#its my right and my duty to say this as a dyke

[therewasagameonceinsanityarg]

um so he makes a lto of projects. agent unrealitty.

lesbian space pirate dating simualtor has been stated by GLITCH AI or in general adam snowfalke the maker of teh arg, to be a "test" of love with chosen romantic options for the cult. what cult? i dont fucking know. he gives the genres differnt names but says in asia rage quit and irony are genres of gaming and stories, and that lesbian space pirate dating simulator was meant to be one such thing.

the options according to my interview with arg staff are:

baren johnson a bisexual he him lesbian

yanderekun a butch lipstick lesbian as two spirit

ahack widow an agender or he him lesbian and or two spirit

mindy starcast the lesbian half romani half black transowmen captain

fonty a dyke

gabby: a latina who breaks the fourth wall

robin wong: a french women who moves very quickly but is voiced with a lesbain accent

enby way; a genderfluid lipstick goth

the premise is that you and your old crew went about sabotoging your new crew right after dyingg your hair and you wake up with amensia held against your will int his pg dating with cussing and no sex but an aseuxal writer, where you are held prisoner on ktichen duty, to assit the crew because pirates have honour and "we dont kill" mindy starcast was voiced by a transraical lebsian naemd kathy anderson who died in a car accident. text was native and voiced achack widow.

the crew are alien space pirates, and you teh surgate player have a unique design and outlook. in adams arg insanity its implied to be the myth of BO BOE or UMPTA. which is antive american gods of harem. basically its an etchi without the porn, its a playbale picture book draw in a toony style, where you can romance lesbians at different speeds based on arhetypes in teh suffereagte movement based off a real native ritual to find a soul mate.

many peoplea re under the impression that it is a short game cus it is coded intentionally like doki doki litereture club to have hidden content and ednings and is hard to dig through the code of but can last hours. it is meant to be a puzzle and rage quit that rewards you with a girlfriend that in achacks tribe would give you a daydream or real life one. it is like that frosty yokai that seduces neets in japan, exept each girl has something wrong with them that adds a challegne to the romance.

enbys routes all end as dark horrror. she is a vampire.

you can kill the blind native chef if you touch her beceause of your diesases.

baren is homophobic as a method of flirting with you.

mindy is a drunk.

robin moves to fast and you can bully her.

so on and so forht. eric dubetey is native american and vocies baren johnson.

[gatheringbones]

[“All The Animals

Sometime in the winter I say, “Let's go to Puerto Rico." Thinking of the little patch of pasture and a visitor's bunkhouse I'd found the year before, from a two-line ad in the hand-typed stapled “Lesbian Connection." Because how do you travel, a woman alone who can't, won't, doesn't want to hang out at the bar late at night in case a man, or in spite of a man. Some dykes in Michigan had been putting out that newsletter for years, from before I was out as a lesbian.

I am thinking of Leslie and me as “lesbians" until I say, “Let's go!" Then Leslie says OK, sounds OK, won't need a passport to go from the U.S., she doesn't have a passport, and her driver's license is iffy, about to expire, and how to get another with the M to match her who people see, so definitely no passport, but the license is good through next year, OK to travel on, but what about them expecting only “women" if it is one of those “women-only" places for lesbians, but if men go there too, then are the bathrooms coded, will she have to take herself out of “woman" to be able to use the bathroom? When it is just her and me being lesbians?

We don't talk about this all at once, but at some point I write off to the woman who lives there and takes in paying guests at the camp- out pasture and the bunkhouse with the porched kitchen for cooking, and I don't now remember what I said, how did I evenexplain my question? “A very masculine woman"

But the woman writes back and says, no problem, no problem, everyone welcome as they are, and then we are in a bumblebee of a plane propelled from the mainland to Isla de Vieques, La Nena, and then in the rattling straight- shift rental we both know how to drive, bumping uphill over unknown dirt roads in the rapidly- gaining dark, there we are staggering under our borrowed tent we've never set up together, through the unknown weeds and sand out into the pasture with only starlight for our guide, putting our shelter up as if blindfolded, some elaborate survival test that we pass while doubled over laughing, falling into our sleeping bags with our clothes on, then our clothes off, skin to skin, waking up to roosters crowing, heat crowding in on us with the first staring sun. Leslie lying on me, sweating on me, fucking me until I crow with pleasure, and in the middle some huge animal comes snuffling at our edges to see what we are doing. Laughing again.

There is a rain-water, gravity-released cold shower and no gender required anywhere. It's a two-acre paradise, and in the photographs, I have a red hibiscus flower behind my right ear as I smile, and Leslie is smiling on the beach in a bathing t- shirt and shorts, her arms open wide and outstretched to me. We don't go to the luminescent bay at midnight to see the water coruscating with all its tiny beings, but we do go to the west end of the island one midday, and at the edge of the sand there is a tiny pulpo swimming in the rocky shallows, its eight arms busy gathering lunch. So close we could have touched its arms wheeling and whirling.

Then a jeep of men drives up, Leslie hurries me into our rattle- trap and does a three- point getaway in the sand. She is serious about our getting away. They look like Gls off duty looking for something to do, and there we are, available to be done. Who knows who it is they see when they look at us? The island is occupied by the U.S., has been occupied since 1898, and these young white guys are part of an occupying force used to doing whatever they want with whoever is on the island, us or the people who live there or the pulpo in the small, transparent wash of the sea.

Years after us there are waves of demonstrations to fight off the Occupation, the pollution the military leaves behind, the leftover bombs. What we see that day when we drive south to have lunch in Esperanza is graffiti on the sea wall: U.S. Out!

On the way back to our refuge, we see another whitewashed cement wall by the road, with all the animals painted, jumping out of a cerulean blue wheel of constellations, a whale, a dolphin, an eagle, a panther and the wild, wild whirling arms of the little pulpo.”]

minnie bruce pratt, from sinister wisdom issue 122: How Can A Woman Who Is With A Trans Man Call Herself A Lesbian? spring 2024

[the100thballoon]

at my old house, on a small cul-de-sac right off the main road we always got our lawn mowed by this old man (not dissimilar to dick van dyke) who lived a few minutes down that main road. the main road was named after his family, and he was the only one still left in the area. my family discovered, after several years of confusion, that he was dating the lady whose elderly mother lived behind us. (also, he had beef with our other elderly neighbor, a retired police detective who was also named rich. the problem, apparently, was that rich the detective started getting his lawn mowed by someone other than rich the lawn guy, and this was Highly Problematic and Deeply Offensive.)

anyway. rich the lawn guy, legend that he was, lived on a VERY rundown little lot, and yes, lot is the only possible correct word for his little space. he had actually purchased his lot as well as the one next to it and the one behind it, and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it except store his heavy duty equipment and a lot of inexplicable stacks of logs. his house did not have siding, as was typical of the homes in our area. at least, not normal siding. the best way to describe it is driftwood? it looked like driftwood, exactly the kind of house you would expect of a retired sailor with leathery wrinkled skin. he was never, to my knowledge, a sailor. he did speak fondly of riding his motorcycle through cornfields while the police chased him. occasionally we would be driving home from taco bell and pass rich the lawn guy, who might be puttering down the road in a skidsteer, ford pickup, or bicycle- whatever had struck his fancy. rich the lawn guy was a character, and his house matched.

we didn't have an HOA in my area, as far as i know, since we were weirdly situated, ten minutes from an ivy-league college town where it costs approximately ten zillion dollars to park on the street for an hour, and ten minutes in the other direction from the state capital, which is also the kind of town where you could watch drug deals happen on the sidewalk in front of the library. our mail would have any one of up to six different town names. so given the location of our cul-de-sac, we didn't have an HOA.

but we did have the township, and it was committed to doing its job. they saw rich the lawn guy with his piles of logs, giant mysterious hill covered in patchy sod, and three to five burnt-orange cat heavy duty vehicles. my mother still speaks of the time she looked in her rearview and saw rich the lawn guy driving a frontloader. rich the lawn guy's property did not, to my knowledge, have a frontloader.

suffice it to say, the township did not like rich the lawn guy. specifically, they were not big fans of his driftwood house. they sent him a letter telling him to Paint It Or Else.

rich the lawn guy painted his house.

he gave it a clear coat.

the township did not try again. rich the lawn guy had won, and now he lived in a slightly reflective driftwood house.

[mrgirl]

i hate timothee chalamet & his pointy little rat face....

[celticcrossanon]

Full Order of Service (as the one below is missing pages)

from https://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory/order-service-funeral-prince-philip-77134393

LONDON -- This is the Order of Service for the funeral of Prince Philip on Saturday:

ORDER OF SERVICE

All stand. The Coffin is removed from the Land Rover and is carried to the West Steps where it rests at 3pm for the one minute National Silence.

The Coffin is then carried to the Catafalque in the Quire.

Members of the Royal Family who have walked in the Procession are conducted to their places in the Quire.

Meanwhile, the choir sings

THE SENTENCES

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.

John 11. 25-26

I KNOW that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.

Job 19. 25-27

WE brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

1 Timothy 6. 7, Job 1. 21

William Croft (1678-1727)

All remain standing. The Dean of Windsor shall say

THE BIDDING

WE are here today in St George’s Chapel to commit into the hands of God the soul of his servant Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. With grateful hearts, we remember the many ways in which his long life has been a blessing to us. We have been inspired by his unwavering loyalty to our Queen, by his service to the Nation and the Commonwealth, by his courage, fortitude and faith. Our lives have been enriched through the challenges that he has set us, the encouragement that he has given us, his kindness, humour and humanity. We therefore pray that God will give us grace to follow his example, and that, with our brother Philip, at the last, we shall know the joys of life eternal.

All sit. The choir sings

ETERNAL Father, strong to save,

Whose arm doth bind the restless wave,

Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep;

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O Saviour, whose almighty word

The winds and waves submissive heard,

Who walkedst on the foaming deep,

And calm amid its rage didst sleep:

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O sacred Spirit, who didst brood

Upon the chaos dark and rude,

Who bad’st its angry tumult cease,

And gavest light and life and peace:

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea.

O Trinity of love and power,

Our brethren shield in danger’s hour;

From rock and tempest, fire and foe,

Protect them whereso’er they go:

And ever let there rise to thee

Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

Melita by J. B. Dykes (1823-76) William Whiting (1825-78)

Arranged by James Vivian (b. 1974)5

All remain seated.

THE FIRST LESSON

Ecclesiasticus 43. 11-26

read by the Dean of Windsor

LOOK at the rainbow and praise its Maker; it shines with a supreme beauty, rounding the sky with its gleaming arc, a bow bent by the hands of the Most High. His command speeds the snow storm and sends the swift lightning to execute his sentence. To that end the storehouses are opened, and the clouds fly out like birds. By his mighty power the clouds are piled up and the hailstones broken small. The crash of his thunder makes the earth writhe, and, when he appears, an earthquake shakes the hills. At his will the south wind blows, the squall from the north and the hurricane. He scatters the snow-flakes like birds alighting; they settle like a swarm of locusts. The eye is dazzled by their beautiful whiteness, and as they fall the mind is entranced. He spreads frost on the earth like salt, and icicles form like pointed stakes. A cold blast from the north, and ice grows hard on the water, settling on every pool, as though the water were putting on a breastplate. He consumes the hills, scorches the wilderness, and withers the grass like fire. Cloudy weather quickly puts all to rights, and dew brings welcome relief after heat. By the power of his thought he tamed the deep and planted it with islands. Those who sail the sea tell stories of its dangers, which astonish all who hear them; in it are strange and wonderful creatures, all kinds of living things and huge sea-monsters. By his own action he achieves his end, and by his word all things are held together.

All remain seated as the choir sings

THE JUBILATE

O BE joyful in the Lord, all ye lands:

serve the Lord with gladness,

and come before his presence with a song.

Be ye sure that the Lord he is God:

it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

O go your way into his gates with thanksgiving,

and into his courts with praise:

be thankful unto him, and speak good of his Name.

For the Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting:

and his truth endureth from generation to generation.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:

world without end. Amen.

Benjamin Britten (1913-76), in C

Written for St George’s Chapel, Windsor at the request of The Duke of Edinburgh

All remain seated.

THE SECOND LESSON

John 11. 21-27

read by the Archbishop of Canterbury

MARTHA said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. And even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who is coming into the world.”

All remain seated as the choir sings

PSALM 104

The Duke of Edinburgh requested that Psalm 104 should be set to music by William Lovelady.

Originally composed as a cantata in three movements, it was first sung in honour of His Royal Highness’s 75th Birthday.

MY SOUL give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.

The waters rise above the highest mountain,

And flow down to the vales and leas;

At springs, wild asses quench their thirst,

And birds make nest amid the trees.

The trees the Lord has made are full of vigour,

The fir tree is a home for storks;

Wild goats find refuge in the hills,

From foes the conies shelter in the rocks.

My soul give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.7

O Lord, how manifold is your creation,

All things in wisdom you provide;

You give your riches to the earth,

And to the sea so great and wide.

You take your creatures breath and life is ended,

Your breath goes forth and life begins;

Your hand renews the face of earth,

Your praise my whole life I will sing.

My soul give praise unto the Lord of heaven,

In majesty and honour clothed;

The earth he made will not be moved,

The seas he made to be its robe. Give praise.

William Lovelady (b. 1945) abridged and arranged for choir and organ by James Vivian (b. 1974) with the composer’s permission

Words from Psalm 104, adapted by Sam Dyer (b. 1945)

The choir sings

THE LESSER LITANY

Let us pray.

All sit or kneel.

LORD, have mercy upon us.

Christ, have mercy upon us.

Lord, have mercy upon us.

THE LORD’S PRAYER

OUR Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name;

Thy kingdom come;

Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive them that trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation;

But deliver us from evil. Amen.

THE RESPONSES

ENTER not into judgement with thy servant, O Lord.

For in thy sight shall no man living be justified.

Grant unto him eternal rest.

And let light perpetual shine upon him.

We believe verily to see the goodness of the Lord.

In the land of the living.

O Lord, hear our prayer.

And let our cry come unto thee.

William Smith (1603-45), adapted by Roger Judd, MVO (b. 1944)

The Lord’s Prayer, Music by Robert Stone (1516-1613) from John Day’s Certaine Notes 1565

THE COLLECT

The Dean of Windsor shall say

O MERCIFUL God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life; in whom whosoever believeth shall live, though he die; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in him, shall not die eternally; who also hath taught us by his Holy Apostle Saint Paul, not to be sorry, as men without hope, for them that sleep in him: We meekly beseech thee, O Father that, when we shall depart this life, we may rest in him, as our hope is this our brother doth; and that, at the general resurrection in the last day, we may be found acceptable in thy sight; and receive that blessing, which thy well-beloved Son shall then pronounce to all that love and fear thee, saying, Come ye blessed children of my Father; receive the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world. Grant this we beseech thee, O merciful Father through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen.

THE PRAYERS

The Archbishop of Canterbury shall say

O ETERNAL God, before whose face the generations rise and pass away, thyself unchanged, abiding, we bless thy holy name for all who have completed their earthly course in thy faith and following, and are now at rest; we remember before thee this day Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, rendering thanks unto thee-for his resolute faith and loyalty, for his high sense of duty and integrity, for his life of service to the Nation and Commonwealth, and for the courage and inspiration of his leadership. To him, with all the faithful departed, grant thy peace; Let light perpetual shine upon them; and in thy loving wisdom and almighty power work in them the good purpose of thy perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Dean of Windsor, Register of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, shall say

O LORD, who didst give to thy servant Saint George grace to lay aside the fear of man, and to be faithful even unto death: Grant that we, unmindful of worldly honour, may fight the wrong, uphold thy rule, and serve thee to our lives’ end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

GOD save our gracious Sovereign and all the Companions, living and departed, of the Most Honourable and Noble Order of The Garter. Amen.

O GOD of the spirits of all flesh, we praise thy holy name for thy servant Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, who has left us a fair pattern of valiant and true knighthood; grant unto him the assurance of thine ancient promise that thou wilt ever be with those who go down to the sea in ships and occupy their business in great waters. And we beseech thee that, following his good example and strengthened by his fellowship, we may at the last, together with him, be partakers of thy heavenly kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Archbishop of Canterbury shall say

O LORD God, when thou givest to thy servants to endeavour any great matter, grant us also to know that it is not the beginning, but the continuing of the same unto the end, until it be thoroughly finished, which yieldeth the true glory; through him, who for the finishing of thy work laid down his life, our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Amen.

ALMIGHTY God, Father of all mercies and giver of all comfort: Deal graciously, we pray thee, with those who mourn; that casting every care on thee they may know the consolation of thy love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.10

All sit as the choir sings

THE ANTHEM

GIVE rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy Saints:

where sorrow and pain are no more;

neither sighing, but life everlasting.

Thou only art immortal, the Creator and Maker of man:

And we are mortal, formed of the earth, and unto earth shall we return.

For so thou didst ordain, when thou createdest me, saying,

Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

All we go down to the dust; and, weeping, o’er the grave,

we make our song: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

Russian Kontakion of the Departed

Translated William John Birkbeck (1859-1916)

Kiev Melody, arranged by Sir Walter Parratt, KCVO (1841-1924)

All stand.

As the Coffin is lowered into the Royal Vault, the Dean of Windsor shall say

THE COMMENDATION

GO forth upon thy journey from this world, O Christian soul,

In the name of God the Father Almighty who created thee;

In the name of Jesus Christ who suffered for thee;

In the name of the Holy Spirit who strengtheneth thee;

May thy portion this day be in peace,

and thy dwelling in the heavenly Jerusalem. Amen.

All remain standing. Garter Principal King of Arms proclaims

THE STYLES AND TITLES OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE PHILIP DUKE OF EDINBURGH

THUS it hath pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory life unto his divine mercy the late most Illustrious and most Exalted Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Knight of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Member of the Order of Merit, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order upon whom had been conferred the Royal Victorian Chain, Grand Master and Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Lord

High Admiral of the United Kingdom, One of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Council, Admiral of the Fleet, Field Marshal in the Army and Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Husband of Her Most Excellent Majesty Elizabeth the Second by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, Sovereign of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, whom may God preserve and bless with long life, health and honour and all worldly happiness.

Thereafter, the Pipe Major of The Royal Regiment of Scotland plays

A LAMENT

The Buglers of the Royal Marines sound

THE LAST POST

After a period of silence the State Trumpeters of the Household Cavalry sound

REVEILLE

The Buglers of the Royal Marines sound

ACTION STATIONS

Then the Archbishop of Canterbury pronounces

THE BLESSING

All remain standing as the choir sings

THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

GOD save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen,

God save The Queen!

Send her victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,

God save The Queen!

All remain standing in their places as Her Majesty The Queen, Members of the Royal Family and Members of The Duke of Edinburgh’s Family leave the Chapel via the Galilee Porch escorted by the Dean of Windsor and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Music after the service

Luke Bond, Assistant Director of Music, St George’s Chapel, will play

Prelude and Fugue in C minor BWV 546 Johann Sebastian Bach

END

[theslashmix]

I didn’t merely see

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31545329

Written for the LLSS prompt  “ Harry Welsh isn't as oblivious as everybody thinks he is. (ft. Winnix and/or Speirton not being that subtle after all)"

beta-read by @thrillingdetectivetales

will publish a translation/ rework of it in Italian

For some reason, people seemed to forget that Harry was an observant man. He was an officer, and in his modest opinion, a decent one. This meant that he must have a good eye for detail and an even better brain to put things together in a coherent manner: it thus surprised him a bit that people seemed to stop at his jovial façade, somehow separating it from the competence that he had shown on the battlefield. It was almost as if there were two of him- good ol’ Harry, always down for drinks and shenanigans, and First Lieutenant Harry Welsh.

He had known that Winters and Nixon were a thing since Toccoa, and had guessed that they had been for a while before that- since OCS, probably. The signs were all there, almost painfully too easy to spot for someone who truly watched, instead of just seeing: the little touches that lingered just a second too long; the brief stretches of time when no one seemed to know where they were; the constant invasion of each other’s personal space that wasn’t an invasion at all, because at some point it had gotten from being my personal space, to you’re welcome in it, and it was slowly morphing into our personal space under Harry’s very eyes.

He had wondered why on Earth Sobel hadn’t picked up on it, what with him hating Winters’ guts and desperately trying to find even the smallest fault in the man. After some more careful observation, Harry had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t so surprising after all, because Sobel, consciously or not, didn’t want to see it. It was glaringly obvious that Sobel was very good at lying to himself, and him hating Winters was a big, fat lie. He was not good enough at lying to himself that he would try to destroy Winters with that particular tactic, though.

 When Sobel was removed from Easy, Harry drew a big sigh of relief.

It had made him uneasy, back then. It was hard to reconcile the stereotype of fairies he had in his head with the reality of how the two officers were. They should have been effeminate, weak, hysterical: they weren’t. Winters was everything that the high brass could want in an officer and a soldier, and Nixon, despite his flaws, was a good man, and a good intelligence officer. Harry wondered for long hours whether he ought to report them: a lifetime of conditioning was hard to shake. In the end he didn’t: D-Day arrived too quickly, and he had other things to think about rather than trying to convince a court martial that Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon were a homosexual couple. Especially since he had nothing more substantial than a lame “well, they are often together” and his own impressions.

After Normandy, Harry actively decided that he would do nothing about it, even if he didn’t approve. After Normandy, the boys would follow the two officers just about anywhere, and Harry couldn’t in good conscience take them from Easy, because that would mean that more of the boys would die in the incompetent hands of Norman Dyke.

 After Bastogne and Foy, after Nixon had decided to stay in that freezing hellhole with them (and with Winters) instead of taking the much sought-after furlough stateside, Harry decided that he would actively cover for them, if that was what it would take to keep Dick and Nix with them. He decided that it was completely wrong that the world had decreed that the two of them shouldn’t stay together, because after the long scrutiny Harry had imposed on them, there was only one conclusion possible: the two fit so well together that God must have made them to be together. Their relationship evolved to its full potential in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, if what was between them was just sinful lust.

 Now it had fully become our personal space, and the two could hold an entire conversation in just a single, prolonged stare, like an old married couple. Even the boys seemed to be always talking about them as a package deal. “Winters and Nixon said that…”, “Yesterday Winters and Nixon…”, “Do you think that Winters and Nixon will…?”, “Where are Winters and Nixon?”

 There could be no doubt whatsoever that Nix belonged with Dick and Dick belonged with Nix, the same way that Harry himself belonged with his beloved Kitty.

He noticed the signs of the very same thing going on between Speirs and Lip in Haguenau. It was nowhere near as long standing as Dick and Nix’s relationship. If he had to pinpoint its starting moment, Harry would have guessed around Bastogne, at the earliest. Probably when Speirs had stopped going to Dyke for updates on Easy and had started to go directly to Lip. There was still a tentativeness around them, the sweet, hesitating exultance of discovering each other, the pressing need to be together and close as much as possible.

It was in the way Lip perked up as soon as he heard Speirs’ steps, and in the way Speirs’ eyes kept turning in the direction of the house where a sick Carwood Lipton was billeted with a worried frown, as if the lieutenant was magnetic north and the captain was the hand of a compass. It was in the way Lip murmured Speirs’ Christian name when they thought that nobody was there to hear them, and in the way Speirs had claimed the right to take care of Lip as if it was his God-given privilege, and woe betide whoever dared to interfere. 

He hadn’t known the true depth of it though, not until one evening in Haguenau when he had decided to go and visit Lip in his billet. The lieutenant had healed from pneumonia in a way that Roe had defined “miraculous”, but was still quite weak and needed rest. Harry hoped that a Hershey bar would lift his spirits a bit, and distract him from his desperate need to mother everything and anything that breathed. They should probably have him infiltrate the German troops, he’d have them tucked up in bed by 2100 sharp, and no sneaking out to invade Poland, is that clear Adolf?

Harry walked softly, making no noise in case Lip was asleep. As he got close to the flimsy door, he realised that Lip wasn’t asleep, and was in fact talking with none other than Speirs.

“- if you die, what good would you be to the boys?” Speirs was saying, with an exasperated tone that indicated that they had had this discussion a few times already.

“There’s no other second lieutenant, Ron. If I don’t take care of my duties, nobody else will, and the boys will go without supplies.”

“Car- you seriously think so little of the other officers that we’d let Easy starve?” There was an obvious subtext there- do you think so little of me?

“No!” Lip’s exclamation was scandalized and filled with frustration. “No, I don’t. But you all have so much to do already. You shouldn’t be doing my job on top of yours.”

“You’re talking as if you were purposefully slacking, Car. You aren’t. You are sick, you didn’t want this, and nobody thinks any less of you because of it.” Speirs’ tone was getting increasingly frustrated.

“But I can’t-”

 “No, I can’t, Car!” Speirs’ voice rose a little before the captain brought it back down. “I can’t stand the thought of you grinding yourself to the nub. I’m scared, Car, for the first time I’m truly scared in this goddamn war because I’ve got something to lose,” he said, and Harry was surprised to hear him admit such a thing. Hearing Captain Ronald “Killer” Speirs so vulnerable, admitting to his fear so openly with a voice raw with emotion, was something Harry had never even dreamed could happen, not in a million years. It must have cost him a lot to admit it.

“It’s hard enough that I have to send you into action knowing that you could die, but I can accept that because it’s out of our control. I can’t accept the thought of losing you to a pneumonia relapse, not when it can be avoided by you simply resting a bit!” Harry had never heard Speirs talk so passionately.

There was a rustle of cloth, and a muffled sob- they had probably embraced, seeking the comfort of touch and closeness in the very real solidity of each other’s body.

“Please, Car. Please. Do your best to live- I just can’t bear it,” murmured Speirs.

There could be no doubt left that the love between them was the real deal and not something wrong or twisted, not after hearing the pain in Speirs’ voice at the thought of losing his lover. It couldn’t be wrong, not when it could give back humanity to a man like Ronald Speirs, giving him something not only to die for, but to live for, which was much, much more important.    

 “Oh, Ron…” said Lip in a voice that was heartbreakingly tender, and Harry decided that it was time to go. He suddenly felt ashamed, as dirty as if he had spied on them having sex- no, not having sex, he amended. They would make love. He shouldn’t have eavesdropped. It had been a moment of deep intimacy between the two men, not only of the body but of the soul, and he couldn’t bear to spy on something so pure for a moment longer. Even though he had to admit that he was glad to know that there was something that had remained pure and unsullied despite the war.

It was a week later or so, when he heard Luz talking about how quickly Lip had bounced back from pneumonia.

“Couldn’t bear the thought of us boys being without their Mama Lip, especially now that he’s got Papa Speirs to take care of him,” he said wisely, and his audience nodded solemnly, unanimously agreeing that Lip and Speirs were a package deal as much as Dick and Nix were.

He knew then, with certainty, that Speirs and Lip belonged to each other the same way Nixon and Winters did.

Of all the things he had expected to change during the war, his perspective on homosexuality hadn’t been one, but he solidly counted it among the few, positive things to come out of that particular bloodbath. When Dick announced at the end of the war that he had decided to accept the job offer at Nixon Nitration, and Speirs that he would go to West Virginia “to see what opportunities I can find there,” Harry felt happy for them.

They belonged together, and they would stay together. Maybe there was some justice, in this world.

[4dtk]

read part one here! there’s more dialogue in this one, oops. plus, this isn’t based on any song but there’s undertones of ‘love song’ by nct 127 in it, enjoy!

[jaemin, 6:38pm] the next time you meet jaemin is when the rain’s pouring heavily, creating music on the metal roof of the convenience store. it was just your luck to reach the store before the rain intensified, but now you were probably stuck for a good hour until the downfall subsided. he was holding a blue packet of chocolate hearts, talking to a friend who was situated on a bike.

“jaemin?”

he spun around at your familiar voice, arms going up in excitement at seeing you.

“is this the girl you were talking about jaem?” the other male giggled, putting on his helmet before starting up his motorcycle. you looked at him funny, wondering what things jaemin could’ve told him.

“sorry for laughing, but jaemin has only told me good stuff about you, don’t worry about it. i’m jeno,” you bowed slightly, smacking jaemin lightly after his friend had left the area. there was a subtle rev from the biker before hearing him speed off in the rain. you stole a chocolate heart from him as punishment, waiting for the familiar flavour to kick in but grimaced instead at the bizarre taste. snatching the packet from him, you noticed that it was a limited edition of blueberry chocolate hearts, shooting the male a disgusted look.

“what? blueberry chocolate hearts aren’t that bad.”

hearing the pitter-patter of the rain calmed your nervous heart, as you wondered what jaemin could’ve said for his friend to react like that.

“who was that?”

“he’s in my class, he majors in geology like me.” jaemin looked over to you, waiting for a reaction from you. was being interested in the earth weird?

“geology? it never struck me that you would be a man interested in rocks.”

“yeah, this man is also rock… hard,” you only sighed at that, leaving the male to laugh at his dick joke while you enter the store for the original flavour of chocolate hearts. you hoped he didn’t actually… have a boner, or that would be disturbing as hell.

“you kinda set yourself up for that one, (y/n), plus you make it seem like it’s a boring thing to be interested in, we also learn about volcanoes and earthquakes and anything that relates to the earth and its processes.”

you put your hands up in surrender, “i’m not saying it’s not intriguing—i did do geography in high school, i was pretty good at it, but i think i forgot most of it.”

jaemin smiled, bringing his arms into a big circle, mouth wide open even though there was a half-chewed blueberry heart in his mouth. “but that’s just the surface of it, we learn a lot more than high school geography.” you glanced at the boy, noticing the unique way in how his eyes gleam from the refrigerator light and how his gestures travel everywhere to get his point across.  

“yeah? like what?" giving up your usual drink, you settled for the coffee service at the counter instead, knowing you'd rather enjoy a hot beverage rather than an iced coffee in this weather.

“normally, the geology of an area changes over time—rock units are deposited and inserted, deformational processes alter their shapes and locations. they are first emplaced either by deposition onto the surface or intrusion into the overlying rock. the former process can occur when sediments settle onto the surface of the earth and later lithify into sedimentary rock, or when as volcanic material blanket the surface,” you cut him to show off your high school level geography, poking fun at the male while your smile got through to his heart, “like, ash and lava.”

jaemin could only laugh in reply, waiting for you after the cashier as you waited for your cash to be returned and for your coffee to be made.

“igneous intrusions such as batholiths, laccoliths, dykes and sills, push upwards into the overlying rock, and crystallise as they intrude.” he ended off his small speech with a bow, passing him to receive the scorching hot beverage before going outside to sit with the rain.

“did you read that off wiki before this?”

“in a way, i… guess. i did have a test a few days ago, i have another tomorrow.” jaemin giggled, frowning right after at the last blueberry heart in the packet. he offered it to you, anyway, but turned it down due to its questionable flavour.

before you could insult him for his weird tastebuds, you heard a crash from inside the store, causing you to check out the sudden sound. umbrellas were scattered over the floor, having fallen over from its box when it was unstable. you and jaemin helped the cashier on duty to place the umbrellas back in place while you debated on whether you should purchase one to head back.

just do it.

“hey, sorry, can i purchase one of the umbrellas?”

the cashier only smiles at your question. “rushing to head back home, huh?”

you didn’t know how to answer her question, so you stayed quiet as she checked your item out. removing the plastic from the new umbrella, you tugged on jaemin’s arm to drag him under your shelter with him. at this, he shook his head.

“what?”

“i hate the rain,” he muttered, hand visibly tightening around the blue wrapper of blueberry chocolate hearts.

“i’m not gonna leave your sorry ass waiting here for the rain to ease off, you said you had a test tomorrow, right?” you tried your hand at tugging on his arm again, but he remained glued to his spot.

“iiiiiii just remembered it’s just a small quiz, doesn’t need much studying,” jaemin grinned, looking into your eyes for some kind of message, but all he got was your unimpressed face staring back at him before sighing, “okay fine. whatever. let’s go.”

it doesn’t take much for your heart to spike up in speed, his arm naturally going around your person as he takes over holding the umbrella. you can see how he pouted while leading the way back to the university dorms, noting how he kept looking down at his shoes. new shoes? was that why he didn’t want to go into the rain? jaemin’s enigmatic behaviour remains unanswered as you feel his breath on your hair, occasionally turning back to look at incoming traffic.

“you’re really warm, did catch a fever?” you asked cautiously, despite loving the warmth the boy gave out. it felt familiar and comforting, like a knitted sweater or blanket that resided in your dorms. said boy could only show you a small smile, eyes crinkled at its tips softly as he went on to cross the road that led to your destination. you definitely saw your own reflection in his eyes with how close you were standing, with how big and expressive they were.

“…dent pass?”

huh?

“do you have your student pass?” jaemin repeats, using his head to gesture to his occupied hands.

“oh no,” you said, not intending the other to hear your wave of panic.

“what is it?”

“my friend tapped me out, do you have yours?” your heart was at the verge of dropping, awaiting his answer that would decide your fate.

“so did mine,” jaemin could only purse his lips, halting in front of the dormitory gates in the pouring rain, “i am really hating this right now.”

“you don’t think i’m uncomfortable?” you scoff, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. his arm went from around your shoulders to your waist almost immediately, hands hovering right after he’d seen your surprised expression.

“sorry, about that.” he trailed off, looking anywhere but in your line of sight as you struggled to hide your smile. you shake your head, stepping closer to the geology major in a leap of confidence. both of you wish you could’ve stayed like that a little longer, though, the atmosphere was ruined with a ding! of your phone. it was a picture of the two of you smiling down at each other, prompting you to eye your roommate from where you were.

curse the room that was facing the dormitory gate; plus, she was being unnecessarily annoying today.

with a whoosh!, you sent out a text for her to pick you up before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you.

“hi.” you mumble, not knowing whether to smile when he was looking at you like that, where the strands of his hair were a little damp and his cheeks reached his eyes due to his wide smile.

“hey, (y/n).” jaemin whispers back, arm tightening around your body, hoping your friend never comes and that you could remain here forever.

funny, you were hoping that would be the case too.

[artificialqueens]

Gimme Love, 4/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Hey, guys! So I realised I forgot to explain the idea behind this story. This is part of a series I'm working on called 'Head in the Clouds' - stories that are inspired by the music of Joji. This story is loosely based off the music video for 'Gimme Love'. I couldn't make sense of the actual video cause it goes by so fast (if you watch it you'll see what I mean), but I kind of have an idea.

Thanks for listening to my TEDtalk.

Major Trigger warnings: Dementia, death, grief, homophobic slurs

-_-_-_-

2003

"Brianna, could you come here?"

I put my pen down on the kitchen table, not really minding that Grandpa was interrupting me. The studying was tiring, if anything.

Walking into his room, I found him getting up from his desk.

"Hey, Grandpa," I said.

"Brianna, do me a favour, baby. Could you read me this one chapter?" He asked, retreating to his bed.

Bit of an odd request for him. "Why? What's up?"

I picked it up, one of the many books that delved into the science and possibility of the existence of parallel universes.

"I'm just...finding it kind of hard to concentrate." He laughed to himself. He made a groaning sound as his back hit the bed.

I sat by him and read about 3 chapters before he said, "that'll do. Thanks, honey."

I got up and moved to the desk, briefly glancing at the front cover, at the main character with his telescope. Far off memories flashed in my brain. I put the book down, turning to face him.

"What are you smiling at, honey?" Grandpa asked, a smile appearing on his own face.

"I just...remember the night you told Jujubee and me about 'the other world'. We haven't stopped talking about it since." I admitted, putting the book back on his desk. "And we'd always play these games like we were there. Our lives would be so different. And just a little bit better."

"And then you found yourself wanting that in reality." Grandpa finished for me.

I was silent, but he knew he was right. "It's not that I didn't appreciate what I already had. It's just...whenever my anxiety was surfacing, or whenever someone was mean in school, or whenever I thought of my parents, I'd just...want to escape." I sat down in the chair next to his bed again, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it reassuringly. "Didn't you ever feel the same?"

Grandpa breathed out a sigh through his nose, his smiling widening. "Brie, of course, I have. All the games you and Juju played, it's called escapism. And it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Wouldn't you ever try to find one?"

"Find what?"

"I don't know. A door? A gateway to the other world?"

He didn't even need to tell me 'yes.' He had spent many years reading the books, sometimes reading them more than once, making notes and coming up with his own theories. He probably felt the same way I did. In darker times, when things didn't feel like they'd get any better, he was curious about his other-self.

I knew the answer was yes. But I liked hearing him talk about these things.

"Baby, it's something I've always wanted to do. I always...wanted to know if it was possible...to slip into that other world, find this house, and just hope and pray my wife would still be on the other side of that door. I'd kiss her hand and bring her back here. And, life would be complete." He confessed. His smile was sweet but also sad, "But you know, with old age comes difficulties. My brain ain't what it used to be. Just all these words. Sometimes, they're...foreign to me."

This was the beginning of a long year. All the signs started out small, usually, Grandpa looking out the window wondering when his wife would come back from the store and losing the ability to read.

And over time, it slowly began to escalate, getting worse with each month. So bad to the point he'd take his seat belt off at a red light and try to get out. Or he'd shout at Mom, saying she's going the wrong way. Every piece of my Grandpa was slipping away.

And it was all taking a toll on my own happiness.

"You look pretty today." Jujubee commented as we walked through the hallway.

"If you say so." That was all I could reply with.

"No, really. Your hair looks really cute like that." She tried again.

I had no idea what she was talking about. I literally pinned two pieces from the front to the back of my head. It was a half-assed attempt of trying to convince everyone I gave a fuck anymore.

"Yeah, right, Juju. I look no better than I did yesterday. Or the day before. And the day before that.

Jujubee paused for a moment, whereas I continued on. "Are you OK?"

I turned to look at her. "Yeah." I lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I wasn't ready for this, Jujubee concerns. The truth was I never told her about my Grandpa because then she'd want to talk about it, then I'd cry, then I'd probably go home and have a breakdown, then I'd give Mom more shit to worry about.

Judging from her knit brows, she wasn't buying it. Before she could even ask anything else, I turned back around, just wanting to get on with things and get to my next class on time. But Trevor just had to be there. He knocked me hard on the shoulder, making me drop my books and almost fall to the ground.

He quickly spun around, watching me collect my books. "Man, who put that trash there?"

I glanced at him with a scorn.

"Hey, douchebag," Jujubee stepped in front of Trevor, "I can see you're a little butt-hurt now that your sex life is dryer than a nuns vagina."

My eyes were wide now, knowing that wouldn't sit well.

"What did you fucking say to me?" Trevor raised a brow.

"You heard." Jujubee said with such spite. "Why don't you go rub one out to your Mom or something? Stop projecting all your problems onto my girl?"

Trevor scoffed a laugh. "Your girl? What are you, a couple of dykes?"

My jaw was almost on the ground. I looked around, noting the students observing as they passed by. I couldn't let them know my secret. I couldn't.

"Why? Does that make us all the more interesting?" Jujubee squinted her eyes. "Honey, don't pretend the thought of us 'dykes’ making out doesn't make an insecure guy like you hard."

A sound emitted from my throat - A panicked sound. Like a yell, one that was dragging its way up my throat, fighting to get out. The attention of everyone around was on the situation, since when? I had only become aware now of the sounds of thrill and excitement. I was internally panicking. How many people were there? Were they even looking at me?

"Not in your wildest dreams, honey." Trevor practically spat the last word before deciding he was finished. He turned and walked away.

Jujubee approached me, rolling her eyes. "God, does he know when to quit?"

But I just stared at her, pretty sure I was trembling. My eyes were still wide, and my jaw stiff.

"Brie?" She blinked.

I could feel it, the lump in my throat beginning to form, like a hard stone that was lodged in place. Blinking a few times, I held the books tighter to my chest and turned to walk away.

"Brianna, what the fuck?" Jujubee came after me.

"Juju, just...leave me the fuck alone." My voice cracked as I quickened my pace.

She didn't follow me anymore. Thank fuck. Because next thing I knew, I was in a bathroom cubicle, quietly crying. I stupidly decided to not go to class. I say stupidly because, during the last period, Denali leaned over and told me she thought they suspended me. When I asked why she would even think that, she said the rumours spread fast, that I had punched Jujubee.

Oh, high school drama.

Of course, Jujubee didn't deserve this. She was only doing her friendly duty and looking out for me. But I didn't need any more shit from Trevor. I didn't want all those eyes on me as I walked the corridors. My home life was already too much.

I wanted to hold on to my Grandpa for as long as I could. But seeing his health dwindle, it felt like someone was coming to get him. And no matter how much I wanted to hold on, they were going to take him away no matter what.

Around 7 months in, his immune system was beginning to fail. He was bedridden.

I'd sit with him for at least an hour every day, either reading to him, feeding him, or just having a long talk. I had a tendency to write down at least one sentence from each conversation like it would provide me with some comfort, like he was still there. When in reality he was...he was...

"Why the sad face, baby?"

I snapped out of my trance, blinking a few times as I looked at him. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"What happened? Did someone break your heart?" He asked, following it up with a laugh.

I let myself smile. "No, thank God. I'm just sleepy. I had a long day at school."

"That's a shame. I was gonna suggest we break out the old telescope. I bet we'd find Cassiopeia if we tried hard enough."

My mouth formed a hard line, unsure of how to respond. As much as I wanted so badly to sit out in the garden with him, he wouldn't even be able to make it there.

"You sure you're OK, Brianna?" Grandpa asked.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking." I looked away, studying my nails instead.

"Well, if it's not a heartache, I bet someones caught your eye?" He asked with a smirk.

I couldn't help but allow the corners of my lips to curve up. "Yeah, actually."

"Oooh." He cooed. "And what are they like?"

I thought for a second, debating how I should answer. To be honest or not. If I lied, would it even make a difference?

Looking at his innocent face, I decided fuck it.

"Sweet. Beautiful. The bluest eyes I've ever seen." I paused. "She's an absolute angel."

Grandpa was silent momentarily. But just as the nerves were beginning to surface, he replied, "and does she know how you feel?"

"No."

"Well, why don't you let her know?"

I took a deep breath in. "Because...I don't know if she likes me back. I don't know if she even likes girls."

"All you can do is try."

"It's not that simple," I spoke quietly. "She's...popular. She's beautiful. She's...everything that I'm not."

My eyes drifted to my hands once again. If I cried, would it even matter? Wouldn't he forget?

"Don't say that about yourself, honey." He reached a hand out and put it on mine. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

I lifted my gaze again, looking at him with glossy eyes. My silence spoke volumes.

"Oh, no, Brianna." He said with such disappointment. "I can't believe you feel that way. Ain't you ever stopped to look at yourself?"

"No," I whispered. "I can't stand it."

"You need to. Because you are prettier than you know." His own eyes were glistening now. "You may not believe me, but someday you're gonna meet someone who will show you."

I dabbed the inner corner of my eye, "You really think that?"

"I know."

"That means a lot." I smiled.

He gave one final pat to my hand and pulled it away. "Do me a favour, honey. Could you get me some juice?"

"Sure."

I stood up and left for the kitchen.

On my way, I passed through the hall, catching a glance at my reflection. Naturally, I would have disregarded it. But I stopped and stood in front of it. And I just looked.

I wasn't immediately satisfied. But upon taking my glasses off, my opinion changed. I learned pretty quickly my eyes were the best from my facial features.

I smiled. Best not. My frown was oddly alluring. I tried smiling again, this time with teeth. But the braces just ruined the mood.

Putting my glasses on again, I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt tiny paws tap my feet. Of course, it was just Piggie. I scooped him up and looked at both of us together.

"God has favourites, Piggie. Take a wild guess out of us two who it is." I looked at his face in the mirror.

He cocked his head, looking at his own reflection like he couldn't figure out what was going on.

I carried on to the kitchen with Piggie still in my arms, poured the juice and made my way back to Grandpa's room.

I pushed open the door with my foot.

Grandpa's head quickly shot up as I walked in.

"Sorry it took so long. I - -"

"Who are you??"

I froze on the spot. "It's me."

"Roberta! Roberta, there's somebody in the fucking house!!"

My brain went into panic mode. I set the juice to the side, put Piggie out into the hall and approached the bed.

He was continuously shouting, thrashing around in the bed as if to escape. I tried grabbing his hands, reassuring him it was me, his Grandchild. We had literally just been talking.

But he only roared over the sound of my voice, trying to fight my hands off him.

"Pop! It's OK!" Mom rushed into the room. "It's just Brianna!"

I took a step back, letting her take control. He stared at me with an intense level of fear. What did he think I was going to do? Who did he think I was?

"Brie, go to your room or something. I'll calm him down." Mom commanded with a crack in her voice.

With a wavered breath, I left. The sounds of his shouts, I couldn't bear it. I had to get away, even for a little bit. I needed out.

I hurried out the front door, stuffing my arms inside my jacket sleeves, and marched down the path. I didn't even look back at the colourful house. I just wandered. Wherever my feet were going to take me, I'd be fine.

In a sense, I felt cruel, like I was selfish. Despite wanting to be around my Grandpa for as long as possible, I couldn't stand moments like these. But you'd think dealing with this for so long would have toughened me up a bit.

Not even in the slightest.

There I was, marching down the street, trying hard not to have an episode. I tried to maintain my breathing, but the fast pace in my step didn't help. My hands were clammy, not that having them in my pockets helped.

Again, I had no idea where I was going. My eyes remained fixated on the ground. Therefore I was oblivious to the person hastily approaching.

"Brianna, Jesus!"

Jujubee now stood in front of me with her hand on my shoulder. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.

"I said your name like 5 times, girl." Jujubee dropped her hand. Her eyes looked me up and down, "What happened? You're shaking."

I was?

"I…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my hair, "I need a cigarette or something."

Jujubee dragged me to the bus shelter, sat me down on the ground like we were still children, parking our behinds wherever the fuck we wanted.

Despite the feeling of anxiety burning my insides, I did spark up a cigarette, anything to shift my thoughts from the current state of my family. Just something normal.

"Girl, are you sure that's a good idea right now?" Jujubee was itching to snatch it from my hand and toss it.

Instead, I said, "Jujubee?"

"Yeah?"

Eyes still glued to the ground, I blinked, "This is it. He's dying."

Jujubee didn't even need to ask. She knew about his dementia for months now. I had no choice but to tell her. The stress from it all got too much, and I was becoming more and more irritable. It was unfair to put her through that. I had to tell her everything.

Jujubee shuffled closer, "What happened?"

I couldn't bring myself to even tell her. Words couldn't even begin to describe the feeling. That feeling of just grabbing him by the hand, and running away as far as possible, so this sickness would just leave us alone.

I blew out a long cloud of smoke, closing my eyes as I let my chest deflate.

There was something about this moment in time. 9PM, at the bus shelter, sitting on the cold ground, smoking a cigarette, Jujubee by my side, her hand now in mine. It didn't feel real. None of it did.

Yet this wasn't foreign to me - This bus stop was the same one from my childhood, that day when baby Blair and I hid from the rain. Funny how the younger version of myself thought I was protecting her from her abusive father.

As bad of a time it was, the thought was comforting in the current moment, sitting there with Blair. The only problem I faced those days was my emotional outbursts and the emotional toll they took on my Mom. Oh, how naive I was, completely unaware of how life could get any harder.

Only 3 weeks later, Grandpa was hospitalised, his immune system reaching its lowest point. I visited him every day after school. There were more moments of forgotten memory, but it made it less frightening with Mom by my side.

One day in particular, however, he seemed in better spirits. It was as if the old him was back, just for a few hours.

"I'm going to the soda machine. You want anything, baby?" Mom stood up from her chair, pulling her purse from her bag.

"I'm good." I gave her a gracious smile.

She nodded, taking another look at my Grandpa before she even moved to the door. I could see the reluctance behind her eyes. She did this every time she left the room, no matter where she was going.

My eyes followed her as she left. Grandpa spoke, "Now that she's gone, any update on that girl?" He asked. I looked back in surprise. How he had remembered that was mind-blowing. He continued, "we haven't had a one-to-one conversation in a long time, honey. Give me an update."

I breathed a sigh out, lifting my brows briefly. "Nothing has become of it, no."

"Go get her, kiddo. You've got nothing to lose."

I smiled sadly. Easier said than done, Grandpa.

He coughed. "Lord, I'd love a cigarette right about now. Do me a favour, though; please stop smoking."

I wasn't completely shocked. He had noticed on a few occasions that he was down a cigarette. "I will." I wasn't lying. But I wasn't making any promises either.

"Brianna?" Grandpa looked at me now.

"Yeah?" I put my feet up on his bed, leaning back in my chair.

"Promise me one thing?"

"Of course."

His eyes remained on me, and he smiled briefly. "Promise me that you'll find a way to the other world. Could you do that for me?"

I had to admit, It was a huge thing to ask of someone like me. It was terrible to say, but I couldn't help but feel this was sort of selfish. Yes, he was on the brink of death, but how could he expect me to be such a miracle worker.

Instead of protesting, however, I just said, "Sure."

Two days later, he passed away.

I didn't cry at all, vowing that I would remain strong for Mom. I had already had my turn at grieving my own parents. And she was by my side for all of that.

Now it was my turn to be there for her. Throughout the whole funeral, I had my arms wrapped around her shoulders, like she had done for me throughout the years. It was a strange feeling - being the one to take care of her for a change. Her head on my chest, hand squeezing mine, it was just so hard to accept.

I almost thought she was going to crumble when they lowered his casket into the ground.

As I said before, there are two types of people in this world; those who hate the sight of their Mother crying and fucking liars.

Because, even though she was my Mother, she was his little girl. And losing a parent is losing a huge part of your life.

Everyone was invited back to the house after the funeral in the hopes the togetherness would lighten the mood.

Of course, it didn't fix everything, but it did allow us some time to breathe.

"You OK, Brianna?" Aunt Monét asked as I handed her some tea.

"I'm fine." Obviously, that was a lie.

I really did think I was doing everyone a favour by putting up the strong front. Little did I know the toll this would take on my own emotional well being. That whenever Grandpa came up in conversation, I'd run. If only I had realised that sooner.

I was afraid of questions like Monét had asked. So school would be a nightmare. Thankfully I was granted 2 weeks off.

The first week I lay in bed, watching box sets of The X Files. Pretty sure I almost gave myself a bladder infection from just laying there too long.

The second week, I finally decided to stop lying around and be useful. Mom recommended I break out the telescope one night. So I invited Jujubee over. I warned her beforehand that she was not to ask me any concerning questions or treat me any different. Of course, she was different with me. But she didn't ask any questions. We just carried on, looking up at the stars through the telescope.

The same week, I also found myself sitting in his room, feeling his presence very much there with me. So I took to reading his books out loud in the hopes I could keep his spirit entertained.

However, I only became interested in the books myself. I read one book. Then another. And another. And another. Fiction and non-fiction. All based on parallel universes. I couldn't get enough of it.

And reading turned into studying - taking notes, hypothesising, questioning.

And then I got Jujubee interested. Just 4 weeks after beginning, it was more than just a hobby. It was a prospect.

-_-_-_-

2020

"Miss. Caldwell. Miss Caldwell, ma'am."

I snapped back to reality, embarrassed that I had even blacked out at all. You'd think I'd know there were more important things at stake, now that I was in the presence of the Secretary of Defence, at a meeting in the middle of an almost empty hangar. Everyone around me, my team included, were important people. I needed them to believe I was on the same level as they were.

"Yes, the atmosphere of the other world," I said, hoping he would think I was listening.

"We're beyond that point now, actually." The General pointed out, standing with his hands behind his back. I couldn't lie. I felt intimidated by him, what with the uniform and all.

I glanced at his black badge, which matched mine. Did that mean I was a general like him now? Were we even on the same level? 'Cause when I woke up that morning, I tripped over my own feet and almost hit my head off the ground. I couldn't be on this guy's level.

"I asked if this place would be big enough for the construction of the rocket." He asked.

I looked around at the wide space. Yeah, it was huge, but when it came to constructing a rocket, that was all beyond me. Sure, it would probably take a good 3 minutes to walk from one end to the other. But was it high enough? I had no idea what I could even say to this guy. "Yeah, it's good."

I hoped it would be good.

"Then it's yours." He gave a quick smile. It didn't make me feel any less intimidated. He began pointing out different sections of the place, a small lab in one corner, offices in another, along the left wall was a cafeteria, and 4 sets of surprisingly clean bathrooms.

All this space, it was mine. And only an hour after the meeting with the General, we were already shipping equipment over.

"This is wild. You could fit two concert halls in here." Jujubee slipped an arm around my shoulders, the pair of us watching as a truck pulled into the hangar, carrying more gear.

I blew a sigh of relief out through my mouth. "I just can't believe this is happening. Like, why me, of all people? When do good things ever happen like this? Like, didn't I always say 'why do bad things happen to good people?'"

Jujubee laughed, "girl, good things DO happen to you. You have a luxury apartment in New York, you're filthy rich, you're a celebrity." She playfully punched me in the arm.

"Well, you're not wrong." I shrugged.

"You deserve every bit of this." She turned to get a better look at me. "You fought for so long to get people on board with this project. You continued on when people doubted you when they laughed. I think you deserve good things to happen to you."

I smiled bashfully, looking to the ground for a brief moment, "Aw, Juju," looking back to her, she lifted a hand and held my cheek. Naturally, I would have shied away, but not now. At this moment, I absolutely adored this bitch. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"I know. You've told me." She pinched my cheek before looking away.

Her hand fell by her side, so I took it in mine. "No, really. You think I would have continued without you here? You remember all those times I wanted to give up? All the times you called me out on my bullshit?"

"Hey, somebody had to do it." She shrugged in return yet swung my hand.

"That's very true." I looked at her for a moment longer. Only now did I notice the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, how cute that was.

Her eyes moved around the large space again. "Think we could fit a Starbucks in here?"

I pulled my gaze away from her, also having another look around. "Girl, you could fit fucking 10 Starbucks in here." I raised a brow in her direction then. "Should I?"

She laughed as she continued to swing my hand like we were just children again. Honestly, that's what I felt like; A small child in her own Kingdom.

[curious-minx]

October 2010s Music Deep Dive!

A mock up poster for the only possible music festival line-up I would be willing to risk my life attending. Tony Allen’s passing has caused the entire Octoberfest to be cancelled indefinitely, but all proceeds from ticks will be given back to the community. 

Hope all of you special nobodies and overblown somebodies reading this right now are having a smashing start your first o November. All last month I had taken it upon myself to listen to as many albums and fragments of albums released sometime during the month of October spanning the entire 10’s decade, 2010 through 2019. This is all probably a result of drinking too much dead water, Quarantine brain, undiagnosed Autism, magical thinking and the death of boredom. I have created a Spotify playlist sporting 25 hours and 4 minutes worth of music with an arbitrary amount of albums getting multiple songs, but largely one song/album. This project did create a sense of madness because of the volume of music that gets cranked out. How can we expect anyone to properly criticize music when it is nearly impossible to keep up with it all? I largely culled these albums from Allmusic’s Editorial Choice section, but I did have to use Rateyourmusic to fill out the hip-hop and R&B gaps. In gathering up all of this music I am attempting to see if spooky music was relegated to the October season and any other possible trends. Even though October has been laid to rest her swelling calendar breast still contains a treasure trove of music worth discussing. Grab your broom, sharpen your heels and get the cobwebs out of your ears because we’re going on a Deep Dive! 

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The 2010s Old Souls and Musical Auteurs 

I consider any musician or band that endures more than a decade worthy of this veteran label. Music biz lifers seem found solace in the October release schedule. A trend that has carried onto the new decade with October 2020 offering revitalized releases by Elvis Costello and Bruce Springsteen reunited with the E Street Band. All three main members of Sonic Youth, Moore, Gordon and Renaldo are still harnessing that spooky Bad Moon Rising energy and carrying it over into their solo releases. 

KIM GORDON’s NO RECORD HOME

The first truly proper solo album by Kim Gordon following up her pretty good noise rock releases under the Body/Head moniker with Bill Nace. No Record Home towers over Thurston Moore and Lee Renaldo’s mostly okay solo releases because of how truly experimental and refreshingly modern sounding No Record Home is. This album sounds like it could easily have come out from a young Pacific Northwest Trip-Angle (RIP) label upstart. Instead, Gordon is defiantly aging gracefully and remains an all around important feminist voice in experimental rock music. No Record Home did not pop up on a lot of “Best of the Year” lists in 2019, nor did Gordon embark on any kind of touring for the release. I am hoping that more people will eventually discover this great album and realize that Gordon was truly the best, most truly experimental aspect of Sonic Youth. Her vocals on this album are the best she’s ever sounded because she built these songs and sounds with the intergral collaborator, producer Justin Raisen. A glimpse at Raisen’s Wikipedia page is a who’s who of great artists of the past decade: Yves Tumor, Charli XCX, and Sky Ferreira. The collaboration occurred at an AirBnB shared between Gordon and Raisen and birthed the first single of the project “Air BnB.” A song that completely sets the tone of the album and features one of those amazing music videos in the same line us Young Thug’s “Wyclef Jean. “

Björk - Biophilia

Can you name the last album the rolled out with its own app? Nine years have come and gone and I certainly can’t think of another album with such wholesome ambitions. Björk was getting passionate about ecological concerns in her native Icelandic home with Sigur Ros and using her sphere of influence to try to good. 2014 the app has found a permanent home in the MOMA, but outside of this curio status the album itself is still a worthwhile addition to the Björk canon. Biophilia finds Björk in musical scientist mode using sounds captured from a Tesla coil and making a whole musical universe onto herself. The rest of the 2010s found Björk going for bigger and more ambitious projects that continue to frustrate those who wish she would go back to her poppier roots. She remains one of those most consistent solo artists around and someone no one will be able to predict what she does next. The only thing is certain is that it will be visionary and will probably include a wildly ambitious rollout and a new piece of physical art like Biophilia’s $800 tuning forks.

NENEH CHERRY - BROKEN POLITICS

Featuring production duties for the second time from Four Tet (who also pops up in the October playlist with his 2013 album Beautiful Rewind). Broken Politics in Cherry’s words, “is about feeling broken, disappointed, and sad, but having perseverance. It’s a fight against the extinction of free thought and spirit.” The music video for single “Natural Skin Deep” was filmed in Beirut, a backdrop made even more painful given 2020’s Explosion. Cherry is an artist with deep spiritual and blood connections with artists central to jazz’s history. Broken Politics also features songs built around Ornette Coleman samples. This is all to say that Neneh Cherry is always going to be someone tapping into a creative cosmic vein that spans generations, and with that comes a hard wisdom. Two years later we’re still dealing with the same god damn guts and guns of history. 

OTHER NOTABLES:

(Cat Power - The Wanderer; John Cale - Shifty Adventures in Nookie Wood; Tony Allen - Film of Life ; Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Psychedelic Pill ;Bryan Ferry - Olympia; Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Ghosteen ;Yoko Ono - Warzone; Vashti Bunyan - Heartleap; Elvis Costello & The Imposters - Look Now; The Chills - Silver Bullets; Weezer - Everything Will Be Alright In The End;Laurie Anderson - Heart of A Dog;Janet Jackson - Unbrekable;The Mercury Rev - Light In You;  Rocketship - Thanks To You; Van Dyke Parks & Gaby Moreno - Spangled; Donald Fagen - Sunken Condos; Prefab Sprout - Crimson Red; Pere Ubu - 20 Years in a Montana Missile Silo; Negativland - True False )

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TRILOGY OF BLACKSTARS

Three last albums released by three titans of 20th century songwriting. Two of them follow the trajectory of an older artist getting rejuvenated by a younger backing band. Lulu is beyond a meme at this point and is considered one of the most confounding flops since Metallic Music. Like Metallic Music, Lulu will get a reappraisal and find its audience. Mr. Blackstar himself Bowie considered  Lulu one of his favorite releases. “Junior Dad” alone makes this album a worthy addition in Lou Reed’s discography. Scott Walker invited some similarly hairy and intense younger rock studs into his private castle and pulls off a far more natural combination. Soused fits like a velvet glove on a elegant corpse hand swirling thick slabs of guitar and demonic percussion. Scott Walker effortlessly orchestrates between elegance and moribundity whereas Lulu wallows and thrashes against  the ugly riffage. 

No riffs or oozing wall of sound are  anywhere to be found on the sparse and pointedly elegiac You Want it Darker. Leonard Cohen never went full on sleazy I’m Your Man ever again but he didn’t become adult contemporary either. You Want It Darker finds Leonard and his son Adam Cohen. When Leonard passed away he was the only one to get a full David Bowie like museum tribute, Lou Reed only got a corner of a library. Cohen is far and away the most accessible mystical Jewish Buddhist monk with a penchant for fedoras and having a masked man with a leather belt beat him in the recording booth [citation needed]. You Want It Darker is the only one of these mortality laden kiss offs to win a Grammy. I do wonder if Cohen would have ever allowed a more adventurous production to touch his staid and timeless old fashioned sound. Tom Scharpling divides Leonard Cohen into his Pre-Fedora and Post-Fedora days. If you are being literal about that demarcation that still gives you a pretty vast body of music I just want sad bloated blurry black and white Leonard Cohen with a banana or the smiling cad on Songs of Love and Hate. Even the floppy fedora era has worthwhile albums and he sounds like if Serge Gainsbourgh was a muppet Gargoyle, he’s reliable. I will always beat myself for not buying that official Leonard Cohen raincoat at the Jewish Museum Leonard Cohen exhibit, but I hope someone has and they are finding comfort with Cohen’s music. A lot of his latter day period is comforting in a sardonic sexy mind bending nursing home sort of way. 

I am glad that these men were ultimately spared from having to deal with Covid times and even someone as tasteless as Brian Wilson’s Ghost can acknowledge that it’s more important than ever to keep your elderly loved ones locked away in a well ventilated pod. 

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(INSERT ARTIST HERE) SEASON

For a few sticky sweet select few artists the month of October proved to be a suitable release launch pad for more than one album. The Mountain Goats and clipping. have just joined the October two-timer club this year. The reigning queen of October releases is Taylor Swift and Adrianne Lenker. In chronological order swift released Speak Now, Red and 1989 probably Swift’s biggest run in terms of critical and commercial success. None of these albums have a particularly big place in my heart, in fact speaking on behalf of Brian Wilson’s Ghost Ltd. I’m not the biggest fan of America’s Sweetheart, Sweet Tea Poet Laureate.  All three of these albums all came out in the latter part of October and based on the Target brand synergy roll-out felt as inevitable as pumpkin spice. Haunted. Sad Beautiful Tragic. Out of the Woods. These are either song titles taken from these three albums are the names of the under utilized Romantic Halloween Horror Comedy genre. Lady Gaga might have been spooking it up on American Horror Story, but Swift gives a far more chilling performance in Tom Hooper’s midnight madness of Cats and I could envision Swift excelling really well as a horror film actor. Especially in a role like Scarlett Johansson’s Under the Skin. 

You cannot get more polar opposite from Swift than Adrianne Lenker. Who released her first solo album abysskiss   and the second Big Thief album of 2019 Two Hands. Lenker will have also gone on to make her third October release this year with her second solo album songs & instrumentals. Striking that such a ghostly autumnal band would have only released one album in October, but autumnal feeling albums are not beholden to release calendars. The song “Not” from the Big Thief album Two Hands is a watershed breakthrough moment for the band and put Lenker and her band on the map. In 2019 Big Thief became a band that could get booked onto a Goodmorning American performance slot and more or less made Big Thief one of the rare 2010s indie bands to become more or less a household name. 

Other notable artists to have released more than one album on October 2010s:

Less notable artists to have multiple October releases: James Blunt Korn

Calvin Harris 

Kings of Leon

Pentatonix 

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FORMER HARBINGERS OF HYPE

These are October releases from artists that once felt like whenever they put out an album a wider array of outlets and publications seemed to care more and would spill more digital ink over them. The big three artists that had the biggest drop off in attention and acclaim that stick out to me the most are Titus Andronicus,  Justice and Why? All three artists debuted with strong starts back in the aughts, but according to critical reception more or less crashed and burned. Titus Andronicus’ Local Business was one of the last times Titus Andronicus would get positive marks from Pitchfork. Local Business a fun and shaggy follow-up to one of the most self-serious concept albums of the 2010s. 

Justice’s Audio, Video, Disco similarly is a follow up to a highly acclaimed album that set the bar high enough to doom Justice into never living up to the hype. Justice’s 2007 s/t heralded them as the next Daft Punk, but unlike those soulful and thoughtful robots Justice mainly wanted to make big ridiculous unfashionable synth prog rock. Audio, Video, Disco is simply cheesy fun and even though we live in a world better off without parties and gatherings this album helps you feel like you are in high-def IMAX monster mash on the moon. 

The leaves us with Why?’s Mump’s Etc. an album that already had the job of following up an already divisive follow up record Eskimo Snow. Why’s Alopecia is a really important 2008 indie blog rap album that helped thrust the online indie blogs into the hip-hop genre hybrid experimentalism. Why? would never make another universally beloved album again and with Mump’s Etc. ended up permanently in Pitchfork’s hate pit. In the original release review the Pitchfork writer essentially deems this album an act of “career suicide.” The whole review is essentially an assignation of Why?’s figurehead Yoni Wolf and taking him to task for all of his awkward lyrical blunders and the fact he is narcissistic enough to be a musician writing about his career in a meta fashion. Yet when I listen to Mump’s Etc. I am more or less enjoying Yoni Wolf’s personality and find the whole thing to be pretty charming. A perfectly serviceable 3.5/5 release that a media outlet like Pitchfork turns into a flexing opportunity to show how that they have the power to make or break a career. 

A.C. Newman, an artist who appears on this playlist with his terrific 2012 Shut Down The Streets took to Twitter to scoff at the idea that a good Pitchfork review has done anything for his career. Shut Down The Streets currently remains the last solo album Newman has released under his name choosing to focus on his main gig with the New Pornographers. The Internet based hype machine is even more ADHD addled and twitchier by the day. The joy of doing this deep dive allowed me to revisit a lot of these artists and acts that I had fallen out of touch with. I had completely forgotten about King of Convenience’s Erlend Øye who released the album Legao in 2014. I rediscovered a good deal of bands like the Editors, The Dodos, Kisses, Black Milk, Crocodiles, Empire of the Sun, Juana Molina, Jagwar Ma, Here We Go Magic, Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr., YACHT, Peaking Lights, The Twilight Sad, Elf Power, Swet Shop Boys, Radio Dept, Allo’ Darlin, Foxes In Fiction, and HOMESHAKE are all bands not trying to change the world or challenge listeners with avant garde experimentation. Instead I feel like I maintaining relationships with old friends on the edge of obscurity. 

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A HISTORY OF CHRISTMAS IN OCTOBER 

A tradition stretching back as far as 2014 not October’s Idina Menzel’s Holiday Wishes, but Seth McFarland’s Holiday For Swing sweatily released on CD, digital, and vinyl on September 30, 2014.  2015 then brings us a Chris Tomlin and Ru Paul Christmas albums because every force of Neo-liberal good must be balanced with evangelical contemporary Christian music *shutters.* 2016 finds the Christmas in October era reaching a complete and utter nadir with R. Kelly’s final official LP 12 Nights of Christmas and A Pentatonix Christmas, but also buffered by Kacey Musgrave’s Christmas. 2017 only had time for Gwen Stefani’s You Make It Feel Like Christmas and no one else could evoke this feeling in October. On 2018, Michelle and Barack Obama’s combined one and only Christmas wish comes true, no not cancelling those drone strikes, but getting John Legend to join the October release jamboree; Eric Clapton claps open his guitar’s butt cheeks and hatefully squats out a half assed Xmas album defiantly opening the album with “White Christmas” [eyeroll emoji]; and finally 2018 found the Pentatonix announcing in October that Christmas Is Here. I apologize for all of that crude butt talk about the hateful racist Eric Clapton, but(t) I have festive gluteus Maximus on the mind, because in 2019 Norah Jones got her alternative country gal trio back together to remind us to shake our Christmas butts. Eat shit commercial shit, today’s Santa’s birthday! That’s the magic of the October release schedule! 

The hallowed Christmas in October tradition continues on in 2020 with Dolly I-Beg-Thee-Pardon  releasing A Holly Dolly Christmas right on time on October 2, 2020 (Carrie Underwood missed the memo and unwraps her unwanted My Gift in September 2020). Meghan Trainor, Goo Goo Dolls, and Tori Kelly released Christmas albums. Can you believe Seth MacFarlane comes up twice in this article, because his sleazy J. Michigan Frog croon is processed and grated like Parmesan cheese snow flakes all over a rendition of White Christmas.  What a time to be alive! 

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WHERE DID THEY GO?

A Brief Case For Class Actress’s Rapproacher

Among my October music travels I encountered one artist that really impressed me with her proper LP debut Rapprocher. The trio fronted by Elizabeth Vanessa Harper is essentially peddling the kind of competent moody 80’s inspired synth pop that belongs on a lost Donnie Darko sequel. Harper’s vocals are striking and expressive and they are melded with constantly propulsive bed of shiny synths and glossy barely-there gated percussion. Outside of an 2015  EP called Movies featuring exciting production contributions from Italo-disco icon Giorgio Moroder there has been nothing else from Class Actress. Highly recommend you check them out especially if you want to find the sweet spot between Chromatics and Kylie Minogue. 

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THE OCTOBER 2010s MASTERPIECES 

(Robyn - Honey, Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva is a Mighty Long Time  ,Miguel -  Kaleidoscope Dream, Crying - Beyond The Fleeting Gale , M83 Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming ,SRSQ - Unreality, Sufjan Stevens - age of adz, Joanna Newsom - divers, VV Brown Samson and Delilah, Kelela - tear me apart , Neon Indian - VEGA Intl., Fever Ray - Plunge , Antony and The Johnsons - Swanlights (goodbye album) , Caroline Polachek - Pang , Sky Ferreira - Night Time, My Time . Bat For Lashes  Haunted Man, James Ferraro - Far Side Virtual , Grouper -  Ruins , Kero Kero Bonito -Bonito Generation , DJ Rashad - Double Cup)

Maybe if I surround this VV Brown album with more well known artists she’ll finally get some more clicks? I should also mention that Joanna Newsom’s Divers is nowhere on my Spotify October Music playlist because Joanna Newsom thinks Spotify is bananas, and she hates bananas. I know I should also mention Kendrick Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city and Tame Impala’s Lonerism. That’s the maddening thing about October music that just when you think you covered all your ground you find another hidden hump underneath the carpet.  I feel remiss without mentioning striking debut and instant hidden gem Tinashe’s Aquarius, which did you know has a new album art on Spotify. Death Grip’s No Love Deep Web. T_T I didn’t even get around to making a big verbal mosaic to Thom Yorke’s witchy Suspiria soundtrack.Corpus Christi! I forgot to highlight The Orb album in the collage with my other veteran artists!  As you can see this project nearly ruined me. I did not necessarily listen to all of these albums from front to back, but I did listen all of the songs on the playlist and chose them from the immense collection of October releases. I am pretty sure this is the kind of content for no one in particular but I really needed to get it out of my system. Let’s meet back up October 2030!!!!!

(Thank you to my beloved partner, best friend and Spotify provider Maddie Johnson XD)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7sdLaNNaqWpKEKXRZ3jNqY?si=SLZxUwLMQYOQ5wA1xuZc7w

[jackednephi]

Hello! Apologies for sending in an ask so late. I just wanted to reach out because I'm not in such a great place right now. I was wondering, if you found out about your being queer at a fairly young age, how you managed to stay in the closet?? (And, you know, remaining alright, mentally) my parents are extremely homophobic, and it's tearing me apart, especially because I really care about them. Any advice would be great, even if it's not much. Best of luck in everything, and thank you so much ♥️

so tumblr doesn’t always let me know when i have messages >(

that said, i’ll do my best to respond but like it’s going to be long and convoluted so imma include a cut to save dash space. PLEASE KEEP IN MIND i am polyamorous, agender/trans, pansexual, and demiromantic. so like there are various facets of my queerness and they all played into my life differently

feel free to skip close to the end for like “how to stealth” if you don’t have the spoons for like a 20 page autobiography with annotated bibliography

so finding out about being queer is a question that has both a yes and a no answer. it’s more like i was experiencing queerness but didn’t have words for it, then repressed it, then dealt with it. so it’s less “i knew ever since i could form words to describe it” and more my journey was in no way linear

see when i was little, like really little yknow when you start getting your first crushes right around prek and stuff, i had all kinds of crushes. i had crushes on multiple people at once and this has continued straight into adulthood. so, like, sign one of being poly. my friends would have one person they would hardcore crush on whereas i was crushing on people around me, characters in fiction, just like so many people. i remember listing crushes in my journals every now and then and i’d have lists of upwards and over like 20. :/ so i am in no way surprised i’m poly

so far as my sexuality, i didn’t realize i was feeling for certain female friends what i was feeling for boys. partly because i’d be like “oh i want to hold his hand” and because i saw m/f couples holding hands all the time i was like ah! yes! obviously romantic! but i never saw any f/f relationships so i didn’t make the connection that the hand holding wasn’t a friend feeling. i had INTENSE crushes on girls too, just as intense as on boys. but i was used to the media portraying rival nonsense like hannah montana and whatnot so i was like “oh. this is my situation”

there was also a lot of repressing going on because i just didn’t see that reflected around me from media to adults. all i saw were m/f relationships. i knew gay people existed but i thought they were all gay men. when i was somewhere around like 10 or so, give or take, i realized i was crushing on my best friend at the time (a girl) and was like “no. absolutely not” shoved that as far back as possible and ignored it

my demiromanticism is more born of trauma than me being born that way and that’s ok. one of my close friends found out about one of my crushes in the second grade and i was RELENTLESSLY bullied for it. every time i got a crush on somebody, i would end up HARDCORE bullied or they would get weird and things would be awful. i also had boys shove their crushes onto me and not take no for an answer. like i’d have my bra snapped painfully, bugs shoved down my shirt, my stuff vandalized, hair pulled just because i wasn’t interested

like when i was 12, somebody started a rumor that i was pregnant :/ and that’s not even covering my abusive ex or the sexual assaults so like everything kind of came together for that

then there’s my gender. which is its own bucket of worms and kind of played in with my sexuality in certain ways

my parents are boomers, born in 50 and 58. “but vann,” you say, confused “you were born at the end of 94″ and you are correct! i inherited pcos from my mother so i’ll let you put 2 and 3 together as to why i was born in 94 and my brother in 96. i say that because, unlike their peers, they raised my brothers and i radically different from the accepted cultural norms

if i wanted to wear baggy shorts, that was cool. pretty dresses? whatever. same (kind of) went for my brothers. if they wanted to spend a lot of time on their appearance, that was fine and not shamed at all. in fact, it was encouraged because it made them feel good. i played with army men, barbie dolls, cars, a train set, tools, swords, sports stuff, had tea parties with stuffed animals, drew and crafted, etc etc. my younger brother played house with me (and often suggested it himself) and would play with my baby dolls. like had my younger brother wanted a doll, they would’ve gotten it for him. but i had them so he didn’t bother asking for one cause he could borrow mine

so like there was no gender segregation of toys or activities. and that sounds kind of like the bare minimum of parenting but you have to remember that both of my parents grew up in the rural south as boomers. gender roles were violently enforced for them. but they didn’t think about enforcing them for us so far as play and, to a certain extent, dress/grooming was concerned. this created a safe environment for us to be our true selves

so for a very long time, i was comfy saying i was a girl. i played basketball after school and then afterwards would find my prettiest dress and watch scooby doo. gender expression was fast and loose in my house

i contribute that a lot to the fact that my father was too disabled to work. even before then, he had been a nurse and a damn good one. my father has ALWAYS been the go to for when we were sick, injured, etc. my mother had this disconnect with how much concern to show. it was either too much or not enough and was pretty much never helpful. even after retiring, when my nephews came around he was the go to caretaker for them. even now at 70, he frequently goes back to where the children are during family gatherings and keeps watch. much like a mother hen

so he stayed home and did the cleaning and other “wifely” duties. not cooking though because his brain just cannot. my mother worked as a high school teacher so typical roles were entirely reversed. when i was tiny and wanted nothing more than to be a parent? you go, sweetie! when i was older and wanted to be a scientist? achieve your dreams, kiddo! like they were very supportive of my goals no matter what they were

so i just??? didn’t realize????? until i hit puberty somewhere around 9

talk about body dysphoria. i went from looking like my brother and every other kid my age to wow ok there’s hair now??? and my face is all weird???? and oh no why does my tummy feel funny?????????? (sexual arousal was a TRIP to discover as a third grader that i would not wish on any child ever) oh my god WHAT IS ON MY CHEST!? and grown men are hitting on me now??? oh no i’m in fourth grade and bleeding!?

it was not a fun time by a long shot. i started wearing the baggiest tshirts i could possibly find. anything to hide my freakish body, really. so many hoodies. i would swing wildly between hyper feminine expression with tight clothes and heels and hiding everything as much as possible. part of me was smug about being ahead of my peers, for adults to be treating me as more than a kid. but a LOT of me felt like a freak

maturing (mentally) into an adult was a wild experience. i was 13 and looked like i was 21 except for my face. i did everything possible to find comfort with myself from goth/emo expression ro masculine stuff people threw “dyke” at me for and then finally, weaponized femininity. tight tops, tight pants, shortest skirts i could get away with, eyeliner so sharp it could cut god, heels as often as i could including uniform days, perfect hair. i made myself look like a hot, unapproachable goddess

finally, people were too intimidated to approach me and comment on my appearance. i wore makeup like a mask and people who had known me for YEARS were surprised to find out just how big my chest really was. but i walked with murder in my eyes and i was finally treated the same was i was before puberty - completely unapproachable

ALL THAT IN MIND, here’s how i figured my shit out

i was on facebook seeing “gay, straight, black or white, marriage is a civil right” and being typically “it’s a sacred ordinance shyaddap” about it. i ended up on tumblr about idk 15 or so? note, i’d already discovered porn by this time so i was aware that lesbians existed. like just to throw that out there that i wasn’t like totally in the dark when i made my tumblr account. i did it for school to blog about shakespeare for an english assignment. and that’s when my world expanded

bisexual? wow ok! that was a thing! and oh. oh no

there were pretty girls

and pretty boys and pretty people whose gender i had no idea. cosplayers cosplaying as the opposite gender, trans people, and a whole rainbow of people i was suddenly finding attractive. and i had a HARDCORE identity crisis

i liked girls? but was it the same as boys? was i bisexual? that didn’t seem to fit. there was more than two genders right? and trans people existed? bi? was i bi? bi?

bi. probably

but it didn’t feel comfortable like at all. but i discovered a fanfic writer who talked about being pansexual and i looked it up and everything just clicked?? into place????

not to be overdramatic or anything but it was like the stars finally aligned. it felt SO good! so many genders! and it meant all and aliens are a thing, right? who was i to say no to the possibility? but, more than anything, it felt comfortable. like a hug from my grandma. like home

i wanted to scream from the rooftops that i’d figured it out! i found myself! pansexual! I WAS PANSEXUAL! THAT WAS ME! HOME!

and then the reality of living in our society crashed down on me. i continued to talk about the guys i liked around my family but never EVER the girls. i hid my relationship with the person who eventually became my wife. to be fair, i’d hidden all my relationships prior cause i was an IDIOT and had been dating before 16. so that wasn’t hard. but what was was the breakup

previously, i’d been like “you remember that guy i like? he’s a jerk” or some other excuse to cry to my mother. but i couldn’t about cake. so i cried to my bff/twin/sister like i had everything else and moved on. and i just kind of shut up about it to everybody except those closest to me

except that hurt. here i was knowing i was queer and happy about it but people were being homophobic. i don’t know how often i cried myself to sleep after hearing about “those dirty f*gs” cause of the marriage thing. i ended up quietly coming out to my favorite teacher and she dismissed it as trauma response to my then recent sexual assault. she had seemed safe but that was her reaction so i shut up about it

up until, ironically, coming out day october 2011 just before turning 17 that next month. my mother and i were at chilis, she was being homophobic, and i screamed for the whole restaurant to hear that i was queer and the whole base found out. hard to stay closeted after that

i was pretty much out until college when i started going to church in a new place. i just didn’t talk about my sexuality. ever. period. and it was “easy” because i was dating guys. and pretty sure i was a cis woman. so i was stealth passing. and that was ok with me because i was out on campus, vocally and unapologetically

in high school, i dated a trans guy. he introduced me like in a personal way to transness, to binding. i knew i wasn’t a man but it intrigued me. and in college where nobody knew me, nobody knew me as femme fatale black widow i had a chance to explore my gender. i discovered that loose tshirts made me feel really good. as did other comfy things like shorts and sweats. sometimes i wanted to look fancy or felt like wearing a dress. really, i kind of reverted back to who i was in childhood

i felt weird when i heard my birth name. i’d gone by a nickname for so long, i just chopped off the y (vanny) to vann so it sounded more adult. it felt good. so i identified, tentatively, as nonbinary. it was around this time the trans dude i dated and i fell out with each other because he thought me playing around with my gender was like mocking his transness. or something. idk dude was toxic trash

so i wasn’t male or female then? nah that didn’t feel right. i wasn’t some third androgynous gender. but sometimes binding and passing as a man felt good and sometimes passing as a woman felt good. genderfluid then? was i a man who liked to wear dresses? no. didn’t feel right. made me uncomfortable

eventually, things clicked for me with agender the way they had with pansexual the fall of my third year of undergrad. stars aligned, the universe smiled upon me, and i was THRILLED. like gender euphoria is REAL and never before had i felt so comfortable in my own skin. i remember literally weeping with joy. like i’d been going with they/them/their for a couple years at that point

i came out to my parents about that one pretty shortly after realizing it because i was OVERJOYED. they’d been working on calling me vann for awhile at that point and the pronouns. i’ve since learned that so long as soebody has my name, 90% of the time i legit do not care what pronouns somebody uses. im aware that people perceive me differently and it’s fine. i mean neutral pronouns fill me with euphoria but like it’s fine. so long as somebody doesn’t mistake me for cis

my parents are like so great about it now. they correct people who deadname me (except my grandma cause she’s like 85 and i gave her permission years ago) and my mother straight cut contact with family members who refuse to respect me. except my brothers but like she makes it clear whenever they’re going to be awful that she WILL NOT tolerate it. like they don’t dare trash me in front of our father. he’s old now but he will backhand one of my brothers for that and they know it. so they try it with our mom and she’s like “try it again and you won’t hear from me until you apologize for trashing your sister”

i realized i was poly when cake came back into my life. that was a serious mess involving their abusive ex girlfriend but we clicked and it ended up working so yknow. that was my easiest coming out actually. my parents were like “yknow, you always seemed to love people when you were a kid. and you had SO many crushes. makes sense” which was awesome. it was the most difficult emotionally but  the easiest because i’d already come out twice before so it was whatever

the demi thing was discovered in therapy. and like it doesn’t have much in the way of impact like the other things do. so i never really came out about that? there wasn’t really a point? like i talk about it when it comes up but it’s just whatever. i honestly have no idea if i ever told my family?????

WITH THAT NONSENSE IN MIND, HERE’S HOW TO STEALTH AND BE OK MENTALLY

you said homophobic so im gonna assume you’re not straight. no idea about gender and, honestly, so far as gender goes i’ve seen it’s safer to lean into masculinity than it is femininity. so if you’re amab, i don’t really have tips or tricks for that as i’m afab. with being afab, lean into the tomboy aesthetic so you seem acceptably (safely) your assigned gender. i recommend fun lipstick and nail polish colors. sparkly nails did wonders for me honestly

but for like not straightness. that’s a tightrope that is but a gossamer thread to balance. like there are ways to stealth gender expression and feel affirmed but queerness is a different animal or it was for me

so i had AT LEAST one space in my life where i was 100%, unapologetically, loudly out. like i’m here, i’m queer and flying my rainbow flag and not at all sorry about it OUT. for awhile, it was just my very closest friends in the whole world. then it was tumblr. then i made a facebook for people irl i could trust. 0 family and 0 people who couldn’t be chill about it

like having a carved space for you to just be the authentic you, whatever that is. for me, that’s all this queer mess, the polycule that is my family, my faith, my absolutely foul mouth, my mental illnesses, my love of good coffee or a glass of wine every now and then as a rare treat, the good and the bad the ugly and the uncategorizable all together. the struggle with the word of wisdom AND the love of my spouses. all of that

it’s affirming to have this space where you’re yourself and people accept you for who you are rather than what gets your engine revving. but you’ve also got to try and stealth that into wherever you can. you want a dyke spike? go for it and say it’s a pixie cut. plaids are in right now which is a lowkey signal to other queers you’re a queer too no matter your gender. just depends on what shoe you pair it with and other queers will take notice while non queers will just think you’re trendy

it was also fun for me to get that pan flag aesthetic wherever i could. like blue/pink galaxy type eyeshadow that wasn’t too peacock flashy so it looked Hot without being Obvious and a pink lipstick and yellow nails. like it was subtle but i knew what was going on and it felt good. i did the same with rainbows but i had more to work with there. like i’d have an inconspicuous notebook where i’d paint/paste a rainbow on the inside cover so that it was Normal from the outside and BAM! GAY! on the inside. did that with highlighting my notes too

i just kind of stuck it everywhere i could possibly get away with. people were excited to see me go from emo to bring colors becuase “oh wow! you’re finally not sad!” lol no i’m just stealth queer over here

i also wrote SO MUCH queer fanfiction. i didn’t publish any of it just in case but i have notebooks full of stuff. i also rped with people as a way to live vicariously through characters. i also READ a lot of queer fanfiction actually. i saved all kinds of fanart and photo manipulations of certain pairings together. like i couldn’t be out so i could have fiction where others were

i also poured myself into hobbies. i fenced, did karate, learned japanese, participated in drama club, played in a band, took piano lessons, taught myself to draw, journaled, learned to cook, read amazing books, played video games, learned to sing. like i’m sure there are other things i’m forgetting? basically, if it was EVER covered in a young women’s activity pretty much anywhere in the world, i learned at least those basic skills. like i can embroider now even

so like that’s how i stealthed and stayed sane. i was also in therapy where i was out to whatever therapist i was seeing at the time which ABSOLUTELY helped. i also made like queer playlists i would listen to. like same love, i kissed a girl, born this way, etc that i would listen to when i needed to just sink into it. music in general is super cathartic and i’ve gotta say green day, acdc, evanescence, bon jovi, etc got me through some tough shit

i also yelled at god. i yelled at god a LOT actually. like i know we get told “pray for comfort” but sometimes you need to bawl your eyes out and just SCREAM at the almighty. dude can take it. he’s god after all. he can handle our anger. it isn’t disrespectful. like if you ever do cross a line, he’ll let you know. like your thoughts will hard stop. you’ll know

but empty your lungs screaming in pain. let him know it isn’t fair, you’re not happy. beg for relief from the nightmares you’re living. demand to know if or when it’ll ever get better. burn yourself out yelling and crying and fall asleep drenched in tears. then wake up the next day and live your life and you know what?

you’ll feel better. maybe not a lot sometimes and maybe everything is cool for once in forever. but it definitely helped me a lot. like dude listens and you WILL feel better even if the things around you dont get better. you get some strength to get through and be ok and it’s super helpful

but that’s what i got. also bear in mind that i came out to thousands of people by yelling at my mother in a restaurant when all the ships were in because everybody in said restaurant texted everybody they knew and my texts were flooded in like an hour of “DON’T TELL ME YOU CAME OUT TO YOUR MOM LIKE THAT OMG” and “you’re queer!?” so like

i’m not the best when it comes to stealth queering so take my advice with a grain of salt

[joco47]

"Mondays in Max."

Short present day Carol drabble. I know the title sucks lol. Enjoy! :)

........

It had been a particularly stressful day in Max already... and it wasn't even noon yet. I guess you could chalk it up to being a typical Monday in maximum security though, always something going on. Some D block junkie who hadn't had her fix in a few days got desperate while she was on janitorial duty. Somehow managing to sneak into Badisons cell and steal what she had failed to hide in one of C blocks usual hideouts. Carol was of course furious.

She chewed Badison's ass out. You knew to steer clear and not get in her way, unless you wanted to also be a victim of Carol's wrath. You hid out in your bunk after finding out what happened. Missing that mornings bridge game though, Carol came to find you.

"What the fuck you doing all holed up in here?" She inquired gruffly from the doorway.

Shrugging, you put down the book you were reading and responded "Heard you had some problems this morning and figured i'd keep out of the way."

"Yeah, that dipshit keeps fucking up and I'm cutting her off for good." She said, some of the anger dissipating.

"Come here." You said patting the spot beside you. "Come hide out with me for the rest of the morning."

Rolling her eyes, she somewhat reluctantly climbed up to the top bunk. Laying down you pull her to lay beside you on the side closest to the wall. Settling in to face each other, you give her a small smile and reach up to stroke her hair, the furrow in her brow slowly relaxing.

"I've already gotten a headache from this shit and the day is just starting." She grumbled.

Taking her glasses off and reaching over to place them on the window ledge, you motion to her and say "Roll over."

She quirks a brow at you in question but turns over anyway. Her back now facing you, you start to knead your fingertips into her back, hands attempting to work out some of the tension. She lets out a satisfied hum of approval as you work your way up to her shoulders and neck. Carefully moving her hair to the side you lean in and place a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck. You then pull her flush against you by the hip to spoon her, laying your arm across her waist and holding her tight.

Of course as soon as you get her relaxed and settled there's a knock and that irritating Bostonian accent at the door.

"Carol, we gotta talk, i think i found outta way ta get 'em back." She immediately starts rambling, obviously not taking in the situation.

Snapping up and almost knocking you from the bunk, Carol snarls with anger flashing in her eyes.

"Goddammit, step off Badison. I don't fucking care about getting them back. I care about you replacing the drugs you're dim witted self fucking lost." She spits out.

"Geez Carol, i'm sorry to interrupt ya little love fest. Didn't realize ya were dyking it up with ya girl in here." Badison mocked.

Carol bares her teeth at her then. Her lip curls in rage and she lets out a low growl like the alpha male of a wolf pack does in warning when another one of the pack oversteps its bounds.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." Carol says in a low menacing tone that sends shivers up my spine even though I'm not on the receiving end.

"Carol..." Badison tries again, taking another step.

Quickly intervening, really not wanting to deal with Carol shiving Badison this morning. You hop down from the top bunk, getting in her face.

"Are you deaf or just fucking stupid? She said get the fuck out, you take another step in here and i'll break your fucking ankle."

Looking over you for a moment, and then back to Carol, she decides two against one isn't worth it, and backs away with her hands in the air.

"Looks like ya found ya'self a little attack dog huh? Too bad she's more like a lap dog, no scarier than a chihuahua." She snarks at Carol one last time.

You stick you're foot out as she's backing away, causing her to trip and fall right on her ass.

"See? not so funny now that someones pulling the childish pranks on you?" You sneer at her as she looks up at you with a huff.

Turning away and climbing back up to the top bunk, letting her know you were finally done with her shit, she clambers out of the cell.

You take your place beside Carol again, sitting down next to her with her a satisfied smirk. She looks at you, smirking right back at you, anger seeming to have dissappeared.

"You're mighty fiesty when you need to be. Kind of hot." She grins wider.

"Nobody's going to talk shit about my woman and get away with it." You shrug like it's not a big deal.

Slightly smiling to herself she lays back down with her back facing you again.

"Now i believe i was getting a massage from you, you can continue." She commands.

Shaking your head with a slight chuckle, you happily oblige.

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 1: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains WandaVision Episode 1 spoilers, and potential spoilers for future episodes, the wider MCU, and Marvel Comics. We have a spoiler free review here.

Marvel’s WandaVision has finally arrived on Disney+! While two episodes kicked things off, there’s so much goodness (and weirdness) packed into each of the episodes that we’re just gonna go one at a time for now.

Here are all the Marvel, MCU, and classic sitcom Easter eggs we’ve found so far in WandaVision episode 1…

Sitcom Inspiration!

The episode takes most of its style and appearance from The Dick Van Dyke Show. The layout of the pair’s home is similar to that seen on the series. Wanda and Vision’s dynamic is also similar to that of Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore. WandaVision producers even reached out to Van Dyke before the series for “sitcom school.”

But that’s not the only classic sitcom that influenced the episode:

Wanda’s signature move seems to be to “snap” when doing her magic. It’s a fun little callback to similarly magical sitcoms like Bewitched (where Elizabeth Montgomery’s Tabitha would twitch her nose) or I Dream of Jeannie. And…ahem…we know who ELSE likes to “snap” right, folks?

Wanda being overwhelmed comedically by domestic duties as things spiral out of control feels very I Love Lucy.

The main thrust of this episode (Vision’s boss coming to dinner and Wanda scrambling to make something delicious) is a tried and true sitcom trope. Shows such as Bewitched, Three’s Company, and even The Simpsons have used the situation for comedic fodder over the years. It was most popular in the ‘50s and ‘60s timeframe that WandaVision is covering due to the more strictly defined gender roles. 

Arthur Heart’s wife Mrs. Heart is played by Debra Jo Rupp, who is essentially sitcom royalty. Perhaps best known for playing Kitty Forman on That ‘70s Show, Rupp has also appeared on Newhart, Family Matters, Seinfeld, Friends, and more.

The opening credit theme was written by EGOT-winners Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez.

The closing credits for the “show” portion look like those of I Love Lucy with the “satin pillow” background.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Who is Agnes?

Agnes (Kathryn Hahn) is the prototypical nosy sitcom neighbor, but her presence here and in future episodes feels very much like a nod to Agatha Harkness, a Marvel Comics character with deep ties to Wanda.

Watch everything Marvel and more on Disney+, right here!

“You’re awfully dense, aren’t you, Vision?” lol because Vision can manipulate his density.

Vision

For the moment, let’s set aside the question of how Vision is still alive and just go with the wacky flow of the episode, shall we?

“My husband and his indestructible head,” Wanda says when Vision walks into a plate. Unfortunately we know from Avengers: Infinity War that his head (or at least the Mind Stone inside it) is definitely destructible. 

“You’re awfully dense, aren’t you, Vision?” This is cute since Vision can manipulate his density. You can see this when he phases through the ottoman in the show’s opening.

Wanda

Wanda, what are you doing?

Vision dismisses Wanda’s behavior with his boss as a “traditional Sokovian greeting.” This is, of course, an acknowledgement of her MCU origins. Arthur’s response of “We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks” is a reference to the Red Scare of the ‘50s and ‘60s, which is the timeframe this episode is harkening back to. 

During dinner, you can see that the wine they’re drinking is called “Maison Du Mepris,” which translates to “House of Contempt.” More interestingly, it you just start with “House of” and leave the last word untranslated, you pretty much get “House of M.” There’s even that big M on the neck of the bottle, giving it a subtle touch. House of M is the big Marvel storyline where Wanda lost her mind and lost control of her powers, thereby transforming reality. Uh-oh…

The Toastmate 2000 (from Stark Industries) Commercial

We don’t have to tell you who Stark Industries is, right? But there’s some other fun stuff at work here…

The “toaster” looks a little like Vision, but also looks something like the Ultron-1 as it first appeared in the comics. But “toaster” was a derogatory term that was often thrown at Vision in the comics by humans who were suspicious of him, especially in the similarly suburban-set (and brilliant) Vision by Tom King and Gabriel Hernandez Walta.

On Battlestar Galactica, the Cylons (who were, like Vision, humanlike AI) were often referred to as “toasters” by their opponents.

The Final Shot

After the I Love Lucy style credits roll, we see the inside of a mobile command center, where a mysterious organization is monitoring the events of Wanda’s “reality.” The trailers for the show have already revealed that this is SWORD, yet another Marvel secret organization.

In the MCU SWORD is an acronym for “Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division” whereas in the comics it had a more cosmic mandate of “Sentient World Observation and Response Department.”

We wrote much more about SWORD here.

The Credits

The fact that each episode “ends” with fake sitcom credits before we get to the “real” credits for the series feels very much like a meta joke about Marvel’s storied history with post-credits scenes.

But the real credits seems to borrow the aesthetic from House of M. Mainly the way Wanda rearranges reality by breaking it down into block-like form. For example:

art by Joe Quesada, tm Marvel

Lingering Questions

At the moment, we can’t find any MCU significance for that August 23 date, or 8/23 or any variant of it. Worth noting that Marvel architect Jack Kirby was born on August 28, though. We just like to remind folks of that.

Vision works for “Computational Services” which doesn’t appear to be significant, but correct me if I’m wrong.

The fake magazine they read is called “Glamorous.” This shows up again throughout the series. Has it ever appeared elsewhere in the MCU?

Vision’s boss’ name is Arthur Hart. Is there any significance to this?

Do any of the names in the “fake credits” at the end mean anything to anybody?

Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s WandaVision Episode 1: MCU Easter Eggs and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3oPE4aX

[notbemoved-blog]

Books, Books, Books

Lists are all the rage at the end of any year and this plague year is no exception. Since I’ve read a fair number of books by friends this past year or so, I thought I’d send out my “Goodreads” reviews of all three books that I’ve enjoyed with the hope of giving each a bit more recognition (and perhaps a bump in sales) in the New Year. The reviews are presented in the order that I reviewed them. All three books are available on Amazon or through your local independent bookstore. Also try IndieBound, the online independent bookseller. 

[End of Year Note: My apologies for not being more active on social media lately. I’m working on my own follow up to “We Shall Not Be Moved” and have tried to stay away from all forms of distraction, including social media. With any luck, my next project, the story of the Tougaloo Nine Library Sit-In, will be on its way to the publisher at the end of 2021.]

And now, for our 2020 BOOKS, BOOKS, BOOKS!

Wave On: A Surfing Story by Michael E.C. Gery

(Amazon Digital Services, 2018, 432 pages, Autobiographical Fiction)

[Reviewed August 2019]

"A wonderfully adept stoner’s diary for the boomer generation."

I was thoroughly enchanted with “Wave On” from beginning to end. Even when I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going, the ride was exhilarating. Perhaps it was because I knew many of the places where the action takes place: Williamsburg, the Outer Banks, Annapolis, Ocean City, College Park, and even The Who concert back in 1971 [or was it ’70?] at Merriweather Post Pavilion, which I also happened to attend!! I read very little fiction but a fair amount of biography and memoir, and I must say that I rarely find a work of fiction that is as engaging and heart-driven as “Wave On.”

Part One is a pure, lovely, romantic love story that is contemporaneous with our early adulthood and, thus, easy for me to put myself in the shoes of Cro as he tries to navigate the strictures of young adulthood in a laissez-faire new world of the mid-1960s. The fact that he has been schooled at an Episcopalian Boys school and loves all of those old hymns and prayers makes it all the more real for me, having attended a 4-year Catholic high school seminary. Cro’s goofiness, uncertainty, and (initial) shyness around women also resonated.

What I loved about Part One is that Gery establishes a voice for Cro, the Narrator, that is immediate, engaging, alive, and consistent throughout the entire novelization of what I believe is Gery’s young adult life. (A new term I just picked up--“autofiction” i.e., autobiographical fiction--seems to apply here.) Cro is so normal in his struggles to understand how the world works, so honest in his mistakes, so in love with his environment—the ocean, the waves, the shore—that he makes us love them, too, perhaps a bit more than we already do. But it is that voice that intrigued me throughout. No matter what kind of scrape Cro and his interesting band of friends and lovers gets into, there is a confidence that they are up to the challenge. [I must admit that Cro’s drift during Part Two with regard to his professional aspirations and even his family life was a bit baffling, but I came to think that the weed had a lot to do with his lack of ambition and direction.]

Part Two, of course, gets a bit more complicated as real life intervenes and our little Love Couple begins to encounter troubles from within and without. I hated to see that and was certain that Cro was going to lose his wonderful Ella and Adam and couldn’t see my way through to how it all might resolve, particularly when Maryanne enters the picture and the Neil Young Concert kiss betrays a problematic (if not fatal) flaw in our hero. But I suffered through all of that, wanting to see how it all came out in the end. Although there was no deus ex machina, the surprising turn of events that helps resolve these dramatic arcs is shocking yet consistent. It all made narrative sense and helped explain why we were taken on so many to such a happy ending.

“Wave On” is a wonderfully adept stoner’s diary for our boomer generation. I can’t wait for Gery’s next work of autofiction to continue the journey with him. 

 Hard Road South by Scott Gates

(Blue Ink Press, 2020, 254 pages, Fiction)

[Reviewed, May 2020] 

“A little jewel box of a novel.”

 “Hard Road South” is a little jewel box of a novel set during the early days of Reconstruction Virginia. This beautifully rendered tale imagines a naïve Connecticut Yankee—a former Union soldier—who travels South to visit and potentially settle in some of the lush foothills of the Shenandoah Valley where he once engaged the Confederate “enemy”. Hoping to find peace while helping to reform a culture that wishes to be left alone, our hero, one Solomon Dykes, finds fast friends but also fast enemies amidst the verdant pastures of his would-be Old Virginny Home.

An early scene sets the tone: A down on her luck woman is stopped in the town of Middleburg—the place that would become the enclave of the likes of millionaires John and Jackie Kennedy and Jack Kemp Cooke a century later—by some Union soldiers still on the scene occupying this “foreign” land to ensure compliance with Union directives. Her transgression? Wearing the Confederate uniform jacket of her dead husband. The three Confederate buttons on the jacket must be removed or she will be arrested and charged with treason. Such is the over-reach of conquering heroes.

Our damsel in distress is aided by the swift thinking of one Jeb Mosby, a local farmer, who pulls out his knife and gently removes the buttons so as to spare his life-long neighbor the embarrassment of arrest. “Such was life now,” Mosby observes. “Filled with reminders—small as they may seem—that life would not soon be returning to how he’d left it before the war.” It is small observations such as this that gives this book its charm and its weight. Representations of what life must have been like for the conquered South are constant reminders that the likes of Solomon Dykes were not at all welcome and most likely would be rebuffed should the opportunity arise. Scott Gates is new to novel writing, but you wouldn’t know it from his sharp eye for detail and his pacing. Gates gives his story and his characters plenty of room to breathe and develop while providing the reader with glimpses of the specifics of their war-torn lives. A Southerner by birth, Gates offers a sensibility of one trying to bridge the great divide while not shying away from the difficulties building that bridge might require. This is a tale for our time, as well, as our nation is once again fraught with deep divisions perhaps not seen since the ending of that great Civil War more than 150 years ago. We are stuck and unable to move forward until some fundamental rift gets settled. “Hard Road South” is a highly readable, thoroughly enjoyable yet cautionary tale for our time. Perhaps we can learn from the past and this time get things right. Perhaps … 

 Small Business Big Heart: How One Family Redefined the Bottom Line by Paul Wesslund

(Highway 61 Communications, 2020, 242 pages, Nonfiction)

[Reviewed, August 2020]

“Big-hearted Book Teaches That Care for Others = Good Business”

In the midst of a global health crisis—the worst we’ve seen in generations—and while we struggle as a country, as a people, to find our footing morally and culturally during a reductio ad absurdum political creep show, Small Business BIG HEART lands as a corrective, a balm to soothe frayed nerves and intemperate minds. That is not to say that this big-hearted book is pablum. No, the stories it brings are all too real—people who often have lost their way through drugs, alcohol, and bad choices; refugees who have fled horrific circumstances and are looking only to start a new life but can’t due to the stigma of being different; and one family in particular that is faced with its own dissolution as well as the loss of its dream of a thriving family business. The high-stakes rollercoaster ride that journalist Paul Wesslund takes us on is dizzying not only for its incredible highs and sometimes tragic lows, but also because it introduces a concept too often forgotten … no, disregarded … in modern business life—what corporate governance experts would call “the duty of CARE.”

Sal and Cindy Rubino are two hard-working business owners who, through the course of their trials and tribulations, manage to hold on to the dream of a creating their own business from scratch while also enduring the inevitable personal strains that such a dream exacts. The two met and fell in love while working toward Hospitality Management business degrees in Miami, but the real story starts when they try and apply the lessons of their training in the difficult day-to-day drudgery of actually running their own restaurant—simply named “The Café”—in an offbeat, run-down section of Louisville, Cindy’s hometown. It is here that their skills and wills are tested to the limits and each will have to adjust their visions to fit the realities not explored in textbooks. And it is here that their hearts will be broken, and then opened to the truths that adaptability and innovation can be applied not only to recipes and business models, but to the very people you employ and the methods you use to build a team for success.

Along the way, we meet all manner of broken individuals. The restaurant business is notorious for laying waste to lives due to its thankless dawn-to-dusk hours and the constant requirement to please the customer at all costs. Wesslund has an expert’s eye for the telling detail and the wrenching story line. [I found myself tearing up at any number of stories throughout this engaging, nonfiction tale.] His twenty years as editor-in-chief of Kentucky Living, the largest circulation monthly magazine within the state, shows in the well-drawn portraits of individuals from as far away as Bhutan and as near as Pricilla’s Place, a half-way house just a few blocks from the Café, where Cindy and Sal would find some of their best employees. Perhaps Wesslund’s (not to mention the Rubinos’) refusal to judge people by the standards of upwardly mobile middle-class values but instead, with extraordinary discernment, to look deeper into their souls to spot their special sparks and unique talents is the hallmark of this extraordinary book.

It is rare outside of evangelical circles to find a book that so openly espouses Christian principles, but Sal and Cindy make no bones about the fact that their faith community helped to save their marriage as well as their business, and Wesslund recounts the strength of those relationships and the power of religious inspiration with rare delicacy. Yet the book is not all seriousness and drama. We get, of all things, recipes (!) at the start of nearly every chapter—a creative way of introducing a new topic or the next development of this constantly churning story. And we are introduced to Cindy’s creative cooking style, to Sal’s winning smile and to their gracious, open approach to hospitality.

Small Business BIG HEART runs the gamut of the small business life cycle. It is a soup-to-nuts (literally) primer on the ups and downs of small business management. As such, it is tough medicine for anyone daring to think of creating their own start-up. Given that, however, it provides a deeply affecting microcosm of how we as a society—as a culture—might live if we, indeed, saw everyone we encountered as a member of our own family. It does not skimp on the tough decisions that must be made to keep a business afloat—the “tension between compassion and the bottom line”—but it provides a template on how to “run a business with heart”—where everyone can be a winner.

Wishing you a New Year full of new books, new ideas, new opportunities, new promise. 

[oracleoutlook]

I'm not super conservative, but I am CRT-skeptical so I will try to steel man it for you.

The New York Times was not impressed with CRT back in 1997. The NYT defined it as the theory that "there are competing racial versions of reality that may never be reconciled." This theory has its roots in Law, but has quickly spread to other academic areas.

One major problem with it in America is that CRT is fundamentally illiberal, and we are a country founded on liberal ideals and ruled by a liberal bill of rights. The idea that jurors should vote to acquit someone based solely on the defendant's skin color is very illiberal and is discordant with many people's understanding of civic duty. Jury nullification because the law is unjust is one thing, voting to acquit because the law is unjust AND the person's skin color is similar to your own (implying people of other skin colors would be convicted) is another.

Law Professor Suzanna Sherry, criticizing the theory in 1997, said ''The problem with denying any objective reality is that there is no way of mediating among the competing perceptions of reality except power. And what they ultimately want is more power for their perceptions.''

Do schools teach CRT? Not in the sense that Law Schools do. But to say that elementary students are not learning CRT because they do not study the theory directly is like saying that elementary students are not learning Common Core because they are not taught Common Core directives. Many subjects like Science, History, and Literature are taught through a CRT lens.

Future educators learn CRT at a Masters and PHD level, internalize the theory, assume it is the correct way to look at the world, and pass that on. It's not something they could even control if they wanted to, I think. All the laws being passed is like the Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke.

We can see the downstream effects of how CRT is being applied in schools. One thing to keep in mind is that a prospective teacher who graduates at the bottom of their class still graduates and becomes a teacher. I'm not saying that all educators who were taught CRT when getting their doctorate are applying it correctly 100% of the time. These examples could just be an example of a C+ student trying and failing to apply their knowledge.

This woman was discriminated against by her college for being white and was not permitted to do things which someone of another skin color would have been allowed to do, setting back her career.

I can no longer continue to work in an environment where I am constantly subjected to additional scrutiny because of my skin color. I can no longer work in an environment where I am told, publicly, that my personal feelings of discomfort under such scrutiny are not legitimate but instead are a manifestation of white supremacy. Perhaps most importantly, I can no longer work in an environment where I am expected to apply similar race-based stereotypes and assumptions to others, and where I am told — when I complain about having to engage in what I believe to be discriminatory practices — that there are “legitimate reasons for asking employees to consider race” in order to achieve the college’s “social justice objectives.”

This presentation was used to prepare teachers at a school district on teaching their students to be culturally competent.

I think the root cause of a lot of the push back is that equality, color-blindness, and respect for people as individuals is the ethical and moral system that Gen X and the first half of Millennials were raised with. Their conscience was formed under these fundamental values. They are terrified that their children are being indoctrinated into a theory that is opposed to their own values and that this will cause their children to be racist according to the parent's own understanding of racism. White parents are worried that their children will be taught that they are inherently evil. POC parents are worried that their children will be taught they are inherently incapable.

That's all without getting into the forced speech/censorship angle of things. No one is permitted to be a conscientious objector - there is no morality allowed outside this new paradigm, to be outside this theory is to be immoral according to its adherents. This adds a lot of the heat and fear to the debate.

CRT isn’t like, evil. pretty sure most conservatives angry with the concept can’t articulate what it means.

[schraubd]

On Asking Jews To Be More Anti-Nazi

The second job I wanted to be when I grew up was a cartoonist (the first was omelet chef at a Marriott. Little kids have weird goals). I loved Calvin & Hobbes, and later Dilbert, Doonesbury, Foxtrot, The Boondocks, and many others. My ambition, alas, quickly foundered against the reality that I have no artistic talent whatsoever. But occasionally I still draw cartoons in my head (where their artistry and technical virtues are unimpeachable). My most recent imagined cartoon is set in Auschwitz, 1944, where a portal opens up and a time-traveler steps through. It is a literal "Social Justice Warrior" -- from the future, armed to the teeth, and ready and eager to "punch some Nazis". After completing his task, some Jewish inmates approach to thank him for rescu-- BAM! He clocks them too. "Did I say 'Zio-Nazis excepted'?" I was thinking about this after reading this tweet by Ferrari Sheppard, where he says "Can't be anti Nazi pro Israel."

Can't be anti Nazi pro Israel.

— Ferrari Sheppard (@stopbeingfamous) August 13, 2017

I read that tweet, in turn, shortly after reading this thread by Sophie Ellman-Golan urging White Jews to "join" the fight against the neo-Nazi resurgence we saw in Charlottesville.

To white Jews alarmed by #Charlottesville: this is the movement. Join it. It will fight for us, but we have to fight for Black folks too.

— Sophie Ellman-Golan (@EgSophie) August 13, 2017

It is, she says, a fight Jewish institutions have been "shamefully late" in adopting as our own. I reflect on this, and I'm torn. My thoughts are scattered; they fly all over the place. Consider the ADL -- called out by name by Ellman-Golan. I recall excoriating them for selling out liberal Jews in their appalling silence on David Friedman's "kapo" comments. Then I think of the immense pressure the ADL has come under from the right, which accuses it of taking too hard a line on right-wing racism. I remember the shamefully equivocating tweet ADL chief Jonathan Greenblatt put out yesterday, drawing equivalence between Nazi and "antifa" violence. Then I remember the following tweet thread which was so much better. I also remember how a sizable chunk of the negative responses to Greenblatt's original equivocation somehow managed to work "Israel" into the message -- because that's what it's always about, isn't it? I consider how it seems many of the ADL's critics are eager, even happy, to infer the worst about it. They like the idea of "Jews who don't really oppose Nazis". They seem to revel in the idea that the Jews aren't anti-Nazi to their satisfaction. The Jewish community -- institutionally and otherwise -- is a varied and diverse bunch. That variation and diversity applies as much to our presence in social justice organizing as anything else. The explanations for this diversity will be similarly varied. After all, I, too, have written fusillades decrying the tepidity of many Jewish groups in calling out the ascendant tide of right-wing racism. So clearly I concur there's a problem here. At the same time, I also think that there's something truly grating at the idea that Jews have to prove themselves "anti-Nazi." Mia Steinberg wrote something very telling about how this debate plays out for Jews: "Instead of 'would I have stood up to Nazis in WW2', the thought experiment for me has always been 'would I have survived?'" The Holocaust was not an arena for Jews to prove our moral valor, and when our reaction to Nazism doesn't adopt appropriately heroic tones that is not proof of Jewish "complicity" in anything. The celerity with which people seem eager to tell Jews we're the new Nazis, or we don't care about Nazis, or we're not responding to Nazis in a way that gives non-Jews sufficient confidence that we're really anti-Nazi, is degrading and infuriating. Yet again -- I can't fully go down that road either. Surely, the groups like ZOA who have explicitly lined up behind the Trump/Bannon alt-right wing have no moral legs to stand upon. And even as I bow to no one in downplaying the seriousness of the growing clouds of antisemitism, Ellman-Golan is simply right -- I refuse to tolerate people denying this -- that in its current manifestation in the United States Black people are more violently targeted by the forces of White supremacy than are Jews. That doesn't mean Jews aren't targeted, and aren't targeted in ways that are worthy of genuine fear and concern. But it is not wrong for there to be a focus on racist violence, so long as that focus doesn't come via denying the reality of antisemitic violence. But  (once more around, and here's where I really want to land) can we honestly say -- unblinking, looked-in-the-eye, full-stop -- that when Jews don't throw themselves into these movements that the primary explanation ought to be "because Jews don't care about Nazism"? Can we be so confident that the movements in question "will fight for us"? The fact of the matter is, too often Jews -- from Chicago Dyke March to Creating Change to Slutwalk -- do try to participate in these movements, and are cast out, or turned aside, or subjected to humiliating ideological litmus tests where we're guilty until proven anti-Zionist. That's part of the reason -- not the sole reason, but part of the story -- why I shy away from protest movements. I don't know that they "will fight for us". That is not something that simply can be wedged into our presuppositions as a demanded default. Much the opposite:

As a Jew, I can't completely cheer at these expressions of left-wing activism because I know there is a real and non-negligible risk that in that crowd someone wants to say the whole thing they're fighting against is a Zionist plot, and there is a real and non-negligible risk that if that person gets a hold of the mic and says so the crowd will erupt in cheers. 

It grates when this is denied, when people act as if the only reason Jews "don't show up" for social justice (to the extent that we don't) is because we're too indifferent or too fragile or too embedded in our own privilege to really care. Such a view doesn't take seriously real practices of exclusion; it assumes them away because it takes "they will fight for us" as an axiom rather than a (often quite dubious) proposition that must be demonstrated. It's the "why do all the black people sit together in the cafeteria" question of Jewish social activism. If Jews are "late" to the social activist party -- and I don't necessarily concede that we are -- perhaps part of the reason is that social convention requires a truly grotesque amount of preparation, costuming, covering, hedging, eliding, and self-effacing before the Jew is admitted through the doors. It's exhausting. And it's hard to blame people for not wanting to show up, when those requirements are allowed to persist unexamined. Finally, when talking of these exclusions we should be clear that this is not even primarily, let alone solely, a POC thing. Indeed, Black people in America have consistently demonstrated their intolerance of antisemitism and their willingness to stand with Jews against antisemitism even in their own community. That history has to be part of the story too. The story of Black-Jewish relations simply isn't -- much as conservative hagiographers might wish it so -- one of self-sacrificing Jews altruistically defending civil rights only to be sold down the river by ungrateful African-Americans who dived headfirst into antisemitic conspiracy-mongering. What it boils down to is this:

Jews are genuinely threatened by the rise of the alt-right. This is a movement that affects us in a real, tangible way -- not as allies, not as "fragile" White people, but as a vulnerable group that is genuinely imperiled by these social forces. Acting as if Jews don't have skin in this game is a form of antisemitism denial.

Currently, the tangible manifestations of extreme-right identity politics have a greater impact on the material conditions of black and brown lives than they do that of White Jews. That assessment in no way falsifies the first bullet point.

All non-Jews, to varying degrees, benefit from the social privileges and prerogatives that exist under conditions of antisemitic domination. This assessment in now way falsifies the second bullet point, it merely establishes a kyriarchical relationship where (in the contemporary American context) racial domination has greater punch than also-extant antisemitic domination does.

The relationship between (proximately-European) Jews and Whiteness is a complex one. Such Jews clearly do not enjoy an unadulterated White privilege (as the seething hatred of White supremacists makes clear). But it is also clear that we enjoy a great many of these privileges and prerogatives on a day-to-day basis. While possession of these privileges does not falsify the existence of antisemitism, neither does experiencing antisemitism falsify the existence of these privileges.

Some Jewish groups have been derelict in their duties to combat this right-wing menace. It is our obligation as Jews to insist that our communal representatives fight against far-right extremist movements both because they threaten us as Jews and because they threat others -- Black people, brown people, queer people, and more -- who may or may not be Jewish.

To the extent that some Whites Jews haven't partaken in anti-right resistance movements in the stock ways typically demanded of White allies, the explanations that apply to White people generally who don't "show up" are not always inapposite. But they are frequently incomplete, and a serious conversation needs to be had about the politics of antisemitic exclusion that afflicts Jews who very much do wish to be involved in left-wing activist spaces or otherwise participate in contemporary progressive politics. This conversation cannot take "they will fight for us" as an axiomatic entitlement.

Do these not fully fit together? Then they don't fully fit together. As I said, I'm torn. I don't claim to fully fit together on this.

via The Debate Link http://ift.tt/2uBzEN4

[punkscowardschampions]

Janis & Grace

Janis: hey Janis: how you settling back in? Grace: ugh Grace: no weirder than its gotta be for you tho Janis: 😕 bummer Janis: lack of sunshine too real a metaphor Janis: well Grace: OMG SPILL Janis: Cass text and the situation sounded dire enough that I had to just talk to him Janis: and thank fuck, it didn't blow up in my face Grace: Love it Grace: not the dire situ obvs but like Grace: 💘💘 Janis: Yeah Janis: I think it's gonna be alright Grace: Yay!! Grace: I called it but still buzzing to hear it from you babes Janis: You wanna claim to know things now? Janis: let you have it 😜 Grace: excuse you bitch I do know things Grace: but it's not hard when you and barista boy are so obvs Janis: 🔮 Janis: obvs enough you spotted him? Janis: keep it on the DL Grace: Duh Grace: 😂 Janis: 😂 Awh Janis: poor baby Grace: I don't have to feel bad for either of you any more so Janis: Shame Janis: getting used to the perks Grace: cope with it bitch im not bringing you food just cos Grace: it's your turn tbh Janis: are you that 💔 forreal Grace: not about to ✂ levels of hard honey Grace: but idk Janis: thank god, don't you dare piggyback on my depression era bob, bitch Janis: no twinning Janis: you'll get into your groove with the whole LDR vibe Grace: eww never call it that again Grace: and no thanks there's no way I could pull off the cut Grace: how soon can I call him? its a lot Janis: whatever i call it, it is what it is, babe Janis: he'll be happy to hear from you already Janis: don't stress it Janis: pretend you're practicing your Spanish if you wanna play it 😎 Grace: we both know my spanish is A++ and so does he Janis: don't need to know how you've proved it thanks Grace: cos you know Grace: omg how did I get myself into this Grace: rom coms dont get made on any of this cos its too cringe Janis: stop 😷 Janis: let your 😍 get the better of you Janis: can't fight it now Janis: step off my bit, like Grace: thanks babes Grace: guess we've fully switched Grace: you're in with the advice Janis: what can I say Janis: momentary blip and I'm back to being the wise one Grace: rude Grace: I'm about to get top marks in Spanish until we leave school so Janis: you can thank Mateo in your speech if you like Grace: might have lost him by then but i'll always have the skills 🙏 Janis: oh honey Janis: so pessimistic Grace: uh no Grace: the realest Grace: you've been there with past me Grace: it's about time like Janis: he's not like your past beaus though Janis: is he Grace: okay no Grace: I'll chill Grace: I'm just Janis: ? Grace: let's not go there Janis: fine Janis: not like i was just the most vulnerable with you or anything 😏 Grace: you bitch Grace: okay like I'm being dramatic but it's just such a thing Grace: everything that's happened and I'm still like ?? have I changed enough for this Grace: you know what I mean? Janis: that's up to you Janis: 'cos a lot of that shit, wasn't on you Janis: yeah, you weren't perfect but your bullshit came from picking the wrong sort of dudes Janis: and you've already changed that part of the puzzle so Grace: Maybe you are the wise one Grace: I wanna be good enough for him cos this whole ldr vibe won't be easy Grace: Gotta be worthwhile if he's putting way much effort in Janis: No maybe about it baby Janis: you'll be putting in as much Janis: that's all you need to do Grace: Is it? Janis: 'course Janis: he liked you Janis: you've done the hard graft on that one Grace: okay Janis: Trust Grace: weird idea but yeah Grace: 🤞 Janis: charming Grace: 😂 Grace: It's tea and it's lukewarm at best Janis: how many of the spanish lads did mia run through Janis: bet pablo won Grace: ewww Grace: so gross and so real Janis: got so cultured Grace: the levels of cringe when the only souvenirs they bring back are love bites and pee tests Janis: I mean Janis: beats a keyring Janis: but wasn't really vibing Grace: I'd take a keyring over Mia Janis: Ooosh Grace: She's way harder to lose Janis: Savage but fair Janis: I know it Janis: suffered that for long enough Grace: #twining Grace: cos me too Grace: At least it's a good thing when barista boy Grace: love that he's highkey Janis: worked in my favour so Janis: not gonna disagree Grace: you two kill me omg Janis: shut up Grace: 🤐 Janis: it is good tho Grace: im happy for you babes Grace: even if im 😡 too cos im alone af Janis: soz you can't join in Janis: but i owe you several pity dates so, call 'em in when you're really feeling it Grace: yay Grace: im 100% planning to annoy your bf at work now hes not 💔 Janis: i'll warn him Grace: do it so he can work my angles Grace: been a while since he got his camera out for me Janis: 😑 if I didn't know that wasn't innuendo Janis: could pretend I don't and smack you down Grace: 😂 Grace: Chill I got a boy of my own to keep interested Janis: 👀 on you bitch Grace: 💅 Janis: 🔨 Grace: 🙄 Janis: anyway the real question Janis: do i milk the perks of being 💔 with the fam or do i come clean to get them the fuck out my face Grace: not even a q Grace: you'll crack and tell them Grace: dad's too highkey about eating feelings Janis: yeah Janis: already getting content fat Janis: can't also pile on the sad fat Janis: nightmare Grace: OMG shut up Grace: I'll smack you Grace: so unfair Janis: 🤷 Grace: such a bitch Janis: whatever Janis: like you're a whale Grace: next to you like Janis: you're mad Janis: its different body types Janis: you're more like rio Janis: and edie Janis: me and billie are more twiggy, thanks dad 🙄 Grace: ugh Grace: please im nothing like Rio Grace: Or Edie Janis joined the chat 84 minutes ago Janis: Yeah Janis: not in the bad ways, don't worry Grace: 🙄🙄 in any ways tbh Janis: who you like then Janis: or you think you ❄ Grace: more like 🦆 Grace: but anyway Janis: bitch please you know how that one goes Janis: swan the whole time Grace: bitch that's a kid's story Grace: not living it Janis: may as well Janis: living with old mother hubbard, like Grace: 😂 Janis: can't be normal with this narrative Janis: sadly Grace: ugh real Janis: but fuck normal right Grace: 👏 Grace: If Mia's it then yeah Janis: we all know normal is code for basic so, yeah Janis: we might be fucked but at least we ain't that Grace: Thank god Grace: nicest thing you've ever said to me too Grace: doubly blessed here Janis: don't get too used to it Janis: still me, like Grace: Do I need to warn Jimmy? Janis: Nah Janis: but he ain't you Janis: no offense 😘 Grace: we all know Grace: we see your 😍 Janis: duh Janis: you been there too Grace: did you tell him? Janis: that you fancied him? Janis: we been knew Grace: GURL PLEASE Grace: that you love him Janis: oh Janis: ha Janis: maybe Janis: if i only just managed to say it to him, what makes you think imma shout it to you bitch 😜 Grace: OMG HAVE I NOT SUFFERED FOR THIS Grace: 😂 Janis: I know, you love the fairytale ending Janis: to be continued, babe Grace: Rude Grace: Gonna have to watch Netflix if you won't let me binge on your drama Janis: netflix and chill ur man Janis: dirty hoe Grace: excuse you Grace: that is a good idea tho Janis: i know Janis: only an hour ahead, thank fuck the school didn't shell out for a more exotic exchange Grace: ikr? id die Grace: i like you boy but i like sleeping too so Janis: 😂 Grace: you ever coming home or you just living over there with him now? Janis: solid plan Janis: though diego and Iggy would get pissy if I stole their respective studios Grace: I'd take them being mad over his dad cos that's option 2 Grace: and he's such a Janis: bellend Janis: gonna be fuming i'm back Grace: oh god Grace: least youve got your fans in his brother and sister Grace: and that dog like Janis: sure you're still bobs number 1 Janis: won't tell him YOU'VE moved on tho Grace: oh no what a homewrecker move of me Grace: he's soooo sweet Grace: that's why I brought him back some Spanish 🍬 Janis: that'll soften the blow Janis: be his sweet bitch and you can sow your wild oats Grace: 😂 Grace: boys are so easy Grace: you can take them for me if you don't take the credit bitch Janis: no promises Janis: i'm getting back in good books here Grace: 👌 I'll deliver them myself Grace: 👀 on you Janis: you can when you're forcing headshot duties on jim Grace: true Janis: s'alright, I ain't down for being 'muse' 'til this shit grows out Grace: BUT IT'S CUTE Janis: 👖🔥 Grace: not even Grace: I like it Janis: I'll make it work Janis: like you always say Janis: hardly fashion forward am i Grace: you're obvs making that work too babes Janis: sure Janis: butch dyke chic Grace: shhhh Grace: so not Janis: have to get billie to take notes Grace: good luck getting her to do anything Janis: True Janis: how long can a baby be an excuse Janis: no shade Grace: like 2 years at most Grace: but in this fam 2 seconds Grace: gotta have and do it all Janis: she's outta time then Janis: do 👏 some 👏 work 👏 bitch Grace: Big mood Janis: cue her angry model rant Janis: it's a real job, okay 😜 Grace: I'm so mad about it Grace: never once been spotted in town so unfair Janis: gutted Janis: could be a creepy fam sitch Janis: wannabe kardashians, know you'd love it Grace: obvs Janis: 😂 are you sure Janis: what if you're the khloe tho Grace: that's so mean omg Grace: but i'd still take it Janis: don't do yourself like that hun, none of us need to take that bullet Grace: easy for you to say Kim Grace: Don't tell Rio that's you like she'd go off Janis: 😂😂 she got the tapes Grace: omg yeah didn't think of that Grace: take back your kim status Grace: i'm obvs kylie anyway her taste in lads like Janis: mhmm, and the egomaniac mans #sozkanye #sozbuster #but Janis: i'll be your kendall then Janis: nothing like the rest and seems uninterested in their shit half the time Grace: 😂 Grace: shamelessly the prettiest Grace: 👀 you Janis: 😏 Janis: billie can be kourtney 'cos remember when kim told her she was boring to look at Janis: savage Grace: iconic Janis: then no one has to be khloe, sorted Janis: though her kid is cute Grace: 😍😍😍 ikr Grace: so many of them are Grace: unfair Janis: we all know why Janis: #goblack Janis: Ma did it better Grace: Gonna tell Jimmy he's dumped already like? Grace: Cold Janis: 😂 not being that bitch Janis: if I ever say I'm having kids, you need to assess a lot more than that Janis: like hell no Grace: believe it when I don't see it Grace: you were saying you weren't 💘 once upon a time Janis: I wanna have a life tho tah Grace: if anyone's proved you can it's everyone in this fam Grace: girl please that's not an excuse Janis: not saying it is, just a reason to keep on the pill, like Janis: i'm hardly Ma Grace: 😂 Janis: imagine Janis: poor fuckers Grace: let's not cos i agree with you and thats weird enough Janis: i can fight you if you like Janis: always a pleasure Grace: the ✂ taken the fun out of it Grace: love a dramatic hair pull moment Janis: oh, there's still enough to pull 😏 Grace: TMI Janis: 😂 Grace: if you were talking about his I'd be listening though Grace: he may be white but hes still cute Janis: square up Grace: girl no Grace: not trying to ruin my nails for anyone thank you Janis: shoulda thought about that Grace: think on your possessiveness hun Janis: no bitch Janis: he's mine Janis: end of story Grace: 💍 Janis: 🖕 Grace: 💋