#NOT an anniversary post i’m just being gay on a monday

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

*

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

[fuckrealityfictionisbetter]

I posted 15,014 times in 2021

344 posts created (2%)

14670 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 42.6 posts.

I added 508 tags in 2021

#soz - 121 posts

#random - 119 posts

#criminal minds - 88 posts

#spencer reid - 83 posts

#personal - 43 posts

#old asks - 20 posts

#9-1-1 - 12 posts

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#cat adams - 7 posts

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Longest Tag: 137 characters

#s1 raid: hey guys this is my gf isn’t she amazing 🥰😍 morgan: she has face tattoos reid:yes🥰🥺🥰 don’t worry her eyes are just contacts

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

For the gays

For the lesbians

For the bi’s

65 notes • Posted 2021-03-16 20:13:20 GMT

#4

Supernatural ending really was the complete opposite of game of thrones wasn’t it? A day after got ended I never heard about it again, it’s 2 freaking days before the 1 year anniversary of spn ending and a warning is already trending

73 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 21:18:48 GMT

#3

Other “fan girls” : has a collection of sad white men they swoon over because they’re attractive lol how basic

Me : has a collection of the same sad white men so I can steal their gender give me all ur gender now

86 notes • Posted 2021-07-06 23:23:26 GMT

#2

Reid’s little getting arrested in Mexico outfit means he thought a) that he needed a little  disguise for meeting dodgy doctors in hotel rooms and went out to buy the most disguiseie outfit he could think of b) because he was going to Mexico he wanted a little outfit to match and went out to buy a Mexico specific fashion statement, or c) he just dresses like that when not on the job and we were robbed for 15 years

95 notes • Posted 2021-02-03 23:05:30 GMT

#1

Emails professor Dr Reid has had to send

- unfortunately I have been shot again, this Monday’s exam will be moved to next Monday

- I have been informed you are all aware that a few members of class were involved in a cult, I’m sorry to inform you that they failed to sacrifice me, Thursdays exam will still take place

- class will be cancelled today as I am being forced to a date against my will, enjoy the day off

2473 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 09:52:22 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[d-criss-news]

Just a few days after speaking to PEOPLE exclusively, Darren Criss’ father died.

The Glee alum, 33, announced the death in an Instagram post on Monday, writing in a statement, “Bill Criss has left the building. After many years of coping with a rare heart condition — which, true to his form, very few would have even been aware of — he finally checked out peacefully yesterday morning, surrounded by his loved ones.” Of his father, he wrote: “I’ve spent most of my life trying to be like him, wanting to see and do all the incredible things he did — and I’m so grateful he was around to see me actually pull a few off.”

Criss grew up in San Francisco. His father worked in finance and his mom, Cerina, was a stay-at-home mother.

“Growing up there,” Criss, 33, told PEOPLE last week, “in such a metropolitan place, it was quite charmed.”

Before his father’s passing, Criss spoke about his 10-year anniversary working in Hollywood — he joined the cast of Glee in 2010 — and the recent one-year anniversary of his marriage to his wife Mia, a television producer he began dating shortly after he arrived in Los Angeles.

But, more than anything else, Criss wanted to talk about his understanding of what his heritage means to him. Criss plays a director in Netflix’s Hollywood, which reimagines the golden era of movie making as a far more accepting place for Asian, African American, and gay actors.

“Everybody relates to adversity. Everybody wants to root for the underdog.” This, he says, is why he loves his job. “Performance at its core, is to have the audience see itself in a different way. Hopefully, for the better. That is sometimes lost in the category of ‘entertainment.’ ”

Hollywood takes place in the 1940s but the subject matter is very present-day for Criss. One of his first lines on the show is so simple. He says, “I’m half-Filipino.” It’s true of Criss’ character and of Criss. He knows that for much of his career, he has been seen as “conventionally Caucasian.”

“I’ve been half-Filipino my whole life.” His mother was born in Cebu City in the Philippines. “But no one ever asked about it. It’s tough, this idea of ‘white passing.’ It’s not even a term I heard of until the past two years. When people have a say in who you are — people you don’t even know — it makes you rethink what your balance is. Something you’ve had down your whole life.”

“It’s a tricky cocktail in America,” Criss says. “Anyone who is biracial can attest to this: No matter how much or how little they look like their respective mix, it’s a constant work in progress.”

“I’ve always been proud of my history, of being Filipino. Just because people don’t see it, doesn’t make it any less real to me.” But now, everyone knows.

Criss says it’s as if he “came out” as half-Filipino, when he thanked his mother from the stage at the Golden Globes. And because of that moment he says, “I’m closer to my identity than I ever was before.”

[our-time-is-now]

May 27, 2019: Butterfly-Boyfriend

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog. 

Monday, 3:27 pm: Matteo: *spent a lovely morning with David at his place* *he had made breakfast and they sat in the kitchen for a long time with Laura and talked* *when it was time to shower and get ready, he realized that he didn't have any clean clothes left and they decided to go to the flatshare so Matteo could shower, change and pack new clothes* *so now arrives at the flatshare with David* *can see from jackets and shoes that all of his flatmates are home* *turns to David* If you still want coffee, you can make some and I'll jump in the shower?

David: *takes off his jacket and shoes when they arrive at the flatshare and nods at Matteo’s words* Okay… don’t be too long... *smiles and looks after him before he goes into the kitchen himself* *still feels a bit weird going through the cupboards and to just help himself especially when he knows that Matteo and him are not alone* *starts making some coffee and takes a cup from the cupboard* *sits down on a stool while he waits for the coffee and scrolls through Instagram* *pours himself a cup and contemplates going to Matteo’s room but then stays in the kitchen and plays on his phone while he waits for Matteo to be finished with the shower* *eventually hears a door and footsteps in the corridor and then sees Hans entering the kitchen*

Hans: *comes into the kitchen to make himself some coffee* *smiles when he sees David* Oh, hey… I didn’t hear you get in* *sees that the coffee is already finished* Can I have a cup? *sees David nod, takes his pink santa claus cup and pours himself some coffee* *leans against the kitchen counter and looks at David* *thinks that he looks good, somehow relaxed* I am glad that the two of you finally got together by the way. *smiles honestly* Even though that means that I now have two flatmates who are practically no longer at my disposal* *grins slightly*

David: *observes Hans as he pours himself some coffee and thinks it’s rude to continue to look at his phone while Hans is in the kitchen* *smiles at his words* Thanks. I am too… *laughs quietly* *laughs a bit louder at Hans’ next words* *knows from Matteo that Hans has been upset before about Mia being at Alex’ place so often* Think of it as having two new semi-flatmates who are basically an addition to the people who are at your disposal... *shrugs* *has no idea what Alex is like and whether he and Mia are more often in the flatshare or at his place but thinks that Matteo and he keep it quite balanced, that they are sometimes at his home and sometimes in the flatshare*

Hans: *laughs at his words* You haven’t met Alex yet, have you? *makes a dismissive gesture* *blows into his cup and sips once* *then looks at David again* But I'll gladly take you, my little butterfly-boyfriend... *smiles again and thinks that he's a really good gay guru and can support Matteo even better if he gets to know David well too* In any case, it's great that Matteo doesn't hang around in his room stoned for days on end... that was no longer acceptable!

David: *shakes his head at Hans’ question* Not yet… I only know him from seeing him at school… *has to grin at Hans’ dismissive gesture and his next words* Thanks… I am very relieved, puh… *laughs* *gets serious again when he talks about Matteo’s state* *takes a sip of coffee and nods* Yes, that is great… and I hope that it doesn’t happen again anytime soon… *lowers his gaze because he knows exactly of which time Hans is talking about and his bad conscience takes over again* *then says partly as an apology, partly as justification* I was just afraid he wouldn't be able to accept it... *thinks that it's actually none of Hans’ business and that he doesn’t has to justify himself, but now the sentence is out* *shrugs slightly and takes another sip of coffee*

Hans: *hears the justification in David’s voice* Mhm… but well… *shrugs* As far as I know you hadn’t told him then, have you? *quickly adds* But I understand… really… but I have seen Matteo’s side of it all, you know? He was pretty down… *sighs slightly because now he's gotten too involved* I'm sorry, David... the important thing is that you guys worked it out...

David: *shakes his head and sighs* No, I haven’t. That was the time when I… when we had no contact and he didn’t know why… *thinks about Hans’ words and is glad that he understands him at least a bit* *maybe that's why he doesn't shut the subject down immediately but says* I didn't think he'd be so miserable. Maybe I would have told him earlier if I had known that... but there's nothing I can do about it now... *shrugs and takes another sip of coffee* He told me that he talked to you... anyway... thanks for being there for him... *nods at Hans’ previous words and smiles slightly * Yeah, that's the important thing...

Hans: *smiles slightly when David says that he wouldn’t have thought that Matteo would be so miserable* Well, it's always hard to believe you mean so much to someone, huh? *takes another sip of his coffee* Well, honestly, I was surprised too... I have never seen Matteo like that... that something or someone means that much to him... but you... *grins slightly* I've rarely seen anyone so secure and insecure at the same time... *makes a dismissive gesture when David thanks him* I didn't say much... just reminded him of what was important...

David: *blushes when Hans implies how much he means to Matteo and shrugs* *doesn’t know what to reply to that except that Matteo means as much to him but thinks that’s too personal* *smiles bitterly when Hans talks about being secure and insecure and mumbles* I was just insecure... not about my feelings for Matteo, but more about whether it could work with us... and I should have seen that he was pretty sure about that... I think that Matteo's insecurity was my fault... *takes another sip of his coffee and then grins slightly when Hans says he didn't do much* Well, at least you didn't tell him, "That guy treats you like shit, he's not worth going after."

Hans: *nods slowly* *smiles a bit* He was pretty sure… until you gave him the cold shoulder… then he was insecure, but also somehow not… *thinks about their talk at easter* I think he was just pretty confused… *laughs at David’s last sentence* No not that… I expect thank-you cards and flowers at the known address. *tilts his head and examines David* *thinks about how much to tell him* *but just goes for it* I told him to give you time or forget about you... so maybe the thank-you cards should go to him for choosing the first option.

David: *listens to Hans and nods* *can imagine that Matteo was confused - probably even more after he suddenly sent him the drawings* *thinks not for the first time that they could have had it a lot easier if he just had a little more courage and talked to Matteo earlier* *but then grins at Hans' demand* You can get that at Matteo's and my one-year anniversary… for today it has to be enough that I made coffee... *takes the last sip and gets up to pour himself another coffee * *fills up on Hans' cup as well* *then continues to listen to Hans and nods again* *but then thinks that neither of the two options are actually true and that he is glad about it - glad that Matteo thought at some point that he had enough time now, which was somehow true* *then grins and tries to chase away the bitter thoughts* Well, you didn't know me then... or you might not have mentioned the second option... *sits down again*

Hans: *laughs slightly and nods* At your one-year anniversary… well, well… I’ll come back to you about that. *laughs again at his second sentence, now a bit louder* I like that. Yes, if I had known you back then I would have known that it’s impossible to forget about you. *thanks him for the coffee and adds some milk* You know, I think it's not the worst thing that you had a rocky start… that also strengthens the relationship and then you know for sure that you want to be together… I am sure we will celebrate your ten-year anniversary as well.

David: *laughs when Hans tells him that one can’t forget about him* *blows in his coffee and continues to listen to him* *thinks about Hans’ words and smiles* I sure hope so… I mean in regards to the ten-year anniversary… *briefly presses his lips together as he formulates his thoughts in his head and runs his hand over his neck* Uhm… I do think that it strengthened our relationship… somehow. Of course there is still a little bit of uncertainty - everything is still very new. But I think, after all the back and forth we are at least both sure that the other one really feels the same and wants this relationship as much as oneself... *shrugs* … and that it is okay to be the way you are. *remembers how quickly Matteo came to terms with the fact that he's trans and how he just takes everything as it comes because it seems like he only sees David as a person and everything else is completely irrelevant* *notices how his heartbeat picks up speed at his affection for Matteo and blushes* *quickly grabs his cup of coffee and sips his way-too-hot coffee*

Hans: *only grins at the mention of the ten-year anniversary* *tilts his head a bit as David continues talking* *feels honored that he shares his feelings so openly with him* *gets a little touchy when he hears David talking like that and sees him blushing* Yes, yes my little butterfly, he had a lot to learn but then he flew beautifully* *smiles at David* And found a beautiful butterfly-boyfriend. I am so happy for you.

Matteo: *comes into the kitchen in new clothes but with his hair still wet - who needs a hair dryer?!* *asks with raised eyebrows* Butterfly-boyfriend? *passes Hans and wants to go to the coffee pot, which is empty by now* *sighs, then goes to David, gives him a kiss and steals his cup* *grins widely and takes a quick sip before he gives it back* *looks astonished from one to the other as no one says anything* Am I interrupting?

David: *laughs at Hans' butterfly metaphors and says* We need some kind of stupid  nickname for you too... *then sees that Matteo's back from the shower and immediately smiles* Hey... *puts his arms around Matteo when he stands next to him and steals his cup* *shakes his head at his question and grins lightly* Not in the slightest! Hans and I were just talking about our ten-year anniversary... *looks up at him to see his reaction*

Matteo: *raises his eyebrows and looks from David to Hans and back* *wonders what happened here* Your ten-year anniversary? *steals the cup again as David doesn’t seem to mind* *takes another sip and then grins at David* And from which date do you start counting? Today or your sausage meeting?

David: *hears Hans laugh and also has to laugh out loud at Matteo's question* *nudges him slightly into the side* Not between Hans and me - ours! *hears Hans: "But if the little butterfly already gives us such a template, maybe we should actually celebrate our ten-year anniversary! Maybe there will be some cake left over from your anniversary, which we can use."* *grins slightly and says* Owww, yeah, cake sounds good! And pudding! *looks at Matteo again* With a ten on it? *wiggles with his eyebrows* *then he hears Hans' phone vibrate, sees him get up and grab his cup* *hears him say, "Work that out yourselves, my dears! This is Andi..."* *sees him leave the kitchen*

Matteo: *laughs because he really didn't think about that* *but catches himself enjoying the idea of celebrating anniversaries with David* *grins at him just a little* I seeeeeeee, /that/ ten-year anniversary... *then laughs again* Sure, with a ten on it, and big balloons with a ten on it, and sandwiches, of course... *just looks at Hans briefly when he disappears, and then back to David* So you guys were talking about /our/ ten-year anniversary, huh?

David: *grins* Of course with sandwiches! *lets Matteo go because he thinks that maybe he wants to sit down too and thinks for a moment whether he should offer to make him another coffee, but then hears his question and shrugs with slightly reddened cheeks* Hans said that our rocky start probably made us know for sure that we want to be together... that it probably strengthened us somehow and that he is pretty sure that we will not only celebrate our one-year but also our ten-year anniversary... * grins a little insecurely because he doesn't know whether Matteo sees this more as a joke or a serious thought*

Matteo: *laughs when David tells him what they talked about* Sounds like Hans... *sits down on the stool next to David* *thinks that in some mysterious way Hans always knew exactly what he needed to hear and therefore probably understands and knows him better than he thought at first* *is glad that David and Hans obviously immediately got along well* *then grins a little* I had to call him Gay Guru so he'd give me tips. So I guess he knows what he's talking about. *bends down and gives David a grinning kiss* So I'd say it must be true what he says...

David: *laughs* Gay Guru!? Oh well… we need a nickname for him as soon as possible… *thinks at the butterflies* *grins and meets Matteo halfway* *then says* Even if the things he says are true... someday that will get to his head. *peeps into his coffee cup where just a little puddle of coffee is left and then looks at Matteo* Besides, he drank all the coffee. Shall I make some more? I mean, you barely got any of it.

Matteo: *also laughs* Yes, Gay Guru, you can try it with another nickname but I am not sure if he will let you. *nods at Davis’s suggestion* More coffee would be great… *leans back on his stool and watches David as he gets up and moves towards the coffee machine* *gets the now familiar warm tingle in his stomach area as David moves around the kitchen, knowing exactly where everything is and getting everything ready* *smiles to himself and can't take his eyes off*

David: *grins slightly* IfI ever think of something creative and silly then he has to accept it… *nods when Matteo wants more coffee and smiles* Okay… *gets up and fills new water and coffee powder into the coffee machine* * looks at Matteo and realizes he's watching him* *get a little nervous and smiles slightly* *then gets a new cup for Matteo out of the cupboard and out of the corner of his eye sees that he is still looking at him* *grins slightly and puts the cup on the table in front of Matteo* *mumbles quietly* You are watching me… *grins slightly*

Matteo: *isn’t put off, even when David looks back* *grins when he puts down the cup and even more at his words* Maybe... *grabs his hip and pull a little so David gets closer* *then shrugs one shoulder* I like looking at you... *looks at him with a smile* Besides, this is kind of good... you here... in my kitchen...

David: *laughs softly at his "maybe" and mumbles* I'm pretty sure about that... *comes closer to Matteo when he pulls on his hip and is now sort of between his legs* *smiles when Matteo says he likes to look at him, but feels himself blush a little and briefly lowers his gaze in embarrassment* *sees Matteo smile whenhe looks up again and puts his hands around Matteo's hip* *grins slightly* ...me here... in your kitchen... making coffee. *but thinks he knows what Matteo means and has to think about how wonderful and good it feels when Matteo moves around in his apartment as if he were at home there, as if he had always belonged there*

Matteo: *doesn’t stop grinning* *nods* Exactly… *then stretches a little to give him a kiss * *then mumbles softly* If I could get used to that...

David: *pfft’s quietly, but then gets kissed and moves a little closer to Matteo* *grumbles as Matteo breaks the kiss, but mumbles back* You're a much better coffee brewer than I am... *grins again and continues to kiss him this time a little longer* *enjoys Matteo's company and the familiar smell of Matteo's shower gel * *mumbles into the kiss* You smell nice... *then has to grin, breaks the kiss and adds* ...you should shower more often…

Matteo: *shakes his head* Nonsense... it's just putting powder in it... *kisses him back and pulls him even closer* *has to grin as well* *yet looks at David outraged as he breaks the kiss* *and even more so at his next words* *pushes him a bit away* Are you implying I stink?

David: *laughs as Matteo pushes him away and immediately approaches him again* *pulls him closer and wraps his arms around him even when he defends himself* I wouldn't dare saying that... *grins and looks at him with doggy eyes* *but then get serious and shakes his head* You always smell good... always like Matteo... *associates some sappy things with it in his head: home, "mine", love, familiarity, ...- but doesn't say any of it to avoid embarrassment*

Matteo: *laughs* Sure, that’s what I'd say too... *but, of course, immediately wraps his arms around David again* *smiles when he sees the look on David's face* Hey... *puts one hand up on his neck, half in his hair* *ask softly* With your thoughts elsewhere?

David: *is glad that Matteo's resistance is easing and he's putting his arms around him again* *looks into his eyes when he talks to him and feels his hand on the back of his neck* *feels his heart beat a little faster and smiles slightly* *shakes his head at his question and says softly* Still with you and everything you smell like... *leans a little bit against Matteo's hand on the back of his neck*

Matteo: *smiles at his response* *starts rubbing the back of his neck a little* Sweat, coffee, musty socks, right now shower gel?

David: *briefly closes his eyes when Matteo begins rubbing the back of his neck but still listens to him* *has to grin a bit* *shakes his head, nods, shakes his head again and nods again* *opens his eyes and looks at him again* … and like a lot of other sappy things...

Matteo: *laughs at his head movement but then smiles softly at his response* Idiot… *doesn't ask any more questions, but pulls him close to kiss him*

(next play)

[ethanswhxre]

Perfect Mistake

A/n: I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS 15 YEARS OLD AND NEVER PUT IT ANYWHERE so you all get this great gem. Pls do not judge too harshly. Also 1D is still together because I do not care enough to change the plot that much 

Word Count: 3k (I have another 3k I can post if literally anybody wants it)

Summary (this is from 1dff days so its a whole bit w an excerpt and everything): “I just don't know what to do Harry." 

"Well I know what I wanna do," he said, pressing against me. 

"Harry, we're drunk. We're not thinking straight." My voice was shaky as I took a step a backwards, shivering when my back hit the wall. 

"I can think just fine," he purred, leaning in. And then his lips were crashing against mine, hard and demanding. His hands landed on my hips, one running up the length of my body and tangling in my hair. His tongue ran along the seam of my lips and I gave him what he wanted. Because I wanted it too.

He pulled away and looked at me funny. "Marry me." 

It wasn't even a question the way he said it. It was a demand. 

And I didn't even think twice about it. "Okay." 

Harry smiled and picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Alright then, let's go find a priest." 

And I don't know if it was the alcohol or Harry, but Devon never even crossed my mind. 

Chapter One

It was raining. Again. It had rained everyday for the past week and I was getting really tired of riding my bike around in it. Not to mention, I was supposed to meet Mac at La Val’s Pizza 5 minutes ago. She knew I was prone to lateness though, so she usually told me to be somewhere 15 minutes before she actually wanted me there. Which is why she was my best friend.

My bike screeched up to the front of La Val’s just as Mac rounded the corner.

“Hey Kitty Cat!” She said, sticking her tongue out as she came towards me. Her ratty blonde hair was up in a bun and her small frame was huddled under her bright yellow rain jacket. I had to look just as good in my old black leather jacket and sweatpants.

Mac walked to the door, holding it open for me as I locked up my bike. “Hurry up before I melt!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re a witch,” I said, snorting.

“No.” She elongated the “O”, rounding her lips exaggeratedly. “It’s because I’m made of sugar!” she said, shivering in her rain boots. “Now hurry!”

My bike lock clicked closed and I ran to the door and inside the warm dry restaurant, Mac following close behind.

I grabbed a table while she went up to order our usual: a large beef, onion, and green pepper pizza. Mac found me a couple of minutes later, Lori Jones in tow.

“Look who I found!” She sat down across from me, pulling Lori in next to her. Lori was a freshman who had a single dorm just down the hall from us. She was pretty enough, with her short brown hair and large green eyes, and nice enough definitely. The thing about Lori though, was that she was overly obsessive. I mean yeah, sure I have my leather jackets and Mac had Spongebob but Lori got obsessive about everything. For example, as soon as her butt hit the seat, she wouldn’t shut up about One Direction.

“They’re playing The Greek Theatre tonight y’know. That’s literally 5 minutes away from my dorm. Aren’t you excited? I’m soooo excited. I mean so what I’ve seen them live 7 times already. I could always go for an 8th! Or even a 9th! Or a billionth really. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of them. They’re debuting a song tonight y’know. My ovaries are going to explode, I’m sure of it!”

Mac put a hand over Lori’s, quieting her. “Yeah it sounds great and all but Cat and I aren’t even going tonight.”

“What! That’s crazy! Why not! I mean it’s a free One Direction concert! You guys are crazy!”

“Not crazy,” I put in. “Just not fans.”

“You guys don’t like their music!” She looked appalled and enraged at the same time. Like she couldn’t imagine a teenage girl who wasn’t a fan of boyband-pop.

“It’s not that we don’t like it,” Mac said, looking to me for help because she did, in fact, hate everything having to do with One Direction.

“It’s more that we just have a lot to do and aren’t big enough fans to go. I have all their stuff on my phone, I just don’t have a desire to hear it live.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly it,” Mac said, looking quite relieved.

Just then, the pizzas arrived. We were silent as we ate.

At 6, Lori practically ran out of the pizza shop so she’d have enough time to get ready.

Mac and I left a couple of minutes later, me on my bike and her on foot. I rode slowly, never getting more than a couple feet in front of her. It was only drizzling then, and we talked as we walked.

“Y’know,” she started. “I think I might have a crush on Lori. I mean, there’s the whole ‘I’m in love with One Direction, who are boys, therefore I’m straight’ thing, but that’s really just a small issue.” Mac was gay. Like, painfully so sometimes. We’d been friends since 8th grade and while she’d only come out of the closet after we graduated, I’d known since the beginning. People asked me if it was weird, sharing a dorm room with her, but she swore she hadn’t even entertained the possibility of us being together since 10th grade when she’d had a ‘Cat is my soulmate’ spell. I trusted her and she trusted me and she was my best friend whether she liked to have sexual relations with boys or not.

I laughed, “Yeah, that’s really a tiny problem, easy to work around.” She shoved me lightly, almost knocking me off my bike. “What was that for?!”

“You were patronizing me. You with your perfect boyfriend and great relationship. I can’t believe you and Devon have been together for almost 2 years.” She sighed, almost longingly.

“Yup, our anniversary is on Thursday.” I got smiley just thinking of Devon. He and his twin brother, and my longtime friend, Ryan, had spent the last week in L.A. because Ryan had a dancing gig there. Dev was supposed to be home tomorrow and I couldn’t wait to see him.

My train of thought was interrupted by Mac suddenly shouting.

“What the..? Mac are you alright?” She was looking down at her phone, her mouth wide open.

“Look at this picture Annie just sent me of Megan! Look at it!” She shoved her screen in my face. On it was a picture of Megan Fox in a bikini. Spongebob and Megan Fox were Mac’s 2 and only loves.

I just shook my head and pulled my bike up the steps to the front door of Stern Residential Hall. It was on the NE corner of Cal’s campus and only a couple minute walk to all of my classes. I adored it.

Mac caught up to me as I locked my bike up. Her phone was away now. “I’m so drained from work today but I have an essay due on Monday and I just want to watch Spongebob all day tomorrow.”

“Yeah I have loads of homework too,” I said, pulling the door open.

“Suprise!!”

“Ahhh!”

“Cat? What the? Ohhh. You idiot! You know she hates surprises!”

My eyes were squeezed shut and all I could hear was Mac’s loud yelling. Until: “Cat baby I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or upset you. I just wanted to do something nice. I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry.” And lean arms wrapped themselves around my small frame and lifted me to my toes. My eyes fluttered open to see my boyfriend's extremely apologetic face.

“Devon! You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow!” I cuddled my face into his chest, inhaling his scent of pine before looking up to take in the sight of him again. His brown hair laid flat on his head but his hazel eyes were alight. I sighed with happiness to just be near him again.

“You alright now?” He asked, putting me back down.

I nodded, snuggling into his side. He laughed and stepped away, making me look up at him. His usually confident air was suddenly shaky, like he was nervous. “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” I cocked my head to the side, waiting.

“I have something very important to ask you,” he said, before dropping down to one knee. I could feel my mouth drop open, dread running through my body. 

He could not be doing this. Not now. 

“Catherine Lauren Herrara, will you marry me?” His hopeful hazel eyes shown up at me as time slowed down. I couldn’t say yes. I wasn’t ready to get married. I mean, I loved Devon and I planned to marry him someday, just not any day soon. I loved my life the way it was. No, no he couldn’t do this to me. I didn’t want to hurt him by saying no, but I wasn’t ready to say yes. I could feel tears slipping from my eyes and my fight or flight reaction kicked in.

I fled.

Up 3 flights of stairs and down the hall to dorm number 308. I was shaking and couldn’t my key in the door. I could hear Devon, Ryan, and Mac running towards me, making me panicky. I finally got the key in, unlocked the door, and ran inside, slamming it closed behind me. I heard Mac sliding in her key, and I curled up into a ball on my bed, waiting for them to all come pouring in. But Mac shut the door before either of the twins could make it through.

“I love you, babe. No matter what. Please, talk to me,” Devon said from outside.

“Go away, Dev. Give her a bit. We’ll talk later okay?” Mac said back.

“Yeah, alright. Love you, Cat.”

Mac came and sat on the edge of my twin bed, stroking my hair. “What’s wrong babe? I thought you loved him?”

I sat up and sighed, wiping the tears from my face. “I do, Mac, I do. I really really do. I’m just not ready to marry him. I just… I like the way things are and I’m not ready for them to change.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell him that? He’d understand. Or at least try, for you. He loves you.”

“I know, it’s just that he looked so hopeful, I just couldn’t say no and crush him. I love him too much.” Mac nods, getting up. Well, how about we blast some music and get some schoolwork done? Nothing numbs your brain like good ol’ homework.”

After struggling through my schoolwork for a solid 4 hours, I was exhausted and my stomach was screaming for food. I was a person who had to eat at least 2 hours before I could fall asleep so I couldn't eat much. My stomach growled again and Mac, who'd gone to sleep hours ago, rolled over in her bed. I internally groaned, mind made up. I grabbed my computer and quietly snuck out of the room, tiptoed down the hall, and jumped in the elevator. When I made my way downstairs, I noticed a sleeping form on the couch in the lobby. Tiptoeing closer, I about gasped when I realized it was Devon. He slept here?! Did he think I'd eventually come down and talk to him? Was he planning on ambushing me when I came down in the morning?

I watched him sleep for a moment. He was agitated, tossing and turning. Without thinking I laid a hand on his shoulder. He calmed. I quickly pulled my hand back and walked to the door, looking over my shoulder as I pulled it open.

I left my bike locked up and quickly hopped down the stairs to the street. It was a 5-minute walk to my favorite coffee shop, Brewed Awakening, which was open till 2am. I walked along, lost in my thoughts.

I loved Devon, I did, but I couldn't get married, not with both my parents and my brother in the middle of a divorce. Devon knew my views on marriage. I had to be able to support myself before I got married. I needed a degree and a good job. I needed things to fall back on for when the inevitable happened.

I reached the coffee shop then and pulled the door open. Cathy was behind the counter. She was a senior majoring in news writing and I knew her from my creative writing class. She had talent. "Hey, Cat. Coming from the concert?" She must not have seen my laptop.

I chuckled a little. "Nah, not me," I said, holding my computer up. "Sucks you had to work tonight though if you wanted to go."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not a fan. Greg's paying me double for this shift actually because I'm the only one willing to work tonight."

"Ooh nice," I said, giving her a thumbs up. "Anyway, can I just get a hot chocolate please?"

"Of course!" I handed her a five dollar bill and she handed me the change back. "You alright hon?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing, I'm just arguing with Devon right now. He assured me he understood something and then turned around and proved he actually had no fucking clue." I shrugged, frowning.

Cathy nodded, humming in understanding before turning to make my chocolate milk. "I'm sure he'll come around. But honestly, as perfect for each other as you two are, I'm surprised you've lasted this long. You're both so young, barely 20. You don't know if there's anyone else, any other type of person you fit with. I've been with Tyler for three years but I had a whole year of crazy partying and one night stands. All the experimentation out of my system. Neither of you had that. And I guess some people don't need it and I don't want to say that your happiness isn't valid, it just surprises me."

She works as she talks, finishing just as she ends her last sentence. "Just think about it," she says, handing me the hot cup.

I nod, processing her words. She's right. I'd never been with anyone else. I hadn't had a serious boyfriend in high school and I'd been with Devon for both my years of college. I'd never gone out and danced with strangers or gotten blackout drunk and woken up in bed with someone whose name I didn't know. And these were experiences I wanted before I got married; before I even considered diving into that pool.

I sighed, sliding into a booth in the corner and opening my computer. My blog, Poetry Flowers, had hit 1 million visitors sometime that day and I decided a new poem and a thank you post was in order. All my attention went to that and I didn't notice when the doorbell dinged, or when the two other customers practically shrieked, and I certainly didn't notice when someone slid into the seat across from mine.

Which is why I jumped when he said hello.

My head shot up and I locked eyes with a pair of bright green irises. I raked my eyes up to his dark brown hair and then down to his thin lips. Harry Styles sat in front of me.

"Urm. Can I help you?" I asked, in slight shock.

"No." He slid his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking very at ease.

"Oh. So why are you sitting in my booth?"

"Is this your booth? I'm sorry. I didn't realize you owned it." He smirked.

"I don't own it, but I'm sitting here right now."

"On that side, yeah. So you can have that side, and I'll take this one."

I furrowed my eyebrows. “That’s really not how it works.”

He leaned in. “Look, this is the only place where no one can see me walking by. Please just let me sit here for a bit. I’m exhausted and I don’t think I can handle any more autographs.” His eyes are pleading, his face sad.

I leaned back in my seat, nodding my head a bit before going back to my blog. I’d written a poem already for the 1 million view occasion but I couldn’t bring myself to post it. I put up one I'd written during one of my homework breaks earlier, about Devon.

“So, um, what are you typing so intensely?” Harry asked.

“None of your business,” was my only reply. Suddenly, he shot up from his seat and slid in right next to me, his side pressing against mine.

“I was just 18 when we met

On the train to nowhere

But now we’re somewhere

I never meant to be

And I loved you for miles

Your smile was my heartbeat

And that was quite a feat

For someone without one

You know everything there is to know

But I don’t think you understand

I left my heart unmanned

And you tore it apart

Now I’m running in circles

Scared out of my mind

You say the stars aligned

For us that day

But I can’t bring myself to believe a single word you say”

“Wow. That’s pretty good. Did you write that?” He turns his face toward mine, leaving us just inches apart. My eyes fall to his lips, causing me to bite my own. I notice his eyes drop to where my teeth are dragging over my bottom lip. I want to lean in and kiss him, and I almost do when my head snaps back in place. What am I doing?! I have a boyfriend.

I swing my head around to face my laptop, breaking eye contact with Harry. I shake my head before answering. “Yeah, I wrote it. And you read it. Even though I really didn’t want you to.” I add a “Sorry it’s so sad but thank you guys so much for over a million visits!!” to the bottom and hit post, all while Harry is still breathing down my neck.

“So who’s it about?”

“No one.”

“It has to be about someone.”

“Well, it’s not.”

Suddenly, Cathy appears. “Here’s your coffee, Mr. Styles. I hope you like it. Hey, Cat.” She waves and walks away whistling, not realizing what she’s done.

“Cat, huh? Like a kitty cat? I like it. What’s it short for?” He takes a sip of his coffee. As if he needs more energy.

I don’t reply. “Okay fine. Whatever, Kitty Cat, don’t tell me.”

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. Harry Styles is much more annoying than I thought he’d be.

“Well, I’m out now. Thank you for letting me sit in not-your-booth.” He shoots me a wink. “Hope I see you around.”

He gets up and walks out, looking back as he opens the door. I sigh deeply, letting my head drop to my keyboard. 

I’m exhausted. 

I drain the rest of my hot chocolate and shut down my computer before waving goodbye to Cathy and leaving the coffee shop. A pool of girls stands on the sidewalk, surrounding Harry. He fakes smiles and laughs and signs a dozen things and I watch him for a moment, amazed at how well he handles the attention. He looks up just as I think that I should look away. Our eyes meet. He smiles, a real one, before going back to his audience.

I walk back home and climb in bed, my mind louder than ever. 

[djrelentless]

This Is Us

It's June 12th. 2017 (the anniversary of the Pulse Nightclub shooting in Orlando) and I'm trying to get in the spirit of celebrating Pride this year. While I am reflecting on the tragic incident that happened in my home state, I still feel sad for the loss and can't seem to get in the celebratory spirit. It's hard because I'm watching a class warfare divide and conquer the LGBT Community of Toronto. Everyone is still fighting over what happened last year at the Pride parade when Mathieu Chantelois and Pride board of directors decided to use Black Lives Matters as a political statement to show how inclusive they were by inviting the group to be grand marshals. The only thing was, Black Lives Matters knew what that move was really about…a fake olive branch to show how diverse Toronto is after World Pride. 

Apparently Mathieu had impressed the board so much with his planning and connections for the previous Pride that they gave him complete control over the 2016 celebration. Along with such moves he spent thousands of dollars on bringing a lot performers, gay celebrities and DJs from out of town to make appearances for Pride weekend while kind of marginalizing the locals and people of color. Now, for a certain demographic of the LGBT Community this was fabulous! They really felt like Toronto was a world class city after World Pride in 2015. The only problem was that by the time we got to the 2016 parade the world had changed a lot. With the rise of police brutality and racial profiling in the United States all over the news, many people of color were forming their own chapters of Black Lives Matters in solidarity. So, there was all kinds of tension bubbling under the surface when this invitation was extended to the group. Given that the organization felt like they were being used for a photo-opportunity, and it seems to me Black Lives Matters decided to use this opportunity to protest and make their voices known that people of color are not living the same existence in the LGBT Community as their counterparts…white gays.

Well, we all know the headlines of what happened at the parade and how Mathieu faked a signing of their demands to get it back moving. He bragged about it in the news that next day. One of the demands that BLM asked for was that "no uniformed police officers be on a float in the parade" since many of the people of color had been harassed and profiled by the police in their neighborhoods and on the streets of Toronto. So, if you have never been treated this way by the police this demand seemed outrageous…unheard of. But to put this in perspective….this is like the difference between living in a building with a doorman as opposed to living in a building with security guards patrolling it. These are two completely different experiences when you think of home. 

Okay…so BLM took to social media to complain and express their distaste with Mr. Chantelois' backhanded move at the parade. That's when things really started heating up. the two weeks after the parade I tried to organize a closed door meeting with the an elected official, Pride Committee, Black Lives Matters and other disgruntled local performers/DJs to discuss and hammer out a solution for this year's event. 'Cuz, it wasn't just about racial discourse…it was also about ageism and other marginalized issues in last year's festivities. Well, apparently some were too busy or going on vacation to meet. There were a couple of people who were willing to come sit at the table but mainly because tempers were so hot most ignored my calls and emails.

But to really get to the meat of the problem we have to rewind Toronto's Pride history back to 2013. I guess this would be the year that I became the pariah to Pride. That was the year that I was checking my facebook account before going to bed around 6 AM on the Monday of Pride week and saw a posting of a drag queen in blackface. All I wrote was "I don't even know what to say about this" and left it at that. I didn't even go back to the post because it was an accepted fact that this performer was known on Church Street for being offensive and pushing buttons. Plus I had already seen another performer doing numbers at Woody’s dressed as a Middle Eastern woman with a bomb belt….and this was considered to normal entertainment for the gay village. I did read a post complaining about that performance but the powers that control the hiring, firing and booking did nothing. The complaint was from a person of color and it was only one. So, it was paid no mind.

So, I got a phone call from a fellow DJ who told me to go back to the blackface post because my husband and I were being crucified in the comments. Unaware that my husband had gone an expressed his dislike for the photo while I was sleeping, I was kinda shocked to read some of the comments. Especially the ones telling me and him to go back to the US and stop trying to spread democracy across Canada with our African-American problems. Don't believe me…I have the facebook thread saved as proof and you won't believe some of the people who said these things. Even people of color were coming to this performer's defense. The funny thing is…my husband is Canadian and white.

Well, since I tend to write better than I speak I decided to write a blog pointing out that Canada isn't as innocent as it thinks it is when it comes to racism. The myth that it doesn't exist here was shattered by all the news clippings I pointed out from 2010 to the present time of the blackface incident. That went over like a lead-ballon. Folks don't like to be reminded of the misgivings  and definitely not how they are not as inclusive as they would like others to believe. The facebook posts and my blog made it to the Toronto Star.The performer who did blackface got fired from hosting the main stage for Pride that year. It was all blamed on me. I was the bad guy and the establishment I worked for even sat me down to give a light threat that my job was on the line for speaking out. They didn't do it out fear that I would go to press again, but this made many who had embraced me step back. A few people of color had my back but that number could be counted on both hands….not the POC Community at large.

And then came another racial incident where I was the DJ for Toronto's only Drag King night. It was going good…until I discovered that all the performers were white and a few did Hip Hop material with the n-word in it. Being the only person of color in the room some nights, it was really hard to watch white lesbians lip-syncing the word "nigga" to a room full of mostly white lesbians. So, I posted one night while I was working that I had decided to quit because of what I was witnessing and being subjected to. The troupe's only transgendered man ripped me a new one on facebook in a very long rant. Claiming that I was trying to control their show and content. Another ironic thing I just read the other day….a Xtra article asking why there aren't any spaces for Drag Kings in the gay village.

I bring all these things up to pose a question. I wonder what would have happened had we as a community addressed these issues back then. What if more people of color had stood up and said "Hey! Blackface has no place in our community!" What if the lesbians of color stood up and said "Hey…this isn't cool to be using that kind of language in your shows." Do you think that we as the LGBT Community could have really made everyone feel included in the conversation and a part of the solutions? I mean…if we can't acknowledge there is or was a problem how can we move forward?

Yesterday I posted a link about Philadelphia’s amended rainbow flag that has black and brown stripes added. Like with most things that are happening on social media today, there was much push back against this idea. The community that is supposed to be so inclusive has really shown their true colors about unity. Arguments that this is some power move by people of color to undermine our community shows exactly why and how we got here today. From flat out calling the idea "bullshit" to just wanting to lash out because the flag and pride celebration that catered to this demographic was being disrupted by people who should leave things the way they are. We've come so far and they are trying to tear it all down with division.

Yeah…this what some in the community actually believe.

But let's look at the other side of the story. The majority of the people of color in Toronto who joined Black Lives Matters are black and of Caribbean decent. For most, their living standard is definitely not like a Mathieu Chantelois. They don't have the luxury to run over to Montreal for the weekend whenever they feel like it. They don't have a cottage or tickets to a circuit party. I want you to take a moment and think about that for a second... If you can do these things on a semi-regular basis, you have no idea what it is like to be a gay person of color barely paying your bills on time. And just because you have a friend or two who can do these things that does not mean that everyone is in that same position. I have plenty of friends who are in better standings in life than I am and they have no clue that I'm just a poor man struggling to keep on top of things.

The bottom line is this all comes down to money. The Black Community does not have any financial power in the  mainstream LGBT Community in Toronto. Hell…there isn't even a black gay bar in this town. For many they are regulated to separate parties thrown by DJ Blackcat (and thank God for him continuing year after year to find spaces to throw these events). I bet many of the white gays don't even know who he is. But you should. He and a few others are the backbone of black events in Toronto. These are the people you should be going to when planning the big Pride events. They are the real voices of the Black Community. I'll tell you someone else who should be at that table….Kerolos Saleib. He runs a party called Arabian Knights that welcomes everyone but is themed for the Middle Eastern LGBT community. Someone from El Convento Rico should be on the committee for Pride planning. It's just basic common sense. Local people who are already working in the community and a part of it. 

Granted…there are some issues with the Black Lives Matters protest. Since they mainly have no financial power it is hard to sit at that table. "What money are you bringing to Pride?" The white gays spend money and that's just a fact. I can remember when I first got here to Toronto I started a Vogue night at a bar that no longer exists. The Ballroom kids came out for it. It was a cute little crowd. But they had no money to spend on drinks. I told one of the main voguers that he and his friends needed to start buying some drinks or that night was not going to last. He looked at me like I shot his mother. But the truth is…your dollars are like your vote in situations. The push back that Black Lives Matters received wasn't all based on racism. Some of it was financial. And although some funding comes from the City, it would be great to see everyone working together to raise some funds and build the community as a whole. This would be a solution to getting everyone involved and participating.

And although it is good to see Olivia Nuamah at the helm this year, there's been push back against her as a British woman of color. I love that she is definitely making strides to reach out to not only the marginalized but as well as those in position of authority. Her experience as a community builder and work in the non-profit / government sector is very impressive, but I still think that the board needs to be compiled of local promoters. Imagine if Fly, Crews & Tangos, El Convento, Club 120, Blyss, Woodys, Striker Sports Bar, Flash and Statlers all were at the same table making plans together to accommodate all the diversity that Toronto has to offer. Promoters like MOJO, Blackcat and Kerolos coming together to make the ultimate plan that includes everyone and features the best of our local talented performers and DJs. Would we be at this place right now? Arguing over stripes on a flag…attacking each other for any posts that we don't personally agree with or understand?

For those who are so adamantly against the change for the flag, someone posted on my facebook page "Why don't they just make their own flag?" Well…we are. We are taking the rainbow and adding black and brown stripes for the people who want to show their solidarity for the people of color who feel that they are not being represented. You don't have to carry that flag. This amendment doesn't devalue or diminish the rainbow flag that has been the symbol of our community for many decades. In fact, the original design had eight stripes and was proposed to get away from the pink triangle that was associated with the Nazi branding of homosexuals in the camps. I personally don't think the new design will catch on. Although I do think it would be brilliant because the Black and brown could also cover the Leather and Bear Communities as well. Why not? Let's get everyone on the flag. Just know that my interpretation doesn't effect yours. Just like your opinion doesn't effect mine…unless we compromise.

The LGBT Community is constantly evolving. Just look at all the new terms that have been added to make everyone feel represented. So, to allow others to wave their own flag is part of evolving. We have to grow if we are going to accommodate the future. And the words we use for ourselves are just as important. The ones we use and the ones we omit all play a part in how we communicate with each other.I mean, the omission of  a few words like "in uniform on a float" turned this town into a war zone of words. No one said "no police at the parade" in the demands of Black Lives Matters. Click-bait  media did that. And it gave an excuse for those who have been harboring feelings of exclusion to express them openly. Now it has turned into "no police in the parade" because that's what was put out there to stir up controversy. "Shut up and sit down" is basically what many feel like they are being told. Well, I think the folks who fought at Stonewall were tired of just going along with the program. Had those queens and lesbians not fought with the police would we be here trying to celebrate pride at all?

United we stand….divided we fall. We've come too far to stumble now.

I didn't write this to divide us. I wrote it to hopefully inspire all of us to start really working on a solution on how to move forward from this point on. When I look at Toronto I see such potential. On paper it looks like Toronto has everything covered and everyone accounted for, but the reality is that some of our brothers and sisters are being left behind and most are not paying attention or even care. That is the heart of the matter….realizing that what effects me actually effects you. And this is why I do as much as I can to give back in my own way. You can't just take, take, take…..you gotta give back and contribute.

So, on this day when 49 people lost their lives in a senseless shooting in Orlando, Florida I am hoping to awaken some people to the idea that we need to be united. That shooting could have happened anywhere in the world. We need to get back to being a community that cares and uplifts each other. Just a thought...

[mdye]

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Donald Trump passed along sensitive intelligence to Russia’s ambassador, endangering American assets in the exact same way that Barack Obama did when he bowed to that guy. We’re convinced that at this point, Mitch McConnell’s entire family could be eaten by bears but so long as the plan to lower the effective tax rate for corporations were on track, he’d be cool.  And it seems like Trump’s week couldn’t get any worse unless he had a photo-op with an authoritarian ruler like Recep Tayyip Erdog — oh. This is HUFFPOST HILL for Tuesday, May 16th, 2017:

THIS MIGHT BE HOW THE DEMOCRATS BLOW 2018 - Greetings from Georgetown, where everyone knows the reason Trump won in November was because there weren’t enough Beltway gatherings at hotels where a side order of foie gras butter is a reasonable $15. As such, the Center for American Progress and practically the entire Democratic establishment thought it a good idea to to have an “Ideas Conference” at the Four Seasons today. Naturally, this had us wondering whether the setting might undermine the speakers’ messages of economic inclusion (”Concentrated money and concentrated power are corrupting our democracy,” warned Elizabeth Warren; Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti said the economic woes of working people in California are “not much different from people in coal country;” “All we do is fight for working families in our country,” claimed Nancy Pelosi, adding that it was imperative that the Democratic Party better communicate its agenda to voters). “CAP’s Ideas Conference isn’t about the venue — it’s about the ideas and energy our speakers are bringing to the day,” said CAP spokeswoman Allison Preiss, who added that the venue was chosen to accommodate unexpected press interest (though the group’s 10th anniversary policy conference in 2013 was held, somewhat suspiciously, at the St. Regis). We asked Senator Jeff Merkley what he thought of the setting. “I did find it kind of ironic as I was walking here from the subway stop that we were moving into elite Georgetown for this conference,” he said. Merkley said he didn’t know enough about the planning to comment at length, but noted, approvingly, “this is a union shop.” Onward to 2018!

This is arguably the GOP’s worst news cycle of the year, and Republicans were giddy to tee off on the conference’s location: “Giving speeches to rich, white, elites inside $800 per night hotels in the toniest section of the most hated city in America only picks up where Hillary Clinton left off,” Ken Spain, the former communications director for the Republican National Campaign Committee, told us. Sam Geduldig, a leading GOP lobbyist and erstwhile aide to former House Speaker John Boehner, picked up on that theme. “I have this vision of wealthy liberals picking at a seafood tower while talking about people they know nothing about,” Geduldig said. “Maybe they can conduct a focus group of the hotel staff, while they have them in one place?”

Taking BernieLand’s temperature: “A tone-deaf luxury bootcamp for CAP-affiliated consultants, operatives, and big money donors accustomed to losing elections means the Democratic party might not get in shape ahead of the 2018 midterm elections,” People for Bernie co-founder Winnie Wong told us.

TRUMP ADMIN STILL DANCING AROUND INTEL LEAK DENIAL - Marina Fang: “President Donald Trump’s administration on Tuesday continued to provide a muddled explanation of reports that the president shared classified information with Russian officials in an Oval Office meeting last week. National security adviser H.R. McMaster, who had said on Monday that The Washington Post’s reporting was false, would not directly confirm or deny that Trump had shared classified information. ‘We don’t say what’s classified, what’s not classified,’ McMaster said at a press briefing Tuesday, before adding that ‘what the president shared was wholly appropriate.’ Trump all but confirmed that he shared classified information in a series of tweets early Tuesday morning, proclaiming that he has ‘the absolute right’ to share any information he wants.” [HuffPost]

Oh: “McMaster’s pushback came just hours after Trump himself acknowledged Tuesday morning in a pair of tweets that he had indeed revealed highly classified information to Russia — a stunning confirmation of the Washington Post story and a move that seemed to contradict his own White House team after it scrambled to deny the report.” [WaPo’s Ashley Parker]

DONALD TRUMP GAVE SENSITIVE INTEL TO THE RUSSIANS AND THE GOP IS ON IT - And by “on it,” we mean, “has the same canned response queued up.” Amanda Terkel: “Rep. Frank LoBiondo (R-N.J.) said the news was ‘deeply concerning,’ and he will raise it when the House Intelligence Committee meets. ‘I would be concerned anytime we’re discussing sensitive subjects with the Russians,’ said Sen. John Thune (R-S.D.). Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) similarly said the revelations were ‘deeply disturbing,’ while Sen. Bob Corker (R-Tenn.) told the White House to get its act together: ‘The White House has got to do something soon to bring itself under control and in order. It’s got to happen.’ House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wis.) said he wants a ‘full explanation’ from the administration of what Trump disclosed, while Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) would simply like ‘a little less drama from the White House on a lot of things so that we can focus on our agenda.’” [HuffPost]

Haircuts: Jeffrey Young (h/t Jeffrey Young), Canada’s own Todd Zwillich (h/t Tiger Beat).

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OH GOOD LORD, TRUMP MEETS WITH ERDOGAN - The whole Russian intel leak thing reminded us that Trump will also likely meet with Rodrigo Duterte at some point this year. Can’t wait! Julie Hirschfeld Davis and Mark Landler: “President Trump on Tuesday praised President Recep Tayyip Erdogan of Turkey as a stalwart ally in the battle against Islamic extremism, ignoring Mr. Erdogan’s authoritarian crackdown on his own people and brushing aside recent tensions between the United States and Turkey over how to wage the military campaign against the Islamic State. Welcoming Mr. Erdogan to the White House, Mr. Trump said, ‘Today, we face a new enemy in the fight against terrorism, and again we seek to face this threat together.’ … Mr. Erdogan praised Mr. Trump for the ‘legendary triumph’ he had achieved in the election and declared that his first meeting with the new president would be a ‘historical turn of tide’ in the Turkish-American relationship.” [NYT]

Congratulations to Jared Kushner: “Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas) took himself out of the running to be the nation’s next FBI director, informing President Donald Trump’s administration that he intends to stay in the Senate instead. In a statement released by his office on Tuesday, Cornyn, the Senate’s majority whip, said the country needs a ‘well-credentialed’ and ‘independent’ FBI director to replace James Comey, who was fired by the president last week.” [HuffPost’s Igor Bobic]

THE 11-DIMENSIONAL CHESS OF FAKE NEWS - True Detective Season 13: The first one starring Tim Allen and Kelsey Grammar and streamed on NewsmaxTV. Alex Seitz-Wald: “The Dallas-based financial adviser, Ed Butowsky, a Fox News contributor who has written articles for Breitbart News, contacted the parents of Seth Rich and urged them to hire a private investigator to look into the death of their 27-year-old son, who was shot and killed last July in what police say was a robbery gone wrong. The Rich family hired the detective who had been recommended, Rod Wheeler, a former D.C. homicide detective who is also a Fox News contributor and who last month tweeted a photo of himself at the White House captioned, ‘Doing my part to Make America Great Again!!’ Wheeler said on Monday there was evidence to support the conspiracy theories, including that Rich had been in contact with WikiLeaks before his death — prompting a quick rebuke from both the police and Rich’s family…. Police say it was a robbery gone wrong, but the death quickly became a fascination of conspiracy theorists, who alleged he was the source of DNC emails published on Wikileaks, even though U.S. intelligence agencies say they actually came from a Russian hacking operation.” [MSNBC]

Condolences to Melissa McCarthy: “As President Donald Trump is reportedly frustrated with his communications team and mulling a major staff shake-up, Fox News host Kimberly Guilfoyle signaled Tuesday that she could be leaving the president’s favorite channel for the White House. In an interview with the Bay Area News Group, Guilfoyle said she had been in conversations with the Trump administration about becoming White House press secretary or taking on another press role.” [HuffPost’s Michael Calderone]

NC GOV PROMISES EXECUTIVE ORDER ON HB2 - Pretty amazing considering the state legislature stripped Roy Cooper of pretty much every power save for the approval vanity plates. Julia Craven: “North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper (D) vowed Tuesday to issue an executive order ‘pretty soon’ to increase protections for LGBTQ people in the state. The pledge follows the state’s partial repeal of HB2, a law barring local governments from passing any anti-discrimination protections for lesbian, gay and transgender people. ‘I’m going to issue an executive order pretty soon that is comprehensive, that helps with LGBT protections and we’re going to keep working every day,’ he said during the Center for American Progress’ Ideas Conference. Cooper’s office told HuffPost they could not immediately give additional details about the order.” [HuffPost]

MAN ARRESTED FOR THREATENING CONGRESSWOMAN - McSally, to refresh your memory, represents Gabby Giffords old district. Curt Prendergast: “The FBI arrested a TUSD employee on suspicion of threatening U.S. Rep. Martha McSally. FBI agents arrested Steve Martan, 58, in connection with three messages left on the congressional office voicemail on May 2 and May 10, according to a criminal complaint filed May 12 in U.S. District Court in Tucson. Martan is a campus monitor at Miles Exploratory Learning Center in the Tucson Unified School District. He was placed on home assignment and told not to come into work as the district investigates the allegations. The voicemails contained threats to McSally, including that she should ‘be careful’ when she returns to Tucson and that her days ‘were numbered.’ He threatened to shoot her in one of the expletive-filled messages.” [Arizona Daily Star]

BECAUSE YOU’VE READ THIS FAR - Here is the flyest toddler to ever take to a moonbounce.

COMFORT FOOD

The dopest of elevators.

How to make the carbonara from “Master of None.”

Take a break from this nightmarish newscycle and relax by watching some Japanese joinery.

TWITTERAMA

Thoughts and prayers to all those GOP lawmakers concerned about Trump’s behavior

— Amanda Terkel (@aterkel) May 16, 2017

White House reaction cycle 1 - It never happened 2 - POTUS tweet 3 - It happened; NBD 4 - Nobody cares but you 5 - No more questions on this

— Brad Heath (@bradheath) May 16, 2017

Regular reminder that the entire election turned on fake anger that Clinton had mishandled unmarked material at low-level classification.

— Brian Beutler (@brianbeutler) May 15, 2017

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[itsjayyyy]

November 24, 2018 6:57 pm

Well, I think this is the first time that I’ve written some big plan in a journal and actually followed through with it. So yeah, I did do a lot of apartment hunting. I first tried my college’s (and the local art college’s shared) sublease facebook page for students. And it was hell, I mean someone would post about a room for rent for $700 and within 15 minutes, 4 people would have already said “I pm’d you!” Like damn. There’s no way I’d be able to find a place in my budget that isn’t gone already. I was about to lose hope and just look at my college’s affiliated apartments and hope for next academic year, but then I found a page, on my college’s website, that allows you to post a sublease for others. And this website was hidden so well, I’ve never seen it in my entire year of apartment hunting. A lot of them were in my budget (less than 600), and one stood out in particular, it said “my girlfriend and i are looking for a roommate for our 2/2 apt, etc etc” but then at the end it said “must be lgbt friendly because we are very much lesbians” and i was like sign me the fuck up. I messaged them on a wednesday, thursday rolled around and no reply (i was like, they have an android, maybe they just don’t check their phones as much as iphones do), but then it was friday and I gave up. I went back to the listings, messaged another couple in a 2/2, but on saturday still hadn’t gotten a response. Sunday I became a little more frantic. I messaged a third listing, waited ten (10) minutes before deciding that they also were unavailable, and messaged 3 more all at once. and then i laid on my bed and lamented about how I would never be able to move out. And then I got a reply from one of them!!! she said it was still available, roommates are two other sophomore girls at ucf, it’s unfurnished, etc. I was pretty down to take it but then, about 30 mins later, another person replied. And suddenly I remembered why, when I used Tinder, I only messaged one person at a time. The second person to answer me was in the same complex, but $100/mo cheaper. It’s like, I already got pretty far in talking to the other girl, I felt like even if it were cheaper I couldn’t go back on it. So I hit up rose and asked if she wanted to smoke. Her me and peter looked at the places online, and they both said go with the cheaper one, but another issue was how they texted. The first girl was pretty warm, using exclamation points and emojis, but the other girl was just “yes, it’s still available. when are you looking to move?” like such a cold vibe. (yes I know it’s stupid because 100 is 100 and I wouldn’t even be moving in with her, I’d be taking her room but still.) Even though both of them said go with the cheaper place, I felt that I should go with the other.

But then the next day in bio, I was asking for more details and I felt like she did seem kind of cold, like saying “ask the leasing office” and not really offering a time for me to see the place. So I texted the other girl saying I wanted to move in around early december and she became super enthusiastic. Like she sent me a good 20 pictures of the place, and even said I could come over that day to look at the place (this was last monday). I did, around 5:30 (well I came at 5:15, then left to go to the boba shop next door, then came back). She was waiting for me in the parking lot bc I got super lost (I forgot that the numbers outside of the building is the ADDRESS. I didn’t look at the listing’s address I just read the name of the complex and went there. oops.) She seemed to be south asian, like from there but have been living in america for at least a few years, she said she’s moving out because she just got married, etc. The apartment had a style that I would probably describe as oatmeal- light brown carpets, cream walls, very bland, very 2000′s low-income apartment. But hey! I love it! It’s got its own bathroom, walk-in closet, and a huge window facing the back of the property so when I want to smoke I’m gucci. (off topic: I haven’t listened to cherry bomb by nct since feb 5th. wow. That was prob around the time when ami showed it to me in chem in spring.) I told her that I would apply for the sublease the next day, and I did. Despite not having any classes or any reason to go to the east side.

They said that they check 3 things: a credit score of at least 650 (i have a 695), 3x the rent in income (rent is 535, I have 700 from work and 1000 in scholarships per month), and rental history (yeet). They said if you don’t have one of the requirements you can make up for it with either a guarantor, “like a parent cosigning” (YEET) or a larger security deposit. The girl subleasing the place said she was fine with giving up her security deposit, like she didn’t even want me to pay her for it, so I’m going to see if I can add another 300 onto it so they might let me sign. They told me they’d let me know likely on Monday or Tuesday. Also on Tuesday I’ll be going to a meeting for the pride association with a friendsgiving theme, since obvs not every gay kid can go home to a loving family. Maybe I’ll find someone there. Recently I’ve just been becoming so damn bitter about being single, ugh. Like, not bitter enough to identify as an incel, but like, bitter enough to spend all of my time self-loathing.

So I haven’t been able to tell if things have gotten better or worse between me and rose, or if it’s just my period coming up that is making me act like this. In one of the low points of self-loathing (I’m still single, I have no friends, rose is the golden child in the family while I’m hated, rose’s stupid boyfriend comes over for dinner 6 days a week when I could NEVER be afforded that luxury, I’m ugly, etc), I was isolating myself in my room, scrolling down the homepage of reddit, when I saw a post on r/lgbt that was cross-posted from r/gaming or something similar. It said “in the new pokemon games, professor oak doesn’t ask if you’re a girl or a boy, he just says “what do you look like” with different options. Before I could be like “yea fuck the gender binary” i had to be like “there are new pokemon games????” And I looked it up and there were. But it was on the switch, not the 3ds. I messaged rose about it, but she was off on her 6-month anniversary with peter so she wasn’t super interested (she did say “oh don’t buy it” bc it was 350). Let me tell you, when you feel like nobody loves you, the one sure source of love is a credit card with a $2,500 line. I got out of bed, got dressed, and went to target and bought a switch, with the new game. And I played it all night. It was better than any other pokemon game, because it was a revamp of the original game, and I grew up playing pokemon leafgreen, the first revamp of the original. I was reliving my childhood. Of course, when I posted it on my story, rose messaged me, saying “did you seriously buy it?” Like yes, I seriously bought it, because my parents never bought me anything other than the legal bare minimum as a kid, because unlike rose, I have disposable income and aren’t burdened with creditors, because I want something fun to occupy the time so I don’t spend every waking minute wanting to kill myself. Is that so bad, that I spent $350 on something that gave me more happiness than anyone else ever would?

Another thing that pissed me off: after I said yea I bought it, her first reaction was “are there two player games?” when I said it’s mine, I bought it, she said “what if I bought one too?” Why can’t I ever have something to myself? She has her own life, her own personality, her own friends, but whenever I have something, she HAS to have it too, or at least put her hands all over it. I buy a video game? She has to play it too. I listen to a new band? She has to listen to them too. I say I’m queer? She cheats on her (now ex) boyfriend with a girl to experiment and say she’s 1% bi (and then promptly never touches a girl again. and doesn’t come to pride. and doesn’t participate at all in anything related to the lgbt community.) It never ends, she yanks every interest out of my hand, parades it around, before tossing it back to me, all crumpled up and gross.

Two days after I bought it, I had begun to stabilize. Was my mood improving because of pokemon, or because I’m getting closer to my period and my hormones are balancing out? The world may never know. 

My mom finally enrolled in healthcare. One day, I told rose that I wanted to go hang with peter, and she said “after dinner.” I was like, I literally want to avoid dinner because of our parents, that’s the point of us hanging out, they don’t love me. And she, being the centrist she is, gave her whole “yes they do love you, at least mom” spiel, at which point I brought up that neither of us have healthcare. From when I was 12 all the way to adulthood, everyone in my family knew that I needed braces, not just for cosmetic reasons but medical too. And every time I asked my parents, they’d say they would be getting around to it soon. Which is the exact same rhetoric I heard about my healthcare, now as an adult. But I knew that mom had already enrolled dad in his healthcare, so why are rose and I still left in the dark? After saying this, rose spent the next week twisting mom’s arm, and since everyone loves rose, she got around to it. It’s gonna be 134 per month, but I’m paying for it via scholarship in january. I still haven’t told my parents I plan on moving out, I probably won’t until I get approved for sure. Just gotta wait for Monday/Tuesday/whenever.

So, I’m being stalked. (okay i feel like this update is jumping all over the place, but I’m just trying to go from one complete topic to another, not chonologically bc then I’d miss something.) One day I was walking from the library to visual arts, when I saw out of my periphery walking towards me was what looked like savon. We didn’t make eye contact, and right then peter replied to our game of cup pong so I looked down at my phone as I responded with my move. As I walked past him, I heard him mumbling something to himself (something he often did if he wanted to get my attention without making it look like he was trying to get my attention). I felt like I wanted to die, just being within a 10 foot radius of him. 

And it got worse. The next time I had to go to that class (maybe monday? idk), I didn’t see him on the sidewalk, but as I walked into the building through one door I saw him going out the other door, as in the one next to me. He was wearing sunglasses (indoors?) and carrying one of those first-year engineering student boxes, and looking in my direction. I was looking at the door, of course. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out his m.o.- stand around the entrance of the building (that he saw me go in at 2:25 pm on a mwf day), where the windows are tinted, so he would be able to see me going in but I wouldn’t be able to see him inside. After class I hid in the bathroom for 45 minutes, because I was so afraid that he was waiting outside of the building or something. UGH. why do I have to live in fear on my own damn campus. Luckily, I only have one more class meeting in that room for this semester, and I’m probably gonna come a whole lot earlier, and from the other entrance. What scares me is that I posted my schedule on snap, and spriley saw it. I mean, it was at an angle and kind of blurry (caption was more important, just me bitching about how I’m gonna be on campus from 7am to 7pm). And I don’t think that spriley would take the time to watch my 6-second story a million times to copy down the classrooms and times. He just outright doesn’t like me, nothing like savon’s weird obsession with me, a girl he knew in high school but otherwise hasn’t spoken to in almost 2 years. I’m calling it now, if anyone shoots up ucf, it’s gonna be savon.

So let’s lighten the subject a little: we’re almost to the end of the semster!!!! It’s this week, then finals week, then that’s it. And as a matter of fact, this week is the online exam for sociology, and the roundtable discussion for composition (and the video I’m gonna knock out real quick, so I’ll be done soon.) My last three exams are all going to be done on Wednesday and Thursday of finals week. So Monday and Tuesday I don’t have any classes, so those are the days that I’m looking at moving out on. It’s lit.

Last week I posted on my snap how someone parked a limebike in a motorcycle parking spot, and heather messaged me saying “girl where have you been.” I mean, she made no attempt to contact me for the last month, but whatever we’re living our own lives. I told her I was focusing on school and stuff, and she said we should meet up. I was like yea sure, but the next day she didn’t show lol. She later said she was taking an exam and it was way longer than she expected, but we never made plans to meet up again. I guess that’s just the way most high school friendships go.

Okay I think I’m gonna end the update here, I’ve covered almost everything important. Tomorrow, Sunday, I work at cinnabon closing 2-9. I’m gonna grind to finish this econ homework tonight, then monday I’m gonna start rehearsing my presentation for comp or whatever. Start studying for finals, maybe take my final in sociology, ya know, just play it by ear.

(wow it’s 8:46 now. this update almost took 2 hours.)

[newestbalance]

Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist

BEIJING — Students and professors in China denounced a leading university on Tuesday for trying to silence activism about sexual harassment, a rare act of defiance that is testing the limits of the country’s fledgling #MeToo movement.

The institution, Peking University in Beijing, remains in an uproar after a student activist said that an instructor accompanied by the student’s mother had visited her dormitory at 1 a.m. Monday to warn her against continuing to speak out about a 20-year-old rape case that had embarrassed the university.

In a letter that was widely shared online, the activist, Yue Xin, said that the university had frightened her mother so much that she had threatened to kill herself.

The backlash against the university was swift and fierce. In an unusually bold move, a group of students posted banners accusing the institution of betraying its values, saying that Ms. Yue was upholding the spirit of the May 4 movement of 1919, a patriotic uprising led by students.

“What exactly do you fear?” asked the banners, titled “In Solidarity with Our Brave Yue Xin.” They were quickly taken down, and Ms. Yue’s letter and name were censored on Chinese social media.

The debate has pitted students and professors against a government that appears increasingly intolerant of dissent. President Xi Jinping, who rose to power in 2012, has discouraged the propagation of Western influence at universities and has urged stricter oversight of classes and professors.

As the #MeToo movement has spread on Chinese campuses, officials have reacted cautiously, with some describing it as a foreign campaign with no place in China. Still, students have continued to call for better protections against harassment and assault, and many have taken to social media to report cases of misbehavior involving professors.

On Tuesday, students continued to share Ms. Yue’s letter online, with some using the public ledger underlying Bitcoin transactions to evade censorship.

In the letter, Ms. Yue spoke about her attempts, along with those of seven other students, to press the university to release records pertaining to a 1998 assault case involving the professor Shen Yang. A student at the time, Gao Yan, told friends and relatives that she had been raped by Mr. Shen. She killed herself soon after.

The case drew wide attention this month when friends of Ms. Gao, inspired by the #MeToo movement, posted remembrances online. As millions learned of Ms. Gao’s story and anger mounted, Peking University revealed that it had given a warning to Mr. Shen over suspicion of inappropriate behavior after the police investigated the case in 1998.

Mr. Shen, now a professor at another Chinese university, has denied the accusations.

Ms. Yue said in her letter that administrators had threatened to block her graduation and had forced her to delete documents related to her investigation of the 1998 case.

Gao Yan, a young woman whose suicide two decades ago has ignited a debate about sexual harassment in China.

Peking University’s heavy-handed attempts to silence discussion of the case drew widespread rebuke this week.

Some students vowed to boycott the university’s 120th anniversary celebration in May with the hashtag #NotMyAnniversary.

“Most people are just shocked and confused,” said one student, who gave his name as Martin Shi. “The political atmosphere is getting tense both inside and outside campus.”

Yuan Zeng, a 2006 graduate of the university, said its efforts to block discussion of sexual harassment were “stupid and outrageous.”

“I’m happy to see students like Yue Xin are courageously fighting for what they believe is right,” said Ms. Zeng, now a media scholar in Hong Kong.

Peking University did not answer calls seeking comment on Tuesday. A statement on Monday by the foreign languages school, where Ms. Yue is a student, said the university “respects the basic rights of each student.”

As outrage over the treatment of Ms. Yue has grown, commentators have urged the university to work toward reconciliation.

People’s Daily, the Communist Party’s main newspaper, published an online commentary on Tuesday saying that “schools and students are not antagonists,” and adding that universities should seek to better understand the thoughts and actions of young people.

He Weifang, an outspoken law professor at Peking University, said that many faculty members were upset by the university’s treatment of Ms. Yue, a senior who has campaigned against discrimination of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender students.

Several other students at the university who have pushed for greater transparency in sexual harassment cases have also reported being intimidated by administrators.

Mr. He said that Peking University, as one of China’s most prestigious institutions, had an obligation to be truthful and transparent.

���The students’ demands for truth show they are socially responsible,” he said. “The university should apologize for not only what happened years ago but also what happened just now.”

Follow Javier C. Hernández on Twitter: @HernandezJavier. For more coverage of women and gender issues, sign up for Gender Letter, a new newsletter.

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A9 of the New York edition with the headline: Activism At University Poses a Test For China. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

The post Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist appeared first on World The News.

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[dani-qrt]

Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist

BEIJING — Students and professors in China denounced a leading university on Tuesday for trying to silence activism about sexual harassment, a rare act of defiance that is testing the limits of the country’s fledgling #MeToo movement.

The institution, Peking University in Beijing, remains in an uproar after a student activist said that an instructor accompanied by the student’s mother had visited her dormitory at 1 a.m. Monday to warn her against continuing to speak out about a 20-year-old rape case that had embarrassed the university.

In a letter that was widely shared online, the activist, Yue Xin, said that the university had frightened her mother so much that she had threatened to kill herself.

The backlash against the university was swift and fierce. In an unusually bold move, a group of students posted banners accusing the institution of betraying its values, saying that Ms. Yue was upholding the spirit of the May 4 movement of 1919, a patriotic uprising led by students.

“What exactly do you fear?” asked the banners, titled “In Solidarity with Our Brave Yue Xin.” They were quickly taken down, and Ms. Yue’s letter and name were censored on Chinese social media.

The debate has pitted students and professors against a government that appears increasingly intolerant of dissent. President Xi Jinping, who rose to power in 2012, has discouraged the propagation of Western influence at universities and has urged stricter oversight of classes and professors.

As the #MeToo movement has spread on Chinese campuses, officials have reacted cautiously, with some describing it as a foreign campaign with no place in China. Still, students have continued to call for better protections against harassment and assault, and many have taken to social media to report cases of misbehavior involving professors.

On Tuesday, students continued to share Ms. Yue’s letter online, with some using the public ledger underlying Bitcoin transactions to evade censorship.

In the letter, Ms. Yue spoke about her attempts, along with those of seven other students, to press the university to release records pertaining to a 1998 assault case involving the professor Shen Yang. A student at the time, Gao Yan, told friends and relatives that she had been raped by Mr. Shen. She killed herself soon after.

The case drew wide attention this month when friends of Ms. Gao, inspired by the #MeToo movement, posted remembrances online. As millions learned of Ms. Gao’s story and anger mounted, Peking University revealed that it had given a warning to Mr. Shen over suspicion of inappropriate behavior after the police investigated the case in 1998.

Mr. Shen, now a professor at another Chinese university, has denied the accusations.

Ms. Yue said in her letter that administrators had threatened to block her graduation and had forced her to delete documents related to her investigation of the 1998 case.

Gao Yan, a young woman whose suicide two decades ago has ignited a debate about sexual harassment in China.

Peking University’s heavy-handed attempts to silence discussion of the case drew widespread rebuke this week.

Some students vowed to boycott the university’s 120th anniversary celebration in May with the hashtag #NotMyAnniversary.

“Most people are just shocked and confused,” said one student, who gave his name as Martin Shi. “The political atmosphere is getting tense both inside and outside campus.”

Yuan Zeng, a 2006 graduate of the university, said its efforts to block discussion of sexual harassment were “stupid and outrageous.”

“I’m happy to see students like Yue Xin are courageously fighting for what they believe is right,” said Ms. Zeng, now a media scholar in Hong Kong.

Peking University did not answer calls seeking comment on Tuesday. A statement on Monday by the foreign languages school, where Ms. Yue is a student, said the university “respects the basic rights of each student.”

As outrage over the treatment of Ms. Yue has grown, commentators have urged the university to work toward reconciliation.

People’s Daily, the Communist Party’s main newspaper, published an online commentary on Tuesday saying that “schools and students are not antagonists,” and adding that universities should seek to better understand the thoughts and actions of young people.

He Weifang, an outspoken law professor at Peking University, said that many faculty members were upset by the university’s treatment of Ms. Yue, a senior who has campaigned against discrimination of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender students.

Several other students at the university who have pushed for greater transparency in sexual harassment cases have also reported being intimidated by administrators.

Mr. He said that Peking University, as one of China’s most prestigious institutions, had an obligation to be truthful and transparent.

“The students’ demands for truth show they are socially responsible,” he said. “The university should apologize for not only what happened years ago but also what happened just now.”

Follow Javier C. Hernández on Twitter: @HernandezJavier. For more coverage of women and gender issues, sign up for Gender Letter, a new newsletter.

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A9 of the New York edition with the headline: Activism At University Poses a Test For China. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

The post Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Jrv4E0 via Online News

[party-hard-or-die]

Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist

BEIJING — Students and professors in China denounced a leading university on Tuesday for trying to silence activism about sexual harassment, a rare act of defiance that is testing the limits of the country’s fledgling #MeToo movement.

The institution, Peking University in Beijing, remains in an uproar after a student activist said that an instructor accompanied by the student’s mother had visited her dormitory at 1 a.m. Monday to warn her against continuing to speak out about a 20-year-old rape case that had embarrassed the university.

In a letter that was widely shared online, the activist, Yue Xin, said that the university had frightened her mother so much that she had threatened to kill herself.

The backlash against the university was swift and fierce. In an unusually bold move, a group of students posted banners accusing the institution of betraying its values, saying that Ms. Yue was upholding the spirit of the May 4 movement of 1919, a patriotic uprising led by students.

“What exactly do you fear?” asked the banners, titled “In Solidarity with Our Brave Yue Xin.” They were quickly taken down, and Ms. Yue’s letter and name were censored on Chinese social media.

The debate has pitted students and professors against a government that appears increasingly intolerant of dissent. President Xi Jinping, who rose to power in 2012, has discouraged the propagation of Western influence at universities and has urged stricter oversight of classes and professors.

As the #MeToo movement has spread on Chinese campuses, officials have reacted cautiously, with some describing it as a foreign campaign with no place in China. Still, students have continued to call for better protections against harassment and assault, and many have taken to social media to report cases of misbehavior involving professors.

On Tuesday, students continued to share Ms. Yue’s letter online, with some using the public ledger underlying Bitcoin transactions to evade censorship.

In the letter, Ms. Yue spoke about her attempts, along with those of seven other students, to press the university to release records pertaining to a 1998 assault case involving the professor Shen Yang. A student at the time, Gao Yan, told friends and relatives that she had been raped by Mr. Shen. She killed herself soon after.

The case drew wide attention this month when friends of Ms. Gao, inspired by the #MeToo movement, posted remembrances online. As millions learned of Ms. Gao’s story and anger mounted, Peking University revealed that it had given a warning to Mr. Shen over suspicion of inappropriate behavior after the police investigated the case in 1998.

Mr. Shen, now a professor at another Chinese university, has denied the accusations.

Ms. Yue said in her letter that administrators had threatened to block her graduation and had forced her to delete documents related to her investigation of the 1998 case.

Gao Yan, a young woman whose suicide two decades ago has ignited a debate about sexual harassment in China.

Peking University’s heavy-handed attempts to silence discussion of the case drew widespread rebuke this week.

Some students vowed to boycott the university’s 120th anniversary celebration in May with the hashtag #NotMyAnniversary.

“Most people are just shocked and confused,” said one student, who gave his name as Martin Shi. “The political atmosphere is getting tense both inside and outside campus.”

Yuan Zeng, a 2006 graduate of the university, said its efforts to block discussion of sexual harassment were “stupid and outrageous.”

“I’m happy to see students like Yue Xin are courageously fighting for what they believe is right,” said Ms. Zeng, now a media scholar in Hong Kong.

Peking University did not answer calls seeking comment on Tuesday. A statement on Monday by the foreign languages school, where Ms. Yue is a student, said the university “respects the basic rights of each student.”

As outrage over the treatment of Ms. Yue has grown, commentators have urged the university to work toward reconciliation.

People’s Daily, the Communist Party’s main newspaper, published an online commentary on Tuesday saying that “schools and students are not antagonists,” and adding that universities should seek to better understand the thoughts and actions of young people.

He Weifang, an outspoken law professor at Peking University, said that many faculty members were upset by the university’s treatment of Ms. Yue, a senior who has campaigned against discrimination of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender students.

Several other students at the university who have pushed for greater transparency in sexual harassment cases have also reported being intimidated by administrators.

Mr. He said that Peking University, as one of China’s most prestigious institutions, had an obligation to be truthful and transparent.

“The students’ demands for truth show they are socially responsible,” he said. “The university should apologize for not only what happened years ago but also what happened just now.”

Follow Javier C. Hernández on Twitter: @HernandezJavier. For more coverage of women and gender issues, sign up for Gender Letter, a new newsletter.

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A9 of the New York edition with the headline: Activism At University Poses a Test For China. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

The post Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2Jrv4E0 via Breaking News

[dragnews]

Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist

BEIJING — Students and professors in China denounced a leading university on Tuesday for trying to silence activism about sexual harassment, a rare act of defiance that is testing the limits of the country’s fledgling #MeToo movement.

The institution, Peking University in Beijing, remains in an uproar after a student activist said that an instructor accompanied by the student’s mother had visited her dormitory at 1 a.m. Monday to warn her against continuing to speak out about a 20-year-old rape case that had embarrassed the university.

In a letter that was widely shared online, the activist, Yue Xin, said that the university had frightened her mother so much that she had threatened to kill herself.

The backlash against the university was swift and fierce. In an unusually bold move, a group of students posted banners accusing the institution of betraying its values, saying that Ms. Yue was upholding the spirit of the May 4 movement of 1919, a patriotic uprising led by students.

“What exactly do you fear?” asked the banners, titled “In Solidarity with Our Brave Yue Xin.” They were quickly taken down, and Ms. Yue’s letter and name were censored on Chinese social media.

The debate has pitted students and professors against a government that appears increasingly intolerant of dissent. President Xi Jinping, who rose to power in 2012, has discouraged the propagation of Western influence at universities and has urged stricter oversight of classes and professors.

As the #MeToo movement has spread on Chinese campuses, officials have reacted cautiously, with some describing it as a foreign campaign with no place in China. Still, students have continued to call for better protections against harassment and assault, and many have taken to social media to report cases of misbehavior involving professors.

On Tuesday, students continued to share Ms. Yue’s letter online, with some using the public ledger underlying Bitcoin transactions to evade censorship.

In the letter, Ms. Yue spoke about her attempts, along with those of seven other students, to press the university to release records pertaining to a 1998 assault case involving the professor Shen Yang. A student at the time, Gao Yan, told friends and relatives that she had been raped by Mr. Shen. She killed herself soon after.

The case drew wide attention this month when friends of Ms. Gao, inspired by the #MeToo movement, posted remembrances online. As millions learned of Ms. Gao’s story and anger mounted, Peking University revealed that it had given a warning to Mr. Shen over suspicion of inappropriate behavior after the police investigated the case in 1998.

Mr. Shen, now a professor at another Chinese university, has denied the accusations.

Ms. Yue said in her letter that administrators had threatened to block her graduation and had forced her to delete documents related to her investigation of the 1998 case.

Gao Yan, a young woman whose suicide two decades ago has ignited a debate about sexual harassment in China.

Peking University’s heavy-handed attempts to silence discussion of the case drew widespread rebuke this week.

Some students vowed to boycott the university’s 120th anniversary celebration in May with the hashtag #NotMyAnniversary.

“Most people are just shocked and confused,” said one student, who gave his name as Martin Shi. “The political atmosphere is getting tense both inside and outside campus.”

Yuan Zeng, a 2006 graduate of the university, said its efforts to block discussion of sexual harassment were “stupid and outrageous.”

“I’m happy to see students like Yue Xin are courageously fighting for what they believe is right,” said Ms. Zeng, now a media scholar in Hong Kong.

Peking University did not answer calls seeking comment on Tuesday. A statement on Monday by the foreign languages school, where Ms. Yue is a student, said the university “respects the basic rights of each student.”

As outrage over the treatment of Ms. Yue has grown, commentators have urged the university to work toward reconciliation.

People’s Daily, the Communist Party’s main newspaper, published an online commentary on Tuesday saying that “schools and students are not antagonists,” and adding that universities should seek to better understand the thoughts and actions of young people.

He Weifang, an outspoken law professor at Peking University, said that many faculty members were upset by the university’s treatment of Ms. Yue, a senior who has campaigned against discrimination of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender students.

Several other students at the university who have pushed for greater transparency in sexual harassment cases have also reported being intimidated by administrators.

Mr. He said that Peking University, as one of China’s most prestigious institutions, had an obligation to be truthful and transparent.

“The students’ demands for truth show they are socially responsible,” he said. “The university should apologize for not only what happened years ago but also what happened just now.”

Follow Javier C. Hernández on Twitter: @HernandezJavier. For more coverage of women and gender issues, sign up for Gender Letter, a new newsletter.

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A9 of the New York edition with the headline: Activism At University Poses a Test For China. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

The post Students Defiant as Chinese University Warns #MeToo Activist appeared first on World The News.

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[gossipnetwork-blog]

ACLU's Trans Military Ban Lawsuit: What You Need to Know

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/aclus-trans-military-ban-lawsuit-what-you-need-to-know/

ACLU's Trans Military Ban Lawsuit: What You Need to Know

On Monday, the American Civil Liberties Union of Maryland filed a lawsuit, Stone v. Trump in a federal court in Baltimore, accusing the administration of violating the “constitutional guarantees of equal protection and substantive due process,” ACLU staff attorney Chase Strangio tells Rolling Stone.

The lawsuit came three days after Donald Trump signed a memo directing the military to return to a policy, which the Obama administration had lifted last year, banning openly transgender individuals to join the armed forces. White House officials have said they do not comment on pending litigation.

Three weeks ago, Trump addressed his motivations behind the trans ban at his golf club in New Jersey by telling reporters that he has “great respect for the community,” but “it’s been a very difficult situation and I think I’m doing a lot of people a favor by coming out and just saying it,” and preventing trans service members from getting the healthcare they need.

“As you know, it’s been a very complicated issue for the military, it’s been a very confusing issue for the military, and I think I’m doing the military a great favor,” Trump continued.

It was on the morning of July 26th, the 69th anniversary of President Harry Truman signing an executive order to desegregate the American armed forces, when Trump thumbed a series of tweets, saying that the U.S. government “will not accept or allow transgender individuals to serve in any capacity in the U.S. military.”

The six transgender service members involved in the lawsuit reached out to the ACLU after last month’s tweets. “When the president declared this new policy, these individuals were terrified for their well-being and careers,” Strangio says. “They feared the policy would cancel their health care procedures, their reenlistment contracts, and loss of other benefits.”

As the debate over banning transgender individuals in the military continues, Rolling Stone has prepared a breakdown of the ACLU lawsuit and how it proposes to protect the rights of men and women who are transgender.

How did we get here? Last year, former Defense Secretary Ashton B. Carter, under the Obama administration, lifted restrictions on transgender service members. The military was set to begin enlisting transgender people on July 1st, but current Defense Secretary Jim Mattis delayed the decision for six months to “evaluate more carefully the impact of such ascensions on readiness and lethality.” Mattis noted the delay did not “presuppose the outcome of the review,” which was scheduled for completion by December 1st.

Trump, who avoided the Vietnam draft with a diagnosis of bone spurs in his heels, leapfrogged the review when he tweeted that the military “cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender in the military would entail.” His words contradicted his campaign promise to fight for LGBT Americans and blindsided a vacationing Mattis. The statement nearly killed a $790 billion defense spending bill that involved taxpayers funding hormone therapy and gender-reassignment surgery for transgender troops. (The House eventually approved the spending package that included $658 billion for the Pentagon and $1.57 billion to building the U.S.-Mexico border wall, but sidelined an amendment dealing with medical treatment related to gender transition.)

In response, several Republican senators – including former POW John McCain – joined Democrats to support transgender people in the military; a group of fifty-six retired generals and admirals said that banning would “degrade military readiness;” the first openly gay Army Secretary Eric Fanning told Rolling Stone the attempt at policy-by-tweet “was taking a class of people who are serving admirably in the military today and targeting them;” retired Staff Sergeant Shane Ortega, the first openly transgender Army soldier, said the president’s “level of cognitive dissonance is so great, that we as the people have to take some sort of formidable action;” Samantha Bee, Seth Myers and James Corden ridiculed the ban on late night TV; and Arcade Fire told a Brooklyn crowd the ban was “a fucking wrong call.” Even the daughter of Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke, Jennifer Detlefsen, who like her father is a Navy veteran, tweeted: “This veteran says sit down and shut the fuck up, you know-nothing, never-served piece of shit.”

Trump’s tweets also flustered Marine General Joseph Dunford, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who wrote a note to senior military personnel, saying, “There will be no modifications to the current policy until the president’s direction has been received by the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary has issued implementation guidance.”

What is the trans ban? In his Presidential Memorandum, Trump said that the Obama Administration “failed to identify a sufficient basis to conclude that terminating the Departments’ longstanding policy and practice would not hinder military effectiveness and lethality, disrupt unit cohesion, or tax military resources.” He added that more study was needed to make sure last year’s policy change “would not have those negative effects.”

Trump also gave Mattis the authority to decide the fate of the thousands of openly transgender service members already serving. Mattis has six months to implement the directive. But the distribution of power is only half-served, since Trump directs transgender individuals banned from joining the military unless Mattis comes up with “a recommendation to the contrary that I find convincing.”

Meanwhile, Trump is directing to “halt all use of DoD or DHS resources to fund sex reassignment surgical procedures for military personnel,” unless someone has already started transitioning.

Shane Ortega, the first openly trans Army soldier, said that Trump’s “level of cognitive dissonance is so great, that we as the people have to take some sort of formidable action.” Greg Doherty/Getty Images

What is the ACLU lawsuit?

For the past month, since Trump’s tweets, the ACLU has been working with Covington & Burling LLP, an international law firm headquartered in Washington D.C., to sue the president on the grounds of violating equal protection and due process. The 39-page lawsuit lists plaintiffs as President Donald J. Trump, Defense Secretary Jim Mattis, Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy, Navy Secretary Richard Spencer and Air Force Secretary Heather Wilson.

In the lawsuit, the ACLU says that the Pentagon concluded last year that “there was no basis for the military to exclude men and women who are transgender from openly serving their country,” aside from standard fitness requirements. The ACLU cites a study by Pentagon-commissioned 2016 RAND Corporation, under Carter, which found that there would be “minimal” readiness impacts from allowing transgender individuals to serve openly in the military and that health care costs would represent “an exceedingly small proportion” of overall Department of Defense health care costs, between 0.04 to 0.13 percent, or $2.4 million and $8.4 million a year. For comparison, the ACLU says the military spends ten times as much on erectile dysfunction medicines, at $84 million.

The ACLU contends that Trump’s “actual motivations were purely political, reflecting a desire to accommodate legislators and advisers who bear animus and moral disapproval toward men and women who are transgender, with a goal of gaining votes for a spending bill that included money to build a border wall with Mexico.”

Strangio questions Trump’s judgement, the same acumen to determine whether Mattis’ recommendations get approved. The RAND study shows 2,000 to 11,000 active-duty transgender service members, while other groups like the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law estimate that transgender people make up 8,800 active members of the military.

As Strangio tells it, Trump has “almost unilaterally, without consulting with military experts, acted cruelly and counter to everything we know about evidence-based military readiness, unit cohesion, and medical science.”

Is anyone else taking legal action over this?  Earlier this month, the National Center for Lesbian Rights and GLBTQ Legal Advocates & Defenders, on behalf of five transgender service members, filed lawsuits in federal court in the District of Columbia claiming that the ban is a violation of equal protection and due process.

On Monday, Lamdba Legal and OutServe-SLDN filed a lawsuit in federal court in Seattle, on behalf of two transgender people who want to join in the military, a transgender woman in the Army, the Human Rights Campaign, and the Gender Justice League. The lawsuit claims the violation of equal protection and due process, but also addresses violation of free speech protections.

The three lawsuits aim to convince federal courts to stop the trans ban from taking effect.

The same wish holds true for the ACLU, which represents plaintiffs Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Brock Stone, an anonymous Air Force senior airman, Airman 1st Class Seven Ero George, Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Teagan Gilbert, Army Staff Sgt. Kate Cole, and Marine Corps Technical Sgt. Tommie Parker.

Stone is a 34-year-old man, who served 11 years in the Navy and was deployed in Afghanistan for nine-months. Since July, Stone has been based in Fort Meade in Maryland, where he undergoes hormone therapy as part of his gender transition with hopes of completing surgery next year. Now, Stone faces the loss of his medical procedure, his career, and the chances at retirement benefits.

“The transgender ban is a slap in the face to individuals who have dedicated their lives to service,” Strangio says. “Our hope is that transgender individuals can continue to serve in the armed forces. In the interim, we want to show the president that we won’t go down without a fight and we want to show service members that we won’t stop fighting for them.”

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[auroraaboraaborealis]

LOS ANGELES — It’s one of Hollywood’s most secretive and unusual jobs: Brian Cullinan, a partner at the accounting firm PwC, and a colleague are tasked with making sure the statuettes at the annual Academy Awards are correctly distributed. He stands in the wings of the Dolby Theater here in a tuxedo and pulls sealed envelopes out of a briefcase, giving the correct one to presenters as they walk onto the stage.

This is the one night a year when the button-down PwC really gets to shine. The firm’s chief executive sits with stars in the audience. Mr. Cullinan walks the red carpet, where reporters often say he resembles Matt Damon. He told one TV crew that he had no nerves. “We’ve done this a few times,” he said before Sunday night’s show, “and we prepare a lot.” He was so at ease, he even found time to tweet from backstage about Emma Stone as the show neared its climax.

Whoops.

In an epic bungle before 33 million viewers — one that could get his company fired as the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ accountant after 83 years and which robbed “Moonlight,” an all-black, gay-themed film, of its proper moment of celebration — Mr. Cullinan caused the show-business musical “La La Land” to be mistakenly named best picture at the 89th Academy Awards. PwC’s chief executive watched the scene from the third row.

At the climactic moment backstage, a crew member shouted “Oh my God” as the jubilant producers of “La La Land” thanked their families. “He got the wrong envelope!”

“He” was Warren Beatty, who, along with Faye Dunaway, presented the final award of the night. Mr. Beatty opened the envelope and, after some hesitation, handed it to Ms. Dunaway. She said that “La La Land,” about young California dreamers, was the winner. The crowd erupted in applause, and the “La La Land” team rushed the stage.

Why did it take minutes to fix the error? “PwC sounded the alarm, but not right away,” Gary Natoli, the telecast’s stage manager, said in a text message. “It wasn’t until just before I jumped onstage that it was confirmed by both Brian and Martha as the winner being incorrect.” Martha L. Ruiz, a PwC colleague of Mr. Cullinan’s who stood on the opposite side of the stage, and Mr. Cullinan apparently needed to find each other backstage to confer before speaking up.

It was one of the most surprising reversals in Oscar history, as human error combined with live television to powerful, jaw-dropping effect. It also warped and dampened the euphoria of film executives and artists who had spent years working on the two movies. And for the academy, which had been criticized last year for failing to nominate any minority actors for the second consecutive year, there was a missed moment: Instead of a proper celebration of “Moonlight,” there was a televised scene of confusion, disbelief and astonishment.

Backstage, Michael De Luca and Jennifer Todd, the telecast’s producers, were sitting at their monitors, Diet Cokes in hand. They were under the impression that the show was a wrap. But the scene quickly became chaotic, as it emerged that the winner was, in fact, “Moonlight,” a tender drama about a young, black man coming to terms with his homosexuality.

“I’m holding the envelope and the award, and I had just given my speech, and there are people on the stage with headsets and I thought, ‘That doesn’t seem right,’” Jordan Horowitz, a “La La Land” producer, recalled.

Exactly what happened in the moments leading up to the mistaken announcement was still being sorted out on Monday, but pieces of the story began falling into place. Mr. Cullinan — perhaps distracted by his Twitter feed — handed Mr. Beatty an envelope containing the name of the best actress winner, an award that had already been given to Ms. Stone of “La La Land.” The next seven humiliating minutes would find Ms. Dunaway blurting out the wrong best picture winner, the A-list audience gasping and slack-jawed and a dance onstage as “La La Land” producers gracefully made way for the “Moonlight” team.

“I haven’t received any formal explanation,” Marc Platt, another member of the “La La Land” producing team, said on Monday afternoon. “There may have been disappointment in the moment, tremendous disappointment, but the good news is that I feel a unity in our community today. ‘Moonlight’ won best picture. But many voices in many kinds of films were honored.”

This account of the awards show’s frantic final moments was based on interviews with producers of both “La La Land” and “Moonlight”; academy officials; crew members for the telecast; and PwC executives. Some provided information on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly.

An academy spokeswoman directed queries to PwC. Another academy official said the organization had initiated a review of the backstage process and of the group’s association going forward with the accounting firm, which extends beyond balloting for the Oscars.

“I read the card that was in the envelope,” Mr. Beatty told reporters on his way to the Governors Ball, a post-show party. “I thought, ‘This is very strange because it says best actress on the card.’ And I felt that maybe there was some sort of misprint.” Pressed further, he said, “That’s all I have to say on the subject.” Ms. Dunaway declined to comment.

For its part, PwC expressed remorse. “We are owning this mistake,” said Tim Ryan, the United States chairman of PwC. “I’ve reached out to the academy. I’ve shared my personal apology, the firm’s apology, and I’ve begun to talk to them about things we can do to make it right.”

The firm declined to make Mr. Cullinan available for an interview, but it later said that once he mistakenly handed out the wrong envelope, “protocols for correcting it were not followed through quickly enough by Mr. Cullinan or his partner.”

In keeping with past practice, PwC prepared two identical sets of sealed envelopes before the Oscars show. Ms. Ruiz kept a complete set on one side of the stage, while Mr. Cullinan had another set on the other.

It was Ms. Ruiz who handed the best actress envelope to Leonardo DiCaprio, who presented the award to Ms. Stone. (As they walked off the stage, Mr. DiCaprio handed her the envelope and said, “Make sure you keep this.”)

Next up: Mr. Beatty and Ms. Dunaway, reuniting to mark the 50th anniversary of “Bonnie and Clyde” and announce the best picture winner.

It was then that Mr. Cullinan handed Mr. Beatty the spare best-actress envelope instead of the best-picture envelope. What led to the mistake by Mr. Cullinan was not known, but it could have to do with the envelope’s design. The academy used a new envelope this year, featuring red paper with gold outside lettering that specifies the award inside. That may have made the outside of the envelopes more difficult to read than last year’s, which featured gold paper and red lettering.

Mr. Natoli, the stage manager, was the one who approached Mr. Horowitz, the “La La Land” producer, to see that the envelope he was holding was the spare announcing Ms. Stone’s acting win. “The guys in headsets were going around with urgency looking for the other envelope,” Mr. Horowitz said. “One of the guys opens it, and it says ‘Moonlight,’ and I took it onstage and went to the microphone and said what I said.”

Mr. Horowitz reacted quickly.

“You guys, I’m sorry, no,” he said from the stage. “There’s a mistake. ‘Moonlight,’ you guys won best picture.”

For the filmmakers and actors in “Moonlight,” those final minutes were no less stunning.

“We all looked at each other and were like, ‘Is this a joke?’” the actor Andre Holland said later. “We waited and kept watching. We didn’t want to celebrate until we knew if it was a joke and whether this was really happening.”

As soon as the show ended, Dawn Hudson, the academy’s chief executive, jumped from her seat in the theater and marched backstage. Ms. Hudson and Cheryl Boone Isaacs, the academy’s president, gathered Ms. Dunaway, Mr. Beatty, the PwC accountants and other crew members into the theater’s green room.

“I’ve never seen Dawn look that mad,” a crew member said.