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thelonesomequeen · 6 months

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I have a random question. How is everyone doing in these trying times? Like it’s so hard out there right now while my partner and I both make what I thought was good money, yet we’re both really struggling. He just got a second job and I’m looking for another job where I can work from home. We were hopping to have a house by now, but are still living in a dinky apartment. Don’t know if we can ever afford kids. Forget a vacation. Social media has given me extreme fomo and made me feel like a failure compared to my friends despite having an MA. Seriously how are y’all managing? It’s hard out there. Sorry, I know sometimes you like to discuss other things 🫶🏻

The world really is a hot mess. It’s crazy how expensive everything keeps getting while wage remains stagnant for most people. It’s a really rough spot to be in for so many people.

I’m personally within the “ok, but I wish things were a lot better” camp. I’ve found myself in what’s now being called the millennial golden handcuffs. Golden meaning I was fortunate enough to buy a house before prices and interest rates skyrocketed, but handcuffed because I can’t afford to move from where I’m at. The house we live in now is a cute little starter home, but around the 5-10 year mark my husband and I had planned to sell our house and upgrade to something bigger before we had kids so we had the space we’d feel like we’d need to fit a growing family. Well. I’m fortunate to have a house, and I will never take that for granted, but selling it and moving now is out of the question because home prices have literally almost doubled where I live in the last 6 years. I literally could not even afford to buy the same house I already live in right now. It’s seriously insane.

But I feel with you on everything else. I thought my life would look a lot different by now and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever have the things I originally wanted for myself out of my adult life. I always wanted 2 kids when we were ready to start a family for various reasons I won’t get into right now, this will be long enough as is, but I don’t know if we can even afford 1 child in this economy when I see the prices of diapers, formula, and childcare. And it all just keeps getting more expensive every time you turn around. I try to think about those costs being tacked on to our already expensive bills and I’m not sure that we’ll be able to swing it. Not without making severely drastic changes anyway. I also wanted to see so much of the world by now through travel. Covid ruined a lot of travel plans I initially had, and now that we’re mostly in a post Covid world (yes, I acknowledge Covid isn’t truly over yet) the cost of travel has gone up so much that it’ll eat away too much of my savings that I’m not willing to part with. I’m always worried about needing that money for things like medical or home emergencies and spending it down on something like travel just doesn’t feel like a wise choice right now. And it’s hard to continue to save money when the cost of everything keeps increasing. It’s like a never ending circle where you just can’t get ahead.

I wish I had some sound advice to share with you that would help or make you feel better. (Shit, I need it too sometimes). Just try to keep in mind that sometimes what we see on social media isn’t always reflective of what’s happening in reality. For example, a good friend of mine had two babies during Covid, she and her husband bought a new, massive house for their little family, new cars, she’s always posting stories about new jewelry he bought her, and they’re constantly going on lavish looking trips or going to concerts and sporting events. Looking at their life on social media it’s like “wow, must be nice.” It’s really easy to feel envious when we see those things. There’s times where I’ve even wondered “how are they doing it?” and it turns out they aren’t. After a conversation she and I recently had about life in general while we were catching up, she told me they are $2.5 million dollars in debt between their student loans, mortgage, car payments, and maxed out credit cards. They are one small emergency away from losing everything they have because they can’t take on another expense. Their life looks beautiful on Instagram, but that’s a level of debt that makes me feel physically sick and I’d absolutely not want to trade her places for it. The jewelry, trips, concerts, and games are not worth that level of debt to me. Sure, it’s nice to experience those things. But not in exchange for being that financially unstable (IMO-you’re all free to disagree of course). Some of the debt is understandable, they need a home to live in (although their last house was still very nice and perfectly fine for the four of them), they need cars to get to work, and whatever expenses that come with raising their children. That’s understandable debt/finances that most people have. But they could easily be saving thousands of dollars a year on frivolous spending that’s done for the sole purpose of putting up a false facade on Instagram about living that easy high life. I personally don’t know why they feel compelled to do it, they aren’t trying to be influencers, nor are either of their families materialistic like that. But sometimes those great Instagram feeds aren’t always what they seem. 🦎

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golbrocklovely · 13 days

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Well I completely disagree with you. While sharing every single full video would be wrong, sharing smth small is literally not a big deal and it’s nobody’s waste of money. If anything it can even invite someone to that website, if they find the clip interesting.

With that being said. Snc whole brand is surrounded by them making money out of everything. Merch, videos, main channel, react channel, website etc etc. it really won’t hurt their wallets or anyone else’s if someone shares a 15 seconds clip from their website. People are anyway still signing for it, moreover the clip can as i said bring some new people (usually people do not like pay money for something blindly, so in a way those people helps them advertise it… and let’s face it… that members is not cheap), nobody will loose their money that they invested in that website, just bc some user4729$3 decided to share a few seconds clip from xplore. And just to be clear, i don’t really give a damn how snc make their money and how much they have it or wants to have, but because we live in tough times where not all of us have the same opportunities, then being mad as a person that was lucky enough to be born within a family that gave you a roof, food, phone, television and money for your own better future (like better education or even some connections for better job) at people who decided to share A FEW SECONDS CLIP is just stupid. Whether you are a member or not, being mad at such a short clip is stupid, especially that those clips aren’t something idk private or something completely different that snc do. There are really bigger problems on this world than a 15 seconds clip from xplore.com roaming around Twitter

look, i feel like i explained myself enough in my previous response to you. personally, i don't get why you are upset at ppl being upset when others share stuff from a site that clearly you aren't on or apart of since you continue to get the site's name wrong.

and if there are more important things to talk about going on in the world, why are you talking about this? just asking.

when you sign up for the site, you literally agree to NOT SHARING anything from it. otherwise you could get banned. it's really that simple. but hey, you do you. play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

not only that, but as someone that does pay for the site, i don't want to see shit from the site leaked onto twitter or tiktok or insta or any other platform. the entire point of the content is that it is exclusive. meaning that NOT EVERYONE IS MEANT TO SEE THE CONTENT. ppl are going to be excluded, that is the entire point of the platform. and as i stated before, i am by no means rich or well off. i literally live below the poverty line, almost lost my house multiple times, and will most likely have to start working a second job bc i do not make enough to get by whatsoever. that being said, if i couldn't afford it, i wouldn't expect someone to share the info with me just bc i'm a fan of snc. you're not owed exclusive content just bc you're poor and a fan of snc. sorry, that's just the way it is. it isn't life or death information. it's just random fucking videos.

and bffr, if you are someone that is struggling that much; can't afford a house, food, a job, a higher education, and have a shitty fucking family…. i highly doubt you give a single flying fuck about snc or xplrclub. you have bigger fish to fry.

also snc have almost 13 mil subs and advertise xplrclub regularly on their videos. they don't need free promo lmao

#ask #personal #snc bs

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cyncerity · 2 years

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I posted 482 times in 2022

360 posts created (75%)

122 posts reblogged (25%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cyncerity

@baka-monarch

@pixiethesizeshifter

@dingbatnix

@oh-i-need-a-name

I tagged 456 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#cyncerity - 345 posts

#mcyt gt - 278 posts

#mcyt g/t - 274 posts

#dad’s troubles au - 92 posts

#not g/t - 67 posts

#tw vore - 57 posts

#cyn art - 51 posts

#cynshitpost - 43 posts

#g/t - 29 posts

#store shifter au - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#don’t forget how much you and this community mean to him even now cause i’m damn sure wherever he is he’s watching all this go down hskslsh

My Top Posts in 2022:

this took three days but i’m actually really happy with it? that never happens??

anyway, feel free to send asks for this au, i think by now we know that i’m thinking about it too much, but i hope you like these!

also click for better quality

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131 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

Steddie stranger things borrower au is all I need and want in my depressing life

just for you 💖

The nickname “big boy” just became twice as flirty jokingly mocking

133 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

this isn’t my usual content but i could not rest until i drew this

this is kinda a “secret world of arriety” type au (if you’ve ever read “the borrower” or “the littles” book series, think of those) but with stranger things!

idk how much i’ll do with the idea cause stranger things isn’t my main hyperfixation, but i’m in love with this idea

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156 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

This was based off of an instagram meme that i think was made for women over the age of 50, but when vore inspiration strikes, you have to do something.

So, here’s this!! I may make this a series, I may not, but it may depend on if y’all even like this story or not lol

so without further ado, here’s some crimeboys noms >:)

tw: kinda implied mentions of neglect/abuse, swearing, and vore

He had to get away. Tommy couldn’t stay another day in this damn house, he felt like he was suffocating. He had to leave, somehow.

All of his things were already packed. The little he had was stored in various bags he had stolen from the attic when the thought of running away had first occurred to him. When he had first realized that he couldn’t stay in this shithole any longer.

Now to think of where. That had been his main concern. Hotels were too expensive, and god knows he didn’t have any friends who would let him stay with them.

Which left him with one option, though he was dreading it.

A few months ago, a new app had been created. A way to book “unique” temporary living arrangements with giants. It was part of some weird initiative to get humans and giants to get along better, and had fully stapled itself to the claims that some humans who lived with giants made about how being eaten could be “relaxing.”

That’s right, as awful an idea as this seemed to Tommy and almost everyone else, there was now a way to book what could qualify as the worlds weirdest airbnb within giants. Literally. Apparently some giants were completely ok with random humans using their organs as a weekend get away, because there were plenty on the app for Tommy to scroll through. And scroll he did.

He had realized a while ago that this may be the cheapest option, and had gone through the website for hours until he had found someone. Early 20s, no criminal record that he could find with a limited google search, good reviews that he could tell were mostly from humans friends that he had, but the man seemed nice enough. He ignored the paranoia that told him that this man was only cheap because he would lure Tommy to his death. That the moment he and Tommy met, it would be over, and he’d be just another missing and forgotten person. Another victim to a random giant where there’d be no proof of his death and nothing to-

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. This had to work. And, besides, was it really worth still living if he had to be at this house any longer? As much as he hated himself for thinking it, he’d rather let this stranger be the death of him than spend another second with his abusive shit family.

Tommy had messaged him once or twice and had paid him once already just to settle the deal. He ignored the feeling of dread in his gut every time he even thought about the giant, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. After all, this man would be holding his life in him until he got his shit together enough to at least get a job. He didn’t know how long that would be, but he needed to be practically untraceable. He couldn’t risk his family finding him. He couldn’t risk being taken back home.

He sent one final text to the man about where to meet. He knew it was late, but he had warned him in advance that he was probably gonna get a text in the middle of the night, so he slowly crept out of his window and, seeing that the coast was clear, ran, not looking back.

He would never look back.

…

Tommy had arrived at the meetup spot and had been waiting for 30 minutes and, still, no sign of the giant. Ok, now that he thought about it, maybe this did seem a little suspicious. Supposing the giant was a normal ass man, getting a text saying “meet me in an abandoned Tesco parking lot” was a weird thing to receive at 2:45 in the morning. But, again, Tommy was shooting to be untraceable. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him or his giant. Could he call this stranger “his giant?” Whatever. Tommy knew his family. He didn’t want other people to get hurt, but he couldn’t do this alone. Even if it was a stranger, he needed help.

Tommy just sat and kept thinking, thoughts spiraling into what he would do if the giant never showed up, if he actually had to do this by himself, when the ground began to shake. Tommy quickly stood up and had to strain his neck looking up to see the giant approach. And, holy shit, this fucker was tall.

Tommy had never met a giant before. Hell, almost no humans had. But from what he knew, they shouldn’t be this tall. He felt his knees begin to shake and his palms sweat as he took in the full size and image of the monster that he had hired to eat him. He had fluffy brown hair, wire rimmed glasses and a yellow sweater with a brown puffer jacket on and, weirdly enough, had a mask covering his mouth. He seemed to be hunched over, looking around for what Tommy could only assume to be him, pulling his red-brown beanie further over his head almost nervously. His eyes frantically scanned the empty lot until he found him, where he quickly made his way over as Tommy stumbled back, falling onto the ground and shaking violently from the cold and fear.

“There you are!!” the giant said, “Tommy, right? I’ve been looking all over for you! What were you thinking making this the meetup spot?!”

Tommy could barely speak. It felt like his head had been stuck in a freezer, his throat frozen and his mind muddled and cloudy, unable to form a response. “I-I..it….i- it was c- close…” he whimpered, stumbling back farther. The giant only then seemed to notice Tommy’s fear as he sighed and knelt down, trying to be more eye level as he spoke quieter. “It’s ok, kid. Fuck, you’re younger than I thought you’d be. You mean it’s close to your house, right?” Tommy nodded hesitantly and Wilbur continued. “Thought so. You probably didn’t want to haul your stuff all the way to the giant side. It’s just…i’m not technically allowed to be here.” Tommy looked up at him, confused, his breath slowing and his panic was subsiding now that the giant wasn’t towering over him and scanning the grounds for him like a fucking predator hunting it’s prey. The giant must’ve noticed his confusion, as he continued. “This isn’t a mutual territory. If i get caught here, i could get in a lot of trouble. I tried texting and calling you to tell you, given that humans don’t know a lot about the laws giants have to follow, but you weren’t responding, so i figured i’d just come and make this quick before the cops notice me.” He said. Ah, so that’s what the surgical mask was for. So the cops couldn’t recognize him. He held out a finger to Tommy, and he tried not to think about how this singular finger was taller than his whole body. “I’m Wilbur, by the way, i don’t think i ever introduced myself.” Tommy shuffled closer and grabbed the tip of the finger in an awkward attempt at a handshake. “I-I’m Tommy.”

“As nice as it is to meet you, you seem really nervous. First time?” Tommy nodded again, miraculously feeling less nervous by the second. Something about this guy, maybe his calming voice or how much more human he was than Tommy assumed he’d be, made Tommy trust him.

Or maybe it was the fact that this was the first time in a long time he had been treated with kindness. His family was barely decent to him, so this was a nice change, if an unexpected one.

“First time meeting a giant, actually.” “No offense, I can kind of tell.” Wilbur said, though there was no judgement in his voice. “Y’know, you don’t have to do this now. We could always resched-“ “No!!” Tommy shouted, interrupting the giant. “No, no, I want to, I have to, I’m out of options, please.” At that, Wilbur began to look concerned. “Tommy what do you mean ‘out of options?’ Are you ok? Do you need help?” “This is my help! Sure, maybe I’m a little bit fucking terrified, but i have nowhere else to go. I- I can’t go back, please, please, Wilby.” Tommy finished, the nickname naturally rolling off his tongue like he had known the giant his whole life. Wilbur looked at him with a vague look of concern and pity before bringing one of his giant fingers closer to Tommy’s face. Tommy didn’t even have time to react before it gently swiped across his cheek, wiping away tears he didn’t even know he had shed. “Ok, ok, i’ll help, it’s alright.” He said, giving Tommy a warm smile (he assumed; his eyes scrunched up a little near the outer edges, which seemed like a good sign he was smiling) that only slightly hid the concern still plastered on his face. And though Tommy still couldn’t see most of the aforementioned face, his eyes portrayed everything Tommy needed. Wilbur wore his heart on his sleeve; he liked that.

Tommy could have sobbed in relief as Wilbur’s words fully sunk in. He was going to get away, and the thought of finally being free was enough to drown out any more fears of what was about to happen. Wilbur then reached behind him and grabbed some of his bags, which looked ridiculously minuscule in his hand, as he brought them up to his mouth before pausing. “Do you want to go down first or do you want me to do to do these? For some people, it can be a bit nerve racking to see me swallow something first.” Tommy thought about it, then shook his head. It’s not like he wanted to see his few meager possessions disappear down the throat of a giant, especially knowing he’d have to join them, but he wasn’t gonna chicken out now. He just needed a few seconds to collect himself, and what Wilbur did with his bags in that time was none of his business.

Wilbur calmly lifted the bags back up, all of them at the same time, and slipped them under his mask. Within a few seconds, Tommy saw a vague outline slip down Wilbur’s throat, bobbing his addam’s apple a bit as they descended to where Tommy would be staying for a short while…maybe he should have gone first.

It all reminded him of a nature documentary he had seen on snakes once; he could see the outline of some poor rodent slowly trail down the snake to its final resting place.

Tommy tried not to think about that last part. After all, he’d be fine. He wasn’t prey, not to Wilbur, anyway. To his family…maybe. Not like they mattered anymore, though.

Tommy felt giddy enough at that thought that he stepped forward towards Wilbur as he watched the man press against his midsection gently, presumably to make sure Tommy’s bags had ended up in the right organ. After that confirmation, Wilbur looked back down, setting his hand palm up next to Tommy. “You ready for this, big man?” Tommy grinned at the nickname, at the way Wilbur treated him. Like a person; an equal. He grinned so hard it almost hurt. “Ready as i’ll ever be.”

Tommy felt himself be lifted and watched as Wilbur used his free hand to lift his mask just enough for Tommy to fit under and into his mouth. Tommy quickly found a perch on his lip and tried to climb in the rest of the way himself before realizing holy shit oh prime good fucking god his teeth were sharp. Wilbur made muffled cry of concern as his hand came back up under Tommy as he stumbled a bit. But, after the initial shock of the teeth being way sharper than he thought, Tommy managed to climb in the rest of the way successfully.

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182 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

the last post did so much better than expected! i’m genuinely really surprised, thanks for all the support on my short little shitty comic hsjsksl

Anyway, here’s pt. 2!!

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188 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #THE SHARK TALE AU #OH MY GOD #Also I guess I made more Dad’s Troubles AU content this year than any other au #that’s not surprising at all to me #also kinda embarrassing that the Stranger Things posts are all at the top and then my Stranger Things hyperfixation kinda just…died #sorry #i still like the show a whole lot don’t get me wrong it’s amazing #i’m just way less motivated to make stuff for that than mcyt #and don’t ask me why cause that hyperfixation lasted a month and dsmp is going on 2 years strong #also the longest tag made me a little sad but hey #it still holds true #:)#thanks for a good 2022 everyone #i’ve hit so many milestones and the fact that y’all are here is so just unbelievably amazing #thank you all so so much 💖

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trekwiz · 3 years

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Just before the winter break, I got a raise that finally brought me to a point where I don't have to stress too much about money. I joked about finally being middle class, but in my state, that's not quite true. Our housing bracket is still "good luck finding something you could afford that doesn't need to be rebuilt." We're not really there yet.

By most standards, though, I make a decent wage. But I can't help comparing it to my childhood. And it's clear just how badly this country fucked our generation.

I'm within about 10 years of the age my grandparents were when I was born. One of them had a decent government job; I make now, what he made in the early 90s. I really want to compare both the buying power in general, but also what it took to get this wage.

I'm college educated. I was in debt that fucked me over for a long time. The settlement I made came back and screwed me with taxes again, too. I started with a huge setback where it was too expensive to live. I worked too hard; at one point, I was working 4 jobs at the same time, and I still wasn't able to put a roof over my head. It was hell. I don't know how I made it through. I almost didn't. I was lucky and managed to avoid homelessness twice.

The job I did get was purely by luck. I happened to be connected to someone connected to a recruiter on LinkedIn, when they did a search for a word in my resume. Luck. And even luckier to have an amazing manager who actively made opportunities for me.

By contrast, my grandparent was uneducated. And to be clear, I don't mean this in the modern sense: he was a middle school dropout. And he was rather dim as a person in general; if you ever knew him, you'd wonder how he didn't win a Darwin award. He was also maliciously stupid; were he alive today, he'd be a Trump supporter. He wasn't likeable; he didn't grow his career from having connections. He just showed up and it was enough.

He was a firefighter--a low wage field--until towns preyed on that labor and made it volunteer-only. He moved into a county government job--again, not known to be a big wage sector--as a fire inspector.

Around my age, at this same wage, he had a very nice home. 3 bedrooms, around 2,000 square feet, and enough money saved to have a second story built with 2 more bedrooms, kitchen, living room, dining room, and two bathrooms, bringing the total over 3,000 square feet. Big front and back yard! Also, it was new construction to begin with, he was the first owner.

He had the disposable income for a timeshare near Disney. To buy a decent pool with all of the construction work involved with securing the yard and adding a deck. A new car every 5 years. Dinner out multiple times per week at the kind of restaurants I might be able to go to as a rare birthday or anniversary treat.

This wage was GREAT in the 90s. It was attainable without the advantages of an education, a professional network, decent social skills, or even much of a work ethic*. He also had some jail time that somehow didn't hold his income back. (And though he would argue the point, he wasn't white, so that wasn't his source to success, either.) Also, my grandmother worked as a secretary and had a comparable wage to my boyfriend, so this is an almost exact dollar for dollar comparison. Though in their case, she didn't pay any of the bills--not true for us.

In 2022, this wage doesn't buy that. Any of it.

We are lucky enough to own a home. It was only possible because of family discounts--having a realtor in the family shaves down a lot of the upfront costs.

We have about 650 square feet. It doesn't have enough storage, even just for clothing--literally, there are 1.5 closets. 2 very small bedrooms. Nearly no yard. It's an old house with a variety of problems related to its age. We asked around and a new construction home is about twice the cost of ours, which is already at the top of what we can afford. For comparison.

I can't even imagine fitting a timeshare into the budget, let alone the cost of a week long vacation on top of it. New car every 5 years? Impossible. Pool? Really tempted to make it work in our garage with one of those cheap liners on stilts. But in the yard, with necessary fencing, a deck, and a solid frame for the liner? Impossible. Fancy restaurants a couple times per week? No way.

The idea of a good wage today is the same number it was in the 90s, yet the overall buying power is a lot less. And it's a lot harder to get there.

*and let me tell you about work ethic. That word doesn't mean the same thing today, either! My schooling included job shadowing with companies that opted in, in addition to "Take your kid to work" days. People who are allowed to host kids for job shadowing were generally the top workers; companies weren't going to reward the slackers with extra down time.

And the pacing, universally, was just completely different than it is today. Your first hour was spent with a newspaper in hand. Can you imagine? Just relaxing for your first hour of work doing absolutely nothing productive. Just reading the newspaper, maybe having a donut and juice or coffee. Without management commenting about it? Didn't matter where I job shadowed: low wage or high wage office alike, work did not start until after the first hour.

It was also a lot easier to take breaks than it is today. Do you know how long smokers spent away from their desks throughout the day? How casually they could just walk out, whenever they wanted to?

The way we work hard today was absolutely not the norm even 30 years ago. Our productivity is much higher on a per-hour basis today, yet we're expected to work harder than the previous generation, for relatively less.

It's obscene.

I can't help but think about how much our generation has lost to weakening federal protections and an unwillingness to legislate fair wages.

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oldbutnotyetwise · 2 years

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Home

Where is your home, or perhaps I should ask what is home, or perhaps even who is home? A quick google search of the definition of Home is - the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. Does that mean if you live alone you don’t have a home?

I think back to my childhood home, unlike some of my friends the house I was brought to when first brought home from the hospital is the home that I grew up in, never moving. Unlike a childhood friend who I recall living in three different houses on our street. It was the first home my parents bought and it was home to them for over fifty years until my Mom died. This brings up another thought, even as adults we sometimes refer to going back home, meaning our parents house not the home where we live with our spouse and children.

I recall travelling through Newfoundland one summer and in some of the towns we would come to they had those cheap strings of plastic flags you might see at a Used Car Lot, strung throughout the small town. When I asked about it they told me it was for “Come Home Week” where the small towns encourage those that moved away to all come back “Home” and visit at the same time. We could add to that I find people from the Rock may live elsewhere but home is always back in their home province.

I remember my first house bought back in the early eighties for $27,000, a three bedroom 1 1/2 story home on a busy street in St. Catharines. My wife and I had lived in a few apartments, none that I would say felt much like home, but then we had our home, which was also the place that we came home to with our new born daughter. For the three of us this was now our home….until one day when I found myself living there alone, suddenly home didn’t feel like home anymore.

Eventually I married again, my new wife moving into a house that I had bought for us. It was a compromise place that allowed us to remain in the area where my daughter went to school and near both her grandparents. Literally within days of moving in my ex-wife came over and told me that she was moving out west, and it was agreed that my daughter would stay with me. About a year later we moved to a property out in the country, a great place that I put my heart and soul into. My daughter eventually grew up and moved away, and eventually I guess you could say that I grew and left too. My second ex-wife still lives in that home and I must admit I am curious about the house …. but there is too many bad memories to ever go back.

At forty-eight after buying my ex-wife out of my pension I was a financial wreck with absolutely no money, $58,000 in debt to her and living in a horrible one bedroom apartment in downtown Hamilton.

I’m not sure how long I could have survived living there. My father saved me by loaning me enough money for the down payment on a tiny two bedroom bungalow, I finally had a home again. I loved this little home even if I couldn’t afford to do much to it.

I lived there for ten years until I retired when my partner and I got to realize my dream and move north to a large property with loads of privacy and lots of wildlife. After living in the city, with the crime, the hoards of people, the pollution, the absolute lack of privacy we now live in the middle of 98 acres in an old farm house that on an almost daily basis gives us the most incredible sunrises. A home where neither of us are able to walk by a window without stopping to look out to see what animal may be wandering through our yard. With kilometres of hiking trails that I maintain we are living somewhere that is as close to heaven as a heathen like myself ever expects to get. It is hard not to go for a walk around the property and not feel so very fortunate, like you are one with nature.

Now for reasons far beyond our control we may have to leave this place and reluctantly return to the city. It will be so very hard to leave when the time comes and I guess that I could be bitter that we didn’t get to stay longer…….. or perhaps I shall instead be grateful that we got to live in this magical place for as long as we did.

But wait, is home where we are living or is it where my partner is, or where we are together? If you are fortunate enough to have someone in your life maybe wherever you are with her is where your home is. Home being less about a location and more about just being with the one you love, and the one who loves you back. As we move forward I suspect my home will be wherever my partner and I find ourselves living. So maybe the old cliche is right, Home is Where the Heart Is.

Where, or who, do you call home?

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in-tua-deep · 3 years

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Hufflepuff Five is so good! Are the Hargreeves lives as students as adventurous like the main crew from HP? What about the Ministry of Magic? Would they get involved if someone caught wind of the sibling’s powers that weren’t just magic?

Their lives are SO wack honestly like, they just vibe. They just are going through their magical youth being absolute feral children who don’t trust adults as far as they can throw them while trying to hide their weird funky powers and also ravenously going through magical feats like they’re going out of style

Luther is every sibling’s go-to practice partner because apparently durability extends to being like? Slightly magic resistant? Basically if you hit Luther with a spell it will only be like, maybe half power? So the siblings use him as a magical shield half the time and an experiment the other half and Luther just Suffers Through This until it all goes wrong and he ends up as a werewolf, oops

(But at least Ben is alive! Honestly the only reason Luther wasn’t straight up mauled to death was a combo of his durability, Ben’s proficiency in healing magic, and Ben managing to befriend the acromantulas)

(Luther eventually gets a sense of humor about this after long years of working on accepting himself and constantly threatens to bite his siblings or makes comments about them looking extra tasty when they irritate him)

Allison is a quidditch star, super popular and athletic as all hell. She probably ends up being the Slytherin team captain, honestly. Allison is all glamor and charisma and in her later years of hogwarts has an absolute blast. Allison is very much functional passing so she’s usually the front man to get the professors off their backs, but she also is the front man for a lot of the shit that the family sell for extra spending money. Five and Ben might make potions, but Allison rules the underground black market in slytherin with an iron fist (which gets them into shenanigans involving other kids who Owe Debts)

Diego is on the gryffindor quidditch team and so him and Allison are constantly at each other’s throats on the pitch (Allison sometimes rumors him during matches when she gets within earshot which makes all of the siblings yell at him but she maintains that he gets to use his stupid powers to score points so she should get to as well). Diego gets roped into everything because he’s super soft. He starts a lot of fights because he has vigilante genes so he serves a lot of detentions. His house tolerates him losing them points because the man is a wizard with a quaffle

(Diego and Allison actually practice a lot together, which their respective teams are like HMMMM over but they’re siblings and slytherin knows that Allison would never hesitate to knock Diego off his broom and wave cheerily as he falls to his death, and gryffindor is aware that Diego can, should, and must throw a ball directly at Allison’s dumb face if she gets too close to him because of the Cain Instinct)

(Honestly Allison and Diego do a LOT for interhouse unity, showing that you can still be ride or die for each other while also wanting greatly to kill each other uwu)

Ben is too independent for his own good, which is what gets him into trouble. He likes gardening, and he likes herbs, and sometimes he’s just GOTTA go into the forbidden forest on a full moon to gather these very specific ingredients, c’mon. He also just. Likes spending time in the forbidden forest. He’s Hagrid’s favorite student because he doesn’t bat an eye at all the weird magical creatures, bc homeboy got an eldritch horror in his navel. Ben makes friends with the acromantulas (who have a healthy respect for him after the Horror ate a few of them), patiently avoids the centaurs, and bribes the pixies into giving him their shed wings through liberal application of jam stolen from the Hogwarts kitchens.

You know what Allison is functional passing and Ben is distinguished passing, all their teachers assume that Ben is the most put together of them but they’re WRONG. They haven’t seen Ben at two in the morning yanking Vanya out of ben because if they don’t break into greenhouse four and help those poor fucking plants the first years are tending to they’re all going to DIE and that’s not fair??? ben is single handedly going to save all those poor plants (and all those first year’s grades)

Vanya is just VIBING, he ends up coming out as trans in fourth year and gets to be roommates with Ben which is pretty sweet. If only Ben didn’t drag him into shenanigans?? All the teachers are like “ah yes Vanya, such a quiet boy not like his siblings at all” but Vanya can will should and must climb onto the roof of the astronomy tower to play his violin because He Just Likes To Be Tall. Vanya once punched a snobby ravenclaw kid in the nose and then stared them down saying “the teachers will never believe you.”

Vanya steals Luther to practice his powers with in unused classrooms the most?? he’s durable. he’ll be fine if Vanya blasts him into a wall with his powers lol

Vanya’s solution to all their problems is “do you want me to blow it up with my powers?” or “do you want me to kill them for you?”

(All of the siblings now refuse to duel with Vanya except for Luther bc Vanya is RUTHLESS. He WILL murder his siblings (almost) given the chance. They’re all so lucky that Ben is so good at healing and carries extra vials of healing potions on his person otherwise Madame Pomfrey would be VERY CONCERNED)

Five and Klaus probably get into the most shenanigans? Klaus gets less and less afraid of ghosts the more he runs into nice ones like Fred Weasley. Fred also lovingly nurtures Klaus’s absolutely terrible sense of humor and encourages him to prank the whole school. Klaus knows ALL the secret passageways thanks to Fred, a previous owner of the Maurauder’s map, so he’s just like. Constantly in the walls. He once dropped out of the ceiling to get to transfiguration in time and nobody even commented on it because Klaus is just Like That.

(A few people see Klaus’s boney elbows and knobbley knees and thinks he’s a good target for bullying just because he’s a slytherin and interhouse awfulness absolutely it at an all time high so recently after the war. YEAH his siblings step in and put the fear of god into any bullies, but Klaus fights like a cornered raccoon.)

Five is just way too smart and curious for his own good. He likes to poke around, figure things out, and also make money. Five does people’s homework, charges them for potions or rune work, tutors, dismantles shit in the chamber of secrets, ALSO explores the secret passageways (and finds some that weren’t on the map), is lovingly bullied into Friendship Activities with his housemates, breaks into the other houses’s common rooms for funsies, and keeps getting fed by the house elves who found out he can ‘apparate’ like them (without a wand) and have apparently adopted him against his will

Five is the sibling who has his fingers in like. ALL the pies. and just constantly pops up and drags them into things. Five will be helping Klaus with potions homework then glance up and tell Diego he’s cashing in the favor he’s owed for carving runes into Diego’s knives and that Diego now gets to break into Douglas Eddington’s room to steal back Lana Delwich’s diary so that Five can trade it to Lana for her rare Solomon Babik chocolate frog card which Five can give to Barnaby Beeson in exchange for a Large Distraction of Five’s Choice and a sketchy book on ward breaking which Five needs so he can break into the headmaster’s office to get a confiscated dark magic book that has some information Five needs to alter a potion that he’s probably going to make Luther drink later

Five is the sibling who is like “Ugh, I thought I was trading for some nundu ingredients but now i have a Whole Baby Nundu in the basement :/”

Which, of course, Klaus wants to keep despite the poison breath.

“This is literally one of the most dangerous magical creatures, we are not keeping it.” Luther says, unimpressed. However, he definitely has it cradled in his arms and makes kissy faces at it when he thinks no one is looking. (Apparently baby toxic nundu breath only makes Luther sneeze, so there’s that?)

“If you guys are arrested for smuggling I am not bailing you out.” Is Allison’s only decree about the matter.

Honestly I wouldn’t be shocked if someone DID eventually find out about one of the siblings’ powers - however, they would come to entirely the wrong conclusion about them?? Because this is a world of MAGIC and so everything magical has to have a magical explanation, right???

Luther is durable as all fuck???? Uhhhhh maybe he has some like. Troll blood or giant blood something back in his family line, obviously not something he would ever want the world to know about bc of species-ism

Allison can make you do whatever you want with her words????? Maybe she’s part veela? With that charm appeal?

Five is doing. Wandless apparation?? I mean, that’s rare as FUCK but wandless magic is,,, grudgingly accepted though it’s usually only used for small or very familiar spells and not usually something as complex as apparation but OKAY just sit him down and forbid him from doing it anymore bc boy boutta be SPLICED or some shit

Klaus can. Klaus can talk to ghosts. Who are not full ghosts. Hmm. huh. Maybe it’s?? A family ability??? a super rare one? like being a metamorphagus? (What the fuck??????? what the FUCK???????)

Primarily the kids started off paranoid because they believed that their abilities indicated that they weren’t the same type of magic, and they didn’t want to be returned to their father, and then it progressed into “these abilities might make people scared of us (looking at you allison, with your imperius-ass abilites)” or “we can’t afford that kind of scrutiny or curiosity about our powers (they might find out luther is a werewolf or something idk)” and “if we are ‘desirable’ children with ‘rare abilities’ the government might try to split us up and adopt us into weird pureblood families or something OR might try to lock us up (like where would they even put Ben??)”

honestly if ben ever got found out he’d just deadpan “it’s a curse, hand me the black wormroot would you?” and be like “oh yeah it’s under control i just go vibe in the woods every so often and rip up a tree or something. I think the horror wants to be the whomping willow when it grows up actually, so just don’t get too close when i’m in the horror zone. if you can live with a murder tree on campus you can live with me on campus”

someone sees vanya fuck something up with his powers and is like ???? and Vanya is just like “accidental magic lol”

“aren’t you... a bit... old for accidental magic...”

“accidental. magic.”

#hogwarts au #they get into so many shenanigans op you have no idea #honestly they probably get a lot looser with publically using their powers #except for allison #she keeps a lock on that shit bc it's an azkaban sentence for using imperius babie #also yes vanya is trans in the hogwarts au now sorry i don't make the rules #congrats elliot page for coming out #i'll probably vary between my aus what is going on with vanya but hogwarts au vanya is trans #he shares a room with ben and gets dragged along to help ben break into greenhouses #five has put himself in charge of getting funds for their futures #because they might survive on the hogwarts orphan fund right now but what about AFTER diego #allison is going to become a famous quidditch player so she doesn't care #but the REST of them???#allison is a jock and you can pry that from my cold dead hands #they have less 'take down the government' school shenanigans #more 'magical school that can kill you' type things #and also whatever shady shit five has gotten into #the slytherins have given up keeping five out of their common room #someone: what have you got there?#ben with the horror out gesturing with a tentacle: a smoothie #luther about being a werewolf: i'm a MONSTER #five: and WHERE was this attitude when you ate my last jar of marshmallow fluff?#the siblings are all just. immune to bullshit now honestly #long post #far tua long #Anonymous

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astralaffairs · 4 years

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concept: first lady mc reads of fotp!tjeff’s speeches and edits them for all the things she thinks are stupid or unethical. and he’s like “sweetheart, my party isn’t ready for universal healthcare. i can’t be pissing people off within the first month of my presidency.” but she couldn’t give a fuck and continues marking up his speeches with a red pen all while insisting he gets a new speech writer.

y'all need 2 STOP hitting me w concepts i like this much i have 0 self control and WILL write every damn one of them. there are like 4 sitting in my inbox rn smh.

(by which i mean pls keep sending me concepts like this i love writing fotp drabbles)

---

"What're you still doin' up?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up as she looked up; a small, tired smile graced her lips as Thomas entered their bedroom, shaking his blazer off as the door fell shut behind him. "Hey. I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I've just been tying up a few final loose ends with what I've been working on before I go to sleep."

"Can it wait until the morning?" he asked. He laid his blazer on the back of a chair at the side of the room before immediately starting to loosen his tie. "It's gettin' late. And I miss spendin' time with you. You work too much."

She scoffed, but her smile was only growing at his words. "Did you, the President of the United States, just tell me that I work too much?" He rolled his eyes as she spoke, just discarding his tie on the floor beside their bed. "That really is rich coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want," he said, crossing the room to join her on their couch, "but you always overwork yourself, and you know it. You've been doin' it for as long as I've known you."

"Alright, I'll come to bed in a few minutes." He took a seat behind her, and when he rested his hand on her inner thigh, it sent shivers rippling across her skin. She looked up. "You go get some sleep. I'll finish this quickly. I promise."

"What're you workin' on, anyway?" She didn't protest when he withdrew the paper from her lap, glancing over it, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "Is this the address I'm givin' on Friday?"

"The very same."

"You shouldn't be losin' sleep over this," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head back toward her as he squeezed the top of her thigh lightly. "Either lose sleep spendin' time with your dear, sweet husband who's fucking sick of thinkin' about legislation, or just come to bed, hm?"

He passed her back the paper, instead looping an arm around her waist as he kicked his legs up onto their coffee table, and when he pulled her in to rest against his shoulder, she put up no protest.

"Just five more minutes. I promise." The barely-concealed yawn in her voice made Thomas look down at her skeptically.

"Alright, but I'm holdin' you to that. If you're still working in five minutes, I'll carry you to bed myself."

"No complaints here." She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth gently before she turned back to her paper, fidgeting with her red pen as she reached the last page of the document. Thomas's eyes had fallen shut; he was more than content to just sit there with her until she finished, as he had no desire whatsoever to think anymore about pushing his healthcare bill through Congress.

He opened his eyes when Y/N scoffed. Her pen ran down the page in a long slash, and she was pursing her lips as she jotted notes in the margins, but it made Thomas furrow his brow.

"Hey, now, what was so wrong with that paragraph?"

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing back at him. "You keep treating healthcare like it's some privilege that poor people should have to grovel at the feet of the rich to have access to. It can't be conditional like this."

"I'm not actin' like that," he defended. "I'm just sayin', hiking up taxes threefold isn't a sustainable way to fund this. It'd be an overreach from Congress. We've gotta use money efficiently."

"You fucking libertarian," she muttered. "The part of the bill about work requirements is gonna get killed in Congress. There's no way the House Democrats will vote to pass it unless you get rid of that."

"What's that got to do with my speech?"

"You're misrepresenting the legislation if you keep that paragraph," she said, proceeding to scribble out a sentence in the paragraph after. "And get rid of this. If you're trying to implement a public option, focusing on the private sector will get you nowhere. You're just gonna make people angry."

"I'm not 'misrepresenting' anything." He scowled. "Both those things are important for the bill."

"But this isn't a bill, Thomas; it's a speech," she huffed. "Anyway, the legislation needs to be universalized, or you can't 'mitigate poverty' how you claim to. Do you have any idea how many of the people who can't meet the work requirements on healthcare are going to end up in poverty because they can't afford the care they need?"

"I hear you," he started, "but this is the best way to make it more affordable without tankin' the economy."

"Have you even considered capital gains taxes?"

"That's gonna kill entrepreneurship."

"You're so full of it sometimes," Y/N scoffed. "'Entrepreneurs' won't be affected. It only affects, like, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, and they have so many assets that it literally doesn't matter."

"I'm not gonna sit here and argue with you about this. I'm not sayin' you're wrong, but I am sayin' this bill needs to be somethin' I can convince the Senate to pass," he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Then write a new bill that doesn't mean the people who are the worst off don't get coverage," she said, jotting that down on the side of the paper, "because this doesn't resolve the issue."

"I'll bring it up when I get the chance," he assured her, and she glanced back at him with a grateful smile. "Can I ask why this is so important to you?"

"Because I'm an empathetic person, and I care about people?" she replied, tone scathing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Woah, there. That wasn't an attack, sweetheart," he said. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not 'worked up,'” she bit back, but when he gave her an apologetic look, gaze soft, her annoyance began to subside. “This is just a sore subject for me." Y/N finally lowered the paper in her lap, turning her head toward Thomas. "I know I've told you about how long my parents spent in the hospital before they passed."

"Yeah. Yeah, you have," he said softly. He turned, orienting himself in Y/N's direction so he could pull her into his lap, and while she sighed, she laid back against his chest.

"When they died, I was left with most of their healthcare debt," she continued. "I was living far below the poverty line for almost a decade because of it."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she laced her fingers into his with his arms around her waist.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "I just don't want anyone else to end up in anything like the situation I was in. Nobody deserves that."

"No, they don't. I'll see what I can get past Congress." He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed contentedly, squeezing his hands. "But I've still gotta discuss my plan for healthcare on Friday, so stop demolishing my speech."

"You asked me to look over it," she said frankly, and though her eyes had fallen shut when she laid against him, she cracked one open to glance at him skeptically. "These are my edits. Change the bill."

"That's an awful weighty edit, sweetheart."

"Hey, I also improved your phrasing," she went on, holding his paper up where they could both see it. "I'm making your speech better, don't complain about it."

"You cut my section about deductibles?"

"No one wants to talk about deductibles, babe." She tapped the paper with the back of her pen. "They want to know whether they'll be insured or not. They won't listen to the nuances of your bill in your public address. You're going to need a press release for that."

"And the part about family values?"

"It was useless." She shrugged. "I know you're just pandering to your party and all, but it sounded stupid in the context of the speech."

"Harsh," Thomas said, and the offense in his voice was mostly dramatized. Y/N pursed her lips. "But I can't be breachin' party lines in this speech. I'm not gonna get anything done if I turn the Senate Republicans against me."

"Listen, I'm not a political strategist, so that's your prerogative," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you don't like my feedback on your speeches, then hire a damn speechwriter, Thomas."

He hummed reluctantly. "But havin' you review my speeches gives me an excuse to spend more time with you. I don't have a whole lotta interest in having even longer meetings with White House staffers."

"Then take my edits to heart." She pursed her lips. "You know very well that I'm the only reason you have bipartisan support. If I didn't pick fights with you once a week about green energy, all the Democrats would still oppose all your stances on it."

"I'll look back over the speech in the mornin', then," he decided, and she shifted on the couch to face him, legs still draped over his lap. "I trust you."

"Good," she replied, and she looped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. "But stop exploiting my degree in journalism."

"I'm not exploitin' it."

"Then what do you consider asking your wife to edit your speeches pro-bono to be?"

"A nice li'l side effect of managin' to convince someone so smart to marry me." She laughed as he pulled her back in to kiss him, but she gasped when he bit her lip teasingly, and his mouth drifted down her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too."

With that, Thomas hooked his arm up under her legs, and his smile widened against her neck when she yelped as he picked her up. "Now, I seem to remember sayin' something about carryin' you to bed if you were workin' for more than five minutes, so you don't get to negotiate anymore."

She squirmed in his grasp, but any of her efforts to get out of his arms weren't in earnest. She huffed. "So much for respecting personal liberty. Just wait until your voting bloc finds out all that rhetoric was just a lie."

"Oh, hush, let's not pretend you mind," he said as he tossed her down onto their bed, and she bounced when her back hit the mattress. He didn't hesitate to climb on after her. Though she tried to pull herself up to rest on the throw pillows, Thomas was on his hands and knees above her; she didn't have much of a range of movement when he dipped down to kiss her. "If you did, you wouldn't have married me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jefferson," she grumbled, despite wrapping her arms around his neck. "Talk all you want, but I dunno how smug you're gonna be when I up and leave you one of these days."

He grinned. "You know I don't buy that for a second." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward when he kissed her forehead. "You love me too much."

Despite everything, Y/N could feel herself flush. "Just go put on some pajamas so we can go to sleep."

"Alright, if you insist," he huffed, rolling off of her. "Be right back."

"You'd better hurry, or I might run off with Dolley and elope," she called after him, and Thomas laughed.

"'S cute, but we both know you aren't goin' anywhere."

"And why not?"

He raised a confident brow. "I'll tie you down if that's what it takes to keep you here, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she mumbled, turning to discard the throw pillows from the bed onto the floor.

When she looked back at him, his grin was still wide, smug, but the look in his eyes was soft. She pursed her lips as her own smile broadened. "Now go change. I'm not going to sleep without you."

"Fine. You need some rest.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

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stitch-n-time · 4 years

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Can you explain how the US housing laws work? You have me interested

Short answer: they don’t.

Longer answer (because I have to work tonight and truly don’t have like 8 hours to write the thesis, because you bet your ass I could):

There is actually an internal structure that the low income housing system has been built around that makes it nearly impossible to navigate, difficult to get into, and specifically works against the people that it was supposedly built to help.

I’m actually not quite sure where to start with this, so it’s going to be all over the place and bouncing back and forth, but that’s also kind of on brand for the low income housing system.

The system as we know it is very much a post WWII thing, so the info here will be from after that point. A lot of this will be in kind of broad, sweeping terms. But since the US is like 60 different states in a trenchcoat trying to sneak into an R-rated movie, very little of it actually covers the entirety of the country. There are also state and city levels of bullshit that people have to wade through. Most people don’t make it.

I’m going to use my own experiences as an example. But know that my experiences are NOT typical. When I started down this rabbit hole, I was a 30-ish year old white woman, a part time student, presented as a professional female on a daily basis, had a fairly stable income from a job I had held for years, and a vehicle (though making payments). All of this put together meant I had it pretty easy.

Some of that caused problems, though. The vehicle was a problem. It was a newer model gently used vehicle. According to the dealership, the previous owner had traded it in because it was a manual transmission and they wanted an automatic. When I bought it, it had less than 60k miles on it and was in excellent condition. In the eyes of the people who approve the paperwork and rubber stamp applicants for low income housing, I could get rid of that vehicle, and the moneys spent on the payments and insurance could go toward housing. Which would be reasonable, except most of the US doesn’t have public transportation at all. What public transport does exist is sketchy, rarely runs on schedule, and often does not go into residential areas. I COULD have gotten rid of the car, but that would have meant a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4 hours on a bus to get to class and 5 hours on the return trip twice a week, then a 2 mile hike home OR a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4.5 hours on a bus, another 2 mile hike to get to work, and the same on the return. At that point, I would have been spending more time on the bus than either at work or school, and might as well just live on the damned thing, since all I would have time to do at home is shower and MAYBE eat a sandwich?

But that’s also typical. Part of the laws as they are written specifically state that a person or household can not own physical properties that are over a certain value, because those properties could be sold in order to elevate the person/family’s lifestyle. That also makes household absolutely reliant on public transportation, which is simply not available in many poor areas.

Which goes into redlining, and systemic racism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

The fact that I was a student also worked against me. If a person can afford to go to school, they can afford housing. So why would you want/need help from the government? I’m just thankful that I was a part time student when the need for low income housing arose… If you’re a full time student, you are automatically denied on any application for low income housing. There are different legal designations for “low income housing” and “student housing”. They can not exist in the same housing complex for legal reasons. So if I had been taking one more class that semester, I would have been denied, and would have been homeless.

That in itself doesn’t sound terrible. And there’s reasons for the legal differences. But think about it… What if I had been in the last semester of school and something had happened? What about the people who are both enrolled in school and are working, trying to make ends meet, trying to be able to do something better, and either their lease is up or they get evicted or… I don’t know… their house burns down or a tornado hits or suddenly medical bills? If a person fills out that paperwork while still a student, even if they say “I’m graduating next month and want to move in the month after that” they still count as a full time student and would get denied. Which means leaving school and being spit out into the post graduate world probably without a job, while being denied help with keeping a roof over their head, when it’s absolutely necessary to have a physical address while searching for a job.

Which goes into the anti-homeless way of thinking, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

I’m going to lump the “fairly stable income from a job I had held for years” and “presented as a professional female on a daily basis” into one, because they are directly related. I had worked my way through a trade school, and had been working in the medical field for nearly 4 years. The practice was open 4 days a week. I was there 2 days, the male counterpoint was there the other 2 days. If a client preferred one of us over the other, either they scheduled appropriately, or the doctor asked us to come in for that client’s appointment time. Because a large portion of the clientele were middle aged and older, as well as conservative, the dress code reflected accordingly. Since I actually REALLY liked the job, and the doctor and his family were pretty awesome people, I dressed and styled accordingly, on a daily basis. But because the number of hours on the clock varied with the number of clients scheduled for therapy appointments, there were times when those paychecks got mighty thin. There were absolutely trends of busy seasons and light seasons. Sometimes during that light season there were days when I would go to work for a couple of hours, go home until about 3PM, then go back for 2 or 3 hours. It was hard to pin that down.

Having to explain that I could not pinpoint an amount of annual income with any accuracy while filling out the application worked against me. And just about anybody who works in retail, food service, etc. - all the jobs that people with low incomes tend to have – will tell you that they suffer the same thing. Go into work, put in a couple of hours, and have the manager come tell you to go home because it’s not busy enough to justify having people on the clock. But without having an accurate estimation of annual income (that could be verified by their calling your employer) means that the application is denied. The general consensus is that if you can’t pinpoint your annual income, then you’re lieing on the application, which means you’re untrustworthy, and therefore don’t deserve to get the help you need to keep a roof over your head.

That conservative professional look helped me here, though. I went into the office dressed well, in khakis and a nice blouse, to fill out the application and speak to the people. While I was there, another lady came in to fill out an application. This is somebody who I happened to know personally. She was also a professional, who was arguably in a slightly better place than I was because her income did not fluctuate (though it was low, as she was recovering from a divorce and most of the family income had come from her ex husband), but she was “dressed down” in shorts and a t shirt. We made the same arguments. I ended up in an apartment, and she did not.

Honestly, I was actually lucky to get into an apartment. A lot of people don’t realize it, but even with things being classified as low income housing, it takes a LOT of money to get into places. Just like every other rental in the US, before you move in, you have to pay the first month’s rent. And a deposit. And if you have pets, another deposit. And the cost of having the electricity and water turned on. And depending on the specific details of the contract you have to sign, possibly trash pickup. And if you want internet, either you pay for that and get a modem through the ISP, or you pay extra on signing the lease. And if you want to do your laundry in your home (if there’s even a hookup), there’s an extra rental fee for a washer and dryer, unless you bring your own.

I got lucky. When I applied and was approved, this particular housing development was running a “special” - if you sign a lease, you get one month rent free to use within 12 months of signing. I had to use it immediately. With all the extra fees and everything else, I could either pay for the rent OR the deposit, but not both – so I paid the deposit and laughingly told them I’d like to use that free month on the first month, immediately, right now, please and thank you, now where’s my key? They almost turned me away at that point.

I honestly believe that if it hadn’t been for my professional clothing and the fact that I could point to a couple of scabs on my face, that I would have been denied at that point. (The scabs were from a dog. I had been renting a room from a “friend” who is no longer a friend. Her dog bit my face, and instead of punishing the dog, she decided I needed to move out that weekend. Note: this is literally the ONLY time I’ve had a dog bite me, despite having been around them most of my life, and this particular dog had snapped at multiple people before.)

Which goes into classism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now the thing that has been on my last nerve for a few years now is a good one. The laws state that if your household changes in any way, you have to fill out the application again. Doesn’t matter if you literally got approved the day before: you fill it out again. Because there have been household changes. It doesn’t sound terrible at all, but I know somebody who got evicted from low income housing and ended up homeless because his wife left. Suddenly the household size was smaller, but had the same income, and it was over the limit for the household size. Sorry not sorry you have to go. I know somebody who was evicted for “falsified paperwork” because she had a baby and was in the hospital for 2 weeks, so didn’t get the paperwork in on time. They ended up in a homeless shelter (in this city, homeless shelters are more expensive than a lot of low income housing). Now she’s in debt that she’ll probably never get out of, due to that.

What’s more is that the eligibility requirements to be able to pass those income thresholds change constantly. Out of curiosity, I tracked the changes over the course of a year. Just checking on the first of the month. In a single year, the income requirements changed 10 times. It’s not easy to keep track of, and there’s not much reason to track it unless it’s literally part of your job, in order to keep in compliance with the laws.

My own personal gripe is much less severe than that. I can’t get married. Technically, my fiance can’t live with me. On paper, he lives with his parents, miles away. But he spends most of his time in my apartment, which is under my name only, because I’m disabled (but ineligible for disability) and need his help. We’ve been together for a decade. We’ve been engaged for over 5 years. But if we get married, then the household changes, and we have to fill out the paperwork and get approved again. The thing is: if we put together our incomes into one “household” income, we would never be eligible for low income housing. Which means we would have to move out.

Moving out comes with it’s own difficulties. Because of the paperwork you have to sign to lease low income housing – and depending on where you are because 60 states in a trenchcoat – there are hoops to jump through. The lease in this particular development, you get a choice. If you break the lease you either a) pay the full amount of rent on the apartment through the end of the lease term or b) pay two months’ rent on the apartment after termination of the lease. So not only would we have to find other housing that we could afford (with all of the move in fees, deposits, transfer of service fees for utilities, bla bla bla), we would also have to pay 2 months’ rent on top of everything else. Which means either borrowing literally thousands of dollars from an individual – banks won’t do loans for this – or having to decide which bills get paid and which don’t while surviving off of ramen noodles for months at a time. Which… uh… would not work well with the man-thing’s diabetes.

Which all goes into respectability politics, and deciding whether or not poor people deserve to have stability and emotional fulfillment, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now this may sound like a whole lot of personal whining. And it kind of is. But I can’t speak for anybody else. This is my personal interactions with these people and with the laws behind their behavior. But it’s the laws themselves that are written to be exclusive of the people that need help the most.

Homeless people can not apply, because they don’t have a current address.

Unemployed people can not apply, because they don’t have an income.

Full time students can not apply, because of the legal definitions of the different types of housing.

People with “disposable” property (such as cars) are often denied because they could turn those assets into monies.

People who rely on that “disposable” property for work are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People of color who have been relegated to specific neighborhoods where public transportation is not available due to the redlining of the last century are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People who do not have thousands of dollars readily available are denied because they can not pay both the deposit and rent.

People who face employment discrimination (even though it’s illegal) are denied because they can not provide proof of steady income.

People who have bounced from employer to employer are often denied for the same reason.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to change anything about their household.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to get out of it if their situation improves.

All of it is written into the laws surrounding the housing itself.

So…. Yeah. It doesn’t work. But if you want me to actually get into the nitty gritty, I can start actually researching. But somebody’s gotta pay me for it.

#long post is long #hey nonny nonny #what was that?

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tobesobri · 4 years

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𝒯hank you for all the love on the first chapter, that was honestly the last thing I expected, and it really does mean the world to me that you guys like this story. I’m going to include the taglist at the end, but if you’d like to be added for future updates, go here and put in your tumblr URL. Okay, anyways, this chapter is very like,,, rocky and emotional so! Have fun reading :)

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

Chapter Two: Do It One More Time (3.8k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

Sneaking Harry out had been the least of her worries. Him being on her mind constantly was a much bigger cause for concern. She had trouble sleeping at night, tossing and turning and even having to wash her entire bedspread to get rid of his scent. It had been no use, however. It was like her body got a taste of something very potent and wanted it now more than ever before.

And it didn’t take long for her to get back into her routine. To soil the pillowcases in her tears because the emptiness inside her chest had only grown tenfold after what had happened with Harry. Her muscles literally ached and her sobs almost sent her to the bathroom to hurl up an empty stomach full of knots.

Her brain had finally gotten a reprieve from its loneliness. She finally felt what it was like to have someone, even if it wasn’t real. Even if it was a mistake and even if it was fleeting. Harry had filled whatever missing parts were within her and it hurt like hell to go back to normal again.

But she wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t sleep anymore either. His house felt massive and the silence between all the walls seemed to ring just a little bit louder. He found himself buying an unnecessary amount of pillows and setting them all up on his bed just to surround himself with something. He’d been here before though. After a breakup, his least favorite part was going back to sleeping alone. He hated not having someone to hold onto. It took him weeks to get used to it last time, and to get used to the cold spots on the other side of the bed. It only took four and a half hours with Y/N to fuck him all up again.

And he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he was desperate.

“Hello?” Even her voice was a breath of fresh air for him.

“Hey, it’s uh… Harry.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you had my number.”

“Will gave it to me a while ago… for emergencies.”

Y/N took a long pause, unsure why Harry was calling her on a Thursday afternoon, completely at random. It had been almost an entire week since their… incident. Why was he calling her right now?

“So… is this an emergency?”

“Um… well, no. It isn’t.”

“So why are you calling then?”

“I was wondering um… you can say no but um… I was wondering if you wanted to… sleep with me again.” He cringed at his last few words and the way they felt like knives cutting his throat to get out. He had no better way to phrase what he wanted other than being blunt about it and admitting he wanted her up against him. He wanted more than just lifeless pillows to cuddle up to at night.

And something about Y/N had him losing his fucking mind the past week so asking her to sleep with him seemed low on his list of crazy.

“Sorry?”

“I mean… like we did last week. I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight, just to sleep?”

“Why?” She asked, unsure why Harry fucking Styles was asking her that. Sure, they were somewhat friendly and she had thoughts about asking him the same exact thing, but it was an odd request coming from him. She was sure if he needed a cuddle buddy that he could easily find anyone else.

But even the thought of him being like that with someone else gave her a horribly sick feeling in her stomach that she recognized immediately but could not for the life of her explain. She didn’t get jealous, ever.

He cleared his throat, “Um well… I have had a pretty hard time sleeping and then last Friday it was like… like the best sleep of my life. And this past week has been awful again. So I was just… we don’t have to if you don’t want to though. It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have even called…”

“No.” She cut his spiraling off abruptly. “I mean… yes. I… can do that.”

He immediately let out a huge breath of air in relief but also couldn’t believe she had, yet again, agreed to another one of his stupid ideas. “I just want to let you know I’m not trying to like… get in your pants or anything. I genuinely just…” He stopped then, knowing a more believable story would be him wanting to get into her pants than what was actually going on with him.

“Just what?”

“I just need someone.” He admitted with his eyes closed tight as he laid back onto his couch. “And it’s not very easy asking people to just sleep with you.”

She let another moment of silence go by that just about tore him up. And right when he was about to ask if she was still there, he heard her voice again, as softly as ever.

“What time should I come over then?”

Harry’s house wasn’t easy to access. First, there was the entrance gate to just get into the neighborhood, which had an intimidatingly large security guard posted out front like an oversized bridge troll. Then she had to hand over her driver’s license and try to convince him she was there to see Harry, and that her name was supposed to be on his list of accepted guests. The whole thing wouldn’t seem so unbelievable to her if she wasn’t already trapped in a pit of nerves from being there in the first place.

By some miracle, however, the guard returned her ID along with a visitor’s pass and opened the gates for her.

Then, of course, there was finding his house, which turned out to be a whole other task and a half on its own. Every house was so far from the main road due to oversized front lawns that she couldn’t read anyone’s house number unless she practically trespassed. He’d given her very vague instructions so she mostly had to rely on Google Maps. Which somehow got her to the house at the end of Spruce Street with the enormous pine tall trees and rose bushes surrounding it just like Harry had described.

She pulled into the short gap of driveway just before the tall, wooden privacy gates that hid most of his house from view. After rolling down her driver’s side window, she inputted the four-digit code he’d given her onto the pinpad. Within a few seconds the gates opened, and after a moment to ogle at his insanely beautiful house, she swallowed the pit in her throat and carefully drove onto his property as if it was made out of glass. She really did not belong there, not in her beat up 2005 Toyota, and she couldn’t afford to break anything.

The moon was already prominent in the middle of the sky by the time she got to his front door and rang the bell. His house wasn’t at all what she expected. It was old-looking. Almost cottage-like with stone bricks and vines trickling down the architecture. She expected the most modern amenities known to man from him, but it turned out to be the polar opposite.

She stopped staring at his garden fortress of a house, with her jaw hung wide, when his door swung open. Because finally he was there, right in front of her, giving her proof that she didn’t accidentally show up at the wrong address, even though the code had worked and the house was as he described. Her anxiety was just a little extra prominent than normal.

“This is where you live?” She asked, before he even got the chance to invite her in.

He laughed, holding the door in one hand and gripping the frame with the other to keep his balance as he stood in the middle.

“Um,” he sighed, glancing up at the house, “yeah, but I’m trying to sell it soon. I bought it when I was young and impulsive.”

“Oh.” Was all she said, and he worried for a moment that he had completely lost her. That she was going to go back to never speaking a single word to him ever again. That he wasn’t anything like what she expected and it was a little too much for her to take in.

Just like most of his previous attempts at friendships, once they got even the tiniest glimpse into his life, they either bolted or stuck around long enough to get what they wanted from him.

Instead, she met his eyes again and smiled, “Can I come in or what?”

The inside of his house, however, had been recently modernized and she wondered if Harry had made all the design decisions himself. Like if he picked out the big geometric crystal chandelier in the foyer or the white marble countertops in the kitchen. She liked it, though, it was open with tall ceilings and unlike any home she’d ever stepped foot in. Even though it reminded her what vastly different worlds she and Harry came from, she knew his personality didn’t match up to his big fancy house.

When they settled into the kitchen, and when Harry began pouring two glasses of water for them, she set her things down on his island counter to give her shoulders a break from her heavy backpack. She knew she’d packed too much stuff, but if she was spending the night at Harry’s place, she needed her own familiar things to keep her company.

“I was thinking…” she started, watching as he kicked the refrigerator door shut once he’d put the filtered water pitcher back on the top shelf and handed her one of the glasses. “That maybe it’s a good idea to not tell Will… or... anyone about this.”

He thought it over for a moment and then nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay.” Averting his eyes, his mind thought of a million different things at once while he sipped on his own glass of water until another tangible question popped into his head. “So if we’re not telling them, then where do they think you are right now?”

“At a coworker’s place.”

He nodded again and for the first time around Harry, she felt so incredibly nervous. He’d made her nervous before but not like this. She’d always just avoided him and it worked her anxieties out, but there was absolutely no chance of avoiding him now. Maybe she should have just said no, but that also seemed like an implausible choice.

“Is it alright if I like… get ready for bed? I just got off work.”

He let out a small giggle around the brim of his glass and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll show you my room.”

And his bedroom did not, by any means, disappoint. Just the square footage of it was impressive, but her eyes were particularly drawn to his bed, and not for any other reason than the way it faced massive ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked, as it seemed, the entirety of Hollywood; and she fell in love instantly. It was mesmerizing, and she could not fathom why on earth he planned on selling. Hell if he didn’t want the house anymore, she’d take it.

“Bathroom’s over there. Make yourself at home. I’m gonna set the alarm and turn off the lights. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Nodding, she waited for him to leave before she fully lost her mind about everything. Not only was she in the nicest house she’d ever laid foot in, but she was also about to crawl back into bed with him. His king sized, fluffy-looking bed she could imagine herself getting lost in.

She knew what they were doing was slightly out of the norm for people their own age. Most people didn’t sleep in the same bed as their friends unless they were doing something friends probably shouldn’t be doing. But the benefits of their budding friendship were a little more innocent than that to the point where even the thought of Will finding out where she was right now, while she slipped into her strawberry patterned pajama pants in Harry’s ensuite, made her lightheaded. She’d almost feel better if Will found out they were actually hooking up instead, because at least that wasn’t so… weird.

With the amount of time she spent getting herself ready, most of it being wasted on psyching herself up enough to go through with all of this, she’d become very familiar with his bathroom. He had two sinks along one wall, and massive mirrors that all faced a shower that could fit an entire army inside. The tiles were either black or white except for the blue pops of color here and there. The best part of it was the massive soaker tub in the back underneath a window that overlooked his garden. It was like he plucked a bathroom straight out of Good Housekeeping.

And of course she couldn’t let his things go unnoticed. She’d make herself a space at the empty sink nearest the door, the one that didn’t have his stuff neatly stacked around it. She eyed his small selection of colognes on a tray between the sinks while she washed her face, and couldn’t help her curiosity from checking out what brand of toothpaste he used when she started brushing her own teeth.

Other than the little touches of Harry scattered sparingly about, however, it was almost as if no one lived there at all. And she became very familiar with how cold it all was.

It wasn’t until she turned the sink off after splashing her face, again, with ice cold water, that she heard the soft hum of a guitar from just outside the bathroom door. She wasn’t sure if he was playing, or if he had turned music on. She wasn’t even sure if Harry Styles knew how to play the guitar. She couldn’t ever remember him playing any instruments whenever he came over to work with Will, but maybe she was just tragically unobservant.

And that seemed to be the case once she finished up and went back out to find him perched on what appeared to be his side of the bed with his guitar on his lap and a leather bound notebook open in front of him.

Though before she could make out a single melody, he immediately stopped playing the second she re-entered the room.

“Sorry, you can keep… doing what you’re doing.”

He let out an exasperated laugh while she crept towards the bed on the opposite side and made note of the way he quickly hid his journal from her and stashed it into a drawer at his bedside table. Maybe she was overanalyzing things, but it seemed like whatever he was writing down was for his eyes only, and she respected that.

“I was trying to write a song… hasn’t really been working out for me recently.” He leaned away from her to put his guitar down on the floor, setting it upright against the table, and she hated the way her eyes went straight to the small sliver of skin under his shirt that was exposed when he did so.

“Writer’s block?” She asked, slowly making her way up under the covers next to him, still feeling like she didn’t belong even though this had all been Harry’s idea to begin with. He needed someone and so did she, even if he didn’t fully know to what extent. But it felt like somehow she had tricked him into thinking the someone he needed was her.

“Sucks,” he mumbled to himself mostly, still very obviously in his own little work bubble.

“I usually just try to stop doing whatever I’m struggling with, and do something else, something I wouldn’t normally do.”

“You mean with your art stuff?” He asked and she wasn’t sure how he knew about her hobby, if Will had brought it up before, but it made her heart flutter nonetheless, that he remembered that small detail about her.

“Yeah.” She finally looked over at him, only to find him already staring at her and it weirdly made her less anxious about her current position. In his bed. In her roommate’s best friend’s bed. “If you’re stuck, you should leave it alone and write something completely out of your comfort zone. Then when you go back to where the problem was, you have a new set of eyes on it.”

He was quiet, first just listening to her speak, and then really letting her advice sink in because it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about doing, but he made mental plans to give it a try.

“I’m sorry if this is really weird, Y/N,” he began, getting her attention when he changed the subject. “I know it’s hard to believe but I’m actually horrendously alone and I guess when we slept together I didn’t feel so much that way anymore.”

“I get it, Harry.” She sighed, never wanting to fully open up to him, but feeling like it was now or never to get him to stop making it more weird by apologizing. “Makes you feel like… empty.”

“Exactly,” Harry sighed and she glanced at him when he agreed so enthusiastically. “I haven’t been that close to someone in… months,” he rolled his eyes down to meet hers again, “and I guess I just didn’t want it to be like that again.”

The look on her face alone made it easy to tell everything he said resonated with her, like he was saying exactly what she was thinking too. It broke his heart to know that she, in any way, felt like he did, but it also made him glad someone finally understood what he was going through, even if in just the slightest.

“I understand, Harry. I guess I just don’t understand why you’re alone. Can’t you have anyone you want?”

He scrunched up his face, “It’s not that easy.” He huffed, “People aren’t all that interested in me as they are getting loads of likes on Instagram and having lots of money. I mean… I haven’t had a single relationship that didn’t end the same.”

“Still,” she mumbled begrudgingly. He was still Harry Styles. People still wanted him and, even if it hadn’t turned out so well, he’d still been not alone at some point in his life, unlike her.

He raised his eyebrows, a little irritated at this point. “Okay then, why are you alone? Can’t imagine it’s that hard for you.”

She rolled her eyes away from him and hung her head to disguise the embarrassment on her face. There were two big reasons why she was alone, and she was not about to admit them to Harry at eleven o’clock on a Thursday night.

“So what is it then?” He talked for her when he grew irritated with her silence and her inability to see his perspective on things, “Your lack of ability to talk to people? Because you have these massive walls to keep literally everyone out, including me, for the past however many months we’ve known each other?”

She shook her head and sunk deeper and deeper inside herself. This was all a mistake. It had all gone wrong because she opened her mouth and said something insensitive.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Harry.” She looked at him again finally, holding back the stupid tears trying to well up just from the mere thought of being even moderately yelled at, and especially by Harry who she’d never imagined being angry a day in his life. “But if we’re just going to sit here judge each other, I think I should go.”

“No.” He immediately reached across the king-sized space between them to grab her arm before she even considered leaving his bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell like that.” They stared at each other silently for a moment before he continued, “You don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then at his hand around her arm and just how good it felt to be touched. Just to have human contact, even just something as simple as that. And then she felt just as desperate as she had when she agreed to all of this in the first place.

“Can we just go to sleep? I’m tired.”

It started out like it had before. A gap of space between them after Harry had turned out the lamp beside him. After he spent an ungodly amount of time staring out his window and listening to her breathing, and she spent the same amount of time overthinking, they both realized something wasn’t working.

“Harry?” She whispered like she was throwing out a line into a vast ocean.

“Hmm?”

“You were right… about why I’m alone. But… it’s also that no one’s ever really shown any interest in me because, um... ” she struggled, trying her damndest not to cry in front of Harry. “I’m... ugly, you know… so that’s, um...” Her voice was just a whisper she could barely even make out, but it was still the first time she’d said that to anyone before. Sure, she wasn’t facing Harry when she said it and they were in complete darkness, but it was still hard, hard enough to make her hands shake and the tears fall.

He knew it too, the way her voice wavered like he’d never heard before. He twisted his head over his shoulder to look at her, eyebrows furrowed even deeper when he saw the shadow of her hand move across her face to wipe the tears away.

And here she was; in Harry’s bed where she thought her problems would be temporarily solved, and yet she was still crying.

“So that’s why… I feel like I don’t let people in because I don’t want anyone to have to be stuck with me.” She finished and he flipped himself onto his back, still staring at her head like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, that she even thought that way about herself. He was sitting there in shock because, well… he had been wrong. He didn’t understand her at all.

Without a single clue how to respond without sounding like a disingenuous asshole, he went another route rather than opening his mouth to give her unsolicited advice.

“Come ’ere.” He whispered, helping her until she was in his arms again just like before. He cradled the back of her head with one hand as she hid her face on his chest and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. Slowly, she warmed up to him and tucked her own arm around his side as they fit themselves together like puzzle pieces all over again. Except this time, they were both consciously aware of it.

They stayed like that for a while until Harry listened to her breathing even out, and he could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. He still wanted to say a million different things, but knew it might only make it worse because his head wasn’t clear enough to say the right things. So, he just held on tight and waited for morning.

taglist: @afterstylesmadeit @cxnyon-moon @and-im-not-okay-with-it @chrryblsms @whydontharry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @idkthisisjustforfanfic @teddysoldbird @shawnsblue @thurhomish @theasstour @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @staceystoleyourheart @granolagrannie @defineharry @iambabyharry @1142590m @ashtondene @smokeinherperfume @cherryyharryy

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #onlyhuman

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ayeshintheclouds · 3 years

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I don’t really have a platform or any sort of public voice, I know. But there’s something that I want to talk about anyways because it’s really important to me and if even one person understands it or even sees it and keeps it at the back of their mind, it would make a difference in my opinion.

I want to talk about one of my best friends’ dads, Dr Hasan Gokal. You may have seen him all over the news, labeled “thief” by our lovely sensationalist media. I was really hesitant if I want to include him being my friend’s dad because I know it adds an element of bias to my argument. But I think it adds another perspective, another angle that the media can’t cover- I’m far enough that I have no obligation or pressure to go out of my way to support his cause. I’m close enough that I truly do see his side of it- the whole story unfold from before it ever hit the media: the struggle, the confusion, the misunderstanding and the pain that family is going through. My point is- I wouldn’t be writing this unless I truly believed him to be innocent.

Dr Hasan Gokal is accused of stealing vaccines. But he didn’t. Not really. He used up the remaining doses that were about to expire because he was ordered from higher ups to simply ‘find arms’ and use them all up because there was a shortage and we couldn’t afford to waste any. He filed all the appropriate paperwork, he asked permission from the highest higher-up available at the time. The word stealing implies the worst image: someone breaking in and stashing them in their bag and running. Which I know, is a technicality and it might technically be ‘stealing’ legally- but the way the media took that phrase and ran with it is extremely harmful to someone’s career. It is slander and deceitful, fueled by the media’s obsession with sensationalizing and demonizing people of color, especially Muslims. Especially someone who did something heroic and brave where he absolutely didn’t have to.

Dr Gokal was looking at the bigger picture, what truly mattered at that time, which was saving as many lives as possible as fast as possible. Each of those vials in his hands could have been someone’s life. Every arm out there was another person who could have caused another chain of infection. How could he bear to toss them in the trash? And I know- I know very well that protocol is important. The government, the healthcare system, they claim to take care of the bigger picture, “just do what we tell you, don’t think too much, too hard”

And I also know if everyone applied their own morals and ethics and ignored the system in place, there would be chaos. But in healthcare, you have to admit that there is a clear, clear grey area for unexpected situations such as these. These are unprecedented times, times with barely any frame of reference to look back on. All the protocol, all the rules, seem hastily made and vague and self contradicting. There’s orders from superiors to “find arms, waste nothing” And there’s orders from superiors saying to waste nine out of ten vaccines. Which are you supposed to follow? Dr Gokal was in an extremely grey area, and he made the best judgement call he possibly could have, given his time limit and his situation. He literally called and reported it to his superiors and filed all the necessary paperwork the next day. A ‘thief’ or anyone who believed what they did was wrong would not have done that.

Legality should not determine morality- wildly inhumane things were once determined legal by our country such as literal slavery.

This is not to say abandon all sense of propriety and do what your heart says- but I think Dr Gokal did an excellent job of balancing legality and morality. He did what he believed was right despite it being unconventional AND he followed all protocol- asking permission first as well as filing it in immediately after.

Admittedly, it may have been not the smartest thing to remove the vaccines from the site and administer them at people’s houses. Even so, it’s something that could have been cleared up with a fine or strict warnings. A court case and firing is very extreme for someone who was only going above and beyond to only do what the government and the hospitals were encouraging in the first place, to not waste.

Some aspect of racism definitely applies here, especially with the comment about “too many Indian names” brought up in court. The only reason he vaccinated many people from his cultural community was simply because they were the first ones he could reach. He called as many people as possible, his only goal was to just find arms. This would not have been brought up at all if the doctor were white and he vaccinated his friends Debby and Charles and Linda and Bob. No one would’ve raised an eyebrow and said “wow an awful lot of white people you vaccinated there.”

Well obviously? Maybe he was white and he knew many white people or lived in a white area? The sad truth is, that if it were a white man, he would be celebrated as a hero, not a criminal.

The racist comments I’ve seen are literally insane. I’ve seen people say Dr Gokal must be mailing vaccines to middle eastern terrorists- Please what?? I believe all logic goes out the window when some Americans see someone a few shades darker than themselves.

The biggest argument I’ve seen by far is- it’s not fair. But. How? These vaccines were being trashed. Wasted. They were not going to someone who could’ve deserved them more. They were being crushed when they were most needed, most precious. And most importantly- every person who got that vaccine was one hundred percent eligible. As in, if Dr Gokal hadn’t given his friends and family the about-to-be-trashed vaccines, they’d be in line within that next week anyways, consuming another entire set of vials. He could’ve gotten his people fresh new ones, but he didn’t because he felt it would be a waste of resources when there was already such short supply. This man prioritized you all’s health over his own family and community’s. He gave his people, his ‘inDiaN nAmEs’ the almost expired ones so there would be enough for the rest of the city. For all of you.

For every person he vaccinated that night, there opened up an empty spot in line the next day. A spot for your grandmother maybe, for your sick child maybe.

Someone could be alive today from his actions.

Dr Gokal helped conserve vaccines and he’s being labeled a thief. This is how our country rewards heroes. This is what our healthcare system prioritizes- petty legal formalities above human life. In a time when people are dying left and right, this is what they chose to focus their attention on. Hunting down a man who went above and beyond with zero regard for himself or his own gain and blasting him on social media and news as a criminal.

I’ve seen what it’s been doing to their family. They are so so tired of the stress, of the pressure. They don’t deserve this.

He is not a vaccine stealer. He is not some strange man from another country. He is American, just like all of you out there. He texts his daughter to please study and he plays hide-and-seek with Mikey the cat and he fixes our bikes when they break. He did the right thing and our blasted system is making him pay for it because we are so caught up in the details we hardly know right from wrong anymore. We are willing to let people die- as long as all the precious paperwork is filed, as long as our maze of systems remain perfectly in place.

Justice for Dr Hasan Gokal because he did what no one else could- care for his people. And maybe if our country cared half as much as he did, billions of people wouldn’t be dead today.

Please please sign this to help his cause

https://www.change.org/p/harris-county-district-attorney-kim-ogg-the-prosecution-of-dr-gokal-is-unjust-and-da-kim-ogg-should-stop-his-prosecution?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_27323511_en-US%3A4&recruiter=826836508&recruited_by_id=6d273550-c08c-11e7-8bf0-510c1cf8213e&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial

For the full story of what actually happened that night in detail:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/10/us/houston-doctor-fired-covid-vaccine.html

Thank you for reading it means a lot🤍

#vaccine #news #social media #houston #localheroes

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aelysianmuse · 4 years

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DESTIEL FIC REC

Okay, so, fanfiction is something that has brought me so much joy, entertainment and comfort during these hard times. These are the Destiel fics that I have bookmarked and would suggest for everyone to read. They are top notch in every department and I’ve read each and every multiple times. I wrote them down from the lowest word count to the highest and I linked the authors to their tumblr accounts, whenever I could find them, so please go shower them with love!

Touchstone - by xylodemon - Words: 3,519 - Summary: "You're in pain," Cas says finally. He sounds sad. (Episode tag for 11x03, the one where Dean is hurt but doesn’t think he deserves Cas healing him. Cas disagrees and makes heals him in loveliest, most tender way. Everything is beautiful.)

Colette - by englandwouldfall - Words: 4,218 - Summary: Cain’s prediction keeps ringing in his ears. He’s going to kill Crowley, then Cas, then Sam. It makes sense to him. He hates how much sense it makes, but there’s something almost poetic about it; it’s circular, neat, the Mark wants it. The Mark wants to destroy everything, but most of all it wants to destroy Dean. And that would do it. (Episode tag 10x14, Dean struggling with the Mark, unable to deal with all the anger and urge to kill and Cas trying to be his savior Collette. Feelings are acknowledged but things are far more complicated than that.)

Newton’s Third - by felolle - Words: 6,220 - Summary: “How can I be running from something when I’m racing toward it?” “I dunno -- kinda your thing.” Thanks for the call out, little brother (Episode tag 14x03, Cas helping Dean deal with Michael possession. Awesome character portrayal!)

Take me home tonight - by persephoneshadow - Words: 8,111 - Summary: The one where Cas wants to have sex and Dean is there to help (It’s a PWP where it takes some jealousy for Dean to get his head out of his ass - and Cas knows exactly what he’s doing)

Boys on film - by loversantiquities - Words: 8,540 - Summary: But maybe that’s what it is—maybe Castiel’s finally realized something Dean is too chicken to admit, despite the fact he’s been jerking off to the idea of Castiel fucking him for the past few weeks. The idea warms him as much as it pains him to think about, his friend not being able to talk to him about something like that. That has to be it—it’s the only explanation. Castiel likes him.“Or maybe he knows you do cam shows.”Dean chokes on his burger. (Basically Dean does cam-shows, Cas knows. They get it on in the end.)

Cuckoo and Nest - by komodobits - Words: 10, 190 - Summary: For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. (Boys walking on eggshells around each other, Castiel mistaking Dean’s neatness for annoyance about Cas’s lack of thereof, Dean mistaking Cas’s apprehension for having one foot out of the door. Miscommunication that gets resolved. It’s delightful!)

Just turn around and go - by Porcupinegirl - Words: 11,320 - Summary: Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives.It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas. (Some angst and miscommunication among roomies who are in love but needed a little push to finally do something about it, and that push is Cas deciding to move out and live with his actual boyfriend. Things work out just fine.)

So glad we made it - by annie d (scaramouche) - Words: 16,421 - Summary: At twelve years old, Dean makes a friend, who becomes his best friend, who will eventually become the love of his life. (Destiel fic in which they know each other since childhood and take their sweet-ass time with admitting to each other that they’re otp: meant to be. But it happens. Timeline of little snippets that show them falling in love and owning that shit up, at last!)

I know who I want to take me home- by annodominique - Words: 17,548 - Summary: The one where Dean and Cas are new workmates who hate each other's guts, are somehow forced into driving each other crazy because they secretly want to fuck, and they might have fallen in love with each other in the process. (Lots of sexual tension, mutual pining and enemies to lovers storyline - all in a nursing home. It’s amazing and absolutely heartwarming.)

Welcome to humanity - by winnywriter - Words: 19,944 - Summary: Castiel is falling, slowly but surely becoming fully human. Every day there is something new to discover, and many of those discoveries are not wholly pleasant ones. And the whole time, Dean can't help but worry about the fact that the further the angel falls, the more he finds he likes the human Cas is becoming. (It’s exactly what the summary says it is. Moments of Castiel slowly becoming human and Dean trying to help him navigate that path while navigating it himself in the most Dean way possible)

On air - by wincechesters - Words: 21,219 - Summary: Cas and Dean are radio DJs who host the second most popular morning show in Lawrence. They’ve been co-hosts for years at different stations across the country, and they own a house together out of necessity, even though they’re just friends. But for some reason, a lot of their listeners and even some of their friends and family seem to think that they’re secretly in some kind of relationship, which they’re totally not (besides that one time that totally doesn’t count). In spite of that, Dean thinks he’s got everything figured out, until an ill-fated on air game of Truth or Dare turns everything upside down (and the billboards around town aren’t helping either). (Friends to lovers story that’s very well summarized, so I have nothing to add except that it’s such a wonderful read, this author is absolutely amazing and you should definitely read it.)

The Beach House in the Winter - by englandwouldfall - Words: 23,715 - Summary: They're not exactly in a good place right now, so it was probably a bad idea to agree to a full Milton family reunion at their old summer haunt to mark a year since Cas' father died.Obviously, he did it anyway. (This is a second part of a series, I absolutely suggest reading all of the works ‘cause they’re equally wonderful, but I read this one first and individually and loved it the most so I’m suggesting it. Look at tag warnings. It’s about Dean having panic attacks mid sex due to trauma, Castiel trying to treat him right and handle the situation properly. They love each other so much ugh)

There are many things - by imogenbynight - Words: 28,807 - Summary: In which Dean and Castiel learn, through trial and error, how to be together. (What starts out as an angsty fic that follows Cas’s human experience after Dean kicked him out of the bunker, turns into a Destiel falling in love fic as they find their way back to one another)

Sometimes it fits - by ballsdeepinwinchesters - Words: 37,720 - Summary: Castiel is an over-worked, socially awkward neurosurgeon; Dean is the ruggedly handsome paramedic that asks him out for drinks. The rest kind of fell into place. (Two hotties with busy work schedules having lots of sex and being domestic. It’s a lot of fluff and smut. No angst.)

Put up your dukes - by saltyfeathers - Words: 38, 282 - Summary: Dean can't sleep. Cas offers to tire him out. (Dean struggling to accept the sexual tension relief Castiel is oh-so-eager to offer. So much tension, sparring goodness and bed sharing.)

All’s well that ends well - englandwouldfall - Words: 52,326 - Summary: Dean knew the second he took off that he shouldn't have left, but that didn't mean he could have guessed what he'd be coming back home to. (It’s actually a part 4 of the series, and I do suggest reading the entire series, but I read it first and individually before even realizing this and I absolutely loved it nonetheless. It’s about both Dean and Cas having made some poor choices in the past, abandonment and infidelity and two of them loving each other so much that they’re willing to forgive and fight for each other no matter what. Angsty and beautiful.)

A midterms night’s dream - by englandwouldfall - Words: 75,756 - Summary: There's at least fifteen good reasons why they're not sleeping together, it's just that Dean can’t remember them when Cas sends him one second dirty snapchats to goad him into doing the dishes. (One of my absolutely favorite fics and one of my top 3 fic authors (does a lot of series, which gets you really emotionally invested!). I suggest you read literally every single Destiel story written by this author, ‘cause it’s consistent in character portrayal and in invoking emotional response and I’ll probably explicitly write down at least one more story that I particularly liked from them. This one’s about them being college roomates who’re basically oblivious to sharing sentiment of wanting to be in relationship with the other, so they pine emotionally while having exceptional we-are-strictly-fuck-buddies sex)

Version 2.0 - by elizabeth1985 - Words: 75,937 - Summary: Life is nothing but a series of processes. We rise, we work, we function within the walls we’ve designed for ourselves. Dean Winchester does not deviate from this system. Heavily tattooed and a certified genius; Dean necessitates control. Relationships are a no-go. Too messy, unpredictable. And yeah, he knows having casual sex with his best friend, roommate, and business partner is a dumbass move. But Cas’ suggestion is impossible to resist.What Dean doesn’t expect and couldn’t possibly predict is the unique way Cas manages to shut down his mile-a-minute mind, giving him a level of inner peace he’d thought to be unattainable.What starts out of convenience morphs into a dynamic emotional slide neither of them were prepared for, forcing them to decide what they’re willing to risk. (Cas and Dean being business partners turning to fuck buddies turning to mutually pining idiots, where Cas won’t let things progress further ‘cause Dean is so entwined in every single aspect of his life that he’s absolutely terrified to lose it all. But Dean makes an effort to show him otherwise!) + It’s hard to fool around in a tent (Words: 5,861)

Any little heartbreak - by followthattardis - Words: 76,897 - Summary: Dean Winchester knows everything there is to know about the human heart. Well. Anatomically speaking. (Very Grey’s Anatomy-y, Dean is a thriving cardiosurgeon, Cas is his new surgical nurse assistant, there are so many well written characters, so much gossip, gratuitous sex and eventually a relationship. It’s so lovely, ugh I love this writer.)

A crash course in computer safety - by followthattardis - Words: 85,269 - Summary: On the day of his 29th birthday, Dean receives an email from his old nemesis: Michael Milton, the guy who got him kicked out of college and stole his girlfriend. The email contains encoded images with top secret CIA/NSA intelligence – and now their only copy is in Dean’s brain. Both agencies send their best operatives – Castiel Novak and Victor Henriksen respectively – to handle their accidental asset and protect the invaluable data in his head. To justify their sudden appearance in Dean’s life, they adopt covers: Victor as Dean’s new co-worker and neighbor, Cas as his new boyfriend. Needless to say, Dean’s brother and his girlfriend are thrilled to see him in a relationship they believe to be real. Clearly, there’s no way this could go wrong. (This is a NBC: Chuck AU and one of my top 3 fics ever. I haven’t watched Chuck at all and regardless of whether you have or not, I don’t wanna write anything else in this section ‘cause I enjoyed discovering every bit of information on my own. I’ve literally taken this fic and studied/analyzed it as a writer myself to take pointers on accurate character portrayal and writing style. It’s book material, I’d literally buy anything this author writes. It’s becoming a series and more content is to come so I suggest subscribing.) + Curtain up (Words: 10,311)

La hantise (The only work in progress fic here) - by quiettewandering - Words: 87,468 - Summary: Castiel’s mother dies, leaving him the family home that sits abandoned on the moody coast of Maine. He’s forced to return to the past ghosts of his trauma, as well as meeting the mysterious and nomadic Dean Winchester. Dean offers to help Castiel fix up the house so he can sell it, which quickly becomes problematic as Castiel begins to develop feelings for Dean; especially when details of Dean’s troubling past come to light.This is a story about the sea, second chances, and two broken, forgotten people building a love between them while restoring a broken, forgotten house. (Romance, ghosts, house renovation, cliffhangers, angst - I am awful with WP’s, never read them till they’re done ‘cause I’m an impatient one but this is the one I couldn’t resist and thoroughly enjoy)

Ignore the butterflies: best friend advice from Dean Winchester - by impatient14 - Words: 114,837 - Summary: Dean likes his doctor, but his doctor doesn’t like him.Accidental friendship ensues, heartwarming bonding type moments occur, and oops!friends become best!friends.But best friends aren’t supposed to feel the way Dean feels about Castiel. He knows this. So he ignores all the things that he can’t help feeling. When he sits and watches a movie with his best friend or when they are arguing about which method of coffee brewing is best, he pointedly doesn’t look at his friends lips, or the adorable way he tilts his head when he doesn’t understand.Dean ignores his feelings.That’s the way he knows how to keep his best friend.Just ignore the butterflies. (Dean is a heroic firefighter who ends up in stand-offish Castiel’s ER and flirts mercilessly with him, but to no avail. Cas is not made of stone, though, he’s just trying to protect his little heart ‘cause Dean does scary heroic things. It’s super emotional, go read it.)

Keeping you in sight - by gingerswag - Words: 136,374 - Summary: Castiel valued his solitude, and was happy to stay hidden away in the mountains for the rest of his life. But when his seeing eye dog dies, that solitude is suddenly broken when Gabriel shows up not with another dog but an actual human slave. Castiel doesn't believe in slavery, but he can't turn away the very hurt and broken man he's given. (This is a slavery fic, look up the tag warnings! It’s extremely angsty, it has a very human and rational ending which not might satisfy those looking for a conclusive, expressed fairytale ending for these two. It’s about Dean having gone through a lot of trauma and Cas being extremely lonely and two of them trying to mend each other while going through an excruciatingly painful healing process. I don’t think I can summarize it in a way that envelops everything that happens in this fic - it’s a tougher read but absolutely wonderfully written and very angsty)

Stay with me, sweetheart - by mandalarose - Words: 142,926 - Summary: A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV.When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship.Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there? (Dean is so whipped, so is Cas but he tries really hard not to get invested ‘cause everyone leaves and it’s not a commodity he can afford now that he’s got a baby. Thankfully for him, Dean is all-in kind of guy who’s gonna make all the right choices, one after another, fighting to show Cas that he can have what he desires and deserves, even after multiple attempts of Cas’s to push him away. Love conquers all!)

Four Letter Word for Intercourse - by bendingsignpost - Words: 194,739 - Summary: As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right? (I think I probably read this story a hundred times. Fantastically written fic where Dean is a student discovering his sexuality through a phone sex line, struggling with having to take over family business and Cas is a professor with a sidejob, with whom Dean interacts wordlessly at the library. It tackles on mental health, on wonderful sex dynamics, coming out and lots of other stuff. It’s one of the best writen fics out there, along with the other works in this series that I highly suggest to read: A Little Anal - Words: 18,805 and What makes a man kneel - Words: 9,920)

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #destiel fic rec

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gffa · 4 years

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@ap-trash-compactor replied:

1/7 I wanna preface this by saying I agree with everything you’re saying here but I think there’s another layer to how Raffa’s story functions both textually and meta-textually, and to what it illustrates about how many people in the Galaxy /might/ perceive the Jedi, which I personally haven’t seen addressed yet. Sorry in advance if this is something you’ve heard/read/discussed ten million times already, but... 2/7 If you took Raffa’s story out of Star Wars and put it into a contemporary drama, changed the word “Jedi” to the word “police,” and made the particulars about a high-speed car chase? I think it would sound pretty believable. And I think this illustrates something Palpatine does through the mechanism of the Clone Wars to make the position of the Jedi especially vulnerable or precarious wrt to public opinion. 3/7 Even if every single Jedi engages w the power and authority of their military or police role only in the best intentioned, most good-faith way imaginable (which the Umbara arc tells us doesn’t always happen), any time you are in a role where you, even have without wanting or intending to, exercise the power of life and death other lives, you will cause pain and be a target for resentment. Someone will lose someone, and be angry. 4/7 No matter how good or how well-intentioned or how compassionate they are, during the Clone Wars the Jedi are forced into the role of a state authority exercising the power of life and death. They are not only a cultural minority during the Clone Wars. They are also a branch of the state, and in that role they sometimes either kill people, or are involved in events where people die and where, no matter their intentions, they are the face of the state and the voice of authority. 5/7 Many of the military and police actions shown in different episodes of this series leave destruction in their wake. The Jedi’s participation is barely by choice and almost never by preference— but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. 6/7 There are not many Jedi during the Clone Wars. Certainly there are not many compared to the problems they are trying to fix. I have no doubt Luminara tried her best, wanted a different outcome, and gave Raffa all the comfort she had the time and the opportunity to give... But if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your only direct experience of the Jedi is like the one Raffa describes? You’re probably primed to consume all of Palpatine’s worst lies. 7/7 If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them.

I think you and I are very much on the same page! I have discussed this before (the public’s turning on the Jedi), but I’m always down for discussing it again! Especially when I love pretty much allllll of this. If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them. You are spot on with your summation, to the point it’s almost hard for me to respond with anything because I feel like all I can do is bang my fist on the table and go, “Yes! This is what I’ve been talking about!” Though, of course, there is a lot going on here that’s making it complicated. This post that you’re responding to is focused more specifically on the theme of unreliable narrators + the close associations this season has had with Revenge of the Sith (the moments that make us sit up and go, “Oh, that’s foreshadowing for stuff in ROTS!” like Padme’s pregnancy, Anakin’s advice to Rex, etc.), but there’s also what you’re talking about here--that it’s been a long-running theme in the GFFA that public sentiment turned against the Jedi and that the causes of that are fascinating. I said a bunch of times that Rafa’s hurt in this episode is valid, that there’s room for both the Jedi acting with honorable intentions and that people don’t trust them, don’t draw comfort from them, that these things are not mutually exclusive and you’re hitting on exactly why--because they were put into a situation where, if they’re not 100% perfect, then they’re going to fall off the pedestal they’ve been put onto. That any flaw they have will then get magnified a hundred times. Luminara seems to have made a point to go back and try to talk to Rafa, to tell her a phrase that is narratively meaningful within Star Wars on a meta level, like, that says to me that she has really good intentions! But that Rafa doesn’t draw any comfort from it, as a non-Force sensitive and someone who probably is left to the Republic’s shitty welfare services (which isn’t the Jedi’s jurisdiction, they’re not social workers and we can’t expect them to be), doesn’t undercut Luminara’s presumed good intentions, just as Luminara’s presumed good intentions don’t undercut Rafa’s hurt. And that it’s understandable--because, as the Maul arc in season 5 says, the Jedi aren’t doing the things that they used to do, that crime is flourishing because they’re being so busy with this war they’ve been drafted into. Even Star Wars: Propaganda makes it clear that public sentiment turned against the Jedi because of a cultural absence, rather than anything they actively did. This is all by design from Palpatine, that he’s keeping them so busy putting out tire fires on Ryloth (who were being slaughtered by the Separatists), on Mon Calamari (who were being enslaved by the Separatists), on Kiros (who were being kidnapped and taken into the resumed Zygerrian slave empire), that they don’t have time to do the things they used to, like take care of a lot of the criminal elements or the outreach programs that we see hinted at in the supplementary material. The Jedi had to make a choice between fighting in a war where entire worlds were being enslaved, that there were only so many of them and they were dying, that they died in droves on Geonosis in Attack of the Clones and they’re dying every day in the war, that they were literally one out of six billion in the galaxy at their height, and that they had a million expectations placed on them. They have very little political capital/power, yet they’re expected to solve all the problems in ways that will last. They’re expected to police the Underworld, but also not police the Underworld because then they’re restricting people. They’re expected to be social workers. They’re expected to fight and die in a war that the public itself refuses to stand up in. And when they don’t live up to those impossible perfections, they’re torn down. This is not to set aside that of course there are instances of people like Trace and Rafa, where the destruction wreaked by chasing down someone like Ziro is going to sometimes cause people to get hurt and, honestly, I don’t feel like Rafa really blamed Luminara for that, given the acknowledgement of the crowded platform she was trying to avoid. But if she had? That, too, would have been reasonable and understandable! That it doesn’t matter if the Jedi were doing literally everything they could, that doesn’t mean there’s not also room for Rafa’s hurt. And that, even if I think there was absolutely nothing that Luminara could say that would have given Rafa comfort, that doesn’t make Rafa’s hurt/viewpoint any less empathizable. My blog tends to focus on the Jedi side of things because those are the characters I’m interested in, not because they’re the only element that matters. In the meta we’re responding to, a lot of the focus is on Luminara and the Jedi because that’s my jam, that’s the part I thrive on, but we’re definitely in agreement that Rafa’s feelings are not wrong and it’s not hard to see where they come from! I do take issue with the idea of--whether it’s true or not, we can all argue about it all day long, but it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not--that if the Jedi are remote and distant from the galaxy, that that narratively is approved of how they then “kind of brought their downfall (aka, violent genocide) on themselves”. That’s something I’ve seen skirted around in commentary from the creators and I’m wary of it leaking into the narrative in a more substantial way. But that’s an entirely separate issue from the fact that anti-Jedi sentiments exist in the narrative and that they led to the Jedi Purge/Jedi genocide. As part of the propaganda and manipulations Palpatine did, yes, absolutely, that is one of the most fascinating things! And that doesn’t mean that there’s not validity to those feelings, even if they’re rooted in propaganda and manipulation! But that, just as there’s room for Rafa’s hurt despite Luminara’s intentions, there’s room for the Jedi’s good intentions despite the public’s hurt and/or mistrust. My thing is that I tend to look at why the Jedi act the way they do and I usually come away with empathy for how they got into the situations they did. Like, take their alignment with the Republic, which was an organization with corruption down to the roots by the time of the Twilight of the Republic, that that association absolutely led to their downfall/genocide. But what else could they do? Being part of the Republic in that way allowed them to actually help people, to have negotiating power, to form treaties that would be honored even when they were no longer on a given planet. If they weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Senate, they could not have helped as many people as they did, especially because how would they even be able to afford starship fuel or housing costs? Would they charge people for their services? That’s a disaster waiting to happen! There’s room for both “the best option for the Jedi was to be part of the Republic and try to improve the system from the inside, which is what they did” AND “the being part of the Republic is what ultimately fucked them”, those things are both true! but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. Spot on! I have fun looking at what Luminara’s intentions likely were and what the context of the structure of the show entails, that Rafa’s character doesn’t have to be a reliable narrator to be valuable (and I say this as someone who actually really loves the unreliable narrators of SW, which honestly is almost literally every single character, very few are ones you can take at face value without seeing the circumstances for yourself), but to Rafa it doesn’t really matter what Luminara did or didn’t say, because that’s not what she was looking for or what she got out of that conversation. I can’t say I would act differently in her position! And that’s exactly what Palpatine did. He pulled the Jedi in so many different directions, made them responsible for things that literally no group could possibly have survived with public sentiment intact, and even if the Jedi had been literally perfect (which they weren’t), it wouldn’t have mattered, given that the entire point of the prequels is that you gotta choose between Shitty Option A and Shitty Option B. It’s the galaxy’s worst ever version of, “Which would you rather?” except its real and you have to play the game, because not playing gets you fucked over even faster, like it did with Mandalore.

#rafa martez #jedi order #meta #tcw spoilers #long post

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

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enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better.

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

“Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…” Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

#mobster!bucky barnes #mobster bucky barnes au #winter solider #bucky barnes x reader #mobster bucky barnes x reader #lukis writes things #fun fact this drafts is almost 2 years old #and i kinda hate it but listen its done and its on the internet now

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

Text

The Origins (Chapter 2)

Summary: Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

AO3link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/61113496#workskin

Today’s protagonist is... GEORGIA RAWLES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. I think you can alredy tell that I am kind of pairing the OG team with each other (not in a romantic way, I swear) so those two member’s stories will be totally realted, but all of them are interconnected in one way or another. Next chapter will be from Kasumi’s perspective, then Evander’s, Tamaya’s, and last, but not least, Hugh’s.

Also, Grammarly is a bitch, so if anyone can recommend me a good english grammar checker, I will be forever greatfull.

And, guys, thank you so much for the support! Every reblog and every like means the world to me <3

The world that we design

Age of Anarchy

Year 3

Her mother had been very clear to her. Georgia couldn't tell anyone what they were going to do Saturday morning at the Rae house. She couldn't tell her classmates, her teachers, or the gardener with whom she got along so well. If she told anyone, her mother promised that she would burn each of her mystery books and all of her dolls in the fireplace. Georgia knew that her mother was not one to make promises that they would not keep. It was not worth the risk.

After making her swear that she would keep the secret, she told her to choose a toy or a book that she wanted to show Tamaya Rae. Georgia let out a startled cry and started asking hundreds of questions: What was Tamaya Rae like? Had she seen her? How old was she? Was she as pretty as Mrs. Rae, or did she have Mr. Rae's hideous nose? Why did she never leave her home? Was it because of her allergy to the sun? How can you be allergic to the sun?

Her mother lost her patience and sent her to her room.

"Young girls should not bother their mothers with so many questions," she exclaimed.

Georgia tightened her jaw. If her father had been there, he would have defended her. He always let her ask all the questions she wanted.

On Saturday, before leaving, she looked in the huge mirror they had in the living room. With her pink dress and pearl hair clips, it was almost as if Ace Anarchy had not taken over the city three years ago.

Were they poor? No. Georgia went to a private school, her house was in a decent area, and they could even afford to have a maid and a gardener. She knew they were rich. But they used to be even richer.

As soon as they arrived, an employee opened the door to the garden of the Rae house. It used to be prettier, but they still had those roses that she liked so much. That, and the small tower that protruded from the ceiling, gave it an enchanted castle look, perfect setting for the scandalous murder of the king's lover.

"You're right," her mom laughed. “Just don’t tell Tamaya you said that.” And she rang.

Georgia looked out into the garden once more. There was a space where a car would fit perfectly, but there was no car. She didn't think it was because they didn't have one. She had seen the Rae arrive at the church in a dented (but elegant) black car.

Before she can ask her mother, Mrs. Rae opened the door.

"Hello Tara," she greeted with a smile on her red lips. "Good morning Georgia. Come in, come in."

The Rae family had managed to keep their most beautiful things. The ones that caught her attention the most were the chandelier, an old piano, green velvet armchairs, and an antique porcelain vase. Mrs. Rae was talking to her mother when Georgia asked:

"Where's Tamaya?"

Her mother seemed shocked at the interruption, but Mrs. Rae was very light about it.

"Oh sure," she whispered. "Come, follow me. Tara, my dear, why don't you go ahead in the kitchen? Tea should be ready by now."

Tara gave one last look at her daughter before leaving.

Mrs. Rae guided her to the second floor. There was a hallway full of doors, but one stood out from all of them. It was silver with carved emerald details. Behind it, there was a large circular room, with five-meter bookcases covering her even higher walls and a larger bed than Georgia's, covered in cushions with too much lace.

She was watching how the tower was on the inside.

It would be a much prettier room if it wasn't dark.

"Tamaya, your friend has arrived."

Mrs. Rae turned on the light. As soon as her eyes managed to experience the new lighting, Georgia understood why Tamaya did not go to school with her.

Sitting around a crowd of dolls, sipping tea among them, Tamaya Rae looked at her with those amber eyes, identical to her mother's. She wore a green floral dress and her dark hair fell gently over her shoulders. She would have looked angelic, if not for the satiety in her gaze and the huge black wings that came out of her back.

"Tamaya, this is Georgia," said Mrs. Rae with a light push, "Tara Rawle's daughter."

"Hello…”

Tamaya did not change her expression.

"Well, have fun," exclaimed Mrs. Rae after ten seconds of awkward silence. There was too much joy in her words to be true. "Tamaya, behave yourself."

Georgia believed that when Mrs. Rae left, Tamaya was going to pounce on her and rip the skin off her face. Fortunately, that was not the case.

She did nothing.

Literally nothing. She just kept watching her in complete silence.

“Hi Tamaya," Georgia said a little more confidently than before." I'm Georgia. "

"I know."

"Um…"

Tamaya lost interest in her and returned her attention to her dolls. They were drinking real tea.

"Can I join your tea party?" Georgia asked.

"It is not a tea party," Tamaya snapped annoyed, "it is a gathering of the Gatlon City Detective Department."

"Can I join the Gatlon City Detective Department meeting?"

"I'm afraid only those who are part of the department can participate. It is a very important case. I'm sorry."

From her tone of voice, Georgia doubted she was sorry. But she liked that game.

"What do I have to do to join the department, then?"

"We have no openings at this time."

Georgia took a doll with golden curls and said in an extremely shrill voice:

"I quit, Detective Rae, I can't take it anymore."

She dropped the doll onto the bed. To her surprise, Tamaya was unimpressed by a magnificent imitation of a doll's voice. What's more, she looked more fed up than ever.

"You can't join the department. It's my last word."

For some reason, those words hurt Georgia more than she expected. But, as her mother said, it was not worth staying in a place where they did not want her.

"Well, I didn't even want to join anyway," she spat, clutching at her purse.

"Perfect. It looks like we're both on the same page."

"That's right! And playing with dolls is for little girls. I'm already a woman. I had my first period two weeks ago."

"I had mine three weeks ago," said Tamaya. "And frankly, you're not behaving like a woman right now."

Georgia knew she couldn't go out and tell her mother that she already wanted to leave. But she would no longer stand to be with a girl as rude and cruel as Tamaya Rae. Therefore, she decided to fly off and sit on one of the wooden beams that supported the roof of the tower. She took her book out of the purse and began to read it, willing to stay there the rest of the two hours they were going be in that house, without speaking to Tamaya again.

However, she immediately noticed Tamaya was looking at her, with her jaw dropped to the floor.

"What?" Georgia asked from the wooden beam.

"You can fly," Tamaya stammered.

Georgia shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"You are a prodigy."

She didn’t answer.

"But then why do you look so...?"

Suspense.

"So what?" she asked. Curiosity was going to kill her if she didn't ask.

"So normal?"

Georgia frowned.

"What do you mean normal?"

"My mom says prodigies always have something that gives them away," she replied. "An unusual eye color, hands too big or ... well, you know."

"Wings."

Tamaya nodded. Georgia had never heard anything so stupid. (Or maybe she had, but she was too upset with Tamaya to remember.)

"Well, your mom is a liar."

Tamaya threw a marble at her with such force that it hit her knee.

"My mom is not a liar!"

"Sorry, but prodigies are not too different from other people," Georgia replied. "What she told you is untrue. How do you call that? I will tell you: it is called a lie. Therefore, your mom is a liar. I rest my case.”

For a second, Tamaya's expression seemed sad.

"But I am too different."

That was when Georgia understood it. It was not just any lie; it was a white lie. Of those that she constantly said. "That dress fits her very well, ma'am." "Oh, but of course I like the bean stew, sir." "Yes, I have studied for the exam, teacher."

"A lie is still a lie, Georgia," she imagined her father reminding her, "no matter what the intention."

"You're not that different," said Georgia.

"Now you are the liar."

"I am not a liar," she defended herself.

"Tell me then. What makes me not that different?”

Georgia thought she would have to use all the skills she had in telling white lies. She stared at the girl below her for a good ten seconds, before realizing there would probably be no need to lie.

"You have pretty hair," said Georgia. "And your dress is beautiful. It shows you have an excellent sense of fashion."

Tamaya smiled.

"You also have a good sense of fashion. I can tell because of your underpants."

Georgia flushed and crossed her legs.

"Tamaya, you creep!”

Tamaya laughed out loud, and Georgia soon joined her. She had to admit it was funny.

"I hardly like wearing dresses," she explained. "They are very uncomfortable to use when I fly."

"I don't like dresses at all," Tamaya replied, "but my mom says I look prettier with them."

“Well, mine says true beauty is within. Wear whatever you want.

"Do you wear whatever you want?"

Georgia nodded.

"What do you use for flying?"

"When I fly, it is at home, when my mother is not around," he explained. "Pants are the most appropriate clothes for flying. What do you use to fly?"

"I do not know how to do it."

Georgia pretended to pass out from the shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. My dad won't let me," Tamaya explained sadly. "He thinks I should keep my feet on the ground.”

"Literally."

"Literally, yes."

"That’s unfair.”

"He doesn't know you're here either."

Georgia almost passed out, but this time, for real.

"How so?"

"Yes. My mom invited you because she thought it was a good idea that I talk with someone who doesn't have a head made of plastic," Tamaya explained. "But my dad didn't want to."

"Your dad sounds like a bad guy," she snapped.

For a second, she believed Tamaya would throw her another marble. Instead, she shrugged and muttered:

"He probably is."

"And what did you want?"

"About what?"

"Did you want me to come to play?"

"I didn't care," Tamaya replied. "My dolls have been my only friends in these twelve years of my life, and they have never disappointed me. They could have remained my friends for much longer."

She did not believe it. If she had to be locked in a room, with the dolls as her only company, she would probably go crazy. Of course, she loved her dolls, but not that much. Also, she did not want Tamaya to go crazy. Although her teachers told her that she had a strange ability to drive crazy everyone who ran into her. However, she was sure they used "drive crazy" in the good sense of the word.

She got off the beam and took the doll she had left on the bed.

"What did you say?" she asked the doll. She brought her face close to her ear like the doll was telling her a secret. "Are you sure that's what you want? Okay, I'll let her know." Tamaya looked puzzled. "Detective Egerton says she is very sorry that things ended like this between her and the Detective Department. She knows she cannot fix her mistakes, but she has chosen me as her replacement." She looked at the doll once more, wiping the fake tears from her cheeks. "Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Stella. I promise I'll make you proud."

"Molly," Tamaya corrected.

"Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Molly," Georgia repeated. "I promise I’ll make you proud."

"Okay, Georgia, you can join the team," Tamaya agreed. "But with one condition."

"What is that condition?"

Tamaya slightly flapped her wings. She had a spark in her eyes.

A spark of madness.

"That you teach me how to fly."

Georgia did not stop to think about the problem she would have with the Rae if they discovered she was teaching her daughter to fly. She also didn't remember she had no idea how to explain Tamaya the rules behind the flight. She didn’t even know the rules behind flying. The only thing on her mind at the time was how cool it would be to have a prodigy friend with a power similar to hers and was as much out of her mind as she was.

"I agree. Now, what case are we working on?"

Tamaya poured her a cup of tea.

"Do you remember Mayor Everhart's first wife?" Georgia remembered and nodded. Her mom had mentioned her, yes. "She went to the hospital when she was about to have her baby, nine years ago, right? She came back, but the baby didn't. Supposedly, he was born dead. Two days later, Mrs. Everhart appears dead in her own home. The cause? Suicide… But, was it really suicide? "

Again, that suspense... And now, mystery. Georgia's two favorite things in one person.

#renegades #renegades trilogy #fanfic #ao3 #tamaya rae #georgia rawles #archenemies #supernova #the origins

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