingly working class, non-white, urban, and, perhaps most tellingly, young. You could attribute that to naivete, but I think something else is going on here: the demographic group with the most to win or lose from this election are people under 30. We’re the ones who will have to live with the most devastating effects of climate change, and we’re tired of the so-called adults in our lives not taking that rather pressing concern seriously. We don’t care if our candidate is old or young - we care if they listen. Which brings me to:

2. The Youth. Young people in America are disillusioned with democracy - not because we’ve decided it’s not a good idea, but because we’ve literally never seen it in action. We live in a corporate plutocracy where the financial barriers to running for office have rendered most politicians ridiculously out of touch. And Sanders, more than any other candidate in the primary, knows how to talk to young people.

And look - I’m planning to vote for whoever wins the primary. But if 2016 is anything to go by, if the youth demographic doesn’t get a candidate they can get behind, they won’t vote strategically for the lesser of two evils. They’ll stay home, and given what the Democratic party has done for them over the past 20 or so years, I can’t say I blame them.

3. The same goes for his endorsements. I’d be out of my lane if I spent too much time talking about what Sanders wants to do for people of color, but I think it’s telling that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Rashida Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar - three politicians showing real determination to shake things up in Washington - all chose Bernie over Warren. I think it’s telling that AOC cited his campaign, not Warren’s, as her inspiration for running for office (if anyone’s a female Sanders, it’s not Warren - it’s AOC).

4. Sanders is, quite simply, the genuine article. He’s fought for important causes (climate justice, healthcare, workers’ rights) since long before they were cool. He’s *not* perfect, but criticisms of him rarely touch his political history.

Warren’s record of activism is, by contrast, unimpressive. She used to be a Republican corporate lawyer, and while I absolutely respect that someone can change their mind about politics, and I applaud her for doing so, it worries me that what changed her mind wasn’t the Iran-Contra scandal, or the AIDS crisis, or the brutal crushing of the labor movement. It was the realization that Republicans were doing capitalism wrong. I can’t exactly argue with that (show me a Republican politician who truly supports a free market and I’ll eat my beret*), but it doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

*This is a joke. I do not have a beret.

5. Warren’s a capitalist; Sanders is a democratic socialist, and I think the difference is important. Warren supports a wealth tax, and she wants everyone to have healthcare, and I appreciate that she has the guts to talk about those things on national television, but at the end of the day, she’s a proud capitalist who believes the system needs to be corrected, not overhauled.

Sanders is a self-professed democratic socialist, and has built a popular movement around that label. And honestly, I’m not too worried about redbaiting. Yes, it’s a common Republican tactic, but the sentiment of “yes I would vote for Democrats but not for Socialist democrats” is a rare one, if it exists at all. And if it works against any of the primary candidates, it’ll work against all of them. They used anti-Commmunist rhetoric against Obama, for goodness’ sake. Look how much of an advocate for the working class he turned out to be.

Courting the centrist vote is a waste of time. Tiptoeing around conservatives alienates left-wingers and doesn’t actually sway Republicans. It’s a bad move strategically, in that it makes us look like cowards, and morally, because it means not getting very important things done.

Sanders doesn’t want to play the game better. He wants to start a whole new game. Warren’s economics platform seems to boil down to “50s but less racist,” and while that sounds nice, it’s just not possible. We can’t go back there - we have automation now, not to mention a global economy the likes of which we barely dreamed of in the 1950s, and it’s not realistic to try to make that happen again. We need something new.

6. People over party. In a lot of ways, Warren reminds me of the best parts of The West Wing. I like that show, but it was a comforting fantasy - a vision of what the Democratic Party could have been like with a little more gumption and a lot more luck. It never happened because the Democratic party and politics aren’t like that in real life. I have confidence in Sanders because his loyalty isn’t to the Democratic Party. It’s to the American people. He’s proved that over and over again over the course of his political career.

7. Bernie is an organizer. The “not me - us” slogan is very telling. Democracy is participatory. We don’t just need a candidate with a plan to fix everything. We need a candidate with a plan who acknowledges that the people hold the real power. We need a candidate who respects the will of the people and inspires them to get involved. We can’t win this election and stop thinking about politics. We never get to stop thinking about politics. We need someone who can inspire people to keep fighting.

The heart attack was a big deal, but the truth is, it’s never been about Bernie as an individual. His immediate reaction after getting out of the hospital was “I’m lucky to have healthcare; everyone should have healthcare; let’s get back to work.” That, more than anything, has given me the confidence that Bernie wants his policies to last long after he’s gone.

Also, people regularly have heart attacks and live another several decades. This is *literally* why we have vice presidents. If Sanders can get elected and pick a good VP and a cabinet (plus, you know, fill any Supreme Court vacancies that happen to arise over his tenure), his health won’t matter as much, because we don’t need a messiah right now. We need a resurgence of participatory democracy. We need more AOCs to take the stage. We need young people at the polls, not just in 2020, but beyond that.

8. I don’t like to talk about electability for a couple of reasons. One: centrists love to bring it up, usually in the service of talking about how policies they have zero stake in will never work. Two: Trump was supposed to be unelectable, and we all saw how that turned out.

That said: Warren’s currently polling third, which is not a great place to be. And while I don’t share some people’s cynicism about Warren, I have to agree that her response to Trump’s attacks has not impressed me. I’m confident that if Trump attacks Sanders, Bernie won’t take the bait, because he’s so on-message you can’t get him off-message. Like I said: he had a heart attack and immediately spun it back into the healthcare conversation.

And the polls are clear: head to head, Sanders beats Trump. Warren’s chances are far dicier.

9. And the most important issue, without which nothing else really matters: the climate crisis. I’d love it if we could wait for the country’s ideas to catch up to Sanders’ socialist rhetoric, but the truth is we are running out of time. I’m voting for Sanders because I have two nieces under 5 years old and a nephew who was just born, and I want them to grow up on a habitable planet, and they won’t get a chance to vote on that. I’m doing it because I want to have kids of my own someday, and while I absolutely respect the choice of anyone deciding to reproduce right now, I don’t have the emotional energy to raise a family during an apocalypse. And while I like Warren, and she’s expressed support for a Green New Deal, Sanders is the only candidate I trust to both beat Trump in the general and put his foot down to the DNC and their ilk.

10. Foreign policy!

First of all: guess who else hates American Imperialism? That’s right; it’s Bernie Sanders. Significantly, he has the guts to bring up America’s habit of meddling in Latin America’s democratically elected governments, which is something you pretty much never hear about from pretty much any other candidate.

https://www.vox.com/2019/6/25/18744458/bernie-sanders-endless-wars-foreign-affairs-op-ed

Foreign policy came up a lot during 2016 primary, with Clinton’s supporters trotting out the bizarre argument that a long history of hawkish policies is better than no policies at all. What with all that, I was surprised to learn that Sanders is actually quite well-traveled and has a long history of trying to mend fences between the U.S. and other world powers: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/02/bernie-sanders-foreign-policy/470019/

When it comes to climate change and foreign policy, Sanders acknowledges not only that it requires innovation (let’s not forget his early and vehement support for the Green New Deal), but also international cooperation. From the link below:

“To both Sanders and his supporters around the world, it is impossible to fight climate change without international cooperation. To that end, a group called the Progressive International was announced at a convention last year held by the Sanders Institute, a think tank founded by the presidential contender’s wife and son.

“The network of left-wing politicians and activists hopes to fight against "the global war being waged against workers, against our environment, against democracy, against decency,” according to its website.”

He’s also popular with left-wing leaders around the world, and it’s those kinds of politicians who we need to get us out of the climate crisis.

https://www.politico.com/story/2019/04/04/bernie-sanders-global-popularity-1254929

And finally, to stray briefly into comparison: again, I like Warren, but even so, I like her better domestically than internationally. The progressivism she touts at home comes up short abroad. I’m sure you’ve heard about it already, but I think it’s worth remembering that Warren voted for Trump’s military budget in 2017; Sanders didn’t. She talks a lot about peace, but her history on foreign issues looks pretty similar to that of other centrist democrats. This is a problem not only in terms of American Imperialism, but also because the U.S. military is one of the world’s leading causes of climate change. Her voting history and her cozy relationship with defense contractors have me pretty worried. This article goes into more detail about her history with various foreign powers as well as her general attitudes on American imperialism:

https://jacobinmag.com/2019/05/elizabeth-warren-foreign-policy

We all pretty much knew what we were getting with Clinton. Warren worries me not only because she seems to align with the rest of the party on our endless foreign wars, but because she keeps her support for the military-industrial complex behind a facade of progressive rhetoric that reminds me of the early Obama years. We can’t be let down like that again. Even if we ignore the devastating human cost, the planet doesn’t have time.

Further Reading - obviously I don’t agree with everything in every one of these pieces, but they offer a leftist critique that often goes missing from other, more superficial problems people bring up about Warren.

The polling bases of the primary candidates: https://www.people-press.org/2019/08/16/most-democrats-are-excited-by-several-2020-candidates-not-just-their-top-choice/pp_2019-08-16_2020-democratic-candidates_0-06/?fbclid=IwAR2G8np2q9N4P6DArdI-gPhA5Wp_SYDZPKQDpDhxVZ4YbwnAEmFd65swMOA

An interesting take on Warren’s policies vs Bernie’s movement: https://jacobinmag.com/2019/04/elizabeth-warren-policy-bernie-sanders-presidential-primary?fbclid=IwAR14wWjYDNuNMrXN7YjVFFFHXmoMWKpDVqBcbPBlQUUrA354iIyRAbKXG30

An opinion piece on the contrast between them:

https://www.jacobinmag.com/2019/08/bernie-sanders-elizabeth-warren-democratic-party-elite-2020-presidential-race?fbclid=IwAR3vA54QveM2cCTxQ2BbVXh_IICgTxweKVBLMRjhSFyyAdspnibJ50seDjY

Another one:

https://forward.com/opinion/432561/the-case-for-bernie-sanders-the-only-real-progressive-in-the-race-sorry/?fbclid=IwAR1vwONZ7azJQcoeo_KYNYiJ8ekzHhJsZ4Ms0UzDHI59j7Q6oio-5uJOGcI

Warren’s political history:

More about that from a different source:

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2019/10/why-criticize-warren?fbclid=IwAR0NTP0cRbSnr-a6HCuxE-4SCJZEqU2EAL1Gnx70FME-9UMBg-xYE5t7g7Y

A prequel to the former (beware - this one’s scathing as heck):

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2019/09/the-prospect-of-an-elizabeth-warren-nomination-should-be-very-worrying?fbclid=IwAR03d5I5j72s4kQC9wgRSrXnbmWsp_9HUvRWBZwzcfsT9RsZP-lSAX4aPz0

[danahmbisyosangdoktora]

I was a COVID19 Warrior

Dear future self,,,

That’s probably one of the Tumblr mainstream from years ago that I lowkey regret not doing.

Five years from now, I hope you finally achieve what you’re dreaming of.

I remember reading posts from other people with such hopeful words from their then present selves for their future selves.

Do you enjoy what you have now? Imagine, you were just dreaming of it years ago and now you’re here.

I probably might have written something that goes along those lines.

Must have been nice to read a letter from your younger self. I wonder what would I have written if I jumped into the mainstream? With my obnoxious big words to assert my then “lexical prowess”, I’m hundred percent sure I’m having a cringe fest right now.

On the contrary, it feels scary to be hit with the reality of how much your hopes for the future differ from the future. But I also wonder how it must have been to be able to differentiate your past, present and future point-of-views.

I never thought I’d regret something so trivial.

And because of that, I’m here writing for my future self.

DEAR FUTURE SELF,

I’m not sure what year you’ll be reading this but I hope that five years from now, you are different from what you are at present. I hope you’re finally able to find your purpose in life. I hope you’re able to get past all your inhibitions from doing better.

I hope five years is enough for you to find out what you truly wanted in life. And I hope life and time allowed you to do it.

Most importantly, I hope you finally realize that your existence matters. You were born with a purpose. You are not just a speck of dust.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what I meant by writing this letter. Was it because I wanted to validate your existence or I just wanted to rant about all the shit that’s happening around me and make this letter a proof that I was able to get through all of these if I get the chance to read this years from now? Probably the latter.

Nonetheless, everything we do and everything we own will eventually become artifacts in the future. This could also be one of the things the future could retrieve. I'm writing without a specific point. I'm sure this would sound like a diary entry. A Diary of A Young Healthcare Worker, am I getting copyrighted for that title?

///

You see, if I’ve written something like this five years ago when I was still a hopeful undergraduate dreaming of becoming a medical technologist... I would never imagine my current situation. Being in a pandemic as a fresh and young professional; idk, it feels unfair to me.

Did I really burn the midnight oil to become a sacrificial lamb?

Did I have to go through countless breakdown alone just to helplessly beat an invisible bug without any armor?

Did my parents really spent hundreds of thousands for my education just to become a slave of the health sector?

Was being called a modern day hero after dying because of a poor healthcare system worth it?

Was my life being at stake on a daily worth the struggle?

It took me long to finally own up being a “frontliner”. During the early part of the pandemic, I was never truly able to accept the title. It felt like an insult to those who are really in the front line if I call myself that. I used to joke I was just a “loob-liner” because I was just inside the Blood Bank. Not really a part of a Swab Team nor any COVID19 Response Team unlike some of my batchmates. I was scared. I never had the guts to volunteer. I’m not a frontliner.

I always felt the need to ask validation from my friends. I always ask if it’s okay that I don’t feel like fighting for the country. I always ask if they still accept me even if I turn against my oath.

You see, I feel like working in a government hospital in the province isn’t an ideal start for a budding professional. I was exposed to the crooked healthcare system of the country at an early time. My ideals became just ideals. Everything I expected turned into just expectations. Everything I learned in the four corners of the classroom turned into just theories. Maybe my workmates were right, I should’ve went to work in diagnostic clinics first before working in a hospital.

I was exploited as a starting professional. My four years in Medical Technology school didn’t prepare me for this.

Putting my cowardice aside, I feel like my current situation is the reason why I’m so afraid of fighting for the country. My hopeful undergrad self would have rolled her eyes on me if she’d see me right now. But then again, fighting for the country when the country doesn’t care for you is easier said than done.

I’m currently a job order employee. No hazard pay until the pandemic. No night differential even though we are full on 16 to 24 hours duties. My employer doesn’t pay for my PhilHealth nor SSS. We even have to beg for our employer to give us personal protective equipments. Our salary doesn’t have a fixed date of release. We should be thankful should it be released a week after the month of service. It’s normally delayed as long as three months before the pandemic happened.

I was never bothered by the virus because "I only work in the blood bank" no biggie... not until the hospital I work at became the ground zero in my province. No one told us. We only knew someone who should be classified as “probable” first was admitted in our hospital through social media and it was when the patient was already classified as “confirmed”. The local government likes to conceal confirmed cases. I don’t know what good will it bring to everyone though.

I originally never wanted to practice this profession, self. You know because of my internship trauma as well as my infamous phobia with needles. Just as when I was able to overcome it, this pandemic happened. I have never been so scared to go to work. It doesn’t really show on the outside but I’m really scared. Scared that everything that my parents worked so hard for would be put to waste once I contract the virus at work. Not just that, I might bring it with me at home... putting other people at stake.

It scary how there’s no assurance for my future at the moment. I was just starting!!! I was only working for a year! I was only eight months through with my St. Peter plan. I have yet to get life insurance plans for myself and my family.

I am now questioning myself for choosing my convenience over a better employer. Should I have endured being away from my family for a better employment? Had I known a pandemic would be a battle of who's the better employer, I would’ve set aside my internship trauma for a better employer. The thought makes me sick though.

It’s scary how I am almost nonchalant about dying. I have reached this point that I don’t bother thinking about my future anymore. This is actually the first time I thought of the future in weeks. It’s scary how I always agonize about how we would die because we will one way or another. It’s only a matter of time until the system kills us before the virus can.

I’m frustrated because I only go to work for the sake of salary. But I also swear, I do things with integrity. That's the least I can do. Due to the community quarantine, we are quite financially struggling. My mother being a government employee and my father, an overseas filipino worker plus me being a “government worker” as well automatically voided us of any financial help from the government. It’s fine for me because there are people who need it more than us but my blood boils whenever I see news of those being robbed of this help because of local officials’ greed. Do we deserve this?

Pro Deo et Patria.

For God and Country.

I used to use this as my email signature as well as work mantra.

Is it still worth it?

I don’t know who’s the real enemy anymore. The pandemic has exposed how broken our system and government is that we, the minority in government service has been seeing on a daily even before the pandemic made the exposé.

Are we going to get through this?

Am I still going to read this letter few years from now?

I’m tired.

Everyone’s tired.

The world is so crazy right now.

Fighting for life, I was a COVID19 Warrior.

Five years from now,

Was everything worth it, future self? Did I make it?

Did we make it?

[all-hail-the-witcher]

I have literally no clue how to do this, but director’s commentary on your ‘One expensive can of easy cheese’ fic?

hell yeah!!

all comments will be in bold

______

Race was sat on top of the counter in his and Albert’s apartment, race only knows how to sit on counters lets be real, he can't sit in a chair to save his life a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his hands tied together with kitchen twine KINKYY. He sighed against his restraints, resigned to watch his boyfriend make their contribution to this year’s Thanksgiving gathering: mac and cheese. okay so its mac and cheese cause if you read spies mac and cheese is Literally the Only thing albert knows how to cook, other than coffee, and he's Really Fuckin Good At It (he's the mikey of mac and cheese okay this is my hc)

Now, of course everyone and their mother knew that mac and cheese was not a Traditional Thanksgiving Food is it though, r a c e r?. But, Albert had won (best out of three) mario kart yesterday so he had gotten to decide what they would bring to Jack’s house i was gonna make it rock paper scissors, i do not know hot to play mariokart, but it sounds more heated than rock paper scissors. Had Race known that he had been planning to make mac and fucking cheese, maybe he would have tried a little harder race be quiet you literally love alberts mac and cheese its a known fact.

Apparently, Albert was not pleased with Race’s reaction to his decision to make mac and cheese, and thought that Race might try to get in the way somehow (which he may or may not have fully intended to do) he did. So he did what any loving boyfriend would: sat him on the counter, put duct tape over his mouth and tied his hands together so he wouldn’t interfere albert sounds real kinky in this, why did i make this so kinky, wait when did i even write this.

Race was beginning to wonder why he had agreed to move in with Albert in the first place. CAUSE YOU LOVE HIM THATS WHY

With a violent shake of his head and one final spat who the fuck uses the word spat huh saph??, he was able to dislodge the duct tape d i s l o d g e thats some karen bs right there.

“Albieeeeee,” he whined, laying down on the counter. “Can you pleaaaaaaaseee let me helllllllllp?” yeah albert let him help jeez he's the one who actually knows how to cook

Albert barely glanced up as he pulled the big wooden spoon out of the pot and gave it a thoughtful lick note to self, all licks should always be thoughtful. “Hmmmmmmm. No.” dumbass. if only you knew what was coming.

“But-!” He wriggled w r i g g l e d around to give Albert his best puppy dog eyes. “Can I make something else then? Ple-OW!” He glared at the spatula that had been hurled at his arm. “You apologize for that!” damn albie why so mean? o wait i wrote this wait...

“Nah.” He smirked and went back to stirring his wretched pasta okay but i did a good job making race salty i gotta give myself that. Well, actually Albert’s mac and cheese was quite good hELL YEAH IT IS. Race was just salty that he was making it for Thanksgiving when it was very well known that he was the chef of the two and Jack was expecting something good not the mac and cheese Albert famously made at 2am in college when they were all high as hell. okay real talk tho, no one eats good mac and cheese in college, its the instant microwave shit cause were all broke so thats a lie race

“Can you at least untie me then?” ;)

“No.” Albert even bother considering this time. albert this is gettin Real Kinky..

“Well.” If logic wasn't going to work on Albert he would have to try another method. “I know you know how to make a guy feel good Albie HAH YES I KNEW I PULLED SOMETHING WEIRD, but I never expected ropes to be a part of it. What’s next? Handcuffs? Whips? Chains?” i gotta tell ya life without ya has been hard. hard? has been bad. bad? has been r o u g h. k i N kY

In two seconds flat Race was out of his kitchen twine bonds and flexing his sore wrists. LIKE HECK HE WAS CAUSE ALBERTS ACE AND HE DONT WANT THAT REPUTATION!!!

“Man Albie, who knew you had a twine kink.” hehe u go race

“You know,” Albert began loudly, as if thinking that his loudness would cover up his totally obvious twine kink yeah albie has a twine kink, he licks it, no this is a joke, “if you want to do something that's actually useful, you could go to Walgreens and buy me another can of Easy Cheese.” W A L G R E E NS. this whole fit was an excuse to write another part of the walgreens au

“Is that what you put in your fuckin mac and cheese?” Race swore he actually felt bile rise in the back of his throat when Albert nodded. “That’s it. I’m never eating your mac and cheese again.” BUT YOU LIKE IT

“But-!”

“I’ll eat you though,” Race winked, taking a moment to enjoy the startled, yet somehow pleased look on his boyfriend’s face. okay maybe albert wasn't ace in this particular fic...

“Not until after we’re done at Jack’s.” yeah definitely not scratch that. i write a lot of fics. Albert said only half jokingly as he dug around in his pocket for a second before throwing a crumpled five at Race. “In the meantime though, be gone thot!” GO AWAYYYY. IM A MAN OF GOD. mikey and my sister have subjected me to too many tik toks im sorry

Race barely managed to catch the bill without falling on the floor, but still blew a kiss to Albert before walking out of the apartment.

Who the fuck puts easy cheese in mac and cheese? albert does. but its actually a plot point just to get you to walgreens and if anyone puts easy cheese in mac and cheese i will fite you. He wondered for the millionth time as he stomped the three blocks to Walgreens. Albert claimed that he had chosen his apartment for its proximity to the store he did, actually, but up until today Race had always assumed that he had been joking he was not. The man did make a lot of mac and cheese and if Easy Cheese was an ingredient well….maybe there was some truth to that story after all. you can buy easy cheese at a lot of places tho...i don't actually know if you can buy easy cheese at a walgreens

Race pulled open the door to the Walgreens, pausing briefly to wonder why the absolute fuck it was open on literal Thanksgiving before remembering that it was a fucking Walgreens and why wouldn’t it be open to sell his dumbass boyfriend a can of fucking Easy Cheese. walgreens remains a mystery indeed. my only experience was the one that my best friend and i would go to at lunch during senior year. also have you ever noticed that most walgreenses are on corners? cause their slogan is at the corner of happy and healthy??

In order to get to the Easy Cheese, or at least he assumed so because he had never bought a can of Easy Cheese in his whole glorious 25 years of life a true chef, Race had to walk past the Pharmacy section of the store. And, it just so happened that there was a guy sitting behind the counter at the Pharmacy. A very attractive guy. With a beard. In scrubs. oh my god the most questionable villain I've ever written.

Now, of course Race loved Albert and nothing would ever change that, but he could appreciate an attractive man when he saw one indeed he could. He thanked whatever deity was out there for the bit of man candy M AN C AN D Y that he had been granted and went in search of his Easy Cheese. oh just you wait racetrack 

“Mac and cheese, velveta cheese, microwaveable mac and cheese, where the fuck is the- oh thank fuck there we go.” my best friend and i spent much time looking at the mac and cheese in walgreens He pulled a can of Easy Cheese off of the shelf, tossing it once and catching it athletics before turning to go pay for the horrendous product, happy to finally be done with the whole ordeal when- B R E T T 

“Easy cheese? Really?”

Race whirled whirled? saph please get a better vocabulary around to see Mr. Man Candy hA himself leaning against the opposite shelf. “Wh- who?”

“Oh,” he dusted his hand off on his scrubbs oh my god Wait i wrote this cause one time when i was in a walgreens i Did see a hot dude working the pharmacy and decided to write a fic about it!! i remember texting mikey about this hjfhgjhg, “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brett O’Hare. and mikey came up with that name And you, sir, are a disgrace to society. The very reason why so many Americans are in poor health in this day and age.” brett is an obnoxious millennial in case you can't tell

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The Easy Cheese!” Brett gestured wildly toward the can in Race’s hand. “Gosh do you even know how many preservatives are in that stuff? And all the cancers that it can cause? It’s terrible. We wouldn’t need free healthcare if people just stopped eating Easy Cheese!” apparently he's a millennial who's also a republican...?

Race had lived in New York City his whole life, and he had seen some pretty strange things subway pizza rat, but never had he seen a pharmacist in a Walgreens lecture anyone about the health benefits of Easy Cheese. easy cheese has no health benefits. and if you'd stopped annoying your boyfriend maybe you wouldn't be there

“So let me get this straight,” Race rubbed his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “You go around yelling at people about the ingredients in the things that they are purchasing?” yeah its nyc people love to have Opinions. and so do millennials

“Yeah.”

“You do realize that this is a Walgreens, right? Everything in here probably contains some kind of chemical.” man brett has his work cut out for him. New Yorkers never ceased to amaze him.

“All the more reason for me to inform them of their poor eating habits!” Brett pointed a finger at him. “And stop distracting me! You’re the one buying the freaking easy cheese here!” this is so weird why did i come up with this idea. what possessed me. 

“It’s not even for me!” Race shouted back. “It’s for my boyfriend’s fucking mac and cheese that he insisted on making for Thanksgiving even though everyone knows that mac and cheese is not a fucking Thanksgiving food and he’s only making it cause he knocked me off the goddamn rainbow road right before the fucking finish line!” someones salty Race was fuming but the time that he was done.

“Oh, man I’m so sorry, that's lousy.” but it won't stop brett...

Race looked surprised. Of all the things that he thought he would get out of this Walgreens experience, a therapy session was indeed not on the list. But neither had been hearing a lecture about the preservatives in Easy Cheese from a pharmacist. i have literally no explanation for this train wreck of a fic

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still buying Easy Cheese!” Between one second and the next, Brett had grabbed the can of Easy Cheese out of Race’s hand, wielding it like a brick ha percy jackson heroes of olympus anyone??. “Buy some fucking vegetables!” you can't buy vegetables in a walgreens brett

And with that, he struck Race over the head with the can of Easy Cheese.

Now, Race had definitely done some questionable things during his life Thats for sure. Once he had slept on the roof of his dorm building in January for a week because he lost his dorm key god why you can't even get on the roof of dorm buildings i know, I've tried, and another time he had been tricked into making an entire wedding cake using salt by Who??. However, being smacked over the head with a can of Easy Cheese by a health nut in scrubs on Thanksgiving put any and all other situations he had been in to shame in a walgreens don't forget. how did you forget that saph.  

He opened his eyes, suddenly blinded by the lights, and reached for his phone, muttering curses about man candy and vegetables as he should be. Squinting so he didn’t have to look at the screen, he somehow managed to dial Albert. no one d i a l s anyone saph. its the 21st century. i have like maybe 8 phone numbers memorized, half of them belong to my family the other half to people i knew in middle school.

“Racetrack Higgins, where is my Easy Cheese?”

Race pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. “Um, it may have been used to give me a concussion by a health nut in scrubs?” for Once al isn't the one who gets injured in a walgreens. bet you didnt see That coming

Albert let out a loud sigh. “Ah man, did you run into Brett? That guy’s the worst.” hehe bet al used to date him

“Wait, you know him?”

“Race, I know every Walgreens employee in Manhattan, of course I know Brett.” There was the jangling of keys in the background. “I thought I told you to go to the one on 4th for this reason, ah, well. I’m on my way. I’ll take you to urgent care. Hang tight.” ofc al goes to urgent care. and everyone there knows him by a first name basis

Race’s head hurt too much to process what Albert had said except for the words ‘I’m on my way.’ “Okay,” he sighed. this was definitely one of the times i asked mikey about oddly specific concussion symptoms and then proceeded to forget everything he told me and do my own stuff

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Race’s eyes focused on the dented can of Easy Cheese rolling on the floor he should still buy it. “And Al?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to be one expensive can of Easy Cheese.” get it? cause race has to pay urgent care for his consultation? and they're also Very Very late to thanksgiving. cause al insists on finishing his mac. jack is not impressed. he eats all races pie.

anyway thats that hope you enjoyed

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter Two

A/N: So I was so excited about the reaction and feedback I got on the first chapter, I hope you guys enjoy this one too!

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: None really- brief mentions of smut and of course cursing like a mf

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story  

Chapter 2/6: And a Cherry On Top

Once you decide that you want this baby- that you’re keeping, things become alot clearer in your mind.

All those lists you made? The bullet pointed steps, numbered processes that you need to accomplish zero in, your brain finally able to sort them, at least a little bit. More then you’d been able to last night, or even this morning.

You’re keeping this baby, it’s cemented in your stubborn brain now and even though that brings a whole new round of terror, it becomes a front and center though. A focal point, so to say.

And when you’re focused- you’ve been told you can be a little ruthless.

“Look, Dr. Cho, I like you so far, I really do,  but I’m going to be blunt here: I’ve read some horror stories about plus size pregnancies, and how miserable it is to have a doctor who is fatphobic- so I just want to check base and make sure that you’re...okay with having me as a patient, and will treat me with the same respect that I plan to treat you with” 

She doesn't look shocked and you don't know whether that's just her training or if her face always has that sage quality to it, but you can't really read it.

“I really admire you bringing up your concerns, and I can assure you that they’re very presidented, but that’s not something you’re going to have to worry about with me if you choose to continue on with me as your practitioner for this pregnancy.

I’ve been an OB for the last fifteen years and have worked with lots of very different women: big and small and everything in between and that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that we find a plan that works for you and your little one and keeps you both healthy as we get you to term. Does that sound okay to you?”

You chuckle, delightedly shocked at her words. At how straight forward and sincere she had been. At the support you could feel from her and how relieving that felt to know that your doctor was going to be on your side, for you, with you.

Being overweight, you’d had prejudice thrown at you left and right thought your life, sadly also by medical professionals, and to know she wasn't going to do that to you?

“Yeah” You nod, with a grateful smile “That sounds more than okay”

The appointment goes smoothly for the next hour and a half or so after that. You’re happy you’d Googled like crazy and had come prepared with a small list of key medical facts: any allergies, past surgeries talks of mental health and medications. She gives you a pelvic exam/Pap  and its uncomfortable as they always are, even with her gentle, nimble fingers. Legs in stirrups, biting at the inside of your cheek.

The magic happens when she lays you down and slathers your tummy with a jelly like substance and your heart goes fluttery against your chest as she uses a little wand, probes and moves it gently against the jelly. Looking, searching…

Thump,

Thump,

Thump,

Found.

On the screen of the ultrasound machine that she’d pulled up. Dr. Cho had warned you that it was very early, and that there was a good chance that she wouldn't be able to find much of anything at this point and yet there it was.

A tiny little blur in the blob like painting of your insides that we’re up for display on the US machine. A heart beat, the sound it made would be imprinted in your mind forever.

“There’s your baby, it’s about the size of a cherry right now and I has no really defined shape, but as you can hear, it has a very strong heart beat”

Like in movies, you thought you’d cry, and yeah, maybe your close, but really it lights a fire in you. Sets your heart ablaze and makes you feel lightheaded.

There’s your baby, and it’s real. So real. With a little heart inside you, beating along with your own…

You leave the office with two copies of the ultrasound pictures, one for you to keep, and one to give to Bucky.

Now you only had to tell him.

Later that night, as you and Wanda lounge on your living room couch, you text him, clutching a furry pillow in your lap.

You need to get this done and over with, you have to tell him.

Hey, long time no talk. You think we could get together for lunch sometime this week?

----------

Bucky finds himself sitting at a corner table, it’s half past three and you’re still not there yet. You we’re supposed to be meeting him for a late lunch...ten minutes ago? Fuck, why were you always late?

It drove him crazy, was on that long list of things about you that made his eyes cross with annoyance. On that list was also the fact that he could never guess what you we’re going to do- which yeah, that one still stood, too.

When you’d texted him, asking him to meet you for lunch last Friday, Bucky had gaped at his phone for a few minutes. Hadn't you spent the last couple months avoiding him like the plague? He couldn't help himself, though, and had only given you a tiny bit of shit before agreeing to meet you that next Wednesday at you guys’ favorite spot.

And so here he sat, at HandCraft, waiting for you. Trying not too feel excited, hopeful. That usual feeling that settled in his gut whenever you we’re around(even with just the promise of your presence) had been thrown into effect.

He orders himself a Corona, extra lime, but considers something stronger to quell the weird nerves, and orders you a Long Island Peach Tea. 

He knew your obsession with everything peach, so when he saw it he couldn't help but order it for you.

He’s a couple drinks into his beer when you walk in. Bucky could zero in on you in a crowd of hundreds, a skill he’d developed pretty quick after meeting you. His weird 20/20 Y/N radar doesn't fail him and his eyes snap to you as you walk in, and he waves you over. You boop through the crowd, and Bucky knows he has a stupid little smile on his face as he watches.

You’re cute, always. It’s infuriating, and intoxicating and damn, will he ever get over this shit? It’s been eight years for fucks sake.  

It’d been rainy and humid in the city this May, and the beige long sleeved, off the shoulder top and high waisted ripped jeans you wear are breezy enough. You always dressed nice, most always put together and he’d always taken the time to appreciate your style, the way you hed yourself and adorned your curvy body.

The big bun that sits atop your head is messy and has started to frizz from the time you’d spent in the sprinkling rain, your loose baby hairs wispy and starting to curl as you sit down in the chair on the opposite him.

“Hi” You greet, shifting in the chair. You’re awkward around him now, and it sucks. It really does.

He thinks about that night in early March, and he cant bring himself to regret it, and he tries to ignore the twinge from how apparently you seem to.

“Hey there- I ordered some drinks so I didn’t die or dehydration while I was waiting for you”

You can’t help but giggle- you and Bucky’s dry humors had always lined up. It was a part of the reason why the two of you had always got on so well, the two of you were always throwing off hand, rude to anyone else, jokes at each other.

“It’s three, you’re going to need to check that alcoholism or yours someday” you rebuff and he shrugs, taking another swig if his beer with a cheeky smile-

“It’s five o’clock somewhere...and it’s actually 3:30, which makes you- he checks his watch playfully, asshole, fifteen minutes late”

“I had a meeting with my boss. Give me a fucking break” You snipe back, and yeah maybe you sound a little sharp.

Shit. No, that’s not how you wanted the atmosphere of this conversation to go. But this week had been...a lot.

You’d told your little sister MJ about the big B news and she had advised you to talk to your boss about bumping up your healthcare, about maternity leave and all that other jazz as early as possible- and that had lead to you having to sit for over an hour with the one-eyed owner of the radio station.

Nick Fury was cool enough, really he is, but still. Explaining an unexpected pregnancy to him was...really awkward. Especially when he had asked about the father and you had to pretty much shrug and say “Bitch, I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out later today”

But you definitely didn’t call your boss a bitch.

“A meeting? Is everything okay?” Bucky actually sounds concerned and you purse your lips and spin the straw in the dark drink you hadn’t touched yet because you were preeeeetty sure it had liquor in it and that was a no go for you now.

“Um, yeah...it is now. I just had some serious stuff to talk to him about”

“Serious? That doesn’t sound great” Bucky didn’t mean to pry, but he knows how much you loved your job. How hard you’d worked for it.

He’s always rooted for you, knowing that like many things, the radio waves were dominated by male hosts. He listened to your podcasts, and your new show, religiously.

Every Wednesday night at 7- he diligently listens to your melodic voice, actually for the last couple months it’s the only way he could feel close to you.

Sucker. He knows.

“Um, yeah. Kinda serious? More just things I needed to get sorted out with Fury. A little planning for my future, ya know?” Our future, the life inside me, you don’t say. Yet.

“Okay, well as long as everything’s still going smoothly there, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, right. Everything’s going smoothly…” fuck.

“Just say it and get it over with. Like pulling off a band-aid” Wanda had pep talked you about this- but god, how could anybody know it was going to be this hard.

Your heartbeat had gone hummingbird and your stomach was in knots as the minutes ticked on. You order an ice water and watermelon salad and Bucky frowns.

Because that’s not your usual...you always get the Nacho Tots. He offers them as an appetizer for the two of you to share and you shake your head with a forced smile, complaining of a stomach ache.

You don’t touch the peach tea, he points that it too and you shake your head telling him you weren’t in the mood to drink which, what? You were always down to day drink. Always.  

Half way through his chimichurri steak, Bucky can’t take the weird tension anymore. You’re trying...to hard. And yet he can clearly see that you’re more uncomfortable, more uneasy then he’s ever seen you.

He can only bite his tongue for so long. Months of tension were bound to come to a head eventually.

He couldn’t bare talking about the weather and other trivial bullshit subjects anymore.

“Y/N...if you didn’t want to hang out, why did you make plans with me?” Bucky questions, bluntly. Takes you off guard a bit.

“What?” Is your bright reply and he just frowns and leans back in his chair. His body language is all wrong- and it makes you even more anxious then you already were.

“I just- fuck. Fuck, it’s been so weird between us since March and I thought having lunch today was supposed to be us remedying said weirdness but it just feels worse” Bucky’s tone is slightly frustrated and dejected

You can feel your face drop. None of this was going how you’d planned- and you’d imagined this going 1,000 different ways in the last few days.

“I just want everything to go back to the way it was” Bucky speaks, interrupting your silence and it feels like there’s fucking needles in your stomach.

“It can’t go back” You utter, fidget in place, staring at the busy street outside the window for a moment. Not able to meet his eyes yet.

“Really? Cause I kinda think that’s bullshit. So we slept together? It was consensual and we’re adults, I don’t get why it has to be a friendship ending thing-“ Bucky’s feelings are hurt, and it’s apparent in his tone. Confused, slightly pleading.

Band-aid, Wanda’s words ring in your head as you muster up your courage and look back at Bucky.

Jesus, you could drown in his foggy eyes. Could be melted down to nothing by the molten silver of his gaze.

“I have something to tell you, it’s why I asked you to lunch today. I wanted to talk to you face to face because...this is pretty fucking huge and I- I” you stutter and stumble over your words and Bucky knows it’s something major because words are usually your weapon. You vernacular your sword and armor.

He doesn’t know why he knows, or why it clicked together in his head- call it some kind of weird intuition. Maybe from the fact that he grew up with all sisters and that he remembers his older sister Charlie and her face when she’d told his parents, at the age of sixteen, that she was-

And Oh, ohhhh, you hadn’t drank. Or touched your food-

“You’re pregnant” it doesn’t feel real to him as he says it, as his lips gram the words he can’t really feel himself speak them.

You gasp softly- your big eyes locked with his for a moment where everything goes still around the two of you, and then you nod.

It’s like he had peered straight into your soul anyway. Like he already knew.

“Yeah, I am. Nine weeks- well almost ten now, I guess”

“Oh...oh fuck” Bucky breathes out, a long exhale because he’d been holding his breath and oh shit- he hasn’t had a panic attack in years but this sure feels like what the start one.

“Bucky?”

“It’s mine?” He knows it’s an asshole question, but he grits it out anyway because he has to be sure of what he already knows.

“Yeah, it is. I haven’t been with anyone since we were together” It’s the truth, and he knows because you have a big fat unfiltered mouth that you hadn’t been with anyone for months before him.

“Five months?” You remember him breathing into your neck “Fuck, doll, how? No way”

“Mmhmm” you’d hummed as he’d kissed down your chest “I’m not a whore like you- I can go a few months without sex with out my genitals shriveling up and my brain short circuiting”

He’d laughed around a mouthful of breast.

And now you were pregnant. With his baby.

He gapes like a fucking fish as he tries to digest it all.

“I’m going to keep it, Bucky. And that doesn’t mean I expect you, or am going to force you to be in they’re life but I just...I don’t know I thought i should tell you? And not because I felt obligated to or anything...I mean kind of, but because you’re a good person and I wanted you to know” You’re rambling, yeah, but you’re saying your peace.

“You’re ten weeks?” Bucky questions, breaking you out of your ramblings and you nod, a little confused.

“Yeah, it’s the size of a Cherry right now...trippy, right?”

Bucky barks out a laugh, still in that headspace where he though he might wake up at any given moment.

“A cherry. Oh my god. Holy fuck- you’re pregnant” Bucky exasperates and then puts his hands on his face, trying to calm down. Trying to get a grip on himself.

He knows you. Knows that you’re not lying about it being his, why would you? And there’s a baby inside you, right this moment. One that he’d put there- that the two of you had created together.

“Yup. Super fucking pregnant- a doctor confirmed it and everything” You try to lighten the mood a little, just like you always do.

“Really?”

“Yeah...here, look” you dog through your handbag for a moment and then pull out a laminated picture and reach across the table to hand it to him.

When Bucky takes his first look at it, his heart squeezes and his breath gets stuck in his throat again.

It’s the ultrasound picture. Black and white, unidentifiable shapes- but his eyes zero in on the little blob in the darkness. The baby.

His baby.

His heart clenches again.

“There it is” you point out what he’s looking out with a manicured finger “that’s the baby. I know it all looks like an obscure Picasso painting or something but that’s it” you kind of hate calling your baby an it, but you don’t know what else to call...them, yet.

“A cherry” Bucky whispers, asks.

“Yeah, like-“ you make that annoying, internet famous, 6 shape, with your hand and put it up to your eye to look through it “this big”

Bucky chuckles. You’re so dumb. And so special, for being able to make such a tense situation feel...lighter.

“I’m going to want to be in this baby’s life, you know that, right?” Yeah, he doesn’t know how he feels about all of this yet. He still thinks this might be some kind of fever dream- that maybe he died from that flu he had last week, but he’d been raised right by his mom and pop.

Was he a bit slutty? Yeah, he guesses he’d own that(argue that he only acted on how he was pursued)

Could he be a little bit of an arrogant prick? You, and plenty of other people had told him that plenty in his life and yeah, he’d own that one too.

But he’d never, could never, leave you alone to raise this child. Not with how he felt about you- and shit, even if he wasn’t harboring these feelings could he ever just leave a woman who he’d gotten pregnant completely alone.

“Don’t make promises in the heat of the moment, I’m not expecting-“

“Me to want to be a father to my child” he doesn’t snap, per say, but he knows you can hear how offended he is. It makes you bite the inside of your lip.

“I don’t know. I just don’t...want you to feel like you have to say things you don’t mean because I’m sitting in front of you right now. Like? You might feel different later, you know?”

Bucky instantly feels bad for snapping at you. You’d been sitting on this, thinking you might have to do this alone…

Bucky looks back at the ultrasound picture and his stomach rolls at the idea of you doing this alone. Of him missing this first milestone of your pregnancy. Of his child’s life.

His child.

He’d woken up this morning, single, uncomplicated and now...he knew there was a baby that was half him inside of you.

He should have had that stronger drink.

“I’m going to be there for this baby, and for you. I don’t know what that looks like yet and I can’t promise I’ll be great at it, but I’m going to be here” his voice gets soft and passionate and fuck, the way he’s looking at you, vowing this to you…

It’s almost more than you can handle.

“Okay...I’m game” you say, and he snorts and nods.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if he’ll be a good dad or not. There’s so many unknowns swirling around his head, clogging his brain-

But he knows he’s not going anywhere.

“We’re going to have a baby” He says it, and this time it feels a little more real as it comes out of his mouth. “Holy fuck I’m going to be a dad”

“Um, congratulations” The waiter chooses that time to come back to the table, and the kid who can’t be more then eighteen looks a little awkward at intruding “Do you want a celebratory piece of cake?”

“You know what? Yeah we do- and please, make sure there’s a cherry on top”

He grins too big when he asks for a cherry and you know he’s needs it as a visual comparison to the size of the baby inside you. Bucky is so obnoxious.

He’s also beautiful- in the restaurants low light. All teeth and bright blue eyes- his brows still pulled together and his expression a little overwhelmed, but not mad. Not disgusted or cold like you’d feared.

You can almost here both Wanda and MJ’s “told you so’s” now.

You can’t help but share in his contagious smile- the nerves that had players you aren’t completely gone, not by a long shot.

But...you and Bucky Barnes were going to have a baby.

You could only hope that the two of you didn’t fuck it up too bad. 

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @gifsbysimplysonia @brieannakeogh @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si @hufflepuff-always-forever @morganhoran1671 @imdiegohargreeves @nikolett3 @miss-mcbotty @nerdgirljen @readingsubtitles @sgtbookybarnes @prussiangilbert @tiredofsatansbullshit @bitchwhytho @mishameadows @heartbeats-wildly @10kindsofderp @xodearling @notyourtypcalrose @rachelle-on-the-run

The taglist for this story is still OPEN. If you would like to be tagged, please be aware that I will be expecting feedback, and will not take the time to tag you again if you don’t give any- I will update with the next chapter once this chapter reaches 100 notes.

Okayyy, so here’s part two. It might be a little cheesy, but I really want this story to be more fluff then angst, okay?! Which let me say is not easy for me because lately I’ve been one angsty bitch.

So I decided that I wanted to play with more MCU characters then I normally do, do something different- and that’s how I came up with the idea that the readers little sister is MJ(Michelle Jones) from Spider-Man. I love Zendaya- and since I’m usually writing a mixed race reader- she fits as a sibling.

Just for heads up, a little spoiler for the next chapters, I will also be having the Van Dynes be in her family tree. Hope is her cousin.

I’m really just trying to have fun writing for Marvel again. Hope you guys are having fun reading this.