#The Odd Couple 2016

[tuttle-did-it]

Murder She Wrote, s7 e15 ‘The Taxman Commeth’ guest stars:

Fred Willard (Roseanne, Everybody Lives Raymond, Saturday Night Live, The Odd Couple 2016, Anchorman 2, Drunk History, Hot n Cleveland, Castle, Wall-E, Twilight Zone Radio Dramas, Stargate SG1, etc)

Max Wright (ALF, the Drew Carey show, Mad About You, the Early Edition, The John Laroquette Show, friends, Murphy Brown, Quantum Leap, etc)

[ducktracy]

i am a chronic "i need to watch that"-er, and i'm very lucky but also cursed to be surounded by excellent friends always recommending me excellent things. and i finally want to get off my keyster and actually WATCH them, but i have so many different serieseseseses i'm in the middle of that it's really hard to commit to one. so i made a watchlist of every series i'm either watching, beginning to watch, or wanting to watch. and then i decided to do the same with movies. and books i'm reading/want to read. and decided i should keep track of my art ideas and projects too. and this is great because with the shows especially, i've made a system where i watch one (or more if i have the time) episode of a show a day, and then make my way down and alternate between shows every day. and so far this has been working out great for me. but standing back and looking at my list is just making me say Oh, god. if you're wondering what's Eliza watching/reading/needing to work on, i have excellent news for you:

i'd also like to add that this is all on top of a continuation of last year's resolution in which i have thousands of golden age cartoons listed in a google doc, i roll a random number generator, and let it dictate the GAC i watch for the day. i am drowning

[lemoncrushh]

You're Never This Quiet

Summary: Harry has been quiet all evening and you wonder why.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1330

A/N: From my 2016 collection, based on a prompt given. Fluffy reader fic with a little bit of trepidation in the beginning.

You and Harry had been dating for two years. Actually, by this point, to say you were "dating" sounded a little silly and juvenile. You were in love. Simple as that. The way he treated you was the way you wanted to be treated, and you gave it back to him tenfold. Sure, it wasn't always easy. You'd had a few bumps in the road, some twists and turns. But to look back at your time together made you burst with pride. Nowadays, any celebrity romance that lasted more than a few months was not only shocking but commendable.

Tonight, you and Harry had gone to a party in Malibu. It was a casual affair on the beach, and like at most parties, you mingled with others throughout the evening, some people you knew, some you were meeting for the first time, but you always managed to circle back to each other. Harry would pull you close, kissing the top of your head before returning to his previous conversation, or perhaps walk with you to a nearby bar to get a refill on drinks.

This time, however, you noticed something different about him. Harry was never really one to stand still, always fidgeting if he wasn't chatting or telling a silly joke. Even if he was being affectionate with you, he wouldn't be serious for long before doing something like tickling you or commenting to others about how great you are. Tonight, he wasn't doing any of those things. Tonight, he was almost...quiet.

You watched him from across the room as he sat in the middle of a semi-circle sofa. For once he wasn't the center of attention. He sipped on his drink and nodded a few times, but you barely even saw his mouth move. A couple times you even saw him rub one of his palms down the leg of his jeans before switching his glass to his other hand and repeating. It was a little disconcerting to be honest, and you felt your stomach tighten. Someone said something to you, but you barely heard. Instead, you smiled politely and excused yourself.

"Hey," you whispered in his ear from behind the couch.

Harry nearly jumped up from his seat before turning to look at you.

"Oh, hey," he grinned when he realized it was you. "Come 'ere."

He gestured with his hand for you to sit next to him. You walked around the sofa and squeezed in. He gently took your hand and threaded his fingers through yours, making you feel a little more at ease. But you were still a little concerned.

"You okay?" you asked.

Harry nodded, giving your hand a little squeeze. But the fact that he swallowed hard was not lost on you. You knew something was up.

You continued sitting with him until his glass was empty and he set it down on the coffee table in front you. When he sat back and ran a hand through his hair, he leaned toward you to whisper.

"Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure," you nodded apprehensively.

You knew your eyes had to be big as saucers and your heart was just about beating out of your chest as you followed him outside to the large deck. The summer wind hit you in the face, the temperature warm even in the late hour.

Heading toward the edge of the deck, you were surprised when Harry took the stairs and stopped at the bottom one.

"We're going on the beach?" you questioned as you saw him take off his shoes.

"Yeah," he replied, trying to roll up his jeans. "Although I probably shouldn't have worn these."

You giggled lightly, feeling odd that this was the first sign of humor he'd shown all night. You slipped off your own shoes, grateful to be wearing a sundress, and took his awaiting hand before stepping out onto the warm sand.

You cringed slightly at the sensation of sand between your toes. You waited for Harry to say something, expecting to hear his usual comedic comments, but still he remained silent. As you got closer to the ocean and the sand became more compact, you gingerly swung your connected hands between you, hoping to lighten the mood. When Harry looked at you and smiled, you felt your heart flutter.

"I love you," you declared bravely. It was something you said regularly now, but somehow his reserved personality tonight made you a little afraid to say it out loud.

"I love you, too," he echoed.

If Harry heard the loud breath you exhaled, he didn't acknowledge it. You continued to walk together in silence, sans for the crashing waves and the wind in your ears. Finally, you couldn't take it any longer.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" you inquired.

"No...why?"

"You've been pretty quiet this evening," you commented.

There was a slight pause before Harry said, "I have?"

You stopped walking then, releasing your hand from his.

"You're never this quiet, what's wrong?"

Harry turned to look at you, a mixture of worry and confusion on his face.

"Nothing's wrong," he blinked.

"Yes there is," you nearly choked. "C'mon, Harry. We've been together for two years. I know you. Something's up."

Harry bowed his head and ran his hand over his face.

"Yeah, it has been two years," he agreed.

You narrowed your eyes, now confused yourself, and also more worried than ever. Your stomach was now doing somersaults, and you swallowed and wrapped your arms around your middle to try to settle it.

"I...uh...was..." Harry took a deep breath, "trying to decide the right time to do this."

"To do what?"

You watched as Harry shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled something out, though you couldn't quite see what it was. But when he knelt down in front of you in the sand, taking your hand in his, you had to cover your mouth with the other to block the scream that was rising in your throat.

"[Y/N]," he said loud and clear, "I'm sorry I've been such a dope today."

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

"I'm so fucking nervous," he muttered before clearing his throat. "My love, will you marry me?"

That was when you saw the ring in his other hand as he held it up. It glistened in the moonlight, reflecting the colors of the night sky and the water.

"Harry!" you barely got out as the tears were already welling up in your eyes. "Oh my God!"

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

You half laughed, half cried. "Oh my God, yes!"

Harry grinned as he swiftly slid the ring onto your finger, giving it a kiss. Then he stood up, taking your face in his hands and kissing your lips.

"I'll make you so happy," he promised, his eyes twinkling.

"I know, baby," you nodded. "You already do."

He kissed you again, this time deeper and longer. Your fingers tangled in the back of his hair as you tried to get as close to him as possible.

"I love you so much," you murmured against his mouth.

After holding each other for a while, and much more kissing, you both decided to ditch the rest of the party. Instead, you continued to walk down the beach, hand in hand, as a newly engaged couple. The idea made you giddy when you thought of it.

When Harry suggested you walk up the beach and sit down for a while, you eagerly agreed. He put his arm around you, and you leaned into him, draping your arm around his bent knee.

"Sorry about your jeans," you said as you felt the wetness from the sand.

"What?" he wondered before realizing what you were talking about. "Oh," he laughed. "It was totally worth it."

You smiled as he nuzzled your neck.

"I'm sorry I was being so quiet," he added.

"It's okay," you assured him. "That was totally worth it, too."

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[thankskenpenders]

I know Ken is notorious for his, um, odd creation habits, but even I’m shocked that it’s been over 10 years of work and THIS is all he has to show for it. I would maybe be a bit more lenient if each new page was hyper detailed or something like that, but as you pointed out in your review, he reused the same images across plenty of panels and so many of his backgrounds are just stock photos. The only way I can reconcile this to myself is wondering if maybe a bunch of that time was eaten up by extensive rewrites to his plans for the whole series, but even then, I’ll be even more shocked if the next volume ever comes out.

So I didn't get into this in the review because I really just wanted to focus on the book and the weird copyright situation that led to its creation, not Ken's personal life or his other endeavors, but he did make something else in the time since The Lara-Su Chronicles' announcement 13 years ago. That being his independent film: The Republic. Because after he left Archie Ken figured he'd move on to a career in Hollywood.

I think this was originally supposed to be a TV show, the pilot episode for which was released in 2010, but then in 2016 he decided to retool it as a commentary on Trump's immigration policies. I think the movie is still somehow not out despite being shot a few years ago, but he put out a trailer here:

Yes, the trailer really opens with 30 seconds of footage of Trump from CNN. I know writers who use subtext and they're all cowards etc. etc.

At least the cast is clearly trying their best in spite of the material. It's not Birdemic bad. And yes, that's Sean Young. THE Sean Young! Rachael from Blade Runner! I guess Ken's really eager to flex the fact that he's friends with a couple lower-level Hollywood producers.

Anyway, I think he's still looking for a distributor for this. It's truly a mystery why no one was eager to pick this up.

Ken's also said some stuff about how he waited years to put out TLSC: Beginnings as part of the 4D chess game he's playing with the copyright stuff. He has a general idea of what he can do based on the terms of the settlement, but he's eager to push it as far as he can. He tested the waters with things like a few small pieces of TLSC merch and an NFT announcement, to see if Sega would take legal action. In particular, the announcement that he was going to sell an NFT of Shade from Sonic Chronicles was a stunt designed to see if Sega would challenge his claim that Shade is legally the same character as Julie-Su. Since they haven't gone after him, and now it's been a few years, he's taking that as evidence that Sega isn't actively exercising those copyrights and isn't going to fight for this stuff.

There's some logic here. Part of the reason Dan DeCarlo lost his battle with Archie over the rights to Josie and the Pussycats is that he didn't take action against them sooner for making merch and whatnot. It's "use it or lose it" with copyrights. But it mostly just comes off as an excuse. If it was purely a waiting game and he had all this extra time, why did he need to recycle art so much in Beginnings? Why is he only releasing 30 new pages of material instead of a whole graphic novel? Where's the app? Why didn't he spellcheck the damn book?

[fall0utmind]

New fic!!!!!!

Let me know what you think!!

✨️WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I TOLD YOU MY DARKEST SECRETS?✨️

A rosquez medical leak AU fic

Here on AO3 (please check it out)

Below the cut for more

(Tw/ mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and medication abuse - no active description)

Please read with care 🤍🤍

CHAPTER 1 - DOOMSDAY 🏍

The news drops some time in free practice at Misano. Marc has no idea how it got out or who told the media, but he knows it would be everywhere for the next week—hell, the next year.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky, beating down on Marc, and filling the air with the familiar scent of burning rubber and asphalt. He’s going for a final flying lap, trying to put in a decent time on the GP23. Pushing through the ache of his body, he toes the limit for both him and his bike. He presses on until he passes the chequered flag, finally releasing the tension he holds, unwinding like a coil.

Only once he’s driving into the garage, towards the concerned faces of his press officer and crew, he realises something is wrong. At first, he thinks that he has done something wrong on track, perhaps he pushed someone off the racing line and ruined a flyer. He mentally scrambles, racking his brain for a mistake, for any reason he may have aggrieved the fans or his colleagues. It didn’t have to be much, these days, more than in 2015 or 2016, but they still sought any reason to string him up on a cross. Just like Valentino had done so willingly, all those years ago, sacrificing Marc as a martyr to the sport so he could be a god.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. There is a press conference later, maybe it has something to do with that. Marc hasn’t stepped a foot wrong today, he’s sure of it. No crashes, no mistakes, and no on-track battles that people like to examine and use against him. It’s only a practice session. God, he’s overthinking because he got like 4 hours of sleep last night, and this is Italy. Rossi territory. Anxious overthinking is Marc’s familiar friend these days, with so much on the line and so few people in his corner. Press conferences can be tricky in Italy but he’ll get through it, even with the hatred of a nation against him.

Marc clambers off his bike, passing his helmet to a nearby crew member. The team are tense, afraid to look him in the eyes. That’s odd for Marc, he has always had a natural air about him that draws others in and makes them feel at ease. Even Frankie, his ever-present race engineer, struggles to hold his gaze. It does nothing to put him at ease, anxiety coiling in his gut.

They run through their usual practice debrief, evaluating the bike set-up (good, today), pace (impossibly quick for the GP23, and that make Marc glow with satisfaction), and track. It is awkward and stilted, so at odds with the usual team atmosphere which Marc has come to love. The engineers and mechanics shoot the occasional pitying glance at Marc or towards his press officer, patiently waiting in the corner of the garage. Anticipation is clawing at his stomach, making nausea burn in the back of his throat. He knows something is wrong and he can barely focus on the discussion which is wrapping up around him, too panicked to pick up the threads of conversation.

After what feels like an eternity, the crew is dismissed, offering pats of congratulations, or maybe commiserations, as they disperse. Despite his tension, he feels a wave of pride rise in him, pleased with the performance he has managed so far, and grateful that he has managed to find a home within the Italian team.

Marc pushes himself out of his chair, shrugging his shoulders a couple of times, trying to ignore the persistent ache in his right arm. He shoots a tight smile at Frankie, before making his way over to the corner of the room, where the press officer awaits him, a grimace set on her face.

A quick look over one shoulder tells him Alex’s side of the garage is blissfully unaware of the tension in the other end of the room. His brother is happily chatting away to his team, hands waving around as he speaks, a trait which they both shared. Sometimes, he looks at his younger brother and feels scalding guilt at the burden he must carry due to Marc’s failure. It is nice to see him like this, carefree and at ease.

“Marc”

His thoughts are interrupted by the gentle prompting of the waiting woman, who nods to one of the private rooms. After a beat, Marc follows her, heart in his throat despite his best attempts to swallow the nerves. She sits down with a heavy sigh, prompting Marc to follow suit, gingerly sitting on the edge of his chair.

“There’s no easy way to say this Marc”

She awaits his slow nod before continuing

“There’s been a situation. Some of your hospital reports have been leaked, all we know for sure is something from around 2015. We don’t know much about what people know. Currently the media seem unaware about most of it and we would like to keep it that way.”

Marc frowns in confusion. 2015? What? I mean obviously it’s not ideal, a hospital shouldn’t ever let this kind of information reach the general public, especially not for someone as well known as him. But why is everyone walking on eggshells around him about a hospital admission, it makes no sense, at this point he’s at a hospital more often than he isn’t.

He is just about to ask what on earth she’s on about when it hits him. His heart drops like a stone. Hospital, A&E, 2015, the aftermath of Sepang and all the shit that followed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The press officer might still be talking to him, he doesn’t know. He feels like he is underwater, blood rushing in his ears. Heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his mouth. He sees her mouth moving, but hears nothing over his own thoughts, threatening to drown him. He needs to breathe, realising a few seconds too late to take a gasp of air, grounded by a gentle hand on his arm and kind eyes staring at him with pity.

“Obviously this is unanticipated, we don’t know who leaked this information or how they came across it in the first place. Be assured that we have legal looking into it right now, and we will keep you updated. We don’t know how much people know, its possible the reporters on site today haven’t caught wind of it yet. But they shouldn’t know much, even if they have. At the moment, we have it under control. It has only just come out in the last 30 minutes, but the press conference...”

Marc doesn’t need the look that follows to grasp her meaning Be cautious and be prepared. Right, Italy. Mierda.

“It should be fine, like I said, we are working on it to make sure it was just a minor leak about your attendance to hospital. No details.”

Marc takes another deep breath. Surely no one at the hospital would be stupid enough to share such confidential information. No, no, it is just some background noise, people will think he had an accident. Needed treatment. He trusts his team to keep an eye on it, it will blow over soon enough. He will be surprised if he even gets asked about it, with little to no evidence or substance.

Either way he has to face the press at some point. Not going will just make him look more suspicious, not to mention the hefty fine he will probably receive alongside. He drags himself to his feet, shooting her a smile that is probably a bit more of a grimace and thanking her for the heads up.

She reassures him once more that they have this under control, but his mind is already on another track. He needs a quick shower and to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of nosy reporters.

*

Marc is restless. Ten minutes into the press conference, he feels he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can tell the others have noticed. Pecco keeps shooting him little glances, and at one point he swears that the younger aborts a small movement towards Marc’s knee, which has been bouncing continuously since they sat down.

Usually, Marc doesn’t mind press conferences too much. Realistically, nothing could be as bad as the tumultuous media circus in the years that followed 2015. And if it ever gets that bad again, he has gotten very good at shutting down and putting his PR training into practice. Despite this, Marc can’t help but feel like he’s in shark-infested water.

He’s so stuck inside his head that he barely registers the question directed his way, his head jerking up at the sound of his name.

“Scusi?”

The reporter gives a slight laugh, eyes sharp and searching.

“What do you have to say about the rumours of your hospitalisation at the end of 2015? There are some suggestions that this was more than a biking injury?”

Marc’s heart gives a little stutter. Shit. He wasn’t expecting that so quickly. For the first time, Marc begins to panic, questioning how much the world knows.

“Ah, I say do not listen to everything you hear in the media”, he shoots the reporters a cheeky grin as a light chuckle goes around the room. He feels Pecco’s eyes burning into the side of his head but does not look back, simply nodding at the facilitator to continue.

The next question is directed to Jorge, asking him about his championship chances this year, with Jorge giving the usual spiel about the team and his bike, talking about the decent lap times he put in today. It had been a good practice session for all of them, with Pecco leading into tomorrow’s sessions, followed closely by Marc, dragging every inch out of the GP23, with Jorge and Enea rounding out the top four. Sunday promised to be an interesting race, with the four of them positing similar times throughout the weekend.

Distantly, Marc registers someone asking Enea about working with Pecco, as the current world champion, comparing his times to the other Italian rider, as if they haven’t been working together for over a year already. Marc almost scoffs. Clearly, some journalists needed new material.

Marc’s attention is drawn to a small commotion in the corner of the room, nearest the exit. He watches as his brother enters the room, wide eyes brimming with concern. Fuck. That isn’t good, Alex must know now. Had something else happened? He has faith in his team to keep this on the down low and prevent it all from blowing up in Marc’s face, but it doesn’t stop the flash of concern shooting through him.

“And Marc another question for you”

Well, so much for that. His head whips around at the reporter's tone, searching the crowd to find the speaker. That tone is never a good thing. The same they use when they are going to ask a hurtful question about Valentino or his most recent crash on the track. He tenses in anticipation.

“Regarding the rumours of your 2015 hospital visits, there are now some reports that these visits were due to a so-called mental health crisis. Do you have anything to say about this?”

His heart stops beating. The room goes dead silent. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, his fellow riders watching in confusion. For Marc, it is like watching a train wreck in slow motion. He looks up and catches Alex’s wide-eyed stare. He's sweating, beads rolling down the side of his neck. Shit. Fucking shit. He’s starting to think he’s not going to make it out of this press conference in one piece, torn apart by the gnashing teeth of the media.

He mentally shakes himself, unwilling to let the others see his dismay. Instead, he schools his features, wills his mouth into a flat line, and answers with his best media-trained nonchalance.

“Ah, it is nothing. No comment. This is not talking about racing; let's move on.”

This seems to wake Pecco up from his trance, tearing his gaze away from Marc and turning his attention back to the reporters. God knows what he was staring at, maybe trying to figure out if this could help him beat Marc next year, if he’s taken anything from Rossi, it would be that.

“Ah, are you going to ask us about the weekend, I would also like to talk about racing”

Some low mutters travel around the room. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He doesn’t know how they have found out, but he does know all too well that the press are like fucking vultures, circling at any sign of a kill. Alex looks like he is about to cry now, doe eyes wide and glossy, his face slack with shock and horror. Marc thinks his face might be a perfect mirror. He still doesn’t really know what’s going on, but it’s clearly worse than he had originally been told.

“Marc, following on from the previous question, it has come to light that you were admitted to A&E several times in 2015 due to suicide attempts. Do you have anything to say about this? Was this anything to do with your infamous fight with Valentino Rossi?”

Oh god, Marc is going to be sick. They went for the kill and came round for a second blow. He glances to his left. Pecco is looking at him in abject horror, his brain scrambling, trying to keep up with the carnage around him. Enea looks like his worst nightmare has come true, wide-eyed and scared, staring at Marc as if he has never seen him before. Jorge just looks confused, bafflement etched on every feature, mouth downturned.

So much for his team's plan to handle it, it has all gone to shit in a matter of minutes. He feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to his facade, destroying everything he has made himself be. Marc knows he is taking too long to respond, his jaw slack with shock. The world is staring at him with bated breath, his biggest secret lay on the table in front of them all, ready to be dissected. He can’t breathe. He feels wild with it, oxygen-starved and desperate. He needs to get out. He needs to get out now.

He scrambles out of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor behind him, shaking the rest of the room out of their stupor. The room explodes into a cacophony of noise and camera flashes. He is going to be sick. He makes a beeline towards Alex, tugging the younger along with him whilst he flees.

“Mierda, mare puta!

They know, they know that...”

Verbalising it out loud makes a wave of nausea hit him, sending him stumbling to the nearest bathroom. He flings the door open, leans over the toilet and proceeds to throw up everything he has eaten in the last 24 hours. Alex enters behind him, muttering in rapid Catalan under his breath.

2015 took a lot from him. More than anyone could know, more than anyone was ever meant to know. Jesus, 2015 nearly took everything from him, everything from his family. It has taken him a long time to accept that part of his life. Marc retches again into the toilet bowl, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain as he blinks back tears. Alex is pacing behind him, his angry mumbles and Marc’s harsh breathing filling the silence of the room.

“How do they know, how the fuck do they know? How did anyone find out?

Joder Marc, are you ok?”

Marc lifts his head from where he’s slumped against the toilet, looking impossibly young. Alex is the one person he would do anything for, he would walk through hell and back to protect him. He is the only one who truly knows what happened in 2015, who knows the extent of the demons in Marc’s brain. Now they will have to face them again.

“No, not really.”

It’s then that Marc registers Pecco standing behind Alex, concern painted across his face. There is no chance that he hasn’t witnessed Marc losing it, with Jorge and Enea standing not far behind. There is a horrifying understanding dawning in their eyes, the realisation that the journalists had struck gold. Marc had attempted his life in 2015 and has kept it inside for almost ten years, only for the world to find out entirely against his will. Marc knows that his face paints a portrait of pain and regret. It unsettles the others, gazing into a familiar face but seeing a whole dimension that was perhaps always there, if anyone had paid attention. All this pain is tucked up inside him in a neat little package, ripped open for greedy eyes to see. Pecco looks away, eyes guilty.

Marc feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, gasping for air that just won’t come. The other pilots probably think he is pathetic. He doesn’t think he can deal with another reason for the others to hate him. As much as he tries to rise above it, he loathes that his colleagues cannot bring themselves to like him. He cannot quite put a name to the emotions on Pecco’s face, Jorge’s sadness and Enea’s hurt are much easier to read. Perhaps it is disgust. And isn’t that ironic, the prodigy looking at him, disgusted by the consequences of Vale's war on Marc?

Marc mentally berates himself for giving so much away. He forces his eyes to go blank, pulling on the mask which he so often wears once more. He accepts the hand Alex offers him; his brother pulling him to his feet and bearing his weight as they push past Pecco. Marc keeps his eyes on the floor, unable to meet the pitying faces of Martin and Bastianini. Instead, he lets Alex guide them back to their motorhome in silence.

[wilwheaton]

What’s strange about the opinion? First of all, there is the supposed harm to the plaintiff. Smith, by her own account, is not a designer of wedding websites. She is merely an aspiring wedding-website designer who reportedly dreamed from childhood of the heterosexual wedding websites she would someday create. While one can admire the particularity of this vision, her plight pales a bit beside the counterweight of gay couples trying to plan weddings without facing discrimination. On top of that, according to the mind-blowing reporting of the New Republic’s Melissa Gira Grant, a 2016 email included in the plaintiff’s filings from a gay man asking Smith for wedding design services is apparently fake. His contact information led Gira Grant to a straight, baffled, married web designer who says he would have had no reason to contact Smith. Then there is the argument itself. A wedding website is an example of “expression,” sure — both sides agree on that. But Gorsuch, following a lower court, calls such a website “pure speech,” as if no services were being provided and the primary point of the website was to express the designer’s views on matrimony. In any case, he argues, the right of protected classes to equal treatment holds no weight before the free speech rights of expressive vendors: “When Colorado’s public accommodations law and the Constitution collide, there can be no question which must prevail.” This seems awfully odd if only because there is such an obvious comparison to interracial marriage — historically anathema to certain religious groups but not, in my lifetime, something for which vendors could legally withhold services. But maybe I was the crazy one. So I asked for help from Lewis and Clark Law School professor James M. Oleske Jr., whose 2015 article comparing religious exemptions for interracial marriage and same-sex marriage is cited by Justice Sonia Sotomayor in her dissent.

The Supreme Court's 303 Creative ruling is 'profoundly wrong'

The White House clearly saw the student loan ruling coming, and was ready with a speech and a plan.

Where is that for Affirmative Action? Where is that for the LGBTQ+ community?

I mean, come on, man. This ruling is fucking INSANE.

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

Savannah Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/Drabble [2/3]

it has been forever :'D (everyone say thank you to @moonbiine)

ANYWAYS, here's part 2 :}

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn [WIP]

Logan's POV

Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. It has been two hours and twenty-eight minutes and we've been stuck at 76% complete for forty minutes. Whoever made Windows deserves to burn and I stand by that, cause what do you mean that they can push an update and force restart my laptop.

"Logan when was the last time you updated this?" "Logan, why are there fifteen updates that need to be downloaded?" "Bro, when was the last time you actually shut down your laptop?" ... "I've been busy, okay--"

So it might be my fault. Partially. I will admit that much, but the laptop's never given me a problem before and it was running fine. It's just old, and has a few odd... kinks? I mean, the left half of the mousepad is jammed to the point where it can't click, and, sure, the screen does go black every now and again, but just hit it a few times it works! It's character, charm even (and I can't be bothered to fix it...)!

It was, honest to God, easier for Aiden to run back to his place and grab his laptop.

"So we agree that Logan is off electronic duty right?" Taylor had asked as Ben was setting up the other computer to the television screen with Aiden helping. It was a unanimous decision. Ben and Aiden are the new tech guys.

"Yeah, that's probably for the better," I had conceded.

Ben Clarke

Ben goes next because he saved the groups sanity by suggesting that Aiden just gets his laptop. Everyone, thank Ben for the night not failing.

To address the obvious, Ben has a text to speech app on his phone, which is connected to a speaker, that he uses to present. I will say that there is a sort of humor in this for two reasons. One, the voice can either be monotoned like a typical text-to-speech program with funny pronunciation errors, or two, it will sound like one of those videos on tiktok where an AI is reading a tumblr post about SuperBats or something and gets progressively more expressive as time goes on. Personally, I want to hear exasperated robot Ben voice explaining to Aiden why "Life is a Highway" on repeat can and will be considered a torture method.

Ben's music taste is GODLY. And he's more of a eclectic listener too so he has experience with a good amount of genres. This man does not bash other genres of music that he doesn't care for, he thinks its rude to the person he's talking to and to the artist.

Aiden is the exception to this rule^^

DESPISES having to subscribe to music platforms. What do you mean that you can't listen to a song on repeat without paying, what do you mean that you will interrupt his carefully crafted playlist with a recommended song that does not fit the vibe. This end up derailing his presentation couple times.

He has a set criteria that he judges on: length, vibes, transitions, and replayability. Good playlists should at minimum be an hour, have similar vibes/sound while still being unique, the transitions between songs shouldn't be jarring, and the playlist shouldn't be painful to listen to after a month.

Taylor and Ashlyn helped him judge everyone's playlists by acting as secondary perspectives. Taylor is more open to everyone's music tastes while Ashlyn scrutinizes them more. They pretty much just took a playlist that everyone listens to regularly, one that they made but listen to it every so often, and their liked songs.

I would also like everyone to remember that the series is set in 2016... they would have songs mostly from the 2000s-2010s with the exceptions of some 90s and 80s songs. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm just saying that I looked up 2010s hit songs and I'm filled with nostalgia.

Overall, Ben's criticisms and recommendations are genuinely thoughtful. Especially the recommendations. For each person, after critiquing their playlists, Ben made a slide of genres and artists that each person should check out to expand their tastes.

(I'll probably make a bit about what songs were on their playlist, idk tho)

Group Reaction (how they ranked in comparison to each other)

Personally, Tyler and Logan getting the best ratings because their playlists are very consistent in their vibes and are replayable. I also think that Ben's music taste fits the most with these two for some reason, so they got the most song recs out of everyone.

Ashlyn is third in the ranking. She has one or two that she listens to occasionally, and they're pretty short. They are absolute polar opposites though. One of the playlists is rock, since she canonically likes Paramore (if you don't, get well soon), and the other is classical music for her ballet performances.

Taylor is next. Her playlist isn't bad, its just... a bit everywhere. Like it starts pretty good, but you can tell that somewhere along the lines of creating this playlist she just added songs that she remembered that she likes. It mostly fits the same genre. Ben makes her a more organized playlist after the presentation.

Aiden is dead last. It's not because his music taste is shit. Aiden actually has a pretty good music taste. No. Its because he only listens to his liked songs on repeat like a monster. It is musical whiplash. You go from a movie theme song, to crying, to listening to white girl club music, to rock, to crying again, and then for some reason the Home Depot jingle???? The only playlists that he makes are for jokes really. Do you know the John Mulaney bit where he plays "What's New Pussycat?" 27 times. Yeah, that's Aiden.

Tyler Hernandez

Tyler's next, and, I'm letting you know now that he sprayed the fuck out of Aiden for interrupting. Yeah, Ash pulled them a part.

Motherfucker is so pleased with himself, like its honestly so funny. Aiden had him by the collar and Tyler was just fucking smiling. Taylor does throw her slipper at him for being rude, but he could honestly care less.

The slideshow itself is the most soulless thing ever made, man used the Blank Google Slides template and called it a day. Like one stock image on each slide, and its so pixelated. He probably did it like an hour ago. That's why his presentation is funny because he's just jabbing at Aiden over and over with a basic slideshow that you'd see someone pull out in a Spanish 1-2 class.

You know what? He probably had another presentation about what piercing he think would suit the group best, and just did this one out of spite cause Aiden was being loud. I take back my previous statement about him doing it an hour before getting to Logan's place, he did this on his PHONE WHEN THE LAPTOP WAS UPDATING!!!! Like Logan was taking a walk, Ben was trying to fix the computer, the girls went to make sandwiches, Aiden was running errands, and Tyler made this in an hour.

His presentation is based off a tier system where it gets more effective with each method. Methods 1-3 are pretty basic where its just stuff like duct taping his mouth shut, 4 and onwards just gets funny

I'll be completely honest, each way he put is wild, and it gets progressively more deranged as the presentation goes on. These one's my favorite

"Number 9: Dying You know, I thought this would be the best way, but the bastard got crushed by a ceiling and walked it off. I want you to try and convince me that Aiden wouldn't crawl out of hell just to ruin my day. " "Number 10: Put him in a room alone with Ashlyn's mom and dad *insert a picture of Aiden sitting not so comfortably in between Ashlyn's parents* I don't even think I need to say anything else, I mean, I will, but like... look at him"

This is honestly the shortest presentation of the night but so far it's the most chaotic (he will quickly lose this title).

Tyler went through two spray bottles, mainly for Aiden, but he did spray Taylor once or twice. She threw a shoe at him. It's only fair.

Groups Reaction

Aiden is standing to the side with a towel around himself because Logan said his grandparents would kill them for ruining their couch. He's not exactly pissed but he is kind of sulking. Honestly this just makes his presentation so much better for him.

You know how Tyler asked for suggestions in the beginning, Ben and Ashlyn give him genuine ideas. Mainly Ben, just out of good humor you know. And Tyler's taking notes.

Taylor is giggling, but she does feel a bit bad for Aiden. At some point she gives him a consolation sandwich to raise his spirits.

Logan, however, doesn't and he's just quietly enjoying the scene that's unfolding around him.

The end of these two presentations are by far more chaotic than the first two, and it feels like its only going to get worse from here(/pos). Because right now Aiden is fighting with Tyler, getting him soaked too, Taylor is filming them while Logan provides commentary, and Ashlyn is standing with Ben setting up the next powerpoint.

While it was initially decided that Aiden would go last, Ashlyn suggested that she and him switch. Mainly so that he can drip dry while presenting, and sit down when he's done.

Aiden is following a presentation that was just jabbing at him, how do you think his is going to end up now?

[mariacallous]

You’ve studied Russian information warfare pretty extensively. A few weeks ago the Justice Department indicted two employees of the Russian state media outlet RT for their role in surreptitiously funding a right-wing US media outfit as part of a foreign-influence-peddling scheme, which saw them pull the wool over a bunch of right-wing media personalities. Do you think this type of thing is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Russian information warfare?

Of course. It’s the tip of the iceberg, and I want to refer back to 2016. It was much bigger in 2016 than we recognized at the time. The things that the Obama administration was concerned with—like the actual penetration of state voting systems and stuff—that was really just nothing compared to all of the internet stuff they had going. And we basically caught zilcho of that before the election itself. And I think the federal government is more aware of it this time, but also the Russians are doing different things this time, no doubt.

I’m afraid what I think is that there are probably an awful lot of people who are doing this—including people who are much more important in the media than those guys—and that there’s just no way we’re going to catch very many of them before November. That’s my gut feeling.

While we’re on Russia, I do want to talk about Ukraine, especially since you’re there right now. I think one of the most unfortunate aspects of [the media’s coverage of] foreign wars—the Ukraine war and also the Israel-Hamas war—is just the way they inevitably fade into the background of the American news cycle, especially if no American boots are on the ground. I’m curious if this dynamic frustrates you as a historian.

Oh, a couple points there. One is, I’m going to point out slightly mean-spiritedly that the stories about war fatigue in Ukraine began in March 2022. As a historian, I am a little bit upset at journalists. I don’t mean the good ones. I don’t mean the guys I just saw who just came back from the front. [I mean] the people who are sitting in DC or New York or wherever, who immediately ginned up this notion of war fatigue and kept asking everybody from the beginning, “When are you going to get tired of this war?” We turned war fatigue into a topos almost instantaneously. And I found that really irresponsible because you’re affecting the discourse. But also, I feel like there was a kind of inbuilt laziness into it. If war fatigue sets in right away, then you have an excuse never to go to the country, and you have an excuse never to figure out what’s going on, and you have an excuse never to figure out why it’s important.

So I was really upset by that, and also because there’s just something so odd about Americans being tired of this war. We can get bored of it or whatever, but how can we be tired? We’re not doing a damn thing. We’re doing nothing. I mean, there’s some great individual Americans who are volunteering and giving supplies and stuff, but as a country, we’re not doing a damn thing. I mean, a tiny percentage of our defense budget—which would be going to other stuff anyway—insead goes to Ukraine.

And by the way, Ukrainians understand that Americans have other things to think about. I was not very far from the front three days ago talking to soldiers, and their basic attitude about the election and us was, like, “Yeah, you got your own things to think about. We understand. It’s not your war.” But as a historian, the thing which troubles me is pace, because with time, all kinds of resources wear down. And the most painful is the Ukrainian human resource. That’s probably a terribly euphemistic word, but people die and people get wounded and people get traumatized. Your own side runs out of stuff.

We were played by the Russians, psychologically, about the way wars are fought. And that stretched out the war. That’s the thing which bothers me most. You win wars with pace and you win wars with surprise. You don’t win wars by allowing the other side to dictate what the rules are and stretching everything out, which is basically what’s happened. And with that has come a certain amount of American distraction and changing the subject and impatience. I think journalists have made a mistake by making it into a kind of consumer thing where they’re sort of instructing the public that it’s okay to be bored or fatigued. And then I think the Biden administration made a mistake by not doing things at pace and allowing every decision to take weeks and months and so on.

What do you think another Trump presidency would mean for the war and for America’s commitment to Ukraine?

I think Trump switches sides and puts American power on the Russian side, effectively. I think Trump cuts off. He’s a bad dealmaker—that’s the problem. I mean, he’s a good entertainer. He’s very talented; he’s very charismatic. In his way, he’s very intelligent, but he’s not a good dealmaker. And a) ending wars is not a deal the way that buying a building is a deal, and b) even if it were, he’s consistently made bad deals his whole career and lost out and gone bankrupt.

So you can’t really trust him with something like this, even if his intentions were good—and I don’t think his intentions are good. Going back to the strongman thing, I think he believes that it’s right and good that the strong defeat and dominate the weak. And I think in his instinctual view of the world, Putin is pretty much the paradigmatic strongman—the one that he admires the most. And because he thinks Putin is strong, Putin will win. The sad irony of all this is that we are so much stronger than Russia. And in my view, the only way Russia can really win is if we flip or if we do nothing. So, because Trump himself is so psychologically weak and wants to look up to another strongman, I think he’s going to flip. But even if I’m wrong about that, I think he’s incompetent to deal with a situation like this. Because he wants the quick affirmation of a deal. And if the other side knows you’re in a hurry, then you’ve already lost from the beginning.

Timothy Snyder Explains How Americans Might Adapt to Fascism Under Trump

[gayofthefae]

Season 1 is Mike and El's love story because season 1 serves as a prologue:

Part of the thing with Mike and his romance with El is that he doesn't overtly seem to have a storyline outside of it. And that means that his primary character arc must be tied to and his demonstration in the final season of said character arc, which is confirmed for him is not complete yet, would be in his relationship with her.

But they got together in season 1. In the situation where he is straight and his character arc focus is to do with being with her...they started him with 0 need to grow in season. one.

If Mike were straight, the focus of his arc would be something he achieved in episode 8. of 42.

There isn't focus on them the way there is because they're the "main couple". There's focus on them because there's been nothing left for them to do as a couple since episode 8 of currently 34. (Their conflict serves a different purpose now).

In season 1, Mike would have needed to allow himself to see himself as deserving of El and be vulnerable enough to make a move. In episode 3, he worries she would judge him because of the bullying, but he overcomes that and does make a move.

If that's his arc....that's it. If that's his arc, then everything after that just repeated an already solved issue in order to solve it again. And I understand why people who think that hate it.

But when every other arc is written for 4-5 seasons...doesn't anyone find it odd that what they think Mike's was only written for 1? The others prove that they clearly planned for being renewed so....what gives?

I'll tell you what gives. Someone having an arc that completes itself that quickly with so much left is not an arc, it's a set up. It isn't an arc. Season 1 of 5? That's still just exposition in the grand scheme of things. They didn't finish a story then fall off. They simple established a fact: Mike and El are together and they got together in this way. All important information to have for later. They were not telling a love story. They were establishing a fact.

And then what they did with that fact was tell a story: a boy in a straight relationship behaves in a way that he shouldn't and didn't before being with her. - to know that we need to see him before he's with her.

Season 1 is simple: meet Mike before El. They're dating now btw.

That isn't a love story. It's just information you'll need for later. Season 1 is just "information you'll need for later when we tell you a story based on it".

That's what it is for literally everybody in the show, actually! Think Lucas Sinclair. Season 1 serves to show him before he met Max, much more tense and easily stressed a person. In season 2 his story really STARTS. Season 1 is his "before". The same is true of establishing Nancy and Steve and the way they are still together in the end of season 1. Will is also not in season 1 at all but he is a MAJOR part of the story and lore.

So if season 1 is just their "before"...what does that mean for the love story fully contained to season 1 with no further romance, payoff, or get-together outside of it?

I've said before: literally all they had to do was interrupt them two seconds earlier and save the first kiss for the Snow Ball. But season 2 is part of the story, not the prologue, and them kissing was just to have them start dating as soon as possible so by the time we hit the story, we knew it to be true.

But I understand. If all of us were given prologues thinking they were stories, our perceptions of the book would be much different. It makes complete sense why the perception from people who watched in 2016 and people who binge it now are so different. 2024 bingers perceive it as a prologue. They know the happy ending isn't left there because the drop down menu has three more numbers in it. They understand that this is just information to work off of. They expect more of those two's love story but when they aren't given it they go "huh, guess that was just in the prologue".

Mike and El's relationship isn't a story. It's lore. It's backstory. There's just no way to convey that when releasing it chronologically (and calling it a prologue would be assuming/seeming to depend on a renewal and would not have gotten picked up).

The STORY is his behavioral change.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 12/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016

2017 – Bradley

                For the first time in his life he has a carrier squeeze. He and Seresin have been finding all sorts of hidden spaces to get each other off. They've traded so many hand jobs and blow jobs over the last six months Bradley feels he knows Seresin’s body almost as well as he knows his own. They haven't done much more though, the time restraint and lack of something larger than a rack doesn't make it possible. Except for those ten days after they’d bumped into each other at Sink and Drink when they’d definitely made the most of every flat surface in both their base accommodations before beginning their deployment together.

                It’s different from previous deployments, with them definitely friendlier toward one another, although he’d still hesitate to call them friends. Seresin is a closed book, resisting all his attempts at conversation that don’t directly relate to sex. He’s asked about his family, knows he has a sister at least, caught him on the phone talking to her and organizing to go on holiday with her and her kids after their current deployment ends.

                He’s still chatting with Jas, but he seems busier, or pissed off. He can’t blame him if he is pissed off; Bradley hasn’t exactly apologize for simply failing to turn up, gave no explanation, just… left him hanging. He’s not even sure why he did it, he’d just seen Seresin and… made the wrong decision. He doesn’t understand why Seresin just seems to make all good sense just fly out the window, even his normal good humor and even-keel temperament faulters when he’s around. He needs to be less hasty and more careful.

                He hasn’t had sex with anyone but Seresin in nearly eighteen months. He sure as hell won’t be sharing that fact with Seresin; it’s not like Hangman is expecting anything other than sex, or expressed an interest in anything more. However the fact he’s only been having sex with one guy for the last year and a bit feels like a betrayal, after their conversation about pursuing something if it came up but being upfront about it. He doesn’t know if he wants anything more with Seresin, it’s a bit of a mindfuck when he doesn’t even know if he likes Seresin most of the time, the guy too prickly and defensive by half.

                But that, coupled with the fact that he hasn’t shared this information with Jas makes him uneasy; feels like he’s cheating on him. Describing the different ways he has and wants to fuck Seresin are not the casual hook-ups he’s used to describing. They’ve morphed into fantasies which he’s now sharing. He tries to rationalize it, and in all fairness it’s not very often him and Jas are getting each other off anymore, their chats either completely superficial or weirdly specific and deep, sharing childhood memories of when they last felt completely carefree, or moments of pure joy.

                His feeling of unease increases as the end of their deployment approaches, because Jas has made no mention of trying to meet up again and Bradley is pretty sure that it’s his fault.

…            …            …

                “Nat, I think I fucked up.”

                “You think, or you know?”

                “I know…”

                “Oh god, what did you do?”

                “Hangman.”

                “Hangman?”

                “I know! Look, I know okay? He’s just…” Bradey scratches the back of his neck. Seresin is hot, but that’s not all he wants. “He’s hot, and I want…”

                “What about your boy?”

                “Yeah. That’s where I’ve fucked up.”

                “Bradley… what did you do?”

                He pulls a face.

                “I kind of stood him up?”

                “What?”

                So he fills her in, their plan to finally meet up at Sink and Drink, where he’d worn one of his brightest shirts but then taken it off, carefully folded and hidden under his jacket when he’d seen Seresin. The memory of Seresin’s body coming to life under his fingers, like he was a desert and Bradley was the rain, so responsive to every little touch. He leaves out the salient details but he’s pretty sure Natasha can gather where his mind goes from the look on his face.

                “You stood up the guy you’ve been… having a relationship with online for a decade… to hook up with Hangman?”

                “Yeah.”

                “And he’s still talking to you?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Wow. Okay. You are…. I love you. Okay? Please keep that in the back of your mind as I say these next words. You’re my best friend. But what you’re doing, even unintentionally, is really fucked up. And hurtful.”

                “Yeah, I get that.”

                “No. Bradley. I don’t think you do. You’re being a massive dick. If a guy was treating me like this, what would you do?”

                Bradley opens his mouth and then shuts it abruptly.

                “Oh… Oh fuck.”

                “Yeah. Look yourself in the mirror. You aren’t being fair to either of them and you need to not be a dick about it.”

                “I’m being a dick to both of them.”

                “Yeah. Even Hangman deserves better than that…”

                “It’s not anything but sex with him.”

                “Does he know that?”

                “Well, every time I try and have a conversation that isn’t about sex he shuts me down or kicks me out. Or both. He’s a fucking Fort Knox with his personal life.”

                “Yeah, like you’re a walk in the park.” Bradley sighs, because she has a good point. “I mean, putting aside the fact that you’re maybe a complete idiot. Maybe this is your own way of sabotaging yourself? I mean… Leaving him before he can leave you. You've got commitment issues and you haven't even met the guy.”

                “No I don't!”

                “Bradley you've used this guy as an excuse to not pursue a relationship with anyone you've met for years. Then as soon as you finally get to meet him you bailed. You've got commitment issues.”

                “Not with my friends I don't.”

                “No. But we can’t break your heart and leave you.”

                “You could,” Bradley argues, stubborn.

                “Don’t tempt me. You need to come clean. They both deserve it.”

                “I don’t want to lose him.”

                “Yeah well, that’s not your decision to make. What’s that saying about setting something free?”

                “Yeah. Fuck.”

                He has a feeling this isn’t going to end well.

…            …            …

                He thinks he might throw up, his nerves unable to settle as he lies on the sofa and just stares at his phone, thumbs open the Grindr app before closing it again. He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. He needs to apologize. Doesn’t want to explain that he passed Jas over for sex with another guy, except it’s the truth and god it’s going to hurt him and Bradley hates himself, but is pretty sure he’ll hate himself more if he doesn’t lay it all out. He never wanted to hurt Jas.

>>Jas? You around? I need to talk to you about something.

                Once he sends those words there is no retracting them and he takes in some slow deep breaths. He’s trying to remember what they talked about all those years ago, he remembers telling him to give a guy a shot if he came along. But he doesn’t think Jas returned the sentiment exactly. He can’t remember. Shit. Now he feels even worse.

>>Yep.

>>I need to tell you something. I’ve realized something and I’ve been a dick and one of my friends pretty much threatened to gut me…

>>???

>>When we were meant to meet up I bumped into a guy. I ended up ditching you to have sex with him instead.

>>Wow.

>>Your friend is right. That is a dick move.

>>I was a sure thing.

>>And you told me something came up.

>>Fuck you.

>>I’m sorry.

>>I should have been upfront with you.

>>Why are you telling me now?

>>What’s the point?

>>Oh my god.

>>You’re breaking up with me.

>>I don’t know. Am I?

>>Don’t play fucking dumb.

>>You stood me up.

>>Have barely talked to me for the last few months.

>>Sounds like you’ve been in a relationship with a guy all that time.

>>Does he know about me?

>>No.

>>Of course he doesn’t.

>>Are you going to tell him?

>>Yeah. I have to.

>>Jas?

>>You must like him a lot. To be honest with him.

                Shit shit shit. He doesn’t though. He can’t untangle how he feels about Seresin to decide if he likes him or not. Is pretty certain that Seresin is going to laugh in his face if he tries to ask him anything other than if he’s down to fuck.

>>No. I don’t know.

>>I might like him, but I love you.

>>I’m being honest with you.

>>That’s not enough though is it?

>>Not if you can only be honest with me months after the fact and still just fuck off to go and be with another guy.

>>One who you want to be with.

>>More than you want to be with me.

>>Obviously.

>>I’m so sorry.

>>I never meant to hurt you.

>>Tell me what I can do to make this right.

>>Jas?

>>Please talk to me.

**This user is no longer available. They may have deleted the app or blocked you.**

                He doesn’t know which one is worse to consider, feels like he needs to either throw up or get drunk. Or get so drunk he starts throwing up.

                He can start on that as soon as he finishes crying.

…            …            …

                When he looks at his phone again the words stare back at him, and he has to suck in another sharp watery breath to hold back more tears. There’s a missed call and when he thumbs through to it, he sees Ice has tried to call him and he feels frozen for a second, decides not to borrow more worry before he finds why Ice is ringing him. He presses on call and sniffs to clear his nose and cough to clear his throat. He can do this and sound normal.

                “Hey Ice, I missed a call from you?”

                “Bradley. Uh. Thanks for calling me back. I wanted to ring and tell you this before you heard it on the grapevine.”

                “What?”

                “I’ve got cancer.”

                He’s glad he’s already sitting down, that he’s already planning on getting absolutely mind-numbingly drunk. God he’s glad he has eight weeks in which to make an absolute enemy of his kidney.

                “How bad? Where?”

                “Esophagus. All that smoking you told me would kill me one day…”

     ��          Just like that he’s crying again, the tears silent this time, emotions all too close to the surface, the memory of his mom, and his anger at Maverick and his older mixed-up emotions of not really understanding why his dad was never coming home and Natasha probably has a lot to say about all this.

                “Are you… what have they told you?”

                “I need an operation. Followed by radiation. There’s a whole treatment plan.”

                “Of course there is,” Bradley says, sniffing, because there had been one for his mom too.

                “Do you think you could come and stay? I know Sarah and the kids would like to see you.”

                Like he can deny Ice anything right now.

                “Yeah, of course. I’ll book a flight. Let you know the details.”

                “Good. Thank you. I’d like to see you too.” …            …            …

                He doesn’t get anywhere near to as drunk as he’d like, not with a flight now booked to California tomorrow. It’s probably a good thing he’ll be staying with Ice and not bombarding his kidneys or wallowing in his own self-pity when all the mistakes he’s made are his own. He just has one more thing he needs to do. He knocks on the door of Hangman’s temporary base accommodation and steels himself for what he’s hoping will be the least

                “Hey Hangman.”

                “Rooster. Making house calls now?”

                “You ever fucked someone?”

                “Uh. Yeah.”

                “Good. I want you to put your back into it. Make me forget. And ensure I remember you.”

                The sound Hangman makes is amusing and Bradley’s lips twitch, but he feels shattered inside, everything minced up and raw and bleeding.

                “Don’t take this the wrong way, don’t want you thinking I actually care about you, but what the fuck?”

                And there’s definite proof that Hangman definitely doesn’t care, actually saying it outright rather than just speaking volumes with his facial expressions and eye rolls.

                “I ruined the best relationship in my life and just found out my uncle has cancer. Just… will you fuck me?” Bradley asks, because that’s what he feels like he needs right now, wants to be held down, held together, forced to think about something that isn’t hurting Jas, isn’t Ice fighting cancer, isn’t his fractured non-relationship with Maverick.

                Seresin isn’t gentle, his fingers hard but not quite bruising. Bradley wouldn’t mind if he did leave marks, feels like he deserves them. Seresin manhandles him and Bradley lets him push him down, only pushes back when it’s his fingers pressing in to stretch him open. His breath comes in harsh pants against the sheets as Seresin slides into him, hands steady and soothing on his hips. Then he’s fucking him, the pace fast, feels fingers curling in his hair and pulling, nails scraping down his side, none of it gentle, none of it forgiving at all and he won’t cry or break no matter how much he wants to.

                When he does come there are tears squeezing their way out of the corner of his eyes, but he can pass them off as sweat, his body feeling well-worked over, languid and warm. Even if his inner-turmoil hasn’t settled his body feels a little less like it’s going to vibrate out in every direction. He’s buttoning up his shirt and getting ready to leave. He’s never stayed after they’ve hooked up and isn’t about to start now. He’s not sure what Natasha thinks he meant to say or ask, what she seriously thinks the outcome will be. But he needs to ask so he can honestly tell her what Hangman says in reply.

                “Would you ever be interested in something more than hooking up?”

                “Uh,” Seresin stalls, but he looks a combination of horrified and shocked, like the idea of being with Bradley for anything other than sex is inconceivable.

                “Yeah,” Bradley says, lets out a long sigh. “Didn’t think so. Probably just as well. Not like I’m exactly emotionally available anyway. I keep fucking things up.”

…            …            …

                It’s automatic the next morning, the photo of his morning coffee sent via SnapChat. He’s already got it open and thumb hovering over the send when he realizes that while Jas has maybe blocked him or deleted Grindr completely, Jas hasn’t done anything on SnapChat to block him. He adds I’m sorry, I love you to the image and sends it through and hopes.

…            …            …

                “You look worse than I feel…” Ice says when he opens the door and Bradley pulls a face.

                “Yeah. I’m not great,” he admits, and then he’s being enveloped in Ice’s arms and he feels cast back twenty years to when his mom died and he clings and cries and feels like he’s come home.

2018 - Jake

[tuttle-did-it]

Murder, She Wrote ‘Roadkill’ guest stars:

Robert O’Reilly - ST:TNG, ST:DS9, ST:ENT, The Mask, Numb3rs, Dr Quinn Medicine Woman, NYPD Blue, Dallas, CheersMax Headroom, TJ Hooker, and a LOT of Star Trek voice work for video games. If you don't recognise him, imagine he's wearing a Klingon head.

Melora Hardin - Monk, 17 Again, The Office (US), 27 Dresses, Scandal, Outlaw, Diagnosis Murder, Friends, Matlock.

Joanna Cassidy - Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Six Feet Under, ST:ENT, Blade Runner, Leverage: Redemption, NCIS: New Orleans, The Odd Couple (2016), Switched at Birth, Bones, Body of Proof, Heroes, Boston Legal, Burkey’s Law

10.19 Episode aired May 1, 1994

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past." CHAPTER CW: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT ((not from simon))

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1400 HOURS

"You're movin' too much, still."

"You are quite literally breathing down my neck.  Kinda hard not to."

"Yeah, well, get used to it, love.  'Cause at this point you're always gonna have someone looming over you."

You huff, unamused, and it clouds out in front of your face as you squint through the scope of an unloaded rifle.  Gloved hands grip the machine as you focus the scope on a point far-off at the other end of the course. 

Four hours you've been out here, now, running a sniping simulation.  The rest of your squad was split up in pairs across the vast landscape.  You were left as the odd one out and, seeing as Walker had originally planned to just stick you carelessly in with another group, Simon volunteered to partner with you instead.  Keep things equal.  Which basically—as your superior—meant he had an excuse to sit back and smoke while you did all the work.

The exercise was simple; climb the mountain, find your post, sit and keep watch for flags until the next team tags you out.  A sniping exercise as well as a strength and conditioning one.  

You both made quick work of the mountain, ice picks cracking against the ice.  Simon never really considered himself the competitive type, partially because he never needed to be and partially because there was no point—he's worked hard to ensure he's always the biggest guy in the room.  Today, though, something in your growing annoyance as he yelled down keep up, sergeant or watch your footing every time you lagged behind stirred something in you, which in turn stirred something in him.  It quickly became something of a race.

When his pick slipped and you finally surpassed him as he skidded down a few meters, he heard your laugh for the first time against the wind.  For some reason, it made him smile, too.

"I hate sniper duty," you grumble.  "Don't know how you do it—sit in the snow for hours."

"Same way I put up with your whiny ass."

"And what's that?"

"Patience."

You roll your eyes, but your lip quirks up into a smile nonetheless.  A sight he's grown more accustomed to over the course of the past couple days of training and conversation.  He's helped you out in little ways, stopping by the shooting range to offer some constructive criticism as you practiced, offering dietary and training advice to get your strength up, sticking his neck out for you when he could around Walker…among other things.  As it would turn out, you were good company.  Whiny, maybe—but good company, nonetheless. 

You were improving, too.  Temperament and strength-wise.  How much of it is due to his company rather than his guidance, though, he isn't sure.

"You're not funny," you retort.

"You complained the whole way up the mountain, love."

You huff and shoot him a look.  "Did I get it done?"

"Affirmative."

"And did I beat you while doing it?"

He shrugs.  "More or less."

"Then you should watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

His eyebrows raise, amused.  "Is that a threat I hear?"

"It's a promise to beat you again sliding back down the mountain, sir."

He imagines you throwing yourself down the snow in order to beat your own speed record, and he chuckles a little at the thought.  "I'd like to see you try, Angel."

You smile, gaze focused through the scope.  You've spotted three flags already, and you spot two more as another hour passes.  The team that's supposed to take your place is getting closer, Ghost thinks it'll be twenty minutes before they rendezvous, and you both make your way back for the day.  

"Ghost."

"Angel," he exhales another cloud of smoke and vapor when you speak, breaking the comfortable silence that's washed over you both.

You maneuver awkwardly to position your hand behind you, opening and closing your fist a few times.

"Hand me one of those," you say, your breathing puffing out into the freezing air.  "And my lighter."

He shakes his head with an amused smirk.   "You're supposed to be focusing."

"Can't focus if my hands are shaking."

"And what if this is a real scenario?  You're not gonna have cigarettes in a life-or-death situation, sergeant."

"Yeah, well, you do," you flex your hand again.  "So gimme."

He figures you're the only Sergeant on base he'd let order him around, but he doesn't let that thought take root in his mind. Instead, he shifts closer so that he's lying on his stomach next to you in the snow.  

"Keep still," he tells you, plucking a cigarette from his pack.  "You miss a flag Walker won't let me hear the end of it." 

You seem slightly surprised, but you don't say anything as he slots himself next to you.  He offers you the cigarette as you keep your gaze in the scope, and you use your free hand to slot it between your lips before he lights it.  You inhale slowly, and he watches your lips as you do so; watches the tips of your fingers through the clipped tips of the gloves he gave you and watches you exhale.  When he looks up, you're already looking at him.  He's close enough to see where snow clings to your lashes.

A beat passes where you both just stare at each other.  Simon finds he can't read your expression.  Then, you shake your head and clear your throat, which in turn snaps him out of his daze, before you take another drag and lock your focus in once more.

"Another flag," you say, your brow furrowed.  "At your twelve o' clock.  About four kilometers out."

Simon shifts, putting some space between you both as he clears his throat because fuck.  What the hell was that? 

"Copy that."

You're quiet for the rest of the exercise, only speaking whenever you spot another flag.  For some reason, Simon still finds himself fixed on the cigarette in your hand as you work.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1800 HOURS

Whenever both return to the base, there's a lot of whispering.  He doesn't notice, at first, too busy sorting equipment and putting it away.  You don't notice the lingering stares or the hushed voices either; or you're just pointedly ignoring them.  Sorting through your own gear nearby, you're quiet, and you're done and ready before he's even folded his snowsuit.  Nevertheless, Simon doesn't pay much mind to the name being whispered around until he can put the face to it.

Roger's Back.

Now, if there is one thing Simon isn't—it's humble.  After years of hard work he's managed to pack on an impressive amount of muscle, taking him from a lanky, malnourished teen to the legend he was now.  Not since Roba has he ever had an issue taking down anyone with the same experience, or sometimes more, than him.  He's made sure of that and intends to keep things that way.  

That is, until Simon happens to lift his head and peer down the hall towards someone he, for once, doesn't have to look down to meet the gaze of.

He's massive, is Simon's first thought.  The same height as him, he wagers the bloke might be the only lower-ranked soldier here who actually matches his strength enough to maybe have the upper hand in a fight.  

Simon's second thought is that bloody hell.

There's a long scratch across the man's cheek and the remains of a bruise around that of an eyepatch.  There's a still-healing gash on the side of his head, scar tissue fresh and thick on the temple of a shaved head, flesh stretched inward from staples freshly removed.

Ah.  Roger.  The sergeant who's skull you cracked against the edge of a bar.

The man approaches you from behind and Simon stops in his tracks just down the hall, eyes flitting over to watch the scene unfold in the corner of his eye.  

Keeping his face hidden had its cons, sure.  Maybe he did nearly suffocate himself every time he sweat his ass off in the desert.  Maybe underwater tasks were difficult and maybe he had to jump through all kinds of hoops to avoid getting his picture taken.  In hiding his own emotions, however, he's become quite good at reading the body language of others.

And you're uncomfortable.  Tense.  Ready to bite at a moment's notice.

You stand rigid still as you sense his presence, your back to the man as he approaches lazily to stand behind you.  Some words are exchanged.  You, biting retorts that just barely count as professional and him…standing too close for comfort.  

You hold your ground.  You don't punch first—just like Simon told you.  He watches the man's lips move, reads the threat that crosses his lips.  Still, you hold your ground as Simon's fists clench and he realizes what's happening—why you punched first.  Why you're struggling and why you put your training on halt for leave.

Next time, the man says.  Next time, you're not getting away so easily, bird.

Simon watches you think about it.  He watches your hands ball into fists, watches your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch with disgust.  But you don't move, no—you don't shrink away in fear and you don't immediately go for the kill.  You stand your ground just as Simon told you to.

You do so until the man looks away first, sauntering off.  Simon watches you let out one breath, then another, before you grab your pack in a shaking hand and sling it over your shoulder.  His eyes linger on you as you quickly leave the room, barely noticing how Roger approaches him to introduce himself.

It's not until the door shuts behind you that Simon grabs the young Sergeant by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall.  Roger lets out a startled yelp.

"You lay another finger on her," he snarls.  "And I'll fuckin' cut it off, Sergeant, you copy?"

Roger's eyes are wide.  The breath knocked from his lungs, he's panting, and his mouth opens and shuts again in shock.

"I said do you copy?"

"Yes—yes, sir.  Copy and check."

Satisfied that his warning is taken seriously, Simon turns him loose with a hissed, "piss off."

Roger stumbles.  Disoriented, he continues down the hallway, and Simon is still seething as his boots carry him down a wrong turn to Walker's office.

He doesn't walk out until your safety is guaranteed.

[amageish]

Unpacking Kitty Pryde's Sexuality

Okay, I've done a couple posts like this before... Let's take on a big one, shall we?

In Maruaders #12, released in 2020, Kate "Kitty" Pryde kissed a woman.

This was reported on fairly widely as Kitty Pryde's coming-out moment. Many people across fandom and outside of it were celebrating the queerness of one Katherine Anne Pryde. After decades upon decades of queer-coding, it was official! Kitty Pryde is a bisexual woman! Let's all celebrate!

(I personally would not call queercoding "queerbaiting" when it was done at a time when sodomy laws were still being enforced in America, but whatever.)

And then... uh... nothing really changed?

Since then, she has returned to her usual status quo in terms of queerness and queer-coding. She has had plenty of cheeky moments, wink-nods towards her queer identity, but nothing as explicit as a kiss - and no explicitly romantic relationships of any kind.

Now, this headline-making kiss was, narratively, a foil to an earlier kiss - she got a tattoo and kissed her male tattoo artist, died, came back to life, and then got a new tattoo and kissed her female tattoo artist. The woman didn't really have a purpose in the story beyond tattooing Pryde, being kissed by her, and having a design which is strikingly similar to that of Magik, one of Pryde's gal pals... All that said, it wasn't exactly the type of thing that needed to be followed up on... but it is still odd that Pryde kissed a woman, was hailed as bisexual, and then Marvel corporate went silent on the matter.

For some backstory, Pryde has been queercoded more or less since her debut. She's had three roommate situationships which are widely discussed as her queer encounters, plus a handful of other ones - notably a period where she was manipulated by the seduction of Saturnyne.

One of these relationships, Pryde with Rachel Summers, was confirmed by Pryde's creator Chris Claremont via interview in 2016, which increased discussion of her potential queerness - though that discussion has been going on for a looooong time before then.

Now, personally, when I see queer subtext vanish suddenly, my assumption is typically that corporate got involved... which seemed more likely when she was teased as a potential new character in X-Men 97. Perhaps corporate doesn't want her to be queer in that show and so they don't want her to be queer in the comic books either. Corporations are weird like that sometimes.

HOWEVER. Everything is suddenly changing in June 2024? Four years after Kate Pryde smooched a tattoo artist, Marvel mobile games are suddenly really keen to remind us that Kate Pryde is, in fact, queer???

And look. This probably means nothing. It is likely that the marketing people who worked on these events had heard Pryde was queer and tossed her into their events... but it still feels notable to me!

With these mobile game promotions, the idea of Kate Pryde being a queer character is being put in more people's feeds and in more people's minds then ever before... While the kiss was viral, it was mostly viral in queer spaces (as well as the types of spaces vigilantly opposed to queerness in nerd culture media), while this is putting it in the hands of standard mobile game users... Plus it is using Marvel's marketing budget to promote them - Marvel isn't sponsoring posts to put screenshots of Pryde checking out Dazzler's ass in X-Terminators in people's feeds, but they are to let us know that we should log into Puzzle Quest to claim a gaudy outfit...

So I am happy to see this development happen... It does feel like a (however atypical) step forward and I hope it isn't too long before Pryde can get explicitly queer stories told about her on a regular basis... I mean, her name is Pryde, for crying out loud...

[cartoonistcoop]

ShortBox Comics Member Interview: Seosamh Dáire

Throughout the month of October, the Cartoonist Cooperative will be sharing interviews with members of the Co-op who have a new comic available at the ShortBox Comics Fair 2024! 

NOTE: The Cartoonist Cooperative is not affiliated, associated, authorized, endorsed by, or in any way formally connected with ShortBox.  

Today’s spotlight is Seosamh Dáire ( @saint_vagrant ) and their new comic for ShortBox, THE SOLAR SYSTEM.

We’d love it if you could introduce yourself and tell us about your background in comics.

Seosamh Dáire: Hey thanks for having me! I’m Seosamh Dáire, aka Joe (him/sé.) i have a BFA in Illustration, but more importantly I made a 200-page comic when I was 13 about fantasy angels, and after all that work, dropped it unceremoniously when I realised it wasn’t gay enough. So i’ve been filling the void ever since. Ironically, part of filling the void necessitates making comics about holes, like mine and my partner Anka’s ongoing sci-fi story SUPERPOSE. Recently I was part of the Ignatz-nominated HOME anthology, a collection of autobiographical comics about being of or in Ireland. My work is largely targeted toward mature readers, and last year I made the short 18+ comics TERESIAN for the Noah’s Ark anthology and OSHA VIOLATION (just for fun) and contributed illustrations to the BOOK OF SHADOWS anthologies.

I’ve been making little comics for most of my life, but now i make bigger comics. SUPERPOSE launched in 2016 so even if the clock started at that moment, I’ve been at it for a minute.

Tell us more about your new comic?

SD: Told in a little over 100 black and white pages, THE SOLAR SYSTEM is a trans/anti-military/sci-fi comic set in four timelines. There is Jack, equal parts soldier and experiment, and his mother and father, at odds with what they have made. He meets Nour, a displaced prodigy sniper, an intended footnote in the list of consequences of his parents’ work. With Jack as a vassal and Nour a resistance soldier, they find each other on opposite sides every time in a fight over the control of a superweapon, whose detonation puts the timelines into motion.

Tell us about your creative process; how did you develop this comic and what are the steps you took to bring it to the final stage?

SD: As with most of my work, I got smacked over the head with the frying pan of an idea and immediately went for it. There were some loose concepts floating around prior, but my acceptance to the fair gave me an excuse to solidify it. I wrote (plotted out, scripted) three different versions—I like each one tremendously. THE SOLAR SYSTEM is the third pass, and actually incorporates aspects of that process in the story itself by way of distinct but interconnected parts. the format also took a lot of concentration, as it’s all interwoven, and while not linear, i wanted each next thing to unfold naturally from the last.

The development of the story held all my focus, whereas art was less of a concern since I didn’t expect to draw in a different style, but rather make myself comfortable with a different level of finish, and confined myself to only a couple select tools to accomplish this. It’s the first comic I’ve made using Clip Studio, drawn straight into it without using anything other than a few modified brushes. Then I finished (text/dialogue, any extra painting or effects) in Photoshop.

I value the time I spend fleshing out each character regardless of how much they feature—how they move and how talk, their idiosyncrasies, are all so vivid to me and finding a way to make that as real to a reader as it is to me is part of the fun. I love challenging myself with “what if?” or “if x then y” and making connections that way, heightening the significance between elements, editing and cutting them together to build to each “aha, there it is” moment; I know it when I see it! Ultimately, even if the themes and ideas of the work aren’t identifiable at first, I care most about conveying emotion and that telling a story. Seeing a stranger cry and not knowing why can still stir you all the same. I do think the comic reveals more upon each return, though…

My comic did require a fair amount of research, which is something for which I enjoy any excuse to do. Starting off broadly helps me narrow with more intentionality, although it can get a bit overwhelming—there really is always more to know, and it takes me some time to find a solid place to settle. For reading, I revisited old and new writing/listening from Irish socialists as well as that in the Caucasus, and destabilisation by American interests, also referred to some surreal papers on combat tactics by American colonels which is unsettling stuff, but endlessly interesting.

I owe much inspiration to the IRA, PFLP, YPG/PKK, and Soviet partisans, among many others. 

Do you have any creative rituals or routines to prepare yourself to make comics?

SD: As much as I seek out new resources, I return to the things I’ve always loved. It reminds me what drives me—I’m very emotionally, creatively satisfied even just by select moments within a larger work, such that I get something new out of the experience every time even if it doesn’t directly apply to the project. I rewatched Into The West, The Manchurian Candidate (2004 version), the Escaflowne film, Spriggan, Solaris, I watched Heat… and then rewatched the ending of Heat. Obsession is my ritual, really.

Read the rest of the interview HERE! And dont forget to check out the Shortbox Comics Fair to support these lovely creators!!

[taylortruther]

Did it feel like her songs about Joe were starting to get redundant? By the time Midnights came out I was surprised we were hearing another two songs about the breakup/make up period in the beginning, another song about the beginning when they were falling in love, another three songs about how the relationship is great if the world stays out of it, another song about the Afterglow I-thought-he-cheated moment, and another song about how it wasn't supposed to work but it did. It really struck me that the Joe parts of Midnights were dedicated to not giving us any kind of update or really new information. It was all either about their beginnings again or 'everything's perfect except for the media nothing to see here.' She found a couple new angles on it, like Mastermind, but she was mining the same ground she'd been sifting through for four albums already. At the time it struck me as odd that she was deliberately avoiding any real update, but I thought she was just committed to privacy and refused to go into any other part of their relationship that wasn't already known (which is entirely her right). But obviously it turned out to be much more complicated than that and the mysterious gap makes perfect sense now.

i noticed the beginning was really fertile ground for her, but it didn't really strike me as unusual or concerning. the 2016-2019 period of her life was HARD. it was obvious, to me, she was probably processing that stuff all the time because for her, it never went away.

additionally, folkmore's fictional narratives and midnights' reflections on the past still reflect her mental landscape at the time of writing (tolerate it, coney island, bejeweled, champagne problems, hoax say hello.) so i'd argue she was treading new ground and writing about some of their issues even if it wasn't strictly autobiographical.

plus, as super fans, i think we get caught in the minutiae and don't see the big picture. let's pull back and look at the story her albums told about their relationship, in stages:

2016: joe and taylor meet and fall in love 2017: reputation is released and, among other things, it's about joe being sexy and wonderful and not caring that she was "crazy" or cancelled 2019: masters situation happens also 2019: lover is released and it's about taylor recovering from the cancellation, fighting her demons, admitting she self-sabotages, but we also get songs implying they want to get married! makes sense, it's 2-3 years of dating now. we also, notably, get a song about her wanting to step back out into the world! 2020: pandemic! sorry, daylight! also 2020: folklore and evermore are released and are about, among other things!, how she fears her life is too big for joe to handle but she is still planning a future with him (peace, the lakes, which both feel more present to me.) makes sense, they have obviously talked marriage and KIDS, things are getting very real. but, to your point, evermore in particular reasserts that they were lucky to find each other in the beginning (clm, lss, evermore.) 2021: renegade discusses joe's shit - we now understand that he has his own struggles and clearly describes a very recent/present conflict ("timing") 2022: in midnights, we get songs about the early honeymoon phase (lavender haze), and about how he is still a respite from it all (sweet nothing, mentions a recent trip to wicklow.) 2023: ylm drops (written in dec 2021), we also get the alcott - both implying conflict and a couple trying or failing to reconnect. makes sense, it's been like 6-7 years! couples go through shit!

...no, this isn't the WHOLE story. but it feels like a satisfying one, and not one where she was simply recycling topics. to me anyway.

[readytoplaygod]

how'd you and Jonas meet and start dating? Who asked who out first and what attracted you to him?

I'll be brief. So back in 2015/2016, we'd started following each other on Instagram. We didn't talk much then, outside of him occasionally asking me to come to Comedy Attic and maybe see one of his shows. My boyfriend at the time hated standup comedy, so I never went. Mind you, I love stand-up, and did eventually go to a show there with some other friends and had a blast.

Fast forward to 2018. I am freshly graduated from college and am kind of listless staying in town. My job plans didn't workout (which is honestly a godsend. I don't think I could stand to work in liability and claims at GEICO), so I was staying in Bloomington and keeping busy working at a museum, an Auditorium, and a hair salon doing custodial work. My boss at the hair salon was also paying me to workout with him and also help him with yardwork at his house and maybe even be friends with him (?). Idk, it was an odd time, but ultimately I'd also been lonely. A large portion of my friends had graduated and moved, my brothers hadn't yet established themselves fully in town, so I was looking to meet people.

One night, I'd gone to the Backdoor to hangout. It's our local gay bar, and I didn't know at the time, but apparently they host the after party for the Limestone Comedy Festival every year. It's a huge event that brings in comedians from all over the US. I got to meet Bob the Drag Queen a couple years ago after Jonas had hosted when Bob was headling; it's a fun time. Anyway, I was hanging out on the patio sitting on the railing when Jonas comes out of the bar. We recognize each other and say that it's nice to finally meet, and hope we're each having a good night. Nothing much beyond that, but he seemed very nice and sweet and had a great smile.

I'd dated around a little bit, but nothing was really coming of it and I was also still getting over an ex from earlier that year. I wasn't in the mindset for a relationship. In any case, I get a message from Jonas over Grindr just saying that it was nice seeing me the other night, and asking if I'd like to get half-priced wine at Uptown. They used to have a deal for it on Mondays. I wasn't a huge fan of wine - I thought it was a scam by rich people to just seem cultured - but I was into the idea of at least making friends. I was nervous, but went in with an open mind.

I don't dress up a ton. I think I was wearing my favorite Jean colored button up and some other jeans. He's sitting at the bar by the time I arrive, and the pre-Olympics are playing on the TV. Track and field, so lots of running and jumping. Conversation with Jonas is easy. He's kind, funny, and we have some similar interests and outlook on things. It's a fun hangout as we split a bottle of wine. I believe it was a white, but can't recall if it was dry or sweet. Just that I was savoring my time with him.

He and I lived roughly on the same street - I further up the road than him - so we walk in the same direction as we leave. It's a nice summer evening, so people are out and walking and it feels peaceful. We get stopped a couple times as it turns out quite a few people know Jonas, so I get to see how he interacts with others and people really like him. We also run into his friend Tom, who has since moved away, but at that time was planning on going to karaoke at the Bluebird. I don't sing publicly, but was happy to join along.

As karaoke was getting started, I remember dancing with Tom for a minute, and then us regrouping as Jonas and him were going to sing a duet. Jonas disputes this, or maybe they sang two songs, but I know for certain they sang "This Kiss" by Faith Hill. Come to find out, Jonas also has a wonderful singing voice. We stay out for a bit longer, have some drinks, but ultimately call it a night. We walk to the corner of the street and say our goodbyes. No hug, no kiss. Just remarking that we had a nice time. I feel very fuzzy inside.

At that time, it'd had kind of felt like people wanted something physical/sexual of me. Other relationships had also been various levels of physical/sexual, so I kind of felt like that was an expectation. But nothing with him. I felt like he just like, well, me. I wanted to see him again.

I let him know I made it home safe, and he's glad to hear it, and I ask when is too soon to see him again. I believe we schedule dinner at his place on Wednesday. We text through the next day or two and he's still charming and lovely. Dinner at his place was great, though all I remember was the crème brûlée he'd made. I sleep over that night, and he falls asleep to Coco. Still nothing physical. He drives me back home the next morning while on his way to work. I just want to keep hanging out with him.

I believe our third date was at the Comedy Attic during the Bloomington Comedy Competition to see who wins funniest person on the scene. Jonas was up that night. I get secondhand embarrassment very easily, so in truth I was worried about what could happen if he wasn't good. He's this incredible guy, but if his comedy is bad, am I gonna have to support that the rest of our relationship? Turns out, my fears were unfounded. He kills that night, and by the end of the summer wins the competition. It was a remarkable first impression.

Ultimately, we just don't stop hanging out. We of course eventually kiss and more, maybe even from that third date, but I just really loved being around him. I'd even texted my brothers one morning when I'd woken up at his place and saw all of his Star Wars stuff and martial arts ranks and belts and was just like "Wow, this guy is cool." Early on, I'd also drawn a few dinosaurs and left him punny little notes ultimately wishing him a good day. Everything continued to grow from there, and now this will be our 6th year together. I'm very lucky to know and be with such a thoughtful, generous, compassionate, open-minded, supportive, and caring person. I could stand to tell him that more.