#in which case we just fuck up my unemployment for that week instead

[altruistic-meme]

OUGH i once again wonder why i do this to myself. accepting shifts when i could just relax instead.

[mathsbian]

You know what I was thinking about last night?

In the US, we pay into various accounts that are set up by the government to help us out later if/when we need it. These include unemployment insurance (UI), social security retirement benefits, and social security disability benefits (SSDI). These accounts are directly connected to how long you have worked and the amount of money you were paid, and are only for you to access.

We also pay into programs that are for anyone who needs them, no work required to get assistance. These include social welfare programs like SNAP (food stamps) and TANF (cash assistance for families with children so they can buy clothes for their kids and stuff that isn’t covered by SNAP) and SSI, which is another kind of disability insurance but is specifically for poor disabled people who are possibly still working but can’t afford their cost-of-living expenses which are higher than the average person thanks to their disability.

If you want to get money from SNAP or TANF, you have to prove that you need it. The government will be checking if you have a job and how much you get paid, they’ll look at your bank accounts to see how much money you have on hand, you send them copies of bill statements to prove your expenses eat up most or all of your income. Since SSI is a similar program, I can understand why there’s hoops to jump through to get money from that program.

However, if you want money from your UI account or your social security retirement account, you pretty much just have to tell the government you’re in the group that account is for now. For UI, you have to show you’re still looking for new work (at least in my state) but it’s a very lax requirement compared to the requirements for SNAP/TANF. I’m not entirely sure how one goes about collecting their retirement benefits but I assume it involves a similar process of filing with the government that you’ve retired instead of being between jobs, and they’re only check that that admission from you is true.

SSDI, though? You pay into that account your entire career. But then if you suddenly need the money, you have to go through a ridiculously complicated and drawn out process to be approved. UI approval takes a week at most in my state. I assume retirement benefits get approved in under a year at the very most. But getting approved for SSDI when you don’t have one of the limited diagnoses that automatically qualify you (and not even just a diagnosis in the list, a diagnosis with the right stipulations such as mental health conditions having to be present for over two years without much documented improvement despite consistent treatment)? That can take up to TWO YEARS because they can just deny you over and over again and force you to appeal the decision as many as like 5 times, and each appeal has a 6 month waiting period. And on top of that, once you stop working, the account starts counting down to self-destruction. You only have so much time before you lose access to the money entirely. If I am not found disabled on this application (I’m halfway through all the possible appeals), I will not be able to get my SSDI money AT ALL.

It’s fucking bullshit. I paid into that account so I would have money set aside for if I became disabled. I don’t have to prove I need the unemployment money, which I’m no longer qualified to receive, they’ll basically give it to me no questions asked. But when I’m disabled and barely scraping by for years I keep getting told that “actually from our review of your case it seems like you totally can have a desk job, go fuck yourself” despite me constantly including the detail that I cannot sit upright at a desk for more than an hour without needing to lie down completely flat for two hours immediately after. It’s MY MONEY. They’re not saving it for someone else, they’re going to just eat it if I don’t get it, why can’t they just GIVE IT TO ME???

[shockingdread]

big reflection on our job and how much we've gained from it. which is to say we lost so much our health has been destroyed and we have no money to show for it

part of the reason this is being typed is because we havent smoked in a while but for real we have sacrificed everything for this job and gained nothing from it except guaranteeing our parent's roof over our head. except they still constantly threaten us and disrespect us. we're at this fork in the road where we have to decide if we're actually doing what we want with our life and if this job is helping us do that. what we want in life is to transition, a shitty car, an apartment with a friend or two, and a job in game development. we threw our transition into the trash to avoid getting hatecrimed by our coworkers, and health wise we're at our lowest. we're starving ourselves, we're not cleaning our room of food trash and we're getting repetitive infections from unwashed sheets and clothes. we have zero savings after eight months here making 19.50 because we're too paranoid to stay in a grocery store for more than ten minutes without supervision. our only irl friend moved so we cant ask her for help anymore, our family knows that we struggle with paranoid schizophrenia and they think it is funny and do not help. doordash and the local restaurants have scraped like 15k off of us since we got this job. we picked up smoking to try and reclaim some sort of control over our body, as a weird "fuck you" to our parents and anyone who tells us how to live our life, and its ended with us getting thru a pack every other day. thats like, 40 dollars a week of nj taxed marlboro menthols. we have so little energy at all times, even with our on/off schedule (two days on, two days off, three days on, two days off, two days on, three days off. repeat every two weeks) we cant do anything on our days off because our whole body aches. we cant think through the pain, so we cant even work on our game or do shit other than play tf2 and shoot shit on calls with friends. we're so miserable, we're filling the gaps with cigs and ice cream and excessive amounts of chinese takeout because we're a huge stress eater (but still losing a surprising amount of weight). now that my coworker tore the ligaments in her knee, she's got priority in orion instead of us. so every night has been in blow mold, where we spend so much more energy than we actually have. we're in debt to our own body, and the new girl is fucking everything up and blaming it on everyone around her, and the company's in a hiring freeze right now so if she leaves no one's taking her spot, and its still summer so just going to work burns and the car's AC is fucked so there's no relief from 12 hr nights in the steamy 80 degree factory. when we started working at our other factory job, we said to everyone, "this has to be temporary, i am not gonna last here, i am going to burn out and start making awful decisions and undo what good this is" and not only did that come to pass but it happened significantly sooner than i expected. this job has truly taken everything from us and left us in the negative and im starting to think keeping it thus far has just been like.. sunk cost fallacy. whatever the case is, it's time to start looking for something new asap. im probably putting my two weeks in soon. our sister is trying to help us get groceries now, we're trying to pick up the pieces this weekend. we'll feel it out but get excited for our unemployment

[softesthobi]

my boss just texted me that i’ll have a shorter shift today and he used the :( face and said he’s trying to avoid layoffs as long as he can

[walks-the-ages]

If anyone is able to help us pay bills for this month and beyond, I just got the text from work today that I got exposed to COVID-19 by a coworker on August 15th, 2021! (As of writing this post... That was the day before yesterday!!!)

And even though I'm fully vaccinated and have been wearing a mask even before people were taking it seriously, I started getting a sore throat today :/

I better fucking not have a breakthrough COVID case because stupid antimaskers and goddamn antivaccers surround me at work all fucking day.

Oh, and I'm STILL single handedly paying all the bills, because despite everyone having signs saying "we're hiring!" LITERALLY NO ONE IS ACTUALLY HIRING ANYONE and Rjalker hasn't been able to find a new job down here. She's been unemployed since October because of the pandemic and our fucked up genetics and Walmarts shit employee practices dislocating her legs and hip from bare concrete all day, and has unemployment benefits given her a single cent? Nope!

The only reason we have food on the table is because we were finally approved for foodstamps.

I had to spend $20 on a carpal tunnel brace only to realize I've probably got cubital tunnel issues in my elbow instead, I literally can't sleep without waking up every hour with my entire right arm burning and going numb and being unable to bend or straighten my fingers without pain. Apparently if it goes untreated it can cause permanent nerve damage in your hands 🙃

I only have 28 hours at work this week and JUST got it bumped up to 34 by aggressing to come in for some 9 hour shifts to help cover for someone being out... And then and only then got the text saying the person is out because they have COVID and worked on the 15th. Which. You know. Means I was fucking exposed to COVID at work and they didn't even mention it when they asked for extra coverage. I have to have an appointment at some point to check the possible nerve damage in my elbow(s), but at this point I will probably have to call out of work and get tested for fucking COVID Incase it's a breakthrough fucking case.

If anyone has anything to spare to help us pay bills because I'm probably going to be behind on rent this month, let alone utilities,

My c*ashapp is $WalksTheAges, any dollar amount you can afford, no matter how small, would be a lifesaver!

[jamesphillimoresumbrella]

Meanderings

Today I gave up.

Well, yesterday I did, if I am to be precise about it. Likely as not it was the weather and the platelet donation talking, but I have been feeling vague and helpless and not quite like a real person for a while now so that wasn’t all there was to it. 

I quite like my job now. Eight months in and I’m still filing that under cautiously optimistic, but it’s a lot better than where I came from and I was pleasantly surprised by the vision plan last week.

But that’s what I do for money. What I really want to do, what I know I want to do, what I have wanted to do ever since I was capable of thinking of things beyond artist and astronaut and female Captain Planet is write.

I like telling stories, or at least that’s the story I tell myself. I’d say I was Martin Crieff-ing my way through it, but at least he actually flew aeroplanes. I haven’t managed anything of my own in a long, long time.

Back in February, when everything hurt and 2020 was sharp and knife’s-edge brilliant despite the new year, when I had a long drive to work to think about things in, I decided that life was too damn short for me to not do the only thing that I’d ever wanted to do, and the only things stopping me were a global pandemic, having very little money, and a morbid fear of recommendation letters. And also not having a decent portfolio or anything to show that wasn’t ten thousand words of tentacle porn about other people’s characters.

I looked into creative writing programs. There’s one in Cardiff that I was particularly taken with.

And life happened, like it does. I changed jobs, because I couldn’t stay at Old Work, what with them fucking about with the DEA license and liability insurance and blaming me for it (I didn’t have the authority or know-how to take care of either thing) and them turning out not to have been registered with Unemployment on top of treating us like shite. (I regret giving them a two weeks’ notice. I did it because I have a stick up my butt about wanting to do the right thing, but they did not do the right thing by me so I don’t know why I bothered.) I dealt with what was in front of me every day without thinking too far ahead.

Sometime around September, though, I decided that I was going to give myself a task and a deadline. If I finished NaNoWriMo this year, I’d apply for writing programs. I’d be really serious about this writing thing instead of vaguely waffling at relatives who asked about my plans for the future. And if I didn’t make it, well, I’d shelve my aspirations and continue in the inoffensive, unremarkable rut that I’ve hitherto inhabited.

I’m frustrated that I haven’t lived yet. Which was a laughable thing for me to say in my early twenties, but is slightly terrifying to me now that I’m inching into my mid-thirties. I am scared that I’m never going to stop living my life for other people, that what I want for me will be put on the back burner for all eternity while I’m keeping other people happy.

(And I deeply resent that my mother in particular is relying on me for happiness. It’s a little easier, being an ocean away, but it remains that we got along best when I was firmly under her thumb and she will still not ever pass up any opportunity to say that I am hers, when will I visit, when will get her. I might be able to manage a bit better if she was consistent in what she wanted, but she’s also ricocheted between telling me not to get too much stuff, not to get too settled in case I have to leave, and asking when I can start petitioning her, she doesn’t have to live with me, she just wants to be close. Then when I start going on about the reality of the situation - honestly, she’s never come out of the There are no cats in America and the streets are paved with cheese mindset - about time and housing and income, she flips out. She’s asked me to outright lie to her when I told her I didn’t promise anything because I was the one who had to figure out a way to make it real, because she just wanted to hear I’d make it happen. I only recently realized that she could have visited me instead of coming up with a thousand and one reasons why she couldn’t - my favorite being not wanting to go through the visa application process because she had no one to go with her and hold her hand at the embassy - and I am quite bitter about that, especially when other relatives have been bouncing back and forth all this time. This should have been a separate post.)

I’ve grown to hate the questions “Where are you going?” and, if I manage to dodge that one, “Where have you been?” I’m frustrated that I’m feeling as trapped here as I ever was back home and it’s no one’s fault but mine that I’ve somehow ended up in the role of caregiver, however nominal. It’s alien to my temperament, and I try to do the right thing but I’d be an idiot not to know that my frustration shows. I can be deeply selfish, and I know it.

I’m also frustrated that adulthood has turned out to be a never-ending march of having to do the dishes, and trying to figure out what to feed people for dinner. 

I have not quite reached the point where all of this frustration drives me to do something deeply and destructively reckless, which is absolutely in keeping with my character, though I did download a dating app and decided I hated it within the first few exchanges. The man was perfectly polite and quite nice, actually, but talking to people with the intent of forming a romantic attachment is not for me, and I also recognize that trying to form a ~relationship~ in my current state of mind is not healthy for anyone.

But I was trying to talk about writing.

The point of going through all of that is I meant for October 31st to be a prep day for my Serious Writing, because of the deadline I set for myself, but all of my frustrations caught up with me instead and the day ended with me rewriting a few sentences of fan fiction and a grand total of nothing of the Original Thing.

And I just gave up, because what was the point of trying anyway? I clearly am not cut out for this, and, beyond not having written, I don’t know the first thing about getting read. I haven’t been able to focus on anything in ages, I've been finding it hard to finish books, which is terrifying. Also, I know of no one I could possibly ask to write me a recommendation letter to any academic program, so the pharmacy thing’s probably shafted too. And I had to figure out what to make for lunch tomorrow because otherwise my aunt might make herself instant noodles again despite the abundance of other cookable food.   

Then I grew despondent over having given up not two hours in to NaNoWriMo (because of course all this was happening in my head at 2:00AM, the perfect time for a breakdown and cooking monggo), because what kind of weak-willed milksop was I, to give up without even trying? Was not tomorrow (or later, when the sun is up) another day?

I’ve got no good ending for this. I wrote to figure my head out, because it was a better alternative to throwing things in the kitchen and weeping, and it’s helped me calm down a bit (and I did make some pork and veggies in between paragraphs, so meat’s back on the menu). I’ve somehow stayed up till 6:00AM, but that’s all right because I’ve got a late shift today, only I really was hoping to get some writing in before then.

[stonertransdad]

Life Update since I hadn't been on here in forever

The pandemic was/is wild! Lockdowns started literally around the time we were going to the fertility specialist to get her pregnant. I lost my job to COVID in March shortly before we did the procedure, but we decided there's never really a good time to have a kid. Why not during a global pandemic when one of us in unemployed? (BTW, I don't recommend having a kid during a pandemic. Not being able to go to all of the appointments and having to sit in the parking lot was brutal.)

Let's talk about May friends...it was rough. (TW for mention of suicide btw. I'll post a gif where it's safe to start again if you wanna skip over it.)

So May 1st is the anniversary of my father's suicide. It had been 4 years. I found his body and since he wasn't married, I had to handle his affairs and arrange his funeral. May 1st, 2020 my wife and I had a Zoom game night with our friends and I got drunk because everyone was drinking (except my wife because she was pregnant). After our game night at like 2am, I had a psychotic break. I threatened to kill myself numerous times. My wife tried to talk me down, but eventually called the cops to take me. I thank her for that because looking back, that was the moment I knew something needed to change. I was convinced the cops were gonna kill me because I'm a trans dude in rural West Texas. I legit took the phone out of my wife's hand, hung up on 911, and yeeted her phone across the backyard and tried to hop the fence. Eventually the cops came and talked me down. They took me to the hospital an hour away in handcuffs (for their protection I did nothing wrong). They took me to the religious hospital that I was born in. So when they looked up my info by my name and date of birth from my driver's license (I only changed my middle name) literally all my paperwork and my bracelet had my deadname and wrong gender despite all of my legal stuff saying male with my new middle name. I mentioned it to them and they didn't care. They misgendered me the entire time I was there. I had hit my head hella hard on the bath tub when my wife was trying to snap me out of it, did the hospital even check me for concussion? Nope. I had punched so many things and my hand and wrist were swollen and discolored. Did they check out my hand and wrist? Nope. I was there for over 10 hours before I was able to convince them I was okay and that it was just the alcohol. Did I mention during that 10 hours I was literally out in the hall on a gurney with no mask and this was when COVID was running rampant in Texas (the first time)? I heard people die that night. I had nothing to distract me because they took away all of my personal items and clothes. My wife picked me up and we went home and I have been sober ever since. It's not the first psychotic break I've had with alcohol in my system. Alcohol just doesn't agree with me, but I'm finding new things to replace it with.

TW has been lifted...it's safe now.

A couple of weeks after that I began teletherapy because I had been on the same mood stabilizer and anti-depressant for almost a decade. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that I felt like it hadn't been working for at least a year. This is a reminder to check in with your doctor if you feel like your meds aren't working. You may just need a different dose or a new med. There's no shame in that. I bounced around on various medications trying to find the right combo, some side effects scarier than others, but we got there. Before this, I had been diagnosed with ADHD, Major Depressive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My therapist threw out my Borderline diagnosis and said it was CPTSD instead, which made sense.

Fast forward to December because my wife was pregnant, I was unemployed still, and we did absolutely fuck-all because the global panini was still raging.

Our son was born on December 3, 2020. He weighed 5lbs 9oz and scared the ever loving shit out of us. He wasn't breathing when he was born so they called NICU in ASAP. I'm freaking out because I can hear and see what's going on while my wife was asking if he was okay as they put her guts back in place to sew her up. 5 or so minutes pass and a nurse asks if I want her to take some pictures. I'm like is he okay, he still hasn't cried. She's like "oh yeah, he's chillin." This goon was being held by a nurse and was just looking around not crying or anything. Chillest baby ever (he still is btw). I held him next to my wife's head until it was time to go back to the room. Little dude did have to spend 4 nights in the NICU because he couldn't keep his sugars or temperature regulated, but he was healthy otherwise. He's now 4 months old and is starting to sit up on his own a little bit and he's OBSESSED with standing. He's still a little guy, but very healthy and growing like a weed. He saves my life daily.

So after being unemployed for over 9 months, I started a new job working in a call center. I absolutely hate talking on the phone. It gives me anxiety and throws me into panic attacks, but I had been putting out hundreds of job applications since I lost my last job and this was the first offer I got. I wasn't really in a position to turn it down since my unemployment had ran out 2 months prior. It was 2 months of training, then we'd be on our own. I got thru the training and thought I could handle it...until they started putting us on live calls with someone helping us if we got stuck. My mental health hit the lowest point it had in a few years and my wife was terrified she was going to lose me. She convinced me to quit on February 28th (not because I didn't want to, but because I'm a stubborn ass who felt guilty). My meds got tweaked a little bit more dosage wise during this mess.

Starting about mid-February, I was experiencing severe shakiness, tremors, and spasms. I've always been a shaky person and never really thought too much about it, but at some points I could barely feed myself, or get a drink, or hold my son. On March 7th, I tried to make an appointment with my doctor about the weird symptoms I was experiencing, but she was out of town and her next opening wasn't until the 31st. My body said that won't work and my wife rushed me to the ER on the 9th...I had begun having seizures that day. I had no previous history of seizures. Got to the ER and had a seizure literally as I was walking thru the door, so they rushed me straight back. They took some blood and that was literally it. No MRI. No CT. They pumped me full of Ativan and said it was just a panic attack and to go home and chill.

Spoiler Alert: It wasn't just anxiety. I was having 20+ seizures a day. On the 10th, my wife rushed me to a different hospital...the good hospital over an hour away. First we had to drop off our gremlin with my mom to make things a little easier. Yet again, I had a seizure as I walked in the door and was taken back immediately. I don't really remember much because they kept pumping me full of Ativan and morphine because I had been in excruciating pain from the number of seizures I'd had. I do remember them doing a CT pretty quickly after I got there. Then they weren't happy with the results of the CT, so they took me to get an MRI, which showed possible signs of Multiple Sclerosis (but I didn't find that out until AFTER the notes showed up in my patient portal after being home a few days, so I raised hell...more on that later.) They did a 24 hour EEG on me and it showed nothing abnormal. Also, EEG glue is a bitch on your hair and scalp. After looking at everything and given my previous mental health history, they diagnosed me with Psychogenic Non-Epileptic Seizures, or PNES. It is a subset of Functional Neurologic Disorder, or FND. I couldn't walk well anymore and had to use a walker when I was discharged. I was in the hospital for 3 days.

When I had my follow-up appointment on the 23rd, I asked why the possibility of MS was never mentioned to me since it was very clearly in the notes. The doctor didn't have an explanation. He called in a referral to neurology so I could get a 2nd MRI to confirm MS and marked it as high priority. He also didn't take my pain seriously. My pain levels had been at a 5 or higher every single minute since they took me off of the morphine in the hospital. He told me to keep taking prescription strength doses of ibuprofen and Tylenol, which I had been. I let him know I had been and it didn't even take the edge off the pain. He ignored me. Leading up to this appointment, I had also added urinary incontinence to my growing list of symptoms and was forced to wear diapers so I didn't have to do laundry all the time. The doctor also took me off my ADHD meds because they were lowering my seizure threshold. He also took me off of my sleeping meds and nightmare meds for the same reason I'm assuming.

I kept my appointment on the 31st with my primary doctor because she's been my doctor for 5 years now and I knew she'd take my pain seriously. She did. She immediately wrote me prescriptions for a muscle relaxer and Tylenol 4. She also told me that my referral had been rejected by neuro. She said my case wasn't a good one for what she called a "wallet biopsy" and the doctors in neurology could be real assholes. She immediately sent the referral to other locations to get an approval. I am still waiting on that despite it being marked as high priority. She wrote me a prescription for a wheelchair because we both agreed my wheelchair was not enough for particular days.

Yesterday my wheelchair was finally ready for pickup, so my wife drove me to go get it. I'm still unable to drive due to my seizures and my tremors and twitches as it's predominantly in my legs and arms. I am an ambulatory wheelchair user now. Some days I can go short distances without my walker, some days I can't go without my walker, some days I can't even get out of bed, and some days I will be using my wheelchair. Don't judge a book by its cover, not all disabilities are visible. I have managed to keep my daily seizure count down in single digits and have even had a few seizure free days. They are still incredibly taxing on my body. I feel like I can't ever replenish my spoons fast enough to keep up with anything in my life.

So all in all, life has been chaotic. We are moving from Texas to New Mexico in the next few weeks, which should be interesting considering I can't overdo it without throwing myself into seizures. We will be closer to my mother-in-law so she can help us with our son and I can start resting a bit more on the more difficult days. Being a stay-at-home dad with an invisible illness has been one of the most challenging things I've done in my life, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Sorry this is so long. I just wanted to update my followers since it's been over a year since I posted before a few days ago.

[plasticnightmaredoll]

Well, it’s 2021, and my birthday week, so life has to just put more stress on me by having my back suddenly start hurting. Like, seriously, what the actual FUCK? I am going to be 34 years old this week, NOT 64 YEARS OLD. I am in good shape physically. I mean, I exercise regularly and eat decently enough. Mentally, I’m a mess but physically, this shit shouldn’t happen to me.

But I’m not even mad (anymore). This is just 2020 part 2, and the good times keep on avoiding everyone.

In order to cope with this newest drama, I decided to write a short self-insert involving Arkham Knight Riddler. It’s mostly me being a stubborn, bratty bitch and him being a bratty, stubborn bitch.

As it SHOULD be.

But there’s some fluff in it, too.

And maybe a hint at some suggestiveness if you squint.

“It’s not, like, I’m dying or anything,” I said, almost attempting to sit up but then I remembered the soreness in my back. “I just...need a little time to recover.”

“And tell me again how continuing your exercise routine and going back to work will help?” Edward demanded, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at me.

“I just need to improvise, ok?” I explained slowly, deliberately, my voice starting to reveal the agitation that was boiling up inside me. “I just need to avoid doing certain movements and avoid lifting anything too heavy. Make sense?”

“Excuse my bluntness but, have you suddenly become stupid?!”

“What? No!”

“Gee, you could have fooled me. Tell me, where is the logic in putting yourself through unnecessary physical stress when you already have back pain?”

“Because this exercise routine is important to me, ok?!” I hissed, and my tone managed to startle Edward a bit, so I brought my mood back down to earth as best as I could. “I’ve been doing it for 6 years now, and it makes me feel good about myself because it helps me look good. It’s also one of the few things in my shitty life I have control over. It’s something to look forward to, something that’s kind of a reward, a way to unwind. If I lose it then…” I shrugged. “What do I have? Gaming?”

“Your obsession with your physical appearance is causing you to make the most ridiculous decisions.”

“It’s not a vanity thing! It’s not something I expect you to understand because you’re a guy, and guys don’t often face the same objectification as women --”

“So, that’s what this is? You’re trying to cater to society’s pointless opinions on physical beauty?”

“No! I mean...yes, but it’s also helping me. I don’t want to sit around all the time and do nothing. I want to do something, and I want to look and feel good while doing it.”

“And about this job of yours...it’s beneath you! I told you this before. You are paid piddlies while doing monotonous work for 10 hours a day -- oh, excuse me, a night -- and you are surrounded by people who probably all share one brain cell! You don’t deserve to be trapped in such a suffocating environment.”

“I won’t argue with you on any of that.”

“Because you agree.”

“Yes, but what am I supposed to do? Quit?”

“Yes!”

“Ok, then what am I supposed to do about money? Getting unemployment takes a century, and it’s not even going to be as much as the ‘piddlies’ I’m making now -- which is barely enough to get by as it is.”

“I can help you,” Edward said, kneeling down beside the couch where I lay. “Whatever you need I can provide. I have money now -- lots of it! More than I need.”

“I don’t need a Sugar Daddy,” I said as I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself but the stinging pain I felt as my ribs expanded with my lungs put an abrupt halt to that effort.

“It’s not that kind of arrangement I’m offering,” Edward said, sounding a little calmer now. 

“I know, I know but...I don’t want help.”

“But you need it.”

“Maybe but I don’t want it.”

I started to sit up but the sharp pain in my back stopped me, and I let out a strained breath as I continued to try and force myself up.

“No, wait,” Edward said, pressing me back down by my shoulders. “What are you doing?”

I could tell he was worried by the somewhat fearful look in his eyes, and while I appreciated his concern, I wasn’t in need of being babied.

“I’m thirsty,” I said with a huff, frustrated with the entire situation. “I want something to drink. Now, if you’ll excuse me --”

“No!” Edward said sternly, holding me down. “Stay. I’ll get what you want.”

“Water with ice, please,” I said, too tired to argue anymore.

I laid there on my couch, feeling sorry for myself but also determined to NOT feel sorry for myself. Yes, I was a weakling when it came to pain, I bitched all the time, I could be quite lazy, and I could also be very snotty. I couldn’t just lay down and give up, though, and I didn’t want charity. In fact, I didn’t want to rely on anyone for help. I already bothered my parents enough -- even if they said they didn’t mind helping me whenever I needed it -- and I didn’t need to rope in someone else. 

My life was shit and that was my problem to sort out.

When Edward returned, he set the water on a coaster on the table next to the couch before kneeling down on the floor.

“Just think about my offer, ok?” he said, and I could tell he wanted to be more aggressive about it because of the tension in his voice and shoulders but he managed to keep his feelings under control for the time being. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me. At all.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Thanks, though.”

“Well, you...were there for me when I lost everything and…” he started blushing, clearing his throat quickly before continuing. “I want to return the favor.”

“For now, maybe you could just...rub my back?”

“Huh?”

“My back...I want to try and crack it, or just massage the muscles but I can’t reach.”

“Oh! Ok, yes, yes, I can do that.”

Edward helped me turn over, and I didn’t push him away. I was, as I already mentioned, too tired to argue, so I just let him assist me. I instructed him where to put his hands, how much pressure to apply, and I hugged the couch cushion tightly as I experienced some discomfort. I did hear -- and feel -- a few cracks, though, and they honestly felt … kind of good.

“Oh!” I said, lifting my head up a bit.

“Was that too much?” Edward asked, removing his hands.

“No, no, not at all. That...that felt kind of good, actually.”

“I’ll keep going then. Tell me if you feel any pain, though.”

I nodded and rested my chin on the pillow in my arms, wincing a little here and there but overall, his hands were helping more than hurting me. In fact, it must have been very relaxing because I woke up later in my bed, covered up and even cuddling my plush rabbit (that thing was as old as me, and luckily, Edward didn’t pass judgment about it). Looking around, I wondered if he had already left, seeing it was getting to be late in the evening, and my heart sank a bit. But he had a right to leave. He had his own life after all, and I didn’t need to be babied, remember?

Carefully, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up, my back aching but I just pushed through it. When I was finally sitting on the edge of the bed, I took a few breaths to steady myself as I prepared to stand. That was when the door to my room opened just a bit.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Edward said, stepping into my room. “Are you ok? Do you need help?”

“I just need to pee,” I said, waving my hand. “I can do that by myself.”

“All right...do you think you might want something to eat?”

“Uh...yeah, maybe. Not sure what, though.”

I stood up and rubbed at my back, grimacing at the soreness. Edward was at my side before I could say anything and I gently pushed him aside.

“I got it, I got it,” I said, laughing softly. “I’m not an old lady.”

As I made my way to the bathroom, a thought came to me, a thought that got my heart racing and my face turning red. But I was compelled to ask Edward something, and...he was right there…

“Eddie?” I said, meekly.

“Yes?” he responded from the doorway.

“Could you, um...stay tonight? I-In case I need something.”

“Oh, um…”

“I mean, you don’t have to. I’m not, like, trying to --”

“I’ll stay.”

I felt so much relief upon hearing that I almost cried.

“I could stay...for a few days if you’d like?”

“I couldn’t ask for that much.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“I’d appreciate it, honestly.”

“Then it’s settled then,” Edward said with a pleased hum. “I will just go grab a few things of mine. Do you think you’ll be ok on your own for a bit?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be ok. Thanks…”

“In the meantime then, take care...my...Darling Devinette.”

Edward was gone before I turned to look back at him, surprised by the nickname. It wasn’t like he hadn’t used nicknames with me before but this time he sounded...different. Like...he was being...affectionate instead of just teasing? Or maybe I was just reading too much into it? 

As I waited for Edward to return, though, I couldn’t help but push my pain aside and wonder if he’d call me that nickname in an endearing tone again while staying with me? I also hoped he wouldn’t mind rubbing my back again because, yes, it did help with the stiffness but it also...felt good for reasons I wasn’t going to admit out loud.

I shook my head as I heard Edward enter my apartment again, feeling like I was just being silly. He was a friend, we were friends, friends helped each other, friends had nicknames for each other, and back rubs weren’t always sensual. I was experiencing some back pain after all. So, no reason to get excited….

Right?

-----

And that’s it...for now.

Will there be a part 2? Maybe.

Will it get smutty? Possibly.

Is this self-indulgent? Definitely.

Is Arkham Knight Edward in character? God, I really hope so.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: Am I Understood?

As always here is a link to my Masterlist with all my works. I just started a new Solo Triplets fic! 

Slight TW/CW: lots of swearing, some implied consent at the end. Violent overtones throughout. 

You haven't slept this soundly in a long time, usually you have to take some sleeping pills before lulling off to sleep but not tonight. Sunlight filtered in through your bedroom windows and you blinked your eyes open to rid the call back to your pillow. Behind you, there was a deep growling noise, followed by a hot breath on the back of your neck. Ren must’ve been sleeping with his mouth shut, you mused, wiggling your arm out you reached out for the clock on your bedside table. 

9 AM it read. 

“Mother fucker,” you yelled and threw Ren off with all your might. Successfully elbowing him in the face while untangling your limbs. 

“Jesus,” Ren cried out and applied pressure to his nose, “Why’d you fucking do that?” 

“We slept in,” you called from the closet. 

Ren whined in response, you heard the mattress creak while he threw his legs over the side followed by footsteps into the bathroom. He appeared while you were buttoning up a maroon blouse, keeping one hand on his nose. He stared at you with wide blinking eyes that were still fighting sleep. 

“Come on, we’re an hour late-” 

“What are you talking about (Y/N),” he grumbled before turning to his sink and inspecting his bruised skin. 

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning, we’re both late for work,” you pushed by him so you could reach for your toothbrush. Trying to get ready as fast as possible, throwing your hair up in an updo and smudging on your lipstick. Ren just glared at you while wiggling his nose, probably trying to get blood flow back after the hit he took. Hip bumping him to the side so you could spit out your toothpaste, he finally moved and went to the closet. Re-emerging seconds later with black slacks, buttoning up a dress shirt that was the same maroon as yours. 

“Oh you wanna be matching today?” you giggled while hopping out of the bathroom, searching for your phone. 

“Would it be wrong if I did?” he yelled back from the sink. 

Snorting back in response you made it down the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, pretty risky to do in heels, and finally making it to the kitchen. 

The Keurig was heating up with your coffee when Ren made it downstairs. Fixing the sleeves of his blazer jacket, seeming to look for his shoes he threw off yesterday night. You took a moment to appreciate the scene in front of you, silent domestic bliss between the two of you. This is how it would be if you and Ren were a… you shook your head at the thought. He was still very married, you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to the closeness. Clearing your throat you reached for a mug, “I forgot to tell you I’ve been working on the case file you gave me last week, found something interesting but we can talk about it when I get to the office.” 

“When you get to the office,” he mumbled while grabbing some cereal from your pantry, “Aren’t you riding with me?” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because you work for me,” a spoonful of cereal, “you sleep with me,” another chew, “you fuck me, you’re mine Angel I don’t know why you keep forgetting.” He ended with slurping milk from the bowl before standing up and placing it in the sink. “Let’s go.” 

He walked past you, grabbing his coat along with your purse which had your car keys inside them. Stopping at the front doorway he yelled for you, “Are you going to make me wait or should I have Ushar drag you to the car?” 

----- 

The drive to work was short and silent, except for the radio which was playing on some random talk radio bullshit. The man was droning on and on about stock prices and the unemployment rates, you felt yourself falling asleep because of how bored you were. Even the guy talking sounded like he was one sentence away from falling into a coma. 

You groaned, “Can we listen to some music, please?” 

“Hmm,” Ren smirked at you. You reached for the buttons to change it yourself but he was quicker than you, smacking your hand away. “Now now Angel, it’s my car. We are to listen to what I want.” 

“Oh my god…” you whined, trying to get him to release your hand from his death grip. 

“Someone’s being a brat today,” he slammed on his brakes, almost mowing over a pedestrian he was clearly not watching for. You would’ve slammed into the dashboard if it hadn't been for your seatbelt and Rens giant arm that was now outstretched in front of you. 

You pushed his arm away while he sped off again, “Maybe I wouldn’t be a brat if you didn’t try to kill me with your reckless driving.” 

“Hmm.” 

He slammed again, this time he didn’t shoot out his arm to protect you, leaving your head to whip forward and smack the dashboard. “Oh come on!” you cried, applying pressure to your forehead. You were so sure he had split it open, you fumbled with the mirror above you, examining the bump that was now forming. Luckily there was no open wound but it still didn’t make up for the fact that you had a screaming headache. “You fucking did that on purpose,” you smacked him in the chest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked again, “I would never do anything to hurt you, my dear.”

“Just shut up,” you snapped, “And can we change the radio station this guy's voice is giving me a bigger headache.” 

“As you wish.” He reached forward and pressed another preset, making sure to give you a glare as he sat back. 

“Thank you,” you huffed, closing your eyes and waiting for the music to start playing, or at least another boring old man to start talking. 

Slowly the music started, you furrowed your eyebrows trying to concentrate on it instead of the pounding in your ears. As it was getting louder you could pick out some noises, a saxophone, for one thing, was present. Followed by some other deep instruments, you blinked a couple of times trying to understand what was going on. 

“Ah, I love this song,” Ren said before turning the volume up another few notches. 

“What the fuck is this-” 

“You don’t like jazz, Angel?” he smiled at you, it wasn’t a warm smile. More like a taunt for you to complain again, setting a trap for you to fall into. He waited, staring at you while you slowly began rubbing your temples, the music was far worse than the NPR radio, each sound was so disorganized and trying to desperately outdo the other instrument he might as well have slammed you in the dashboard again. 

Fuck this was going to be a long day. 

-----

“We have a meeting today with a client,” Ren said as he seated himself behind his desk, “It’ll be at the prison, however, so maybe sure you stay by me.” 

“Sounds good boss.” 

You were rifling through your bags trying to find the case file on the client, Armitage Hux was the name, you had read somewhere that he was a known criminal with a record to show for it. Thrown in and out of jails so many times he probably had his own personalized cell. Most of his charges were small: theft, forgery, robbery, lots of organized crime work. Nothing you weren’t used to seeing, but this time he was charged with something much worse. 

During your research you noticed that Hux was always found ‘innocent’ of these crimes, usually, the bail was paid off quickly and whoever was representing him had him out of court within a few hours. It was strange for this type of crime, what was also strange was the lack of information on those cases. It was almost like someone was erasing any information about his past the moment he was set free. 

Ren cleared his throat, “I must go see Palpatine before we set off.” 

“Oh, okay, let me grab my things and we can go,” you started repacking your bag. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he stated, getting up from his chair and walking towards you, “It’s a private matter. Meet me down at the car in 15 minutes Angel.” And with that he kissed you on the forehead and walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Whatever weirdo,” you muttered, this would be the first meeting you weren’t brought in with him. He usually had you take notes or something while he spoke with colleagues. But he seemed to be on edge when he rushed out. You shrugged and got up, now would be a good time to look around his office. Since you started working here you hadn’t gotten much downtime between reading, writing, and fucking.  

Walking around his desk you scanned the stacks of papers. Lots were in order, alphabetical, and by date. He seemed to run a tight ship with his workload. Along with stacks of papers, there were two frames on the left side of his desk, behind his desktop. You grabbed them to get a closer look. 

One was an old black and white photo, containing a young man who was very tall and skinny, flanked on both sides with an older man and woman. It looked like it was the young man’s graduation picture, he had tassels and stoles around his neck, achievements of hard academic work, the woman was beaming next to him, holding a bouquet of some sort. The older man was handsome, a little rougher than the woman, but he had the same smirk on his face that you’ve seen Ren have. 

“Must be his parents…” you whispered, setting the picture back down. You had never heard about his family, but it wasn’t like the two of you had ever spoken about personal things. 

The second picture was in color. It showed the same man, slightly longer black hair and less of a smile, standing outside the First Order office building. He was shaking hands with a man you didn’t recognize, he certainly wasn’t the man from the first photograph. No, this man was very different, his face although smiling had no happiness. Rigid and stiff even as the photo was being taken,  and behind him was Palpatine. 

Humming, you set the picture back down and glanced around the room some more. To the left of the desk were bookshelves. Filled with texts about the ever-changing laws throughout the nation, and even some about national security. Most of them were covered with dust, but you noticed a very boring pattern of non-fiction work throughout. It figures, you thought, Ren probably reads these for fun when he’s not out dictating my life. 

Looking down at your watch you saw you had about five minutes left before having to hoof it downstairs so you took that time to scan the walls for any other information. Your eyes settled on two diplomas framed by a very large fake plant. 

University of Oxford 

Faculty of Law 

Kylo Ren 

“Of course he went to Oxford… pretentious ass,” you looked down to the second one. 

Harvard University 

J.D. Law School 

Ben Solo 

You stared at it for a few seconds. Rereading it over and over, looking back and forth between the two papers. Ben Solo? Who the fuck was that? Did they print his name wrong? There’s no way, it’s a Harvard degree. Also if they had he would’ve definitely raised hell over it. Maybe it was just a leftover decoration from a previous lawyer… the frame was a little dustier than the top one. Seemed like maybe that could be it- 

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Shaking your head you fished it out and answered, “Hello this is (Y/N)-” 

“Where the fuck are you? I told you to meet me in the car in 15 minutes?” 

Ren. Of course, it was, “Sorry I was uh… going to the bathroom. Coming down now.” 

He hung up after that, clearly, he was in a bad mood. Maybe something in his meeting didn’t go well. Maybe Rey’s dad confronted him about the two of you… not like there was any way for him to know about it. Unless there were cameras in the office that the two of you didn’t know about. 

You shook that thought out of your mind and stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. Ren was parked directly in front waiting for you. You swung the door open and climbed in while he slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out onto the road. 

“When I tell you to be somewhere I expect you to listen to me,” Ren spat at you. Not taking the time to look at you while he weaved through traffic. 

“Sorry, I just lost track of time, don’t know what the big deal is,” you huffed. 

Ren snorted, “The big deal is you have to listen to me. You’re mine. I expected that lesson I taught you yesterday to stick inside your head for longer than 24 hours.” 

“Oh, you mean when you almost drown me?” 

“Precisely Angel,” He purred at you, placing a hand on your knee, “You belong to me. I control where you go,” a squeeze, “What you do,” his hand slid upwards and squeezed again, “Even when you breathe.” gripping the inside of your thigh, digging his nails into you, “Am I understood?” 

You swallowed, “Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Excellent, now we are meeting with a client. I expect you to stay quiet throughout and take notes diligently. We’ve worked with him before so it should be brief.” 

“We have?” you questioned, “Nothing in my research showed that he’s worked with the First Order before…” 

“Whatever the case, you will not speak while we meet with him. You are not there to counsel him, only to take notes about the conversation I have with him or any mannerisms he portrays during.” Ren looked over at you, he clearly needed you to listen to him. His usual auburn eyes were dark and cold, commanding you to stay in your place. You nodded and Ren patted your leg and the two of you drove in silence the rest of the way. 

—— 

You and Ren had walked in after parking. Every officer and guard seemed to know Ren personally, never checking his ID or anything, just waving him through. You were awestruck, the facility you were at was no laughing matter. It was a maximum security prison. Only for the worst of the worst criminals, crime bosses, murderers, rapists, serial killers, you name it and they were there. You scooted a little closer to Ren, hopefully to shield yourself from the fear rippling through you. 

“Scared Angel?” he chuckled, looking over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to fear. No one will touch you while I’m here.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked out. 

The guards led the two of you down a series of hallways before opening a steel door. Behind was a man, chained to a desk in the middle of the room. He was pale, not a shiner pale like Ren but more sickly. He had bright red hair atop his head, that was at one point styled but it seemed like he had been through the ringer. He had cold eyes, staring directly at you, not once looking at Ren. “Glad to see you’re finally here,” he spoke from behind a cigarette. 

“Apologies about our tardiness,” Ren spat, “Some pieces haven’t found their place yet.” 

He moved in front of the ginger, pulling out a chair and ushering you to sit before he did. “Thank you,” you whispered, trying to keep the gingers eye contact away from yours. 

“Whose this little fox you’ve brought Ren,” he cooed at you, leaning forward on the table, “She’s different than the last one.” 

“That’s enough Hux,” he spat, “Let’s get down to business.” 

You reached into your bag and handed Ren the case file. Grabbing out your pad and pen, you were ready for their conversation. 

“What’s your name little pet?” Hux blew smoke towards you. 

You coughed and shot a look at Ren, he was staring at Hux. His jaw clenched tight, his hands threatening to rip the file in half. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, “ Or are you not allowed to speak?” 

“Hux,” Ren boomed. 

“(Y/N). It’s (Y/N),” you spit out, staring down at your pad and pen. 

“(Y/N)... what a lovely name,” Hux cooed. The way he said your name felt like a threat. You knew immediately that you weren’t supposed to do that, Ren had told you not to speak. 

“If you’re not going to talk about your charges then my assistant and I will be leaving.” 

“Assistant, is that what you’re calling it now?” Hux laughed, taking another drag off the cigarette. “That’s a fancy way to say whore.” 

Ren lunges at Hux, knocking you to the floor in the process. Pinning him to the wall and repeatedly slamming him by his shoulders. You sat there with wide eyes, usually guards would burst in at the sign of commotion but the room was quiet. The only sounds were Hux and Ren's heavy breathing, both daring the other to make a move. 

“Kylo… we should go,” you squeaked out again. 

“Kyloooo you’re scaring your whore,” Hux smiled at him. Ren growled and shoved him one last time before turning to you. 

“Get up.” he barked. 

You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the papers that were thrown around. Ren's hand found purchase in your hair, gripping on and ushering you out of the room. 

Behind you Hux yelled, “I’m sure Snoke will be happy to hear about this!” and the door slammed shut. 

—— 

Ren said nothing. 

Not even when he shoved you into the car, buckled you into the seat and sped off. He was obviously not heading back to the office. His grip on the wheel was so tight it looked like he was going to snap it. 

“Where are we-“ 

“I told you not to speak.” 

“I’m sorry I just-“ 

He pulled in front of a hotel, “No I don’t think you understand Angel. I told you not to speak, and you disobeyed me.” 

The valet knocked on his window, tearing Rens stare from you. He stepped out and handed the keys to the young man. Rounding the car he ripped open your door and pulled you out by your wrist. 

You didn’t struggle, you were so confused as to where you were going. Why did he bring you to a hotel? Was he going to forgive you for earlier? What had Hux meant about you being a whore? 

Once inside the elevator, he let go of you and sighed. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he cracked his neck left and right. “I think it’s time you understood who you belong to.” 

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern, “What do you mean?” 

“What I mean is,” the doors opened and he walked out, “You’ll either listen to me tonight, or you’ll be severely hurt.” 

You gulped, was he going to beat you? Was this it? You had always felt safe with him but something about the meeting earlier had left him… unhinged. He opened the door and shoved you in. 

The suite was huge, full kitchen and living room. Large king bed, and a huge bathroom. 

“Strip for me.” 

“What?” 

“Strip for me or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened. 

Swallowing again you slowly took off your clothes, all the way down to your heels. Attempting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. He walked over to you and held your face. “Do you trust me Angel?” he whispered. 

“Yes.” 

He gave you a soft kiss, delicately tracing your lips with his own. “Sit down on the couch.” 

You followed his instructions, eager to see where this was going. Ren disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging with items in his hands. “Now, I’m going to put these on you, and you’re not going to struggle, do you understand?” You nodded. “If you struggle this is going to hurt you more, tell me you understand.” 

“Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Good,” he cooed. He pushed you back against the sofa, and tied a blindfold over your eyes. You giggled, excited about where this was headed. 

Suddenly Ren was behind the sofa, grabbing your left wrist and attaching something around it. He repeated it with the other one. “Try to move Angel.” 

You tried to pull your arms back over the couch, but found that they were chained to something. “What’s going on Ren-“ 

He then attached chains to both your ankles. Leaving you spread eagle across the couch. Unable to move, unable to see his intentions. A knock at the door, Ren sighed, “Their here early.” 

“Who's here? What’s going on?” 

“One more thing before I forget,” he hummed. He pinched your jaw, forcing it open and shoved a gag in your mouth. Strapping it around your skull. You trashed and cried out, but they came out as moans because you were unable to speak. 

“It’ll all be over soon.” Ren whispered and then opened the door. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @morby​ @onlykyloscenes​ @direnightshade​ @clumsycopy​ @candycanes19​ @kirah36​ @desiraypark​ @princss-bucky​ 

[popculturebuffet]

Blacksad: Arctic Nation Review: Digging Two Graves

Welcome you beautiful technicolor rainbow. And today I continue my black History Month coverage, this time with one that was suggested by Kev, my patreon on patreon and the blog’s biggest supporter, who sent me a bunch of things I could review for Black History month and, loving this comic and feeling given the events of last year with George Floyd that have had rightful shockwaves ever since, it was perfect.  

For those needing a refresher Blacksad is a spanish produced french released comic series about John Blacksad, a grim private detective in a 1950′s set world full of anthromphized animals. It has gorgeous art, endless atmosphere and utterly captivating stories. Last month I covered the first story, Somewhere in the Shadows, since this one was only number two and I could track the series evolution better, and I loved the series and could make room on the schedule so there was no real reason NOT to do it. And since i covered most of the series background that time, I can dive in quicker to this one. So join me under the cut to see how the series evolves and to see a black cat take on white supremacists with the help of a smelly weasel. 

First things first.. the cover, which is from the original version and was lovingly reprinted in my copy, is goregous and simple: John grimly and camly carrying a scared child through a bilzzard past the wreckage of a plane. It’s instantly eye catching, our black furred hero in a bilzzard of white.. and also serves as a great metaphor for a story dealing with white suprmacy as well as our hero trying to find the child he’s trying to keep safe on the cover. It’s just perfect. 

We open in the Line, a city in the arctic, with Blacksad morosely narrating how one day he’ll write his memoirs, as he figures they’ll sell well given the public’s grim fascination with murder. We soon find out why tha’ts on his mind as the comic “pans out”... to show a black bird with a long neck horrifcally and publicly hung in a hate crime. It’s an utterly ghastly sight I will not be sharing, but needless to say it sets the tone and the setting in one horrific image. 

John’s interuptted though by the introduction of Weekly. Weekly is a local journalist who true to his name, only takes a bath once a week and immidetly pisses off john by being nosey, assuming john is also a journalist and casually remaking about this horror show being a hate crime. Despite this terrible first impression.. Weekly goes on to be John’s best friend and sidekick, providing some levity in his grim world for the audience, while as we’ll soon see being FAR more useful and competent than his demeanor and lack of hygine lets on. 

For now though, John has to go meet his client: Miss Grey, a schoolteacher whose hired John to find a missing girl, Kaylie, one of her students. Those around the neighborhood are relcutant to look into it, including Kayle and the police, who as we’ll learn very soon are white suprmacists, simply blame it on the Local Black Claws gang. Miss Grey also fills us in on the line’s backstory: it was once a propserous suburban place.. until the local plane plant closed down, leading to a rise in crime and unemployment with the place slowly but surely falling into decay.  Despite this she’s determined to stay and fight.. and John is touched by her noblility and tells her he will do everything he can. And while that’s a natural thing to tell your client.. it feels genuine, that John senses this woman’s deep resolute will to keep going, and feels for her as the ONE PERSON who cares a small child went missing and isn’t either ignoring it or simply being a racist dickhead about it.  John may hide it under lairs of cynsim and grumpus... but he’s good man and as we see he’ll go to hell and back to do the right thing. 

We soon properly meet the titular Arctic Nation... who are as you would expect, a white suprmacist group, calling yesterday’s lynching a necssary thing and spouting your usual horrifying rhetoric about a white world and stuff. The Arctic Nation are also made up almost entirely of Arctic Animals.. and honeslty that’s a way to do a white supermacy metaphor I never thought of, simply having the fur be black and white, and using the fact most arctic animals are by nature predators to give us some naturally intimdating looking antagonists. One of them also is clealry not Happy John’s around, nor that John rather than be afraid or look nervous in the slightest... is simply pissed as he should be and simply dosen’t give a shit.. and given assholes like this love attention and pissing people off, it probably makes him even madder. Good. 

John runs into Weekly again, and while still not happy to see him, Weekly is nothing but friendly and offers peace and a warm drink in a cold land.. and John takes him up on it noting in narration that since they are clear outsiders here... why not? Any port in a storm and given the blizzard of white supramcey just outside, John can’t help but take refuge in a diner. There’s also a really nice touch in  their drinks with John having a simple .. alchohol ( I don’t drink sue me) and Weekly having something called a burobon mlikshake . Weekly outlines that the Line is about to explode with racial tension with two diffrent suprmacist groups: The arctic nation , who he freely and rightly mocks and the aformentioned black claws. 

Before they can continue though two of the goons from outside come in and harass an old black bird at the counter, saying can’t he read the sign.. before he’s revealed to be blind. They confront John next... who gloriously takes NONE of thier shit, wirly pointing to his patch of white fur, which indicates him as mixed race in this unverse and says does this count. 

The racist asshole dosen’t take the hint that maybe this isn’t going to work and tries provoking john by threatning ot turn him into a coat.. and john insults his, and his whiteness and we cut over to the head of the white suprmacist rally asking the owner to call the police, the owner only relcutantly agreeing when we see the supremacist asshole fly into the bar. 

So naturally we next see our heroes in the office of Karup, the local police chief, polar bear and not even hiding it white suprmacist who talks proudly about his confederate saber on the wall and asks if John knows who it belonged to. His response is priceless. 

Damn.. it takes balls of fucking platinum, on both of them, to be called into an unapolgetic white suprmacists office and roast him to his fucking face. It’s what we should all do granted but still, props to both of htem. it also shows Weekly, desipte being kinda sketchy.. is every bit as brave as his friend, and takes these fuckers every bit as seriously. That is to say they both KNOW their in danger.. they just don’t CARE, feeling rightly that simply cowtowing to Karup like he wants is not worth thieir damn time, and that he deserves no fear, no respect and nothing he wants. Just mockery for clinging to an outdated and horrific set of ideals like all white supremacists then and now. Karup is forced to let htem off with a warning as his wife shows up.. and Weekly wolf whistles at her because awesome he may be he is not a class act and this is still the 1950′s where that was okay for some reason. 

We next catch up to John that night where he’s taking in a driving movie involving giant ants. 

He’s naturally here not to take in a good b movie, nor is he being forced to watch it by mad scientests, but here to find Kaylie’s mother Dinah, who agrees to talk to him after her shift.. and John grabs a peak at her ass while she walks away.

Dinah has good reason for not calling the cops though... as she puts it, she has no faith in white justice, and given the police chief had a fucking confderate flag in his office, and many STILL do today, yeah fair point. We also find out she used to work for Karup, so she knows damn well he won’t be helpful at best or use looking for as an excuse to lynch more innocent black men at worse. Of course John, while symaptehtic brings up something about Oldsmill, and gets rightfully slapped for it. 

We next see John talking to weekly, who he’s just kind of accepted is his sidekick now. Their grocery trip is interupted by the claws, who show up, beat up the racist shopkeep.. and then harass our heroes, beating up weekly to get him to say their innocnet of the kidnapping. This however.. shows that while not AS bad as Karup, clearly.. their still not good people. Weekly GLADLY would’ve printed what they asked if they’d actually asked, and instead they beat him up to do so, and the person who did so dosen’t endear himself further by asking john “What happened to your snout brother?”. As with last time, his response is fucking perfect

He wisely backs off though is still confrontational about it. Weekly wonders if john really was going to shoot him, and my response is...

He absolutley would’ve. John asks if he’s really going to print that crap.. and of course Weekly is. That’s where the story is, and he points out he’ sa star reporter and his name apparently comes from coming in with a big story once a week. John isn’t amused.. but could use Weekly’s help and tell shim to keep an eye on Karup’s household for him since he can sneak in there and be far less notecable. And he agrees. I’ll go ahead and say it.. weekly was an invaluable addition to the story and a missing peace for Blacksad they needed: like robin to batman, he provides someone for him to talk to, a bit of badly needed levity, an dprovides blacksad an ally no matter the case or situation, and one who has every reason to help both because hteir friends.. and because it’ll get him a good story, and his background as a reporter gives good reason as to why he’s good at this.

Something else to note is John has also taken on more of a sarcastic streak as you can tell and I love it: instead of being grim all the time it gives a human touch to him.. while still making him utterly badass as he usually uses it to disarm an asshole flexing their power over him. It simply adds some shades to his already wonderful personality. 

We finally meet Oldsmill who denies having anything to do with it, as the rumor is his heavily inbred son is Kaylee’s father and Oldsmill belivies it was karup since he was apparnetly married to a black woman once. Oldsmill is also a racist ass blaming the downturn in things on black people instead of you know, the plant closing. John has what he needed.. and has a good shot at oldsmill pointing out if he actually mixed races his son might of turne dout okay instead of a braindead inbred moron. 

Weekly hides in the bushes at karups.. and soon finds his wife plowing the head of the arctic nation we met earlier,  huk, behind his back. “I love this job!”.... dude.. no just.. no. Don’t watch people have rough sex that’s just.. no. But he found out more as tailing them afterwords, he found them at a table with Kaylee’s mom, clearly wanting her to keep quite for some reason with Dinah not wanting her to suffer. Naturally she’s John’s next stop.. but instead he finds her brutally murdered, her body twisted and him lamenting that someone so full of life.. has lost hers and even if he achieves his goal now.. Kaylee lost her mother. And involved in whatevers’ going on or not.. she clearly loved her kid and whatever she got caught up in she died.. simply for proioritzing her daughte’rs own saftey and wellbeing over it. She was also stabbed with what John suspects to be.. a saber. Hmmmm.

John has no proof.. but decides fuck it, and goes to confront Karup anyway. His wife speaks up against him as does Huk... but given Weekly told john about her taking Huk in through the back door yeah... that dosen’t go great. And after Choir practice, Karup beats the every loving piss out of Huk for it, and tells him before that that, now weekly's’ actually printed the story he said he was going to, it’s open season on him and blacksad. 

So unsuprisingly, Blacksad suspects he’s been kidnapped when we catch up with John and interogrates the blind bird from earlier, whose trying to sell weekly’s camera, and successfully batman’s him into taking him to where Weekly is. Menawhile Karup confronts his wife.. who mocks him and has no sympathy and accuses him of being a pedophile like everyone else has. He takes it badly and tells her to get out and to no one’s suprise.. has an arctic nation flag in his drawer. I do not get what this was supposed to prove as we know he’s a white suprmacist piece of shit and that previous scene with Huk showed that he’s directing the nation from beihind the scenes. 

While the Bird brings john through and John laments his time as a vetran,  we find their headed for a nation meeting, complete with Klan style robes.. and Karup getting ambusehd. someone having put bloody children’s clothes in his trunk. Karup is hunt and while he clearly IS innocent, given Huk both presented the evidence and let’s face it it was either him or Karup’s wife jezebel, and I have no sympahty because not being a pedophile does not make him any less of a horrible abusive piece of  shit. 

Someone we DO actually care if they live or die next is weekly, whose terrified, the defiance from earlier gone.. which is fair as he knows he’s about ot die and dosen’t know John.. is right there, revealed via his paws as he prepares weekly to escape and has infilrated the nation in the robes. John’s next action is also utterly badass as he SWINGS FROM THE NOOSE, KICKS OVER THE BURNING CROSS THE NATION SET UP. 

Huk escapes and unsuprisingly is behind the kidnapping.. and the Magpie from earlier knew it and tires to stop him and gets shot. John kills one of the white suprmiacists and makes his wya out, finding Weekly, who escaped as john instructed and the two find the bird man.. is not dead and he takes htem to Kaylee. He dies in a really tearjerking scene, clearly senile and clearly talked into this. 

Naturally the next day, John reveals via narration that the Line’s remaining police didn’t give a shit about what happened, a racist paper actively comended it as “how justice should go” and that Huk escaped... and naturally John isn’t going to let that shit slide down the glass. Huk however is dead when he finds him having gotten his but clealry this dosen’t quite satisfy john. 

John listens to the song “Strange Fruit” while dressing up all fancy and looking damn good I must say. He’s preparing for a funeral and Weekly tries to help his pain.. by offering him the shots of Huk and Jeezebel.. only John spots something and tells weekly to get all he can on Karups first wife. 

Turns out the funeral is Karups... and John confronts the widow who tries to brush him off.. before tearing her shirt open to reveal a black spot.. which while a neat reveal.. GOD that’s fucking creeptastic. Seriously while this story is moving, brilliant and all sorts of things i’ll gush about.. it has some REALLY creepy undertones at times with John’s treatment of Dinah, Weekly taking pornographic pictures of two people without their consent, and now this.. I mean it’s not exactly unsuual for the time but you may want to not make your heroes look like sex monsters is all i’m saying. 

We finally get the full story: Dinah and Jezebel are Karups children the product of his first marriage that was geninely loving.. until Karup turned bitter and racist and upon finding out she was pregnant drove his wife out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of winter and left her to die. ...... sorry I was just fondly remembering him getting his neck snapped by the noose. Anywyays their mom did surivive long enough to give birth but the sheer pain of well.. everything collapsed on her and she eventually passed when they were young. Both sisters wanted revenge and since Jeez could pass for white, she married her own dad, and got some satstifactoin over not letting him touch her, and got Kaylee into the house. So she seduced Huk, even if clearly by the panel sleeping with that piece of shit greatly hurt Jez to do, and used him to set up the fake kidnapping scheme to frame Karup as a pedophile. 

As for why Dinah died.. if it wasn’t obvious by now Huk did it not realizing Jez and Dinah were sisters and took Dinah’s udnerstandable worry about her daughter.. as concern she’d squeal. His death and who did it should be obvious and given he’s almost as big a piece of shit as karup, only barely avoiding that because his murder wasn’t his own PREGNANT wife. Jez assures John it’s all over and her mother and sister can rest in peace.. but John cuts through this with one simple fact: “What about Kaylee?” Sure Karup deserved it.. but going so far int heir revenge cost a girl her mom, and the weight of this finally hits Jez who merley collapses saying “i’m cold” knowing that in the end.. her revenge wasnt worth it. And really that’s the center of the story: Revenge.. and how it’s ultimately hollow. To quote Mr. Miyagi from the karate kid on revenge, as I feel it’s UTTERLY relevant to this story “You might as well dig two graves”. The sisters COULD’VE had a decent life on their own, living as who they were in spite of karup, leaving the line behind when they could and taking Kaylee with them. Instead? While Karup and Huk rightfully died and those deaths are a good thing.. the arctic nation shows no signs of slowing down and likely didn’t losoe EVERYONE in the factory fire, a child is orphaned, Jez wasted her life as someone she wasn’t to get revenge on a man who didn’t even know she existed. While two very bad men died.. it cost two other lives and a child’s innocence to do so. 

So we close at Miss Greys, having taken Kaylee in for obvious reasons. John encourages Grey to keep going, that maybe with someone like her.. this region might get better. While the adults are lost... maybe the children can be better. Though John sadly looks at Kaylee, after she pelts week with a snowball, and i’ts clear from both of their faces the events haunt them. While john saved her.. he still couldn’t save Dinah. We end though on a very lovely scene: as John and Week prepare to get the hell out of dodge their job done, Weekly, seeing John’s very haunted by the events reveals the real reason behind his name: the boys only think he changes his underwear once a week. And this gets a hell of a laugh out of john... and ends a very dark story with a very grim resolution on a hopeful note: Things may of ended terribly.. but with the nation weak.. there’s some hope at least things might get better... and sometimes a little hope is all you need. It’s also a nice show of how far the two have come: From John really destesting week.. to the two being the close friends they’ll be from here on out, there for each other no matter what. And it really shows in the endings: Last album ended iwth John morosely sinking back into the shadows. Here while not much happier.. it ends with him at least.. not alone.. and with some hope things will get better. They have to. 

Final Thoughts:

Arctic Nation is a masterpice. While the sexist comedy bits have not aged well the story is THROUGHLY relevant, a story of revenge, prejudice and standing up to prejudice, and after the last four years of having a president blantly favor white suprmacists and corrupt cops while things only got worse.. seeing John stand up to that flavor of monster with bravey, wit and most importantly no fear, was UTTERLY cathartic. It’s a captivating story that keeps you hooked the whole time. 

And while on it’s own the story is very good and stands firm, as the second adventure for john.. it improves on somewhere in the shadows in every way except the art, which was already perfect last time and is just as excellent this time and is easily some of the best comic book art period. But the narrative is far more intresting this time going from a pretty standard noir setup to a fairly unique one as while “hero is stuck in a town where he’s an unwelcome outsider” isn’t new, having that blended with white supremacy is brilliant and provides an unyileding wave of tension over the story, as our hero is ONLY not lynched right away because his enimies are being careful and trying to appear resonable when their just bigoted bullies with delusions of grandeur like all whit esuprmacists. Our hero is not safe, he is not welcome, but he WILL NOT give up on a child whose been lost and needs his help. It’s a far more gripping setup and the payoffs including the awesome warehouse climax and the huge reveal at the end, all feel oh so worth it but the journey is never boring. THe additoin of Weekly was also easily the best move, as while he probably wasn’t intended to be permenant, his goofball demanour, skill beneath that, and great dynamic with John add some levity to the grim nature of blacksad’s world, and give him someone to work off of so we don’t get all the exposition via the narration, allowing it to breathe and come about when needed rather than be a constant presence. While Somewhere in the Shadows was good.. Arctic Nation is a masterpiece, and teh series would keep that level of quality and nuance from here on out. 

I’ll be taking a break from blacksad for a while, so I’m genuinely not sure when i’ll be getting to red soul as I have other projects I deserpately need to get back to in april first, but i promise he’ll return some day. For now if you liked this review, follow me for more including weekly reviews of ducktales and amphibia, a lena sabrewing retrospective and if you really like this you can chip in a buck or two a month on patreon. The more contirbutions I get, the more likely i’ll hit my stretch goals and I have some pretty neat ones so check it out, there’s a link on my blog. And  see you at the next rainbow. 

[melissagt]

Where did I go?

So a friend on FB asked how I was doing and instead of typing everything over again, I figured I would just copy/paste it here too...in case anybody was wondering where I’ve been...

I have ups and downs. I got laid off a couple weeks ago...my last day of work is October 7th. It's been hard. I knew the company is going through changes, that’s public knowledge, but I thought I was safe because I've been there for 14 years and I'm one of the top of my team in terms of performance. I’ve always been the one with the sun shining out of her ass (sorry for the image, but that’s the way I’ve always been treated at work). Which means I made more money than my team mates. That was the deciding factor. That’s what put the target on my back. I was just a number. Who would have thought being a high performing player would have actually screwed me over in the end? 

Anyways...I get 22 weeks of severance (it comes as one lump payment, so yay taxes up the wazoo) so I can pay off all my debt when I start on unemployment. My resume is out there on Indeed and LinkedIn etc etc. Multiple people have given it the thumbs up. But...I haven't had luck finding any comparable jobs. Oh, they’re out there...I just can’t get them. Not now. I thought I was skilled, but it feels like my 14 years have meant nothing. The way the US is right now with jobs, it's a seller's market...meaning recruiters can ask for the moon and always find higher-skilled people tripping over themselves for jobs beneath them. So while I'm trying to post for a lateral position, in reality I'm going to end up having to start over again in a call center taking calls. Because while I'm experienced, there are people way more experienced than I am clamoring for the same jobs...who under normal circumstances, wouldn’t even be competing with me because they'd be my boss or even my boss’s boss. But because of The Cheeto™ and his (mis)management of COVID (along with everything else he’s done), we're all fighting with each other over scraps...and it’s only going to get worse...

I'm going to take a breath...realize that I'll be okay while I'm on unemployment...hope that gets extended past the state base of 26 weeks, and concentrate on my artwork. My dream is to make money with my art...I don't need to make as much as I do/did...enough to live ok and I'd be happy. I know other people have taken this kind of adversity and gotten the opportunity to do what they love. I just hope I can be so lucky. 

And if all else fails, there's a myriad of entry-level call center gigs out there...I have an insurance call center background, but whether it's a bank or insurance or whatever...a call center is a call center. In fact, while I don’t relish the idea of being chained to a phone again (believe me, call center work is brutal), it would be refreshing to have a job I can actually put down at night and take a vacation from (I literally have not taken a full day off this entire year because I have no backup...so even on days off I’m still logging in for at least an hour and half to do essentials...because that’s the way I roll...yada yada about the sun shining from places as mentioned above). But good lord I would love if I could somehow find a way to make ends meet with artwork. My husband is still working (for the same company that axed me...and we're keeping our fingers crossed he doesn't get the boot).

But the worst part is that I get that the company needs to make changes...but I had to learn the hard way that all they care about is their image. They said they would do everything they could to avoid involuntary separations...that they would redeploy staff to avoid it and even upskill where necessary. But those were just words to make themselves look good. They're not doing any of that. I didn't get a thank you or a we're sorry or anything. Just "buh-bye". I tried applying for a position in my same department that would literally be the next natural step in career progression for me and I got turned down today because it's a seller's market for jobs and they can ask for completely ridiculous pedigrees when last year I would have been more than qualified. (Hell, my boss, who was also laid off on the same day, by the way...was even grooming me for that same mother-fucking position as part of my career development.) And even worse...I have to train the rest of the people on my team, the ones who stayed with the pack and are safe, on how to do my job after I'm gone. If it wasn't for the severance check in two weeks, I'd have told them (the company) to take the eternal bird and stuff it. I don’t hold it against my team at all...I will miss them and I hope to keep in contact with a good number of them...but good fucking god do I have things I want to say but can’t say about that company.

And please no comments about how America sucks. Yes, it sucks. I fear/hate/loathe the direction the country is going. I don’t want to live here anymore. But it’s not like I can just uproot my life and go someplace else. So here I am. In America. In Connecticut, one of the most expensive states in the country to live in. That is my life. My family is here. My husband’s family is here. So here we stay...and here I vote. 

But that’s what’s going on in my life. Right now the Excedrin Migraine is finally starting to kick in to help take away some of the pressure in my skull from crying earlier. Sorry to be such a downer. It seems like everybody is down these days. 2020 is the worst year of my life. The worst year of a lot of people’s lives, I’d imagine. But somehow, we’ll make it through. 

[canimumblr]

I wish I had found a new job before lockdown happened. I wish I’d taken my friend up on her offer to go work at Target instead. I cannot with my job anymore.

Monday I cried on the phone talking to my boss about how I felt I couldn’t handle my job anymore, and was having such severe panic attacks at work that I couldn’t finish my shifts sometimes, and I was desperate for something to do. During that conversation I told him that I was honestly reconsidering whether I could even stay with this job if it stayed this demanding long-term, and that I would need to rescind my offer to work voluntary overtime because ever since I started doing it the panic attacks have gotten substantially worse and my health is really suffering and I didn’t know what to do.

TWO. FUCKING. DAYS. LATER. this motherfucker sends out a mass email to our entire team telling us he’s mandating us to be on call for BOTH of our days off (on alternating weeks--two weeks a month I’m on call for Tuesdays, and two weeks a month I’m on call for Saturdays). Never mind the fact that most people already fucking have commitments on their days off (I know I do) and I can’t work this for logistical reasons.

THIS is the response to me telling him that my health is suffering because of the increased demands of work right now. To increase it more. If I could afford to, I would’ve 100% quit on the spot. I’m just floored.

I sent back a polite email expressing my disappointment and asking what can be done. If he doesn’t respond well to that, my next response will be a little more...idk, detailed. 

Pointing out that while he CLAIMS this is to ease the burden on chatters, it’s really only slightly lowering the queue, meaning chatters are still doing the same amount of work but there are more of us doing the same amount of work so customers don’t wait long. In short, ensuring the company more sales/money while not actually allowing any individual chatter to have any reprieve. Also telling him that if not enough people are signing up for voluntary overtime, that means that people either can’t do it, or don’t think it’s worth it. Overtime can be further incentivized to make it worth it for those who can, but for those who can’t do it, telling them to just do it anyway is only going to create problems for all parties involved.

And if he still doesn’t respond well to that, I’m using my employment as leverage. I know I’m one of their top-performing employees. If what I need to do is just keep missing work and also refusing to come in for those overtime shifts until they fire me, so be it. You can collect unemployment if you get fired in most cases so at least I won’t be completely out of income.

I’d rather not do that, because this job pays me really well and when they’re NOT pulling this kind of bullshit I count myself lucky to have it, but to do this, IMMEDIATELY after one of your employees tells you they’ve been having panic attacks several times a week because they can’t keep up with the increased demands of the job, is just bullshit. There’s no justification for it.

I have another coworker who’s going another route--he’s going to inquire about Minnesota state law requiring employers to pay employees for all hours they’re expected to be on call if they are expected to stay close to the work premises. We’re working from home, but also he made it clear that we are expected to be available and ready to log in at a moment’s notice if we’re called in which seems close enough to count. So that’ll use a different kind of leverage.

I’m just so tired. I’ve broken through the unmitigated rage into just...hopeless depression about this situation. I don’t want to hate my job like this again. I don’t want to feel trapped at a job that destroys my mental health because I can’t afford to not work there. I did that about a decade ago and almost killed myself, it got so bad. 

I don’t know what to do.

[animeraider]

Five Orders

Don't feel sorry for me at all. I missed getting screwed by this by a whopping $0.67.

There were four "executive orders" signed by Trump over the weekend. Well, actually three were only memos and the one that actually is an executive order doesn't put money in anyone's pocket (and in fact makes it worse).

Actually, there were FIVE orders, but one of them only became public today. I'll get to that in a moment.

The one everyone is talking about is of course the addition of $400 to the unemployment benefits everyone gets, provided that the states pay for it up front, congress agrees to reimburse the states, and the money comes from FEMA just as Hurricane Season starts up. That one was a memo, by the way.

The other one everyone is talking about is the temporary stoppage of the payroll tax - for which I make $0.67 per week too much to qualify for. That's okay by me. The tax is only deferred - it's still going to be due by April 15, 2021. The difference is that I'm still (maybe) going to get a refund. Everyone still working who makes less than I do probably won't. Oh, and if it becomes permanent,. as Trump suggested, Social Security ends almost immediately, because that's how it's funded. This one was also a memo.

He ordered Student Loan Payments suspended until January. That's all fine and dandy, but the money is still owed. Oh, and you also have to apply for it, and show hardship. This one is ALSO a memo.

The executive order: You should read it. He spends the entire first paragraph bashing the Chinese. It states that it shall be the U.S. policy to try to prevent evictions. To consider halting them on a case-by-case basis. No evictions have as of yet been halted. And on those case by case basis the first consideration is to CONSIDER financial aid, not halt evictions. While it is an executive order, it doesn't actually DO anything.

And I held this one off until last, the 5th "order" was to tell states that they are to resume "normal" operations regarding SNAP (what we used to call food stamps). A general waiver/expansion was granted to give states flexibility on who qualifies for SNAP, and as a result the number of people in the country who use the program increased 17%. 6 Million People who now had access to food they had lost due to the pandemic. The states have been ordered to go back to a pre-COVID-19 footing by September 1, 2020.

So what is the end result of Trump's orders? The removal of tax relief in 2021, evictions, an increase in Student Debt, a racist screed against China, and soon to follow, BREAD LINES. It's been 100 years since we've really seen those on a massive scale. We're about to again, unless Congress acts - which they probably won't.

Allow me to amend that: The Senate probably won't. The House passed their part of the bill back in April.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On another front.

I have no room in my life for mean people. Angry, sure. Committed, certainly. Opposed to my own ideas, of course. But not mean. This is just mean.

If you still can find yourself supporting this administration, kindly fuck off. You've killed this country, and I want no part of you.

When I was a child we were proud try at least claim to be the greatest nation on Earth. We're not anymore. We don't even break the top 50. And it's their fucking fault. We are an empire in decline, and our current Nero will be remembered as the capstone that brought it to an end. Our 40 year decline is nearly complete.

I don't know how to teach any of you not to be a dick. I've tried, and have changed not a single thing. The dicks are still dicks, and the good people are still good. I have not one person in my life who is middle ground, regardless of political affiliation. I have Republican friends, believe it or not.

But at this point we are no longer trying to prevent the destruction of the American way of life; that's already come and gone. Everyone says that they would stand up and prevent this country becoming Fascist. Instead, we all just watched and it slid into our pockets.

We need to make a decision on what AMERICA will be NEXT.

Because if this continues, I want no part of that either. There are plenty of better places to live.

And because I love you, this:

[missroserose]

coronavirus meme

Cross-posted from Dreamwidth.  Feel free to answer the questions yourself!  I’d love to hear how you’re doing, and what better time to make something go viral...?

1. Are you an essential worker? Nope.  I have Opinions on who is and isn't classified as essential and how much they're (not) being compensated for their risks, but ultimately there's not much I can do about that, other than tip generously when I do things like order delivery.  Regardless, massage is pretty low on the list of essential services, so I was laid off two weeks into quarantine. 2. How many drinks have you had since the quarantine started? Recently a friend asked what I'd been doing to cope, and the snarky-but-uncomfortably-truthful answer that immediately came to mind was "drinking".  So I'll let y'all draw your own conclusions. 3. If you have kids, are they driving you nuts? No kids.   4. What new hobby have you taken up during this? Other than curling in an anxiety ball and constantly refreshing news and social media?  Um.  Well, I saw a post on Pillowfort about a local papercrafting store that was doing $50 grab bag orders where they'd stuff a box full of supplies and send them to you.  Figuring now might not be a bad time to get back into papercrafting, I went ahead and ordered one; it came with a rather nice A5-size planner and a number of stickers/inserts/what have you.  I've started browsing through the Instagram planner community and am working on a plan (hah!) to start my own account/YouTube channel...I figure, since creative work is all I can really do right now and my biggest trouble with consistently finishing creative work is the lack of structure, maybe this'll help me get my butt in gear?  Or it'll become another project that disappears off the radar.  But hey, at least it'll give me something to focus on in the interim. I'm pinkpunkplanner on Instagram, if anyone wants to follow along. I've also been cooking more.  It's never been my favorite hobby but it's become weirdly calming. 5. How many grocery runs have you done? Two.  So far we've stuck entirely to Trader Joe's, since that's where our cat food comes from and we've been able to get everything else we need there.  I suspect a Costco trip is upcoming, however. 6. What are you spending your stimulus check on? Already dumped it onto our credit card, where it nicely made up for my lost income this month.  We'll see if the Illinois unemployment office ever gets back to me about my claim. 7. Do you have any special occasions that you will miss during this quarantine? Nothing that immediately comes to mind, so long as my family all stays healthy.  I'm going to be rather upset if my mother or grandmother fall sick, though, given that I skipped visiting Alaska last year for financial/time reasons and indeed had plans to visit in April but...well. 8. Are you keeping your housework done? Ish? Enough to be functional, nowhere near what my mother would approve of. 9. What movie have you watched during this quarantine? Several, in fact.  I saw The Birdcage and Her for the first time, both of which I suspect are going to become favorites.  Jojo Rabbit I was slightly disappointed by; it was cute but didn't feel quite as narratively coherent as some of Waititi's other work.  The new version of Emma was absolutely sumptuous.  Brian and KC suggested your name. one night, which was stunningly beautiful.  I've watched both Ladyhawke and Portrait of a Lady on Fire with friends via voice chat; the former is a perennial favorite and the latter also beautiful in a very minimalist way.  Probably some others I've forgotten. 10. What are you streaming with? iTunes, Netflix, and Hulu, possibly with a little Amazon Prime and Crunchyroll mixed in. 11. 9 months from now is there any chance of you having a baby? A miniscule one, I suppose. 12. What's your go-to quarantine meal? I've made this roasted-root-vegetables-and-chickpeas dish a few times.  If you don't have a NYT subscription, it's really simple:  Take a pound and a half of root vegetables (I use sweet potatoes and carrots), chop into pieces of roughly equal thickness, pour onto a sheet pan, season with salt, pepper, thyme if you have it, add enough olive oil to coat generously.  Stir together.  Roast for 30 minutes at 350.  While they roast, open a can of chickpeas, drain and rinse, toss with olive oil and whatever spice mixture that you've had sitting in the back of the cupboard intending to use (I have an Indian-flavored one that's been excellent).  Add to the pan with the vegetables, give everything a stir, raise oven temperature to 425 and roast another 15 minutes.  Mix together some yogurt (2/3 cup seems about right), salt, fresh garlic, and any seasonings you feel like adding; when the vegetables come out, serve them in dishes with yogurt sauce dolloped on top.  Delicious, warm, filling, and reasonably healthy. 13. Is this whole situation making you paranoid? The problem with not knowing the extent of the threat is that we can't really know the line where anxiety becomes paranoia.  This may be directly contributing to my current mental health state. 14. Has your internet gone out on you during this time? No, thankfully.  RCN's been sending out regular updates about the upgrades they've been implementing, and I've seen solid evidence (trucks with workers, improved physical infrastructure) that this is the case.  One building down the street from us has two junction boxes, one labeled "RCN" and the other "Comcast".  The RCN one is neatly wired with everything aligned and secured and all superfluous cabling removed.  The Comcast one...well, I'll let Adam speak for me on that one. 15. What month do you predict this all ends? See above re: uncertainty.  One of the things giving me anxiety is the sheer fucking hubris of the people in power making noises about "acceptable losses" in reopening the economy before we have anything like a robust testing/contact tracing/protection system in place.  Does the economy exist to serve humanity, or do humans exist to be ground up in the machine of economic progress?  I suspect we're quickly learning where the bulk of the USA lands on that spectrum. 16. First thing you’re gonna do when you get off quarantine? It probably says a lot about my current mental state that I can't really picture it.  But "make arrangements to go visit my family" is likely high on the list.  "Spend some quality time with my boyfriend" is also up there, assuming we're still together. 17. Where do you wish you were right now? Somewhere in 2021 or 2022, so I could get the uncertainty out of the way, take stock of the situation, begin the grieving process, and work on putting my new life together. 18. What free-from-quarantine activity are you missing the most? Looking at other people as potential friends and loved ones instead of potential vectors. 19. Have you run out of toilet paper and hand sanitizer? Funny story—I signed up for a subscription about a year and a half ago from Who Gives A Crap, and in order to get the best price I just got the largest (48-roll) box and, when they email me about the next installment, I delay until we need it.  So our latest box came in...at the start of March. As for hand sanitizer, I barely use it (I prefer hand washing, it's less drying if you have good soap), so the stuff we have will probably last for months. 20. Do you have enough food to last a month? Probably, although the cats would be pretty skinny.

[eternaljouska]

Redamancy, Chapter 5 - Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Husband!JihoonxReader

Genre: Angst, the tiniest amount of Fluff

Chapter: one | two | three | four | FIVE | six | seven | eight | nine | end | epilogue |

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: My beta recommended Heavy by Linkin Park ft. Kiiara to go with this, and I approved (It would fit the next chapter so much, I feel like.) Also, Happy Jun The8 or The8 of Jun~

--

You wake up to the sight of Jihoon’s back. And you are a mix of candy floss and gutter water. The latter dominates.

Well, you guess gutter water is a much better breakfast than a bowl of frogs.

You separate yourself from the bed to clean up a little. In the process, you find yourself inspecting the two toothbrushes in the glass, white for Jihoon and blue for you, he told you last night. As you brush your teeth, you can’t tear your eyes away from the white toothbrush, your mind giving the owner a visit. You wonder whether you’ve been very demanding. And you wonder why Jihoon’s been very pliant to your wants. The thought follows you to the kitchen as you prepare one of Jihoon’s favorite meals for breakfast.

Considering how busy your head is, in addition to your still-imperfect hand and shoulder, you finish the dish in record time. You take a lunchbox from the kitchen cabinet and fill it with Kimchi fried rice. You don’t realize you were doing it until you set the breakfast and the lunchbox atop the dining table. Little do you know, that lunchbox is meant for Jaemin. His class ends before lunch, but he always complains about the cafeteria foods. He once said that they are so below his standard, which is determined by his least favorite food that you make—which is anything contains broccoli. Since then you always pack him lunch or snack to eat on his break. And apparently, your body seems to fall back into that habit, even if you don’t remember having it.

“Oh, you remember?” Jihoon emerges out of nowhere with a question that you assume was born from the sight of food you laid on the table.

“Uh? This? You guys have always requested this for breakfast,” you answer, reminding him of the fact that you used to cook for him and his members whenever you could.

“Oh, right.”

He takes a seat in front of you as you serve him his rice. You notice that he keeps eyeing the lunchbox even after he said his thank you. You want to say something about it, but you don’t know what. So you just watch him and eat in silence. As if on cue, the silence is interrupted right after Jihoon places down his chopsticks by the ring of his cellphone. He frowns when he sees the contact name lighting his screen before he excuses himself from the table. You don’t even nod, still watching him quietly—observing.

When Jihoon comes back to help you clean up, you ask, “Do you have to go?” After you hear your own question, you feel like some whiny kids. “I mean… You can go if you have to.”

Jihoon halts on his way to place the plates to the sink. “No, I told them I’ll send everything they need through email. I’ll deal with things from home,” he said as he continues his steps, answering you without catching your searching eyes.

You know that the company doesn’t fully support the idea. You saw that in Jihoon’s face when he hung up the phone. And you know that his staying home working is not that much different from him being in the company building. Company studio or home studio, they’re all the same. “You can go, really. Don’t… Don’t worry about me.”

He is silent—calculating, you guess.

“Here.” You take the lunchbox and give it to him. “I’ll clean up. Go, they’re expecting you.”

Jihoon eyes the lunchbox again. He’s been looking at it throughout breakfast. He’s figured it’s for him, but you shouldn’t have any idea that he needs to go out before the phone call. You shouldn’t know that someone’s expecting him in his studio. Unless you did not know, yet you have expected him to be gone in the first place.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking the lunchbox from you. “I’ll take a quick shower first.”

And then I’ll be gone if that’s what you want.

Jihoon comes out of the meeting late in the afternoon with a sour mood. The CEO was plastering him with how he needs to be more responsible a second after he expressed his sympathy towards what’s happening to his wife. Jihoon can’t understand. It’s true that he hasn’t finished the previous plan, but his total submission should’ve been enough for at least two more comebacks, and yet he already has a new comeback plan shoved onto his plate.

He wishes he had stayed home instead. The company is easier to deal with when he doesn’t have to face them directly. He runs his finger through his hair in agitation. It seems to him like that’s one of the only emotions he’s left with after your accident—or maybe even before that. He feels like a bomb waiting for someone to press the detonation button or pick the wrong wire. And he might know just who that someone’s going to be.

“Why are you here?” Soonyoung asks him, every syllable of his words is laced with something more like venom rather than curiosity. “She’s just back, what… yesterday? Do you forget that this was exactly what made her end up in the hospital?”

Jihoon refuses to match Soonyoung’s fervor and answers matter-of-factly, “She’s okay with me going back to work. There are a lot of things I need to take care of anyway.”

“Is she really?”

“Yes, she’s kind of the one who told me to go. I was just going to use the home studio, but she told me to go.” His tone is defensive, but Soonyoung won’t accept that.

“And you just agree? Why do I feel like you want to get away from her? That’s what you’ve been doing since as long as I can remember,” he scoffs, and Jihoon doesn’t say anything, drawing out a sigh from the older man. “Why are you like this?”

And the bomb goes off.

“Why am I like this? You know nothing, Soonyoung! Nothing! She asked me to go. Maybe she also wants to get away from me. She even has my lunch packed! How do you think I feel? Huh?” Jihoon is tired of the blames he put on himself. He doesn’t need his members to do the same—to say the same things he’s been repeating in his head, to ask the same questions he’s not capable of answering. He needs the answers from you. He needs to know what to do, what you want. He needs to know that you want him, as much as he does. But he can’t even ask you that. Not when it’s obvious to him just what your answer is.

“I know what you’re like, you fool,” Soonyoung says, reeling Jihoon’s attention back to him. “You’re waiting. She’s waiting. And this waiting game won’t end if nobody does something. You guys used to understand each other, just like that. No words, no nothing”— Soonyoung places his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders—“You are my best friend, but so is she. And she’s hurting. You think you’re the only one who’s miserable from her amnesia? She is, too. And we are, too. She’s waiting for you. After all this time, that’s what she does,” he pauses and lets out another sigh when Jihoon refuses to look at him. “Don’t you love her?”

Jihoon’s head snaps up at Soonyoung’s question, searching for his eyes, before he nods weakly.

“Then fucking own it! All she ever does is loving and taking care of you. You said you’re sorry, but that’s all! Fucking do something about it, Jihoon. There are other people who’re willing to take your place, and the only thing preventing them from doing so is that it’s fucking obvious you’re the one for her. You know better than anyone what happened with her ex, and now you’re doing just the same.

“Is she dying the only acceptable reason for guys like you to tear yourself from work? To pay her any attention? I fucking swore I’ll beat you up if you ever hurt her, and I would’ve. But Seungkwan stopped me because only the sight of you sleeping beside her made her smile for a whole week. She’s happy with you”—he then scoffs—“on the rare occasion that you’re actually home. You said you want to make up for everything, then do it. She’s alive, Jihoon. And in her current state, she still manages to remember that she loves you—she loves you. You’re fucking lucky, you know that? Go, that house is your home, not this building or your studio. Go home, Jihoon.”

Jihoon is following Soonyoung’s advice by walking straight to the elevator on the lobby, but before he even enters the slow-working confinement, someone stops him. “Jihoon-ah! I’m sorry that CEO Han’s being insensitive to your case, and, uh, I pr-probably is about to do the same right now. I, uh, I was asked to arrange a meeting for you and, uh“—Jihoon is tapping his foot, plainly irritated to the man’s way of speaking—“it’s going to be in two hours from now,” the man finally finishes. He is Mr. Kim, the manager of Pledis’ new boygroup whose comeback they were discussing in their previous meeting.

Jihoon furrows his eyebrows and answers shortly, “I’m going to go home.”

“Ji-Jihoon-ah! Wait!” The man grabs for Jihoon’s hand to stop him from getting into the elevator. “They’re preparing for their mini concert these two weeks. There’s no other time. They’re already on their way here from a fansign. I was already not there with them to settle this comeback issue here. So, please, let me keep my job.” Jihoon looks at him in apprehension.

He really doesn’t like to be the reason for someone’s unemployment. So he gives in with a sigh, “Can they be here in thirty minutes? Or an hour? I really need to be home early.”

Mr. Kim stutters, “B-but they’re coming from Wonju, it’ll take them at least an hour and fifteen minutes. And- And I thought you might want to eat lunch first. I-“

“I don’t care about lunch. Just… Send them the rough comeback plan and ask them to study it on the way. I want this one to be a quick meeting. I’ll be in my studio. Call me as soon as they’re here.”

“O-okay.”

Waiting for time to pass without doing anything turns out to be such a pain in his arse. Jihoon tried to write, but his mind’s only capable of generating words full of sap and desperation. So he stopped. He’s been toying with the phone in his hand, pondering what would happen if he calls you. He feels ridiculous, like he’s back in his twenties. He’s about to jump into the pool of reminiscence, but a knock in the door yanks him away from the edge just before his feet leave the ground.

He opens the door to the face of one Mr. Kim. “I’m- I’m sorry, the boys are here.”

Jihoon doesn’t understand why Mr. Kim is always so nervous around him, and even after the meeting finishes roughly three hours later, the man keeps on apologizing profusely to him, going as far as walking Jihoon down to his car in the basement. He drives away as he watches Mr. Kim’s waving hand grows smaller and smaller in size.

It’s almost ten when he arrives home to you walking back and forth near the kitchen and biting your nails anxiously. Jihoon never gets the chance to process the growl in his stomach or the fact that he forgot his untouched lunchbox in his studio until the delicious smell of your food reaches his nose. He also never gets the chance to process the fleeting seconds between him catching your eyes to when you’re catching his body in an embrace.

“You’re home,” you whisper into his chest.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Jihoon doesn’t even notice the pet name coming out of his lips as he circles his arms around you tightly, relishing every nanosecond and willing it to stretch to infinity. His heart gears into overdrive, and he’s dizzy from the rush.

“Nothing,” you answer, your voice small. “I just… I just thought…”

It’s not nothing.

For most of the day, you’ve been in the Haven, trying to read books in one sitting and salvage your withering plants. You didn’t remember those poor plants from your short tour, too excited to swallow everything in you forgot to revel on the taste of details. In the middle of mending your white primrose, you noticed two circles of dirt on the table, indicating two missing pots. You paused your action and frowned, eyes roaming around the perimeter until you spotted two broken pots around one corner of the greenhouse, the plants have long since died.

You cleaned the mess with the broom and dustpan you found in storage that’s also filled with your gardening equipment. Lily of the valley, you thought as you picked up what’s left of the previously beautiful flower. The structure of the carcass was very telling, and the flower itself is held very close to your heart for you not to recognize it.

And then you heard it.

A shriek so raw and agonizing that you dropped the flower and jumped at the sound of it. It woke the wasps inside your stomach, and you staggered backward, eyes wide and hands trembling. Another sound followed: something solid met the concrete and broke. You placed one of your hands on your chest, a vain attempt to control your heart and lungs, and the other groped behind you for the table’s foot. Once you had a grip around it, you slumped down and leaned on it for support. Someone wailed as you hugged yourself. Then you saw a pot flying from behind you, and you closed your eyes and screamed. Timidly, you opened your eyes and saw that it had missed the corner where the brick wall meets the glass, falling on top of the already-broken pot.

It’s white, the lilies of the valley.

You shuddered as the vision plays again and again. The woman screamed and screamed repeatedly, her agony permeating your skin, and you spluttered your pleas. “Stop. Please, s-stop. Please.” It took all of your willpower to control your breathing. You prayed for you to breathe and for her to stop, and suddenly you’re in the living room. You gasped and tightened your grip on the table’s foot until your knuckles turned white, the room was spinning. You’re sitting down, but you’re falling. Then you heard another voice intercepted the woman’s voice, lighting a candle through your fogged mind. You took solace in that small fire once you’re able to label the owner of the voice. “J-Jihoon…” you whimpered. You saw his back walking away from you, so you tried once again, “Ji…” But his response was the slam of the door that took away the oxygen and fire within you.

And you became one with that woman in the harmony of agony.

“Y/n?” Jihoon coos, his hands already cupping your face without your knowledge. And you back away in surprise.

“I’m- I’m sorry“—you clear your throat—“Let-let’s just eat.”

--

[samsterham]

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot. 

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits. 

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies. 

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud  scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us. 

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

 I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together. 

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession. 

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS.