#but im not about to pay 22 dollars

[presidentcircles-assistant]

spherius…

[g0ldenbritney]

TATE LANGDON ABCS (sfw)꧂

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN🎃..sorry i skipped some letters im a lazy bitch

A = Affection

physical touch for sure, playing with your hair, holding your hand (or holding pinky fingers because thats cutesy as fuck), kissing cheeks and noses (im a SUCKAA for nose kisses and so is he<3). Im just imagining you leaning in to kiss his nose, but he thought you were leaning in for a lip kiss, and it ends up being kinda awkward and you bump into eachother😭😭. Tbh i can’t see him being great at communication especially because he’s a literal teenage boy but though he might now be able to say it he can definitely show it with acts of service like helping with chores

You were at school, trying to focus on your worksheets and actually listening to the teacher speak about..whatever she was teaching, all you can think about is getting back home and all the homework and fuckin chores you had awaiting for you.

once you did get home, you opened the front door and you could smell how good the house smelt, on more exploration the entire house was cleaned and all your chores were done. You walked into your room and your homework was completed on your desk..i mean all the answers were wrong but its the thought that counts.

B = Best friend

Im going with alive Tate for this, I have a mood board on Pinterest for this!! (adrienjoyer)

Sharing cigarettes, sharing cds, sharing shoes, sharing clothes, FREE RAIN OF HIS STUFF. He will let you have anything, need a pencil in class…actually he doesn’t have one either but he will scavenge around for one—and if he only finds one? It’s *our* pencil now. (i need to smack that mans ass on the stairs) (i do that to all my friends) Oh? You have 10 bucks? Well he has 7…that mean its OUR 17 dollars to spend on pizza

(based on a scenario that actually happened to me LMAO 😭😭)

It was late at night, you both were hanging out at your house and it was like 2am, suddenly you both have the craving for pizza..you both counted your cash and quarters, you had 13 bucks in total so you thought a small pizza would fine..yeah no. Tate called up the local Pizza Hut and ordered a small pizza with nothing but cheese and pepperoni and it was 22 FUCKING DOLLARS?? And so you both ran around the house looking for quarters…

you ended up paying the money in quarters to that poor pizza delivery girl at 2am.

C = Cuddles

Depends on how he’s feeling tbh, i can see him as a chest layer. Lying on your chest as you stroke his hair, or the other way around he would be just fine with that as well.

D = Domestic

OF COURSE!! I can see him totally wanting that but like..not till he’s like 30. He wants to do all this stuff first before he settled down, but he definitely wouldn’t mind a partner..some kids, a dog maybe. He’s pretty good at cooking, if you count Kraft mac and cheese and grilled cheese or really anything with cheese.. (the man likes cheese what can i say) and he REFUSES to use a dishwasher, he will be washing dishes old style and you cant stop him.

E = Ending

no.

G = Gentle

Sometimes he might go to far, if you two are just friends and hes joking around and he actually hurts your feelings he would squeeze your shoulder and tell you a quick “sorry.” And it usually makes you feel better. He is very gentle with you when you’re having a bad day maybe just upset or stressed about exams he will maybe rub your shoulders or something and maybe get you to laugh to calm your nerves. If you are in a good mood, hes still gentle, holding you, holding your hands, being careful.

H = Hugs

He loves them!! I dont even care what you have to say or as much as he tries to push you off when you hug him he LOVES HUGS. If you two are just friends and you hug him he might be a little hesitant but he will hug you loosely back. This is totally pointed towards me because im very physically affectionate with my friends and hug them after school everyday, if you, like me, run up to him at his locker and basically throw yourself at him he will laugh and let you hug him and yap. If you’re dating and you hug him he will definitely hug you back and kiss your head :)

I = I love you

He thinks the whole “3 month rule” is bs. He’ll say that shit whenever he wants to. If he wants to say “I love you” immediately after you starting dating god damnit it will happen!!! He definitely says he loves you if you’re just friends to

J = Jealousy

Actual jealous baby

Im just imagining someone flirting with you in class do you immediately tell him as soon as you can because you tell him everything and he genuinely TWEAKS THE FUCK OUTTT, like hes actually geeked

like wdym someone else might have a little crush on you…NO. That person will become his biggest opp and you are told to stay away.

You were in 1st hour and you were assigned partners, luckily you knew the person you were assigned with thought they were a little strange…but they started subtly flirting you. They said sorry for being awkward and they “get nervous around people like you” which sounded like a flirt to you

so when you got to lunch, you immediately told Tate, he literally could run to that kids class right now and fight but he just whips his head around at you

“I hated that guy anyway…stupid.”

K = Kisses

Can range from sweet little ones to full blown makeouts hickeys..he prefers sweet ones on the face in the daylight but at night this man is freaky asf. His kisses are soft and slow but he can be a bit quicker if you really want him to

Q = Quizzes

he had a notebook for stuff about you, if you accidentally drop a little fun fact about you he will know about it and he will write it down, ranging from your favorite juice or if you have a mole under your jaw. He knows it all. If he ever forgot anything and i mean ANYTHING about you I dont think he would forgive himself

T = Try

Tbh i dont think he would put a lot of effort in, he just likes to be around you. (Though the mcdonalds dates are FIRE.) he likes having sleepovers with you at tour house only, watching movies, eating snacks till you feel ill, cuddling, if you’re down to get Applebees that would be even better and you would both ask the waiter for the gummy sharks in your sweet drinks separately (yes ive done that before). But if you really really wanted anice romantic date maybe he would give you flowers or something

U = Ugly

Nail biting (you put bandaids over his nails so he’ll stop :)), excessive social media usage (this guys is chronically online holly shit freaking 4chan user), ive always imagined him little tics, like twitching when hes anxious.

X = Xtra

i want to bake him a cake

Z = Zzz

THIS MAN CAN NEVER SLEEP ISTG

he tosses and turns but no matter what he cant sleep without you or if you give him a stuffed animal

OHH MY GODD IF YOU GIVE HIM A STUFFED ANIMAL I CANT

imagine him holding and cuddling it, and i know this doesnt relate to sleep but imagine him being all sad and crying into it because it reminds him of you😭

[pixelephant]

ok long ass paragraphs of nuance time

so i totally get why watcher has made this decision, running a creative business on youtube is difficult because algorithms are fickle and views are SO obviously geared towards just when shane and ryan specifically are in content. they can’t branch out into new ventures and cast members and ideas without taking a huge monetary risk of if people will actually watch the damn thing. so streaming gives them that opportunity because no matter the viewership, they still get that income.

but on the other hand, the lack of diversified content is exactly why im hesitant to pay money for the service. there’s just not much there outside of shane and ryan led shows. don’t get me wrong, love their stuff! but if i’m paying for a service, i’d prefer it to be something i can go to for a variety of things.

it’s a catch 22 imo, can’t diversify without the money, can’t get the money without the content they know gets them the views, and so it goes back and forth ad nauseam. personally, i can’t see myself immediately paying for it, but maybe in a few months time when they have that freedom to actually change up their roster i’d be more interested

okay shifting gears, not to be the guy that compares this to rooster teeth and dropout but im gonna be because people are picking one or the other to support their own argument and its bothering me. "rooster teeth proved this method doesn't work!" not true, they shut down because they were owned by warner brothers, a big media conglomerate that doesn’t care about restructuring something to make it work, only dollar signs (while also not exactly being well known for being the best at handling their money). i still think rt could’ve continued to exist in a different capacity if they had never sold to wb (and didn’t have so many scandals) but i guess we’ll never know.

“dropout proves that this system works!” also not true they offer VERY different kinds of content (game shows, story based stuff like d20, pure improve comedy, etc.) from what watcher is doing, they are not a one to one. also as good as they’re doing now, they’re still kind of recovering from the verge of bankruptcy, trying things out, seeing what works. the system itself is not a guarantee for success.

all this to say i get why some people hate this decision. it’s yet another subscription based service to pay for in a media landscape that is frankly too rife with them. it makes things once free now costly. it puts exciting content behind a paywall that some people genuinely cannot afford.

but the people making the exciting content need stable jobs. the company needs a consistent cash flow to be able to pay their employees and continue making cool and interesting things. they can’t rely on the fickleness of youtube views, algorithm changes, and third party sponsorships at the pace they’re going (which is also part of the problem, they grew to fast and honestly set too high a standard of content from the jump for how early into the company they are but hey let’s not go on yet another tangent).

i think the announcement as a whole could’ve been more successful if it wasn’t hyped up ahead of time and/or if it was a more gradual shift to paid shows than a ripping of the bandaid. i also think essentially saying anyone can afford it for $5/month is a bit insensitive so now people are just grasping onto that instead of discussing the reasons for the change. but saying, “a majority of your audience is broke college students this isn’t the move!” isn’t gonna help or change their decision. i’m sorry but they don’t care. companies are not your friends.

[hulahoopsoupgroup]

ive ranted about this to my friend like 3 times this week but ill rant again because im just so fed up and angry.

21st century american capitalism is so dismal. we put everything behind a paywall. you cant exist without paying money and you cant go anywhere or do anything without paying.

you have to pay to be born and you have to pay to survive. if you cant pay to survive, you have to pay to die. theres no escaping it.

most jobs in the usa require a college degree, but a lot of people cant afford to go to college. its honestly infuriating that people cant get the jobs they want because the education is so expensive. why do i have to pay tens of thousands of dollars to the government so i can get a job that will probably only barely keep me afloat in todays economy?

why do we pay writers and artists so little when they are one of the most vital parts of society. where would we be without the painters and authors who create beautiful scenes and impactful stories?

weve overcomplicated society so much that you have to jump through so many financial hoops to just, exist. you have to have insurance for everything. everything costs so much. why do i have to pay over 2 dollars for a bottle of water at work? why are the bags of candy 5 dollars?

all of this just makes everyone miserable, no doubt. i had a conversation with 5 other people and all of us have had severe depression/anxiety, had to be medicated, or needed a lot of therapy/not been able to afford it. and im not stigmatizing therapy in any way. if i could afford it, i would absolutely go, but my job doesnt pay much, so even one session would set me back so far regarding money.

the fact that its so normal for 11-13 year olds to start experiencing severe depression is so concerning. its almost like a rite of passage. ask anyone in gen z if they were depressed in middle school and theyll probably say "yeah." thats concerning.

young people's suicide rates have risen over 50% in the past 10 years. 42% of gen z considered suicide in 2021-22. the fact that i know 3 or 4 people (myself included) who have attempted suicide before age 16 or 17 is insane.

we're so depressed about the future and reasonably so. its so bleak. the world is burning, people are killing each other over such trivial things, nobody listens to each other, and the government is just going insane. how badly do you have to screw up to make a 13 year old want to kill themself because they feel like the future is so bleak?

how badly do you have to screw up to prevent so many people from going to college and getting jobs to support themselves?

how badly do you have to screw up to bar people from something as simple as going to the doctor and earning a basic living wage?

and to think that there are still people who think this is fine. there are some people who sit back and say this all makes sense, that it makes sense that you have to pay thousands of dollars for a few stitches in your hand if you have a cooking accident, that you have to insure every last bit of your life, that people killing each other over ideological differences is natural and cant be helped.

america needs to wake the fuck up and get shit done. its destroying its own future. its making the future generation kill itself because of how miserable it is. fucking do better and maybe you wouldnt burn to the ground in a dumpster fire

[horce-divorce]

eternally grateful for anyone who will do any form of email or textual communication with my audhd ass... i am finally getting in touch w a disability lawyer to set up a consult. it is NERVE. WRACKING. and i keep telling myself oooh i should just call them, i should just call them... i eventually caved and emailed them and that was so much easier wtf. they said hey sure we'll reach out to you. and STILL i was like what if i just called them... for what. she just said she'd call me. that is so much easier.

my roommate/landlady already works w this office and she said they are AWESOME about being patient w her when she doesnt call back or gets overwhelmed, and that they are always reassuring her that's why they're there.

anyway im just setting up a consult so idfk... if i have a case worth pursuing... but i guess we will find out!!!! hopefully they at least let me down easy if it is not.

im thinking about a lot of stuff today but one thought i keep coming back around it no matter what is how i wouldnt even BE disabled if we had proper medical care in this stupid godforsaken useless country.

like sure you hear the abstract about it, having free healthcare/socialized medicine would save X billions of dollars! or whatever. or the opposite, how we are spending however many trillions on ER visits and other stuff that ends up being more costly than preventative medicine/just housing people and so forth.

but what that actually means is sorry bastards like me are out here suffering in excruciating pain, undiagnosed or written off for decades, unable to work the whole time and having to beg just to eat, while everyone calls us lazy. it took me 10 years to get a diagnosis.

and once I did, they still effectively told me to kick rocks. they insisted im not a candidate for the only treatment, and refused me any other symptom management, pain relief, physical therapy, referrals, anything. they gave me nothing. they told me to go smoke weed about it. they ACTUALLY told me that. (its legal here but still.)

even with the 10 years to diagnosis, if they had just referred me for surgery when I was diagnosed, during that sliver of a window of time when I was still house and would be for one more year, I COULD HAVE HAD THE SURGERY. now I cant, even if I could find a surgeon who'd have me, because I have nowhere to recover, on account of not being able to work and being homeless, due to the pain I need surgery for. see what a cute catch-22 that is

and its my friends and mutuals and strangers online who are footing that bill. instead of everyone just getting what they need i have to ask YOU GUYS to subsidize my SURVIVAL. instead of just like, getting the treatment I needed and going back to work eventually or whatever. no i get to languish out here in agony and then die begging for scraps because a handful of guys insist on treating PEOPLE and our CARE like numbers in a GAME, and when they lose it's US that foot the bill and pay with our actual lives, and somehow millions of us are just allowing them to do this like that's normal and okay.

idk theres a lot tied into applying for disability. my case had better be worth someone's time. i fear that it isnt, but it OUGHT to be. i just know that we live in a world so full of things that ought to or ought not be and the cruelty is the point, the purpose of the system is what it does. im used to being let down by all the 'resources' that are supposed to be saving me and its exhausting to get my hopes up. but heres hoping anyway, i guess.

[studiesof-fandom]

hey, hope ur doing well. i'm writing a paper on participatory culture and doing a case study of the goncharov event that happened late last year, and i just wanted to say: first and foremost thank you. the google drive with the pdfs is a godsend, and it makes me so happy to see people caring about accessibility. and second, do u happen to have anything on the history of fandom on tumblr specifically? like, how/why tumblr became a space for fandom to operate on, and such. 1/2

sorry, continuing here. everything relevant i found online was behind a paywall, and im not from the US so its very hard for me to pay in dollars, as much as id like to. so, if you know of anything, an article, paper, a tumblr post, it would help me a lot! well, thanks again. this blog is extremely awesome, and i bookmarked the google drive to possibly read some stuff in the future just for the fun of it. thank you so much (for a third time. i am very grateful) bye, have a nice day! - @17alternative

I'm happy to help! As a teacher I think knowledge should be free and that's the goal here ♥ About your research: I remember that the Chapter 22 of A Companion to Media Fandom and Fan Studies talks about Tumblr and fandom, but I don't know if it'll help you.

I found a few stuff @ Tumblr's page on Fanlore (tip: to start a research about anything fandom related, ALWAYS start with Fanlore):

Slashcast 42: Tumblr and the New Direction of Fandom

Why Did Fans Flee LiveJournal, and Where Will They Go After Tumblr?

TWC Vol. 27 (2018): Tumblr and Fandom

Our blog Tumblr tag

I never tried it, but this place says the extension works for eliminating paywall, so it might help you.

I hope I helped you! And if anyone here knows other articles, please post the link in the post!

[thiemrossi]

I'm just listening to your new episode and i really don't understand the charter stuff. I remember reading a bit about it here and there a few monts ago, but i didn't really pay attention. What is the point of all this? I understand that the teams pay the series to compete so it's a money thing? How much did they have to pay before/how much do they have to pay now?

Now that the series is finally growing, why would you immediately slam the doors to international teams that have the chance of bringing in a new audience?

Also when you were talking about the masses of women under 25 becoming rossi fans and the alexander rossi brainrot pandemic i was like wow, this is literally about me. Love that this experience is so universal haha

First of all, thanks for listening! I really appreciate it. Glad to know i’m helping people recognize the signs and symptoms of alexander rossi brain disease. As for the charter stuff, I don’t totally understand it myself yet. I’m going to do a full episode about it but is still have A LOT of research to do beforehand. But since you asked i will try to explain it based on what i understand about it as of right now.

1. Yes, it’s a money thing. Idk if teams pay the series to compete right now with like an entrance fee or not. I could be wrong but i’ve always understood it as “if you can meet the cost/logistical hurdles of competing in the series, come on down.” what i mean by that is: getting engine leases (each manufacturer limits how many engines they allocate to the series each year so can be hard to get), getting a chassis (can be hard and expensive to get), getting sponsors/funding (approx $5m per car for a full season iirc), & worst of all finding people to work for you. So, from what i understand no real entrance fee just because it’s really expensive for teams to join anyway. Because it’s so expensive to join/run teams, indycar has the leader’s circle where they pool the prize money from every race (idk how this works) & pay the top 22 cars in the championship a little over a million dollars after each season to give them a start with funding for next season. When the charters come in, only chartered teams can collect leaders circle payments. So it’s basically a reward for having a charter and competing full time. im assuming it takes the pressure off full-time teams because they won’t be competing for their cars existence next season because in the past finishing outside the leaders circle could mean you can’t afford to run your car the next season (like andretti last year). But the real point of the charter is equity for owners. By that I mean, if they ever wanted to leave the series they could sell their spot to another team for a ton of money. Right now, if a team leaves a series, they basically disappear off the face of the earth. Their stuff gets auctioned off but other than that they get nothing in return for the millions they’ve invested in the team. The charter is essentially a property interest. They’re limited in quantity, give certain benefits like automatic entries & are linked to the leader’s circle so they accumulate value over time so if a team owner decides they want out, they didn’t waste their investment & they’ll get paid back for it by selling their charter. (it’s all very finance bro type stuff. think of a charter as stock. you want to buy low and sell high. it makes indycar teams more attractive to outside investors because they see having a charter as a way to make money.)

2. i don’t think the ultimate goal was to slam the door on international teams because like you said, they want this new international audience. if prema doesn’t get charters, it’s because of circumstance imo. unfortunately, they are joining the series the year they’re implementing charters. if they’d joined earlier, they wouldn’t have a problem. if they joined in a few years and paid a team for charters, it wouldn’t be a problem. indycar also fears having too many full time cars in the series for pit lane/paddock capacity in some places. hence why they need some sort of cap. i think they want international teams like prema in, i just think they had to draw the line somewhere. also like idk how current teamowners would feel about giving prema charters when they haven’t even competed in a race yet. i’m not saying it’s impossible for indycar to decide to give them charters anyway though because, personally, i’d like to see it. i think it’s just a question of how bitter are the team owners/other reasons to keep them out vs. how much do they see the value in giving prema charters now.

i hope that somewhat answers your questions but i definitely rambled so keep an eye out for the episode about charters where i will hopefully be able to explain it more coherently!

[kasaneteto]

sorry i simply must complain for a moment

ive been complaining about my roommate too much on instagram so im doing it here instead 🖕 fuck you

MOTHERFUCKER CANNOT TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF!!!! tell me why this man is turning 26 NEXT WEEK and can’t remember to pay me back for the bills. won’t do any chores unless he’s asked to or HE has friends coming over. i literally feel like im living with a teenager.

i’ve recently realized just how much ive coddled him and made excuses for him because of his mental health struggles and the way his parents treated him his whole life. ive also realized that its entirely up to him to recognize that his mental health struggles & trauma are HIS problems to deal with and i shouldnt have to temper my expectations because of that. i can only tell him he needs therapy so many times before it’ll just go in one ear and out the other like every other thing i say to him. he is so incapable of any kind of self-reflection or self-awareness, has no concept of how his actions might affect others, can’t make any compromises without throwing a fucking tantrum about it. it’s exhausting. he requires so much attention and validation in order to be happy. being in the same room is like an invitation to talk to him. AND HE SAYS THE SAME SHIT. its like ive exhausted all dialogue options. he always makes the same stupid jokes that are just *goofy or purposefully obnoxious comment about what im doing* and i DONT have the energy to entertain that shit every day. but it RUINS his mood if you dont partake in his humor and then he just sulks. he cannot be serious. everything is jokey goofy fun time. when finn and i told him she’s trans & that we broke up his response was just to stare at us like a deer in headlights and go “oh. okay. sorry thats just a lot to process” which is like. just such a perfect prime example of how he cannot handle anything serious or heavy. when he got cheated on he was inconsolable and would not leave finn and i alone (and we wanted to help!!! we care about him!!!) he literally would follow us to our room and we would have to ask him for alone time!!!! he’s like a baby!!!! he’s so deadset on finding a new partner and i just wanna scream in his face NO RELATIONSHIP YOURE IN WILL EVER WORK IUT UNTIL YOU WORK ON YOURSELF AND UNPACK YOUR TRAUMA!!!!!!

he always uses money as an excuse like “ohhh i cant afford it” motherfucker. you can’t afford anything that isnt something you want. so you cant afford to pay me bills on time but you can afford a new monitor for cyber monday? you can’t afford therapy but you can afford to get a shitty fake christmas tree because THATS what’s important to you? he lives so fucking hedonistically and acts like he lives paycheck to paycheck when he makes 22 DOLLARS AN HOUR. MOTHERFUCKER YOU MAKE MORE THAN ME. YOU CAN FUCKING AFFORD IT YOU JUST DONT BUDGET OR SAVE AT ALL.

ok sorry i had to get that shit out because im so frustrated with him. i had a party the other night and he just sulked around until his friends came, hung out with them and only them the whole time, then continued to sulk and complain once they left. then sat around scrolling on his phone while my friends helped me clean everything up. my friends who actually are responsible and arent just in their own world with no consideration for others.

its not like he’s a bad person or even a bad friend because he truly isn’t. he’s just so emotionally immature and does not have the strength to look inward & realize that he is the source of most of his unhappiness in his life currently. its really hard to live around given the stage of my life im currently in.

i wish i could tell him all of this to be honest but hes so fucking sensitive. i HAVE tried to talk to him about a lot of these issues too (him needing to he asked to do chores, not paying me back etc) and its always the same thing. he gets better for a couple months but it quickly goes back to how it was before. im just like so done acting like his problems are mine. done asking him for favors. i hate that living with him has made me lose so much respect for him (he has no moral backbone) because like. i can see that he wants to be better. he just isnt strong enough to admit that hes the problem in his life right now. anyways. thanks for reading this if you did lol

[cool-okbutno]

LMAOOOO IM REMINDED OF THE TIME that @m111ng said everytime i talk about him i have to pay her a dollar and being FULLY AWARE OF THIS THE WHOLE TIME i still owed her 22$ in the end

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"MEN SAY THEY STOLE FOR HUNGRY FAMILIES," Toronto Star. May 14, 1934. Page 2. --- But Bench Sees "Conspiracy to Rob Employers." Two Jailed ---- Charged with wholesale theft of bacon, eggs, beans, pickles, jam, hams, butter and other produce to the value of $50, from Gunn's, Ltd.. where they were formerly employed as cook and butcher. Vincent Coruna, 36, and Charles Sammiet, pleading guilty, go to jail for seven days each.

"I believe it was a conspiracy to rob their employers." commented his worship in police court to-day.

"It was the depression," pleaded Defence Counsel T. B. Horkins. "They both have families and have never been in trouble before. Their families were hungry and that is why they stole the goods. Now both have lost their jobs; I think they have learned their lesson."

Their procedure, explained P.C. Franklin, who with P.C. Ellis, made the arrest, was for Coruna, who was on night duty, to collect the goods and pass them out a window to Sammiet who waited outside with a car. The accused were caught on Sunday.

"They were very truthful about the whole affair." added the officer.

Had Lottery Tickets Lottery tickets "to help unemployed dresscutters." were what Morris Wasser had in his possession, according to P.C's Phillips and Scott. who arrested the accused on May 3 at King and York Sts.

Pleading guilty to a charge of having lottery tickets, Wasser was fined $20 or 30 days.

Going shopping in a department store on Saturday, without money, Isaac Harschoff got eight pairs of ladies' gloves, Magistrate Browne gave him one month in jail.

Pleading guilty to registering and recording bets on horse races, Ker Wood Kerr was fined $100 and costs or one month. P.C. French told the court of entering a store on King St. W on Saturday, May 12. and finding betting slips, racing forms and a pay-off sheet.

Driving on Applegrove Ave., on Saturday afternoon, while he was under the influence of liquor. Walter Marchment, pleading guilty to a charge of driving while drunk was sentenced to 10 days in jail. P.C. Reilly made the arrest.

'Twas Wet Week-End "It was a wet week-end. drunks-one of the longest lists in a long time ambled before Magistrate Tinker in early court to-day. Besides the imbibers there were six "wanderers," four "rod-riders" and four trespassers.

The wet weather must have had a had effect, for 22 of the "bottle soldiers were first offenders. They pleaded guilty and were remanded for sentence with a warning. The other eight-second offenders-were given penalties ranging from $10 or ten days to $50 or one month.

Many and varied were their pleas. Some said they had a job to go to, others dented previous offences, and one Joe Tierney, a first offender, pleaded that "it was my brother" when a previous offence was read.

There were four "old-timers." John Strachle, Patrick Beatty, Thomas Field and Leo Kelly, and they were given options of $50 or 30 days.

Kelly's brother. Wm. Kelly, a second offender, drew $10 and costs or 30 days. A similar option was handed George England, who "im- bibel for the second time. Ten dollars or ten days was what Gordon Renardson, a second offender, got.

Caught stealing a ride on an engine tender, Eno Raty and Leonard Lehtinen, from Sudbury, were as assessed $10 or three day..

A similar alternative was given Paul Koyack. Harry Thahek. Joseph Yairil Aicke and Joseph Welk, found trespassing in CPR yards.

"In No Condition to Drive" Arrested yesterday while backing his car off a lawn on Euclid Ave. after it had jumped the curb and crashed through a fence, Peter F. French pleaded guilty to a reckless driving charge in traffic court and was sent to jail for seven days, was fined $10 to keep from going to jail for an additional H days and had his doing license revoked for a month.

"He had been drinking and wasin condition to drive," PC. Little stated.

Remanded in jail a week ago to await sentence on reckless driving charges, Gustau Sturm, Matthew Murray, and John Strupeansky were given $10 or 10 days as options. Murray also had his driving permit cancelled for tone months Lawrence Wilhan for a similar offence was penalized to the some extent and had his permit cancelled for one month.

Up for sentence after spending the week-end in jail. Harold McLeen was assessed $100 or three months in jail on a B.L.C.A. conviction and $10 or 10 days on a charge of reckless driving.

Haul Moonshine, Jailed Seizing four gallons of illicit alcohol in the house of Dan Tintor on Saturday, police charged him with breach of the Excise Act.

"I bought the moonshine for $5 a gallon and sell it for $1.50 a bottle," the accused told the court.

Refusing to say from whom he bought the spirits, Tintor was committed to jail for a month and fined $300 and costs or three months.

Trailing the car of Charles Thornton from his home on Delaware Ave. to a Pape Ave, address, P.C. Sproute and Wellford found 4 quarts of beer in the back sent and charged him and a companion, John Sinclair, with having. As a result of finding six allegedly fictitious permits showing more than $530 worth of liquor purchased under a sofa in Thornton's room, an additional charge was laid against him.

Pleading guilty to having, Thornton said be had only given Sinclair a ride.

"The permits belonged to a man called Dennis," he wore "I was only keeping them for him." The charge against Sinclair was with drawn and Thornton was remanded.

[bigmoneypastelhalloween]

0 hr: this is vorw, hello everyone, its after xmas now, hope you had a good holiday

1 min: "it is what it is" the show is "purposeless"

2 mins: its an uodate show done in segments, this is the month of December show

3 mins: shoutout for the fanart

4 mins: verofactum.com artist credit

5 mins: explaining the meme

6 mins: the freq in the fanart of the meme is voa

7 mins: he missed the broadcast he was expecting, thats the moment

7 mins 47: 2nd piece of fanart shout out to dawn reynolds in Tennessee

8 mins: call for fanart submissions

9 mins: ecocentrik ad!

10 mins 49: you could always paypal donate to vorw

11 mins 33: 2nd time he's said piecemeal so far. We're getting into the meat of the show now. 2022 is ending.

11 mins 42: in just a few days 2023 will begin {happy gregorian new year🍾🍾🍾}

12 mins: its the predictions show debrief; 2 shows in january, listener predictions show and a normal show

14 mins 30: email call for predictions

16 mins 35: political predictions a-ok, bilateral space

18 mins 30: talking about the 2020 prediction show

20 mins: winter storm news

21 mins 55: there were 37 deaths because of the cold weather "isnt that something"

22 mins 30: speaking of disaster deaths, genie use

23 mins: use the generator outside

23 mins 30: someone who cant stop stealing things might take it if its outside

24 mins: solemn pledge to always be raising awareness about generator safety

25 mins: first things first, last show mic issues came up

26 mins: analog sound hound; some crackling is good

27 mins: he cant just get the replacement part he needs by itself

28 mins: lets start with the bad news

28 mins 30: online coin toss deciding what to talk about first

29 mins: on dec 2nd he got wendys and it food poisoned him

30 mins: the sandwich was "horrid", "horrible"

30 mins 47: might never review another fast food Italian sando; "it disgusts me"

31 mins: there was a time in 2014 when he got a stomach virus

31 mins 49: negative association with hotdogs because he ate them while sick

32 mins: hotdog barf memory tour

33 mins: it wasnt the hotdogs fault, but it WAS the wendys's fault

33 mins 30: 2nd delightfully particular occurrence of saying manifesting

34 mins: discussing salt overload

36 mins: some people are questioning how he can know it was the wendys

36 mins 45: he eats one meal a day

37 mins 47: "manifested"

38 mins: if you eat a bunch of meals in a day its harder to know what it was that made you sick

38 mins 57: "manifests"

39 mins: sensitive to temperature, used to having cold extremities

40 mins: getting sick reminded him of having covid last year, temp rang in at 102

41 mins: the sandy sucks but it probably won't make others sick

42 mins: shaming the local wendys

44 mins: never going to that wendys again, "it is what it is"

44 mins 45: 2nd issue at hand, came up while he was sick, related to the shortwave show

45 mins: radio is freeing because theres no content moderation

46 mins: cost of energy increase for 2023

47 mins: he's put tens of thousands of dollars into the shortwave broadcast over the years; "its another reason to wake up each day. Yknow, thats how it is, sometimes"

47 mins 30: the patreon pays for it, mostly

48 mins: airtime to europe is already the most expensive rate, they said prepare for an increase and he did

50 mins: he messages the provider back saying the increase is workable and tries to book airtime thru february

51 mins: the station is under new management

51 mins 30: "what happens when management changes? Everything goes to sh[it]"

53 mins: they say ok we'll work with you but now we only accept payment some byzantine new way

56 mins: he cant abide by this payment method

57 mins: finances is "serious business," "im not willing to be all care-free about it"

58 mins: dec 30 is the last broadcast out of that station

58 mins 55: been doing the show 8 years now

59 mins: so far in vorw history he's only cut certain stations because of cost or signal quality

1 hr: it was a good thing but ive got to walk away from it; this frees up resources

Part 2

[queenburd]

with people's help i raked up about 55$ in donations and i managed to use that and what was in my checkings account to pay off my credit card payment, leaving me with..... 22 dollars in my checkings.

it's not nothing, but it's not much. Im sorry to keep posting this thing, but if anyone has a couple bucks, it's appreciated.

Hey errybody, I got in a fight with a surgeon and lost! Well, actually this was a win for me.

After over 5 years of consultations, shifting insurances, therapists that wouldn't sign off, and other things, I finally got 10 pounds off my chest on Wednesday! Yeah, 10 pounds. It was not a Small Amount.

Because it was a major surgery, I'm on bedrest now. Work's on pause (they will be taking me back on happily once I am able to actually work and accommodations are all set up), and that leaves..... bills.

I WAS able to get rent for the next two months sorted out with my health care and that's another weight off my chest (haha heehee), but that's not covering Internet and power costs sadly. Not to mention my credit card bill, boooo.

If you wanna help me make ends meet for the next couple months, you can donate to me through paypal here. (I've tried Venmo? Venmo doesn't like me.)

I do also accept Zelle!

Every penny helps! I'd like to get up to about $400, if feasible. Again, these funds will be used for Internet, power, and my credit card, while I'm unable to work. If you can't donate anything, sharing is also appreciated!!

Thank you for reading! And if you've followed me a long time, thanks for accompanying me on this very long journey. We made it you guys!!!

[zweiginator]

filthy f*cking rich -- part one

hey! im back to writing; this is a new fandom im writing for, so im nervous! be gentle with me!  i hope you enjoy and i hope some succession fans find this! this is a multi-part series and im not sure how many parts i plan to write, but i realized that im far too detailed as it is, so i had to break it up nonetheless. i also apologize for any errors; i admit i get lazy when it comes to the editing stage!!

Synopsis: You are out at an elite club in NYC and meet a handsome stranger. Smitten by each other, your flirting escalates and important details are left unsaid. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Lead up to smut, Drug usage (by you and Kendall), Drinking

“Good fucking god, Y/N,” your friend, Amelia exclaimed, as you forked out another fifty to pay for drinks. It was payday, and to say the family you babysitted for was rich would be the understatement of the fucking century. “What does that family do for a living?” She asked, downing the last of her mojito. At 20 dollars a pop, she was savoring every last drop, not that she was paying for any of it. 

“All I know is the mom of the kids is divorced to a very wealthy, very guilty businessman. Apparently he makes a fortune, he fucked up the marriage, and he just pays for them to live lavishly. Rava still has a job though, a good one too. Basically, they’re really fucking well off.” You answered, shoving some bills into a poorly-filled tip jar. 

“Well good god” She answered, stirring her fresh mojito, not even hearing the clinking of the ice against the frosted glass over the steady house music blasting through her veins, along with the minty rum. “If they need a back up sittr, I’d be happy to work for even half of that. They can put me on retainer.”

You grinned. “It’s a good gig, for sure.” You mouthed a slurred Thank You to the bartender, an attractive man in his mid-twenties, with full lips, and even fuller biceps. His face was rugged looking, peppered with stubble, and he smelled of cleanliness, of musky aftershave and the remnants of sweat, the evidence of which was glistening over his smooth forehead.

“He was hot.” Your other friend, Libby, commented. “I’m self-conscious just being here. The elite scene in New York is just so intimidating.”

You nodded, gulping down a moscow mule; it was just a little something to sip on between shots. “I definitely agree. The key is to just pretend you fit in, even if you really don’t.”

Amelia scoffed. “You do fit in though.” She pointed to your purse, a new Yves Saint Laurent bag you had recently saved up for. 

“Not really, and I’ve only worked for Rava for a couple months. Most of this money has gone to rent. Besides, I don’t think you understand just how rich these people are.”

“How rich?” Libby raised her eyebrows, dark brown and perfectly plucked. Her family back home was much more well off than yours, so you were a bit annoyed at her commentary. A pretty brunette from Connecticut, she sported 400 dollar dresses for a casual dinner, and didn’t need to worry about where rent money would come from each month. She still got allowance at 22, a fact which astounded you when you were told. 

You sucked your lips in, shrugging. “I mean, it depends. Shall we get some statistics? I mean, I’m assuming all of these dudes in suits don’t struggle for money. They just look so far removed from the world. An average night out for them is hundreds at dinner, the same at the bar, and five times that on coke.” You gestured to a man sitting in a dimly lit corner, hunched over a handheld mirror. The sleeves to his crisp button up were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, assured forearms. At least 4 rolled up hundred dollar bills were sprawled around the table, and he picked one up, pushing his right nostril in as he bent down to take in the three, fat lines of cocaine expertly striping the mirror. They were long, a clean white. 

You didn’t realize how intently you were staring at him until he looked up, eyelids hooded, his hazel irises sleepy, drunk looking, confused and secure all at the same time. He looked as if he was the most comfortable in that state of in between, of knowing exactly what he wanted and what he was doing, but also of the looming terror of not knowing what the fuck would come next. Would he crash? Would he have a sustained high, or would it fizzle out, like it did with the shitty coke, the stuff he got when he put Greg in charge of the drugs? 

He smirked at you, and you saw how his pupils grew into black saucers, swallowing the hues of golden brown you could barely make out with the intensity of the purple lights glimmering above him. He glanced down at the tiny baggie of coke, half spilled on the mirror, and tapped his nostril twice, shrugging. His strung out way of asking if you wanted a line or two. 

“This is what I mean,” You looked back at your friends, gesturing with your head back at the man in front of you, tucked away in his own little version of heaven,  gripping the ground with the soles of his tough leather shoes but simultaneously high, high above everyone else, in his own world, where everything was fuzzy and intense and he always got whatever he wanted because he was always the richest in the room. And now he had money and untethered confidence, the best company a man could ask for. 

“What is what you mean?” Amelia looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I bet you if I asked this man how rich he was, his answer would shock you.” You answered, clutching your bag as you made your way over to him. 

“You can’t ask him that!” Amelia semi-whispered in your ear, looking around as she sat across from him. 

“Ask who what?” The man questioned, cutting another line with a heavy looking credit card. 

You wouldn’t usually be as forward, but the four drinks in your system brought a newfound confidence along with the semi-slurred speech and flushed cheeks. “You’re rich, aren’t you? Like how loaded would you say you are?”

He pretended to ponder. “I guess, imagine someone who is filthy fucking rich. Like beyond what you could comprehend.” He smirked. His voice was firm but silky, his lips pillowy and red, bitten from his high.

You sat down directly next to him, drawn in by his half-smile, how he carried himself, how he was commanding but oddly off-putting all at the same time. He just looked like trouble, like a scandal, but it made you all the more intrigued. 

“And that’s how rich you are?” You asked. 

He raised his eyebrows. “No, a lot fucking richer than that,.” He bit his bottom lip, gesturing towards you with his rolled up hundred. 

“Cocky, much?” Libby scoffed. 

“She asked,” He shrugged, taking the line for himself instead of waiting for your prolonged response. You didn’t love the idea of coke, but he looked fucking hot doing it and you couldn’t believe you found yourself thinking that. He sniffled, wiping the excess powder from around his nose. The remnants of a line peppered the corner of the mirror, and he gathered it with his index finger. “You know, if you’re afraid to snort, you can rub some on your gums. Less scary that way.”

You looked up at him, pondering what to do next. You had never done coke before, but here was an upscale club in New York, a sunken-in green couch, and a sexy, rich guy with a lopsided smile, basically offering up his finger for you to suck on for a free high. Maybe it was against your better judgement, but you grabbed his wrist, pulling his finger to your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, his pupils becoming impossibly larger as he swiped the pad of his finger across your velvety gums. 

He smiled, moving his other hand to your knee. The finger that was just in your mouth gathered a small amount of coke on the moistened pad, finding its way to his own mouth for a quick swipe along his gums.  Your skirt had ridden up, bunched around your upper thigh. He pretended not to notice, a newer, fresher high pouring from his nose into his head and seeping through the rest of his body as he looked at yours, as inconspicuous as possible. 

The high hit you slower than you had expected; your tongue tingled as you watched his lips form into a curious smirk, deepening the creases by the corners of his mouth, where slightly greyed stubble was peppered. You wouldn’t usually allow a random, strung out man touch above your knee at a crowded club, but something about this man was making you erratic, and excessively planted in the firm ground of the present, when your head usually floated more towards the future.

You had honestly forgotten your friends were still here, watching you and the nameless, filthy rich man eye fuck each other as the vibration of the bass seemingly pushed you even closer together.

“I liked that,” He whispered in your ear, moving his hand to grip the soft skin of your inner thigh, still low enough to be acceptable, but flirting along the line of inappropriate, sexual. 

“Liked what?” You feigned innocence, flashing him a cute smile. 

He rolled his eyes, his breath hot against your cheek as his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh. “My finger in your mouth. Did you like the coke?”

He was as quick to mention it as he was to brush the topic to the back of the room, where your friends had roamed off to, still watching you from afar, awaiting a look for help you felt you wouldn’t need to give them. 

“I’m indifferent about it. Never have done it before, and definitely wasn’t planning on doing it tonight either.” You smiled down at your lap, suddenly aware of his stare, its effects burning your cheeks, your hands, in between your legs. He smelled rich and he had that greedy entitlement seeping from his pores, something which usually would have been strongly off putting, but at that moment made you certain that this was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“I didn’t mean to peer pressure.” He said, flatly. His thumb and index finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt a sweet looking girl such as yourself.” He gave a closed-mouth smile, his thumb swiping against your lower lip, still tingling. 

“I don’t mind. It was my choice.” You shrugged, your foot beginning to tap against the wooden floor which was littered with a sticky gunk. 

“Atta girl,” He sighed, squeezing your leg, pulling you even closer, bordering on his lap. His pants were molded perfectly to his body, hugging his thighs and stopping right at his ankles. His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, a tight black number you had bought ages ago in your hometown. “This suits you.” His tone was blunt, but you could tell he was trying to say the right thing. It was just unclear as to whether he actually cared about your feelings or if he just wanted to fuck you. There was a slim chance it was both. 

“I like the suit.” You pulled on his tie, making his lips near yours; you could smell mint, some tobacco, the faintest tinge of lime. “Looks like you came straight from the office.”

He chuckled. “I’m never out of the fucking office.” He fingered the top button of his shirt, popping it open. “It’s all business, sweetheart.”

“Even this?” You looked up at him through your lashes. “Getting high with me?” You loosened his tie a bit, forgetting you were in a public place, although it felt like it was just you two, breathing each other in, eager to see what would come next.

“Well this is a break. Well deserved.” His hand inched further up your thigh, and you welcomed it, looking around for a quick escape, somewhere a little more quiet. 

“What did you do to deserve this?” You teased, pushing his hand further up your thigh. He groaned lowly, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s a good fucking question, because I do nothing but fuck up.” He swiped his thumb over your clothed clit, feeling how wet you were, how ready. “Jesus,” He whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where exactly are we going?” You asked, fiddling with a button on his shirt, opting to pop it open because you were already this far with him. 

“My car, my penthouse, fucking anywhere.” He pulled his hand away from your core, pulling his tie looser in the process. “It’s hot in here. Loud. And I want you.”

Throwing back the rest of your drink, you grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the couch, eager to make his–and your own–wish come true. He didn’t bother to gather the four, rolled up hundreds, or the rest of his drugs, but maybe, you thought, they weren’t his to begin with. You often forgot how in the minds of the elite, everything was theirs, nothing was off limits, and everyone and everything could be bought. “So where will you have me?” 

He pondered, or more likely, pretended to. “My penthouse, of course. If I am to choose. It’s nothing special, though.” He winked. 

You headed toward the exit at the front, where you had come in, his hand still grasped in your own, warm, inviting, masculine. 

“Other way.” He pushed his other hand against your lower back, turning you around. His lips pressed against your ear. “I wasn’t lying about how fucking rich I am. If we go out that door, we’re the headlines in tomorrow’s tabloids.” And then his hand inched lower, over your ass. As he led you out of a hidden exit, blocked off by caution tape, you wondered if this was a good idea, or a march to your own grave. Leaving a bar, drunk and high with a man whose name you didn’t even know seemed to coincide more with the latter. 

“What was your name?” You asked, opting for at least a false sense of security. It was better than nothing, after all. 

He tore the haphazardly strewn caution tape, his hand still on the small of your back. “I was wondering when you’d ask that. “It’s Kendall.” He conveniently left out the last name; Kendall was sufficient enough, and left out the recognizable aspect, the heavily connoted Roy that either had women throw their drinks in his face or feign interest in him.

It was an interesting name, you thought. Definitely unexpected, but that was like him. You said nothing, not surprised he didn’t ask for your name in return. 

The air from outside was crisp, light. And the wind as fast as the trip to Kendall’s apartment building, one of the only residential buildings you had seen in New York to be aptly called a skyscraper. The tension between you and Kendall was palpable as the driver opened the back door for you. The combination of the brisk breeze and the cramped backseat had made your skirt ride up quite a bit, and Kendall was hard, excited as he thought about what would come next, what he would do to you. He was certain the cocaine had worn off, but he still felt high, and that concerned him, just a little. He felt like he was twenty one again, when independence was new, sexuality to be explored. 

His apartment door was heavy. That’s what Kendall told you as he pushed you up against it, causing it to slam, the cold echo of metal startling you into his arms. He smiled against your mouth, one of his hands finding your throat. His grip was firm, but he didn’t choke you. Instead he just looked at you, your hair tousled and frizzy, cheeks tinged with a feverish blush, your lips even darker. 

Swiping his free thumb over your bottom lip, he pushed it into your mouth, causing you to suck on it instinctively. Your cheeks hollowed, eyes sheepishly meeting his. 

Then, with the commanding, firm tone only a man like him could ever get away with, he said, “Get on your knees, now.”

Part Two

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Five

Bad Memories Don’t Erase

Chapter Summary: Roman tags along with Logan and Virgil to hang out at their friend’s house.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, stealing, and one inappropriate joke

Word Count: 4,008

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: This chapter’s a little short, but the next one is gonna be really long, so hopefully that makes up for it

On Sunday the next day, Patton finally took Roman to buy his gym clothes. Roman was trying to hide a goofy smile while sitting in the back seat, desperate to not get his hopes up while also ecstatic his plan was working so far. He was going to have Patton stay in the car while Roman shopped for clothes! This had never worked on his dad before!

By the time Patton finally parked the car in the parking lot of the store, Roman’s chest felt weighted from his anxiety, waiting to see Patton’s final verdict. So long as he didn’t change his mind now, then Roman was in the clear. He hoped to be in the clear.

“Alright, kiddo,” Roman’s heart stopped as Patton pulled out his wallet and gave him some money. “Forty dollars should be more than enough for some pairs of gym pants and shirts. Give me back all the change when you come back, okay?”

“I will! Promise!” Roman wanted to jump for joy. It was working!

“Text me when you’re checking out so you don’t surprise me, and if you see something else you might want, just text me before you buy it so I know. Tell me if you have any issues, okay?”

“Okay!”

Patton smiled. “Go on then, kiddo.”

Roman practically leaped out the door to skip his way to the front entrance of the clothing store, two twenty dollar bills crumbled in his pocket. He got away with it! No parents staring him down while he changed outfits!

Roman walked into the store and tried to hide the skip in his step. With no parents to watch him, he could buy what he actually wanted to wear, no tight pants and scoop neck shirts. No, Roman wanted to look like his real goal. His goal of being a blob of cloth that vaguely resembled a human.

Granted, he’d mostly gotten there. His aunt replaced all of his wardrobe, so his current clothes were a lot more comfortable to wear even if they weren’t very fashionable. Mostly bright colored t-shirts and pants, maybe some shorts if they were able to reach down far enough. Maybe once he was more comfortable with himself he could actually test out more styles, but for now, oversized clothes were all he could handle.

Roman’s walk sped up slightly when his eyes landed on the men’s athletic section. He had to be quick with this, he didn’t want Patton getting impatient and coming in to check on him. Roman looked through the shorts and shirt sizes, easily finding a size up for a couple shirts while heavily struggling on the shorts. Roman groaned. It was always the shorts that caused the issue, they were always too high up. What if he was sitting down and the pant leg rode up too far? No, Roman refused to get something like that willingly.

Roman took all the athletic shorts that could fit him and held them up in front of his legs. Most of them only made it to his lower thigh, but he managed to find two shorts that made it to right below his knee. Roman smiled and bounced on his toes, grabbed his items and rushed to find a dressing room. Once he did, he rushed into the first empty area he saw and locked the door. The mirrors on the walls and gaps in the door made it hard for him to change comfortably, so instead Roman tried to press himself against the very corner of the room when he was changing.

Between the six shirts and two pants Roman found, he was pretty happy with most of his choices. Thankfully, the long shorts looked fine, so Roman hung them up on a hook with a sign over it saying I’m buying this! and considered it a success. However, when it got time to look at the shirts, only three of them were good enough for purchase. The white one he grabbed was practically see-through, and the other two had a scratchy inside material that Roman couldn’t stand, so they got put on the reject hook while the other three passed the test. 

For a rushed shopping visit, Roman was pretty pleased with his choices. Two shorts might not be enough for five days worth of classes, but maybe Roman could keep one pair in his locker until it started to stink. Which might be a little gross, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Roman exited the dressing room and put his rejected shirts on a rack outside, carrying his other items to the checkout area. Before he got in line, he looked at all the price tags and added them up in his head best he could. The shirts were about six dollars each, and the shorts were a little over five after tax. Which means, adding up the extra cents, he’d have to pay twenty nine dollars for the clothes in total. Considering Patton gave him forty dollars, this was plenty.

Roman hesitated for a second. He stuffed his hand into his pocket to feel the money in the palm of his hand while he thought about his options. If he told Patton the truth, Roman would give him eleven dollars and there would be no issues. Patton might let him do this again next time they go shopping, too. But also…Roman had no backup plan. He was stuck with Patton with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

His aunt told him that Roman could always go back to her house if a guardian was abusing him, and he had every intention to take her up on that offer the second the opportunity arose. But even if Roman walked to her house on foot, he had no money for food during that trip. She lived so far away from him now, there was no way to get to safety without a dollar to his name. But if he stole some from Patton, then Roman could have a serious issue on his hands.

Roman slowly walked up to the check out area and handed the teenage worker the clothes. As she scanned all the items with a satisfying beep, Roman felt himself getting antsy. There’s no guarantee Patton will let me do this again. I’ve already gotten away with so much, and the more time I spend around him, the more danger I’m in. But if Patton notices I stole from him, he could be furious. Is there even a right answer here?

“Twenty nine dollars and thirty two cents.” The cashier said cheerfully. Roman handed her the money and she put it in the register, then handed Roman a bunch of coins, two five dollar bills, and a one dollar. She smiled. “Would you like a receipt?”

“Uh, no thank you.”

When the receipt printed, the cashier tore it out and threw it in the trash behind her. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Roman squeaked, rushing away from the register to stare at the money. Apparently they ran out of ten dollar bills, because the money was split perfectly for taking without it being obvious. Roman considered this a sign to take his chance. He put a five dollar bill and a quarter in his left pocket and shoved the rest in his right. It wasn’t much, but he could build it up. This was only the beginning.

Roman walked out of the store and tried to act normal instead of anxious. Worst case scenario, he’d say he forgot to bring out the rest and give Patton the other bills. Giving away the quarter also would be too obvious, but he could get away with stealing that at least. When he made it to Patton's car, Roman opened the back seat and tossed his clothes next to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton greeted, “Got any extra cash to give me?”

“Uh, yeah, here.” Roman dug into his right pocket to grab half the money and handed it to him. Patton put the coins in his pocket and put the two bills in his wallet. He didn’t seem to consider how much Roman gave him, instead he started backing out of the driveway and got distracted while reversing. Roman let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He felt the five dollars still stored in his pocket. He got away with it. For now.

***

“We’re home!” Patton announced as he and Roman stepped inside. Logan and Virgil were both lying on the couch, and Logan perked up from his spot.

“Wonderful. We wanted to ask both of you a question.” Logan said.

Patton seemed intrigued. “What question?”

“Can we go to Janus’ house, Pat?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, of course, kiddos! Do you know when you might be back?”

Virgil thought about it. “Probably at six before dinner.”

“Perfect! Just text me if that changes so I don’t worry, okay?”

“We will.” Logan reassured, “And Roman, would you like to come with us?”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Me? I don’t even know who Janice is.”

Virgil sunk into the couch more. “Friend of ours. Has a snake, talks a lot about philosophy and books. Acts like a tired underaged wine aunt.”

“Right, well, still. Isn’t it a little strange for me to tag along to a stranger's house?” Roman pointed out.

“Janus wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.” Logan said. “Of course, you don’t have to, we simply figured you would like the invitation so you’re not the only one left out.”

Roman’s eyes widened when Logan said that. Wait, shit, if Logan and Virgil are going to this girl’s house, then Roman will be here. Alone. With Patton. Until six in the afternoon.

Roman’s mood change was almost instant. “Well then, perhaps I should go! Make new friends and establish bonds, or whatever!”

Virgil smirked. “Sweet. It’s a short walk, just a block away. Just let us grab our shoes and we can head out.”

“I’ll tell Janus we’ll be bringing a third party.”

Roman let out a breath of relief. As Virgil and Logan grabbed whatever they needed, Roman set his new bag of clothes in his room next to his backpack. He’d have to remember to put some boxers in there before tomorrow morning, too.

Roman felt the five dollars in his pocket again. He took the money and hid it deep in his backpack in a hidden pocket he hoped wasn’t too easy to find. Satisfied with that for now, Roman stepped back outside of his room and waited for the others.

Once everyone was situated, Virgil called out to let Patton know they were leaving the house and then closed the door. Logan and Virgil did most of the talking as they walked while Roman just listened, following behind them and letting the two lead the way.

“Oh, and Roman,” Logan suddenly said during a point of silence, “Another one of our friends may also show up later at Janus’ house. He said he might be coming, so we’ll see.”

Roman shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Alright.”

No one said anything else after that on the walk. After a while, Virgil and Logan stopped in front of a house and started walking up the driveway to the front door. As Virgil knocked on the door, Roman stood awkwardly off to the side until someone answered.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, showing a teenage kid with a large birthmark under his left eye. He rested his elbow on the top of the black and yellow cane next to him and smirked. Was he the brother, perhaps?

“I’ve been expecting you.” He said menacingly.

“‘Sup, fucker.” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, Janus.”

Wait, what? Against his better judgment, Roman forced himself to stand in front of Logan to face Janus. “Wait, your name is Janice?” He asked.

Janus put his hand on his face. “Janus. It’s Janus. J-a-n-u-s, not the old lady name Janice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot. “…Oh. Well, uh…”

Janus rolled his eyes and held the door open wider. “Just come inside.”

Virgil was the first to step in, with Logan following after while Roman hesitated. He made an awful first impression, maybe he should just walk around the block for a while instead-

“Come on, my arm is tired.” Janus coaxed. Roman felt too awkward to walk away, so he instead sucked it up and stepped inside the house with everyone else.

The house was quite nice. The walls were painted dark and the carpet was red, but it looked nice in a Victorian era kind of way. On the living room coffee table were piles of fabric and a sewing machine, seemingly making something that looked like a suit. Janus took the cane he was holding and threw it onto the couch. Well, apparently it was just a part of the outfit.

Virgil motioned to all the fabric on the table. “Fuck are you making now, dude?”

“I’m making the refined villain look of my dreams.”

“Nice. When do you think you’ll finish it?”

“Possibly tomorrow. I’ll start on it again after school.”

“Do you make your own clothes?” Roman asked, hoping to distract himself from his previous embarrassment.

Janus smiled slightly. “Less clothes, more costumes. Mostly for myself, but sometimes I make them for the high school’s theater when I’m feeling generous.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!”

“Wanna see Janus’ costume closet?” Virgil asked.

Roman shrugged. “If he wants me to.”

“Oh yeah, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus rolled his eyes and motioned for everyone to follow him. He had a downstairs family room with a closet off to the side. Once everyone was downstairs, Janus opened it and let Roman look inside.

“…Woah.” Roman looked at all the costumes, astonished and full of wonder. A lot of them were very extravagant, like they were specifically designed for a dramatic person, so Roman felt a calling toward them. He took a few of them off their hangers to look at; roaring twenties inspired suits and a black dresses with fancy gold finishes. Roman ran his hand on the fabric like they were fancy relics.

“They are quite high-quality.” Logan said, “Costume design is certainly one of Janus’ greatest skills.”

“I can see that.” Roman whispered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t make his ego bigger than it already is.”

“Oh no, please do continue, I’m designed to be the center of attention.” Janus smirked.

Roman laughed and put the costumes back on the rack. It seemed like him and Janus were pretty similar in personality, just on opposite ends of the spectrum. Both dramatic artists, except one likes to add that with tons of sarcasm. He could see them getting along quite easily.

“Also, Janus,” Virgil said while looking at his phone, “Rat bastard says he’s coming over. He’ll be here in ten.”

“Ugh, fine. I was getting used to the silence.” Janus sighed.

“…Who’s rat bastard?” Roman asked.

“Friend of ours.” Virgil replied, “You’ll meet him in a bit. He’s a rat bastard. Smells vaguely of cheese.”

“…Attractive.”

“You get used to it.” Janus shrugged. He then smirked at Roman like he got an idea. “Would you like to see my snake?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Janus led them all upstairs to his bedroom, Roman following last in the line so he could keep Janus’ door cracked open. As he stepped inside, he noticed a very large cage on the wall to his right. It was very long with lots of wood decorations spread across the container, with a fluorescent lightbulb above it. Roman looked around in the enclosure to try and spot the snake.

Before he could find it, Janus opened the top and stuck his hand in the cage. The snake climbed up his hand onto his arm, and as Janus stuck him out for Roman to see, Roman jumped back.

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s a corn snake, he’s not known for hurting people.”

Roman still looked at it from a distance. The snake was large enough that Janus had to hold him with both hands, as well as being a mesmerizing yellow color. Roman never had a friend with a pet snake before. “…What’s his name?”

“Lawrence.”

“Nerd.” Virgil called out.

Logan smiled. “I think it is a wonderful name. Lawrence Kohlberg developed the theory on moral development, the very basis for ethical behavior.”

“Nerds.”

“You’re very mature, Virgil.”

Roman ignored them. “I think he’s cool. How old is he?”

“About five. I’ve had him for a while now.”

A buzz came from Virgil’s phone, making him check it and read the message. “Rat bastard says he’s outside your door.” He announced.

Janus didn’t seem rushed. “He can get in on his own.”

Roman laughed, and Janus set Lawrence back in his enclosure so he could bask underneath the heat lamp. Roman still watched his movements from inside the cage. “I wish I had a pet.”

“Patton would get you a dog in seconds if you asked.” Logan suggested.

Roman shook his head. “It’s fine, I won’t ask.” He didn’t really know what kind of pet he even wanted, and besides, it’s not like he’d be able to keep it once he leaves Patton’s house. There was no point.

Suddenly, a loud stomping came from the stairs outside Janus’ bedroom. Roman yelped and ran to hide behind Janus in the corner of the room, but the others didn’t react. 

Roman sputtered. “What the-”

Before Roman could finish, a large bang came as someone kicked open the door and let it smack into the wall.

“I’m back by unpopular demand!”

“Hello, Remus.”

Roman completely froze up at the sound of that name. He turned around to look at the person that just busted down Janus’ bedroom door, a kid with messy hair and peach fuzz for a mustache, ripped jeans in the summer with a cast boot on his right foot.

Roman felt himself choke on air as he processed what was in front of him.

“Slugs are goopy like jello! So jello is made of slugs, duh!”

“Remus, that’s gross! No one would make food out of slugs!”

“What’s up, fuckers!” Remus announced. “I’m back from the pits of hell! Also known as the emergency room.”

Roman didn’t say anything, only stared at him in disbelief. Remus’ voice was a lot different now. He’d hit puberty, so the pitch had dropped a lot from what Roman was used to. A tuft of his hair was white, also. Roman couldn’t tell if it was dye or a condition.

That piece of hair and Remus’ mustache were the only things that made them both look apart now.

“What actually happened?” Logan asked. “You never told us specifics.”

“I broke my foot sucking too much-”

“Remus.” Janus warned.

“Fine, fine. I tripped trying to run up some steps and my fall didn’t look badass at all. Don’t tell people that though. If anyone asks, I broke it running from the cops.”

Janus nodded and smirked. “Noted.”

“We brought a third foster brother, also.” Virgil noted. Roman stopped breathing.

“Oh, really? Shit, I fuckin missed everything!” Roman looked in the corner trying to avoid Remus noticing him, but it was never that easy. “Why hello, welcome to our humble- …Oh, fuck.”

Remus tilted his head to make eye contact with Roman, and the surprise on Remus’ face was something Roman would never forget. He seemed genuinely baffled, like nothing in the world would have prepared him for what he saw. Roman wanted to cry.

I wanted to leave behind these people.

“…Roman?” Remus finally said, “Dude, holy fuck, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Wait,” Virgil staggered, “You know each other already?”

“He’s my fucking cousin!” Remus exclaimed. “Come on, look at us, we’re only a little related but we look like twins!”

Logan turned to Roman. “Is this true?”

Roman could feel the tears ready to burst. His throat was scratchy, but he tried to talk anyway. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, Princey, don’t be shy!” Remus teased. “We used to be best friends, let everyone believe we were twins until our moms called our shit out. Absolute bastard children- …wait. Wait a fucking second.”

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus turned to Virgil and Logan with a shocked and confused face. “…You said he’s your foster brother?”

Logan nodded. “That is correct.”

Remus turned to Roman, seemingly at a loss for words. “…Dude, the fuck? What happened?”

Roman looked at the floor, gripping onto his arm so hard it’d be a miracle if there weren’t marks later. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I know I haven’t seen you since your mom fucked off to Neverland, but what happened to your dad? He’s still alive and shit isn’t he? The hell happened?”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” Roman seethed, grinding his teeth together as he practically growled out that sentence.

Virgil flinched violently. “Roman-”

“Whatever!” Roman pushed Remus off to the side and kicked the door fully open, storming his way down the stairs despite the sounds of people yelling for him to come back. Roman stomped out the front door and took a sprint for it down the block, not caring if he had to be alone with Patton, so long as he wasn’t here.

“I bet you would eat a slug!”

“No I wouldn’t! Liar!”

“Boys, boys!” Roman’s mother laughed, crouching down to meet their eye level from their place sitting in the grass. “No eating slugs. Be nice to the bugs or we’ll go back inside.”

“Yeah, Remus!”

Remus huffed. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Not yet!”

Roman’s mother laughed again. “I’m going to help Uncle André with dinner. But I better not hear a fight, okay?”

“Okay!” Roman promised, watching as his mom went back inside his uncle’s house into the kitchen. Roman and Remus continued to play in the grass by looking at bugs and telling stories to each other, making Roman smile more than he has in a long time. He always loved going to Remus’ house. His dad never came with them, so he and his mom were always happier.

“How come we never go to your house?” Remus eventually asked after a few minutes of playing. Roman stuck his tongue out.

“‘Cause our house is tiny and the backyard isn’t as cool.”

“Still! When you come over, you never bring Uncle Theo!”

“Good!” Roman defended, “Dad’s boring so he doesn't getta come!”

“I like him! He’s fun and nice and always brings chocolate!”

“He’s awful!” Roman covered his mouth after he blurted that out. Remus gave him a look.

“He’s not awful!”

Roman looked over to the glass sliding door. His mom was in there, he could see her, but she couldn’t hear him. Maybe he could get away with it. He could tell Remus a secret and his mom would never find out.

Roman hesitantly took his hands away from his mouth. His tone grew to be a lot softer. “…He is, though.”

Remus tilted his head to the side like a dog. “What makes him awful?”

“…Promise not to tell anyone?”

Remus leaned in closer. “Uh huh!”

“No one at all, ever?”

“Triple quadruple promise!”

Roman looked back at his mom. She wasn’t paying attention to him, seemingly talking to his uncle and pouring juice into cups. Roman hesitated for a moment. “…My dad-”

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” Roman’s mom called out, making Roman jump almost a foot in the air. Both of them got off of the grass to walk inside, but before they did, Remus turned to Roman again.

“Your dad what?”

“…Nevermind.” He missed his chance. Remus would never find out, and Roman never told anyone for another five years.

Roman ran faster down the street at the memory, fighting back the tears in his eyes. It was fine. Roman was fine.

He never wanted to talk to Remus again.

[spicebowl]

it really really frustrates me to see people my age acting like everything theyre facing financially is fine. not to get personal, but im 21 and i have a pretty good credit score, so when i got my first car with a 12% apr i was fucking pissed. people in my credit range routinely get 3-6% apr. im paying over 250 a month for a 10,000 dollar car.

which, if you dont know anything about what those numbers MEAN, yeah sounds fine. but the reality is i should be paying 100 or less. and this ia all because banks and credit unions take advantage of young people and credit history. i swear to god, young people are terrified of getting credit or touching anything with credit at all that they avoid them entirely and find yhemselves in their early 20s with no credit history, leading to shit like this where im paying twice as much as others in my credit range over my AGE!

credit seems really scary because it opens up your immediate funds and, for teens and young adults, can seems like a really really bad idea. and a lot of times, young people uneducated about credit do fuck themselves pretty hard. but the prospect of waiting till youre 22 to get a credit cards means that when youre 26 and settling down and thinking of buying a house, youre credit isnt even 5 years old yet and you are turned away until youre over 30.

the reality is, as much as everyone hates credit scores and all of this, we have to educate ourselves about credit and stand up to banks and shit when they do things like this! i hear so many people acting like having outrageous aprs and interest rates are normal because no one taught them otherwise.

[uncloseted]

i'm 22 but i'm still living with my dad, and i feel pretty embarrassed about it. i have a part time job online but i don't have a car so my dad drives me to school. my dad has his own place but my mom who lives out of state feels the apartment we are living in (small apartment building) is unsafe when she was living there due to a lot of people coming in and having parties and smoking weed. i used to live on my own in a room but since my mom moved it's easier for me to live in the condo we have.

part 2) i feel quite embarrassed to still be living with my parents (kinda) and relaying on them so much at my age. how do i convince them that i can live on my own and be safe? my parents are quite protective of me as their only child, and i feel like i lost some valuable experience learning to do things on my own. in our culture its normal to live with family until marriage but we live in the U.S and im embarrassed by my lack of experience in adult life.

i work online part time only 2 days a week, and make about 400-500 dollars per month. this is not enough to cover my full rent or the mortgage (when i move back) so they are still paying and help me with everything. i wish i had a car and know how to drive but we've been so busy as i finish my degree next year. i am very grateful for them for everything and i know a lot of parents wouldn't do the same for me, but i know i need to grow up.

my parents are not together nor do they seem to have many friends or hobbies they do on their own, so they mainly just focus on me. they are very loving and they understand i need to do things on my own, but i have to be more independent. they are helping me to be more independent but they want to live near me even when im married which is normal in our culture, but i dont know if my partner in the future will like it. how do i tell them to let me leave the nest faster? im the same 22 y/o anon

So first things first, living with your parents at 22 is actually super common right now. As of 2021, almost 57% of 18-24 year olds in the US live with their parents at least some of the time. My partner was actually 22 years old and living with his parents when we met, and I didn't think anything of it. It actually ended up being a great situation for me because I got a bonus set of parents that I otherwise wouldn't have spent time with.

That said, I think becoming more independent and getting some adult experiences is a good idea. Are there ways that you can start slowly asserting your independence without freaking your parents out? For example, you might start biking or taking public transportation to school instead of getting your dad to drive you (if that's an option where you are), or taking on more household responsibilities, or working outside of the house a few days a week so that you can become more financially independent. Maybe you can start staying over at friend's houses every so often so your parents get used to you being elsewhere. If you begin to gently show them that you can take care of yourself, they may be more comfortable letting you leave the nest.

It may also be worth sitting down and having an honest conversation with each of them about your goal of being more independent. It may be a difficult conversation to have, but it might be necessary if nothing else is working. Let them know what you told me- that you really appreciate everything they've done for you and that you understand that they've gone above and beyond to help you out, but that you want to be more independent so you can grow up. They may not like it, but it's possible they'll understand and at least let you try.