#i just want to pey my rent

[dymdrimluga]

I really want to do something like this again, so if you want great art for yourself or your friends, I am now open for commissions and you can help me a lot

you can also help by sharing

Price range from $30 for portrait sketches to $400 for detailed illustrations with 4-5 characters

[barbieaiden]

1. Kell: Dude. You're no fun to play with, you're too good.

Aiden: Kell, I love you, but I think you just suck at the game.

Kell: Dude! I always won against my siblings!

Aiden: Aww. I always let my brother win too when we were little.

Kell: You're cheating.

Aiden: I would never. I take these things very seriously.

2. Kell: By the way, you know that guy I went on a date with before your coma?

Aiden: Yeah?

Kell: Yeah, we were supposed to go on another date literally the day you got into the coma, so obviously I was like "dude, I can't make it, my friend is having a literal medical emergency", and he was like "okay, I'll just break this off here then, bye".

Aiden: Oh nooo. Did I cockblock you with my coma?

Kell: You literally did!

3. Aiden: I'll make it up to you. I'll wingman you so hard. I'll introduce you to literally everyone I know.

Kell: Isn't that, like, the entirety of River Bay?

Aiden: Almost, yeah. So you're bound to find someone.

Kell: Dude, you did not win again.

Aiden: You practically let me.

Kell: Dude!

Peyton: Is now a bad time to say hi?

4. Aiden: Peyton! NO, of course not. I didn't even know you were here, it's been so long!

5. Peyton: Yeah, I seem to recall being ignored for a month?

Aiden: Sorry about that. I was sleeping.

Peyton: For a month?

Aiden: Doctor's orders.

Peyton: Ah, of course. Totally reasonable.

6. Aiden: But don't worry. I'm back in my element.

Peyton: Do I want to know what that means?

Aiden: It means I'm ready to annoy the fuck out of you and text you every millisecond 24/7.

Peyton: Okay, I can get behind that.

7. Peyton: how are you doing?

Aiden: Great.

Peyton: "Great"? Really?

Aiden: So great. How are you? Are you still working at the mall?

Peyton: I quit impulsively a few weeks ago. I should probably get a new job if I want to be able to pay rent, but, eh. Video games are more fun.

Kell: If you're evicted you can move into Sam and Aiden's closet, I hear it's pretty empty nowadays.

Aiden: Totally.

8. Kell: Peyton, you're good at connect 4, right?

Peyton: I'd say so.

Kell: Help me win. Please.

Aiden: Who's cheating now?

Kell: There's no rule that says you can't have someone help you.

Peyton: Don't put it there. One step right.

Kell: Here?

Peyton: Yeah.

9. Aiden: Peyton, I love you so much.

Kell: Dude. Did you just make me lose?

Peyton: [Shrug]

Kell: Fuck you. Both of you.

[New scene]

10.

Sam: You met Aiden right after the car crash.

Jordan: Yes.

Sam: How bad was it? He never told me.

Jordan: Considering the crash, his injuries were very mild.

Sam: But he could've died.

Jordan: He didn't. And I don't think you need to worry about something that happened six years ago.

Sam: No, I just...

Jordan: Just what?

Sam: I don't know.

11. Sam: I hated Aiden when we first met.

Jordan: According to Kell's accounts you were simultaneously in love with him?

Sam: Attracted to. There's a difference.

Jordan: Not to me.

Sam: And how many successful relationships have you had?

Jordan: Well... I've certainly had relationships, I can tell you that much.

12. Sam: Don't you get tired of talking to new people all the time? How do you even find so many people you're interested in? I did it once and now I'm marrying him so I never have to do it again.

Jordan: It's easy if you're drunk and have very, very low standards. It also helps if you're fresh off a 13 hour shift at a hospital.

Sam: That sounds awful.

Jordan: I don't necessarily recommend it.

13. Sam: But you keep doing it.

Jordan: I suppose I have nothing better to do after those 13 hour shifts.

Sam: I'm so glad I dropped out of med school.

Jordan: You should be.

14. Sam: I'm just going to get some water.

Jordan: Okay.

15. Lucas: No, I had to do it because Michael thought it was "rude".

Michael: It was.

Lucas: If I pay for something, I want what I paid for. That's not rude. If I fuck someone's tattoo up I'd fix it.

Michael: You can't compare a meal to something that's permanently on someone's body.

Lucas: You agree with me.

Peyton: Oh, yeah.

Lucas: Exactly!

16. Peyton: Hey, Sam. How are you doing? Sleeping better?

Sam: A little.

Peyton: So... while you're here... Aiden.

Sam: Yes?

17. Peyton: He's acting... suspiciously normal, isn't he?

Lucas: Right? I literally told Michael the same thing ten minutes ago. This is the way Aiden always acts after medical emergencies, he just pretends everything's fine.

18. Sam: It's been a month. Things have gone back to normal, he's not pretending.

Lucas: No, sorry, no offense, Sam, but I don't think you get it. You weren't there all the other times he had to go to the hospital because of drugs--and that shouldn't be plural, by the way--this happens every time.

19. Lucas: He says he's fine and that he's clean now and then he just waits until people stop asking him about it and we're back at square one.

Sam: This was different though.

Lucas: Just because it was worse and because he maybe went through a tiny little bit of withdrawal while unconscious doesn't mean he's magically better.

Michael: Lucas, please.

20. Michael: You yourself said that there's nothing we can do.

Lucas: Well, we can't exactly force him to do anything but there's a difference between overcaring and pushing him away, and being so passive it turns into enabling.

Michael: I agree, but I don't think that has anything to do with Sam.

Lucas: I didn't say it does.

21. Lucas: I just don't want him dead, that's all.

Peyton: I seriously doubt any of us want him dead.

Lucas: Exactly. So we can't just trust that he's better because he says he is.

Sam: That's not what--[Sigh] I don't think it's fair to talk about this behind his back.

22. Lucas: I'd love to discuss this with him directly but he makes it pretty difficult. There's a reason he didn't want to talk to us for a fucking month.

Sam: Maybe it wasn't deliberate. Maybe he was just recovering from a coma.

Lucas: But he was talking to literally everyone else during that time, wasn't he? It's not a coincidence he ignored me, Michael, and Peyton specifically.

23. Sam: I... I don't know his motivation. And either way I don't want to be involved in this.

Peyton: That's fair. I didn't really mean for this to be a whole discussion.

Lucas: Sorry. Look, my point is just... if he's clean, that's fucking great. But I kind of doubt it. Just... keep an eye on him.

Sam: I always am.

[akkrosu]

Thank you, @recentadultburnout, for tagging me and asking for my nine favorite TV shows! I might have gone a little overboard because I haven’t been tagged a lot before, but please indulge me.

This is going to be limited to QLs, if only because I couldn’t think of a single piece of Western (or straight) media I love and/or remember well enough to be able to put on this list. The ones I have chosen are below, in no particular order.

1. The Untamed

This one belongs here both for being a fantastic story and for being the reason I even discovered any of the other series on this list. My entire “obsessed with Asian queer media” thing started all because a friend once told me, “Let me show you what I’ve been watching recently.” What can I say, drunk Lan Zhan got to me.

2. Moonlight Chicken

One of the most beautiful, thought-provoking and mature series I’ve ever seen, QL or otherwise. P’Aof is a genius and I would have to hide in shame if I didn’t have at least one of his works on this list. He created a narrative of six real people trying to figure out life and how to be happy and there is so much strength in every single one of them.

3. Not Me

With at least three watchthroughs one of my most-watched BLs. I mean, OffGun and the social commentary and political action and the queerness of it all and the characters. Ugh, I love this show. Plus, the music and musical editing were phenomenal.

4. Where Your Eyes Linger

Probably my favorite Korean BL ever? Also the KBL to really get me into KBLs, so it already deserves a medal for that (I was missing out on so much). I’m a sucker for good yearning and forbidden relationships, and this series gave me everything I wanted. And, again, the soundtrack. The instrumental of See U playing as Kang Gook storms Tae Joo’s dad’s house lives rent-free in my mind.

5. HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count

Yes, it’s the other HIStory 3, the one everyone ignores because ‘he went out to buy salt’. Look, don’t judge me, I own up to my love for this series. It’s not the show’s fault all anyone ever remembers is the tragic ending. It’s also such a beautiful story about a total dork falling in love with a lonely nerd and defying all odds to be with him. Plus, the best sibling relationship ever. And (spoiler) said dork dying doesn’t invalidate everything else the series tells us. Yes, it was sad, but I can deal with the sadness. And sometimes, the sadness is as much part of a show as it is of life.

6. The Eclipse

This series haunts me to this day. I was obsessed with it, and I still am. Akk is one of my favorite characters ever written, and First portrayed him beautifully. So did Khaotung with Ayan. The sheer existence of P’Golf baffles my mind to this day. These 12 episodes gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

7. The Eighth Sense

I take back what I said about Where Your Eyes Linger. This is my favorite KBL. I’m not even sure I can explain why. It’s just so honest. And so, so queer. It made me cry so many times, and the storytelling was magnificent. Plus, it’s one of the few full-length KBLs we have.

8. We Best Love

The cups in my profile picture are the ones Yu Zhenxuan and Pei Shouyi drink out of in the flashbacks of the second season, so... yeah.

This was my very first QL that wasn’t a bromance, and so I’m very biased. I’m almost mad at myself for making this my first one, because sometimes it feels like nothing else could ever live up to it. I admit to having a special love for season 1, even though season 2 seems to be the one people talk about a lot more. It’s just perfect, everything about it. Especially Gao Shide’s mom.

9. My School President

What a phenomenal show. I remember how much I was looking forward to Fridays during the time this was airing, and each week it gave me everything I wanted. Gemini and Fourth are fantastic actors, the friend groups made me cry all the time, it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen, and there are some absolute bangers in there, musically speaking. Gun and Tinn will always have a special place in my heart.

Some honorable mentions because it’s really hard to pin down exactly nine:

Never Let Me Go – I spent a lot of time debating whether to put this or MSP in this list because I love them both equally. And because they aired around the same time, they are sort of irrevocably tied together in my mind.

Big Dragon – I loved this significantly more than I ever expected to, and I can’t be impartial about Yai to this day, because I love him with all my heart. This was such a messy, weird, chaotic show, and yet it somehow gave us such beauty and sappy people in love.

Step by Step – It doesn’t get to be on the list because it hasn’t finished airing yet, and so it could still fuck up, but if it keeps going like this, it is definitely going to become one of my favorites. (Same with Be My Favorite, honestly.)

I don’t know many people around here, and certainly not many I wouldn’t feel awkward tagging, but I’ll just be awkward anyway and kindly ask @ellaspore and @biochemjess if they feel up for it. I wanna know! (No pressure, though.)

[1358456]

Vacation!

So, I have returned from my first vacation in 4 years! ... Well, I returned yesterday, and I was so tired, I just didn’t want to make the Tumblr posts and all that stuff.

Where did I go? Halifax, Nova Scotia! ... Hurricane Fiona blasted the area a solid week before I went there, so I dodged quite the storm!

Of course, we didn’t go all the way to Halifax just for Halifax. The three tiniest Canadian provinces are all right there, so... visit all of them!

We COULD have driven to Halifax, but... that’ll take days to get there, and we only have 2.5 days. Can’t leave our store to just employees for any longer, lest they f*ck things up real bad. So... we had to fly there. 2 hour flight! Not bad at all.

And so the moment we touched down at Halifax airport and rented a car after standing in line for 50 minutes, we headed to our first destination: Peggys Cove just southwest of Halifax.

The home of the famous lighthouse overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. ... It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the Atlantic Ocean! I’ve seen the Pacific when I lived in Korea, but I haven’t seen an ocean in over 20 years!

As is the nature of things, the photos don’t really capture just how refreshing and nice it is out there. And this is not a beach, so no going in the water. We had to walk/jump/climb across a bunch of giant rocks to get as close to the ocean as possible, while not touching the parts of the rock where the ocean reaches during high tide. I was a bit nervous, but as I have said, unlike a few years ago, I’m not a disaster magnet anymore. I was able to get to where we wanted to go without quite breaking my leg for the third time.

Everything looked so beautiful though. I loved it! The air was so refreshing. Then again, the air was super refreshing everywhere in this trip, since we were always within close proximity to the Atlantic Ocean.

After sitting on the rocks for over an hour, we went to a mud flat that’s been exposed by low tides. The water is very cold, but super refreshing, and... as is the nature of a mud flat... there are lots of creatures hiding in the mud, occasionally shooting water. A small squirt of water from the mud, and I looked down to see this small worm-like thing staring at me, I stepped near it, and it shot another squirt of water before retreating. I dug into the mud, and found a clam the size of my two fists put together.

Next morning, as we’re eating breakfast in the hotel, I took a picture of the outside. And see the giant lake fog rising from the water near the town. It’s so eerie and cool!

Next destination: Bay of Fundy in Alma, New Brunswick! See the world’s highest tides! ... Obviously, we didn’t go there during high tide, since there’d be nothing to see. But in low tide, we can actually walk on the ocean surface! And here we see just how high the moss and ocean plant life clings on the rocks, since the water level rises that high during high tide.

The water reaches up a good 4~5 meters above the mud below, and that’s not even counting how high the mud is from the water surface during the low tide. The wind feels super cool and refreshing too. And that’s going to be a common theme!

Once again climbing the sharp rocks and slippery mud to reach a good vantage point, and once again not breaking my legs! ... As we’re standing here, taking in the sights, the water level’s steadily rising.

And now, after lunch, we head off to Prince Edward Island (PEI)! Of course, PEI is an island (duh), so... how do we drive there?

Across Confederation Bridge, of course! A bridge across the ocean?! Oooh!

... This is all I could see. The barricade was raised too high. I mean, I understand, but... aww...

You can kind of see what it’s like when the bridge rises up a bit, but it wasn’t exactly awe inspiring.

So PEI mostly looks like this. Well, I mean... the island is basically a giant potato farm. And boy howdy there were a LOT of potato dishes in restaurants all over the Maritime Provinces. ... And they were all so good. These were the best fries and potato salads I’ve ever had in all my years in Canada.

And PEI took a beating from Hurricane Fiona. Half the towns didn’t have power, half of the buildings were either undergoing repairs or have been repaired recently. Thousands of trees were uprooted or broken in half, some fallen onto cars, some fallen on the roads, etc. While it was really interesting to see a gigantic tree toppled onto its side, with its roots all pulled up along with the grass, I felt that taking pictures wouldn’t be right, so I didn’t. Don’t take pictures of other people’s disasters, however fascinating the tree might’ve been.

And for dinner, we went to the capital of PEI and also its biggest city, Charlottetown. ... A giant tree had fallen over a major power line, and so a huge chunk of the city didn’t have power, and it felt as if the population that didn’t have power all rushed over to the part that did have power. But we managed to find a nice restaurant there, with an absolutely lovely view.

After a wonderful and very expensive meal ($300?!), we took a walk by the pier, enjoyed the lovely and refreshing night ocean air, and then drove back to Halifax. ... Took 5 hours. Yes, PEI is a tiny province. But it’s still Canada, and Canada’s tiniest province is still pretty big. But, that day, we had breakfast in Nova Scotia, lunch in New Brunswick, and dinner in PEI. Three meals, three provinces.

And then after breakfast in Halifax hotel again, we headed back to the airport, flew back to Toronto, and learned of employee troubles because of course. And I have to say, the air in Toronto is definitely not nearly as refreshing as in any of the Maritime Provinces. And every meal we had there was really good... and expensive. But it’s a vacation, so prices are ignored. As long as they’re tasty, it’s fine. And they were quite tasty indeed. So all in all, a perfect tiring vacation (we drove over 1000 km in the last full day).

Eh, maybe one day I’ll go back. A bit more relaxed vacation, maybe, where we’re not trying to cram in as much as possible into each day. I mean, we didn’t get to go to Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia this time, so... definitely one day.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Poison Kiss (But, Like, In A Good Way)

A poisoned Tang Fan is hot, then cold.

Sui Zhou takes care of him.

(come for the overdramatic beginning, stay for the fluff!)

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty - Suitang - 1.7k - T - pretty fluffy overall - AO3

_____________________________

Heat, flaming heat, melting his skin and cooking his marrow—

Something wet. Water? Cold, wet, all around him—

Tang Fan opens his eyes. He’s in the bathtub, with Sui Zhou and Old Pei standing over him. Sui Zhou is bent over the rim of the tub and holding him from behind as if afraid that Tang Fan will slip beneath the water if he lets go. He does so slowly, keeping a grip on his arm as he moves around the tub to look down at Tang Fan.

Old Pei breathes a sigh of relief as Tang Fan blinks. “How do you feel?”

Tang Fan blinks. The room is spinning, Sui Zhou’s worried face the only thing in clear focus. “I feel—I feel—hot—”

“I need to get more ice.” Sui Zhou ladles cold water over Tang Fan’s shoulders. “I’ll find someone—”

“No.” Old Pei’s voice is grave. “I don’t think ice will help. The heat is coming from within…take him out, Sui Zhou.”

Gently, Sui Zhou lifts Tang Fan from the bath, wrapping his naked body in a towel. “Hang in there,” he tells Tang Fan, almost too low to hear. “Old Pei is working on something…”

“Get him back to bed.”

Sui Zhou carries Tang Fan back to bed. His arms are warm, too warm, but there’s a sense of security about him that Tang Fan clings to even as he feels himself begin to float, mind adrift again.

Hot. Too hot…

Something soft beneath him as Sui Zhou lays him down in bed. He removes the towel, draping it modestly over Tang Fan’s midsection but leaving the rest of him bare to sweat into the sheets.

“What now?” he hears Sui Zhou’s asking. A tugging sensation at his scalp, and he hazily thinks that someone must be combing out his wet hair. “He can’t go on like this.”

“I know—I know—let me think—”

A damp cloth dabbing his jaw, his throat, his chest. The familiar scent of Sui Zhou’s soap, the soap he’d brought home from the army, a clean fresh scent, as Sui Zhou bends near him. The faint scent of cooking, still clinging to Sui Zhou's clothes. Sui Zhou’s hair, tickling his bare chest as Sui Zhou sponges his skin. His face, magnified by Tang Fan's fever: his eyes wide with worry, usual dark circles under his eye even darker, well-formed lips slightly parted as if about to speak—

Tang Fan reaches up with a shaking hand, hooks a finger in Sui Zhou’s collar, pulls him down, pulls him close.

Kisses him.

He’s too hazy to have put much thought into it. Any thought into it.

The kiss is soft and sweet and broken abruptly by Sui Zhou as he jerks away.

A small gasping sound, and Old Pie’s amused voice: “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but—”

“He’s delirious!”

A clucking sound. “It’s alright, Sui Zhou. I’m a broadminded man, though I can’t say I’m—”

“Doctor Pei, this is not—”

A laugh. “I’m not judging you. Take care of him. I have a lead on some ice. Keep sponging him down! Give it another hour, then you can bathe him again. I’ll be right back—”

A flap of material, and the sound of a door closing.

Sui Zhou looks down at Tang Fan. He stares up at him, eyes bright, face flushed. He’s in just his kun, or drawers, looking even thinner and frailer than usual after days of fever and malnourishment. He's begun to move again, as if the heat in his skin has become painful. Gently Sui Zhou pins him to the bed, his skin hot beneath his hands.

"Just lie still," he whispers, keeping his head back this time, out of kissing range. "Hush. Lie still...."

The sound of his voice seems to sooth Tang Fan, and he stops moving, though he still grasps at Sui Zhou's robe, as if trying to draw him closer.

Leaning away, Sui Zhou dips a cloth into a bowl of tepid water and begins dabbing at Tang Fan’s narrow chest, sponging the ice-cold sweat from his skin. He’s still alarmingly warm to the touch, damp hair stuck to his throat and shoulders, skin pink and splotchy, lips white and chapped.

Lips that had…

Delirious. Tang Fan must be delirious…

Tang Fan reaches up a long slender arm, resting his hot sweaty hand on Sui Zhou’s cheek.

“Where did Old Pei go?” he asks. His voice is rough, almost inaudible. “Don’t leave me too…”

Sui Zhou swallows. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Don’t…”

“I won’t.” He removes Tang Fan’s hand and wipes it down, laying it gently on the coverlet. “I’m here. I’m still here…”

Tang Fan tilts his head. “I knew you wouldn’t, Guangchuan. I can always count on you. Always.”

Sui Zhou swallows a surge of anxiety. Tang Fan, for all his surface frivolity and friendliness, is not one to speak about his feelings, or anything truly intimate. Sui Zhou can count on one hand the number of times he’d said anything like that.

And as for the kiss—

Tang Fan closes his eyes.

Gently, Sui Zhou runs the washcloth over Tang Fan’s flushed limbs. His skin is smooth and unscarred, the long slender lines of his throat meeting his frail-looking collarbones, his whole appearance of that of something fragile and beautifully delicate.

Something to be protected.

He turns him over on his stomach, moves his damp hair aside, and sponges the sweat from his bony pink-and-white back. His shoulder blades are sharp, his backbone a long bumpy line, his ribs visible.

Tang Fan twitches, rolling over on his side. “Guangchuan?”

“Still here.”

Weakly, Tang Fan pushes the damp cloth away. “I’m cold now.”

Sui Zhou feels his forehead. Tang Fan is right. With alarming abruptness his hot pink skin has gone white and cold to the touch, his entire body wracked with sudden chills.

Sui Zhou straightens in alarm. “I’ll go heat water for a bath—”

“Don’t leave me!” Tang Fan is speaking more clearly than before, but there’s unmistakably febrile panic choking his voice. “Don’t leave me alone—”

“I can’t let you freeze—”

Tang Fan clutches the front of Sui Zhou’s robe. “You’re warm.”

“I…”

Tang Fan moves aside, one trembling grayish hand on the sweaty sheets beside him. “Please, Guangchuan, I’m so cold—haven’t you ever been cold?—”

That settles it for Sui Zhou. He has been cold. Many times, while serving at the border. Cold, and hungry, and alone, and—not that he would admit it aloud—afraid, at times, as Tang Fan is now. At least until the creeping numbness took over as he kept surviving, and surviving, and surviving while everyone around him died...

He removes his damp outer clothes and crawls into bed beside Tang Fan, pulling the blankets over them. Tang Fan curls into him, a shivering bundle of bones. He wraps his arms around him tightly, moving Tang Fan’s hair away from his cold clammy skin so that it can dry without chilling Tang Fan further.

Tang Fan’s face is pressed against the hollow of his throat, his shallow breath cool on his skin. Sui Zhou pulls him closer, making sure the bedclothes are tucked tightly around them, keeping his warmth contained for Tang Fan to absorb.

He’s never shared a bed with someone before, definitely not someone pressed tightly against him like a sick kitten. Tang Fan is trembling, shivering violently, ice-cold hands inside Sui Zhou’s undershirt and pressed against his chest as if seeking his warmth.

Sui Zhou reaches around him, runs his hands up and down Tang Fan’s arms, tries to rub heat back into him. Tang Fan's arms are too lean, with little flesh or muscle to warm his fragile body. Hesitantly, fearing he’s going too far but uncertain of how else to help the shaking bundle of bones in his arms, Sui Zhou wraps a leg around Tang Fan, pinning Tang Fan’s long thin legs between his.

Take it, he wants to say. Take my warmth, take all of it…

Slowly, Tang Fan stops shaking, his violent trembling tapering into a gentle shiver. He moves slightly, resting his head on Sui Zhou’s shoulder. His eyes are still hot and glazed, but his breathing is deeper, steadier, chest moving against Sui Zhou’s.

Sui Zhou is afraid to move. He’s not used to this. He’s used to protecting by using his body as a weapon, not something that can warm, heal, comfort.

But it’s always been like that with Tang Fan, he realizes suddenly. And with Dong’er, brought into his life by Tang Fan. He's never done this kind of thing before, but cooking for them is something soft, something nurturing, something that gives life instead of bloodily protecting it.

“I want soup,” Tang Fan murmurs as if he can read his thoughts. “A brand-new soup.”

Sui Zhou feels his forehead again. He wants so badly to stay like this, but there's a fear again, a fear of what this might mean. A memory of the kiss—not a memory. The kiss has yet to have left his mind at all...

“Are you hungry again, or just cold?" he asks. "I’ll go fix you something—”

“No.” Tang Fan’s fingers dig into Sui Zhou’s chest, his voice a mere whisper. “Stay with me.”

Sui Zhou wonders if it’s the fever talking, as he’s certain it was for a kiss. It’s as if Sui Zhou is a giant puppy or a hot stone wrapped in cloth and tucked under the covers, warming Tang Fan. Nothing more than that. Anyone could do the same thing…

“Guangchuan." Tang Fan is almost inaudible. “You won’t leave me, right?”

Sui Zhou swallows. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“I mean…if I get well…”

“You will.”

“…if I get well…you won’t leave me, will you?”

“Why would I leave you?”

“Make me leave you. I owe so much in rent…and food…”

"Forget all that." Sui Zhou smiles to himself, suddenly wanting to laugh, not something he feels often. Tang Fan is still cold against him, but Sui Zhou suddenly feels warm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Tang Fan presses his face against Sui Zhou, fingers beginning to lose some of their chill. “Promise?” he murmurs.

“I promise.” He wants to ask him about the kiss, but he has time.

Tang Fan will get better. He knows he will.

And now that he’s promised him free rent and food, he’ll never get rid of him.

Pulling Tang Fan closer, he closes his eyes and thinks of soup.

______________________

Enjoy? AO3

[royalcordelia]

The Secret of Distance (2/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn’t easy, but they’re more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story). 

Notes: If you want to be tagged when the next chapter is posted, I can do that! I’ve seen others do that, and wanted to throw it out there.

~~*~~

Gilbert had grown so accustomed to the rattling of the window on the side of his face, that as the train slowed to a stop, he roused from his sleep. Around him, passengers shuffled on tired feet down the aisle of the train, but Gilbert squinted tiredly, adjusting to his surroundings. Where was he again? 

Outside the train,  a sign was lit up by electric lights: “Welcome to Toronto, Ontario.”

Oh, that’s right, he thought to himself, I’m going to medical school. At 4:30 in the morning it seemed. As he grabbed his trunk, his brain felt like it was trudging through mud. He’d left PEI on a ship to the mainland, then situated himself on the train for a fifteen hour trip. And he had kissed Anne. 

That woke Gilbert up. He had kissed Anne at exactly noon yesterday, and she had kissed him back. He kissed Anne. She tasted the way he expected sunshine would taste if you could jar it like honey. She fit perfectly against him when he pulled her close, drawn to him as strongly as he was to her. Soft hair framed her face, feathery tufts that grazed his fingers when he held her cheek. He’d never forget the sight of her, so beautifully grown, yet so breathtakingly Anne . The thought was distracting enough that he didn’t realize his footsteps had slowed to a halt in the middle of the path. 

He might’ve stood there forever, burning the memory of Anne’s kiss into his mind, but a drunkard rambled past him, colliding with his shoulder. Gilbert stumbled on his feet, righting his coat on his shoulders with a bristled frown. He needed to find his new apartment before he was swept away into whatever unsavory things happened at four in the morning.

From one of his hidden inside pockets, he pulled out a note in Miss Stacy’s familiar script. 

Gilbert, 

Emily couldn’t get you into a boarding house because of your late admission. She does, however, know a young man who has an extra room in his apartment. He’s agreed to let you board with him, and will leave the door unlocked so you may let yourself in. You’ll find Ronald Stuart at 293 North Sunset St - the right hand apartment. 

Good luck on all your endeavors! I know you’ll exceed beyond our expectations. 

Your Exceedingly-Proud Educator, 

Miss Muriel Stacy

Gilbert didn’t know much about this Ronald Stuart, but had sent the young man a letter telling him when to expect him. Part of him was glad he wouldn’t be living under the supervision of an owner of a boarding house, like Anne certainly would be. If he found this Ronald Stuart agreeable, they could become close friends and enact their own rules, answering only to themselves and to each other. 

The house on 293 North Sunset St. was a sizeable place built of bricks the same color as the PEI roads back home. Gilbert snuck as quietly as he could up the creaky stairs leading to the door of his new apartment, before twisting the door knob. Stubbornly, it refused to budge. 

Gilbert peaked at the house number, then his note, then tried the door again, this time with more strength. Maybe Ronald hadn’t gotten his letter in time? Maybe he’d forgotten to leave the door unlocked. 

There was nothing to do about it. He rapped his knuckles hard enough on the door that the noise likely could be heard by the next door neighbors. Even so, the door remained closed. The chilly August air was beginning to sink into his bones. Gilbert knocked again, more aggressively this time. 

“I hear ya, I hear ya!” came a voice from inside the house. Gilbert took a step back from the door, steeling himself for whatever would come once the door opened. A shadowy figure appeared behind the curtains before the door swung open. 

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Mr. Stuart?” 

The fellow before him was a tall one, lanky with hard angles. His dark hair was a mop upon his head where long, straight hair stuck out in all directions. Long eyebrows quirked back at Gilbert, who clenched his jaw. 

“Gil?” the man answered back. Gilbert cocked his head. No one called him Gil. Not even Bash or Anne. 

“Yes, that’s me. Gilbert Blythe. The door was locked, otherwise I’d have let myself in.” 

Ronald ran a hand through his hair, tousling it into an even greater mess. He stepped aside and let Gilbert enter the space. 

“I was real glad was Dr. Oak reached out to me about you coming to stay,” Ronald explained with a yawn. “The last fellow who stayed here graduated last spring, and I’ve been having trouble paying for the whole apartment myself. It’s not much, but it’s plenty for two men to share.” 

Gilbert pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to his new roommate. Inside was the first of four years’ worth of rent payments. Bash had promised to send Gilbert his share of the farm’s earnings in plenty of time each month for him to pay his debts. 

“That reminds me, this is for you,” Gilbert said. Ronald only tossed the envelope on a nearby table and leaned against it, tired eyes examining his new roommate. 

“You drink?” he asked. Gilbert couldn’t tell if the man was offering or judging. 

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. 

“You snore?” 

Gilbert frowned. “...Not...that I know of?” 

Ronald shrugged and headed up the stairs. 

“We can talk in afternoon. I’m going back to sleep. Your room is up the stairs on the right. Mine’s on the left. There’s one more empty room, for guests I guess, if you ever have any.” 

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek. Would the people from home ever come all the way to Toronto just to see him? Adjusting his cases in his hands, Gilbert took a deep breath. 

“Alright, thank you.” But Ronald had already gone. 

Outside, the street echoed silence around, giving it an eerie stillness. If he hadn’t been so tired, he might’ve felt the weight of being so far away from home and his family. But exhaustion prevailed in numbing his thoughts, and he found his bed without any welcoming ceremony. Laying fully dressed on top of his blankets, Gilbert fell deep into sleep. 

~~*~~

“You a novelist or something?” 

Gilbert looked up from the kitchen table and found Ronald in the doorway. He must’ve looked like some sort of writer, with pages upon pages of inked words spread across the table in front of him. A mug of coffee steamed at both places and at the table, and Gilbert nodded down to it. Ronald accepted it appreciatively, sipping it with a satisfied smile. In the daylight, and perhaps after bathing, the man seemed to have a sophisticated air about him that came solely from his looks and not his attitude.

“No, I’m just writing some letters home. There are a few people who’d want to know I made it here in one piece,” Gilbert replied, somewhat nostalgic for home. His gaze found the opening line of the paper in  front of him: My Anne...

“Where is home, anyway?” 

“Avonlea, PEI.” 

“That far away, eh? No wonder you wandered up to the house so early this morning. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of Avonlea, though.” Gilbert nodded politely, not sure how much Ronald Stuart wanted to share about himself or how much he wanted to share in return. “I’m Ron, by the way. I apologize that I’m not terribly friendly before seven in the morning.” 

Gilbert chuckled and shook his head. 

“I guess I didn’t realize the trip would be over sixteen hours. Sorry for waking you up.” 

Ron got up from the table, grabbing some bread from the breadbox and shoving a piece into his mouth. 

“What made you want to come here, anyway?” 

“Ah, my teacher from home knows Dr. Oak. I was initially intending on attending the, uh...well, the Sorbonne in France, but I changed my mind.” 

The expression on Ron’s face told Gilbert he was not convinced.

“Yeah right, you just weren’t accepted. That or you can’t speak french.” 

“No, I was accepted - or as good as, anyway. I just chose not to go.” Gilbert paused. “But you’re right, I don’t speak french very well.” 

Ron’s jaw dropped. 

“I didn’t take you for an idiot, Gilbert.” 

Gilbert straightened his shoulders, crossing his arms defensively. 

“It’s a long story, one that I’m sure would make perfect sense if you were to hear it.” He paused. Would this Ronald Stuart be convinced that genuine love was more valuable than an educational opportunity? “But to tell the truth, I’d like to just write these letters and get them sent out before the post is collected in a few hours.” Ron held up his hands in surrender and trekked back up to his room. 

Returned to silence, Gilbert tilted his face to the sun pouring in from the kitchen window. He wondered if Anne was enjoying the same warmth on her first day of school. Picking his pen back up, he continued to write.

My Anne, 

I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter. It does my heart such good knowing that wherever you are, you might be anticipating this specific correspondence. I’d like to begin this particular letter by informing you that I have made it to Toronto safe and sound - albeit at four in the morning! I haven’t been a train for such a long period of time since I traveled with my father. Should you still desire to be my penpal (though I hope you’ll want to be a much more than penpals) you’ll find my complete address on the envelope. North Sunset street is just as beautiful as it sounds. 

Have I beat around the bush with enough formality? I may as well jump right in.

Anne, what a fool I’ve been. I’ve had sixteen hours to compose the perfect way to reveal to you in extensive detail all the ways I’ve been a fool, but I fear I don’t have your gift with language, so you will just have to tolerate my inadequate explanations. As Diana might have informed you, I never received your letter, and for the sake of clarity and fairness, I’m going to assume that you never received mine.  

I want to eradicate every doubt in your mind. Anne, I never had any real, genuine feelings for Winifred. I have learned the hard way that there is a vast difference between enjoying someone’s company and genuine love. When you love someone, you don’t just enjoy their company. You ache until the next moment you see that person, yet they’re always with you - in your mind, in your heart. The extent to which I adore you and take pride in your existence is so overwhelming that I wonder why I thought I could ever settle for anything else. Is it bold for me to hope you feel the same way? I truly do love you, Anne. 

With all that disclosed, I’m certain there are times when I made you feel like I didn’t care for you at all. For that, I hope you know how very ashamed and sorry I am. You won’t ever feel like that again, I promise. If, in our separation, you grow doubtful or lonely, I’ll be on the first train bound for Charlottetown. 

As for follow up questions: 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, when in heaven’s name did you start to have feelings for me? Most days I was certain I’d never win your heart, but then I’d catch you looking across the classroom and think maybe it wasn’t so hopeless after all. 

Did you receive the letter I left you in your room? You never said anything, so I wondered. Oh! And what did your letter say? I’m so bitter that it disappeared.

Are you well? How are you adjusting to being away from home? I know Green Gables was so precious to you. How is Queens? Do your new classmates adore you, yet? I’m certain they do.

I’m sure I will have more questions the more I fondly remember each encounter I’ve had with you, but for now, I won’t bombard you. 

As for me, I’m better now that I’ve arrived to Toronto and have unpacked all my things. My roommate, Ron, is a peculiar brand, and it’s still unclear as to whether or not he is - as you’d say - a kindred spirit. So far, I have my doubts. We’ve known each other all of eight hours and he’s already called me an idiot. But we have our own bedrooms, and there’s more than enough space for the two of us, so I can’t complain. Class begins tomorrow, but I’ve some final paperwork to complete. I hope to explore the campus and learn all the hidden nooks where a medical student might read and daydream about his love back home.

I still have to write to Bash, and I want to send this as soon as possible, so I’ll conclude here. I miss you terribly already. Yet, how thankful I am that we got the time we did. 

Know that I remain always 

Yours, 

Gilbert 

(PS:  My roommate called me Gil at our first meeting. I’ve not decided if I like it yet, but maybe if you call me by that name, I’ll warm up to it.)

(PSS: Is it too much trouble if I ask you to enclose a picture of yourself, or something that I can keep on my bedside table that will remind me of you?)

Gilbert had just folded the letter up and sealed it, when Ron came back into the room. In his hand was a picture frame that Gilbert recognized immediately. 

“Who’s this?” Ron asked. 

Gilbert snatched the frame, eyes icy. 

“Were you going through my things?” 

“I was just leaving some clean linens, and I saw it on your table. Not trying to pry, but I’m...curious.” 

Gilbert peered down at the frame, and felt a wave of homesickness sweep over him. It was a photograph he’d had taken shortly before Hazel had come to live in the house. It had been difficult to find a photographer who wouldn’t fall prey to their prejudices. 

“It’s my brother and my niece,” he explained. Ron seemed to sense the thin ice he stood on, so he nodded. 

“She’s sweet,” he commented, nodding down at Delphine’s bright eyes. 

“The sweetest,” Gilbert agreed, pushing away the photograph when he felt his throat close up. They were silent for a few moments when Ron fixed his eyes on Gilbert.

“Why didn’t you go to the Sorbonne?” he asked evenly. Gilbert matched the serious gaze, unashamed of his choices.

“I would’ve had to marry a girl I didn’t love, and leave behind the one I do.” 

Ron’s face didn’t change, but the lack of judgement was slightly promising. 

“Family and love, huh? Wish I could relate.”  Then he spun on his heels and headed toward the front door. “Well, I’m off.” 

“Oh, uh, bye?” 

The tense, awkward air in the room evaporated when the door slammed behind Ron. A long exhale left Gilbert’s lips and he grabbed a clean sheet of paper. This letter to Bash continued much like his letter to Anne’s had, full of apprehension about Ronald Stuart and anxiousness about the impending start of school. He’d exhausted all of his mildly uninteresting topics before he added:

I do have some news that might interest you. Anne and I are...well, I don’t know for certain what we are. Courting? Yes likely. More than friends? Absolutely. Together? In every way a man can be together with his love across 1000 of distance. I ended things with Winifred and ran like a madman through Charlottetown to see if Anne would give me one last shot. She did. Thank god, she did.

My courtship with Winifred actually ended two weeks ago, as poorly as you can imagine. But I did right by her in every way I could, and respected her enough to be honest that I could not be with her if it’s Anne that I so greatly adore. Not that I said Anne by name, but Winifred knew. She made me promise not to tell anyone until she could safely leave Charlottetown, which is why you are just hearing about this now. Though I regret having humiliated her to the point of returning back to France, I feel so much...lighter, happier. Knowing that Anne cares for me the way I care for her leaves me feeling confident I made the right choice. I think Winifred will see that one day, too. 

I miss you, Bash. Delly too. The more I’m here, the harder it is to imagine that I’ll be living without you. I can barely remember what it was like when it was just me - without my brother, without the laughter of the baby. There’s a room here for guests if you ever want to visit, but I’ll come home when I can. Something tells me if I stray from Avonlea too long, something vital in me will starve.

I love you all. I hope the harvest is going well.

Your brother, 

Gilbert.

With both letters sealed and addressed, Gilbert stepped out onto the new streets, drinking in the Toronto sun as he made his way toward town. 

[littlemissnellie]

and finally for the san myshuno crowd is a household of my own, which I creatively named: city friends. 

when noah’s girlfriend took off in the middle of the night without a word of explanation and no means of contacting her, noah was left in a bit of pickle; he had an apartment he couldn’t pay the rent for alone, a broken heart, and worst of all, a precious little girl, who no longer had her mom. but it was parker that ended up being his saviour because she was the only thing that kept him pushing through to try to find his feet again. so after a couple of failed attempts at looking for suitable roommates, he caught wind of one of his high school friends having moved to the city to try out new cuisines for her flourishing food blog. admittedly, since dating his ex, he hadn’t spoken to peyton for years, but all it took peyton was one look at how hurt he was for her to welcome him, and his daughter, into her cosy apartment. sure, she already had a roommate: the boisterous, but perceptive, artist kimber - but they could easily clear out the office space and swap rooms around so that noah and parker could have the space they needed until he was able to work up a more stable income. it may not be an entirely conventional scenario, but the four of them have grown to become rather attached to one another...

okay, long explanation done. I just love them so much and I wanted to give their story a proper introduction thing instead of having to try to piece bits together from their fact files. I hope you don’t mind! and since I got most of the big storytelling points out of the way there, their fact files hopefully shouldn’t be too long now. 

edit: just finished them an hour and a half later... so nope, they’re not short at all, if anything, they may be my longest yet soooooo, yeah... thought i’d better warn you, ha!

anyway, as always, if you’d like to have them in your game then check out the download link below, and if not then I hope that you enjoy reading their fact files!

download: simfileshare

I hope you’re doing well! <3

peyton callaway:

has always loved trying adventurous new foods, even from a young age - sure, there’s a difference between eating paella and grass from the backyard, but at three years old peyton was willing to give anything a go - she’d just like to think that now her palate’s a little more sophisticated

will hit up ever food stall and food truck she can find on her travels across the city - her camera roll is just full of food pictures (and photos of parker being cute when she babysits her), not only to post on her food blog, but for her to reference when she’s reading through her notes and trying to replicate the recipes for herself at home, because when she’s not eating, she’s probably cooking

loves cartoons - sure, some people may think that they’re childish but she’d choose an animated movie or tv show over anything live-action every single time - and having two aspiring artists at her disposal is super convenient for her ever-growing desire to get better at drawing characters of her own

kimber burke:

super tall, like almost intimidatingly tall and totally owns it - she’s pretty outspoken and her height can help her gain some respect when she’s trying to stand her ground (particularly when defending some of her not so conventional art pieces) - but at the end of the day, her friends know that she’s really a big, gentle giant that gets upset over trampled bumblebees

her height also comes in handy for her side hobby: basketball - she’s plays for their neighbourhood team once a week but if peyton or noah can’t find her in the apartment then they’ll usually just have to look out the window and find her practicing at the hoop across the street

she’s pretty closed off romantically after some not so nice dating situations in high school, so she can often find herself relating to noah’s struggles and offering him a shoulder to cry on - but she’s matured a lot since then and has grown to be comfortable with who she is, which she often expresses through her art, even if it’s not always in the most legal of places... because hey, sometimes canvases are expensive and sidewalks or back alleys are free!

noah osario:

currently working the crappiest of crappy office jobs with a boss he despises, co-workers who are about as exciting as sloths on sedatives and printer that’s almost always jammed - but he’d work that job for the rest of his life if it meant that he could give parker a great one; after all, it’s the thought of going home to her that gets him through his days - her pictures and drawings he keeps on his desk are the only things keeping him grounded and stopping him from hurling his cold cup of coffee in his boss’ face and quitting

once he gets financially stable again though, and he and parker have a place of their own, he’d love to pursue his original passion of being a tattoo artist - he’s constantly working on designs to get done on his own body (which, let’s face it, are mostly sci-fi aliens or superheroes because he’s a big nerd at heart) that his local artist is always impressed by, so he’s hoping that when the time’s right he might be considered for a spot on the team

constantly paranoid about messing up when it comes to parenting - there have been times where he’s put her down for the night and he’s has had to cry into a pillow so that he doesn’t wake her up from her bed in the corner, or when he’s been playing with her stuffed animals and this wave of paranoia and despair crashes over him and he breaks down right in front of her - of course, she ran right over to him gave him all the cuddles and reassurances she could manage at three years old, but from knowing how close his mom and older sister were, he feels so guilty for the fact that he will never be able to give her a relationship like that - peyton and kimber are always there to encourage him, but he’ll always be hard on himself about it because he’s so determined to get it right for her; she’s his whole world, so the last thing he wants to do is screw up

parker osario:

super loving - for a girl that has had to deal with such a lot of upheaval at such a young age, it’s remarkable how chipper and kind she always seems to be - she waves to everyone she passes in the street, draws pictures for everyone in the house and neighbours across the hall and cuddles her stuffed animals for five minutes straight if they so much as fall off her bed - peyton’s convinced she’s going to grow up to be a nurse or even a doctor one day - noah just hopes he’ll be able to scrape together a college fund for her...

absolutely adores her dad - whenever he gets home from work she drops every toy she’s holding to run over and give him a hug - she loves it when he plays with her as well because he’s so good at making up stories and giving all her toys silly voices - she’s learnt not to mention mommy anymore either; she sometimes wonders where she went but when she asked daddy about it he started to cry and that made things even worse because she couldn’t find any tissues for him so she just used her blanket instead and had to cuddle him lots until he was happy enough to play shops with her again 

when she’s not playing with her dad though, she’s more than happy to play with auntie pey-pey or auntie kimmy - auntie pey-pey lets her help make lots of yummy snacks and is really good at doing her hair when daddy can’t get it to go right - and auntie kimmy is great at finger painting and playing aeroplanes at the park - so as much as noah is worried about her not having a mom, she may have ended up with something better: two strong, young women to act as mother-figures and role models in her flaky birth mom’s absence

[peckhampeculiar]

A heartwarming tail as Frank wins best in show

A Nunhead resident who rescued a neglected dog has told of his “immense” pride after his four-legged friend scooped the top prize at last month’s Peckham Rye dog show.

About six years ago, TV director Matt Rams­den was working on a car show up in Oldham, where his team had hired a cheap garage next to a tyre yard.

Matt said: “The tyre yard had got this guard dog that was just left outside all the time. He was there during the day and then at night he was just left outside in a little hutch. This was January, February time up north – it was abso­lutely freezing.

“I’d popped round to the yard a couple of times and the dog stank, it was disgusting. I’d never known a dog smell like that.

“Then one day the business went bust or just stopped opening, so the gates were locked. The dog was just locked in there, week on week, and he was only getting fed once or twice a week.”

Matt tried to persuade the dog’s owner to let him take the animal, but he refused. “I thought, ‘Right, I’m just going to have to wait it out’. I got the guy’s phone, put my number in his phone and said, ‘I want the dog, get in touch when you change your mind’.”

Two months later the man called to say that he could take him. “I rented a car, dog-proofed it, covered it in blankets and drove straight up there. I booked him into a vet up there to get his jabs, because I wanted to be able to take him out for walks. Then I shoved him in the car, drove back to London and got him to my house. I got him in, gave him a couple of hosepipe washes outside and scrubbed him properly.

“I had left at six o’clock that morning to pick him up and it was probably seven o’clock at night by the time I finished. I flopped on the sofa and then the best thing happened. He walked over to the sofa, climbed up and literally gave me a hug. He put his paws around me and his head on my chest.”

Since then the 10-year-old dog, who Matt has renamed Frank and is half bull mastiff, half shar-pei, has had to have his leg rebuilt and a tumour removed. “Dogs are incredibly expensive,” Matt said. “They become like your children!”

When Frank won the best in show category at the hugely popular Peckham Rye dog show, which is part of the annual fete, Matt said it was a “crowning achievement”.

“He was entered for golden oldie and didn’t place, and he was entered for handsome dog – I was like, ‘Well, surely he’s got to win that’. One of my friends was like, ‘How can he not win handsome dog, he’s literally the Tom Hardy of dogs!’ But he didn’t win that either.

“Then I put him in for best in show and I was thinking, ‘There’s no chance he’s going to win this – there’s so many dogs here and he hasn’t won the previous categories’, but I took him along anyway.

“I could see the judges looking over and I thought, ‘Oh my God – Frank’s won it.’ I wasn’t ready for it – it was very emotional, like a vindi­cation. I was so proud, it was the most glorious moment.

“I’ve had his rosette framed by the little fram­er behind Mr Bao in Peckham. It’s a lasting me­morial to Frank’s triumph on the Rye.”

Frank is fully settled in to his new life in Nun­head, and particularly enjoys walks in the cem­etery. “The cemetery is his manor – that’s his new ends,” Matt said.

“He’s got a WhatsApp group with about 15, 20 people in it and all the shops down Nun­head High Street know him – the ladies in the greengrocers, the butchers, the fishmongers and the bakers. Ayres Bakery gave him a free sausage for winning the dog show.”

[dukeofriven]

America: A Prophecy

‘What God is he writes laws of peace, and clothes him in a tempest? What pitying Angel lusts for tears, and fans himself with sighs? What crawling villain preaches abstinence and wraps himself In fat of lambs? No more I follow, no more obedience pay!’ So cried he, rending off his robe and throwing down his sceptre In sight of Albion’s Guardian; and all the Thirteen Angels Rent off their robes to the hungry wind, and threw their golden sceptres Down on the land of America. - William Blake, 1793

America is becoming ungovernable.

It’s simply much too large, too varied, and much too polarized for any one candidate to garner even the plurality of support needed to effectively govern as a president, complicated by the weaknesses of America’s social/political system that demands a democratically-elected executive somehow stand for the nation as a whole.

This isn’t a ‘diversity’ problem or a call for ethnic of cultural homogeneity. I’m from a country with greater diversity than the United States and we manage just fine. (I mean we’re facing a rising tide of rightwing resurgence exacerbated by decades of failure by ruling parties to replace the antiquated first-past-the-post voting system so I wouldn’t call us “fine” but those issues are rooted in numerous social trends, not racial demographics.)

It’s more a condition of the scale of Unites States and the internecine conflicts of groups within it. I remember during the last election hearing a lot about letting perfect be the enemy of good: ‘yes this candidate might not understand your ethnic/social/cultural group particularly well or speak to your issues, but you ought to vote for them anyways.’ From a certain point of view that’s true - I think it hardly uncontroversial to say that the world generally and America specifically is demonstrably worse under Donald Trump than it would have been under Hillary Clinton.

But leaving aside the candidates as individuals for a moment and viewing them purely as symbols the President-As-Unifier and the electoral circus around it becomes faintly absurd. The more often you have say to one group or another ‘stop needing a candidate to be exactly like you and just give them your vote because they’re more like you than the other guy,’ the more you overlook centuries of pain and marginalization. Groups that never had voices before have voices now: loud voices, prominent voices, and they are finding that they don’t want to sit down and shut up in the interest of some mythical unity anymore. They can’t. And therefore these presidential primaries are only going to get worse as things go on. They’re already getting acrimonious again, and those groups who have been told to swallow their voices again and again if they don’t want things to get worse are realizing that they’ve been used as tools as the status quo for far too long. Things don’t get worse when they shut up and vote like they’re told - but they never get better, either. Not in meaningful ways, or not rapidly enough to be meaningful to most of them .(‘By supporting the status quo you achieved a social victory and it only took you 45 years and your entire youth to see it come to fruition.’) The ‘baby-steps’ of change have started to seem less like care and caution and more like infantilization.

When the only people who could vote in America were white, adult, male property-owners you could have two political parties: there really was more that united voters then divided them, such as all voters belonging to the same class, ethnicity, language group, social background, Enlightenment-moulding education praxis, and willingness to compromise on treating human beings as disposable tools for labour. The greater the franchise has expanded in America the farther and further from that ‘unity’ things have gotten.

Since the Trump election in particular the question is asked: “What’s caused the polarization of America?” The real answers are a multitude of factors: unhealed wounds in the body politic after the Second Indochina War; the malaise, complacency, and self-indulgent omphaloskepsis of being the so-called superpower in the 90s; post-colonialism and free market economics bringing the worst ravages of capitalism stateside and decimating the illusion of a stable middle class. There’s lot of reasons as things are rarely simple.

Perhaps the most critical cause, however, the one with the greatest impact, has been this widening of not just the franchise but the gradual realization by the newly-enfranchised that they vocalize social discontent and express it - or at least attempt to express it - through voting. The ‘silent majority’ can only exist when the majority of oppressed and marginalized groups suffer in silence. The divisions that exist now existed in the 1950s, but they are only now being vocalized in such a prominent way. Even the labour movement and the Great Depression in the thirties did not sufficiently create an impression of intractable internecine rivalries such as now can be seen dividing America.

Republicans have understood this for a long time. This is why their politics have grown more and more tribalistic as the years have gone on. So long as they can dominate amongst specific strata of demographics they don’t have to care about winning any kind of nation-wide majority. They can fixate on the plurality that rigidly shares its belief systems: a rigidity created by and continually reenforced by the rhetoric of Republican doctrine and dogma. Democrats coasted on this for years, thinking that if Republicans focused only on a handful of groups then they benefited simply by having everyone else by default.

But it didn’t really work out that way. Gerrymandering by Republican bureaucrats helped a lot here by segmenting voting districts so that anyone outside the Republican voting base got split across multiple voting districts and never coalesced into more than a handful of centralized sources of power that the Democrats could rely on, but there’s a bigger issue. This Republican plurality positioning has only short-term value: they’re a demographic time bomb and as far back as 2012 I can remember their saner members talking about this as a matter of some urgency. But they were ignored, and the GOP is on a death-cult rocket ride to eventual obsolescence, although they’ll pull as much of American down around them as they go in an act of spite.

But that’s not the problem (or, rather, it is a problem but it’s not what I’ve come here to talk about today). Democrats got so used to coasting on being the party of the default that they lack any ability to talk to groups specifically. Nobody likes being taken for granted and they’ve started pushing back. Clinton’s failure to secure a margin of victory overwhelming enough to overcome the limiters of the Electoral College showed that two years ago: plenty of groups stayed home, an act of protest against a party that expected their vote for no other reason than 'not being the other guy.’

Nobody seems to have learned that lesson very well. Imagine two, three presidential elections from now, when the GOP is a spent force whose membership lists are now covered with dead people. (The oldest baby boomers are over 70, and when age brackets start to die in numbers it becomes a cascade. I can remember going from parades of WWII vets to a handful of wheelchair veterans in about a decade, and from some WWI vets to none in the same length of time.) For the younger among you two, three elections might seem like a long time, but it isn’t: years rush by faster than you think. So picture that world with a GOP in terminal decline and a Democratic party witnessing the prophesied triumph of demographic inevitability.

That’s essentially a one-party state, but a party that already struggles to be enough things to enough people now is going to buckle under pressures the American political system simply wasn’t built to handle. America was built around being a two-party state - of being a country in which the majority of people fit comfortably enough into two broad binaries and vote accordingly.

But they don’t, and they can’t, and America as it presently exists may be quite literally ungovernable. The centuries of appalling violence within America only complicate the picture further - it’s the sort of mixture of history, population, and anger that lead to the Balkan Wars, the conflicts between former members of the Warsaw Pact, and more recently the creation of South Sudan. America already had one civil war, there’s no reason to think that a re-fragmenting of America isn’t possible, especially given how contentious the language seems to be among different groups.

America has a scale problem, and I think Americans don’t really understand this. I live in the second largest country in the world by area but nobody actually lives here. See this?

It’s about fifteen years out of date, but the population hasn’t expanded beyond those yellow borders: just make the red bits much redder and you’re golden. Yet even this is still not getting the full picture. Let me show you with my photoshop skills: Everybody in the green bit:

Does not equal the population of the blue bit. If Canadian politics ran purely off of direct voting the entire country would be dominated by a group of people who live in about 0.14% of the country. What this means in practice is that for all that Canada has different grouping of cultural diversity (i.e. the political/social/cultural makeup of PEI as distinct from Vancouver as distinct from Iqaluit), should a civil war of either literal or abstract nature break-out the power of bodies is still located in one place. This is the population density of America:

Look at all those different concentrations of people and power. Like I said Canada does, of course, have other centres of power outside of old Upper/Lower Canada: despite what it thinks Toronto is not the entirety of the universe. But the multiplicity of metropolitan spaces and concentrated population centres such as you have in America don’t exist here. What am I getting at with this? America has spaces of intensely regional identity on an enormous scale. In Canada, for example, even Quebec separatism seems to be dying a slow and painful death. We’ve all got our our local identities, but Canadians are still mostly Canadian first, something else second. America by contrast, have fought a bloody civil war over slavery that afterwards was reshaped (falsely) into a war about regionalism, which mutated later into tribalism. This is why right-wingers in Union states spout Confederate flags. The flag doesn’t represent the literal loyalties of the Confederacy but its values: racism, white power, using human being as disposable tools for personal enrichment, and racism. (Anyone wanting to argue is welcome to read the Constitution of the Confederacy, which is nothing but the US Constitution with extra bits about slavery and river trade stuck in: it’s not subtle, and the character of the Confederacy is not up for debate.) Americans - or at least a worrying percentage of Americans - tend to link their national and tribal identities quite strongly: all you have to do is watch a Trump rally to work that out. To be an American is to be like me - thus, anyone unlike me is unAmerican. That is the sickness, the rot that is chewing up America from the inside. The right wing seized hold of the idea that the only Real Americans are those just like them, and other groups have started to adopt the same mindset out of self-defence, and these fractures are only going to deepen. Take that and add to it the way that political tribalism is fusing with regional identity and you begin to see the scope of the problem: you’re reaching the point where nobody from Region A can ever be thought of having any authority over Region B because Region A people are the Other. (Trump will probably be the last New Yorker City dweller to ever hold sway in the GOP: his successors will bind themselves to the base not merely through the tribal shibboleths of hating brown people and the poor who believe in improving their lot through anything other than force of will, but also through regional identity. No Californian Republican is likely to ever see front-billing again: you’ll prove your loyalty by only living in the ‘right’ places - solidly red, with no compromising purple of ideological weakness.)

So look at the Democratic party two, three elections from now: the party of everyone in the country who isn’t the GOP. How is that a functioning political group? What could it stand for that would effectively cover such a diverse collection of people? You cannot be the party of the centrists and the progressives and the leftists and the disaffected rightists and the communists and the socialists and the ethical capitalists and the neo-Marxists and the socially-liberal libertarians and the left-leaning rich and the remaining middle class and the working class and the vested corporate interests unwilling to directly support fascism and on and on and on. Democrats can run on the ‘Not Trump’ platform for the moment because the GOP will likely be the party of Trumpism from here on out. (The GOP had enough sense of self preservation to distance itself from Nixon back in the day, but ever since it refused to repudiate Reagan after Iran-Contra it’s shown that it is only ever going to double-down on its bets from here on out: it’ll be riding this train until the very bitter end.) But ‘not Trump’ is barely sufficient even now - because people want to know what the party is for, not just what it’s against. And it can’t be for everything but Trumpism - it’s too broad a field. So America is rapidly become ungovernable, because one party wants to serve a demographic facing extinction, and the other wants to be the Big Tent of literally everyone else no matter how different they may be. Which looks great on a poster about tolerance that you’d hang in a kindergarten class but is untenable when trying to unify 18-year old queer anarcho-syndicists of colour and 50-year old suburban capitalism-apologist whites: their goals are too divergent for harmony to make political sense. (And yes, ‘suburban’ is an antonym of ‘queer.’ Trust me on this.) They want fundamentally different things; just because they mutually do not also want a third thing does not mean they make stable, good, or even plausible allies. The Waffle Guardians and The Crepe Defenders can come together and agree that Pancakes are garbage but that is the end of their common cause, not the start of meaningful co-operation on a variety of issues mattering to both groups, because those don’t really exist. So America is becoming literally ungovernable because its institutions are incapable of operating outside of a narrow binary between two relatively close points. It was not designed, and cannot handle, the intense tribalism of the moment, nor the future that will contain a multitude of independently-minded political groups who are no longer willing to engage with big tent politics that ultimately never forward their own causes. We talk right now about a battle for the ‘soul’ of the Democratic party, but that’s bull. The fight is for who gets to keep the branding and the cachet of the name ‘Democratic Party’ - the next step is party secession, first when the centrists realize the progressives really do mean to literally destroy them and the status quo they hold dear, and then further fragmentation from there. I could go on and on down various laneways here about how increasing tribalism is straining the American system on a structural level. Take the Supreme Court, which only functions without a heavily politicized judiciary because otherwise democratic desires are stifled by entrenched judicial positions that judge issues only on their political merits. Or take how binary elected government in general only works with the understanding that every time power swaps between two groups the next group doesn’t instantly undo everything the last group did out of spite. (We’re seeing that in Ontario right now, actually, as a serious of ‘fortunate’ events brought into power a man so craven he makes Donald Trump seem downright generous in comparison. Our new premiere realized that if he just stops caring about re-election he can do whatever he wants to enrich his corporate buddies in the short-term, so he’s doing things that are enraging even his base, like removing anaesthetic coverage from colonoscopies. He, like Trump, is a ‘political outsider’ but unlike Trump his ego doesn’t need people telling him they love him - he’s perfectly happy being a vindictive thug, so even though he used populist anger to get into power he feels no reason to do anything for anyone who put him there. This is what happens when you elect a suburban drug dealer whose only goal is to revenge himself on an entire province for not taking his brother the crack-smoking mayor seriously. Ontario is so, so screwed.) Fundamentally, presidential republics are a disease. The American republican system has damaged every country its ever been exported to as its central structural weakness - an ability to be easily subsumed by autocrats - has been taken advantage of in basically every case, not to mention its tendency to fall into political deadlock. America’s own legal experts don’t recommend the country’s constitution to other - RBGs herself said that she would not use the US Constitution as a model to any country creating one today. The fractures that so ruined South America and the emerging African states that took the Us as their role model are finally happening in American itself. This feeling of paralyzation will only worsen in the years to come: it was practically baked-in to the political system from the start, the inevitable breaking point of planned obsolescence. America must either change - such as adopting a parliamentary model better-suited to handle the diverse social, ethnic, cultural, and regional demographics of such a large country, or taking an axe to existing institutional binaries and demolishing the two-party state - or die. I recognize the irony in saying that there is a binary choice about handling the inability to handle non-binaries, but there is a third option: sticking with the status quo. A status quo that is groaning under the strain of modern America, a status quo for which simple, minor modifications are unlikely to be enough to relieve the pressures the system is under. You could try that. You’ve been trying it for decades. How’s that choice working out? Two to three elections from now the idea that you can neatly divide political extremes into Liberal and Conservative, and that harmony can only be found in collaboration, will be so dead that not even the most committed advocate of the status quo will be able to ignore the smell - though he will, of course, say that the onus is on other people to come back from their ‘extremist’ positions, because it’s never centrism’s fault when people reject it as insufficient to the crises of the present. To the Americans who read this, you’re going to have to choose - and it really is a choice, surprising as that may seem. You can choose to let America end. To let it die. Countries die all the time. That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. Say you’re from a blue state: do you still want a future of sharing a country with a red state? America stays together because ‘more unites us than divides us’ - but is there a point where that truism can no longer be consider true? And at that point is there still value in remaining a union? Meaningful value, and not just a sense of duty or obligation to an ideal that doesn’t seem to have any real-world resonance? What is the point at which political compromise becomes something you can no longer stomach - when working together goes from making deals with the opposition to making deals with the devil? When do hyperbolic statements like the other side being 'the devil’ stop sounding like hyperbole? For all that I talked about the Founding Fathers and their immediate voting heirs being ‘the same’ one point on which they disagreed was slavery - but they found themselves able to compromise on the use of humans-as-property for labour. That I one of the founding pacts of America: some of us don’t like slavery, but we can live with it in the interest of unity. Could you, a time-traveler-turned-Founding-Father, make the same choice? On what are you willing to compromise to keep the union a union - what agreements could you make and still be able to meet your own gaze in a mirror? Keep in mind that choosing ‘change’ is no guarantee that the change will be successful, or that the post-America that emerges from that change will be any more a place you want to live in than if you had chosen to keep America alive. I merely want the full and total weight of those decisions to be clear. American compromised on slavery at the moment of its birth: it has lived with the consequences of that compromise ever since. America continues to exist because matters were compromised on - some benign, some heinous, all done in the interest of a greater good. Are you willing to make such compromises future - and are you willing to accept the consequences of what might happen if you are not? There is no ‘going back.’ The post-Trump America will not be a ‘return to normal.’ It can’t. Too many lines have been crossed for there to be a simple return to ‘normality’ when all this is done: that normal is dead. If you choose to try and reinstate it - if you choose neither change nor death but the old status quo - then the problems that birthed this current crisis will remain. Is that status quo strong enough to withstand a second round with such events? That’s something you’ll have to decided. Until then, American will remain ungovernable.

[campgroundspei]

New Glasgow Highlands, Campground # 24

We just completed our 24th Prince Edward Island Campground! We spent our weekend at New Glasgow Highlands in New Glasgow, PEI.

It was a long weekend and my husband had to work so I looked for a campground we haven't done yet that had Cabins and New Glasgow Highlands ended being perfect for this! They actually have a lot of Cabins there, a few of my friends joined in this trip and rented Cabins too!

We arrived around 3 in the afternoon and was very pleased to see how beautiful the campground was with lots of trees. I drove to my site was surprised by how big the cabin was, definitely more room then I thought there would be! (And not an earwig in site either). The Cabins were also treed in and very private!

The kids wanted to go to the pool! We spent the rest of our day there, right up till supper time.

This Campground had a rec room with a community fridge, stove, keurig, and microwave in it. We took advantage of this and made our supper in there. Then the children of course wanted to go back to the pool so they did so right up until campfire time.

Our wood didn't seem to want to want to light for our campfire though, it apparently rained while we were eating our supper. We did get it good enough for the kids to get some smores in before they went to bed though.

The next morning everyone slept in until 8:30-9 and we woke up to a hot day.

After a coffee and a quick breakfast we went for a walk around the campground and saw they had many cabins, nice treed in sites for both campers and tenters, a small park and lots of walking trails.

After the walk the children of course wanted the pool. We stayed in there until lunch time and then we got some visitors! We had some nice chats with our visitors and then headed back to the pool, where we spent the rest of the day!

Today was filled with so much love, laughter and friendship, it was really the perfect day.

After our supper we had another campfire and this time the wood went on fire! We had some laughs and chats around the fire until about midnight until we all headed off to bed.

The next morning we ate a quick breakfast, packed up and headed back home.

My 13 year old said his favorite part of this Campground was the rec hall and the pool.

My 6 year old said his favorite part was the pool.

And my favorite was the treed in private cabin sites and having all my friends together.

This is a great Campground if you like more quiet type campground. Definitely a campground to make you feel rejuvenated!

[samtheflamingomain]

savings gone~!

I was drinking too much, so I went to rehab. Then I was sober for almost 6 months. Drank on Xmas, getting trashed daily by NYE. Back to square one.

I know I can do it again. But I also know that I need the literal locking up that rehab does. If nothing else, it physically prevents you from having access to any drug.

But... that's why this has hurt so much. Why I never have a fun singing dancing drunk night anymore. Always cutting, crying, wishing I was dead drunk nights.

Because I miss being sober so fucking much. I miss not having to check my history to know what time I fell asleep and then discover I made a bunch of posts I don't remember. I miss not losing half my life to do fucking nothing. I miss not living and breathing for my next damn drink.

But it's not as simple as "you've done it before, do it again". I only managed to do it before because of rehab. I've tried doing it myself, and it just doesn't work. I need physical restraint from accessing alcohol and even that thought itself makes me hate myself.

I plan on killing myself after the June Ontario Provincial Election if NDP don't win. They're the only ones who might possibly maybe increase my disability from a disgusting, insulting $14000/yr to a non-poverty amount. But not holding my breath. The past few years has made me incredibly hopeless in humanity. The Conservatives, who have done nothing but piss people off with every goddamn step, are up. A lot. Too much.

I've looked into PEI. Theoretically - in our fucking Charter - you can freely relocate to any province or territory.

Oh, you're on disability? Weeellllll clearly what constitutes a disability in Ontario could be different in PEI. What the actual fuck? Yeah, uh fuck you? If you move, you forfeit access to disability. Because it's run by the province, not the fed. So if I uprooted to PEI I'd have to start from square one to get on their disability.

Pop quiz! Name a group of society who are very unlikely to have savings, mobility, and the social structure and support to relocate provinces and be without income for 6+ months? Pick any minority and you're not wrong, but fucking ESPECIALLY the disabled. I'm trapped here.

I'm not even kidding, quite literally EVERY person I know on ODSP is eagerly awaiting March 2023. Why? That's when Canada opens up assisted suicide to anyone with a diagnosed mental illness. Currently it's a complete ban. Got terminal cancer? But also depression? Fuck off. March 2023, I can just apply and be dead in a month. Fuckin goals.

And that's their goal. And I know it is. And I don't care. They got me. I do not want to live in poverty for even another fucking minute. It's a fucking miserable existence. I cannot recall the last time I was happy. Why do 60 more years of this misery? Oh I just remembered - it was when I was on CERB, making literally double my disability. Then in a month I took a LITERAL 50% PAY CUT. Overnight. I had savings for the first time in my life.

After paying rent today, I have $400 to my name. Down from almost 2k.

You cannot fucking tell me that the average Canadian out of work from covid is entitled by fucking definition to 2 grand a month and say at the same time that the disabled can get by on $1100. On what GODDAMN planet does being disabled cost LESS THAN NOT? And the fact that CERB happened almost instantly with zero bullshit to get it, when people can spend years and thousands in legal fees just to be FUCKING ALLOWED TO GET THEIR PATHETIC 14K/Y? I fucking hate society, I hate humanity, I'm ready to go. This shit ain't it, God. Try again.

In the time it took me to write this, Bezos made 12.8 million dollars. I've never hit the poverty line. Don't try and tell me I have no reason to end it.

Stay Greater.

[warm-starlight]

I just read a post you reblogged about living with their parents. I believe it's totally okay to live with your parents. Here in our country, we are very family-oriented. We live with our parents even we're already adults. We only leave when we get married and build our own home. Some children even take their parents or grandparents with them when they get married so that they can look after them and some even stay at their parents' house even when they're already married.

Yeah, it's a cultural thing i guess. I understand wanting to escape if you are living with a toxic family, but other than that living with one's parents is also more financially beneficial. I don't have to pey rent, i only help them pay the bills and buy food. The rest i can save up for whatever my goal is in the future.

[koganphrancis]

Last night’s Shameless was so bad, Cameron had to tweet this deleted shit to try to provide some context.

Here’s his caption: “Many notable scenes are cut each season, but I was really disappointed to see this beautiful bit of writing by Dominique Morriseau go. Hope we’ll get to see it in DVD extras.”

So once again I’ll deal with this stupid shit before I deal with the episode’s stupid shit.  I for one am grateful this bit didn’t make it into the show.  I’ll start with the obvious-it’s more dismissal/retconning of Mickey and not only what he did actually do for Ian, but also of what he meant TO Ian.  Fans over on Twitter are saying what Ian said was technically true-that Mickey didn’t tell him he was amazing or could be something.  To me that’s splitting hairs-if Ian was too dense to see that Mickey thought the world of Ian, that he thought Ian could do anything he wanted to, that’s on Ian.  Mickey, more importantly, never BLOCKED Ian from doing anything he wanted to do.  Ian had a better source of support than most people ever get, and the show keeps insisting that it didn’t happen.

The next thing that bugs the hell out of me in that speech is that IAN DIDN’T DO ANY OF THAT FOR MICKEY EITHER.  So, even if he one hundred percent believes what he’s saying, he’s also saying that he knows that was wrong, so where was he when Mickey needed someone telling him he didn’t need to be a thug/drug dealer/pimp?  

And beyond that-why didn’t Ian ever visit Mickey in prison then?  If he’s aware that having someone believe in you makes all the difference?  AND WHY ISN’T IAN THERE FOR YEVGENY?  So, sorry, Cam, this “beautiful bit of writing” sucked.  

I will say that cutting the scene made what happened between Ian and the girl and Ian and Terror completely pointless and meaningless, but, hey!  That’s Shameless for you!  

Now for the episode itself-read more if you dare...

It was so shitty I’m really not going to waste time on most of it.  A few bullet points:

Ian’s done mourning (at least this week he was.  Since every week everyone is acting completely different from the week before, maybe mourning for Monica will be a thing for him again?).

Ian still has his job despite running out before his shift last week.  I’m not surprised, but they don’t even address it?

Fiona says utilities are included in the rent she’s charging-um, really?  I don’t know anything about the housing situation in Chicago, but in Massachusetts utilities aren’t included because of the cost of heating in winter/cooling in summer-and even if Fiona doesn’t pay for whatever is heating those apartments, since electricity is included in the fixed rent wouldn’t people just buy a shit ton of plug-in heaters and let her carry the expense?  

The cock mug was back-but Debbie drank out of it, not Ian.

Ian took “a” med-guess they found he only needs one drug to keep all his symptoms in check?  

Lip dreamed about tits (sorry you had to direct that scene, Regina King-you deserve better), but not one of his dream girls looked anything like Snore, LOL.  Snore was only in the background at the diner for one scene-no lines.  She’s the new Liam.  I don’t get why they brought her back this season when they obviously cottoned onto the fact that she’s not that good an actress.  Lip winds up banging the kickass chick at  the bike shop, but they’ve telegraphed that she’s going to be a Sex Addicts Anonymous participant and Lip’s sponsor will probably wind up having to lecture him at some point.  Yawn.  Youens wasn’t mentioned at all in this episode-maybe they’re done with him too?  Lip bringing that one meeting to his house took care of that?

The stuff with Kev’s family was reminiscent of Frank’s time at the commune with the yurts and did anyone need more of that?  Also, I’m sorry if I was supposed to get indignant on Kev’s behalf that the Kentucky folk abandoned him to go into foster care-Kev has a son with Vee’s mother that he has nothing to do with either, so maybe put that rock away while you’re in that glass house?  

Frank being a turn on to any woman is something they’ve done to death and it’s more unrealistic each time.  

Fiona had some big cathartic thing happen from Sean popping up-not really though.  There was the typical trope of her spewing all her shit before Sean could say why he was there, so all she did was look like a jackass assuming he was back to win her fair hand all over again when he was actually there to make amends and tell her he’s married.  She said a bunch of stuff about never being able to trust him that Terror should’ve said in 7X12 in a final farewell to the series scene.  Fiona went on and on about how Sean ripped her world apart and he was the love of her life and all this shit that the show never showed.  It was such crap and do they really think we’re invested in any of it?  Had they shown her suffering/missing him after the wedding fell through, maybe, but they didn’t and it’s too late to convince us now.  (BTW Sean’s wife was young and pretty-of course she was.)  

The other Fiona thing for the week is that Nessa is her fucking toady at the apartment building-in constant touch with Fi and acting as her right hand when she’s not there...doesn’t she have a job as an accountant for an airline?  Isn’t that a pretty much 9-5 job?

Liam’s still in school, but Carl’s not in school?  What?  Also, Carl’s storyline is as boring as it is unbelievable and again I can’t believe that they expect us to be invested in it.  The veteran he’s going to help out-had no lines.  

Now the Ian stuff.  First off, anyone can just wander in the EMT bay where they keep the open, unlocked trucks.  The chick Ian helped in a previous episode turns up saying how he said if she needed help, she could go to him.  Then the cut scene should’ve happened, but all we got was Ian tucking her in on the couch and walking up the stairs, pausing to look back at her.  The scene was...weird.  The girl looks a bit like a poor man’s Peyton List-same moon face, just take Pey’s make up and hair extensions off and she could’ve played the role-and that just took me out of the story-we’re supposed to feel a bit anxious about Ian being involved with a teen here, so how ‘bout irl?  

Anyway, next time we see Ian, he’s waking up in his tiny bed with the girl laying there with him.  Damn Ian must be a sound sleeper if he didn’t notice someone crowding in there with him-remember, he’s only taking one med now, so I’m not buying that it knocks him out unless it was a Benadryl.  Ian’s only in boxers (so at least my prediction of never seeing him shirtless again didn’t come true-but who wants to see him topless with a teenage girl?), and he wakes the girl up and climbs over her and pulls some pants on.  She gets out of his bed in just her undies and a tight tank top and says it was creepy downstairs so she came up to sleep with him.  

So, in this week’s “there’s been no character development” highlight-here we have Ian acting as clueless as he was with Mandy in Season 1, when 15 year old Ian couldn’t find a way to let a girl know he’s gay/not interested in them/that it’s wrong for them to be all over him.  Let’s reset Ian to zero-forget all his life experience AND make him so dumb as a 22 year old that he doesn’t realize he needs to tell teen girls NOT to get into bed with him.  Nope, he just picks up her phone off his bed and puts his number in there so she can call him “the next time she needs a place to crash”.  

Lip sees the chick come out of Ian’s room-doesn’t even say anything about the age of consent or whatever.  

The girl must see herself out, because next we have Lip and Ian coming into the kitchen where Fiona has been sitting up all night smoking Lip’s pack of Camels.  Ian misses a perfect opportunity to tell Fi she’s lucky Sean’s married to someone else-he would’ve set a match to her life otherwise.  Ian’s wearing a tank top by now and he has a farmers tan and it made me sad.  

Next time we see Ian, Terror pops up in the truck bay at work.  He gives Ian shit about the teen girl, Ian says he was just trying to help, they try to argue but their lack of chemistry smothers that too.  Even though for once Ian sort of sticks up for himself and says, “Would you mind easing up a bit” (on the lecturing), it was just lame.  Terror says Ian can’t let kids from the shelter sleep with him, Ian says, “I’m gay,” (so, Terror didn’t know?) and that there was nothing sexual about it and he was just trying to help, but Terror says she’s an incest victim and these kids don’t know when something’s sexual or not (or something-I didn’t bother jotting it down).  For once Terror has a point, except he ruins it by making it all about HIM, as always.  He says it’s bullshit that Ian was trying to help (um, no it’s not?  He really was?) and that Ian’s trying to weasel his way back into Terror’s life, but then, instead of telling Ian that they’re never going to get back together, he just says, “do not use these kids to do it.”  UGH!  NOOOO!  That was as much as saying, “We’re going to get back together, but not for this reason.”  FUCK NO!!!!  DEVIL!!!!  Ian at least gives him a fuck you look to end the scene, but...

the next time we see Ian, he’s walking home in his bright red sneakers and Terror pulls up next to him in his shitty little Terror-mobile.  He gets out of the car and commends Ian for Teenie wanting to get into a junior firefighters’ program (which makes zero sense without Cam’s tweet).  Ian says something like did he do  something right or whatever, and asshole Terror says, “You’re not out of the doghouse-yet.”  NOOOOOO!  Not “yet”!  Fuck you, Terror, just walk away from this!  He’ll fuck you over and you know it!  You’re never going to keep him interested in you-no one knows why he’s ever been involved with you to begin with!!!!  Ian perks up like the kicked puppy he is with these assholes and says, “What can I do to make it right?”  Terror says he can help him find housing for the kids.  WHAT?  HOW?  Terror has contacts and ways of making that happen and he can’t do it-WTF is Ian supposed to do?  What a lame, obvious plot point to keep them “together”.  It’s such horseshit!!!  Anyway, Ian says, “OK, I can do that,” and fucking Terror says, “Thank you.”  I’m now predicting that Geneva the teen dies in the episode after next and Ian cries down at the docks and Terror follows him there to tell him it isn’t his fault, he tried, and then they’ll fuck and I’ll puke.  

The final scene is the family (and Nessa?) all gathered in the living room, and all it did was highlight what a pale shadow the show is of its former self.  They’ve lost whatever spark they used to have.  

A final thought: Terror’s eyebrows are really taking over his entire face.  In the scene in the EMT barn, they were all I could see.  They just sit there like big furry caterpillars and make his face even less expressive as an actor.  

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Enter the Dragana

I.

The title is a homage to the 1973 film Enter the Dragon starring Bruce Lee. I don’t know if what follows will have anything to do with the movie, but Enter the Dragana sounded cool.

Meeting roommates can be exciting, nerve-wracking, or a host of other adjectives that describe the tension between humans. My first encounter with Dragana was very brief. We hadn’t said much more than “hi” to one another before she left on vacation to Greece for a week. My little head thought she was an attractive woman, but all I knew for sure was that one of the four small rooms in the Crazy House now had a new tenant to help Raymond and Vesna pay for their son’s private school tuition and the washing machine none of the tenants could use. 

In the summer of 2008, I took a bus from Novi Sad to visit my sister-in-law, who was attending the Trieste Joyce School in Trieste, Italy. I’d paid Raymond’s mother a portion of my month’s rent before I left and promised to pay the rest upon my return to Novi Sad. She seemed cool with it. Raymond, however, was not. All hell broke loose when I returned from Italy. Raymond felt I was late on my rent. I don’t know if this meant he and Vesna couldn’t pay their son’s tuition on time, but I knew I had to change my living arrangements before somebody got hurt because there was no banister for the stairs that led up to our rooms, or someone found out that we four roommates were living in the Crazy House without any formal rental agreement. 

“You and I should get our own place,” Dragana told me one day. I’d heard from more that one novosađanin that people from Vrbas were crazy, but I wouldn’t know the full extent of Dragana’s pantyless, partying ways until I agreed to share an apartment with her to escape the Crazy House.

The apartment was modern for Novi Sad standards. It had a decent-size living room and kitchen, along with an upstairs you could get to using a staircase where each step as designed for alternating feet. The lone bathroom was at the top of stairs, to the left was a large bedroom and closet. 

Dragana was already in party mode the first night we spent together at our new place. Dragana had already taken the bedroom upstairs, so I laid claim to the pullout sofa bed in the living room. I soon noticed an odd reddish glow coming from the kitchen. I discovered that Dragana had used red nail polish to paint the kitchen light fixtures red. I worried that her artistic endeavor could be a fire hazard. All she cared about was whether or not the music was loud enough. I couldn’t fall asleep later that night because Dragana and her guy friends didn’t seem to be able to stop talking for more than ten seconds. As I lay on my back plotting my revenge on the sofa bed, one of them came downstairs. He must have detected that I was pissed off by the lateness of the hour and the unending noise. 

“I sorry brother,” was all he said. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t just stick brate on the end of a sentence and expect that we’d be instant homies,

Dragana had a seemingly endless stream of male friends. I think Bojan’s father owned a construction company, which would explain why Bojan would always leave some money for Dragana either before or after a night out. Srđa would pull up porn sites on Dragana’s laptop and die laughing as she’d squirm uncomfortably. Boško had beaten up his girlfriend and spent three years in prison for involuntary manslaughter after shooting the wrong guy while working as a nightclub bouncer. Dragana said he regretted not bringing me a gift. She never said what the gift could have been, but I didn’t think Boško was the type of guy I should accept gifts from. 

For all of Dragana’s male friends, the guys she loved were the soccer players. 

Mladen played soccer for one of Belgrade’s two major sports clubs, Partizan (Partisan). I don’t know how he met Dragana, but I do remember that damn ham sandwich. Once, as I was tossing and turning on the sofa bed trying to fall asleep at around 4 AM, the room flooded with light from the hallway, Dragana and (this time) Mladen were home. I decided sleeping was pointless and I’d just get out of bed. As happy drunk Mladen stumbled toward me with the sandwich, he yelled something at me I’ll never forget:

“NOOOO SLEEEEP MYYY FRIEEEEND!!!”

“Shit,” I thought. This is going to be a long night. I was hungry, so I accepted the sandwich without knowing where it had been. As I ate, Mladen and Dragana swayed and sauntered up the stairs as best they could. Soon after, I could hear music playing in the bedroom, but more prominent were the unmistakable sounds of human copulation. Wide awake, I lay flat on my back with my eyes open. I could only take it all in. I don’t remember how long their session lasted. The next thing do I remember is Mladen leaving our apartment at about 8 AM. I never saw him again. Dragana’s belief that she was special in his eyes was misguided after all. 

When she came downstairs later, I confronted her about the previous night’s soundtrack:

“I heard you and Mladen fucking last night. I don’t care if you do that, but if Mladen is going to be in town, could you let me know so I can crash somewhere else?”

“But… I had the music on!”

“I know… I heard that too.”

I slept upstairs after that. 

II.

At that time, there was what I considered a trashy British TV show running on Serbian TV called Footballers’ Wives; the day Dragana showed up at our door with a Maltese puppy, I thought we might get our own spinoff, Footballers’ Dogs. 

Leno the Maltese belonged to another soccer player, Diarra, from Senegal. I think he was under contract with Belgrade’s other major club, Crvena zvezda (Red Star) His relationship with Dragana wasn’t sexual that I know of, but somehow they made an arrangement for Dragana to look after Leno while Diarra was playing in Turkey. 

We were only supposed to have Leno for a week, but he stayed with us for nearly a month. Dragana would complain that she’d take him out for hours but he wouldn’t relieve himself. Once, as soon as they hit our apartment door, Leno ran expertly up the stairs (much more deftly than Dragana’s own thoroughly confused Shar-Pei) and shit in the corner of the shower cabin in the bathroom. I don’t know if the little guy was waiting for the privacy of being behind a curtain, but he looked up at me afterward with a sense of accomplishment, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I already knew Dragana could be gone for hours, days, and sometimes weeks at a time. As long as she paid her share of the rent, I didn’t mind. I thought sleeping upstairs would mean I’d see her even less. Sadly, any hopes I had that a change in sleeping arrangements would bring me a measure of peace were quickly dashed. 

Many people Dragana’s age were students at the University of Novi Sad. Dragana, on the other hand, had openly bragged to me not long after we moved into the apartment that although she was technically a student, her parents paid off her professors to give her credit for attending class. I never once saw her with a textbook of any kind. She thought of herself as a model and tried to get me to vote for her in the Ms. Serbia on Facebook contest in or around July 2008. She came in second place. Her performance must have been a boon to her confidence because her modeling aspirations led to two of the most bizarre incidents of our time together. 

On one occasion, she called me the night before she knew The Man in the Cowboy Hat and I would be passing by Štark Arena (formerly Belgrade Arena) to ask if I could bring her the hair extensions she sometimes wore. I don’t know if she had a photoshoot scheduled, or what. Picture me with an old-school Nokia in one hand rummaging through a woman’s closet with the other:

“Which one? Blonde or brunette?”

“The brown one!”

“Can’t I just bring whatever looks like hair and let you sort it out?”

Click.

Another time, she’d been to a club opening and hadn’t come home that night. The only phone in the apartment was downstairs. It rang five times, stopped for a few seconds, and then rang several times again. I ignored the ringing at first because I thought it was just Dragana’s grandma being persistent. But, by the time the pattern had repeated itself for what felt like twenty minutes, I was in panic mode. 

My brother was serving in the U.S. Army and had been deployed to Iraq. As the ringing kept on, I began thinking the only person who would call so many times was someone from the U.S. Embassy in Belgrade who’d somehow gotten my number and was calling to tell me my brother had been killed. 

When I finally answered the phone, I was boiling mad and sick to my stomach:

“Is Dragana there?”

 I’ve never been so angry at another human being. I yelled something like this at him in English:

Listen, you stupid motherfucker. Do you have any idea what it’s like to think your only brother is dead and you’re about to get the worst news of your life? If you EVER call here again, I will find you, and I will fucking kill you. Understand?

He was calling because Dragana was late for a photoshoot. 

After that, the phone didn’t ring for the rest of the day.

III.

The last incident I’ll never forget occurred when Dragana and a group of friends came to our apartment to remember a friend of theirs who’d been killed in an accident. Dragana was inconsolable that night and repeatedly mentioned taking drinks for her friend’s soul. I never got the person’s name, nor do I know exactly what happened to him or her. I was upset about all the noise she and her friends were making, but at the same time, I’ d never seen Dragana so emotional, so human. She never mentioned her friend or what happened that night around me again. I suppose some things shouldn’t have to be rehashed. 

Dragana was practically living in Belgrade by the time I moved out of the apartment. It was a miracle she paid her portion of the rent for as long as she did. My life was never quite the same after Dragana entered it, which is not a bad thing. I appreciate the experience. Wherever she is today, I hope she has consistently found whatever hair extensions she’s needed. She reminded me that no matter how different we think we are from another person, we all share in a common humanity, with a seemingly infinite capacity to frustrate and fascinate one another. 

Choose your roommates, partners, and puppies carefully.

[campgroundspei]

Campground #22

Ocean Acres Cottages and Campground in Murray Harbour

It may be winter on Prince Edward Island but we just stayed at our 22nd P.E.I Campground since starting our journey in 2016!

Since it is winter we glamped more the camped but it is pretty cool that this Campground is open all year round.

We just spent 2 nights in a cottage at Ocean Acres Cottages & Campground in Murray Harbour, PEI.

This adventure was a Christmas present for our kids grandparents that was actually suppose to happen in January but to do covid isolation we had to rebook it for March.

We arrived pretty late Friday night to our cabin and were greeted by the boys grandparents who had arrived way earlier then us!

The campground had a fire going that we were all welcome to attend in a big fire pit area. We didn't attend though because we were to busy catching up.

We woke up early for us the next morning and had our coffee and breakfast! It wasn't to cold out that morning considering it's winter so I even got to enjoy a bit of my coffee on the porch looking at a very pretty view of the water!

A short time after breakfast we headed outside for some exploring. The Campground is small but cute so it was a very short walk.

We saw the pool, which is outdoors, so obviously not open on our visit. They also had an outdoor skating rink which they have open in the winter. You can also book sleigh rides with them.

(Unfortunately our weather this weekend wasn't nice enough to enjoy this activities but it is pretty cool that they offer winter fun too!)

In summer you can also rent kayaks there!

My youngest wanted to play at the playground so we spent most of our morning there.

The children wanted some snacks so we went up to there restaurant The Deck and Cohen ordered some ice cream while Carter decided on some carrot cake. I got myself a delicious chocolate mudslide drink!

Then we headed back to our cabin for some movies and a nap!

(It was a very relaxing weekend)

For supper we decided to order from the restaurant and they delivered it right to the cabin. I got fries with the works and it was definitely one the best I've had.

We then spent our evening with a family fun filled evening of cards and the hoe down.

The next morning we slept in a little later so we had a quick bite to eat and then packed up for home time!

I loved how this Campground is open year round and has activities for winter as well as summer time!

My favorite part was the delicious food they cook and I will definitely eat at The Deck restaurant again! And of course the company we were with! Also, the staff were amazingly friendly and went the extra mile for you, my son forgot his phone and they delivered it right to my work the following Monday!

My 5 year old said his favorite part was the park!

My 13 year old said his favorite part was undecided and he would have to go pack in the summer to figure it out

And

My husband said his favorite part was spending the weekend with his awesome family.

I love that this Campground offers sleigh rides and has an ice rink in the winter and in summer has a pool and kayaks you can rent!

[abstractlesbian]

CAEL!!!! Thanks so much for tagging me I have All Nighter Energy I need to use on something

Name: Billie (chosen name) / Cat (shortening of birth name)

Nicknames: so many.....

- Ben (given to me by a high school buddy ❤)

- ‎Catherben

- ‎Catben

- ‎Bencat

- ‎4 / four / quatre

- ‎cathy

- ‎kate

- ‎meg (short for Megido fjfj)

- ‎bee

- ‎kitten (only Rachel can call me this)

Gender: lesbian

Star sign: cap sun aquarius moon cap rising

Height: 5'6

Sexuality: lesbian

Hogwarts house: I get a different one every time I take the quiz :/

Favourite animal: octopi / sheep / lizards / cats / owls

Average hours of sleep: uh 0-12

Dogs or cats: cats, but I love my pup

Blankets I sleep with: rn two comforters

Dream trip: .....I want to go back to pei and rent a cottage and just write Nd hang out with my gf and eat lobster rolls for a few weeks

Dream job: some kind of library work + running a LGBT book club for teens + being a writer/content creator

When I made this blog: 2015 I think but I've been on here since 2011

Followers: something like 1538, it goes up and down

Why i made my Tumblr: uh well back in the day i just wanted to read hetalia Vs homestuck fandom drama.... and this specific blog BC I used to remake every January during a Yearly Breakdown but I decided to stop remaking with this one BC I kept losing contact with cool ppl every time I remade

Reason for my URL: I've had anxiety since kindergarten and I saw a cool gif that said anxiety party in 2012 and I snatched this URL

I tag @tinymush @angelsinpain @genieinakettle @lalunalesbiana @bpd-celestia @i-am-a-feeling and anyone who wants to do this