#just slapped it in the face with a bagpipe this morning

[rahuratna]

Good morning, Handsome 😉

It was Gojo who started it. It was always Gojo.

It all began at 6 am on a Tuesday. It was winter, and still somewhat dark outside. The grey curtains obscured most of the light in the room, even during daylight hours, as Nanami preferred. His sleep ritual was a religiously observed one; one that suffered no interference.

Until today.

He rolled over, breath rushing out of his nostrils in a confused huff, one bare arm pushing out of the warmth and comfort of the blankets as his phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Fumbling slightly, he slapped at it to turn off his alarm. It silenced briefly before lighting up and thrumming once again.

"What - "

He snatched the phone up, glaring blearily at it through sleep-fogged eyes. It was a full hour before he was due to wake up, so what was going on? Had he set his alarm incorrectly? Impossible.

Nanami sat up, giving up the ghost of a restful sleep, brushing tangled blonde hair out of his eyes. He blinked hard, then focused on the too-bright screen.

A message? From Gojo, no less. It must be some kind of emergency.

Now completely awake, Nanami threw off the blankets, swinging his legs out of bed. The floorboards were cold under his feet and he hurriedly shoved them into warm slippers. He was about to enter the bathroom, fingers sliding over the screen as he opened Gojo's message.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

A stylized rabbit, dressed in a sparkling tutu and fishnet stockings, hopped across his screen. It paused to wiggle its bushy tail (somewhat inappropriately) before turning around and simpering at Nanami, doe-like eyes surrounded by thick lashes. It blew him a kiss, and more shiny sparkles emitted from its despicable snout, forming the words:

GOOD MORNING HANDSOME!

Nanami was a man of discipline, a man of dignity and great self control. That certainly didn't stop him from flinging his phone across the room like an angry toddler. It bounced off his pillow and landed face up, revealing the rabbit slowly slipping off a stocking and revealing a paw shaped like a heart.

The real question was, of course, if Gojo was going to get away with it. Not on Nanami's watch.

One could speculate that he was being petty. What was one little good morning message in the bigger scheme of things anyway? But this was not how Nanami saw it, oh no. His morning routine was sacred, unassailable. And when it was attacked, he would double down like a math teacher being told that there would be no more geometry on the curriculum.

And so, he bided his time.

The perfect opportunity arrived when Gojo left his phone (careless and casual) on the table in the staff lounge while he went to check on his first years on the training field.

As soon as Gojo exited, a rustle came from the shadowed chair in the corner as a newspaper was lowered. The dim light glinted off a pair of gimlet-eyed dark glasses. The owner of said shades rose slowly, adjusting his suit jacket.

He approached the table, gently grasping Gojo's phone, one finger deftly tracing the correct pattern to unlock the screen. He had been watching, you see.

A quick search through the 'gallery' revealed an entire folder of those same sparkly, hair-raising, fingernails-on-the-blackboard type good morning messages. So Gojo had been busy, it seemed.

A casual scroll through the messaging app revealed that Nanami hadn't been the only victim. Ijichi was there, begging to be left alone at 4 am. Shoko was there, swearing with some choice, and lovely, words. Even Megumi hadn't escaped unscathed, sending a single flat-mouthed, unamused emoji in response to his message (which featured bagpipe music overlaid on a screeching seagull call).

But Nanami hadn't planned this far just to leave things as they were.

He found the contacts of each of the higher-ups, adding them all to a common group. Nanami hummed slightly before naming the group 'Gojo's Gumdrops'. Once the group had been formed, he typed the following message:

Hey guyz! It's me, ur friendly neighborhood Satowu. So, I've been thinking, and ... I guess I've been extra hard on y'all. Getting new students really made me think about how the elders of our society are treated. Someday, I may even be in ur position, getting rubbed the wrong way by some powerful young upstart.

So here's my way of saying: Sorryyy. Soooo sad, made ya mad. And all that jazz.

But for real, I'm sorry. So I made this group for our daily positive affirmations. I'll start by sending this super duper cutesy wutesy good morning text, since some of u sleepyheads only rattle outta bed at 10.

Hit me up with allllll ur shiny goodness! I'm a sucker for positivity!

Nodding grimly, Nanami hit 'send', exited the app and placed the phone exactly as he'd found it. Straightening his tie, he strode briskly out of the room, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth as the phone on the table began to buzz almost immediately.

Revenge was a dish best served sparkly.

This one's for all my fellow soldiers, my comrades in suffering who have had to endure endless good morning messages on family group chats. The ones with insufferable, cutesy animals and cherubs that I want to roll into a ball and donate for batting practice to the International Cricket Council.

[the-fiction-witch]

Favourite Nurse

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

I stood in the surgical theatre sweeping, scrubbing and cleaning the place down in the early morning light, my cheap scratchy nurse dress around me as I tried to remove blood stains from the table. I heard the door creak open and a voice spoke up.

"Humm... There's my favourite nurse." He slyly smiled,

I looked up seeing Doctor Jack Dawkins leant on the wooden door frame that led into the prep room, in his usual brown trousers, white faded shirt with blood-stained sleeves, blue waistcoat and tattered green tie, his blonde hair dusty and dirty as usual. His arms crossed smugly over his chest and that stupid sly smile on his lips. 

I turned on my heels to face him moving a strand of hair out my eyes and setting both hands on my hips, "Ah Doctor Dawkins,"

"The Very same my darling," 

"Just the man I've been looking for, I have a bone to pick with you,"

"ohh really?" he smirked as he moved his hands behind him and swaggered over with an air of teasing playfulness, "Umm... Go on then my darling, But I think we both know what bone I want you to be picking at," 

"You left the surgical theatre in an utter abhorrence!" I complain, "Tools used and all over the place, floor blanketed in blood, if you are going to do surgery in the middle of the night you could at least tidy up after yourself!" 

His tone soured, "I don't have time my darling," He rolled his eyes, "If I hadn't acted quickly the man would be dead by now. So I had to perform an emergency operation late last night or early this morning... not confident which it was."

"That's not an excuse not to clean up after yourself."

"But I was tired," he pouted, 

"I am not your maid Jack, as much as you like to think I am," I told him as I took my bucket out with me to the courtyard, but he followed me. 

"I know you're not. I just needed your help. We are the only ones working round the clock here. It's not my fault my body won't let me stay up past 10 anymore."

"That doesn't mean I'm your maid," I told him as I tipped my bucket over the stairwell and set it down with the others, but before I could scamper back inside he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"But you're a brilliant cleaner you get all the spots I'm too blind for."

"Or too ignorant for." 

"Both," he chuckled, "I like you being my cute little maid girl,"

"I am not your maid." I told him poking his chest with my finger, "As much as you may like it."

"And how did you know I had a maid fetish?" he whispered,

"Because you have an everything fetish," I glared as I moved away and cleaned off my hands, "You're a very horny boy Jack."

"Well yeah? You spent ten years in the navy where you're lucky to see one woman per six months, You can't help getting excited for every girl you see." he smirked sitting himself on the edge of the stairs, "And how can I help it with you running around my darling? "

"Some days I really do wonder how you are such a smart doctor, your brain rarely gets any blood it's always down your trousers." I sighed as I began to hang the washed sheets on the lines in the courtyard, 

"I can't help it, you're too captivating," 

"Umm... You're lucky you don't get a damn slap. Escpaily after I caught you peeking down my dress the other day."

"And up your dress," he muttered,

"What was that?" I glared,

"Nothing my darling," He cooed, "You're such a little smart ass, aren't you? The girls at the cat and bagpipes don't give me such sassback."

"That's because you're paying them jack they have to pretend to like you,"

"They do like me."

"do they? do they ever actually want to talk or be near you before you hand them a pound?" 

"Sometimes," He lied, "They like my stethoscope, and hearing stories about work."

"AHH yes your stethoscope I'm sure all rottys girls at the cat and bagpipes just love your... Stethoscope"

"Well and because I'm so handsome,"

"You good looking I think you're very handsome just... Too confident for your own good sometimes" I rolled my eyes as I finished hanging the newly washed sheets and gathered in the dry ones from earlier, 

"Oh? you think I'm handsome My darling?" he teased, 

I finished gathering all the dry sheets and headed back towards the door, "You can be when you have a bath and some clean clothes Jack" I said tugging on his stained sleeves and giving his hair a tussle as I walked up the steps seeing visible dust fall out of it, 

"So you're saying I'm attractive? Like you are actually attracted to me and you think I'm handsome" he gave chase of course following behind me like an excited puppy, 

"If it makes you feel better. Yes," I rolled my eyes kissing his cheek before I headed into the storage cupboard to start folding the dry sheets and putting them away, 

"Wait. You're actually serious, no joke and you're not just saying that to make me stop bugging you?"

"I'm very serious you can be very handsome sometimes," 

"Ohh? Well, what makes me so handsome then my darling?" he cooed leaning his elbow on the shelf, 

"you're a very handsome man Jack. You have a toned slender body, you're tall, you have very handsome soft blonde hair, deep chocolate brown eyes, a striking jaw and a very cute smile and you're are adorable when you get mad or jealous and you frown all pouty, so yes I do find you attractive and the times when you clean up have a hot bath and some clean clothes I admit your very lovely" I explain as I fold sheets, 

He smiled and slightly blushed at my compliments "So... if I had a bath and some fresh clothes I wouldn't just be cute I'd be... sexy?"

"Perhaps,"

He smirked and grabbed my hand spinning me around before pulling me into his chest, "So? how would I rate all clean and lovely?"

"Out of ten?"

"Yep," he smirked not letting me move in any way,

I smiled and set my hands on his waistcoat moving on my tip toes to be inches from his lips as I spoke, At the moment eight. When you have a bath eleven."

"A-an 11? So you're saying once I've had a bath and worn nice clothes, I'll be stunningly handsome and an 11 out of 10?" he blushed, "You... really mean that Y/n?"

"I do, You're a slender little smart-ass jack. And I think you're the most attractive man in the hospital... I mean, that's kind of a hollow complaint though given my options for doctors are you, Dr sneed and Prof. And prof is in his 60s and Sneed looks like a snail" 

"Well, it's lucky for you that I'm so good-looking and have such a captivating personality," 

"It is," I giggled,

"I always knew I was your favourite nurse darling," He smiled stroking my cheek and pulling my lips to his own.  

[heroes-fading]

Do you know the song Losing You Memory by Ryan Star? I find it such an Joel to Ellie song when they are in that massive bitter phase. I mean with lyrics like

"Call all your friends

And tell them you're never coming back

Cause this is the end

Pretend that you want it

Don't react

The damage is done

The police are coming too slow now

I would have died

I would have loved you all my life" (that last line especially kills me given the second game :') )

And

"Wake up, it's time, little girl, wake up

All the best of what we've done is yet to come

Wake up, it's time, little girl, wake up

Just remember who I am in the morning"

I just really want to hear your thoughts on this!

remember when this was on tvd lmao

that soundtrack unironically slapped. so much of vampire media soundtrack goes so hard. the twilight soundtrack? whomever was the music supervisor for tvd? understood the assignment. iconic.

also the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind of it all.

i do love this song (more songs should have bagpipes) - and yes. i ignore tlou2 for my Mental Health but. IT'S A GOOD ANGST SONG.

if you want more angsty joel + ellie alienation/joel dead songs:

for blue skies - strays don't sleep

signs - bloc party

heart skipped a beat - the xx

someone great - lcd soundsystem

my backwards walk - frightened rabbit

wires - athlete (hospital coded thank u)

skinny love - bon iver

welcome home son - radical face

the devil's tears - angus and julia stone

agape - bear's den

anyway if you like emotional pain those should help

[dravidious]

You are really really really really really really really really really really really really really REALLY great!

I made a (mostly) comprehensive guide to Malzeno's moveset from the Monster Hunter Rise Sunbreak demo!

Malzeno, the ultimate challenge of Monster Hunter Rise: Sunbreak. The demo, I mean. I ain't spending $60 on that shit. It's a brutal boss, with fast attacks that hit like a truck and a 15 minute time limit. And of course, since it's the demo, you have no way to upgrade your equipment and no elemental weapons except bowguns. I've fought this thing a ton and beaten it with 8 the weapons in the game, so here's my guide to its moveset.

MAP

Malzeno has three spawn points: North, East, and West. If it spawns North, head into the caves, grabbing the wild wirebug and stinkmink along the way. Grab the ruby wirebug before mounting Tetranadon, then go slap the dragon. I recommend two strong attacks and a dodge counter, then four strong attacks in a row before mounted punisher. The timing is tight, so if the time limit gets too low, just throw out the punisher before you get kicked off.

If it spawns East, open the map (hold the minus button) and fast travel to the sub camp, then hop down and start the fight.

If it spawns West, run over to it and grab the marionette spider on top of the tree in the area before Malzeno.

There's a marionette spider in the hallway west of the northern spawn room, right on the ledge, so grab it if Malzeno retreats through that hallway.

If Rathian is ever nearby, go mount it, it does ridiculous damage. Use the backward strong attack to inflict fireblight, then the forward strong attack to poison. When you get the knockdown, you have time for three more tail flips, or two tail flips and a dive, which you do by pressing strong attack after a flip. I recommend just mashing the A button to get it.

When you mount Malzeno, check the map for the red or blue geysers, shaped like puffs of gas. If you launch it into one, it does 1400 damage and inflicts a blight, so they're pretty crucial. If you're confident in your riding skills, feel free to get two or three wallbangs before launching it into the geyser for even more damage.

VAMPIRE'S RAGE

Instead of enraging normally, Malzeno will enter a special rage mode after a certain amount of time. Its fur will glow red, and its attacks get more dangerous. Hitting its red parts enough will eventually knock it out of this mode and topple it, and those parts (its head and arms) are its weak points anyway, so just deal enough damage and it'll happen automatically. Its tail tip is also vulnerable in this mode, but good luck hitting that.

If you don't deal enough damage fast enough, Malzeno will use its Ultra-Deadly and Epic Super Attack! It flies into the air and fires a dragon laser all around, before dropping a giant dragon bomb that sends waves all around! And it's pathetic. The laser hits so far away it'll never hit you, and you can just wiredash into the air and hang to avoid all the waves. Seeing this attack does signal your doom though, because it means you aren't dealing enough damage. If it ever uses this, you've probably already lost.

BLOODBLIGHT

A unique status that halves your healing items' effects, including max potion. However, you can restore health by dealing damage, so it isn't so bad if you're good at dodging and don't take any risks. You've got 15 minutes, so you need to be attacking anyway. The more damage you deal, the more health you get, so hit it hard when you get the opportunity!

MAIN ATTACKS

These are the attacks that it uses most often. If you can't deal with all of these, you're pretty much screwed.

Wing Stomp: It raises its wing up and stomps it down. If it's enraged, it'll combo with a faster stomp with its other wing. The tracking on this thing is kinda ridiculous; it can slide really far forward and backward to catch you, so if you think you're out of range, you're not, roll anyway. Dodge this by just rolling to the side, no problem. It has a pretty big opening afterward, so this is a good attack to see.

If you plan on countering it, there's two things to keep in mind. 1: If it's enraged, be very careful about countering the first stomp. Some counters are fine, like Iai Spirit Slash which somehow slides you out of range of the 2nd, but most will end up with you eating the 2nd stomp. Roll, then counter. 2: The timing of the hitbox is delayed; it hits slightly AFTER the stomp actually connects. And no, this isn't because the real hitbox is the rocks it kicks up; try to jump over it, and you'll die.

Tail Thrust: It flips up into the air and thrusts its tail at you. If it's enraged, it'll combo with a 2nd, faster thrust. Similar to the stomps, but with better tracking and harder to avoid. You need to time your roll for right as it's thrusting. It'll bloodblight you if it hits, so don't take any risks with it. Weird tip: The thrust is really fast and seems to have very few active hitbox frames, so if you're stuck in endlag with no defensive options, try rolling exactly as it hits you. I've pulled it off a few times (I think with Switch Axe?), but it might just be a hidden evasion skill on the armor, idk.

Again, lots of endlag, so a great move to counter. Just make sure to dodge the first one if it's enraged. Also, (gun)lance can actually dodge this without blocking by just walking sideways and hopping at the right time, so use this to nail a counter if it's enraged.

Backward Tail Thrust: It turns back to growl at you, then thrusts its tail backward. Similar to regular tail thrust, but make sure you roll to the right; it swings its tail to the left as it turns around, which has a tripping hitbox, very annoying. It won't interrupt counters though, and with only a single thrust, this is good to counter. Also, if it wasn't clear, it uses this when you're behind it.

Double Dragon Wave: It makes a weird chittering noise, then flaps its wings to send two curving dragon waves at you. For the longest time, I didn't want to bother weaving through the waves, so I would try to escape to the side. DON'T DO THIS. Malzeno boxes you in with waves of rocks that are impossible to jump over. Fortunately, dodging is easy; the waves spread out, then cross, then spread again. You'll usually want to run toward it and get between the waves before they cross. If you're far away, it gets tricky, so I suggest running further away.

Also, these inflict dragonblight, but like... who cares? Bowgun users?

Corkscrew Dash: It rears back and squeals, then rushes far forward, turning around to combo with one of three attacks. Just run and roll to the side to avoid the dash. If you're stuck in endlag, you might just be screwed, as this hitbox is big. It can follow up with a Ground Slam, Wind Wave, or a unique move it never uses anywhere else: Spread Blood Balls. The Ground Slam is dangerous, so be careful about running forward to chase it.

Spread Blood Balls: This is its weakest follow up; the three balls move slowly and have no tracking, so run between them and get a free hit or two.

Wind Wave: It pulls back, then throws a shockwave toward you. If it's enraged, it'll throw a second. The wave moves fast, has pretty wide range, and has good tracking, so run and roll. If you feel aggressive, you can wiredash jump to avoid the wave, then airdodge or wiredash towards it to start attacking again. Fun Fact: The waves are easy to block, so if you have Shield Dash with lance, you can just charge through the last one to chase Malzeno.

Dragon Slither: It slams down its claw, drags it rightward, then combos into one of three moves: Backward Tail Thrust, Teleport Bite, or a unique leftward bite. The first claw swipe is the most dangerous, and the hitbox covers basically Malzeno's entire front half. I recommend dodging left, as dodging backward will line you up for the leftward bite. I've occasionally timed my roll to i-frame right through the claw swipe, so try that. Also, the bite reaches really far forward, so if you think you're out of range, you're not. Fortunately, this is a weaker attack; it only hits like a car, not a truck.

Dragon Laser: This has an audio cue, but I don't remember what it sounds like. It fires a fast dragon laser at the ground, then three waves of explosions happen in front of it. The laser is fast and the explosions are wide, so roll sideways, then forward. The multiple hitboxes really mess with counters, so this attack is tough.

Teleport Bite: It snaps forward with a bite, then teleports away and uses one of four moves: Ground Ripper, Double or Triple Dragon Wave, or a second bite. The bite is really fast, so roll sideways immediately when you see it. Dodge sideways again after it teleports in case of another bite. Any other attack, and just react easy-peasy.

OTHER ATTACKS

These are less common or less dangerous, but it's important to know about all this thing's attacks.

Tail Dance: It looks back, growls, then sweeps its tail in a counter-clockwise arc along the ground before jumping up and away. This will bloodblight if it hits. It doesn't swing its tail all the way around, so if you're close, you can find a safe zone. Or just try to get REALLY close, I think it sometimes just passes through you.

Circle Dance: It stands and curls up, chitters, then drags its claws clockwise and sweeps its tail clockwise. This is MUCH more dangerous because it doesn't have much of a safe zone, and the two hitboxes make counters less reliable. The claw drag is close range, so you might have time to run backward if you're at mid range. If you're in a spot where only one of the attacks will hit you, you can counter. If you're too close and in the wrong spot, sorry. This attack is rough.

Blood Balls: It rears up and summons three blood balls, which it shoots at you one at a time. Sheath your weapon and sprint, and you'll be fine; this attack is just a time waster. You might be able to counter the 3rd one, but they inflict bloodblight, so maybe just stay safe.

Triple Dragon Wave: It plants its claws one the ground and flings three dragon waves at you. This attack is dangerous up close, as dodging the center wave might send you into one of the others, but it's otherwise very simple to dodge.

Dragon Bomb: It flies into the air, waits, drops a big ball of dragon energy, waits, then flings a big dragon wave at you. This attack sucks; it takes way too long, has no opening, and is very easy yet demanding to dodge. Just sheath and sprint sideways.

Ground Slam: It hisses, jumps up, then slams the ground and kicks up a ton of rubble. It can teleport to you before using this, so always be ready for ti. This attack has REALLY wide range, and is pretty fast. It doesn't reach forward, so dodge backward. This attack is why you don't run forward when it uses Corkscrew Dash.

Ground Ripper: It kinda bounces up and down, then hops forward and rips up rubble in a wide area. It doesn't reach far forward, so you can run backward.

Trip Lunge: It jolts forward and trips you with a bite, then combos into another attack. This attack is damn-near instant, and the trip means you can't wirefall nor run to avoid the next attack, losing invulnerability just in time to get slapped. This is uncommon enough that I don't know what it can combo into, and I have no idea how to deal with anything about it. Depending on the attack and weapon, you might be able to roll or counter.

Leftward Lunge: It rears up, then lunges toward you with a powerful hit. It's called leftward because you need to dodge to the right; dodging left always makes you get hit. I don't know why, hitboxes are weird. It reaches really far forward, so if you think you're out of range, you're not, roll anyway. Also, if you see the wind up and you happen to already be strafing left, DO NOT COMMIT. The tracking is really good, so just turn around and roll right.

Blood Drain: It rears up and chitters, then lunges forward with a grab. The grab has an annoying cutscene, but doesn't deal much damage. The real threat is that you're left in a vulnerable grounded state that you need to wirefall out of. No bugs? Too bad. The grab can be blocked and countered, but super armor from things like Slide Beat won't save you, so don't try it. I don't actually know how to dodge this one, so try rolling sideways I guess.

Wing Sweep: It stands up and sweeps its wing leftward, tripping you and dealing low damage. This reaches pretty far and wide, so roll into Malzeno to sneak through it.

[dcnativegal]

Day 55 of Pandemic, & I’m sick

Monday, May 4, 2020. Day 55 of the global pandemic (declared by World Health Organization on March 11th.) We as a planet hit 3,500,000 cases today, and 250,000 deaths. There are many more than that, but the planet doesn’t have enough tests.  But then, there was this announcement:

So obviously we’re in good hands. [Sarcasm alert.]

 The entire planet has slowed down, such that seismologists can detect the quieting of the earth: less shuddering of industry, cars, construction. Check out the drop in electricity usage:

Here’s a bit of perspective from Instagram:

The Lesbians of Paisley have been fertile ground for viruses. Valerie is nearly recovered from the viral pneumonia she was diagnosed with on March 26 at the emergency room at Lake District Hospital. She’d begun to feel feverish and achy, with violent coughing on March 15th, 2 days after what turned into my last day in my office at the hospital’s primary care clinic, and a day and a half after we’d dined with our friends Toni, Al, Bonnie and Bruce in person, sans masks. We began 100% isolation from the outside world the minute she felt sick. She recounted the ER adventure to a friend thusly: We drove in and they have organized a system that resembles getting on a [military] base after 9-11. We sat in the pickup at the checkpoint until a somebody in protective attire had taken my temp and saturation levels and asked a bunch of questions. Then they slapped a red sticker on the dash, told us to park in the ER lot and "don't get out of the pickup." Five hours later I had donated blood and been CAT scanned. I had two pneumonia shots that were current and two flu shots, also current. They checked the blood against 14 different virus strains and came up blank. The chest showed white lungs and my saturation levels were iffy. So they used one of the tests they had been sent, gave me antibiotics (just in case) and sent me home. Took me three days to sleep off all that fun.”

Me and Griffey the poodle waited in the pickup for her. At every sound, he got up from the passenger’s seat and looked at the ER entrance where she’d disappeared. No Valerie? Back to sleep. I walked him 3 times.      Hope, her RN daughter, told us that her flow through the ER was great practice in maintaining distance and perfect hygienic process through the CT scan, taking blood, even pushing her food on a tray to her. Lake Health District Hospital is prepared, and still, technically speaking, zero cases in the county.

I was so anxious about her health, her ability to breathe, that I gave up all thought of working from home. I listened to her breathing and coughing, brought her tea, and finally, asked her to write out her last will and testament. She did, and put it away. I figured, her kids are wonderful and won’t fight about stuff but, better for her to express her wishes, even if the paper wouldn’t be legally binding.

Apparently, I get the FrankenDodge (the pickup which has hit one too many deer and who’s grill is sewn together by wire). I’ll take it but I’d much rather have her.

We waited 10 days for the nasal swab results. While we waited, she got better. Never had that cytokine storm, nor that respiratory crash. Storms and crashes; pretty apt words for the medical horror of end stage COVID-19. Once her test came back negative, despite the warning of her PCP who says that nasal swabs miss between 30 and 47% of positive cases, I was able to go to town on the 10th of April, get some software downloaded onto the computer so I could work from home, and hit Safeway while wearing a mask. I also dropped off one of Valerie’s homemade masks to a friend, along with some toilet paper illustrated with Trump’s kissy face. The moment of levity was greatly appreciated.

I started feeling lousy six days after my jaunt to Lakeview (April 16th). Cough and release of gook high up in my chest. Headache. No fever. Who knows if I have COVID-19. We listen to a British gentleman, Dr. Campbell, daily, as he reviews what’s going on globally, and he interviewed a woman who had exactly my illness course, before she moved on to fever and gastrointestinal symptoms. She never got tested. Too much hassle. Which is so ridiculous, criminal really, and in the USA, a direct result of American hubris and incompetence. Fine. Anyone with any symptoms of any illness is isolated until we have a vaccine and treatment, is my prediction. I’m still feeling shitty, though better. Started taking antibiotics just in case and in the hopes of recovering SOMEDAY.

 My son Jonah and his girlfriend June escaped just in time the terrible plight of New York’s COVID19 deluge of infections and hospitalizations. They’ve been in Baltimore at June’s mother’s beautiful home. He spent his 26th birthday in the basement because they were still in quarantine. See adorable picture, below. Now they’re allowed upstairs, enjoying the quiet. Apparently, writing and directing music videos is not an essential service during a pandemic, but he’s writing pitches and living off the most recent lucrative gig with Kesha, thank goodness.

One of the most moving things that is happening in the USA during this time is the 7pm clapping ritual for medical workers and first responders in New York City, in all the boroughs:

There’s a firefighter in DC who’s going to hospitals and nursing homes to play the bagpipe.

That’s where my daughter Clara lives, in DC, but right now she’s staying with a friend in Laurel, MD, since her group house dynamics are stressful and had a symptomatic guest at last report. She’s working from home to make sure the Latinx school children are getting the tutoring they need now more than ever. We worry about her husband Jose and his country, Guatemala, since there are COVID-19 cases down there, and refugees seeking asylum are being dumped there, with and without the virus. Over 700 cases in Guatemala as of today. We hope he will get to the USA this year. However, Trump referred to it as a shithole country, which doesn’t bode well.

My sister and her husband are well, thankfully. They work fulltime from home in the company of Pepper the cat and Darcy the chocolate lab. Yuuki, 25, stays there, too, mostly in their room; they are out of work and applying for unemployment. Kohji, age 28, works from home in DC and makes more money as a web designer than I ever will after 34 years as a social worker, but who’s counting. (I remember well the admonition of a field instructor back in 1987: don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.) His girlfriend is probably out of work; she works for a nonprofit that plants trees in DC. Probably not essential work right this very minute. Makoto, 23, is out of quarantine and looking for something to do; he’ll be a senior at the University of Delaware this fall. As far as I hear on Facebook and email, the rest of the folks with whom I share DNA are well. So that’s good. I worry about my Aunt Mary Lee who is 87. But she says not to:  she’s fine and her ritzy retirement community in McLean, VA is on “lockdown.”

Psychologically, in the experience of quarantine and ‘social distancing’, there’s me, and then there are my clients.

My moods go up and down, but a little further down than usual. The terror that Valerie might die of COVID-19 has passed, but I figure I will always need therapy.  I have “Facebook messenger” video chats with my therapist, Darcy of Bend, every other week now, which helps. Having ‘Generalized Anxiety Disorder’ and a tendency toward major depression, I find therapy to be a corrective. A bimonthly tune up. Without it, I naturally veer toward negativity and neurosis, and a hypervigilance that served me well when I was a child, but is exhausting, overwrought and over-thought as an adult.

Psychologically, Valerie is always fine. Seriously. She was once told as a young woman by a therapist who’d tested her with the MMPI (the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) that she was outrageously and puzzlingly normal. Now that she’s feeling mostly well again from the pneumonia, she’s been tearing up the joint, fixing the sump pump that apparently keeps this little house from drifting down main street on the wetlands it’s built on. Digging out the leaves from our irrigation ditch, chopping and clearing the wood from our front yard.

The BEFORE picture:

The AFTER Picture.

 And this happened one morning in March. Just a cattle drive past our front door.

Valerie’s planning a garden at her daughter’s place, which has a deer-proof fence and lots of sun up on the hill above us. A delivery of horse manure is scheduled, and the garden bed has been rototilled. Val’s granddaughter Jessica and her husband Alan are living up there now, working from home for their Portland-based gigs. They’re almost finished the 14-day quarantine since they moved down here. The new normal: anytime anyone leaves one locale for another, they disappear into strictest quarantine, not to leave their abode. Groceries are delivered to the doorstep. A recent day turned out to be Jess’ 25th birthday: I’d bought a canvas bag with a picture of a pug on it, like her dog Archie, and Valerie found something gluten free flour mix with fresh jam to give her. Birthday gatherings are suspect at the moment.

Here’s a lovely idea for quarantined birthday celebrations:

What a kind and generous offer.

Even in isolation, Val and I do socialize, on zoom. The one pictured below is church.

We ‘visit’ with our fellow parishioners from St. Luke’s on Sunday evenings. Then we say Compline together, from the Book of Common Prayer. My favorite prayer of all time is this one from that service.

Yes, shield the joyous. Because joy is fleeting.

Our writers’ group, Easy Writers, ‘meets’ on zoom every Monday now. I wrote this bit about my yarn for the prompt, ‘write something in your home that means a lot to you.’

I am doing a great deal of crochet and a little knitting.

Yarn is my comfort and my joy. It is the raw material I create blankets and scarves and hats with. My tools are hooks and needles made from wood and plastic and metal. My fingers are also my tools.

Some of the yarn is like cotton candy: spun mohair from a goat is said to have a ‘halo’ or ‘aura’ because of the gentle cloud of color you can see an inch or two away from the spun thread. Some yarn is like twine: you can see every string of ply. My favorite is merino wool and single ply. A unity of color that will not split. All for one and one for all, the fuzzy stuff is twisted and bound into a single string of strength…

My clients are stressed out. The pandemic adds a layer to the stress they were already experiencing. I listen and knit, from within the cocoon of the yarn room which my folks can see behind me.  One of my clients wanders about with her phone in her hand while I get slightly dizzy. I like this kind of counseling since I get a glimpse of my clients’ homes. Reminds me a little bit of being a geriatric care manager. You can tell a lot about a person from their home. From my home you can tell that I have a lot of yarn, and I work multiple projects at a time because there are piles of them alongside my recliner.  

One of the sad weights of being present for my clients is their level of estrangement for most if not all social connections, especially people with whom they share DNA. And every single one has what is called in the mental health world “complex PTSD” from multiple traumatic experiences.  I sit with them, on the phone or via video. I hope to model for them what Carl Rogers called ‘unconditional positive regard.’ I breathe deeply to release my own distress at their sadness. We explore one tiny step toward reducing their isolation, the sense of trust. All during a pandemic where other people could be carrying a potentially deadly virus.

It’s no wonder I’m pawing mohair out of screen for my own comfort.

Sometimes I email clients links or articles on how to keep their spirits up, or about good things that are happening instead of the dire predictions they’re listening to or watching. There is much to share that is hopeful.  I sent one to a client on creative ways to care for everyone and she shot back:

“I believe this is Liberal rhetoric. 

Esp the paragraph below:

 This current emergency provides the possibility for a new emergence—the birthing of a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people and the living Earth. “

Oh well. We can’t have a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people, now can we?

Sigh.

 Brilliant writing is being penned right now, since the entire planet’s human inhabitants are barely one degree of separation away from this virus, which is apparently ‘barely alive’ and therefore hard to kill, as it spreads onward to make millions miserable and hundreds of thousands die.

I’m saving articles from The Atlantic, The NY Times, and the Washington Post, and following a historian named Heather Cox Richardson who writes a daily blog called Letters from an American. In a recent post she writes:

“The big news … has been the ‘protests’ of state governors’ stay-at-home orders and mandatory business closings to try to contain the novel coronavirus …These protests are a classic example of trying to control politics by controlling the national narrative. The protests are backed by the same conservative groups that are working for Trump’s reelection. …These are not spontaneous, grassroots protests. They are political operations designed to divert attention from the Trump administration’s poor response to the pandemic. Even more, though, they are designed to keep the American public divided so that we do not protest the extraordinary economic inequality the pandemic has highlighted.

These protests have diverted the national conversation by turning a national crisis into partisan division along the lines the Republican Party has developed since the 1980s... The change of subject protects not just Trump but also the ideology at the heart of his Republican Party. Since 1981, Republicans have argued that the economy depends on wealthy businessmen who know best how to arrange the economy—the makers-- and that it is vital to protect their interests. Under their policies, wealth in America has moved upward. The pandemic has highlighted how these policies have removed economic security for ordinary people. They cannot pay their bills, and they might well turn against an ideology that uses our tax dollars to bail out corporations while they must risk their lives to pay their rent.”  [Emphasis mine]

I am so glad someone smarter than me can reveal the interconnections of what’s going on politically.

There is food for thought on Facebook and Instagram: in the guise of a rewrite of Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese, this poem.

Mary Oliver for Corona Times (after Wild Geese)

by Adrie Kusserow

You do not have to become totally zen, You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better, your body slimmer, your children more creative. You do not have to “maximize its benefits” By using this time to work even more, write the bestselling Corona Diaries, Or preach the gospel of ZOOM. You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn everything capitalism has taught you, (That you are nothing if not productive, That consumption equals happiness, That the most important unit is the single self. That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine). Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold, the ones you sheepishly sell others, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling. Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills, suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks. Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting, Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind, a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors. Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds, Could birth at any moment if we clear some space From the same tired hegemonies. Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch, Stunned by what you see, Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins Because it gives you something to do. Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing, Do not let capitalism coopt this moment, laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart. Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath, Your stress boa-constricting your chest. Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods, are no less sacred than a yoga class. Whoever you are, no matter how broken, the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over announcing your place as legit, as forgiven, even if you fail and fail and fail again. remind yourself over and over, all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body all have their place here, now in this world. It is your birthright you be held deeply, warmly, in the family of things, not one cell left in the cold.

-Adrie Kusserow

 Not one cell left out in the cold. Yes.

There is so much to be grateful for. I have a place to live, and even while paying off my bankruptcy debt, I have plenty. Enough that I can make small donations here and there. Here’s one cause I found: supporting foster children who were in college and now have no place to go. (Terrible visuals for the logo: it’s “Together We Rise.”)

Soon, the nights of below freezing temperatures will pass, and both Lesbians of Paisley will be healthy at the same time.  Perhaps I’ll get my Tricycle-for-Grownups serviced and toodle around for exercise. Perhaps the Stitch & Bitch knitting/crochet gatherings will resume, maybe in a park for physical distance and social connection.

And maybe I’ve already had Covid-19, and so has Valerie. Looks like 50-70% of all the people on the planet, not quite 8 billion humans so maybe 4 to 6 billion people, need to catch this thing in order to give our species herd immunity. Or WILL catch it because we have no way to stop it, only to slow the infections so that health care is not overwhelmed. We live and Love in the Time of Coronavirus, to paraphrase Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I maybe a libtard, a snowflake, a lily-livered liberal, who’s heart bleeds. But I agree with this sentiment, found on Facebook, our American ‘commons’:

Love absurdly and abundantly, my people. And wash your hands. 

[elizabeth-234]

A Night She won’t Soon Forget

Previous Chapter Three: A Day When Someone New Comes to Midtown

Hi all! Hope you are staying safe and doing well.

Warning: swearing, corporeal punishment

Chapter Four: A Day Gone Wrong

Flash grinned a wide and toothy smile, and Penny resisted moving away as the insect tried to crawl up the sides of the glass.

“Do you think it will work?” Penny said in a low tone, scanning the room for intruders. There were two other kids in the corner mummering to themselves but otherwise they were alone in the dormer.

“Of course, it will and it’s what the bitch deserves, isn’t it?”


Penny shifted and looked back down at the jar. The spiders crawled Flash caught crawled up the and inside the glass. She glanced at Flash under her eyelashes. The boy was one of the newer kids here. With the holidays coming up they were getting more children.

Flash was only just taller than her but what he lacked in height, he made up with in mischievousness. In the short time he’d been at Midtown, Betty had woken up to garbage and their dirty laundry, mop rags and all, in her bed twice. His voice, loud and piercing, drew Mrs. Delores’s disapproving attention and Flash’s chore list continued to grow by the day. Attention was never a good thing at Midtown.

She shied away from him until he approached her after her last punishment. Anger bubbled under her skin and demanded retribution Flash offered gleefully. Without a thought she accepted his request imaging they would switch her paperwork around or tying her boot laces together.

Now that her emotions had cooled and the pain was more of a phantom ghost, Penny was beginning to regret her hasty decision. The bundle of nerves tingled in her stomach. They warned her with every look at Flash this wasn’t a good idea. Revenge, no matter how small, would never sooth the hurt she was feeling.

Flash lifted the glass; his hand uncovered the top and dropped another spider into the jar. One black mass moved along the glass but as Penny inspected it closer she could see dozens of individual spiders looking for escape.

“Okay, you know the plan, right?”

Their little legs tried to crawl to the opening of the jaw only to slide down in the last inch, away from freedom. Their own window of the dormer was in her periphery and Penny had an odd moment of union with the spiders. She empathized with them. Too many times had she pressed her hands against the window, staring out into the world and wishing for escape. The urge to slam the glass into the ground setting the glass cage open surged in her chest and her hand twitched.

“Penny,” He said and nudged her shoulder to get her attention. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

His mouth was pulled tight and she swallowed under the weight of his eyes.

“N-no, Flash, of course not.” Penny said not wanting any dirty laundry in her bed the next morning.

“Good, you’re going to make sure she’s in her office and if she is you know the plan.”

“Why can’t I…”

“We already agreed. I’ll set up here. You go.”

Her feet dragged along the floor as she grumbled to herself. They didn’t really agree and she didn’t want to do this anymore. Trouble was beginning to seem like her middle name and Penny didn’t like it one bit. But as she walked down the stairs Penny was big enough to admit there was a part of her, a tiny part she wanted to squish down that was excited at the chance to prank Mrs. Delores. Its child-like face grinned at the thought of seeing Mrs. Delores squirming with discomfort.

Flash was right. She did deserve it.

Penny got onto her hands and knees. She peered under the office door. A pair of lace-up boots tapped under the desk as Mrs. Delores hummed off-key. Penny suppressed a giggle as she backed away from the door and settled against the wall with knees pressed against her chest.

Next stage of the plan was to count to thirty while she waited. At fifteen Penny stood and brushed off her pants. At ten she placed her hand on the doorknob and breathed in. And as she counted to zero, Penny opened the door making sure it bounced off the wall with a clang and ran into the office. She dropped her jaw and made she her eyes were wide.

“Mrs. Delores, Mrs. Delores. You’ve got to help. It’s Betty! She was trying to dust the moldings and fell off the ladder. Her arm doesn’t look right at all. She’s screaming and crying everywhere up there in the dormer.”

For all Penny disliked Mrs. Delores, the women’s face drained of color at her words. Not even questioning that it was Penny relaying the information or that she gave Betty different chores to do, she stood up, pushing Penny out of the way and into the desk before running out of the office.

Of course, Betty was in the kitchen today but she was one of Mrs. Delores’s favorites.

The office drooped without its master inside. Papers and bottles were scattered along the surfaces, and in the corner shrouded in the shadows hide a pile of confiscated toys Penny was itching to dig through. Maybe Mr. Teddy was in there.

Instead she walked around the desk and noticed the envelope the new woman brought the other day. It was sitting with crisp white edges amongst all the other paperwork. Her hand reached out and grabbed it up before she realized what she was doing.

Inside the envelope were a bunch of official documents with fancy fonts. All of them were stamped with a circular crest. She brushed her thumb against the raised marking. A helmet like the knights in Betty’s picture book was in the middle surrounded by a flowing script. Its mien was all straight lines, giving the appearance of a determined face. The writing wrapped around the head with intricate knots entwined with the words.

Penny wished she could read it.

As she scanned the document there were a couple of words that looked familiar. She spotted ‘orphanage’ often enough in the papers to recognize it from the sign hanging outside. The wire chains connecting the sign to the post were rusty and cracked, leaving the whole welcome on a vertical angle, pointing not to the front door but to the ground underneath. It wasn’t often Penny passed the sign because they were only allowed to leave out the backdoor but it was the first thing she saw about the building before she took in the crumbling bricks and sun washed door.

There was also a word starting with an ‘S’. Ned tried to teach her some of the alphabet; Her name was easy now, but she couldn’t quite make out this word together. Penny began to go through each letter, like Ned taught her. There was an ‘E’ next and after that a ‘B’ or was that an ‘R’? She smiled at the knowing it was a ‘K’ at the end. Her first time seeing a ‘K’ she mixed it up with the ‘N’ in Ned’s name. The whole week after that she began calling him Ked much to his dismay.

“Sterk? What a weird word.”

She wiped her hand on her pants before bringing it up to smooth over the word. It was the same word etched inside the crest on the top of the page and Penny assumed it was a name by the regal font used.

Penny was reaching for the next stack of papers when a scream erupted upstairs. Her thoughts scattered along with the papers in her hands. They floated away from her and settled on the floor as she heard hasty footsteps. Mrs. Delores came marching down the stairs and her breath caught. She’d failed to complete step three: get out of the office and make herself scarce.

Her feet were frozen on spot and Penny was helpless to do anything besides watch as Mrs. Delores came back into her room. Most of the spiders were gone by the time she shut the door but the woman kept brushing her clothes and raking her shaking hands through her hair. Mrs. Delores’s breathing was harsh and when she exhaled, thinking she was alone in the room, the corner of her mouth twitched.

Penny waited for the ground to open and swallow her whole.

She turned from the door and her eyes fell onto Penny.

“You…” The woman said, stalking forward. Her face reddened at the sight of Penny standing there with her papers disturbed. “I should have known.”

The office shrunk down until it was the two of them. She grabbed Penny by the upper arm and pulled her close. Penny whimpered at the burning in her muscles and a grunt escaped her when a hand came down against her behind.

“You ungrateful, little bitch.” Mrs. Delores punctuated this by another slap.

Penny couldn’t hold off the tears running down her face but she pressed her lips together so no sound would emerge from her. Mrs. Delores twisted her around so they were face to face and poked her finger into Penny’s chest.

Mrs. Delores griped her arm again causing another burn to echo down to her fingers and dragged Penny across the floor and to the door.  

“Stop, Mrs. Delores, please.” She cried to deaf ears.

Penny was dragged into the hallway and she saw of Flash and some of the other children huddled on the stairs peering down. Flash had the decency to look alarmed but it didn’t stop the Penny from feeling the burn across her back and cheeks.

Mrs. Delores spotted them and whipped Penny in front of her, grabbing her hair so her head was tilted back and neck was exposed. Penny could see the bottom of her chin. The layers underneath squished together like a molten bagpipe as she spoke.

“Let this be a lesson to you little Bastards. There will be punishments and there will be repercussions when I find out who else was behind this. Penny here will have the luxury of telling me who else was involved.”

She twisted them around, dropping Penny’s head which hung against her chest, and headed them for the basement stairs. Penny’s heart dropped at the sight of the old door.

“No, please. I…”


“Quiet, unless you want to tell me whose idea that was.”

Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t give Flash up because he would be in trouble. Why pile more misery around? His lunches for the week were already taken away for the other prank he pulled on Betty and Penny shivered to think what Mrs. Delores would do next if she knew about his involvement in this disaster. Her protests died leaving her shoulders limp as they continued on, but the decision didn’t stop a whimper from escaping.

A harsh cuff to the back of her head sent her thoughts spinning and behind the buzzing erupting in the back of her skull she thought she could hear Mrs. Delores sharp voice reprimanding her.

They went into the basement and the door to the room with the sink was opened. Mrs. Delores threw her onto the floor in the room. Dirt flew into the air around her. The dust cloud enveloped her and Penny’s chest heaved as she coughed in the contaminated air.

Mrs. Delores forced Penny into the chair. She wound the rope around Penny’s wrists uncaring of the friction and pinching she was causing. Her voice was heavy against Penny’s ear as she worked.

“I hope you’re happy.”

Mrs. Delores stepped back and Penny was an insect under her eyes, insignificant and worthless.

“You’re going to think about why you’re here and when I let you out, if I do, you’re going to apologize till I’m happy. No don’t say anything now. I don’t want to hear it.”

Penny closed her eyes as the door shut, sending another dust cloud into the room.

Under the cover of darkness Penny’s tears fell freely. They made their trek down her cheeks and chin dropping to her lap where they sunk into her clothes; invisible but apparent in the dampness stuck against her skin to Penny.

Penny cried loud and with shameless abandon. The walls were thick enough no one could hear. When the reserve of her emotion was all but dried up Penny thought about the lady with the blonde curls and her perfect smile. A new wave of tears fell.

-

Light and sound filtered back into her world.

The door opened and through red crusted eyes Penny watched as Flash peeked his head through the slot in the door. He swallowed but squared his shoulders and walked toward her.

The sounds of the rope untying permeated the room and Penny jumped back into the chair when Flash put a hand on her shoulder. His youthful face was marred with lines allowing Penny a glimpse at the serious adult he could become if left in this place.

“Are you alright?”

Penny smiled weakly and nodded, though the action brought stars to her eyes.

Flash hurried to the sink and filled up a small glass sitting there with water. Once by her side again he lifted it to Penny’s lips and let her take shallow sips until the itching in her throat abated. He smiled as she drained the glass but she didn’t return the sentiment.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led them to the door. She shivered at the touch but rested against him with increasing reliance as they continued. Her body froze when they got to the doorway out to the main part of the basement at a thought.

“I can leave?” She asked in a low voice so no one could hear. Flash chuckled without humor but Penny wasn’t going to risk anything for a jailbreak. This had to be above board or she wouldn’t take another step.

“Yes, she didn’t want to look at you so she sent me down here. Don’t worry.” Her lips pressed together and Penny wanted to bite she had a reason to worry, that it was his fault she was worried, but she remained silent.

Flash helped her up the stairs. Once on the landing he steered them away from the office and they began to climb the stairs to get to the dormer. Her breath came in short bursts by the time they were halfway and he stopped them on one of the landings without her request. Penny braced herself against the wall and Flash trying to gulp down the air. They continued on once she wasn’t seeing grey spots. The two made it to the dormer and to her bed. Thankfully the room was empty of anyone else and Penny could struggle to get under the sheet in peace.

She lay down and curled away from him. He hovered where he had helped her into bed, shuffling his feet back and forth. Penny squeezed her eyes shut willing him away.  

“Penny, I’m so sorry.” He said.

The covers fell down her shoulder when she shrugged and after a moment, heard his footsteps walking away.

Penny was left longing for company with no voice to ask. All she wanted was warm strong arms to hold her but the small fire her heart guarded over was growing smaller as each day passed. The sun’s reflection in the window caught her eye and Penny sent a silent prayer up to the sky that someone would come for her and she would break free from this glass cage.

Resources: Mrs. Delores's shoes would be like this 1930's lace-up boot Did anyone catch the line from Wicked?

Thank you!

Taglist: @whatisthou @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Five: A Day She Receives Some News

[eldritchsurveys]

763.

Was your childhood wasted by something? >> Nah, not really. I mean, I could argue that my creative potential was definitely wasted by all the adults around me, because all they cared about was that I could read real good.

Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? >> What does “like a normal person” mean, what the fuck is a normal death? Complications from old age? Cancer? Being hit by a car? Like. Anyway, however I die, I just want to be a little less afraid than I expect to be.

Have your parents ever put you on a diet? >> No.

Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? >> Not as far as I’m aware.

Do you have a gag reflex? >> Yeah, but it’s not crazy-sensitive or anything. It’s average, I guess.

Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? >> Sure, I guess. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to try shrooms with a tripsitter or a therapist.

Have you ever put gum in someone’s hair? >> No.

Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? >> I had plenty of sex before I was married. By the time I got married, I was rather sick of it and had quit altogether.

Have you ever not gone to school, just because? >> No, because my father would have found out and I was appropriately afraid of him.

Do you know anyone who can play the bagpipes? >> No.

Have you ever let someone hit you? >> I mean, I’ve subbed before.

Do you own a hand warmer? >> No.

Do you have friends in other states/countries? >> Yes.

Do you ever pay attention during church? >> On the rare occasion that I do go, yeah, I pay attention. If I wasn’t going to do so, I might as well not go.

Do you have self control? >> I have some.

Have you ever broke a window? >> No.

When was the last time you freaked someone out? >> I don’t remember. I hate people being freaked out by me having meltdowns or other reactions to overload/being overwhelmed, like I’m some kind of dangerous creature who should be avoided until it acts human again, so I try to get that out of the way in private instead.

Have you ever gone on a date with a weirdo? >> *shrug*

Who’s the last person you called a bitch? >> It’s always Sparrow, because we say “bitch” to each other so often.

Do you drink kool-aid? >> No, I hate Kool-Aid.

Have you ever dropped something hot on your foot? >> Probably. But I more often drop something frozen on my foot, like when shit falls out of the freezer. Big ouch.

Do you watch porn?: >> I have a very particularly curated collection of videos that I sometimes use.

Have you ever missed someone you hated? >> I don’t hate anyone.

Is anyone in your family disabled? >> ---

What do you want for Christmas? >> It’s early May, dude.

How many moles do you have? >> I don’t know.

Do you make your bed everyday? >> I never make my bed.

Do you know how to ride a bike? >> Yeah.

Do you own any comic books? >> Yeah, I have the Promethea collection.

What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? >> ---

Do you know anyone who has been raped? >> Yeah.

Are you an atheist? >> I am uninterested in locking down my interest in and potential for spiritual experience thusly. I don’t care to participate in the worship of gods, so in that specific context, I guess “atheist” could be appropriate? Regardless, it’s still too reductive.

Have you ever owned a goldfish? >> No.

Who was the last person to call you beautiful? >> *shrug*

How many times have you been stung by a bee? >> Zero.

What was the last flavor of gum you chewed? >> Mint.

When was the last time you used tape? >> I adjusted the gorilla tape on my headphones. Again. I’m so tired of dealing with that, I just want new headphones.

When was the last time you said fuck? >> I don’t remember.

Have you ever stolen something? >> Yeah, I’ve stolen a lot of somethings.

What’s the last movie you watched? >> The First Monday In May.

Who’s the last person you watched a movie with? >> I watched Blazing Saddles with Sparrow a few weeks ago.

Where were you yesterday at 5 PM? >> At my desk, playing Skyrim.

Who would you like to kiss right now? >> ---

When was the last time you had tic tacs? >> I don’t remember.

When was the last time you ate chicken? >> Yesterday, in curry.

Who was the last person you told to ‘Shut the fuck up’ to? >> I don’t remember the last time I said that to anyone.

Why were you last nervous? >> I don’t remember.

Whose pants did you last take off? >> Mine, and that’s it.

When was the last time you were disturbed? >> This morning, thinking about a dream I had.

Why did you last feel awkward? >> I have no idea.

When was the last time you got in a fight with your best friend? >> ---

Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? >> Probably.

Who was the last person you read a book to? >> I don’t read books to anyone.

Who is the person you say the most naughtiest things to? >> King Crimson, probably, lmao.

Who was the last person to send you a letter? >> ---

How do you feel about war? >> I find it abstractly interesting when reading about history and such, but I want nothing to do with it in reality.

Do you like cupcakes or muffins more? >> Neither.

Have you ever pushed someone on purpose? >> Yep.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? >> Yep.

[naenae00love]

Waffle Crew Moments(Spoilers!!)

So I have been doing this for a while. All of the quotes aren’t exact and I do miss words and funny things that happened.

I did miss my boo (at being reminded of escher)

You friends are invited to the wedding (Holly while muted shakes her head throws her snacks and disappears from frame)

Escher looks Paultin up and down disapprovingly and says we must get you fitted for a suit.

Now I have a lot of questions but I won't turn down a good suit

Time for another costume change Paultin

As Evelyn makes little noises of protest paultin coughs

Escher says: after everything is done then we can be together

Escher has been planning this since they left

Snort Count: 1

It's okay, you're perfectly safe, in fact you are perfect in every way. Thank you, I've missed you too

Escher wants to Paultin's side piece so bad

Escher speaks to her and Evelyn screams and tackles him

What in the name of holy morning lord is going on? A lot, yeah

Evelyn: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GROUND

Your engaged but you like this guy?

Oh that's, that's

*Points* You like him?

Evelyn does not ship this

That suit of armour wasn't there before. Oh is that what you're worried about when we are back in freaking Barovia? I've already peed myself over that. I've soiled my drawers okay? Does that make you happy? *Nate nods silently*

You think it might be the shadow of Strahd. What? I'm done, bye. *Holly leaves* But Strix... *Waves hand in frame* I'm gone. I'm not here. I'm under the desk, Strix is under the desk.

Strix: BUT WE ALREADY DID A LEAVE IN BAROVIA!?!

(It would be Strahd but it has Paultin's head) Let's call it Straultin. No! There is no Straultin.

Straultin Von Seppa, first of his name

What are you going to do? Slap me with your puppet hands.

Who is the master? I would also like to know, this pertains to me.

Evelyn is a strong independent puppet who don't take no lip, Escher

You should probably let that one stand back up. Why? I.. Because he likes me

How could you see me when I'm invisible? *Rolls his eyes*

Escher is at sass level 1000 right now

I'll put a pin that statement. LET'S NOT PUT PINS IN THINGS IN BAROVIA

Sees the mongrel folk called Cyrus again from when he was in the prison. *Snaps and points fingers* Ayye!! Cyrus: It's about time. It's good to see you too friendo. Let's go! Okay.

Once he is finished meeting with his friends, take him to his quarters so he can be fitted for a suit. I will be waiting for you there, my love. I'll be seeing you there, dude.

Paultin gets to meet all of his Barovian buddies

We have a rocky history and bringing up exes is kinda weird but

But you're like not in league with evil right? cause the evil seems to be in league with you. Putting another pin in that one. We'll get to it, don't worry I got this. *Mouths: I don't got this. I don't*

Waffles squeezes in between Diath and Strix. She's here too!? You shouldn't be here! I can't believe you brought the baby

The shadow is moving along the wall. *Quiet from Diath* No, no. Strix: I hate this so much. I hate this. We have to leave. No we have to stay under the desk. It is our new home. Starts to tidy up. So Waffles is the bed.. No Strix we are not living in Barovia. We were able to leave before, we can do it again.  No this desk is our new home, shut up! I don't wanna be hear. Neither do I!

Strix: We live here...AGAIN

Strix hugs Evelyn!!  I don't think you can smell me, which is great for you. It is very nice.

Strix only bonds with inanimate objects

Paultin: Diath, I need a best man

Hand Friend is gonna give Diath a wet willy

Diath throws the hand across the room. Come on dude.

Diath holds Evelyn's hand and says we'll fix you. You always do.

Cyrus: I've never had a friend!

Evelyn wants to cry, but we've established that she can't

*Paultin turns to Cyrus* Come on I'm right here. I'm just your servant. Oh no, don't, don't, come on. don't be like that.

Strix: Would you like some snickety snooks?

Strix offers jerky. I don't eat strange food. Well then we're not friends *puts the jerky back*

And you're not supposed to offering my any lip. Now I offered friendship but I can stop being nice if you want.

Everyone had relationships I don't know about!

Evelyn missed literally all the ships

Basically, I'm kinda fucked, so I don't know what to do, kind of panicking. Thoughts?

Strix what do we do? I don't know this kind of magic. Evelyn what do we do? We leave.

Wonder where Drizzt got off to...

Paultin approaches his shadow and it moves away from him. Come on dude

Sandy is off doing his own thing now thanks to Strix

Waves at the shadow. Shadow proceeds to have its cloak turn into bat wings. Stops waving.

Omg, I'm a bat King.

Paultin: wave rescinded

Time to study up before the wedding tonight

If we were to leave, where would we even go? Away..

This is my house now, I live under this desk

ROBOT FIGHT!!!

breaking stuff, no bueno, running, no bueno

Let's not encourage Darth Paultin, Diath!

Do I get a suit? Does he get a suit?

We'll have to find something for you Sir. It may not fit perfectly but it will have to do. Don't worry about it, it's fine.

Oh a lovely CREATURE you say

Diath is definitely talking about killing someone

What about Paultin? Are we just gonna leave him with that guy? For now

Of course 'animal friend' was Evelyn's takeaway

You know, just casually wandering around Castle Ravenloft

You already have so much to worry about. I was only thinking of you. So sweet. I only ever think of you. Too sweet.

If it wasn't forbidden I'd be all over you now, but that would be improper.

Still a better love story than Twilight

Holly holds up a sign reading RUN AWAY!!!!

Forever will have a new meaning for you after tonight. So romantic

Paultin sits next to Escher on the bed. I can barely control myself. I'm sure.

Some romantic bagpipes to score this scene

All those wonderful sunny times in Barovia

Strix has indeed proven that MOST things can burn

Evelyn you see what appears to be 3 witches riding on brooms coming towards the castle. Jared: No *goes off screen* (The moment you roll a nat20 on a stealth check) Strix pulls her hat down

Strix turned Diath into a cloud. Strix: Here Diath, have a magical time out

Have you learned to perform any tricks with that hand?

Paultin: Let me tell you about this hand...

Rolls a Nat 20 on persuasion for a 28. After Escher brushes his hair away Paultin puts his hand on the side of his face leans in to him and puts his forehead against his. The dark powers won't let this be will they? They always get their way. If only there was some other way out of this and then maybe this could actually happen.

A nat 20? Oh my...

Oh. THAT bride...

Hard pass *on a sign Holly holds up*

Paultin takes Escher's hand. *Jared singing quietly* I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid.

And Paultin and Escher elope. The End.

Diath doesn't care about the wedding , he just doesn't likes these brooms

What if Waffles was the ring-bearer? Wouldn't that be cute? *Nate nods silently*

Paultin and Escher enter the chapel. Is Paultin looking fly? He isn't in his suit, just the raven get up. Aw. So, yes! Yes, you're looking very fly. Still holding hands.

What if Hand Friend was the ring-bearer though?

Strix sees Paultin and Escher holding hands and she is just like aw.

Paultin: yes, Abbot, I've prepared my 'vows'

Paultin winks at Escher has Escher exits the chapel

Tweet: The #wafflecrew IS FINALLY GETTING GAY

Strix's brother is skulking around the chapel. Holly moves off screen again and waves a hand at the camera: Well, it was nice knowing ya'

Paultin is getting the best wedding he neither wanted nor needed

Oh good. Here come the zombies.

Bridesmaids? Paultin didn't even ask us if we wanted to be bridesmaids

You see materialising in his hand is a golden mace. I'm sorry?

The Abbot grows giant black wings and tells Paultin what he must do. Is that clear? *Yells* Is that clear? Crystal. Ends

I'm having a good time. There's brooms down there just you wait.

The witches skipped out like fuck it we're out of here.

No session next week. Ah! But my wedding!

Thanks them for being awesome and I'm sorry I torture you on a weekly basis. No you're not! We enjoy it.

[bastionkeeper]

27 or 33 or 46 prompt for Sophomore Samurai Jack au.

Thanks for the prompt! Just a reminder to everyone these prompts are just random short snippets from the Sophomore Jack AU, not in order so anything goes sophomore-senior year nvn

27. “Can we go someplace high so I can jump off it?”

“What if I just...” Jack groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “...like...”

“What if ya just sat down and stopped being a damn idiot,” Scottie growled, rolling his eyes. The four friends were up on the roof of the school with a couple of drinks. Jack had walked over to the edge and was exercising a bit of morbid humor by suggesting he throw himself over it.

“Sensei if you jumped I would legit jump after you, don’t test me,” Samurai said, without even looking up from his 3DS.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t jump after you but like,” Thief started, taking a swig from his Arizona tea, “I’d slap your corpse. And draw dicks on it. Super dishonorable.”

“I’d stop ya in the first place,” Scottie said loudly, folding his arms over his chest. “Then I’d kill ya myself. We love ya, ya bloody dork.”

“Thank you, friends,” Jack laughed, sitting safely down on the ledge.

33. “Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence.”

“Where’s Jack?” Thief asked Scottie, eyes glued to a bundle of letters in his hands. “I wanted to know if I could go through this week’s batch of locker love letters.”

“Over there.” Scottie pointed, sucking on a soda straw and watching what appeared to be the beginnings of a fight intently.

“Foolish Sakai, do you think your family will ever accept you home again after you dishonored them like that?” Aku cackled.

“It was your actions that did this to me!” Jack yelled back. “I suspect because of your jealousy.”

“Me? Jealous of you?” Aku growled. 

“Or perhaps scared?” Jack smirked, a rare sight for all but his closest friends and worst enemies. “If you were not scared you would come over this fence and fight me!”

Truely, Aku was standing on the other side of the fence that encircled Jack’s school. Demongo was close by, pulling faces at Jack and his friends. Jack and Aku looked seconds away from ripping the fence apart and going at it.

“Whoa, I love when he gets like this,” Thief laughed.

“Aye, me too,” Scottie said. “...do you think we should help him?” he added, when Jack began to climb the fence, and Aku began throwing random objects from his backpack at him.

“Dude, do you wanna get in between those two? I ain’t got a death wish.” 

46. “Shut up, I am a delight!” 

It was a common phrase used by all of Jack’s friends.

When Scottie was playing bagpipes at two in the morning:  “Shut up, I am a delight!”

When Thief “somehow accidentally” found your stuff in his pockets:  “Shut up, I am a delight!”

When Da Samurai got too loud during lunch: “Shut up, I am a delight!”

Maybe they were a bit irritating, but they were also Jack’s best friends.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I am mildly amused this morning that I can write about something quantitatively shitty.  For all the stuff I write, it’s generally half dealing with the constant emotions surrounding failure.  I fail a lot out here.  It might make me seem and look like a loser.  I think sometimes that’s the whole point.  Everything out here seems to fail or hit an invisible brick wall.  I’ve never expected to be able to illustrate so succinctly other than using pretty words on here week after week.  But yesterday was a pretty clear indicator that it’s more than just a wall.  A wall of bagpipes maybe.  It’s some kind of noise for some people.  For me it’s a clear slap on the wrist for things I shouldn’t be doing.  Like living my life or pursuing liberty.  Everybody around this town walks around like their freedom is definitely more important than yours.  I’ve caught so many neighbors minding other people’s business.  Everybody has to be in the same place at the same time whenever you leave the house.  I’ve been taking the drone I bought to two specific places over the last month or two.  I bought a drone to learn it for job opportunities.  I applied for a developer account for public safety.  Since then I’ve flown it in the park across the street and in an abandoned lot near the train yards.  I remember the day clearly when the cop sat watching me with his trunk popped open blaring bagpipe music.  It felt weird and surreal.  Yesterday I made the same slow walk over to the graffiti wall over there.  The footage I took from there had been messed up recently.  The memory card just mysteriously corrupted and my dongle nowhere to be found to format it.  I just got a microsd reader in the mail and had reformatted so I was ready to fly that day.  I laid the drone down on the sidewalk and saw the red warning.  Authorization code.  I typed in my cellphone number and awaited a text that never came.  I started to walk back from the yards to the park.  I made it to the soccer field and sat down on a giant cubs logo.  Same message.  I type in the cellphone number for authorization.  The minute I do there’s a gentlemen next to me out of nowhere.  “Did you know none of the water fountains on this field are working?”  Like he expected an answer.  It’s classic in this town.  If you are having problems, somebody is right by your side ready to sell you a revolution.  Really it’s about picking sides in a losing battle.  I was tempted to reply that you didn’t want to be drinking out of those lead pipes anyway.  But I just nodded.  He walked away.  I laid back on the cubs logo and closed my eyes.  I felt for a moment like I was laying on the surface of the planet.   Just as I opened my eyes a bearded white gentlemen made it a point to walk past me on a nearly empty field.  He smirked at me an ominous look and walked away.  The airspace for the park was indeed locked down.  It did feel like somebody just wanted to relish the look on my face.  Wanted to see the same look I’ve had for almost a year.  The look isn’t spite.  It’s not hate, fear or anger.  It’s a look I like to call “I told you so.”  This look is more directed at myself.  What did I expect after all this bullshit I write about?  A clear middle finger.  A sure sign that this city doesn’t particularly like me.  I came home and booted the drone on the kitchen table.  The red warning message was gone.  I didn’t fly it for fear it might get bricked on private property.  My dreams of being free coopted by snitches maybe.  Whatever it is.  I was able to fly and now I’m not.   Very simple observations that will be gaslighted into infinity until the next thing I try to do in this free country of yours..

You watch somebody I get it.  Street wear you watch the streets for fashion.  In Chicago, you watch to punish.  To subvert.  To infiltrate.  To data mine.  To promote public safety.  To moderate opportunity.  I have no idea at this point why they do it.  It’s hard to describe this city let alone this country as anything but authoritarian.  It has a great PR and propaganda machine that seems to be flying off the rails.  I try to write about this week after week.  I really would rather just be away from it all.  It’s about the same feeling I have as when they threw out everything in my office.  I’ll get over it.  This feels like an elaborate exile and punishment for a dissident in his hometown.  It all adds up stressfully for me.  But to watch somebody do something creative for the fifteenth time and shut them down in an organized, big brother fashion is wrong.  And that’s all this city can ever do.  There is no opportunity for a person like me here at all.  I’m sure it’s great to be from America on paper.  More so if you are part of a privileged class.  Chicago has it’s own kind of privilege that shows often.  It’s a nightmare hell scape of group think.  It’s worse than Cuba in regards to the mobs that patrol and watch every thing you do.  And at the same time, it’s a weak argument in a country that’s bigger than the offices corrupt politicians have bought out.  It’s a broken boomtown in atrophy.  It’s the wild west at times and more dangerous by far.  I sit here trying to figure out how to even continue to write about it without getting sick to my stomach.  I would dump it all and just leave if there were options.  And I continue to network every day on professional websites to keep those options open.  But just like the drone, I get locked out and picked on.  Why even write three paragraphs if there’s no solution?  I’m stuck.  Trapped in a situation people would rather not address.  They’d rather point the finger and claim I brought all this on myself.  And the finger pointing is just one huge circle at this point.  What else is there to say or prove?  Just stay indoors and play video games and wait for somebody to recognize me?  Even when it is about me in this city, somebody has to bandwagon on top.  When I can’t fly my drone, I’m supposed to mix with the general population and start a prisoner revolt over city water management?  I’m dangerous because I don’t fit in and this is because you’ve isolated a person like me into the neutral zone.  I might be overreacting about this airspace thing.  I realize that.  Just like every other week when I’ve written about something shitty I’ve been targeted with.  Only to explain it away like it’s my problem.  This city brings nothing but problems to the people who live in it.  It’s explained away in the news until nobody has the tolerance to listen to anything anymore.  It’s not like I’m invisible.  People can see me when they want to punish me.  When they want to teach me a lesson.  When they want to show me what real freedom in America is at the expense of my own.  That’s the bottom line of what’s going on here in my eyes.  And I can’t change it.  I’m supposed to join the larger movement and fit myself into values that aren’t my own.  I’m supposed to find my voice fighting other people’s problems.  I’m supposed to run for mayor in a town that is bought and sold by billionaires?  Or I can just find a job in Shanghai and slowly pivot away from the last few decades of people treating me like a joke.  I don’t know the answer right now.  All I know is that everything I try to do fails while people watch with sick and satisfying looks on their face.  I hate that look.  It’s the creepiest fucking look on earth.  

For as much as people talk about me behind my back, you can avoid some of the fallout.  People talking about where I shop for groceries to follow me around and fuck with me can be solved.  I can change where I shop.  I can have it delivered.  If I want to go for a walk and explore technology, I used to go fly my drone.  And people love to watch it and talk about it.  And weeks later now I can’t fly my drone anywhere.  Is it because people talked about it?  I don’t see anyone else flying in those areas.  What’s next?  Who would even put up with this shit anymore?  It’s a cheap city I’ll give it that.  I don’t feel comfortable anymore doing anything in it.  This would be understandable if you lived here in my shoes.  It used to be something I could explain away.  Like maybe I’m just difficult.  But really I’m just seen.  To be seen.  People move to New York to be seen.  They get jobs.  Acting careers.  Modeling gigs.  Book deals.  You get seen in Chicago, you are part of some revolutionary force that needs to be corralled or neutralized.  You get treated indifferently by neighbors cosplaying as secret police.  You wake up at five am and go to bed at nine to the hum of whispered footsteps.  You barely see anyone enter let alone leave your compound.  When you do, it always feels like somebody is keeping tabs on you.  You see your neighbors serendipitously so much that it’s not rocket science to understand you are being watched.  What fucking for?  Really.  A year of me living in some sort of soviet exile and what do I have to show for it?  Restricted airspaces.  Neighborhood watch.  Who the fuck is running this city the fucking mafia?  Truth hurts I guess.  So what am I to do all summer?  Play league of legends in the AC and shut the fuck up I guess.  I know it’s a lot to hear me bitch about a fucking drone.  But it’s more than that.  It’s the little infractions over time that paint a larger pattern of behavior.  This place is toxic for me at times.  I have a roof over my head.  I keep my finances in order.  And I wait for something that doesn’t ever come.  It does get worse.  And if anyone really thought of me as a friend I’m sure they’d read this and understand.  It will not get better for me in this situation.  It’s a clear message people want me to leave and yet there’s still no place to go.  I get excited sometimes.  People looking for jobs in Shanghai follow my professional blog.  It feels like a portal could open up someday.  Not with any help from anyone around here.  But I still have to live whatever is left of my life here.  I have to survive.  And it’s becoming increasingly evident that public space is not respectful of what I’m going through.  It’s almost militant at times.  This worries me.  I could type away for hours about the politics of it.  The politics make no sense.  America makes no sense.  It says one thing then does another.  It does it so blatantly that it bullies you into tribes.  If you don’t like it go change it.  If you care about this neighborhood than fight for it.  Like I haven’t fought an uphill battle for years.  We lost.  I lost.  I am not winning at all in this situation.  I’m being choked out until I just give up.  And in this I probably will come September.  Move on to somewhere where it doesn’t feel like death and punishment every minute of the day.  The shit I’ve seen and the way people have acted is worse than the shit we talk about communist countries.  And yet it’s never worth it to explain any further for fear of being gaslighted further into obscurity.  I can’t do anything without somebody having an opinion blocking my way.  And so I’m just not going to have an opinion about anyone who doesn’t give a fuck about me.  Which in this city seems to be a long list.  Was that the whole point of the census?  To count how many people don’t give a fuck?  You won.  I’m opting out of this hell scape. This airspace is restricted to angels with wings anyway.  <3 Tim

[travelworldnetwork]

By Rossi Thomson

22 November 2018

Had it not been for the sunny sky, I could have sworn that I was in Great Britain.

The high street was teeming with people, Union Jack flags were flapping in the wind, a slight aroma of fried cod tinged the air and the queens were waving to their starstruck subjects – Queen Elizabeth II from a gleaming car and her great-great-grandmother Victoria from underneath a lacy black parasol.

Schio has always been known as ‘the Manchester of Italy’

The time and space continuum seemed to have been broken, thus bringing two of the most formidable British queens together in the same, rather unexpected place. For instead of London, I was in a small Northern Italian town called Schio (pronounced 'ski-o').

This was British Day Schio – a weekend extravaganza dedicated to Great Britain during which the citizens of Schio declare themselves British. They dress up as British characters from past and modern times and even publish a newspaper (the headline of which this year proudly stated: La Citta' Piu' Britannica d'Italia!, ‘The Most British City in Italy!’).

“Schio has always been known as ‘the Manchester of Italy’,” said Claudio Canova, 51, a digital marketing specialist who conceived the idea for British Day Schio six years ago.

View image of British Day Schio is an annual celebration during which the residents of Schio, Italy, declare themselves British (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

You may also be interested in: • The last velvet merchant of Venice • A piece of Britain lost in Mexico • A town that’s more British than Britain

The reason behind Schio's moniker lies in the town's industrial history. Just like Manchester, Schio was once a major wool and textile production centre.

New wool-spinning and weaving technologies imported from England by the Venetian patrician Nicolò Tron led to the creation in 1718 of an important wool mill in Schio. Tron was an entrepreneur, friend of British mathematician Isaac Newton and former ambassador of the Republic of Venice to the court of King George I. His attempts to introduce the English know-how to Venice were rebuffed by the Republic’s influential textile corporations. So, Tron headed to Schio in the northern confines of the Republic. The town was a centuries-old wool-producing centre with cheap skilled labour, abundant raw materials and a license given to it by the Republic of Venice in 1701 to manufacture fine textiles independently of Venice’s textile corporations. He employed nine English technicians who relocated to Schio with their families to work in Tron’s new wool mill.

Several decades later, Tron brought another English invention to the small Italian town: the flying shuttle.

Invented by Lancashire-born machinist John Kay, the flying shuttle significantly sped up the weaving process, which increased productivity and reduced costs. It could also be mechanised, paving the way for the automatic looms.

Schio soon became synonymous with high-quality textiles, which were exported all over Europe and beyond.

View image of Schio’s connection to Manchester stems from its history as a major textile production centre (Credit: Credit: De Agostini Picture Library/Getty Images)

In the 19th Century, father-and-son duo Francesco and Alessandro Rossi (no relation to me) took Schio's textile production to new heights. Schio’s Fabbrica Alta, built in 1862 by Alessandro, who was inspired by the vertical woollen mills found in Manchester and throughout Great Britain, was the largest industrial plant in 19th-Century Italy. Today it is considered the imposing symbol of Italy's first industrial revolution.

Although now permanently closed, the Fabbrica Alta, with its tall body symmetrically dotted with 330 windows, is a testament to the close technological connection Schio has had with Manchester throughout the centuries, despite being almost 2,000km away.

“Add to this Schio's rainy weather and the grumpy character of its citizens, and you have the most British town in Italy,” Canova said.

View image of Built in 1862, Schio’s Fabbrica Alta was the largest industrial plant in 19th-Century Italy (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

British Day Schio evolved from SchioLife, a British rock-themed music festival spearheaded by Canova. “Since 2007, we have been organising concerts and had the opportunity to get in touch with many legendary musicians like Steve Hackett from Genesis, Sir Gary Brooker of Procol Harum, Rick Wakeman [the keyboardist of Yes] and Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull.”

“I realised that we live in the most British town of Italy and then we had to do something to highlight these characteristics,” Canova continued. “I think that after six years we have succeeded.”

Under the slogan of ‘Spicy. Independent. Original.’ – which according to Canova reflects the character of the citizens of Schio – British Day Schio has been enjoying an ever-increasing popularity since its inception. Held on the second weekend of October, the festival attracted more than 30,000 people in 2017. That year paid tribute to Oasis; the 2018 edition was in homage to Peter Gabriel.

Add to this Schio's rainy weather and the grumpy character of its citizens, and you have the most British town in Italy

“We choose the artists to whom we dedicate British Day Schio each year based on the social values they transmit. Peter Gabriel is one of the champions for peace in the world and his message is important for everyone. The first three editions of the festival were dedicated, respectively, to The Beatles, The Phantom of the Opera and Pink Floyd,” Canova explained.

“Who are you going to pay homage to next year?” I asked, only too eager to throw some names in the hat. You know, the best of British. Like Pet Shop Boys, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode…

Instead, the 2019 festival will be dedicated to Alessandro Rossi as it will be 200 years since his birth.

View image of The 2019 British Day Schio festival will be dedicated to Alessandro Rossi (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

I arrived in Schio in the early afternoon on the day of the festival this past October. The central streets of the town were lined with grand buildings in shades of ochre, toffee and burnt orange. Ladies and gents strolled the pavements dressed in their best British-inspired costumes.

The window displays of the local shops sported copious amounts of British paraphernalia: biscuit tins in the Union Jack colours, British stamps, leaflets for the London Eye, postcards of the Queen, little flags with Harry and Meghan's happy faces. Throughout town, famous locations like Abbey Road and Carnaby Street had been recreated. Even the local gelateria had slapped a large sign saying ‘Ice Cream’ on its window.

“From the youngest to the oldest, the citizens of Schio love this event,” Canova told me. “British Day Schio attracts thousands of people, dressed up in British-style attire or as famous characters such as Harry Potter, James Bond, Dr Who, Sherlock Holmes. They talk in English on the streets as if it were normal. They enter the shops and ask for things in English, greet people with ‘Hi!’, ‘Hello!’, and ‘Good morning!’.”

And it is all done without irony – a genuine expression both of an appreciation for Great Britain and Schio's own industrial past.

View image of British Day Schio takes place every autumn and includes street performances and a British-themed parade (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

“What will happen with British Day Schio after Brexit? Will you continue organising it?” I asked Canova.

“Certamente!” he replied. “Of course, we will continue to organise it. Indeed, with even bigger resolve.”

Manchester doesn’t know about British Day Schio yet. Canova’s plan is to contact the British city in the near future and build a relationship based on the historical link between the two cities.

“Will Brexit change how Schio feels about Britain?” I pressed.

“No, absolutely no,” he replied earnestly. “I think that the British citizens are historically always ahead compared to the rest of Europe and perhaps the world. I believe that the British people only want to defend their state from economic [and] financial invasions and not from the European citizens.”

View image of During British Day Schio, gelato shops advertise ‘ice cream’ and vendors dish up fish and chips (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

Later that day, I headed to the large terrace in front of Schio's St Pietro Cathedral. From there I could see the main piazza below me filled with hundreds of people waiting for the festival’s centrepiece – the British Day Schio parade – to begin. Beyond the rooftops, I could see the cragged peaks of the Little Dolomites.

A rousing rendition of Scotland the Brave filled the air. There was nothing to betray that the musicians – dressed in kilts and skilfully handling their bagpipes – were not from Scotland but from the nearby Italian city of Vicenza. A long procession of historic British cars followed. They were beautiful and shiny, representing the British technological and design advances through the decades.

I think that the British citizens are historically always ahead compared to the rest of Europe and perhaps the world

Suddenly the crowd surged forward, eager to see something that was beyond my line of sight. Straining my neck, I glimpsed a gleaming open-top vehicle surrounded by four guards with bearskin hats.

“It's the Queen!” I shouted in delight.

Resplendent and with a posy in hand, 'Queen Elizabeth II' was taking in the adoration of the crowd, bestowing upon us one of her trademark waves every now and then.

View image of During British Day Schio, actors dress as key British figures, including Queen Elizabeth II (Credit: Credit: Rossi Thomson)

You had to hand it to the organisers of British Day Schio. They’d managed to make even me – a Bulgarian totally uninterested in all things royal – giddy with excitement at the sight of the Queen.

While there is no shortage of festivals in Italy, British Day Schio is in a league of its own. Residents had adopted little bits and pieces of British culture and somehow managed to put them together in a red, white and blue puzzle held together by the pride in their own Italian town and its industrial history.

Most remarkably, the citizens of Schio had managed to master the notoriously hard-to-grasp British humour. You just had to look at the British Day Schio's newspaper where, in small red letters, it said: “The parade is to be held even in good weather!”.

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