#Voids your insurance or at least it did ours

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I'm actually so sick and fucking tired of people who think covid is comparable to the flu. Just bc you or a family member got it and didn't die doesn't mean it's not super fucking serious and life threatening, ESPECIALLY for disabled people/people with health issues/autoimmune disorders. Every time my father sees me wearing a mask he rants about how covid is just like the flu and that everyone is over reacting and [insert shitty conspiracy theory here] and it makes me so upset every goddamn time. I got covid half a year ago, despite doing everything right, thanks to my parents' stupidity. I was sick for 13 days, entirely bedridden and feverish for 9 of those days. I physically couldn't get out of bed, not even to piss, the entire first day my mother had to half carry me everywhere. Same thing the second day, when she dragged me to the doctor where I tested positive. The first five days, I couldn't even look at an electronic device and had to keep the lights off all the time bc I'd actually vomit. I had a migraine that didn't go away no matter what medicine I took, for the entire the first week. My nose was constantly stuffy and my sinuses were so backed up I couldn't breathe through my nose, which made breathing in general so difficult and painful bc my asthma was also exacerbated. So my chest hurt too. All my normal chronic pain was magnified tenfold. I had a 103 fever for three days in a row, then it fluctuated between 98-100 the rest of the time. Thinking about it right now I still remember the pain and how it felt. I've had strep throat, a lot as a kid. I've had chicken pox, and the flu several times, because my parents never fucking vaccinated us. I have never been more sick in my goddamn life than I was with covid. And this is just me. Yes I'm disabled and yes I'm still being tested for possible autoimmune disorders (my mom and her whole side of the family have them) but even still I'm not nearly as at risk as a lot of people, and I was still more affected than anyone in my entire family, who have all also gotten covid because of their own stupidity. My taste and smell were never affected, but I'm still losing hair from it, which is apparently also a symptom I never knew about.

Wear. Your fucking. Masks. Covid is still around, it's still super fucking serious, it is NOT just like the flu, and you had fucking better take it seriously. Even if you don't care about getting it yourself, at least show some goddamn consideration for others whose health and lives are at risk.

[phantasmechanical]

hello what is tumblr for if not ranting into the void, so allow me to tell the void things I wish I could tell the patients who come into the ER where I work

I do not need to see a picture of it

I do not need you to (re)move your clothing to show it to me

I do not need any details or context at all actually

Nope not your allergies either.

Anything you could possibly be coming into this particular ER for can be described in 10 words or less.

I am not clinical staff.

Oh my god I am not clinical staff

I cannot give you medical advice, I cannot give you medicine, I cannot do anything clinical because I am not. Clinical. Staff. That’s why they wear scrubs and I’m in business casual.

I am not trying to screw you over when I say I can’t discuss insurance with you. It is not just hospital policy it’s an entire law called EMTALA

Visitors: I’m gonna need you to put on your listening ears. When I say “I’ll open the double doors around the corner” to let you into the ER, that does not translate to “the single door directly next to you” just because that is the closest door you can see.

Visitors part 2: I don’t know who your mom is. She is not listed as “guy in tie dye’s mom” in our system. Tell me her name and I will tell you where to go.

I can’t tell you how long it’s going to be because I don’t know.

I can’t tell you when they’ll get your test results back because I don’t know.

If you leave your car running to come in and ask me how long the wait is, you are probably not experiencing a medical emergency.

A broken nail is not a medical emergency, especially when it didn’t even break past the quick. (yes this really happened)

Having “a glob of earwax stuck in your ear” is also not a medical emergency. (this literally happened tonight)

As a chronic pain sufferer, I completely understand that chronic pain can make you feel like you’re dying. I can see you’re hurting, and I sympathize, but you can afford a few minutes that someone who’s having a stroke can’t. Life or death has to come first, no matter how debilitating the pain is.

I know your self-pay estimate is unreasonably high. I know it’s ridiculous. What I don’t understand is how you can think that I have any control over that when I’m working hourly doing overnight registration.

Our doctors are not miracle workers. The meds we offer are not miracle drugs. Do not come back to the ER because it’s been 24 hours and you’re still having flu like symptoms. Sometimes time is the only option.

If you’ve been exposed to Covid, you tested positive for Covid, and you’re only having mild Covid symptoms, I truly do not understand why you’re standing at my window. You have Covid.

When I say “have a seat and fill this out, then bring it back up” that does not mean stand directly in front of the window and block other people while you fill it out. Peepaw behind you is having chest pain get the fuck out of the way.

You are a 32 year old man with a low grade fever and a sore throat, why the FUCK did you send your mommy up here to check in for you

I promise I will believe that you’re sick without you laying down on the floor in front of my window. The doctor will believe that you’re sick even if you don’t get up out of the wheelchair to lay down in the floor of the waiting room.

“I don’t need to check in I just need a work note because I was sick yesterday” no

“I just need a pregnancy test. I haven’t taken one at home but—” no

“Can I just get [insert piece of medical equipment]” no

“Can I wait in my car and y’all just text me when it’s my turn” no

I have heard someone tell me they feel like they’re going to pass out at least once a shift for the entire time I’ve worked here. Not a single one of them ever has.

Give your child medicine!! If you say she had fever we will not think you’re a liar just because the Motrin brought it down. We can see with our eyes that she feels sick we don’t think you’re trying to trick us somehow.

If you come in vomiting like you’re possessed and I can smell weed on you before you even get to the window, you are nooooot gonna like the diagnosis you’re about to get. (cannabis hyperemesis syndrome)

The main hospital doors have a big sign that says they close on the weekends and after 7pm in the evening. That big sign says to enter through the ER. I need you to read the words on the sign. I do not need you to tell me the main hospital doors are locked.

[meowymeowzers]

OwO? What do you take me for classpect wise? <>

alright :3 if anyone reading this is not familiar with homestuck/classpecting, i included a small glossary of important words.

i immediately ruled out the (both passive and active) destruction and stealing classes. this is prince (active destruction), bard (passive destruction, thief (active stealing) and rogue (passive stealing)

ive also ruled out aspects i view as logical, not emotional, which are light, time and mind. of course, time is also the destruction aspect, which simply does not feel right for you. i considered ruling out void, too, but did not.

at the moment we have exploitation, manipulation, creation, understanding, and embodiment classes.

im leaning towards a passive class, if only because to me you have never seemed like much of a fighter when not necessary.

now im ruling out rage and doom aspects, two aspects generally accompanied with well, anger and suffering. next goes breath, because you have always seemed like a leader (successful session leaders tend to be passive classes, looking at you karkat) that was one with their companions- not an independent figure that they simply look to for guidance.

we're left with space, blood, void, hope, heart, and life for aspects.

im going to knock off void, because while you are good at knowing and keeping secrets, it only shows itself in people you already know- not strangers. a void player would know anyone is keeping a secret no matter how little they knew them and how well they hid it.

next i remove blood from the cards. blood is the complete opposite of breath, meaning while you would have total freedom as a breath player, you would have absolutely none as a blood player. while you care deeply for your friends, blood showcases a complete dependency on them- at least in my, rather fanon, interpretation.

below, a list your possible classes (all are passive) and aspects:

class: page (explotation), heir (manipulation), sylph (creation), seer (understanding), and muse (embodiment)

aspect: space, hope, heart, and life

pages inspire others to use the pages aspect. it is, possibly, the most passive aspect that is not an embodiment class. this in between of regularly passive and the helpful passiveness of a muse doesn't seem like you- nor does the extreme slow build. im ruling it out, and seer for a similar reason-

seers are less of a slow build than pages, but knowing you, i think your knowledge of your aspect would be instinctual, even if much much more limited- even more so than a mage.

a sylph fixes their aspect. in kanayas case (sylph of space), she theoretically wouldve known how to teleport through space without harming it, or harming it the least. she could have mended rips in it, and could have made small pocket dimensions useful in frog breeding. you wouldnt have to worry about your aspect being harmed in the first place, maybe that reassurance is your inspiration reaching far into paradox space to insure it is safe, maybe its something else.

now, heir or muse?

heirs change their aspect, manipulating it and making it something easily manageable. of course, less so than a witch. lets use john (heir of breath) as an example. he can inspire change in the wind and in freedom, guiding breath while it guides him as well. hes constantly doing whatever the hell he wants, always being changed by his complete freedom.

muses are their aspect, in the most core manner. calliope, our only example of a muse, is creative in every way she can be. she becomes creativity to inspire through it. for not being an understanding class, muses understand their aspect in their core- even if it isnt conscious and more innate.

what was it again i said about you not being a seer because your knowledge was instinctual, not learned?

so, youre a muse. but what is your aspect....

space? ah, calliope. that wouldnt fit. you love drawing and writing, but you are not creativity itself. many think they are a space player because they enjoy the arts, but it is so much more than enjoying it, especially in the case of a muse.

a muse of life would be explained as brimming with life, never having a dull moment and always enjoying their life no matter what happens. i dont think that fits you very well, does it? everyone has their moments.

now...hope and heart. this is what ive been dreading the entire time. really, this couldve been a few sentences about you being a muse and the rest about hope or heart.

hope...you would inspire inspiration, basically. everyone looks to you knowing you can make what you want happen. because of your inspiration reaching everywhere, you could stare down the barrel of a shotgun and know you were to be saved soon. i always see an air of haughtiness behind the pure joy, the everlasting positivity. yes, you inspire people, but now you expect them to almost serve you. you believe you wouldnt even need to godtier, you wouldnt die because everyone loves you. i dont think you think like that, but maybe its the pale speaking.

muse of heart. you inspire people to express their emotions, becoming one with their inner selves. you help people bring themselves inner peace by helping them understand their turmoil.

youre the ultimate emotional support, the sessions crutch. and if you allow them to rely on you too much, they may become dependant on you- so be careful.

for fun, heres a muse of heart land i came up with: land of mazes and belonging. i can explain it more if u want me to :3

glossary under the cut

passive classes: classes that tend to strategize more than fight and normally do not engage in physical combat. generally better leaders than active classes. best example in canon is john egbert, imo

active classes: typically physical fighters, tend to wield their aspect as a weapon while passive classes use it as a shield. sometimes the de facto leader of a group, but in sburb they tend to fall out of this role with a passive class replacing them. best example is dave strider, with karkat vantas being a close second.

classes: one part of the classpect puzzle. sorted into groups of two, such as the destruction, stealing, and understanding classes. your class is how you wield your aspect.

aspects: the second part of the classpect puzzle. not sorted into groups, unless you count inverts- an aspects invert is its total opposite. they determine what your powers will manifest as.

[sharpinsurance]

How to Keep Your Home Insurance Current on Vacation

Taking a vacation is always exciting. Whether you’re headed out for an adventure, a family visit, or a trip somewhere warm, you’re going to be away from home for a while. Did you know that it’s part of your agreement with your insurer to have someone check in on your home? Insurance companies generally require a check-in every 48 to 72 hours if you’re away. If this isn’t done, you as the homeowner are at risk of a void insurance policy and potentially catastrophic repair costs. We’ll break down how to keep your home insurance current while

Why is my home insurance at risk of being voided? Home insurance is meant to offer coverage in the event of something catastrophic and sudden. That’s why it doesn’t cover regular home maintenance. When we purchase an insurance policy, we are inherently making an agreement with our insurance company. Part of this is ensuring our home is not left vacant for too long. Why? Vacancy means damage goes unnoticed for longer and it can also attract vandals, thieves, and other nefarious characters.

How often does a vacant house need to be checked for insurance purposes? How often should someone check your house when you are away?? Generally, insurers will require someone to check on your home at least once every 48 to 72 hours. You may also be required to turn off and drain the water if you are going away for an extended period over winter (and do not have someone living at your home full-time). The exact requirements vary by the home insurance policy.

How can I prepare my house before my vacation? While it is important to remember that every insurance policy is different, the majority of companies will call for similar requirements. Even if you are away for a small vacation, you are responsible for guaranteeing that your property will be looked over from time to time. Consider organizing a plan for a trusted family member or friend to come into your house every day while you are away to make sure that your house is in good shape. They should ensure:

Your heat is working.

There are no taps running.

There is no water in the basement or main floor (especially if it has rained).

Windows and doors are securely closed and locked.

Mail is picked up.

There is no damage to the exterior of your home from a storm or wind, such as loose roofing or fallen branches.

Concerned about pipes bursting? You could shut off your water supply and drain your pipes prior to your departure. Even though it might seem trivial, your insurance company wants to guarantee that it isn’t covering a house that is at higher risk than originally agreed upon.

The older your home is, the more beneficial it is to give your house a good once-over before you go. This is especially true if you’re leaving for the winter or any longer trips. Check your roof, your appliances, and so on to ensure they’re in good working order. Make sure your house’s doors are all locked when you leave, including pet doors and garage doors. This guide offers more thorough steps for preparing your home inside and out for your vacation.

How long can I leave my house unoccupied? Many people ask how long can you leave your house unattended, Many insurance policies impose a time limit on property vacancy, typically around 30 days. Exceeding this limit could render your policy null and void.

What are the home insurance rules for when I’m on vacation?

Duration of Vacancy: When your home remains unoccupied for over 30 consecutive days, it’s classified as vacant.

Policy Details: Dive into the nitty-gritty of your insurance policy. Understand the specific inspection requirements and compliance measures for your home, along with the permissible duration of vacancy.

Risks of Vacant Properties: Empty homes are magnets for risks like break-ins, vandalism, and water damage. Regular inspections are your shield against these threats.

Coverage Implications: Neglecting inspection requirements could lead to reduced coverage, policy cancellations, or claim denials if an incident occurs.

Consult Your Insurer: Don’t hesitate to reach out to your insurance provider. Clarify any uncertainties regarding inspection protocols and ensure strict adherence to policy terms.

By staying vigilant and implementing these measures, you can keep your home secure and your insurance coverage intact while you’re away.

Why do I need a house-sitter? There is a section in most home insurance policies that restrict how much an insurer is obligated to pay out if damages are incurred while a house is left vacant and unsupervised. It only takes an instant for a situation to arise, no matter how short of a time you are away for. Additionally, damages can be mitigated if they are stopped early enough – such as if a tap started to leak – but with no one to regularly monitor the state of your home these issues can grow out of control and cause some serious problems.

It’s not uncommon for costly repairs to arise due to negligence over a long period. But as long as you are up to date on the upkeep of your home and can demonstrate this to your insurer, your coverage should remain secure.

Vacation Planning: Navigating Home, Condo, and Tenant Insurance for Peace of Mind. When you’re planning a vacation, it’s crucial to consider how your home insurance, including condo and tenant insurance, fits into the picture. For homeowners, ensuring the security of your property during your absence is paramount. Before you embark on your journey, it’s advisable to notify your insurance provider about your travel plans. This can help in case of any unexpected incidents like burglaries or damages, as your provider can offer guidance on the necessary steps to take.

Condo owners should also stay informed about their condo association’s insurance policies. Typically, the condo association’s insurance covers the building structure, but personal belongings and improvements made to the condo may require additional coverage. Before leaving for your vacation, double-check your condo insurance policy to ensure you have adequate protection.

For renters, tenant insurance plays a significant role during vacations. It not only covers your personal belongings but also provides liability coverage. In case of an incident in your rental property while you’re away, tenant insurance can help safeguard your interests. Before you travel, make sure you understand the terms of your policy and have your insurance documents readily accessible.

In summary, whether you’re a homeowner, condo owner, or tenant, reviewing your insurance policies and communicating your travel plans with your provider is a prudent step before going on vacation. It ensures that you’re adequately protected and can enjoy your getaway with peace of mind.

Did you know? If you’re new to home insurance, here’s a quick fact: The average cost to insure a home in Calgary is $1,923, slightly higher than the provincial average of $1,837 per year. In comparison, the average cost to get a home insurance in Edmonton is $1,504 annually.

If you aren’t certain as to what your responsibilities are, consider reading over your home insurance policy. Alternatively, you could always ask your home insurance broker to clarify for you. By doing this, you can formulate an appropriate plan for this sort of situation.

ORIGINALLY FOUND ON- Source: Sharp Insurance(https://sharpinsurance.ca/blog/home/how-to-keep-your-home-insurance-current-on-vacation/)

[law-office-of-spiro-k-pistiolas]

Denied Workers’ Compensation Claim? Consult Our CA Lawyers

When you pay an insurance provider a premium, you have the legal right to expect that the company will manage and act in an honest manner to pay out on any true claims you may have. If they don’t do this, they can be held legally responsible for what they did.

Each state has its own workers’ compensation system to try to cut down on the number of cases between employers and employees. Workers’ compensation means that if an employee gets hurt on the job, they are eligible for financial benefits. In return for these sure benefits, they promise not to sue their employers if they get hurt.

Reasons For Denying A Workers’ Compensation Claim

An insurance provider has a lot of reasons, some of which are good and some of which are not, to say no to your claim. Here are some of the most popular ones:

Insufficient coverage: They may say that your insurance policy doesn’t cover your claim. Check the “Exclusions” part of your policy to learn more about what is not covered. If the policy isn’t clear, it is interpreted in favorable terms for the person who bought it, not the insurance company.

Application mistakes: An insurance company could say that you lied on your original claim form in a way that makes your policy void.

Claim errors: Check your insurance policy to see what you need to do to let the insurance company know about a claim. Some deadlines are only 24 hours long.

Insurance fraud: False or inflated claims can be considered insurance fraud, which can lead to both civil and criminal penalties.

Bad faith denial: They won’t tell you this, but an insurance company might give you a lot of confusing reasons for why they don’t want to pay the claim.

There are also other reasons why a workers’ compensation claim might be turned down,

Not enough proof or paperwork

Not telling anyone about the accident quickly or at all

Not going to a doctor that the insurance-provider has approved

Conditions that already existed

When Can I File a Lawsuit Against the Insurance Company?

Every insurance company owes its clients a lot of things. They have to follow the rules of the deal (the policy), act honestly, and not do anything that is unfair to the business. Most of the time, these responsibilities mean that the insurance company can’t:

The claim was looked into too slowly and not well enough.

Declining to compensate for a claim when it is pretty clear who is at fault.

Not approving or rejecting a claim within a fair or set amount of time.

Putting an end to a claim with very little explanation.

Not defending you in an insurance case where at least one of the claims could be covered by your insurance policy.

Refusing a claim because of a mistake on the application after the time for appealing has passed.

Contact Our Lawyers

If your insurance claim has been denied, the trial attorneys at Pistiolas Law may be able to assist you. To schedule a complimentary consultation, please call (844) 414-1775.

[union-of-mad-scientists]

"Alright, I will." She ruffles Xon's hair (or tries to anyway), and then approaches the person who looked the least busy.

"Hello! I am somewhat lost, do you know of a way to travel back to my timeline?" They ask, hoping these people speak English. Or Welsh or Laosian would be fine too, but those felt less likely.

The scientist blinks, and then presses a button on their collar.

"{What proof do you have that you are from another timeline, and not just some sort of spy or saboteur}?

"Well I did come through a door which I presume was not here previously," she points to it, "And importantly not through whatever your normal way is. Nothing that passes for security here was aware of my presence until just this moment - I passed no guards, no workers, no management. No One. If you have security cameras, they will not have seen me until just now. Not much in the way of physical objects though."

"{Hmm. Fine, that’s good enough for me! They don't pay me enough to care a whole lot}."

Merlyn grimaces. "Yeah, I hear that... *cough considerunionizing cough* But, anyway, do you know of anything that can help?"

"{Off the top of my head? No, why would I? That's still science-fiction stuff, over here. And besides, I'm a chemist, not a physicist}"

Merlyn sighs. "Right, of course. In that case, have you got any old machines or spare bits of funky substances I could use? I may be able to engineer something to help myself, if I just have access to the right materials..."

The chemist grins devilishly. "{Actually... several of our machines are old and in terrible condition, but the management doesn't want to replace them. Electron Microscopes are not cheap, after all. But... They are insured}."

"Oh, say no more, my friend!" She grins back. "Just point me at them, instead."

They do, and Merlyn makes short work of gutting all the ones she can for parts. Stuffing loose wires and such into her pockets, and grabbing everything that seemed even remotely useful.

Eventually, like some sort of bizarre reverse Santa, they were waving goodbye to the cheering workers with a bag of parts slung over their shoulder, and walking through the door back to the void corridor.

"If you play your cards right, you might get to go home early today! And Say I threatened to set off mustard gas or something, so you don't get in trouble for this!"

The door shuts behind Mer and Xon.

"Alright, now for the fun part! Building!"

[Xon slips into existence inside of the Metachamber, looking a bit frazzled and strange. She's pretty dizzy, for a few moments, but realizes where she is and looks around to gauge if Mer is in the immediate area.]

-- @xon-epgha --

They hadn't been, but Xon's presence in the metachamber activates an alert. She comes running only a minute later, the lab wasn't very far from the Metachamber.

"Xon!!!" Mer practically tackles her in a hug. "It's good to see you!"

[black-coffee-and-sugar]

Azie killed it!!!

me praising a supergirl episode? i know, shocking. but 6x12 just came for me where i live! i knew it was going to be great but it surpassed my expectations. sister are really doing it for themselves! so many things to point out that were phenomenal but here’s what comes to mind rn:

- the camera work while kelly’s all distressed at the hospital, lil joey struggling to breathe, orlando looking so helpless > i was already stressed within 5 mins

- rankin literally saying “i’ll do everything i can to help these people” while rolling away to her private hospital room with access to trial medication when the residents of the heights probably don’t even have insurance or money to pay the bills. also rankin literally sucking the life out of this disadvantaged community, building wealth and pushing her political agenda on the backs of black people is the most realistic portrayal of true villainy that this show has ever given us

- kelly’s phone call to james in the stairwell, talking about how exhausting it is was so personal to me. i work in these types of communities all the time and it’s a hard fight. i get emotionally tired too. it does feel like screaming into the void, like one step forward and ten steps back. and i felt this for kelly.

- alex’s solution is to send respirators and nothing else? just makes me realize that while the super friends were protecting mxy and trying to capture nxyly, they were pretty much neglecting the heights. people who were literally dying and it’s horrifying to think of where their priorities lie. especially considering the fact that they could have handled the nxyly issue without alex so she can support her gf

- writer 1: how do we make the audience hate rankin some more?

  writer 2: have her kill a guy for a sandwich on white bread. it’ll make her look like even more of an asshole

but seriously, what kind of psychopathic shit was that?

- andrea has always been portrayed a shameless capitalist who only cares about grabbing eyeballs but it has never been highlighted as negatively as it was in this episode in that phone call with kelly 

- i think kelly reaching out to lena who isn’t even in national city really speaks to her desperation to have someone see her. someone hear her. someone fucking help and i’m glad she had at least diggle’s support

- that slim stack of bills is all it took for that woman to sell her soul to rankin? bruh...

- the super friends showing up to the heights, only concerned with tracking nxyly, not giving any amount of fucks about what kelly is trying to say enraged me. i know that was the point of the episode but STILL

- kara telling kelly that mxy can fix all this once they get him out of the crystal. what are you five? give me a goddamn break with this foolishness kara! so lil joey’s lungs are just supposed to hang on til whenever the fuck y’all save mxy? lena, please come and collect your wife

- kelly looking directly at kara when she mentions the word hope while dragging the super friends for their nonchalant behaviour > oof, a slap to the face

- i see nia had the one brain cell this week. she’s the only one who attempted to help kelly in whatever way she could. 

- brainy really said racism is still a problem in the 31st century and it did not surprise me. 

- seems like having tunnel vision is a danvers sisters trait. i get alex not being able to relate to kelly’s struggle but come on she’s your girlfriend. can’t you tell when she’s upset?

- i’m glad that they addressed j’onn choosing the appearance of a black man and how even though he may have been a target because of it, he still can’t relate fully to the experiences like kelly, james and diggle can. it’s optional for him. they don’t have that luxury to check out whenever it suits them

- kara talking about the anti-alien hate with the col and i would like to remind kara that she genuinely thought things were improving and that the division didn’t exist despite j’onn and brainy repeatedly telling her otherwise. because, once again, her physical appearance affords her privilege that no black person or visible alien will ever receive

- every kelly scene was so emotional i was bawling wtf. her talking about pushing her pain and anger down and trying to be positive and all smiles > 100% accurate 

- i can’t believe i’m saying this but i did not need the lena scenes. they should’ve just kept those out. on the other note, magical amazon package delivery

- guardian’s suit is so fucking badass!!! i’m glad little black girls will feel SEEN and INSPIRED in this episode. thank you azie

- kara was really out there getting her ass kicked by a human who just got powers for a few hours? stop nerfing her abilities!

- the way we got an actual scene of kelly carefully wrapping her hair, the say her name t shirt, the books on the coffee table > well done azie

- alex and kelly in the final scene was a good portrayal of an interracial relationship where one partner wants to but just will never understand the issue fully. alex just needs to be there for kelly and i’m glad that they didn’t make it a moment to educate her white gf about racial discrimination. they kept the focus where it needed to be. i’m also  glad that unlike the other soical justice topics we’ve had,  they didn’t try to make it seem like something that is so engrained into the fabric of society can be wrapped up with a neat little bow and be done with. there’s more fighting to do but at least it seems like kelly will have the support going forward

- the promo after such a powerful episode gave me whiplash. back to our regularly scheduled nonsense i guess

This episode holy shit. man it was amazing. azie is a talented writer and it’s easy to tell that she was drawing inspiration from real and personal experiences. it was very easy for me to relate to these scenes, especially the hospital ones. also makes me annoyed because they’ve been wasting all this potential and this episode is proof that the show and it’s storylines can be nuanced and still include superhero aspects. too bad this episode will likely become one of few in this show’s entire run that actually accomplishes that.

[tohellandbackanthology]

TH+B August Update 2020: a lesson in cross-border banking that nobody asked for!

Hi everyone! We know it’s been a hot minute since you last heard from our team, and that’s because we’ve been hard at work behind the scenes on editing, prepping, and designing the anthology. It’s the less glamorous part of the job, but it’s also been super enjoyable getting to experience the diverse stories, podfics, and poems our authors have written just for this project, as well as the unique art pieces our artists have created. Everybody’s effort and unique imaginations are on full display here, and we can tell you with certainty that as a finished product, To Hell + Back is going to be an absolutely beautiful keepsake.

Now, to get the the nitty-gritty of where we’re at in our timeline: we regret to inform you that we’ve been experiencing ongoing issues with receiving the funds we raised from Indiegogo (more on that at the end of the post), and aside from the situation being a general pain in our collective butt, it poses a very real roadblock to our ability to order books and order merch until it is resolved. As has been our stated intention from the inception of this anthology, we're 100% committed to not spending any fan money until we have it in hand and are certain the total can cover all necessary costs—we want to make sure all project expenses are paid directly from our stand-alone project bank account whenever possible, so that they can be easily tracked and reported as promised. Accountability is key. 

All in all, we recognize that this probably isn’t the greatest news to hear, but we want to assure you that we are just as hard at work as we have always been, and we continue to remain hopeful that we will be able to ship these books out well before our new projected shipping date of December 2020 (as soon as we are ready, we’ll ship—we won’t wait around for December if we can get these books to you earlier!). We also apologize as a team for not having had an update for you all sooner--the information we were receiving around the Indiegogo disbursement situation has changed weekly and sometimes daily throughout the summer, and to avoid mass confusion we preferred to provide one in-depth and accurate post rather than multiple conflicting ones. 

This project has been, despite all the difficulties that we have encountered, an invaluable learning experience and a real testament to the spirit of fandom and fannish activities as a whole. We remain confident that you will have these books well before Supernatural ends, and we hope our anthology and the wonderful creations within will do our little corner of fandom proud, because we certainly are after having had the pleasure of viewing and reading such awesome stuff during our editing process!

As always, we are 100% committed to transparency and accountability surrounding all aspects of this project. Should you have any concerns or questions, please do not hesitate to email us or reach out to us via our social media platforms! In the coming weeks, please know that you can expect to hear more often from us; we plan to have updates out at least every two weeks summarizing our further progress, and we are hopeful that very soon, we’ll be able to tell you that our funds have come in and that we’re once again back in full gear!

Thank you so much for sticking with us! We’ve had a lot of ups and downs, but we couldn’t have done it without the tremendous support that you all have shown.

Hoping to send you some amazing books very soon, sincerely and with much love,

Your 8 Vancouver nerds!

If you’re interested in learning the fine details of why we’ve been having trouble getting Indiegogo to deposit the fundraiser money to us, please click, “read more” below!

As you may know, the To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology fundraiser officially closed on May 21, 2020. Indiegogo first attempted to disburse the funds to the bank account on our file on June 4, and on June 8 we learned that the disbursement had failed for an unknown reason. We immediately contacted Indiegogo about the return via email, as that is the only avenue they offer for customer support, and did not hear back from a representative until June 16. That person let us know that our issue required investigation from a Payment Specialist and escalated our inquiry to that department; we received our first message from the Payment Specialist on June 24. He let us know that the payment had been sent via the specifically American direct deposit system known as ACH, and let us know that the (Canadian) bank account lined up to receive it was likely not able to receive a special transaction of that type. We also learned through further conversation that Indiegogo uses the company Stripe as an online payment processor, and that they were unfortunately not willing to send the funds to us via another type of transaction such as wire transfer. 

With this in mind, financial admin @justholdingstill​ cracked open the proverbial books and started doing a whole bunch of research on Canadian banks and the kinds of accounts that can successfully receive ACH deposits, learning in the process that cross-border deposits like this are not something widely well-understood by the average bank call center representative. We also learned that Indiegogo had quietly changed the way that they disburse funds in December of 2019, and seemed to be fairly unfamiliar with their new process of making international deposits involving USD. After dozens of calls back and forth with various institutions (during the height of COVID staffing-impacted wait times, no less!), we finally learned that opening a small business bank account with the Royal Bank of Canada would provide us with the ability to receive the funds. To do that, we had to write a Memorandum of Association designating our team as a not-for-profit community group, and formally outline our stated purpose as well the rules and restrictions on our “business” covered by our mission statement. 

Once that was ready, we opened our project account on July 13 under the name Perdition Street Press, updated the information with Indiegogo, and on July 23, the funds were again disbursed to us. Problem solved, right?

Not exactly, as it turns out. Over the next few weeks, the deposit was rejected twice more by our new bank, this time with the feedback that the account information didn’t match, although we had provided Indiegogo with a copy of a void cheque to ensure no mistakes. The issue was escalated to an even higher level of payment specialist, and after some investigations involving both them and RBC, we learned that we would need to have our bank help us fill out a specific form containing highly specific cross-border banking information that we hadn’t previously been made aware of. As of today, August 17, we are now in possession of that form! Since the form asks for a Tax ID or a Social Insurance number, we are currently awaiting an appointment with a local tax advisor who specializes in working with not-for-profit organizations—she will be able to let us know how to proceed properly, without risking an accidental gargantuan tax bill for any of us as individuals. The money you all so wonderfully helped us raise isn’t income or profit for us, after all;it’s for covering the associated costs of producing and mailing books and merch and nothing else. 

After that appointment, which will be paid for up front by @destimushi​ & @justholdingstill​ and then reimbursed from project funds once received, submitting the e-form 1700 to Indiegogo should be the last and final piece of the puzzle, and we are hopeful that we will be FINALLY able to accept the project funds shortly after that—please stay tuned for more, and know that we are as eager to move forward with the production phase of things as you are! 

[jesuscrab]

Saints Row Reboot thoughts, again.

When the annoucment happend, i said that it's way too early to say if i like it or hate it. From a cg trailer and a minute of gameplay it's really hard to have an opinion, y'know?

But now we saw a little bit more of the game, and i wanted to spout my opinions in the void for other fans to enjoy.

Go under the cut if you wanna see. It's a bit of a long one.

First things first: THANK GOD, shooting is still arcade-y and dynamic. I was so scared that they gonna pull a gta and do me dirty.

I feel like i really enjoyed that gameplay footage. Shooting looks fun, driving looks fun, it's very colorful and stylized. It's a bit too cartoony, maybe, but i dont mind it that much. They didint show much of the activities, but they seem okay. Insurance fraud is back, we now have heist - witch i hope will be more interactive and fun then GTAV's heist, becuse they sucked major ass. I hope they will have some new activities, i hope we get to see return of some oldies - as the only genki fan in exsitance, i hope we get to see some sort of spiritual succesor to that. One that preferablly is not kinda racist.

I do like the aspect of building your crimnal empire from scratch. It seems that the player has at least some influance over how the gang progresses, how they take over the city, how the gang grows. I like stuff like that, it seems fun.

I saw a lot of pepole complaining about the health bars... i dont mind it, and also you can turn it off. It's weird that they appear on ALL CARS THAT YOU SEE, but i think it's just an early build bug, i dont think it's supposed to be like that.

Wingsuit tease at the and feels out of place, but i'll take it.

Now, for the concerns:

I am still salty about the lack of purple. Sure, the characters are purple, we have the classic logo, yada yada. But it still feels a bit eh. The game is so colurful already, why not more color?

Speaking about color, the map seems like straight from 2010, becuse it's dark brown and dust. I do love the western setting, it's unique and new, but when they show our characters riding outside of town it looks like some sort of post-apocalipse game. Again, hope it's not a GTAV situation, when half the map is just boring padding with uninteresting and unnecesary wilderness.

I am still scared of the story. SR3 had such a terrible plot that to me, ruined a lot of the experience with the game. They can't really show the plot off in trailers, i get that. The things they said seem... weird? Everyone memes about the whole student loan thing, and i dont mind it honestly, but like... whats the rest? Is it really just "hey we are in debt, lets make a criminal empire and take over the city?" there has to be more stepts then that. I Want to see the plot focus on the whole aspect of growing as an empire, to see our naive protagonist grow more attuned to the gangster lifestyle. Would be so cool! So unique! But yeah, i just want this game to have a good story, becuse that can really break a game imo.

It feels weird that they havent shown off the character creator. They said in an interview that it's gonna be bigger and better then ever, so i want to be excited, but my deep cynism feels like something is off, so im holding out still. I hope the editor allows us to make fat characters that dont look like cartoon blobs. This is litterally only thing i want, lmao. I dount they would re-implement the SR2's system of cloth layers, but it would be cool if they did. Again, probablly won't happen.

I want to see more in deapth exploration of the activites too. I get that they are saving it as a suprise, but i want to see whats new! I cant get exicted for the game when you dont really say anything, volition.

Closing thoughts: while i am still a bit sceptial about the reboot, i have to admit that i am alot more interested now. It does, in fact, looks like a saints row game, and i love those games.

I am not hyped, but i look foroward to future updates with... hope? Is that too pretentious to say?

I dont really care.

Did you read this the whole way trought? If yeah, consider telling me your own opinions, i am very happy to hear them always.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {2}

Jacob/Bella Twilight Fix-It Fic

Series Masterlist

A/N: Bella acquires some self-awareness. Team let all these characters say fuck. Again, if you don’t like it, don’t read it, this is just me screaming into the void.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment

Summary: Months passed since Edward left and Bella has finally reentered the real world, maybe Forks will be normal.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,478

Walking into school when I was aware of my surroundings was jarring after months of floating in existence. I muddled through classes, thankful that as a senior, most of my teachers taught in a lecture format and I could lose myself while they instructed, by now most had given up calling on me for answers. As I was packing my bag from English I heard a voice call my name. I snapped my head up, Mike stood in front of me. “What? Sorry, did you need something?” I asked.

“Are you working tomorrow?” He asked anxiously, every week he had asked this question. I had been answering on autopilot.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” I said with a shrug, I always showed up. Maybe in zombie mode, but I was there. And that paycheck was what would be filling my college fund. Or at least giving me a starting point for it.

“It is.” He nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer before he left the room. I finished packing up and wandered into the hallway. My first exchange with someone wasn’t horrible, but I dreaded the next with Jessica. She had been like a fly buzzing in my ear, but something told me that today, I would not be able to just tune her out.

I walked to my seat and glanced over at her. “Hi.” I said awkwardly with a small wave.

Her eyes widened for a moment. “Hello, Bella.” She stated in short accented bursts, but today, she didn’t give me a mindless deluge of her life. She remained silent, she stared at Mr. Varner as he lectured Calculus methods, but her eyes kept flitting over to me curiously. When class had winded down she turned to me. “Do you need help with calc?”

I gave her what I thought was a hopeful expression, “I need so much help.” Then froze, “With calculus, well with other things too, but that’s not your department.”

She chuckled. “I think I can handle calculus. I’m free tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I work tomorrow.”

She nodded, “Mike had said you were working at Newton’s.” She tapped her pencil on her chin. “We’ll figure it out, we can always stay late sometime to work on calc. The library is open until 4:30.”

I smiled, then the bell rang, the day was over, I had two conversations with classmates who probably thought I was possessed after the past few months, but it was progress. Maybe if I shared it with Dad, he’d feel hopeful. I drove home, the constant weight that had made a home in my chest had lightened. I was surprised to come home and see Dad’s squad car parked out front, he had been working later, I was used to being home alone until he came back from work.

He was sitting in his recliner when I walked through the door, his eyes closed and a quiet snore escaping his lips. I tried to tiptoe in, to let him get a half-decent nap in, but his eyes opened when I closed the door.

“Good day at school?” He asked groggily.

“It was a day, at school.” I shrugged, setting my backpack down and sitting on the couch.

He nodded, “I got ahold of the therapist, Dr. Theresa Gilbert. She said she can see you on Monday after school. We can drive up, we’ll get there by 4 and she said you could start with a session, see how you feel. If you don’t get along she can refer you to another.”

I nodded, one session to start, I could handle that. “Are you sure we can do this?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow. “Your mother and I talked it over, we can swing it, you’re on my insurance plan, it’s not the best, but it will be fine.”

“So I’ll just leave school Monday and drive up to Port Angeles?”

“I’ll drive you.” Dad stated, I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Bells, I want to support you, you can go in yourself, I can sit in the car and wait. I won’t go in unless you want me to.”

“Okay.” I murmured, sensing there was something more to his wanting to go. Not a ‘I’m going to ensure you go’ but more of a ‘I have to be there.’

“You have work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah, Saturdays are my day.” I nodded.

He let out a hum and stood up. “I’ll get dinner started. Let you know when it’s ready.”

I nodded and opened my backpack. I wasn’t worried about English or Social Studies, those two classes I could muddle through. But Calculus was going to be the bane of my existence. I continued working until Dad called me into the kitchen, it was spaghetti, a staple meal for him. Which, the past few months, I didn’t really notice how many times we ate it, but I imagine he did. “Dad, do you want me to start helping cook again?” I asked as I took a helping of pasta and sauce.

“Getting tired of spaghetti?” He teased, but added. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to take over. I can… get adventurous.”

I laughed. “I’ll start doing some meals, get some change in our diet.” I said taking a bite.

He smiled at me and we ate in silence. I washed the dishes before going up to bed, he turned on the TV to watch some game that was important to him. I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a deep breath. The throbbing in my chest was present again, my knees felt weak. It had been a good day, why now? I curled into a ball on my bed and willed myself to sleep. The dull throbbing lulled me to sleep as I counted my heartbeats.

Breakfast the next morning was silent, Dad had left a note on the fridge that he had to go to the station early. Forks barely ever had need of him this early, but after spending a year with vampires, I don’t know how much would surprise me anymore. I put my empty bowl in the sink and walked out to my truck. I let the engine sputter for a moment before it started, rap music started blaring through the stereo and I flinched back. When did I start listening to rap?

Mike was at the counter when I clocked in, “Hey, Bella.” He greeted.

“Hey, Mike.” I returned, putting on my vest and taking a seat next to him. “Busy morning.” I joked, gesturing at the empty store.

He glanced up at me, eyebrows almost in his hairline. “Yeah, busy.” He let out a small laugh. “How are you?”

“I’m here.” I answered, grateful for the bell to sound as a few customers entered. Mike nodded and went to help them. Early on, we learned that I was best at the cash register, and Mike was best with helping customers. Maybe that was just because I had been off this plane of existence for so long. But I was pretty hopeless when it came to the outdoorsy needs.

It must have been at least two hours that he spent going over different items with them before they finally checked out.

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a grizzly, that thing was bigger than any grizzlies I’ve seen.” The first one, a big burly man with an unkempt beard started, tossing his items on the counter.

“I doubt it, there’s only black bear up here, and they don’t get that big. You’ve probably only seen young grizzlies.” The other, taller and lean with tan skin stated, throwing his items next to the first man’s.

“I’ve seen a full grown grizzly, and whatever was in those woods had at least three feet on a grizzly.” The first retorted, handing me cash when I gave him his total.

“Bullshit, you’re acting like you saw Sasquatch. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you. You haven’t been the same since you stared into the sun.” The second teased, handing me his cash, a smirk on his face.

“That was years ago, and my eye sight is just fine. There’s a big ass bear in these woods.” Beardy grumbled, stomping out of the store to their truck.

“Don’t mind him, he always gets grumpy when we start trips.” The taller man said, taking his items and following the other out.

I glanced over at Mike who watched them leave then flipped the open sign to closed. He shrugged at me. “What? It’s not like there’s going to be a sudden raid for hiking equipment, especially with those two as our only customers. I can close up.”

“I’ll help, no reason for you to be stuck with the grunt work.” I stood from my stool and grabbed the broom. I started sweeping, I could feel Mike’s eyes on me. “You need something?”

He froze, his hand going behind his neck and he looked a little guilty. “We’ve missed you, Ang, Ben, even Jess, she won’t admit it.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “I guess I’ve been a bit of a hermit.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” Mike chuckled. “We’re here if you need us.”

I paused, taking in that statement. I had been so absorbed in myself the past few months, I honestly had forgotten what it was like having friends that weren’t…..them. I know last year I had been consumed by being a part of them that I had forgotten the people who were there for me first when I moved to Forks. “Thanks, Mike.” I continued to sweep, feeling a bit ashamed of the tunnel vision I had been in for the past year. The day I stepped onto the Forks campus I had been obsessed with him. And he didn’t want me, he left me, who was I without him? I finished up and gave Mike a quick goodbye, walking to my car faster than normal. I slammed the door and sped, well, moved as fast as my old girl would, and drove home. I made it halfway there before the tears started to fall. I pulled to the side of the road and threw the truck in park.

I pressed my head against the steering wheel as the sobs continued to tear through my body. I had given an entire year to him, lost myself in the fantasy of being his for eternity. I had been obsessed with immortality, the promise of never aging, never dying. And he didn’t want me, I was just a toy. I had served my purpose of amusement for a fleeting moment of his life, then I was thrown to the wolves. I almost died for him.

I froze when that thought appeared. I almost died…. For him. I put myself into danger for him. My blood was boiling, I had gone to that dance studio and been prepared to sacrifice my life. For what? A year, one fucking year and a few kisses. Kisses that were so controlled and choreographed they might has well have been a peck on the cheek. My radio broke me from my thoughts as a loud, angry song started. I looked over at my passenger seat, the old wrench sat there. Jacob had left it there, “Just in case the hood refuses to go back down, give it a good whack with this and it’ll be good as new.”

Jacob, I hadn’t seen him in a while… I shook my head and grabbed the wrench and slammed it into the radio. I kept going until the sound stopped, the radio that they had installed for my birthday was in pieces. I dropped the wrench onto the truck bench, I stared at the bent and broken plastic. The tears had stopped, the dull pain in my chest was back. I groaned, not sure how I was going to explain the mess I had made to Dad. A twig snapped in the woods to my right. I swore that I saw a flash of movement from the woods as I put the truck into gear. The two hikers had been talking about bears, maybe it was just a bear. Yeah, just a bear.

I tried to quiet my mind as I drove home, I thought today had been a good day, but breaking down in my truck and destroying the radio probably didn’t fit the definition of a good day. I had felt something though, months of floating in a void and I had felt guilty and angry. I pulled into the driveway, Dad still wasn’t home. I checked the messages on the phone, “I’ll be late tonight Bells, there’s leftovers in the fridge. Don’t worry about me. I’ll grab something when I’m home. Love you.”

That was something that had become more common in the past few months, Dad letting me know he loved me. He was always saying, love you, I love you. And I had started calling him Dad, not Charlie. Sure, it seemed like something that would be part of a normal father-daughter relationship. We weren’t normal, or weren’t, and now…. I might have been in another headspace, but somehow we grew closer. I walked up to my room, took a shower and crawled under my covers. “Please, just let me have a normal night.” I mumbled, and closed my eyes.

I was driving through the forest again. It was dark, the trees all looked the same. Every turn, it was the same trees. I glanced at the dashboard, the radio was back in place and the first verse of the song from earlier was blaring on repeat. The trees were a labyrinth, there was no way out. I slammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. Then I heard a branch snap and turned my head. And he was there, eyes crimson.

“Hello, Bella.” He sneered, I caught my reflection in the window. It was Grandma Marie’s face again. Blood dripped from his fangs. “I told you my world wasn’t for you.” He lunged and I woke up, my heart racing as I tried to catch my breath. I heard Dad shuffling by the door.

“Bella? You okay?” He called, he must have just gotten home, I glanced at my alarm clock, it blinked a one at me.

“Yeah, Dad, sorry, nightmare.” I called back. “Go to bed, I’m alright.”

He grunted, but I heard him shuffle to his room. What was he doing until 1AM? He used to work late when I was younger, I remember a few nights when he was home by ten, but this, something was going on. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. I just hoped that what was keeping him at work late wasn’t of the same nature as that keeping me awake.

[summer-jay]

Forfeit (Tommy/Alfie fic)

Ao3 Link

Summary: “What do you want, Alfie?”

The only reason Alfie glances at Tommy’s mouth that moment is because he brings the cigarette up again and wraps his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks as he takes the final deep drag. He probably lingers a second too long, because Tommy’s eyes snap down momentarily, and when they land on Alfie again, it’s a completely different expression Tommy’s wearing.

In which Tommy has to deal with his men's fuck-up and discovers many things about himself in the process. At some point, Alfie thinks it's about bloody time.

Rating: Explicit

A/N: For some reason, I’m really struggling with this one, but all the rewriting seems to be paying off. First chapter’s finally up!

Chapter 1: Speak (3028 words)

The warehouse is in fucking shambles.

It’s charred from ground to ceiling—what’s left of it, at least—oozing the sickly concoction of foam, water and ash from every crack. Nasty fucking view to have, this early in the morning. On the far side, the roof was blown to shreds, and the newly formed gaping hole lets the bleak London sun illuminate the space with sinister greyness and spiky shadows of the jagged remnants of the carcass. It could be almost nice, this exterior. Spiritual and apocalyptic in a way. But now the damp blackened wood sucks any redeeming qualities right out of the building and leaves it cold, dead and hopeless.

Alfie takes one last look at it and grimaces, getting in the car.

“Back to the office, boss?” Ishmael asks, to which Alfie responds with a little more repetition and emphasis than strictly necessary.

He actually preferred the sight when it was all jolly and alight mere hours ago. There was a serene pocket of time then, while the firemen worked to preserve the area around more than the warehouse itself, since Alfie could do nothing but observe the chaotic nature of the world make yet another demonstration. He didn’t know a thing back then. But he does now. And it leaves the same taste in his mouth as the stale scent of rotting wood and smoke.

It’s barely past seven when he instructs Ollie to make the call. Tommy must’ve been up and about for some time now, because he picks up immediately, and Alfie tries his hardest not to get any more pissed off at the whole situation than he already is. He’ll have to fucking deal with it now then. Fucking brilliant.

“He said he’s on his way,” Ollie appears in the door, and Alfie tears his eyes away from the record book that he isn’t reading.

“Hm. Alright then. Go kick those brainless fuckers back into our world in an hour. Ollie-” he calls when Ollie starts to turn “-leave ‘em intact for now, yeah? And tell David whatever I see on them, before Tommy Shelby arrives, yeah, I paint right back on his fucking face. With my own hands.”

Ollie furrows his brow but nods. Smart lad when he wants to be.

The door closes, and Alfie throws the record book on the table and falls back on the chair, stroking his beard absently and watching the sun rise higher and higher in the small window. Wrong day in every fucking regard, except, it shouldn’t be. Some months ago, he would’ve sunk his teeth into such a glaring opportunity to squeeze something more out of Tommy, just to see how far he could bend him without breaking. It’s a goddamn mystery why things have changed, although Alfie’s not quite delusional enough to claim he doesn’t know what exactly has changed.

He decides to wait and see. There have not been many fuck-ups on Tommy’s part in the past—none, in fact—and it makes him curious, despite the simmering irritation, to see what Tommy will offer.

                                                         . . .

For all Alfie’s tendencies to run his mouth like hell, he’s quite good at giving instructions, and, even more importantly, he’s competent enough to get them obeyed. He reaps the fruits of this ability now, when Tommy strolls into his office, fuming with irritation and knowing absolutely bloody nothing.

“So. Where’s the fucking fire?” Tommy asks as a way of greeting, letting the frustration into his voice, and it’s not that he can’t keep it locked away—he chooses to let Alfie see exactly where the fault with such scandalous disruptions of his morning routine lies.

Yes, that was definitely the right call to forbid Ollie to tell him anything over the phone.

Alfie looks up from the document he’s been staring at, taking in the sight.

Despite the pointed lack of urgency in his movements and the spilling annoyance, Tommy came. He’s sitting in Alfie’s chair now, guarded and so utterly stripped of control it sends a rush down Alfie’s spine. It suits him, this vulnerability. Makes him all sharp and volatile, and Alfie couldn’t deny himself this even if he tried—he wants just another moment of it to roll in.

He holds up a finger, taking his sweet time marking completely random figures on the paper with the air of undivided concentration, and Tommy predictably huffs, taking out his cigarette pack.

It takes a few minutes of silence before Tommy’s irritation starts threatening to break out, another minute he takes to wrench it under control. Alfie feels an infuriating urge to grin. Yeah, that’s Tommy Shelby alright, from head to toe, and it was a rather long time going about without him; so long, in fact, that something angry and hot curls in Alfie’s stomach at the necessity to deal with this ridiculous fucking situation right now instead of talking with Tommy like civilized people over a nice set of tea. Not that they’ve ever done that. Not that they will.

Right. Time for fucking business.

Alfie gives the paper one last dramatic swipe of the pen and looks up, propping his elbows on the tabletop and lacing his fingers under his chin.

“Chalton Street, actually,” he says easily, and Tommy’s hand pauses briefly halfway between the armrest and his lips. Alfie nods. “Yeah yeah, ‘s funny you should ask, mate, right, all that unsettling gypo foresight. You should’ve been a bookmaker or something.”

“I prefer not to tempt fate,” Tommy deadpans.

Alfie realizes a tad too late his gaze still lingers on Tommy’s mouth and jerks it up. “Mm, gentlemanly of you. Well, it seems to me, right, that she’d been tempted long before your intervention, mate. Cause she’s supposed to watch over fools, don't she.”

Tommy exhales the smoke slowly. “That’d be God.”

There’s the thing about Tommy—he bounces Alfie’s bullshit right back at him. Alfie feels dangerously close to getting lost in the banter. Which, as an absolute and extremely vital rule, never happens to him. It doesn’t help that Tommy’s bristling demeanour is now gone and forgotten, switching the gears in his mind to prying, negotiating and doing all other kinds of wonderful things that Tommy manages all at once when he smells fire.

Fucking bloody hopeless, Alfie thinks with marginal disappointment directed at his very self and cuts to the chase.

“Right, those new arrivals you sent, yeah, two of ‘em, they blew up my fucking warehouse tonight, mate.” It sits in the air between them for a second, Tommy still and blank as a sheet. Technically, no explosion took place, but it’s the result that matters in these things, innit.

“They got drunk,” Alfie continues, punctuating every word, probably more to himself than to Tommy, and fixes Tommy with a gaze he calmly returns. “On duty. On their shift. And decided to ease the inexpressible burden of sitting on your arse doing nothing, right, by playing with matches like little boys.”

“Was there anyone else with them?” Tommy asks without missing a beat.

“No,” Alfie lies. “Who knew they needed fucking grownups for supervision, fuckin’ hell, Tommy.”

It’s almost cruel, this satisfaction, when Tommy’s face hardens momentarily. He isn’t buying a word of it, and frankly, Alfie’d be fucking insulted if he did, but there is suddenly an infuriating void of retorts at his disposal, that is if he doesn’t want to dig this hole deeper. Tommy knows this. And he looks at Alfie in a way that very clearly conveys that he knows.

Alfie watches him flick his thumb across the edge of the cigarette for a while. Probably contemplating if he should push, if he has any leverage and, if he does, what it would cost him to use it.

“The insurance-” he starts saying after a moment, and that won’t do at all, that is not where Alfie wants the balance to reside for now.

“Fuck the insurance,” he scoffs. “It’s just un-fucking-acceptable. You send me men, right, Tom, and I put them to work, right,” he gestures helpfully, “and now I’ll need to attach my man to each your man like some fucking queer Russian doll, is that it?”

Tommy quirks an eyebrow. “Your men are not without vices.”

“My men, mate, those I find logistically more difficult to lay off.”

It’s an empty threat that Alfie half-heartedly expects to elicit a response. It doesn’t. Tommy blinks at the wall, unaffected and unimpressed to the whole world, except for how he clenches his teeth. It makes his jawline even more acute, and that, well, that might set Alfie on edge a little. How others fall for Tommy’s submissive charade is a goddamn mystery, because he seems utterly incapable of doing a thing with that cold piercing gaze that now ventures back to Alfie, not exactly shooting daggers but cutting alright. Alfie’s tempted to scold him a little more, figures that’s what drives him up the wall the most, just to draw a reaction. To see that fire spill over. He’s tempted to do many fucking things.

“Well, mate, what I tell you? No man is without vices, yeah.” He brings his hands back on the table, watching Tommy’s eyes track the motion automatically. It’s somehow getting the wrong sort of heated, this little domestic drama. Alfie resolves to ignore it for now. Needs to get to the fucking point. “Now, mate, can’t say I understand a thing about your lot in that town, batshit crazy stuff you do, yeah. But for the sake of our shared human nature, right, flawed and all, I might be inclined to let it rest, so to speak, in the ashes.”

“How fucking kind of you,” Tommy says evenly. He resolutely maintains eye contact, and fucking hell, if that’s his negotiations look, Alfie will blow his own bakery and find early retirement somewhere on the seaside.

That’s a kiss-with-a-blade-under-your-chin kind of look. It’s as if Tommy knows Alfie’s provoking him and absolutely can’t help it anyway.

Alfie realizes he got a little sidetracked and stopped talking altogether only when Tommy speaks up, on the exhale, a couple of long seconds later.

“What do you want, Alfie?”

The only reason Alfie glances at Tommy’s mouth that moment is because he brings the cigarette up again and wraps his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks as he takes the final deep drag.

It’d be a fleeting look, if it were any other fucking day under the sun. But now Alfie finds himself strangely fixated on the picture. He probably lingers a second too long, because Tommy’s eyes snap down momentarily, and when they land on Alfie again, it’s a completely different expression Tommy’s wearing.

Confusion. Inhale. Decision.

Then Tommy leans back on the chair and tips his head back slightly, suddenly almost bored.

Alfie normally prides himself on being a professional reader of men’s minds—never women’s but who the fuck is—and it still takes his powers a second to comprehend the sudden shift in the air.

“Well?” Tommy says, voice going lower than the intonation dictates, and deposits the cigarette stub on the edge of Alfie’s desk. “Let’s get it done.”

Let’s get what done, Alfie wonders, what the hell has Tommy got into his head this time, until, in a blazing, surreal moment, it hits him.

He realizes two things, to be precise, which would be three things if he chose to lie to himself about being oblivious to the very first one all this time.

He wants Tommy Shelby. He’s wanted Tommy fucking Shelby for a rather inconveniently long time, rather desperately at that, and he’s getting hard just sitting across the table from the arrogant fucker, because Tommy’s irritated, Alfie’s no better, and this whole thing suddenly looks much more appealing when he imagines it culminating in fucking rather than shooting. It’s not a problem worth freaking out over, in Alfie’s mind.

But the fucking, though, Tommy here thinks it to be the payment. That is the second thing.

What do you want, Alfie?

Alfie starts moving before reasoning manages to stop him—and not like it’s a rare occurrence. He circles the table, led by a sudden angry impulse to push, see if Tommy would actually go through with it, cause that, right, that wasn’t what Alfie meant by that fucking stray gaze at all. But it’s burning right through him, now that it’s on the table.

Tommy looks up at him through his long dark lashes and stays just like he is, open and tense. Tenser still as Alfie shuffles into his space, squeezes between him and the table, legs touching. For a second, he’s so stiff it feels like he’ll shatter, like a fucking ice statue, from the mere touch.

But Tommy doesn’t move. He blinks slowly and breathes heavily in the sudden silence, solidifying Alfie’s third insight.

Tommy Shelby would let him.

Alfie’s heart is pumping molten lead through his veins, and it’s simultaneously heavy and unconscious when he brings his hand down and strokes Tommy’s cheek, taking a hold of his jaw to tip his head even further back.

To shock him out of this glazed state he seems to be sinking into. To touch him. To push him until he does break, because this is just a stupid fucking assumption to make that Tommy would whore himself out for business, not to another man.

But Tommy doesn’t move at all. He seems to be falling in the precise opposite direction of Alfie’s whirling thoughts, going more wide eyed and responsive, and, by the looks of it, almost fucking surprised. At what exactly, Alfie can’t begin to contemplate.

Tommy lets him maneuver his head up and stares back, unblinking, pupils blown like spilled gunpowder against the bright blue. Alfie swipes a finger along his cheekbone. Tommy doesn’t bolt. Alfie steps closer, kicking Tommy’s knees apart, watching every muscle twitch on his face, waiting, nearly fucking snapping-

But Tommy doesn’t bolt.

He draws a shaky breath instead and says, with what sounds miles away from cold indifference, “I don’t have all day. Get a fucking move on.”

Alfie barely holds himself back from slapping him, because what in all circles of hell does that boy think of him. Tommy’s not a complete fucking idiot, after all. He must understand Alfie, among all the things that he is, is not that kind of a man. But here they are.

Alfie suddenly becomes acutely aware of his fingers on Tommy’s skin. Funny how this particular setting—Tommy under his hands, under him, with eyes burning and lips parted so prettily—would put him in a much less conflicted and a much more aroused state just a day ago. Just a fucking hour ago.

Which is not to say he’s not aroused. He’s fucking aching. But Tommy doesn’t want it now, except as a retribution for the cock-up Alfie can’t even clearly recall at the moment.

Alfie drops his hand so quickly, Tommy’s head bounces slightly before he catches himself. More confusion. Darting eyes, calculating what he’s done wrong. It’s not particularly difficult to return behind the desk, although Alfie’s body is screaming at him to come back, pull Tommy to his feet, tear that coat off and make Tommy come so hard he’ll be only able to see complete fucking darkness for minutes.

But as Alfie sinks into the chair, the picture of the guarded, enduring void in Tommy’s eyes makes him shudder with disgust.

Jesus Christ.

“What-” Tommy begins and stops when his voice fails him. He clears his throat, miles and miles away, composed and distant once again, and Alfie doesn’t even want to look at him now, isn’t sure it won’t shower from his eyes or something.

“Reckon a bakery in Birmingham would be fine,” he blurts out, inevitably turning to watch Tommy as he draws his eyebrows together. “Fine location, innit, secluded, far from any semblance of law or morality, yeah?”

“A bakery.” Tommy swallows, clearly trying to be inconspicuous about it and failing.

“Right, a small one, from your pocket and all. Would serve your men well, to learn some bloody discipline. Could relocate those two excuses for workforce of yours there, spare us all the necessity to behold their fucking faces.”

Alfie doesn’t need a bakery in Birmingham. Hell, of all the things he hoped to get out of this whole ordeal, this wasn’t even remotely close to the list.

He fumbles with his rings absently while Tommy gets busy picking himself up and straightening his coat.

He considers saying something. Easy and dismissive, something along the lines of ‘nah, you misread it, mate,’ which would be simple enough and also absolutely fucking ballistic, because admitting anything out loud at this point feels like a death sentence in neat handwriting—very tiny and very lethal.

By the mortified look gliding across Tommy’s face for a second as he swipes a hand over his face, he knows damn well he misread it.

“Right,” Alfie mutters to himself and then repeats, loudly enough to shake the whole damn building, “Right. So it’s settled then, yeah, no hard feelings. With the bakery, that is.”

“Right,” Tommy echoes. He sounds strange, almost lost, although it would’ve been impossible to notice if Alfie’d known him any less.

When Tommy goes to leave, Alfie doesn’t stop him, although the impulse, for some fucking reason, is there.

He slumps down in the chair, draws a long, deep breath and tries to process what has just transpired. In particular, what that look on Tommy was, right before he gracefully stormed out of his own fucking shipwreck.

Alfie can’t seem to find a place for his hands; he keeps shifting around, the persistent sensation of rough stubbled skin under his fingertips unchanging despite the position, until he jolts upright and grabs the cigarette that witnessed all this chaos with dead silence.

Alfie’s powers are suddenly kicking back in to tell him the fucking look was one of disappointment. Which is complete and impossible bloody horseshit. Unless, of course, it isn’t. And in that case, opening a bakery in Birmingham is a bad, bad idea.

[eighthxjune]

aixa writes black people + love #1 marriage: What are we subscribing to?

A couple years ago I caught up with a friend days before his wedding.  We chatted about our families, friends, the nearly ending summer and the marriage he was about to embark on, specifically why he didn’t believe in it.  The construct of marriage wasn’t something he regarded as true - a sentiment he openly shared years prior, even to his then girlfriend.  Though I respect his nonbelief, I didn’t understand how someone who feels that way would propose marriage at all.  “Because that’s what she wants.”  He insisted.  A thirty something year old Black man, who grew up in a two parent household and doesn’t think two people could be monogamous, was about to walk down the aisle and promise ‘til death’ to a woman who holds opposite views about matrimony.  So, what exactly is the basis of this foundation?  Because appeasing her want to get married won’t anchor ‘for better or for worse’.  Especially when her views don’t reflect his.  Whose vows are actually being honored here?  And moreover, why has society placed so much pressure on us to say “I do”?

For years we have all watched marriages grow together, fall apart, make unbelievable sacrifices, fail miserably sometimes disturbingly, and if we’re completely honest with ourselves, very few of them - possibly less than that - pose as a desired goal.  And I’m talking about the relationships we actually know, not the ones curated on social pages.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually would like to get married, well at least I wholeheartedly used to.  In these four chambers right here lives a blissful fantasy, to be swept off my feet, by a knight in shining armor whose self-assurance brings forth mental, emotional and physical stimulation.  But, when it comes to relationships I question whether it’s important to have a marriage or companionship.  Is a legal union even necessary if you have a committed companion?

Until the 16th century there was no Christian sacrament of marriage.  Saturninus, St Bernard, St Paul even Jesus damned marriage altogether.(1) One of them claimed it perpetuated the deviltry of women, being able to dominate men through the magic of sex.  When marriage did gain acceptance by the Christian church, the first rule - invented by men - insured monogamy.  An inferior move because men were considered powerless without a woman.  Prior to, in matriarchal societies, women were free to change lovers or husbands, but men weren’t into the loose and flexible arrangements favored by Goddesses.  There was this intense fear of women, and many men believed they should seize every possible advantage in forcing wives to be faithful.(1)  

So, the Anglo-Saxons created the original vows stating that the bride, not groom, be “bonny and buxom” meaning meek and obedient.  As a rule, women were driven into marriage by social pressures that made spinsterhood less attractive economically.  Patriarchal laws took property out of women’s hands and placed it in the hands of men.  Unmarried women became as helpless to support themselves as wives were.(1)  

Yes, women, we are that powerful, and the assumption that men and women weren’t viewed equally is still a battle today.

My parents have been married a little over 40 years, and they’re a remarkable team when you think of a partnership.  My father, the provider knows how to build and maintain a sturdy house, and my mother, the nurturer can turn any house into a home.  They love, and ride hard for each other, always making family a priority, creating a happy and healthy home.  And if that’s what today’s marriage is all about, they win, ten toes down.  However, I sometimes wonder how much of who they are individually has gotten pushed aside, ignored, neglected in order to care for their family.  They were raised like most old school Black American families: go to school - get a job - get married - buy a home - raise a family, raise them in church if you want them to be favored, and that’s it, that’s life.   Sounds good, right?  A solid and durable foundation to support others.  Yet, the tale I live in looks forward to a whirlwind of romance - one that makes me feel like I’m dancing among the clouds, one that could be the title of an Anita Baker track.  Otherwise, I’m honestly okay courting life joyously alone.  And much rather if my happiness is compromised.

My friend’s nonbelief in marriage isn’t rare.  As a matter of fact, we all recently became more acquainted with the term “entanglement”, when Jada Pinkett Smith described a relationship she had outside her marriage, and how something as such can arise when you’re seeking yourself.  If we actually lived life as our truest selves, in pursuit of our own happily ever after, we would be happier or simply just happy.  

I’m certainly not against marriage, as a formal recognition, but I also don’t think it’s for everyone, and shouldn’t be held as a societal standard.  It’s a very intimate commitment between two people.  Yet, my hope is that if you do decide to find yourself in a relationship, arrive intact, not relying on someone to fill a void, heal your trauma or mask the part of yourself you don’t like.  Be honest about what it is you value and what you can offer in a companionship.  Stay true to your wants and needs,  because your truest self is where your power lies.  

Take care of yourself.

(1) The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker

[a-student-out-of-time]

Twisted Sister Arc Review Part 1

Hi guys I’m the Anon who does the reviews around here…guess you could call me the Review Anon? Wonder what the lore behind me would be…anyway that doesn’t matter! Point is, I have an Arc to review and Jesus is this a big one. So big that A) I’m doing submissions (with permission from the Mod of course) and B) I’m splitting the review into 3 parts. Heavy Arcs are Heavy and a LOT of stuff happens here so let’s get right into it!

So, the parts of the Twisted Sister Arc are first the Massacre, second is the Mindwipe and third is the Prison Break. Last one doesn’t start with M but I’m not doing rhyming here, but that’s enough time wasting let’s get right into it~

Massacre

Easily the darkest part of the Arc but given the Arc is basically Kanade being a Slasher Killer here, what do you expect? While Danganronpa is a franchise about murder, and we had serial killers in it both canon and fanon the nature of the Killing Game means that a full-blooded mass killing akin to many slasher films hasn’t really occurred in the franchise before. This makes Kanade’s bloody rampage here even more disturbing, as while we have had mass killings before, see Mukuro’s rampage through Giboua Middle School in Killer Killer, those are established as backstory drops for the characters, we never actually see one being carried out in action. And going back to that massacre, Mukuro only did it because Junko thought her sister’s killer intent might have slipped and it’s to prove to her she is still a killer, but here Kanade is killing for cold blooded revenge. And she doesn’t just kill a bunch of randoms as she brutally murders Iroha, Peko, Akane, Nekomaru, Sonia and Kokoro very brutally and very effectively. I knew something was up given that the entire school went into lockdown and all the fighters from Class 77-B were geared to fight Kanade to the death, and Kanade is such a pansy of a fighter that Sonia beat the living shit out of here, and Syo was taken down by the QC, and we all know how terrifying Syo is. But once the bodies started to drop, I knew that the first time that Hajime would reset on purpose was coming up and there were so many questions. Who set Kanade up for this? Someone had to be helping her…. but who and why? Juu could have let her out but he couldn’t have supplied Kanade with her tools and intel (more on that later) so it has to be someone else.

Within the darkness of this timeline there is of course your heroes. There are those like Peko who got a lucky shot on Kanade which set a chain line of events leading to Kanade’s death, Mikako who made Kanade’s injuries worse and Kokoro who stabbed Kanade in the eye. But those small victories led to total loses as even if Peko didn’t die, she would be crippled for life and moreover she failed to protect her classmates from Kanade’s wrath, and Mikako lost her mother, just as she started to finally connect with her. You may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned two names yet, and that’s because they deserve their own paragraphs, I am of course referring to Nikei and Hibiki.

I’m gonna start with the next person who attacks Kanade and that is of course our Journalist boy here. To say this day has been terrible to him would be a massive understatement as one minute he is suffering an energy crash from downing one too many Red Bulls and having lewd thoughts, to running faster than if he happened to be in Mexico (Seriously, if you happen to be a journalist just don’t go to Mexico) to Hope’s Peak and thanks to Ankle Effects, arriving alongside Hajime to a bloodbath. There’s his constant refusal to accept that Iroha is killed, even though we as the audience knew that given Iroha tried to stop Kanade as soon as she arrived at Hope’s Peak and that Kanade was seen by Sonia and co chopping up security guards, the likelihood of her survival was next to none. This carries on from the conversation Nikei had with Yoruko in the previous Arc where he still believes he is dangerous and that he doesn’t see the other Voids as friends or equals, but rather he took the role as leader because he wanted to have power for once in his life, something he alluded to in the Void Theatre during Chapter 5. However, his reaction to Iroha’s unknown safety, and eventually the truth that Kanade really did butcher the poor painter, proves otherwise. While Nikei’s relationship with his fellow Voids canonically won’t get revealed until LINIQ decides to get around to doing the Onmake mode, in which one of the stories in that is going to be about Void pre Mikado- with someone, most likely Nikei, being the POV character, here the fact his first thoughts upon finding out his ‘little sister’ is dead is to disregard the no-killing rule and just beat Kanade to death, proves that he does care about his fellow Voids, but is in several layers of denial. Out of all the Voids, Nikei is easily the most guarded and paranoid of the lot, and while the others have loosened up around Hajime and co, Nikei still has a lot of inner demons he has to deal with before he could truly open up to the rest of the QC. And Kanade chopping his right hand off, doesn’t help matters though I do give Nikei credit that unlike in the OG timeline, where upon his right hand been blown up by his exploding gun, he just broke down crying, here, he tries to carry on the fight regardless, or he would have had the other person I need to talk about didn’t show up. This is pretty important to establish that while most of the Voids now are pretty far removed from their canon selves and are unlikely to regress back in that, Nikei is still closely tied with his bastard canon self and more work needs to be done for him to detach from that.

But moving on from someone who needs to get some work done, let’s move onto someone who has seen the natural conclusion of their character development, Hibiki! Ever since Hajime and Chiaki rescued Hibiki from her twisted sister (*rim shot*) back in July, she has been making a ton of progress, firstly coming to terms with what Kanade did and her true nature, developing friendly healthy relationships with Class 77-B, the QC and of course a romantic relationship with Hajime. It seemed kind of cliché for Hibiki to fall for Hajime but then again a) Danganronpa can be cliché at times and B) As a Danganronpa Protagonist Hajime cannot turn off his swag. Then there is her officially joining the QC, learning how to fight and being a complete and utter badarse and a caring lover when needed as she confronted Hajime back when he died the second time. We all knew it was only a matter of time when Hibiki had to confront her sister and when Kanade broke into the school, we saw fully, how much Hibiki has grown in the past 3 months. The old Hibiki would have curled up in a corner terrified, crying and probably going into the Puppet State. Here though, Hibiki’s FIRST THOUGHTS upon finding out that Kanade is more dangerous now is to done some armour and get some weapons, and face her sister head on with no hesitation. All without going into the Puppet State at least once, which probably means that its more or less gone now. Kanade tried to talk her sister out of fighting her, but Hikibi isn’t buying Kanade’s insurance anymore and a fight breaks out. If this ever gets animated or becomes a visual novel, I would love to see the Hibiki vs Kanade fight animated as its brilliant, its epic and it’s just so satisfying to see Kanade getting the living snot beaten out of her. You could argue that Nikei’s mauling of Kanade was like that but there, Nikei was more or less in grief due to Iroha’s death and the whole thing was as painful to watch as the final fight in Captain America: Civil War, not saying what because spoilers ahoy. Here though is a glorious battle, as Hibiki gets to deliver justice onto her demonic sister and it is SO SO satisfying, given that a reset happens shortly afterwards.

And sadly, with that, we come to easily the weakest part of not only this part of the arc, but the arc overall, Yasuke’s multiverse theory. It could be written better, and even the Mod agrees that the way it was presented shouldn’t have been the way it worse, that having Umeko throw some ideas at Hajime and him coming to the conclusion that they might have been living in a multiverse be better narrative then Yasuke be like ‘Oh hey I am suddenly an expert on Time Travel now’. It would make Hajime breaking his no kill rule that much more impactful as he doesn’t have the excuses of not only Nikei’s who was currently going through a mental breakdown, and in the current plot where Yasuke more or less planted the seed of doubt in Hajime’s mind. Yasuke still has a role to play in this arc but during the Massacre timeline, I feel like he could have been removed entirely from the plot and not only would it have made no difference, but then most readers wouldn’t be complaining about it as much as Yasuke being a general A-hole wouldn’t tick them off. I’m not saying ‘THIS IS AS BAD AS ONCOMING STORM’ as that Arc was just a giant clusterfuck of a mess, and aside from this one part, the arc is very strong overall, but I will give criticism when due. I’m not mentioning my thoughts on Yasuke as a whole here because he’s more relevant in other parts of the Arc. However, Hajime killing Kanade and himself at the same time is brilliant and seeing Kanade begging for her life as Hajime throws her out of the window is so satisfying given not only all the crap she has been dealing up until that point, but also because in SDAR2, she was 100% fulfilled with the events at that point and given it was HIBIKI who was begging for her life then, let’s just say karma is a bigger bitch then Kanade is.

And that concludes the Massacre part of the Arc as Hajime kills himself and Kanade at the same time and he goes back to just before Nikei started to have indecent thoughts. No time to look at the 3rd page of the national newspapers’ boy, we got a serial killer to stop! And with that I’m stopping here as the Massacre part is finished. But this review is far from over, this is just here because otherwise my, the Mod’s and everyone else’s brains won’t be able to process all of this. Stay tuned for part 2 when we cover Kanade’s capture, a scrum debate among the QC and a bold move by the Mod which I do wish will come up more! Until then, Adios! - Review Anon

//Part 1 of 3

//Finally get to submit these

[memoirsofabasicbitch]

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.

[tsukuna]

Side by Side

Summary: You wandered into Red Grave City to warn the “Legendary Devil Hunter” of a certain… negative shift in the area’s energy. It was an energy you knew to be demonic, and it grew stronger by the day. But on your way to meet with the intermediary, a noisy bird caught your attention. A noisy bird that would bring you to a frail man on the brink of falling apart.

Rated M • Female Reader • Before the Events of DMC V• Under the Cut • Part 2

The news began to speak of the Qliphoth, or the “tree shaped object,” that emerged in Redgrave City. No one, from the average citizen to local police, had a clue that a powerful demon lurked inside. Despite repetitive warnings to take shelter, crowds loved to gather around the base and just stare. Ignorant fools, all of them. 

You observed the horde from a helicopter heading into the den. There was you, V, and Dante of course, but an additional two women accompanied. One had short, ebony hair and an eye of green, an eye of red--not to mention an enormous arsenal. The other was a near carbon copy of the woman you saw on Dante’s desk, and she smelled like a demon. Frankly, it was all perplexing, but you assumed questions would receive no answers. They are beautiful though. You admired their deadly radiance.

While the three demon hunters chatted amongst themselves, you looked to V. His demeanor was entirely muted, and his face showed little expression. There was a decent understanding between you too at this point though, and you could tell there was anxiety building in him. You would have given him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder; however, you had a feeling the gesture wouldn’t be too well accepted.

“So,” the black haired one drawled. “Who are you?” She eyed you rather intensely.

You introduced yourself. “What about you two?” You looked back just as intense. The names Lady and Trish rang out. “Your names are pretty,” you smiled softly.

“Pretty?” Trish was surprised by the comment.

“Mm,” you affirmed. “I wouldn’t have guessed them. But they match perfectly.”

“Ahhh, so you think we’re pretty, huh?” The girl named Lady tried to tease.

“Extremely,” you said with confidence, not allowing yourself to show embarrassment.

Both of them seem more than satisfied with your answer. “How come you never pay us compliments, huh, Dante?” Lady complained.

“I don’t want to inflate the egos of two crazy ladies anymore than they already are,” Dante replied with a shrug. That seemed to spark an impassioned, yet silly argument. It was an interesting display of friendship for you. I never knew it could seem so… fun.

The light air wasn’t meant to last though. Once the helicopter landed, it was business. “Hey, Dante,” Lady spoke up. “I haven’t even heard the target’s name yet.”

“Uuh… hey poem kid,” Dante seemed peeved.

But in juxtaposition, Griffon began to laugh, “Hee hee hee, that’s our wise guy Dante! What a memory! V, he deserves some praise.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the bird. So extra.

“... some said, it is Urizen.” It was a name you proposed after you met up with Dante before the trip.

“How about Urizen?” Those deep green eyes looked at you with a curious expression. “I read the story in your little book,” you explained.

“Ah yeah, right.” Dante seemed less than enthused. “Urizen, Urizen. You people keep it in mind for me.”

“Not a problem,” you whistled a tune while exiting to wait outside Devil May Cry once again.

“I’m surprised you remembered the name,” V admitted.

“How come? I spent quite some time reading the book while waiting for you.” There was a small pause before you giggled. “I was even pleasantly surprised by how soft your hair was. I thought about doing a little braid.”

“I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” V placed his palm on his face, but it didn’t fully hide the amused smirk on his lips. In spite of what was about to go down that night, you were glad you could provide some bit of comedic relief.

The skepticism on Trish’s face at the name made you a tad nervous, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t bring it up.

“Looks like the party venue is still open,” Dante announced as you made your way into the Qliphoth.

“Shit, gross.” Your nose crinkled upon moving forward. But why does it seem similar to V’s faint demonic scent?

Lady affirmed, “Oh, it stinks in here.”

“I know. Smells like hot garbage.” Dante fanned himself with an irritated expression. But was it truly irritation, or something else? You couldn’t help but remember his reaction to the true name of the demon. Vergil.

V suddenly crumbled forward, and you caught him just in time before his whole body hit the (disgusting) bottom. His face looked similar to when he was on death’s door. “V?” There was no hiding your concern.

“This is far worse than I thought,” he whispered underneath his breath.

There was no time for questioning before Dante called out. “There’s no crime in turning tail. These things might be a little too much for ya.” He continued to walk while looking at him, hands cooly in his pockets.

“... you’re right.” V gritted his teeth. “I’ll leave the rest to you.” He turned on his heel, leaving both you and Griffon to stare in disbelief. Immediately, the demon flew over to question him in a panic.

Dante’s eyes turned to you. “What about you?”

You did consider your two options. You knew you could fight, and you could tell they needed all possible help. But could V make it without you? It seemed as though his health took a turn for the worst in the blink of an eye. “I’ll go with him, just in case.” Dante nodded before waving goodbye unceremoniously.

It was only a short jog before you caught back up with V. “One must always have an insurance policy,” he told Griffon. Strange. V acknowledged your presence with a nod. It let you know you weren’t unwelcome or a hindrance to whatever he was planning. Had he not given you the clear, however subtle it was, well… you supposed you would’ve turned back to rejoin the other there.

“What do you mean, insurance policy? Wait… Do you mean that brat?!” Griffon quite literally screeched. “Hey, hey… he got his right arm lopped right off,” he tried to reason with V. “He won’t be of any use in battle!” V mumbled some sort of reassurance to him, citing the blood of Sparda. It offered Griffon no comfort. “I said not to fall behind Dante, right? And then you just leave! If they kill him while we are out fetching some greenhorn, we’ll...” the little demon trailed off.

V glanced back. “That… won’t happen. I think.” It appeared this situation was worse than imagined.

“Perhaps I should’ve gone,” you thought aloud.

“I believe you would’ve died,” he paused. “And that would be rather unfortunate.” While V often omitted aspects of the truth, he didn’t seem to lie about what he did choose to reveal.

You, Griffon, and V made your way back to Morrison and the helicopter. His expression was confused. “Well, that was quick. Where’s Dante?”

“Inside. Send the helicopter now.” It wasn’t a question.

“Right now? And send where?” Clearly, the intermediary was puzzled.

“Fortuna,” V stated.

Fortuna--it was a place you heard about in passing. Rumors of mass destruction caused by demons and the existence of cults in the obscure city floated about. Is this where that “brat” resides? The entirety of the Qliphoth was once more in view. It was a disappointment, leaving before you had done a thing about the demon within.

Clearly, V noticed your irritation. “It will be solved in time. It must.” Though he said that to you, it also seemed like he was reassuring yourself.

“I simply wish it will be sooner rather than later.”

You fell back into a lull of science. Until the pilot broke it with annoyed chatter about these “boonies” having no heliport and how he’d have to look for a little landing spot.

“There is no time. We’ll meet below. I’m going ahead,” V prepared to jump from the helicopter, causing the pilot to panic even further. He turned to you and offered his hand. You hesitantly took it. You had a suspicion Griffon would be the way down, but you were skeptical on how well he’d do with carrying the weight of two people.

You clenched your jaw when the air initially hit your face. “God, fuck.” V seemed to laugh under his breath at you before pulling you a bit closer to make Griffon’s job easier.

“While I don’t mind helping out because, y’know, my life counts on it… try not work me too hard,” Griffon bitched. His complaints were met with no words of remorse.

Before your feet hit the ground, V began to discuss his plan. “I’m going through the window.”

“Alright, I’ll wait outside.” The distance to the bottom wasn’t far, so you let go, landing on your feet softly enough. At least I’m stealthy.

Over 15 minutes passed before your ebony-haired companion made his way back down. You looked around for whatever it was he came for. “He’ll be here shortly.” So it IS the brat.

The rattling of metal had you turning around, your eyes catching sight of a boy with blue eyes and silver hair--very similar to Dante. He looked to V, who he already met, then you with skepticism. Regardless, he moved forward to join you. “You’re telling me that’s our ride? Talk about posh.” When you looked at the city streets you assumed that yes, it was posh in comparison to what other residents typically saw. “...Don’t get it too close, the others will wake up.”

V was irked by the comment. “Do I look like I can contact it right now? Try jumping and telling the pilot in person.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other boy rolled his eyes. The conversational-less void quickly turned awkward, unlike the time you typically spent with V. You knew nothing about this boy though, and it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t semi-interested.

While still staring forward, you said your name. The boy turned to you with a questioning look. “Your name?”

He seemed to consider whether or not he even wanted to give it to you at first. “Nero,” he finally said.

Immediately upon landing in the Qliphoth, Nero seemed ready to rush in. But V warned him of the danger that waited. Shortly after, a gurgling sound came out from what you noticed to be Shadow’s “liquid” form. “I’m leaving,” V looked over his shoulder. “I doubt you two would get lost here, but still… I suggest you do not fall behind.” And so he did go ahead, using Shadow as a mode of transportation.

Nero’s face soured a bit, making you release a short laugh. “Not very personable, is he?”

“I can agree to that,” Nero grumbled. It wasn’t long before demons began to spawn, creating little roadblocks in your path. “Get behind me.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need protection, y’know?”

“I don’t see any weapons on you,” he eyed you.

You sighed. “Why must one waste energy and space by carrying physical items?” You gave Nero a peace sign before allowing white-gold light to envelop your hand. With a small shake, the glow around your hand turned to light throwing needles. “You take care of half of them, I’ll deal with the rest from a distance for now.”

The demons crawled closer and he grudgingly understood there was no time to ask more at the moment, but oh man, you knew it’d be constant interrogation once there was time. Whatever. A disgusting creature with both the face of a man and an ant’s body caught sight of you. You lazily threw a needle at it, watching it explode once it was pierced between the eyes. They were clearly bottom of the barrel demons. They were quick work for you, and clearly Nero as well who finished shortly after you.

“So you gonna tell me what the hell that was about?” He placed his shoulder across his back as you two continued walking.

“Don’t think that’d be right,” you drawled, “I haven’t even let V know yet, and I’ve been hanging out with him longer.” Nero huffed. “But I will let you know that light exists to extinguish this darkness.”

“How poetic,” he rolled his eyes, which warranted you to bump you first on his head. “Hey! What the hell?”

“Don’t be a douche, Nero,” you stuck your tongue out. “But y’know what? I won’t give too much away from myself, but I have to say, for a kid with one arm, I’m rather impressed by your sword skills.”

“Tch. You should’ve seen me when I had both,” it was funny how quickly Nero could go from brooding to cocky.

A sideways smirk spread across your face. “Would’ve loved to spar with you and kick your ass.”

You both continued to banter and deal with anything in the way. It was actually fun, and, surprisingly, the pair of you laughed together. It took no time for you to see V in the distance once again.

Nero stepped forward. “Huh? What, did you come back?”

The comment undeniably miffed V. “I told you, had I not? Your presence is needed.” You still didn’t quite understand why he needed Nero. He was strong, yes, but he still only had one arm. And if the reaction V and Griffon had earlier meant anything, this demon was far out of Nero’s league.”

Speaking of the devil (or rather the demon), Griffon piped up. “Hey, hero, you do know your role, right?” Nero quirked a brow at the bird. “What I’m saying is get going. We’ll take care of the grunts.”

“Whatever,” he turned around. But then he called out your name, which had a surprisingly colloquial tone to it. “You coming with?” Dante asked the same thing, and you would give the same answer.

“This seems to be your fight,” you shook your head. “I’ll stay back and help here.”

“Gotcha,” Nero nodded and began to move forward.

Griffon cackled, “Fast friends, huh?”

“He’s a funny kid. But how about we focus on the issue before us, hm?” The demons, which Nero had let you know were called empusas, bubbled up.

“Work, work, work!” Despite the complaint, Griffon charged then released cracks of lightning onto the demons. “Fuck yeah!” Huh, I guess I never saw what he did. The bird then chided V for not helping.

“Don’t rush me,” he voiced as he pierced one of the empusas. “Garbage.”

“He, he, that’s the spirit. We gotta catch up to the kid! Even she is helping out!” Griffon was ranged, you noticed, so you took a more melee stance this time (as opposed to your strategy alongside Nero). Instead of conjuring the needles, you created an elegant scythe of light. While the hacking and slashing was entertaining, being splattered by rancid demon blood was a major downside.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you at least wiped it off your face. V looked at you, startled and speechless. “No time for a Q and A, we’re needed ahead.” You grabbed his (warm) hand and began to run forward. “I can tell they’re right up there!”

The first thing you saw was Nero already bloody and beaten. “Fuck, Nero!” You rushed towards him and continued to scan the scene ahead of you. Dante. Lady. Trish. All of them lying on the ground in defeat. The demon, the monster, who defeated the famed devil hunters sat at the far end, appearing bored on his “throne.”

“He lost?! How did this happen?!” Griffon’s panicked screeches rang in your ears. “Oh no… oh no… This is it. This is the end.”

V softly murmured “Dante…” It was as if that conjured him back from the grave.

“Round two!” He transformed into a devil right before your eyes. Who the hell are all these people I got involved with?

“Heeey, what do we do?! We could lose an arm too V!” Griffon flew around anxiously. “Earth to princess V! Get yourself together!” You joined his chorus of yells, however… the words did not reach his ears. Tears rolled down V’s face and you realized just how dire this situation was for him.

“V!” You and Griffon shouted, but he continued to stare ahead. “V!” This time you took him by the shoulder and began to turn him around. “We need to go!” His eyes finally came back into focus and he nodded.

“Get Nero out of here! This was a bad move,” Dante yelled out.

“I can still fight,” Nero screamed in response but you were already beginning to pick him up and drag him away. “Tch, shit, back off!”

“You’re just deadweight!” By expression alone, you could tell that Dante’s words reverberated through his whole being.

Even as the ground collapsed, Nero shouted, “Quit messin’, back off!”

“We have to leave here!” You and V both tried to shake sense into the boy. “He’s far stronger than we could’ve imagined…!”

“That bastard called me “dead weight”?! Don’t underestimate me!” Nero screamed out Dante’s name.

Your eyes widened with shock as V threw Nero against a wall. “If you’re frustrated then think of ways to get stronger!” You had never heard his voice ring so loudly. “If Dante loses… I need you to defeat Urizen.” Nero’s face was full of scorn, but he seemed to finally give up fighting you and V off.

“Yes Urizen, the demon king…” He’s the demon king? Fuck. “That’s the name of the demon who took your arm,” V explained to Nero. It was news to you that it was Urizen who stole Nero’s arm. First question you had was why? What was so special about his arm that the demon king needed it to ascend? Perhaps I can barter information with him another day. I’m sure we shall meet again.

A crisp snap cut the air, and suddenly the black from V’s hair dissipated, leaving only white behind. An enormous creature crashed down and busted the rocks. Its appearance seemed to be made of rock (though that would be too simple) and it had a single eye. Another of V’s familiars, huh? But unlike Shadow and Griffon, especially, it didn’t seem to have any conscience. “This is Nightmare,” V  whispered to you. Good to know he thought that you may want that information.

The descent was over and once the familiar gurgled away, V’s hair became black once more.

“Where’s Dante? Hey!” Morrison exclaimed, voice full of confusion.

“He’s buying us time.. But it won’t last long,” V answered smoothly, not showing his despair to the other man.

Morrison was stunned. “Dante lost?!”

[thesaltyace]

big rant/ramble below, you can safely ignore and move on to the next post in your feed.

Urgh

I shared the results of that autism screener with a quasi-friend who I thought would be "safe" (we used to work together and we connected over his being gay and me being visibly queer) but his response was blergh

Everyone has hints of autism.

okay yeah but this isn't just *hints* of autism. I'm answered yes to symptoms I've had since I was a kid that I've learned to mask or work around as an adult. But I still struggle with them.

He pointed out that he sees me as more ADHD than ASD.

Yeah, fair, and I'd need to see a professional to try to distinguish if my symptoms are ADHD, ASD, or both.

You don't hit the three prongs needed for a diagnosis.

But.... but I do. And the stuff I dealt with as a kid is still stuff I deal with today. I just mask it better. A short and not exhaustive list:

As I kid I had trouble interacting with peers. I didn't have friends, really. I didn't know how to make friends and I didn't try terribly hard to. I acquire friends when someone else "adopts" me and decides that we are friends. And once I became an adult, I have almost never had friends of my own - I share a friend group with my spouse who we're primary connected to through him. I'm okay with that. Maintaining a friendship entirely on my own power sounds impossible and exhausting.

I was okay with not having friends, I liked being alone, but my mom insisted on me being social. She made me join things so that I would have a list of people to invite to parties. I'd honestly have preferred a day of doing stuff I like or just a couple friends. As an adult, I want to be alone on my birthday. I will celebrate with certain friends, separately, usually over a quiet meal. That's it.

I had trouble understanding sarcasm and figurative speech. Like, I understand it now but I still think most figurative speech is annoying. I've been told the way I deliver sarcasm is weird, too.

I liked memorizing movies and quoting them start to finish, I thought it was fun but everyone else thought it was weird. I continued to do this into adulthood but I only quote aloud when I'm alone. Alamo Drafthouse quote-alongs are the BEST. I don't do this with every movie, either, just ones I really like.

Okay actually I also liked to listen to the same album or, in some cases, the same song over and over until I was sick of it (and sometimes even after that point). I mean, just endlessly looping on repeat. Not interspersed with other songs. I do this as an adult a LOT because it's easier with headphones to do this without annoying everyone else around you. Like, often it's fine for me to just put a playlist on shuffle, but I get into Moods where I just want the one album/song over and over. Yesterday I listened to Wellerman about 50 times in a row and only stopped because I had to get up and do something else and that song wasn't "good" for whatever I got up to do.

My special interest as a kid was cats. Literally everything cats, all the time - I sought out obscure facts and could tell you the difference between similar species, and wanted cats involved in literally everything I did. Adults laughed it off as childhood obsession. I was also pretty obsessed with the solar system. I thought asking my peers, as a trivia question, which of Jupiter's moons had its own asteroid (Io, in case you were wondering) was appropriate and interesting and was confused that they didn't know that. That was in fifth grade.

I watched the weather channel for fun. I would watch it for hours and absorb the weekly forecast info just... for fun? I never used it, could never tell you if you should dress a certain way or bring an umbrella or whatever. Everyone thought it was weird.

I was a know-it-all and literally could not stop myself from bluntly correcting people who were wrong. Didn't know or care that it was "rude". I'm still that way but I've learned how to sometimes swallow the urge long enough to find a more tactful way to point it out (but often fail).

I could read on my own before kindergarten, used vocabulary beyond what one would expect for my age, and had a special interest in spelling and grammar throughout my school years. I did not understand how other people weren't interested in learning about it and getting it right. I read at an undergrad level by 4th grade.

I hated loud noises and often covered my ears to block out irritating sounds. I could also hear high pitched noises that even other kids didn't seem to hear (or at least weren't bothered by them). Too much noise sent me into an internal meltdown, I'd just kinda shut down because I couldn't deal with it.

Textures and pressure on my skin bothered the absolute fuck out of me - sock seams, certain fabric materials, socks that weren't equally elastic, one shoe tighter than the other, tags.... all of that. (Also, fun anecdote I just unlocked - when I was 4 or 5 my grandmother started letting me use the soft silk sleep shirt she had as a young woman because I preferred it to anything else. Soft, smooth, no irritating qualities. Bliss. I wanted to wear it all the time.)

Don't get me started on food. Until I was in COLLEGE I mostly subsisted on pasta with either butter or alfredo sauce and chicken. I would eat other things, but pasta and/or chicken was (and still is) my biggest safe/comfort food. I'd eat other stuff mostly if I could control the balance of ingredients, get it made plain, or could confirm the texture wouldn't be offensive (so, like... plain burgers, plain cheese pizza, grilled cheese, mashed potatoes, etc.) I cannot stress this enough - from childhood through COLLEGE I did this. As a kid my mom had to make me a completely separate dish most nights to get me to eat something. My spouse was horrified at what little variety I ate. The only reason I eat so much variety now is that he knows what I do/don't like and tells me in advance if I'll find a texture or taste offensive. Of course, rather than wanting consistent texture like I did when I was younger, I now seek as much texture as possible (so long as they aren't Bad textures) so.... that's fun. But yeah most of my objections to Yucky foods is due to T E X T U R E. Even if I like the taste, the texture overrides it all.

I prefer animals to people. I will seek out animals and interact with them instead of people in the same room. And will pointedly focus on the animal to avoid interacting with people.

I'm perfectly happy with only myself for company. Being with just my spouse counts as me being "alone" though. Always has. I just realized last night that it's because I do minimal to no masking around him because he's a safe person to unmask with and always has been. Never batted an eye at the weird shit I do beyond asking questions about what I was doing or why. And then just "Okay."

Okay honestly just the fact that I want to vent into the void of tumblr instead of actually discussing this with a person - even my spouse! - pretty effectively shows how little it occurs to me to interact with other people directly. o_0

And there are so many more things that I won't list here because I could just go on and on. And like, sure, some of this may certainly overlap with ADHD but my point is that I have enough to point to ASD that it doesn't feel like having a "hint" of autism. And who knows - maybe it is mostly just ADHD and CPTSD stuff interacting in weird ways. Could be!

But just because I can make small talk and make eye contact and do the "normal" shit and I can interact "normally" doesn't mean I LIKE it. I had to LEARN to do those things to avoid having bad social interactions. When I'm by myself or with my spouse, I behave very differently than I do around anyone else. ANYONE. It's not just slightly changing my behavior depending on who I'm with - it's completely suppressing how I naturally would do things if left to my own devices.

Like, the things we recommended to our autistic students who wanted to know how to interact in ways that would help them blend in/be accepted by others ARE THE EXACT THINGS I ALREADY DO. Like, it did not occur to me at the time that neurotypicals literally do not have to think about doing those things. I thought, ah, these students just need to be told what the tricks are. Other people figure these tricks out on their own. It did not occur to me that other people, in fact, do not learn these tricks because they naturally do that behavior. They do not have to actively think about learning the trick, period. I literally thought other people also have to think as hard as I do about interactions. Evidently not.

So yeah, I'm feeling a little upset about the reaction I got from him because I'm like.... honestly, a diagnosis of ASD wouldn't change a lot about how I do things or think of things. But it would make me feel better about interacting with and participating in autism-related stuff if I am actually autistic. I realize I can use the resources and supports meant for ASD regardless, and for formal supports anything I can access due to my ADHD diagnosis likely covers anything I'd need for ASD. But having a diagnosis opens up more community. Right now I'm like yeah I'm ADHD but I totally relate to this ASD content. But I'm not going to interact much because I feel like I don't have the right to join in since idk if I do have ASD.

idk I have a lot of feelings. I had a bad email about the trans insurance coverage thing yesterday and I'm not in a great headspace, but finding out me and my spouse both scored very high on the autism screening stuff was honestly a high point because we ended up sharing a lot of how we view and interact with the world that was very eye-opening about why we interact the way we do, how we relate to others (and how other people think we're weird for how we relate to others), and just...everything. And having someone be skeptical after I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I DON'T have ASD only to conclude that at the very least, I should probably be evaluated because I can't reasonably rule it out. Like, most people do not wonder if they have autism. The fact that I am spending this much time looking into it and trying to find examples to disprove it only to find I overwhelmingly can't in virtually every single diagnostic category.... just..... dismissing it outright is kinda hurtful.

Like, I recognize that ADHD symptoms overlap a fair bit, but seriously. My spouse (who definitively does not have ADHD) scored almost identically to me and we vibed on almost everything when we compared answers. We see most things similarly. We have similar areas of confusion about other people and for fundamentally similar reasons. I can't imagine all of the stuff that points to ASD for me is just ADHD in disguise, not when I vibe THAT HARD with someone else. Spouse does not vibe with me on ADHD content. At all. He can appreciate it since he does live with me, after all, and observes whatever's being discussed. But he doesn't vibe with it. He vibes with autism content, though. And I vibe with both.

idk this rant ended in rambling and I'm just going to go listen to Inside on repeat for a couple hours while I try to calm down a bit. o_0