i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".
it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.
do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.
but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.
do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).
you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.
walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.
no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.
do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."
you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.
there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.
i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.
he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."
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Your personal triggers and squicks do not get to determine what kind of art other people make.
People make shit. It's what we do. We make shit to explore, to inspire, to explain, to understand, but also to cope, to process, to educate, to warn, to go, "hey, wouldn't that be fucked up? Wild, right?"
Yes, sure, there are things that should be handled with care if they are used at all. But plenty more things are subjective. Some things are just not going to be to your tastes. So go find something that is to your tastes and stop worrying so much about what other people are doing and trying to dictate universal moral precepts about art based on your personal triggers and squicks.
I find possession stories super fucking triggering if I encounter them without warning, especially if they function as a sexual abuse metaphor. I'm not over here campaigning for every horror artist to stop writing possession stories because they make me feel shaky and dissociated. I just check Does The Dog Die before watching certain genres, and I have my husband or roommate preview anything I think might upset me so they can give me more detail. And if I genuinely don't think I can't handle it, I don't watch it. It's that simple.
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beer & apologies
(buddie) (722 words) (7x04 coda)
It’s late, later than any reasonable person would show up on a friend’s doorstep, but Buck’s got this bright, warm feeling in his chest and all he wants to do is apologize so he can share it. For a split second he thinks about knocking, but that feels a little too much like going backwards. Instead, he lets himself in and hangs his key on the hook.
“Eddie,” he calls quietly into the still house.
“Kitchen.” The reply is soft, easy, like Eddie was expecting him.
Buck steps into the room and holds up the beer he brought.
Eddie looks up at him and grins, soft and warm in the glow of the lamplight. “What’s that for?”
“This is ‘sorry for acting like a teenager and spraining your ankle’ beer,” Buck says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”
Eddie sighs and pushes an empty chair back from the table with his foot, gesturing for Buck to sit. “I’m sorry too,” he says.
“No, no, you don’t—" Buck starts.
“Yeah, I do,” Eddie interrupts with a wry grin. “You should definitely be sorry-er, though, so I’ll take the beer.”
Buck snorts and sits, setting the six pack on the table between them.
“We didn’t—well, I didn’t…”
“I know,” Buck says. “I was just—”
“I know,” Eddie says softly.
A few, quiet moments pass, and it’s comfortable, exactly what Buck was missing the last couple of days.
“Hey,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “at least now I know why you always said no to basketball.” He smiles, loose and just a tiny bit mischievous.
Buck splutters. “What? No! I wasn’t that bad,” he protests.
Eddie lifts his injured ankle and raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, well maybe, but—”
“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “no buts. You haven many talents, Buck, but basketball isn’t one of them.”
Buck ducks his head and grins. “Maybe I’ll get Tommy to teach me, then I can beat you without playing dirty.” Saying Tommy’s name out loud gives birth to a few giddy butterflies in his stomach.
“You two make up?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” Buck says. “He uh—texted me.” The butterflies turn to little rocks.
“Good,” Eddie says, “that’s good.” He grabs a beer and twists the top off. “I really think you guys will get along, if you give him a chance.”
“We, um. Yeah. We probably will.” Buck grabs a beer of his own and stares at the label.
He doesn’t—he didn’t mean to lie. It just kind of… came out. Which, it’s Eddie. Buck knows he could tell him exactly what happened, right now, and it’d be fine. It’d be completely fine because it’s Eddie and he knows Eddie would be cool about it, probably even happy for him! But when he goes to open his mouth it just. Doesn’t.
“How’s—uh. How’s Marisol?” he asks instead, tripping over his words.
Eddie shrugs. “She’s fine, same as always. Apparently Christopher got her to play Fortnite, which, according to him, was a disaster.”
Buck laughs, shaking his head. “That kid,” he says softly.
“That kid,” Eddie agrees. He takes another swig of beer and sits back.
“Hey, wait,” Buck says suddenly. He lurches forward and snags the bottle out of Eddie’s hand. “You can’t have this, you’re on pain killers.”
“It’s my apology beer!” Eddie protests.
“Nope, two sips is plenty. I can’t hurt your ankle and your liver on the same day.”
“It’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow,” Eddie pouts. “Give it.” He makes a halfhearted attempt to grab it back, but Buck holds the beer aloft.
“Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Buck says. “You can drink your apology beer this weekend.”
“My apology beer is going to be flat and stale,” Eddie replies, unimpressed.
Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new apology beer, alright?”
“Promises, promises.”
“I will!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You better. Want to bring it over on Saturday? We can watch the game.”
Buck’s grin falters a little bit, even as that warm feeling bubbles up in his chest all over again. “I uh- can’t, sorry.”
“What, you got a hot date or something?” Eddie asks with a laugh.
Buck takes a long swallow from the beer he stole from Eddie. “Yeah, something,” he says with a hollow laugh.
He feels like a liar.
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One thing I really miss from the pandemic was when you could rent new release movies at home. As a disabled person who is largely confined to home, it meant I finally got to watch a lot of new releases and be up to date with all the things my peers were watching and enthusing about.
As it is, I'm probably not going to get to see Barbie for several months until it comes out on MAX. And by then, most of the hype will be over, and the hype is so much of what makes it fun! It's the ability to be included in a way that doesn't hurt me or cause me undue distress, and like so many accessibility things that were implemented during the pandemic, it's just gone.
idk, man. I'm just... I have a lot of emotions over what it means to be disabled and to have your peers just constantly move on without you and not even notice they're doing it, and you're just the lonely kid that never got invited to the movies because you're Different so a few months later you take yourself to blockbuster and watch the movie alone in your room and know you'll have no one to talk to about the new fun thing you love because everyone else has already moved on without you. Except you're not a kid anymore. You're an adult. But you're still nursing that hurt because the rejection never stopped. You're still Different. And no one makes allowances for things like that.
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- random pickup lines shitpost -
🐉: "My name may not be Juan but I juan-na be with you always."
🌸: "Who taught you that corny-ass pick-up line."
🐉: "I read it from a book titled 1000 jokes guaranteed to make anyone smile."
🌸: "Did you memorize a line from a joke book and use it to flirt with me?"
🐉: "Without you I feel like a juan-derer lost in life."
🌸: "Oh my god."
🐉: "But with you I feel like I have juan the lottery of life."
🌸: "Why are you so obsessed with Juan?"
🐉: "I juan-der what our future looks like. You are the juan for me."
🌸: "Omg stop, pick another name at least?"
🐉: "Yuu are my entire yuuniverse. Yuu are my juan and only. "
🌸: "STOP IT WITH THE JUAN PUNS."
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