#mortgage free community

[voidsentprinces]

Can’t fix Zenos. But you already got him down atrocious and you haven’t tried. Imagine if you tried. Imagine what you could accomplished. Thats right, you’d make him even MORE feral.

[invisibleicewands]

'There are warm spaces for people struggling with the cost of living thanks to Mirror readers'

Last year, in the grip of the worst cost of living crisis in generations, something amazing happened. First a handful, then hundreds, then thousands of spaces opened their doors to provide a warm space for anyone wanting one.

In a few weeks, partly thanks to the Mirror’s 2022 Christmas appeal, the Warm Welcome Campaign grew from an idea to a vital part of communities all around the country.

More than 17,000 volunteers gave their time and energy to ensure their friends and neighbours had somewhere to go every week.

Over 7,000 warm spaces hosted 2.5 million visits over the winter. The spaces were free and open to all, providing warmth, a cup of tea, a space to charge your phone and – often most importantly of all – a place to sit and talk to others.

People came together to help each other out in places of worship, libraries, town halls and others.

And didn’t we need it. Mortgages and rents were soaring, prices were rising faster than at any point in decades and then to top it all energy bills went through the roof. Seven million were pushed into fuel poverty.

A terrible choice between heating and eating was a reality for many.

The cost of living crisis is even worse this winter. Millions of families will be forced to make incredibly hard decisions. Children will go to bed cold, hungry or both.

It shouldn’t happen in a country like Britain. That’s why the Warm Welcome Campaign is so important.

It’s about creating a space for people to take the pressure off.

Over the festive period, Warm Spaces all over are open for events such as Christmas lunches, turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day, carol singing and arts and crafts.

Here in Port Talbot, the library is pulling out all the stops, from carol singing to children’s Christmas story times. There’s even a visit from Mrs Claus. So the message today is simple: There’s a Warm Welcome Space near you, open throughout winter.

[peachjagiya]

How Layover taught me self confidence

Or Why Biasing Kim Taehyung is good for your mental wellbeing

-----------

So I'm not even a year into being into BTS. I'm toddler army, I think since April? This video of the Sirius performance of Butter came up on my tiktok randomly and I Just Wanted To Know Their Names and now I'm here.

I didn't immediately bias Tae. I actually attached immediately to Jimin. I also thought Suga was grumpy and there was something going on between Jimin and JK cos I watched the official content and fell for the narrative 😇 (I wouldn't say I'm a former jikooker though. It lasted like a week then I got weird vibes from it 🤷)

I'm really into jazz and swing so Tae wrecked my bias with Le Jazz De V.

Then it really got serious with Layover. Specifically these pictures:

See this outfit rewired my brain.

Here's the thing: I'm a big girl and I've been uncomfortable in my skin and clothes for a long time. I'm also gay and that comes with a lot of style related baggage too. Don't dress too masculine, everyone will think you're a man-hating lesbian. You're wearing a dress, you don't SEEM gay.

It made me hate my style. Trying to dress to hide my figure but not look too baggy. Trying to be feminine but not too feminine, trying not to wear anything too masc, trying to be stylish, trying a lot of things that never worked for me. I have no gender dysphoria but I never felt happy in my clothes.

Then I saw a literal idol wearing baggy jeans and tee and looking so stylish with it and a switch flipped. Maybe a slender South Korean man isn't where I'd imagine finding inspiration as a British bisexualish plus size lesbian but I suddenly felt like a style was accessible to me. The jewellery, the effortless slouch... I tried it out and it sounds dramatic but it was like a fashion euphoria. I liked how I looked for maybe the first time ever. My tummy hidden but I still looked good and like I'd made an effort.

His queer coding is so important to me too. It doesn't matter to me what he turns out to be. His promotion of queer artists, films and music, genderless expression and demonstrated support for queer community, will always be important in helping me feel seen and valued regardless of whether his participation is as a queer man or as an ally.

And he has made me more accepting of my own neurodivergence. I'm a mum to a six year old. I do the school run and cook and pay my mortgage with my boring communications job and I'm really into BTS. It's a bit of an eyebrow raise for a lot of people. I'm not into diagnosing strangers but Tae's relentless ability to be himself, no matter how weird the rest of the world thinks he is, and being a hugely popular idol when the world tells you you can't be a bit of a free-thinker and successful at the same time... That's important!

So yeah. The other guys have qualities that comfort me too but Taehyung has had a profound impact on things that needed fixing in my brain.

And that's why he's my best guy THE END ask me anything I'll talk about Taehyung for hours.

(I'm sorry I ever thought you were just a grump, Yoongi.)

Are these dungarees/overalls backwards btw?

[lookingfts]

OMG! Kate and Violet as friends and Kate sleeping with Anthony. Give me more please 🙏

*sexy snippet below*

She’d had too much wine.

Two glasses, specifically, but she couldn’t quite drink herself stupid like she could in her twenties. They were big glasses.

There was simply no other excuse for where her mind kept wandering. To lush brown hair and obscenely buff arms and eyes that could go from kind to hungry in a blink. To a little smirk across the room, a raised glass, a tailored suit that probably cost more than her mortgage payment.

To Violet’s son.

Oof. That was a wildly unpleasant thought. Violet, who had been such a wonderful friend to her. Violet, who had given her a community when she had grown tired of isolating herself. Violet, who understood the trials of restarting after the end of a marriage.

Violet. Her best friend. Perhaps, Kate thought, her only friend.

And how was Kate repaying her? By getting sloshed on cheap wine and imagining Anthony Bridgerton fucking her.

The fantasy was just so good. He seemed to have this – sexual energy around him, all the time. A simmering desire that flared up at unexpected moments.

Was it simply because Kate was lonely and horny? Maybe. No, actually, because there were plenty of young women after him as well.

Kate laughed at herself, finishing off the last dregs. Anthony Bridgerton was sinfully attractive, devastatingly charming and rich to boot. He was twenty-five and staring at his whole life ahead of him.

Had he ever even been looking at her? Why would he? She was thirty-seven, divorced, at a crossroads in her life. Hell, even when she was his age, Kate had never been the type to walk into a room and command attention. That was Edwina, always Edwina.

Nothing good could come from dwelling on this. At best, she would find a way to mortify herself in front of Anthony. At worst, she would lose Violet’s friendship and the second stage of life she had gained because of it.

But she was still drunk. And still horny. And if it didn’t mean anything, if it never would, then what was the harm in indulging, just once? Tomorrow, she would shake off this stupid attraction and act like a functional adult.

Placing the glass in the sink – a task to be dealt with in the morning – Kate climbed into her bed, opening her side table. She had a few toys, but there was one that she returned to regularly. Laying back against the pillows, she turned on the vibrator and positioned it at the spot that would make her come quickly. Less time for her to flagellate herself over later.

Given free rein, her mind had no problem conjuring filthy fantasies. Fantasies of Anthony finding her in the library and pinning her against the bookshelf, getting on his knees and devouring her with the single-minded focus he always seemed to have. Fantasies of Anthony in her bed, her headboard banging against the wall as he took her from behind. Fantasies of Anthony coaxing her onto her knees, lewd noises dripping from his lips as she sucked him off.

Kate flipped over, burying her face in the pillow as she rocked her hips against the vibrator. If she tried, she could imagine Anthony’s silky voice in her ear, too. Good girl, Kate. You look good on my cock, there you go, I know you can take it, I’m not stopping until you come-

She did, moaning into the pillow as she shuddered. Turning the vibrator off quickly, she tossed it aside, collapsing back onto the mattress.

Staring at the ceiling, Kate tried to make sense of the feeling curling in her stomach. There was nothing between them. There never would be. Even if Anthony’s attentions were real, it was all temporary – a means to satiate his curiosity. And she would not sacrifice her friendship with Violet for something that meant so little.

Kate just needed to exorcise him. From her head, from her body, from everywhere he had taken root.

Why couldn’t she?

[hippielittlemetalhead]

So season 3. Let's do this!

This took so so so long and is not quite where/what I wanted it to be soooo... I am so sorry 😅🥲 this will most likely be 2 parts cause... Yeah, just life man.

Actually some dialogue in this one? Sure, a line or two, as a treat.

(Part1) (part2)

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy for a few weeks now and he feels like he's built a decent rapport with his coworker Robin. She's witty and snarky and opinionated and when Steve wears a more tinted lipgloss than he intended resulting in a customer clocking it and saying something rude that he can't help but smile his dead-eyed customer service smile at, she clocks out for her lunch early (and takes an extra 15 minutes) and comes back with a full face of makeup and shoos him into the back with the mascara she bought from the shop a couple stores over. They both start coming to work with at least mascara, eyeliner and lipstick and Steve loves it. He compliments the hand-drawn designs on her shoes and she asks where he got his rainbow heart pin. They mostly disagree on music they listen to -she still lets him drag her to a couple live music nights at The Hideout with him and Billy every now and then anyway- but their politics and basic life philosophies line up pretty well.

He could do without the 'You Rule / You Suck' board, especially when Billy gets in on it and adds tallies from a little notebook he starts keeping when he and Steve hang out outside of kids and work. And the jokes about his kids (and occasionally Billy) when they come through for free passage to the movies. And the jabs about his parents' money like he still has access to that or their house.

He doesn't tell her that he was cut off and disowned and kicked out. He doesn't tell her that he had to get a job to help pay for his community college courses because he was a disappointment that couldn't get into a pre-approved 4-year university and that meant no college fund and he was still a few years away from being 21 and having access to the trust fund his grandparents set up for him when he was still just a lump of forming cells. And even then anything in that will probably be blown on buying himself his own permanent place instead of just a hand-me-down trailer in the middle of the woods so he needs to save for things like bills and a mortgage.

He doesn't tell her that the reason he lets the kids get away with so much is because they're *his* and they've already seen more fucked up shit than the cops in this town (save Hop) and he'll be damned if they don't get to just be kids. He'll be damned if they decide he's someone they need to hide from and sneak around like they hide and sneak from Joyce and Hop cause that's how they didn't know about half the shit the kids got up to while the adults were doing their best to take care of things themselves. He doesn't tell her that he's paying "rent" to the chief of police (it's way less than he should be but it's all Hop would take).

He doesn't tell Robin a lot of things.

Then sometime after Robin finally warmed up to him but before Dustin comes back from camp, Eddie Munson walks into Scoops Ahoy, his metalhead nerdy entourage in tow. He orders a plain scoop of vanilla with sprinkles in a cup and one of the others also orders something small and simple (while longingly eyeing their diabetes-inducing, horribly artificial tasting, bubblegum flavor when Munson turns away) before all of them are squeezing into one of the largest booths, emptying out messenger bags and backpacks of overstuffed binders and scuffed up versions of very familiar looking textbooks. It's like looking at an older -slightly grungier- version of his kids.

"Gentlemen, now that 🎶school's out for summer🎶-" There's a musical lilt as he says it that sounds vaguely familiar to Steve, "-and it has been confirmed that I will in fact be held captive for yet another stint in the hell they call Hawkins High School it is time we confer and conspire for the next year of Hellfire and the little sheep that will be joining our flock." He kinda loses track of it after that because then his kids are rushing in demanding tasters of everything and edging towards the lifting part of the counter with a look in their eyes that speaks of mischief. He puts up the initial fuss about them only visiting him for his backrooms access and that they promised to only come over when there were no customers around. He lets them through anyway.

He notices Munson eyeing him as he puts the partition back in place shaking his head and Robin laughing at him as she washed their ice cream scoops. The one that's vaguely more familiar looking than the rest and reminds him of a taller, angrier, Dustin with a better hair regimen isn't quite glaring at him but is definitely paying more attention than the rest of Munson's posse and seems more suspicious than Eddie's curious.

The metalheads are still there when Billy shows up stinking of chlorine in clothes that are damp where they cling to his frame. The group loosens up a little when he shoots Steve his signature smug smirk as he shrugs on his denim jacket that -like Steve's own jacket hanging out of sight in the staffroom- had begun accumulating patches and pins since Neil's incarceration. Unlike Steve's, Billy's has homages to bands like Mötley Crue, Deff Leppard, Twisted Sister and Guns N' Roses with little trails of shakily embroidered flowers and constellations on the collar and hems and filling the spaces between the patches and pins. Billy also has a small pink triangle on the lapel where Steve has a rainbow. Steve pretends not to notice the way the group goes a little quiet as Billy starts his usual routine of sunnily demanding tasters of all the available flavors and then again with sprinkles to "-really get an idea of their ✨nuance✨, prettyboy" before deciding on a scoop of double chocolate with a scoop of raspberry vanilla in a cup with sprinkles and one of their fresh waffle cones on top. Like always.

"Really branching out there aren't ya, tough guy?" Steve keeps his face as stoney as possible but he can't help the humored edge to his voice.

Billy just winks at him running his tongue over his teeth as he gives Steve an exaggerated leer, "Gotta keep you on your toes, handsome." Robin fake gags and Steve laughs and Eddie Munson turns red as he stares at the two joking jocks. Billy goes quiet as he stares at his ice cream and Steve recognizes the look on his face, tells the blonde to go sit down in their usual booth and he'd be taking his break soon and they can talk about whatever's bothering him.

What's bothering him is Neill getting parole for 'good behavior', Jim only telling the Mayfield-Hargroves almost a week after he was let out because that was actually the same day he himself found out. Billy found out just before a summer basketball practice session and thinks he snapped at an underclassmen he's been trying to get to open up about what Billy is 90% certain is going on in the kid's home, but he knows that cops can't do much if the victim(s) refuse to trust in those trying to help them. He's worried about the kid he snapped at. Worried about Susan and Max. Worried that even with the restraining order Neill will try something. Billy tells Steve he had thought he saw Neill around the outskirts of town during errands or during his turn to haul the kids around a couple of times before Hop told them and now he's sure it wasn't just paranoia. Steve tells him they'll figure it out, reminds him he's not alone in this

That makes Billy smile, small and tired but real and grateful. His shoulders are still tense and there's still a wariness in the smallest crease between his eyebrows that makes Steve ask if there's anything else. They talk about some of the weird dreams Billy's been having that makes Steve encourage him to talk to El. Just to make sure Billy isn't going through what happened to Will the last alternate-dimension-go-around.

They make plans to head out to see the two Hoppers after Steve's shift. Come up with a basic timeline of when and where Billy thinks he saw Neil so they have something to start with for Hop. Put together an idea of how involved Billy wants to be in whatever plan Hop comes up with. They're interrupted by a group of girls swanning into the shop and Steve being yelled at by Robin to get himself back to work. As he gets up from the table Steve levels Billy with a look that makes the blond think about the way Max and the kids described Steve when they talked about how he fought off the pack of demodogs in the junkyard, planting himself between them and snarling snapping danger like Galahad himself.

Steve looks him in the eyes and says "I swear Billy, we're going to get through this, we'll take care of it and keep you and the girls safe. Hop knows what's going on and even Callahan can't get away with letting that piece of shit fall through the cracks after what he pulled." He leans in close and bites out probably louder than he should for the amount of people in the shop, "And if that fucker gets near any of you I've got Darling in Baby's trunk and I am not afraid to use her on a human shaped monster instead."

Author's (rambler's) Notes:

So, that's all I have for season 3 rn I am so sorry. 😭 I'm working on the next bit but I am so burnt out recently and now I'm unemployed cause of the ceiling at my job caving in which does not help the stress. So I unfortunately do not have a timeframe for you. 🥲 A couple of folks asked to be tagged so... Here you are? To be fair I'm not making any promises in regards to the taglist in the future, I will do my damnedest and y'all will have to bear with me.

I'm glad people are liking this and tbh this has gotten more attention than I expected so thanks? I appreciate the appreciation of my ramblings. Feel free to scream at/with me about this au in my asks box and I'll respond when/as I can. I'm just glad people are enjoying this. 🙃

@heartsong18

@knightofthieves

[seecarrun]

I don't know a single thing about Pokemon except that I could probably identify like 4 human characters and a handful of Pokemon if you showed me images of them

But what planet does that anon live on that a ship being non-canon (even confirmed non canon in a complete piece of media!!) means it's "dead"??? That's not how shipping works. Your preferred ship being canon is a surprise treat (unless it's done poorly, in which case going canon is a disaster), not an expectation most people have.

Anon shouldn't be harassing people regardless, but like, they're the weirdo here for their warped view of shipping, not you for what you ship.

The pokemon fandom has always been….passionate… about their ships. I think the lack of any real romance in the show can make people go a little feral at times lol

I’ve been a fan of pokemon since it came out in 1997, and I’ve been involved in the shipping ‘community’ for almost as long. Sadly, this is nothing new. You should have seen the great poke vs pallet vs gym shipping wars of the late 90’s!

Anyway, I take no offense. I’m an almost 36 year old adult with a kid and a mortgage and career and a husband, and fandom is just a fun little hobby I like to enjoy in my free time, so anything anyone says to me is whatever. I just know there are younger, more vulnerable and sensitive members of the community out there, so sometimes I like to not take the high road and engage in the silliness so no one thinks they’re being targeted alone. <3

[vitospaghetta]

How do you imagine Leon's place to look like and where do you think he lives? Some flat?

Also alaooo what do you think he does in his free time?

You have no idea how much thought I've put into this over the years.

Let me preface this with the fact that I'm specifically talking about original continuity Leon post-RE6 here, where he's a seasoned adult and has been in his career field for a while.

Leon more-than-likely lives in D.C. (he could also live in VA or MD but he strikes me as the kinda guy who would rather eat glass than commute, especially with D.C. traffic being absolute bullshit) in an apartment somewhere in the city.

As a federal agent, he makes a salary, which is something that is determined by things like the amount responsibility you have within the agency, your credentials/experience, your skillset, etc. Given his role and responsibilities within the D.S.O., he's easily a top earner. The top earners within the FBI make $153,000 annually, but it looks like top earners within the CIA can make more — like with all things, every agency is different. The D.S.O. obviously isn't a real agency, but as one that is held above all others (as far as authority within the criminal justice system is concerned), Leon probably receives a pretty cushy salary. Around $200,000 annually, easy. Income tax would fuck him over, but he'd still walk away with a reasonable amount per month to afford a $4,000+ per month apartment or to buy one and pay off a mortgage.

He can easily afford a one or two bedroom apartment in the city is what I'm saying. And I mean a nice apartment. We're talking granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, washer and dryer in-unit, floor-to-ceiling windows, in a modern building in a nice area of the city. An area that consists entirely of nice apartment buildings like the one he lives in. There's actually an area just outside of NYC that reminds me of the kinda area I can see him living in. I was there to take the ferry over into the city for a memorial/organ donation event I was attending last year.

The pics don't exactly encapsulate the full vibe, and these apartments probably go for millions due to the proximity to the city and being right off the Hudson, but it's quiet, safe, and filled with sporty people. Lots of folks walking dogs, jogging after work hours, and a sense of community amongst people that seemingly have their shit together.

He strikes me as the type to have a two bedroom apartment just for an office that he's hardly ever in. He'd want to live in a building that has a gym as an amenity because it's easier than hoofing it to a gym elsewhere, and a garage for him to put his car and the crotch rocket he's currently mourning courtesy of Maria.

As for the apartment's interior, I feel like it would completely lack personality or cluttered charm. There's a level of almost sterility to it, in that it's devoid of knick-knacks, personal photos, and encompasses a strong aesthetic of maturity. Everything in it is nice. There's tasteful artwork on the walls, and it's furnished with well-made and sometimes expensive furniture and appliances, because, as a childless adult, if Leon's going to spend money on only himself, he's going to spend it well. You get what you pay for, after all. There are obviously some traces of Leon's personality strewn about — skin care products in the bathroom, boots and leather jackets by the door, some books, laundry crumpled at the foot of his bed and piled by the washer/dryer, maybe a single sarcastic coffee mug somewhere in the cabinet — but there's no novelty.

Due to his constant bouncing around, he isn't home enough to put too much effort into it, and he hasn't had the luxury of certainty or normalcy in so long that all he wants out of his home is for it to look nice and be a comfortable place to sleep. He appreciates coming home to a place that is his, but it doesn't need to be a display of everything he's ever enjoyed. Even when he is home, he strikes me as the type to start going stir crazy when he sits for too long. The most amount of time he probably ever spent at home was when he was self-isolating and hitting the bottle really hard. There's also the generational element of Gen-X'ers being extremely lowkey about shit.

As far as what Leon does in his free time, I feel like he enjoys doing things that are out of the house due to the aforementioned inability to stay alone with his thoughts for too long. The man is constantly trying to distract himself to place distance between himself and his trauma, so where he might have been able to sit and watch a movie alone before, he struggles to now.

Leon's very extroverted, likable, and adaptable, so he probably enjoys being around other people, even if he's not actively talking to them. Though he appreciates silence as well, when he's kicking things around in his head and is trying to find some semblance of peace and a means to calm the noise. He might get a coffee at a shop right by his apartment where he's a regular and everyone knows him by name, or go for a run, or go shopping. Maybe he tries to make plans with those he cares about to go out for dinner, like he did with Claire in Infinite Darkness. Maybe he tries to catch a good sunset over the Potomac River. He goes to the gym, he rides his motorcycle around the city or takes a scenic route on the outskirts just for the hell of it, he meets up with a fellow agent and they do shots at his favorite bar.

I don't think he has hobbies, as in crafting or gaming or being too involved in any specific interests, but everything he does is fueled by his love of people, his appreciation for what good he has in his life, and his need for escape.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

A New Lease On Life

Have you ever felt like being yourself limits you in a way? Like being born to a particular family or culture limits your potential and often how the world views you?

My name is Dr. Kurpreet Singh. I'm 27, single and longing for a life other than my own.

It's a well-known fact that Indian culture gives little freedom to the children. Great expectations from parents, often using the success to flaunt in others' faces. Despite being a well-studied and successful man of medicine, I must be causing my mother and father a great deal of disappointment. They keep setting me up for arranged marriages, but I know it's all for their gain, and whilst I've been introduced to some absolutely beautiful women, they're not exactly what I'm looking for.

During my education, I was envious of the other boys, they could laze about, talk anything they'd like, date anyone they'd like. My life was pre-determined, focus on my studies, ace every test. I love my parents, but the life they forced upon me doesn't exactly offer the freedoms that many of my peers take for granted. It seems clear to me my life was mapped out in their eyes even from conception; create a child prodigy, marry him into a wealthy family, have some beautiful children, die securing a promising future for their grandchildren. A noble plan I guess, but what about what I want?

It took some persuasion, but I was able to move from my parents' home into my own flat. My mother of course always hit with the obvious comments. 'Why are you settling for a flat? You need a mortgage for raising your family!' 'A single bed? No, you need a big bed to share with the right lady when you find her!' 'I don't like this place, too small. Where is the family supposed to sit for Diwali?' 'This is not a nice neighbourhood. You don't know anyone on your street. What you need is a good community, please come back and live with us Kurpreet, you'll be happier!'

Honestly she's not been happy with my flat since Day 1, saying I need to change this and that, chastising me on finding the slightest speck of dust. At least she never stays. When I'm alone, that's when I truly feel free of the pressure and expectations I have had placed on me.

Now, in the time I've had in my flat, I've been able to enjoy all kinds of freedoms, particularly conducting my own research into arcane topics. It's crazy to think that some things we dream of can infact be reality, through the right methods of course. My researches led me to discovering the likes of body possession and bodysuits, methods to change a person's entire likeness! There were stories of people documenting their transformations from their old bodies into new ones and I wondered if I could do the same. Through a few contacts I was able to obtain a small glass container of powder.

To anyone it looked like some kind of seasoning, it really wouldn't have looked to out of place on a spice rack. According to my supplier, it was a powder that numbed the nerves and extracted the soul. More or less, anyone I sprinkled the powder on would become a bodysuit, and I'd also be able to undergo a transformation much like the stories I'd become enamoured by. I kept the container on me, you never know when I might find the right person to become the vessel I need. Of course I went about my usual life at the local clinic as the kindly Dr. Singh, but beneath the surface, an almost inhuman hunger was growing inside me.

It happened on one evening, as I drove home from the clinic, I parked my car in my usual spot in the carpark and made my way towards my flat's front door. Even as I locked my car door I could hear people talking from the direction of my door. Sounded like a bunch of rowdy men. I got my briefcase out of my car's boot, cautiously pocketing my glass container as a precaution. 'I'm just going into my flat' I told myself under my breath. Taking a deep breath I began to make my way to my door. The voices seemed to be sluggishly singing some chant. Maybe they were on their way back from a pub after a football match. I turned the corner and saw four men in tracksuits sitting on the steps leading up to my door, beer cans littered all over the floor. I stopped in my tracks looking slack-jawed at the sight.

'Oi, the fuck you looking at?' demanded one of them when he noticed me looking. The rest stopped singing and turned their attention on me. I cleared my throat. 'Pardon me, Gentlemen. Could I possibly get to my front door?' I asked politely. It took a moment then they started laughing. 'Did you boys get any of that?' asked the one closest to my door. 'Nah man, all I heard was 'Oh deary, deary me!'' said another one imitating an Indian accent. 'Welcome to my Kwik-E-Mart, please come again!' said the one that addressed me at first, and they all broke into outrageous laughter. I wasn't about to let a bunch of racists make me lose my cool. 'Look, you're in my doorway, haven't you all got somewhere better to be?' I demanded sternly, folding my arms. It was at that point the one who hadn't said a word yet stood up. He glared at me and began to walk menacingly over. He was a fair bit taller than I am, quite bulky too. I backed away a few steps, subtley reaching for my little glass container. 'Why don't you fuck off back to India, Curry-In-A-Hurry?' asked the man, staring me down. The other men started laughing again. I mustered up my courage, removing the cork behind my back. 'I was born here in England, my family's been living here two generations' I replied smartly, looking him in the eyes. The man lifted his head from my breathing space, seemingly impressed. 'Well look at that boys, guess he's one of us!' he shouted, turning to the others. I was stunned. 'What, really?' I asked curiously. 'Nah, fuck off!' he said, turning back and aiming a punch at me. I anticipated this and ducked to the side, spraying the contents of the container in his face. He coughed and shook his head, wiping the powder out of his eyes. 'You dirty little…little…' he slurred, gradually losing consciousness and slumping down on the ground. His friends looked on shocked. 'Terry?' asked one of them, getting up to get a better look. 'Guess your friend has had too much to drink' I said shrugging. 'Nah nah nah, you threw something on him!' cried another one, standing up and pointing accusingly at me. The first one approached Terry's body and shook his shoulder. Terry's whole body wobbled like jelly. 'Shit, you've killed him!' he said, looking at me. At this point I looked darkly into his eyes. 'You wanna take your chances with me or are you gonna go?' I asked calmly. The guy shook his head, inching along the wall. 'Fuck no! Let's get away from this Voodoo creep!' he yelled staggering off. The other two ran off after him, leaving me and Terry alone. I gave his body a little kick with my boot, then lifted his arm up, which flopped back down as I let go. 'Well then Terry, looks like your check-up's due!' I chuckled, unlocking my front door and hoisting him over my right shoulder.

Getting into my living room, I placed Terry on my sofa and placed my belongings on the counter to the side. Getting a better look at the man, he looked to be roughly the same age as me, short brown hair, clean-shaven. Dare I say kinda cute. I removed his clothes to get a better look at what was on offer, I was met with the sight of some nice biceps and muscles, a very nice chest and abs. I had no doubt this guy probably could have actually knocked me out if he'd had a decent shot. 'Nice body Terry! Shame about your awful mouth and problematic mind' I said tutting condescendingly. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and took a good, long look at myself. Slim built, soft black hair, a tidy goatee and the glasses I always wore. Not bad, but there was room for improvement. It occurred to me this might just be the last time I see my face like this, but I was ready to give it all up. Staring at myself I began to unbutton my shirt, revealing my flat chest and stomach, my skinny arms and slightly hairy chest. I began to smile, this was like a dream come true. I undid my belt, unlaced my boots, pulled off my trousers, socks and boxers and stood there fully nude. I looked at myself one last time and nodded, turning my attention to Terry. I pulled him off the sofa and placed him carefully on the rug. Nervously, I prised open his mouth, the stretching sound of elastic filling the room. My cock twitched and a grin spread across my face as I looked down into the darkness within his body. It was time.

I began by placing my right foot into his mouth, pushing down my foot and shin began to disappear past his lips. I thought it best to sit down for this, so I did just that. Placing my left foot inside, the rubbery squeaking continued as I pushed my legs down, Terry's mouth seemingly consuming my kneecaps and upper legs. Looking further down his body, I could see his own legs were swelling and darkening slightly, going from pale white a delightful tan. I could only imagine what the outcome was going to look like and my dick began to harden in delight. I began to move my thighs inside, I took care to push my erectifying penis into Terry's mouth too, seeing it further down stretching his length out and amazingly restoring my foreskin. I'd been circumcised as a child, so I'd never really known what it was like to have an uncut cock, but I guess that was going to be something for me to explore in good time. Hands on the floor, I began to slide my belly and chest into the mouth, seeing them firm up and darken Terry's body, I moved my arms inside too and they filled out his arms and hands too. I let my new hands explore my body, this was nice. Like REALLY nice. I stood up and walked over to the mirror, checking it out. Abs, ass, I had it all going on. I bit my lip and locked eyes with my reflection. My old face atop this new body looked back. I took off my glasses and put them on the counter, and through blurred vision I matched up Terry's lower jaw with my own and pulled his head over mine. I could feel my face contorting as I stood there for a moment, eyes shut, letting the transformation finish. I felt my face and hair, with one hesitant breath I opened my eyes. My new reflection looked back at me, clear as day. Terry must have had good eyesight, I could kiss those glasses goodbye. My black hair was still there, my goatee had survived the transformation too. I looked good, Terry and I had created one gorgeous guy. I gave my new cock a playful tug with my left hand and my new ass a squeeze with the right. I could finally leave my old life behind and enjoy any man I wanted, be anything I wanted. Ruffling up my hair and massaging my biceps I remembered, I had kept an outfit aside for this occasion. I hurried to my bedroom and flung open the doors, searching through my coat hangers I found it; a plaid shirt, skinny jeans with chains on them, a G-string to perk up everything on offer, and a leather harness, for later. I'd see about officially leaving the flat tomorrow, for tonight I'm hitting every gay bar in town and getting me some long-desired action. Dr. Kurpreet was gone, any remnants are getting fucked out tonight. From here on out, I am Hari, a cute guy in a big town with big dreams of being the most lustful male stripper around!

[harrowharkwife]

🚨🚨🚨 uh oh clown alert!

listen. listen to me. buck is going to win the lottery in the 6b finale "pay it forward" and then give all of it to his friends and family. possibly via anonymous "angel donation?"

and i can prove it too - spec under the cut!

these are all from 6a&6b episode transcripts. opening and closing a season with "let the games begin" and "pay it forward" can't be a coincidence! and we know hen filled out lottery tickets for everyone in the firehouse, so there's a ticket with buck's name on it that's already been played.

maddie's joked with buck twice now this season about buying lottery tickets- the second time, she told him he should play the lottery because he "got so lucky," referring to him surviving the lightning strike.

pre-lightning, we had buck telling hen in cursed that he was "having a run of bad luck" but that it would "turn around tomorrow," in reference to a non-anonymous DONATION (!!!) not going as planned.

what if the lightning, cleansing fire that it off symbolizes, basically "burned through" the rest of his bad luck, clearing the way for one helluva lucky streak?

we got the buckley diaz family joking that he might "gain more powers" as he "gets stronger." sure, math helps with poker i guess, but you know what else would help? luck.

the symbolism of buck, someone conceived for the express purpose of making a bone marrow donation he had zero say in, someone who only recently donated sperm (partially) because he felt, in his own words, like he "couldn't say no," receiving an unexpected windfall of cash, and having the freedom and the privacy to make financial donations on his own terms, of his own free will, with zero outside pressure, as opposed to making organ/tissue donations out of obligation? SO poetic.

he's not the guy who tries to fix things, anymore- he knows his own worth, and he knows he's loved, and he no longer values himself solely on what he can do for others. he doesn't think he has to earn people's love, anymore- he knows his family loves him anyway. but he'll always be buck. he'll always want to help. and there's a massive difference between helping someone just because you want to, and trying to fix everything for someone because you've convinced yourself it's what you have to do in order for them to love you back.

so: buck wins the lottery. he regifts all of it to the people in his life, quite literally paying it forward, echoing athena and hen's conversation in 911 what's your fantasy about winning the lottery and giving it all away "to people" in your community, rather than to charities. maybe some of it's anonymous, maybe some of it isn't- realistically, if everyone in the 118 suddenly gets anonymous checks in the mail, they're going to figure out it's buck eventually. but it's the spirit of the thing.

they were filming at a cruise ship dock for the finale- buck gifts bobby and athena tickets to a cruise, to replace the honeymoon cruise they missed. he probably makes a donation to bobby's AA chapter.

we know madney get in trouble with the IRS in 6x15 death and taxes, so maybe he helps them out of that jam. pays off their mortgage, helps with the renovation costs, maybe chips in towards a wedding celebration.

maybe he pays off hen's med school loans, or makes a donation to help karen's coworkers injured in the explosion, maybe a recurring monthly stipend they can use to buy fun toys for any new foster kids, something like that.

maybe he's moving in with eddie anyway, so he buys out the rest of his lease from his landlord and transfers the apartment to taylor, on the SOLE condition that she CANNOT run a news story that he's the guy who won the lottery. (i despise taylor just as much as the next girl, believe me, but megan west was on the fox lot for a hot minute, so if it ends up being for 911 and not some other show, then, well, here we are.) he did admittedly put her in a real shit situation, re: her lease and all the move-in drama. this might be a nice way of clearing the air. fucking with someone's living situation is a tremendously shitty thing to do, and i think he knows that. plus, it would make for a good parallel to abby leaving buck to housesit her place indefinitely with zero closure, and also, i just hate the loft and want it gone forever, sorry!

college fund and surfing lessons for chris, obvs.

vegas couples' trip for him and eddie.

which brings me to the connor and kameron of it all- i remember seeing a (very blurry, zero context) behind the scenes picture that looked like it MIGHT have *MAYBE*, *POSSIBLY* been buck talking to a pregnant woman in his loft. and connor's been acting real shady. and 6x13 mixed feelings had entirely too many lines about "blaming someone else for lies YOU told" re: fathers and sons. soooo... i think there's a fair chance connor could flake on kameron and leave her last-minute. he thought he wanted to be a dad, but he wasn't actually ready. or maybe he thought he'd be okay with using a sperm donor, but turns out he's not. or maybe he just liked the idea of being able to give kameron what she wanted, but he realizes it's not actually what he wants for himself. something like that. (side note: this would be SUCH a good opportunity to contrast him with buck and highlight all buck's character growth!) and he skips town- in the end, he's the one who winds up "being a father and walking away."

but buck has a chance to draw a real boundary, here! he's not this baby's dad, and he knows that. maybe kameron's ready and willing to take on being a single mom. buck already has his own family, with eddie and chris. he's not this baby's dad, because he's a dad already. but he *is* "responsible for the creation of new life," as he put it, and we heard an awful lot of talk from oliver about buck "owning his choices" and taking responsibility for them re: this plotline. so, boundaries: he's not the dad, just a friend who wants to help- he knows firsthand from eddie how hard single parenting can be, and connor taking off was a real asshole move, and kameron is a grown woman perfectly capable of raising this kid on her own, and she really wants to be a mom, but she DID get left in the lurch through no fault of her own, and that's not fair to her. so buck offers to set up a standing payment from his lottery winnings to help her cover childcare expenses and whatnot, at least while she finds her footing and tries to work some kind of formal divorce agreement out with connor, if not in perpetuity. (hell, maybe she's who he gives the loft to, not taylor!) but he helps her in some way- a sperm donation he was always sorta on the fence about, paired with a financial donation that he's certain is the right choice, and one he wants to make. standing by his past choices, honoring them, and helping nurture them.

(besides, he's saving on rent anyway, now that he's moving into the diaz house.)

maybe kameron, as a token of gratitude towards buck for helping her fulfill her dream of having a child, as a gesture of reciprocity for his assisted-reproduction donation, offers a parting quip of "well, buck, if you and your boyfriend are ever looking for a surrogate or an egg donor, you know who to call. i'd love to return the favor!" as her own way of paying it forward.

anyway, the point is this: in a season about games and money and paper trails and gambling and luck and winning and lottery tickets, i'd bet good money that we're gonna see buck win the lottery this season. how he'll actually wind up spending the money is just a guess on my part, but the actual lottery bit itself? that much i'm sure of!

[mappingthemoon]

For the past several years (can’t remember if this attitude predates the pandemic), I’ve been kinda “meh”/side-eye re: New Year’s Resolutions. I am a very goal-oriented person and feel existentially unmoored when I don’t have something that I’m working toward, be it a class, a trip, a concert, a zine or other artsy project. But I also tend to have very unrealistic expectations, namely of how much time it will actually take me to complete tasks and how much energy I will still possess after I get home from work every day. So I don’t want to put all this abstract pressure on myself for the new year and then get burned by my, idk, ENORMOUSLY OVERWHELMING CAPACITY FOR HOPES AND DREAMS (or inability to accept reality or whatever, I guess, depending on your viewpoint lol).

Last year, I got a faculty librarian job and I was able to finally quit doing part-time transcription work, a (second) job I’d held for over 11 years. I thought the sudden influx of “free time” would result in a flood of creative projects in 2023, but I didn’t get nearly as much done (or started) as I’d hoped. My new job duties brought increased stress – I supervise someone now and received zero training for this so I’m having to figure out all this soft skills work relationship stuff on my own, I’m one of only two special collections catalogers in a large academic institution and ofc our backlog is a million miles long, I have to deal with so many more dang emails and meetings as a faculty person than I did as a staff, our institution is grossly underfunded and understaffed and people keep leaving bc our wages are comparatively Bad; many of my colleagues and I are burnt out af. SO ANYWAY due to all that, instead of blossoming into a creative powerhouse now that I have only one day-job, I instead found myself sinking into the couch after work, watching youtube on the big tv screen and transforming into a sad amorphous blob.

BUT! One reason I am risking feeling slightly more hopeful about 2024 is that this year, I am scheduled to have two out of four credit card loans paid off! (I had five but already paid one off this year too :D) This will put like… nearly $400 back into my pocket each month. I hate complaining about my money situation bc I do make what would be a decent living wage for my ~lifestyle~ (2 very frugal working adults, no kids in the home), but nearly 25% of my income goes to debt (not including mortgage lol). (The reason I am carrying so much debt is because I didn’t make anything even remotely close to a living wage for the entirety of my working life until I got the librarian job last year and I had to use credit cards for things like groceries and travelling home for funerals and then I’d transfer the credit card balance onto a loan and then I’d be like “okay, as long as we have no more emergencies for 18 months, we’ll be good,” and then there’d be another emergency and I’d have to borrow more money again 🇺🇸) So the TL;DR is I strongly suspect that when I have a bit more of a financial cushion and don’t have to deprive myself of most material pleasures (such as the occasional deli sandwich or vinyl record! I have simple desires!) and white-knuckle it through the last week of every month, I might be a bit less exhausted and stressed out on a daily basis?

So based on that completely speculative hope, here are my goals/resolutions for 2024:

Start a monthly one-pager photozine (my intention is for this to be a simple project to keep me active in the zine community and more ~intentional~ with my photography). Finish writing Moonshot #3 (Summer 2024) and #4 (Fall 2024). Start outlining (at least) Phases of the Moon #7. Maybe: Think abt starting a new art/literary comp zine. [I used to do tons of comp zines when I was younger and I’ve been revisiting them in my zine digitization/archiving project and feeling inspired!! Love bringing a variety of people together to collectively work on an amazing goal! ♈]

Do something analog with photography – maybe cyanotypes? [I’m despondent that I’ve been dragging an enlarger around for over 10 years but still haven’t built a home darkroom. This can still happen someday, but in the meantime, I know there are other analog photographic processes I can do without a full darkroom!] I also want to get back into photographing concerts. [I was a little disappointed that my Quintron pics {still forthcoming sry} didn’t turn out fantastic but it was my own damn fault for falling out of practice with my DSLR, and also forgetting to turn on autofocus lmao.] AND, I think it would be fairly easy to turn my bedroom into a camera obscura, which would be TOTALLY AWESOME and SWEET.

Redesign my website/portfolio: selenographer.info. Try to actually post some newsletters once in a while?

Finish at least one cross-stitch!

Leave the house more often for social activities?????

Better daily health routine [I already do this stuff, but I’m not always consistent]: Meditate & do yoga, preferably in the morning. Teeth care at least twice a day [sry if it’s TMI gross but brushing before bed was never part of my childhood and it has been a constant struggle to solidify this habit as an adult, ugh] and actually use the dang waterpik & electric toothbrush that I bought. Wear the sleep apnea device every night. [This thing works. But I fucking hate wearing it and I skip nights which makes me feel like a big dummy since I borrowed an additional $3000 to treat this problem.] STOP TAKING GOODY’S POWDER. [This should follow if I am consistent in wearing the apnea device bc I won’t get morning headaches if I am not waking up in a state of oxygen deprivation!]

Buy a new bed! [We got one of those cheapo internet mattresses in 2018 and man is it killing me. If I ever won the lottery the first thing I would do is completely redesign the bedroom into the ideal sleep environment.] Also need to buy 1 or 2 new bookcases bc I now have 3 storage bins full of unshelved books and it makes me anxious.

Work-related goals: Reclaim as much time as possible from the workweek. Try to have at least a half-day of work-from-home time per week. Actually use the professional development time I am privileged to have as faculty! Try to detach from the stressful sense of urgency other people (inexplicably) bring to the table and don’t let that shit get to you. Figure out a better way to handle emails? [My current modes are either complete avoidance so I can hyperfocus on a task, or checking my email every 30-60 mins and spiralling into the distraction zone for hours.] Hopefully take another class at Rare Book School. Help with more outreach events (aka teaching people about ZINES! :D)

GOOD LUCK EVERYBODY <3

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I couldn’t find the post I first saw sharing the minutes on coverture laws (it’s actually more dowery related it seems) but I managed to find the actual section! Along with Camille and Danton, I forgot Couthon also speaks on the proposal.

https://sul-philologic.stanford.edu/philologic/archparl/navigate/73/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/677/

(The proposal starts at the link but they start talking on page 674)

Thank you so much for sharing! Fun to know where these guys stood on the matter.

Thuriot — I believe that the husband alone should have right to the administration of property, and also be solely responsible for it. Very few women are going to be in a position to manage this administration. However, I would not like the right to be given explicitly by law to the husband; this law would cause discord between the spouses; and the property of women is sufficiently secured, by the mortgage of their dowry, and by the provision of the law which requires their consent for the sale of immoveables.

Lacroix — Citizens, I maintain on the contrary that the common administration must result from the community itself, and that in a free country one cannot keep women in slavery any longer. It is ridiculous that in the society of marriage a single member exclusively administers the family, and that a husband can squander at will the fortune he obtains from his wife

Merlin de Douai — If the Convention adopts the article presented to it by the committee, it would do an absurd and unjust thing, and would introduce perpetual disputes into families. I think that the woman is generally incapable of administering, and that the man has a superiority over her: nature must preserve it…

Danton — I ask that the committee above all tells us what it wants to say by its article.

Cambacérès — The committee means to say that the husband can not dispose of the property of the community without the consent of the wife.

Danton — Well, nothing is more natural.

Garnier — I ask that this proposal be enacted, and, if it has any disadvantages, that they are corrected by the law of divorce.

Camille Desmoulins — I agree. I do not want marital power, which is a creation of despotic governments, to be preserved any longer. In support of my opinion comes this political consideration: it is important to make women love the Revolution, and you will achieve this goal by making them get to enjoy their rights

Couthon — It suffices to have made a few reflections on the nature of man to be convinced that women is born with as much capacity as men; if until now that has been shown less, it is not the fault of nature, but that of our ancient institutions. I further observe that it is ridiculous to refuse the common administration of property to two spouses who can only sell it by common consent.

Thuriot — This law would be so contrary to principles, and so dangerous in its results, that foreigners would no longer wish, as long as it existed, to have commercial transactions with the French. This law would enslave and degrade the man by putting him under the guardianship of the woman. The administration of trust given to her by her husband honors her more than the right she would hold from this law. Moreover, it is important to deeply meditate upon this question. I therefore ask that it be adjourned for three days.

The adjournment is decreed.

[whorelyyy]

Ass for cash? Hard Pass.

"N-no, no, no, no, no. No way," she muttered, picking up her phone again and double-checking what she had just read. It couldn’t be right.

But it was. She had posted her drunken trauma dump on Oasis' community Simslist. She felt pathetic as she reread her words. God, it reads like a cry for help, Raz thought. Her stomach flipped as she kept going over her message. It was like her brain was punishing her for how stupid she had been, refusing to let her stop revisiting this public broadcast of her instability. She sounded desperate—hungry for company, for connection, for money, for security. The worst part? It was all true. Raz ached for those things, craved them. She had missed out on so much life while she was with him. She wanted more. She needed more.

But just because it was true didn’t make it any easier to digest—especially when her deepest, darkest thoughts had been shared publicly for everyone in her new town to read.

As she was processing it all, her phone kept buzzing with notifications. Dozens of replies continued to flood. The starkness of their responses felt like a slap in the face.

"I’ll pray for you. Feel free to join us at Mount Sinai Church this Sunday. God helps those who cannot help themselves."

Okay, fuck them, Raz thought. She could absolutely help herself.

"Oh, this is, like, really sad. Did you mean to post this? Penny, is this you?"

At least there are other pathetic people in this town, Raz thought. Simslist was semi-anonymous, so unless someone knew your username, they wouldn’t know who posted it. Unless they were some kind of tech whiz. But she couldn’t fully indulge her anxiety because the next message was so outrageous she couldn’t believe her eyes.

"You're not the only one in this town craving connection. I know what it’s like to feel isolated, drifting through life, going through the motions, tethered to nothing. No one should feel that way, or endure such pain alone. Everyone needs support. I’d love to be that person for you. To help you. I could use a companion—a kindred spirit. Let me take some of life’s stress off your plate. Money is no object. If you're interested, please call me. I think the universe wanted us to meet. xo"

Did she just get an offer to be someone’s sugar baby? Just when she thought things couldn’t get more insane. She half-entertained the idea. Company—hopefully just company—could be nice. A friend who literally paid you to hang out? That’s not the worst thing, right? It would be nice not to worry about finances. She had taken out a ridiculous loan to afford this move, to buy her house. Raz thought of her monthly payments, her crappy salary. It barely covered groceries and her mortgage, but she managed.

She quickly pulled herself out of the delusion. Of course, she couldn’t be some random stranger’s sugar baby. She had just escaped a controlling relationship—why on earth would she jump into another situation with messed-up power dynamics? Hard pass.

She took a final moment to glance over her post before deleting it, closing the app, and silencing her phone. At least no one will know it was me. I mean, how many people really saw it?

PREVIOUS│NEXT [WIP]

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“With a perpetual churn of people coming and going, my home remained a hub of feminist and community activism in this heyday of women’s liberation. Housemates did not pay rent, but in those days mortgage repayments, which I paid, were low. Most of the rooms, including the basement and attic, were always filled with bodies, chat and arguments, plus regular visitors, some of whom remain friends to this day, including the then budding writers Marsha Rowe, who founded Spare Rib with Rosie Boycott, and Michèle Roberts. We were all busy launching feminist and related battles on every front, trying to build a movement that would be inclusive while also battling to create a women-friendly, broader left culture and activism.

We supported our women’s centre, but some of us also worked alongside men at our community press, helping to produce and distribute our free alternative paper, the Islington Gutter Press. I still recall with pleasure visiting the dense network of resource centres, housing co-ops, tenants’ organisations and antiracist groups in our patch when not taking to the streets to distribute the paper. Together we were trying, not always successfully, to combat sexism and men’s taken-for-granted domination. “We don’t compete, but we win anyway,” was one self-mocking reflection from two of the men at a Christmas party in response to our criticism that they remained dominant in our shared spaces. Mostly, however, we were battling sexism in the community, such as when we picketed our local newspaper, the Islington Gazette, which then still carried female pin-ups. One of the male journalists, a union rep called Clive, came out to support us, and the paper soon changed its policy.”

[reasoningdaily]

The Navajo Nation has received a $55 million grant to help Navajo homeowners with mortgage payments and home repairs.

Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren said as many as 901 homeowners should qualify for the funds.

The money comes from the American Rescue Plan Act, which provides nearly $10 billion to support homeowners throughout the country who face financial hardships due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

The program is open to Navajo homeowners of all income levels within the Four Corner states who live on both tribal lands and in urban areas.

The funds must be used within three years.

PHOENIX — Urban Navajos who own homes off the Navajo Nation will soon receive some unexpected help they’ll want but didn’t need to ask for.

On Sept. 11, Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren told 250 Phoenix metro area Navajo homeowners that the Nation received a $55 million federal grant to provide financial assistance to Navajo homeowners under various Homeowner Assistance Fund programs.

This includes mortgage payments and home repair assistance.

As many as 901 Navajo homeowners should qualify for the money for their homes, he said.

“Make sure we tell everybody,” Nygren told an overflow crowd in the shade outside the historic Phoenix Indian School Visitor Center, one of the remaining buildings from the 100-year-old Indian boarding school.

They were outside because a capacity crowd was already indoors awaiting the same announcement, and Nygren wanted to address those in the 105-degree F heat first.

The Homeowner Assistance Fund was authorized through the American Rescue Plan Act to provide $9.9 billion nationwide to support homeowners who face financial hardships associated with COVID-19, the Nygren said yesterday.

The funds were distributed to states, U.S. territories, and tribes. The Navajo Nation was awarded $55,420,097.

Most federally funded programs are restricted to low- and very-low-income households.

This program allows higher-income Navajo homeowners to receive financial relief from the economic effects of COVID-19, as well.

“Tell your relatives,” Nygren said. “Say the $55 million that came from our government was specifically for Navajo people who are homeowners.”

To launch the process, Nygren signed an agreement with Native Community Capital. The group is a Native-led and operated non-profit corporation that was selected as the sub-recipient to administer the Homeowner Assistance Fund Project activities on behalf of the Navajo Nation.

Native Community Capital is certified by the U.S. Department of the Treasury as a Native Community Development Financial Institution and is a licensed mortgage lender in Arizona and New Mexico.

The program is designed for both higher-income and medium-income homeowners, Native Community Capital CFO Todd Francis said.

As an example, a family of four in Maricopa County in Arizona earning as much as $132,450 a year may be eligible for the tax-free, non-repayable funds to pay their mortgage or repair their homes, he said.

The program will benefit Navajo relatives and their families who reside in both rural remote locations and those in the urban areas of Phoenix, Albuquerque, Denver, Salt Lake City, surrounding smaller cities and towns, and wherever Navajo homeowners live off-reservation, said NCC CEO Dave Castillo.

A significant lack of investment in tribal communities compared to non-Indian communities has resulted in a critical absence of homeownership on tribal lands, particularly for higher-income Native households, he said.

As a result, Navajos with higher incomes tend to purchase or build homes off the Navajo Nation where they can qualify for loans and mortgages to build equity and wealth.

The Center for Indian Country Development reports that 78% of Native people live outside of tribal trust land in counties surrounding their homelands. It is these families the HAF Project will seek to support, Castillo said.

Nygren said the Navajo HAF Project will provide financial assistance to 901 eligible Navajo homeowners to use for qualified expenses in five activities for the next 36 months.

The program will provide financial assistance to eligible Navajo homeowners in the four-state region of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado.

Each eligible applicant could receive a maximum amount of $125,000 of combined assistance under various programs.

These include:

Monthly mortgage payment assistance to a maximum assistance level of $72,000 per participant. This is for Navajo homeowners who are delinquent in mortgage payments or at risk of foreclosure due to a loss of household income.

Mortgage reinstatement assistance would give a maximum assistance of $50,000 per participant to those who are in active forbearance, delinquency default status, or are at risk of losing a home.

Mortgage principal reduction assistance that would assist up to $100,000 for those who find the fair market value of their home is now less than the price they paid for it and now may result in a loss when it is sold.

Home repair assistance that would give $100,000 to those who need significant home repairs.

Clear title assistance of up to $30,000 for grant assistance to receive a clear title of their primary residence.

In his 2022 presidential campaign, Nygren committed to helping urban Navajos who have said for years that they felt underserved by the tribal government. He said this grant addresses that.

He said one of his administration’s next goals is to buy or construct a building owned by the Navajo Nation in the metro area to serve urban Navajo Phoenicians.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we used the entire $55 million this year?” Nygren asked. “I know you committed to live here and to take care of your family. I see a lot of familiar faces and I understand this is where your jobs are. We want you to have access to resources.”

Castillo urged applicants to be sure their applications were complete and submitted early.

“One thing we want to emphasize is to be ready when the information is being requested on the checklist,” he said. “Make sure you have your documents prepared and you get it to our licensed professionals that will be working with you. If you do not, the application will expire in 30 days.”

He said the program has just three years to deploy the $55 million.

“It seems like we could do that quickly but we can only do it quickly if you help us, if you’re ready, and if you submit the information that’s necessary.”

Debbie Nez-Manuel, executive director of the Navajo Nation Division of Human Resources, said visits to other urban areas will be planned, scheduled, and announced by Native Community Capital.

The funds must be used within three years.

So does any of this money go to the Black Indians Tribes? @militantinremission

maybe y'all should start asking for your cut right now cause they got it

[wishful-soda]

Hi hello hi

Bit of an announcement/update/word vomit thing. Sorry it's so long.

First; I'd like to apologize for dropping off the face of the Earth. I've received lots of asks/messages checking in on me & I promise I didn't ignore anyone on purpose, I genuinely couldn't tell you the last time I opened tumblr.

Okay so; I know most of you are aware this hasn't been the greatest year for me mental health wise. It's been the hardest year for my depression in a loooong time & that was with just every day life being life.

Welp, the universe or God or the grand pubah or whoever decided that wasn't enough & really socked it to me....I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I work in the mortgage industry. A large portion of my pay is bonus pay per file (as usual in this industry) & then I have a smaller base hourly pay. As of August, the bottom completely dropped out of the market when interest rates sky rocketed. My bonuses shrank to almost none.

Being as I had just closed on my very own house that I worked very hard to finally be able to purchase in June, this was not great. Cut to November & it had only gotten worse. Nearly everyone I worked with has been laid off . & then the death blow, they cut my hours to part time.

So a mixture of more work with less support in less hours & trying to figure out how to pay my bills sent me spiraling like big time. I've been a really shitty wife, friend, employee, daughter, etc for the past two months. I haven't had it in me.

I haven't logged on because I've felt so guilty for the lack of updates to SotD that I've felt like I didn't want to be on here. I felt like I couldn't come back without an update or a date for when the next update would be.

That, & the fact that I've not had much free time at all, I've been doing every side hustle I can come up with & applying for second jobs.

I'm genuinely so sorry you guys. I feel like I've totally failed all of you & I hate it. I do plan on coming back to SotD, but I honestly cannot tell you when & for that I am also so so sorry. I am just trying to stay alive right now & it's a struggle every day.

I know no one asked for this much info about my life and it's quite possibly too much, but I felt like I owed y'all more than 'Idk when I'll update again'.

I appreciate all of your messages & want to thank you so much for your concern & care about me. I know I have not responded yet, but I promise I've read every single one of them this morning. It means more than I have the capacity to express right now. Thank you for loving my writing & being literally the best online community/family I could ever ask for.

I'm so genuinely sorry.

I hope you are all doing well & hope to be able to get back to hanging out here, I really miss it.

Love y'all 💖

xx Soda

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 5

Summary: Javi and Cassidy go for a ride.

Word count: 1700+

“Bored yet?”

Javi opened his eyes. He’d been leaning back in his lawn chair, arms crossed, but definitely not napping. “Just communing with Buster,” he said. “He gets me, don’t you, buddy?” The gelding, who had been dozing off, simply swished his tail at a particularly annoying fly and flicked an ear when he heard his name.

Cassidy laughed. “Yeah, you have so much in common,” she said. “You’re both lazy, good for nothing, free loaders.”

Javi sat up. “Hey! I’m doing this as a favor to you,” he said. “And I brought the beer last week.”

“One lousy six pack,” she scoffed.

“It was the good shit,” Javi shot back. “Not that cheap crap you buy.” In the weeks since he’d started coming over to socialize Buster, they’d fallen into a friendly banter, ending most days with a cold beer in the barn or on her back porch.

“Well, I have a mortgage to pay,” Cassidy replied. “I’m not living rent free in my dad’s house.”

Javi shook his head and flipped her the bird. She’d hit a bit too close to the bone with that last remark. Chucho had made it clear that Javi could stay as long as he liked, but he still felt like he was imposing.

“Get off your lazy ass and come for a ride with me,” Cassidy said. “I need to get some miles on Dawson before I can start advertising him for sale, but I also need to get Cricket out before she gets too fat.”

“I’m not much of a rider,” Javi protested. It was true. He knew how to ride, of course. His dad had insisted on it, but it had been years since he’d ridden more than just to get from point A to point B on the ranch, and then only if he couldn’t easily drive one of the trucks.

“I’ll put you on Cricket,” Cassidy said. “She’s my babysitter horse. I’ve put little kids on her. I think you’ll be okay.”

“Oh, I know how to ride well enough,” Javi said. “I meant I’m not used to riding for a long time.”

“Afraid you’ll hurt your ass?”

“Afraid I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Javi admitted. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re not that old,” Cassidy said. “But you are out of shape.” She reached down and poked his stomach. “Less beer and whiskey, more exercise. And stop smoking those cancer sticks.”

Javi batted her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he grumbled.

“Just get up and help me saddle the horses,” she said. Javi took a moment to admire the view as she walked away before he levered himself up out of the chair. He followed her into the barn and into the tack room at the end.

He whistled in admiration. “Nice collection,” he said. There were close to a dozen saddles placed neatly on racks on the far wall. The wall opposite had pegs which held bridles and halters and other bits of tack.

“Yeah, I like to have options,” Cassidy said. She ran her hand over the seat of a glossy black English style saddle. “Western, jumping, dressage … I used to have a sidesaddle, too, but I got a great offer to sell it to a historical reenactor.” She pulled a plain trail saddle off one of the racks and nodded to another one a few spaces over. “Grab that and follow me.”

They worked silently, except for a few quiet instructions from Cassidy, brushing the horses off and tacking them up. Dawson was a nondescript bay gelding with no white markings at all. He fidgeted as Cassidy worked with him. Cricket, on the other hand, was a pretty little buckskin mare with a white stripe down her face and impeccable ground manners.

“I’m serious about you riding Cricket,” Cassidy said as she checked the girths on both saddles. “She’s got that nice, easy jog. Dawson’s a real bone shaker. Your backside will thank me.”

“Glad to know you think about my backside so much,” Javi said. “I’m flattered.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she replied, as she swung gracefully into the saddle on Dawson’s back.

Javi chuckled and hoisted himself onto Cricket’s back. Cassidy led the way past the riding arena and to the beginnings of a trail that led out into the brush. She sat easily in the saddle, swaying with the horse’s movements. Javi tried to relax and imitate her, but it was hard to strike the right balance between following the horse and staying in control.

************************************

Cassidy turned in the saddle to check on Javi. “Jesus Christ, man, relax,” she laughed. “Give her a loose rein and sit back on the cantle. She won’t bolt on you. Trust her. Cricket’s a good girl.”

She was sure Javi had narrowed his eyes behind his ubiquitous aviator sunglasses. She kept hoping he’d lose them somewhere; they reminded her of that cheesy show about the California highway patrol officers from the 70’s.

“Last time I trusted a horse, he took me through a barbed wire fence and dumped me in a patch of cactus,” Javi grumbled. “I like to be in control of my horse.” He lifted his chin at her in accusation. It was true that she was sitting halfway round in her saddle, one foot out of the stirrup, with the reins looped loosely around the saddle horn.

“I’m still in control,” she retorted. “I just don’t have to rule with an iron hand.” She shifted her weight, cueing Dawson to stop, and he did. Javi pulled back on Cricket’s reins to keep her from walking into Dawson’s butt. “See!” Cassidy cried. “Right there. You hauled on her mouth. All she needs is for you to sit back in the saddle, drop your weight, open your legs a little.” She held up her hand to forestall the snide comment she knew he was dying to make. “Yeah, I heard it. But it’s true. You don’t need to be yanking on the reins. I don’t cowboy my horses, and I don’t charro my horses. Got it?” Dawson shifted nervously beneath her. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but damn, men were such asses sometimes when it came to horses.

Javi nodded. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to be gentler,” he said. “But in my defense, my dad’s horses aren’t as well trained as this little lady.” He leaned forward to smooth down a section of Cricket’s mane that had flipped the wrong way, and Cassidy saw that he could be gentle if he wanted to be. She also wondered what it would feel like to have that hand smooth her own hair away from her neck and … she shook her head. Focus, Cass, focus!

“All right, as long as we’re on the same page,” she said. “Come on, let’s ride.” She nudged Dawson into a walk and then a trot. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Javi he was a bone shaker. It was nearly impossible to sit his trot, so she posted as best she could. She did take a glance back and saw that Javi was bouncing around in the saddle a bit, even with Cricket’s smooth Quarter Horse jog.

She slowed to a walk when they reached a wide, open section of grassland where the well defined trail they’d been following broke into a braid of tracks. “Bring her up alongside,” she said. “I want Dawson to get used to being next to other horses, not always single file.”

Javi let Cricket stride out until they had caught up. Dawson immediately pinned his ears. “Hey, hey, none of that,” Cassidy chided him, taking a firmer grip on the reins. Cricket snorted and shook her head as if to say, Amateur.

They rode in silence for a while, no sound but the creaking of saddle leather, the jingling of bits, the thud of hooves, and the occasional snort as the horses blew dust from their noses. “This is the life,” Cassidy said eventually. She dropped the reins and leaned back to rest her hands on Dawson’s rump. “I could do this forever.”

Javi looked over at her, and she felt his eyes travel the length of her body. “I could watch it forever,” he said.

“You’re disgusting,” she said, sitting back up properly. “But you don’t look so bad yourself, when you’re not trying to be all macho and in control.” She ran her own eyes over him, his long legs hanging loosely along Cricket’s sides, his hips moving gently with her strides, his huge hands lightly holding the leather reins. Yeah, he looked damned good.

Javi shrugged. “Okay, so we agree we both look hot in the saddle,” he said. “Can we head back now before I get a callus on my ass the size of Dallas?”

Cassidy laughed. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Mr. Pena,” she said. “Giddy up!” She tapped her heels against Dawson’s sides, urging him into a canter. Cricket didn’t need any encouragement to join in; she loved to run.

“Hey!” Javi yelped as Cricket lowered her head and lit out after Cassidy. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You snooze, you lose!” Cassidy cried. “Yee haw!” She leaned forward and urged Dawson into a full on gallop. She heard Javi cursing behind her and knew that Cricket had kicked into overdrive. She was a sweet mare but had a competitive streak that would put a racehorse to shame. No one outran her. In just a few strides, she’d caught Dawson and was pulling ahead. She flicked an ear at Javi but kept going. Cassidy laughed. “That’s my girl. Show him who’s boss!”

As soon as she’d put a length or two between them, Cricket slowed her stride. Cassidy reined Dawson back into a canter, then to a trot, and finally a walk. He was blowing hard, but Cricket looked ready to go again.

“Damn, that was insane,” Javi said once the two horse were walking side by side again.

“Never underestimate a woman,” Cassidy said. “Human or equine.”

Javi smiled, something she rarely got to see. “Point taken,” he said. “Now, seriously, can we go home now? My ass is killing me.”