#post bathroom being a truly awful time for them both. just scratches something in my brain

[zer0point5ive]

came back wrong except. not in the usual sense. came back wrong except it’s adam surviving the trap and him and lawrence trying to navigate life together while walking on eggshells around one another. came back wrong except it’s adam looking at the speck of blood just under lawrence’s jaw when he comes home late ‘from work’ and turning away so he doesn’t have to look at him. came back wrong except it’s lawrence looking at the scar on adams shoulder and feeling adams permanently cold hands and wondering if he ever actually came back at all. came back wrong except it’s adam yelling at lawrence, saying that he wishes they’d both died in that room while lawrence holds him with an impassive look on his face as he lets the mask fall back on. came back wrong except this was the only way to come back. the damage has already been done and everything that happened, happened. they’re both wrong and it’s too much and not enough. too late and yet still not enough time gone. it’s all wrong but it’s all they have

[chicgeekgirl89]

Quite an Impression

For @badthingshappenbingo​

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Most of the 126

Prompt: Slammed Into a Wall

Rating: T

Summary: A night out with the 126 doesn't go exactly as planned for Carlos. You can take a cop off duty, but you can't take the duty out of a cop.

AO3/ff.net

“I think he stepped in every single cow patty in that whole damn field!” Paul was laughing so hard he was wheezing and everyone else at the table was in a similar state of hilarity.

“They were everywhere!” Mateo cried indignantly. “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose! Besides you all made me go out there!”

“That’s your job probie. Doing the shit things nobody else wants to,” Judd said, his joke causing another roar of laughter from the group.

The hour was growing late but the crowd at the bar had just started to get going. It was rare for the entire 126 to be out post-shift on a Friday night and they were making the most of it. Owen had joined them for a few hours and then gone home to get his “beauty sleep” as Judd referred to it. He’d given them a brief “dad” lecture about making good choices and not staying out too late and then left them to their fun. Tommy had begged off at the same time citing her need to get home to Charles and the girls, leaving only the younger members of the team to finish out the night. 

“Who needs another round?” Marjan asked. 

Carlos released T.K.’s hand from under the table and stood up. “I got it,” he said. “Sounds like it was a rough shift.”

He made his way to the bar and ordered drinks for the group and nodded patiently when the bartender told him it would be a minute. They were clearly understaffed tonight and doing an admirable job, but one person making drinks for dozens could only move so fast.

Carlos was severely jostled by a beefy man who pushed his way into the bar. “Hey! Sweetheart!” he yelled far too loudly, even for a crowded bar. 

Carlos winced but didn’t say anything. Yelling too loud wasn’t a crime, and the last thing anyone needed tonight was an altercation.

“Hey!” the guy yelled again. “Anybody in this place going to serve me or what?”

From the smell of him and the way he was swaying he’d already been served several times over. Carlos let out a grunt and stumbled a few steps to the right as the man bumped into him again.

“Hey!” he heard someone else exclaim as the man tried to push even closer to the bar. 

“You! Bitch!” the guy yelled. “Are you going to serve me a damn drink or what?”

“Hey knock it off!” another man nearby yelled.

The drunk guy turned on him. “What did you say to me?” he growled.

“You need to get out of here,” the man said. “Go home. You’re drunk.”

The drunk man growled and gave the guy a shove. 

“Whoa, hey now.” Carlos moved, no longer able to ignore the unfolding situation, stepping in between them, hands up in a non-threatening manner. “Let’s just calm down here.”

“I want a drink!” the guy snapped. 

“I think you’re done for the night,” Carlos told him, keeping his voice even and relaxed. “How about a coffee instead?” 

“I’m not leaving without a drink! I’m here and I’ll get a drink if I want it!”

Clearly this guy wasn’t going to take a gentle suggestion. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Carlos said. “Why don’t I call you an Uber all right?”

He should have seen the punch coming but he’d had a couple beers of his own and he honestly wasn’t expecting a drunk guy to move so fast. One moment Carlos was standing upright the next he was doubled over in pain. He barely had time to register that he’d been punched before he felt himself being propelled backward until he slammed against the wall, head cracking sharply against the plaster, making spots dance before his eyes. 

Hands wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air. He struggled, his own hands grabbing and scratching as he tried desperately to take a breath and failed. He grabbed onto the man’s wrists, trying in vain to pull them off, but the guy was big and strong and nothing Carlos did made him budge even a little.

He was beginning to truly panic when the hands vanished and he fell to the ground on all fours, choking and gasping for air. 

“Carlos!” T.K. dropped to his knees beside him, hands cradling his face. “Hey! Breathe, breathe! Deep breaths, you’re okay!”

As the roaring in Carlos’ ears began to fade and breath became easier to come by he could hear shouting and scuffling throughout the bar. He started to get to his feet but pain in his ribs and dizziness in his head stopped him, along with T.K.’s hands, which had moved to his shoulders. “Hey, no, nope, you’re out of the fight for now,” T.K. told him. “Judd’s got him handled.”

There were already sirens blaring outside and Carlos felt a trickle of embarrassment at having to be rescued by his own people. This would be all over the precinct tomorrow and he might never live it down.

“Do you think you can stand?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded and let his boyfriend help him to his feet and into a chair. He winced, putting a hand to his abdomen. The pain there was in competition with the bruising he could already feel around his throat. “Just couldn’t stay off the job, huh?” T.K. asked with a slightly forced smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“I didn’t start it,” Carlos said, his voice coming out strained and painful. 

“I know,” T.K. cupped his cheek. “What hurts?”

Carlos sucked in a shaky breath and tried to take stock of himself. “My ribs. My neck.”

“Hey is he okay?” Marjan asked, coming toward them.

“He’ll live,” T.K. said. “Can you get me some ice?”

She nodded. “On it.”

“How bad’s the pain?” T.K. asked as he began running his hands gently through Carlos’ hair.

He had clearly slipped into paramedic mode, fingers searching for injuries. “I’m fine,” Carlos said. “Just bruised.”

T.K. probed gently at his abdomen and Carlos winced. “Tender?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes. 

Marjan returned with a couple bags of ice and towels. “Thanks,” T.K. said wrapping up one bag and handing it to Carlos. “Put this on your ribs.”

“Is everyone else all right?” Carlos asked, trying to see around T.K. to where his fellow cops had started taking statements.

“Nancy’s looking at Judd’s hand, it’s probably just bruised but he might have broken a finger or two. Took a lot to get that guy down,” Marjan said. 

T.K. finally shifted enough that Carlos could see what was happening. The drunk guy was being hauled off the floor by a couple of Carlos’ colleagues. Mateo and Paul were both glaring at him, arms crossed, clearly annoyed that he’d ruined the team’s evening out. Judd was sitting in a chair nearby holding some ice on his hand while Nancy appeared to be consulting with a newly arrived paramedic team.

It was another hour of being checked over (he was fine, just bruised as predicted) and giving statements (yes he was an off duty officer, no he had not instigated the fight, no he had not put his hands on his assailant).

“You doing all right?” Judd asked when things finally began to clear out.

“I’m fine,” Carlos said. “Thanks to you. How’s your hand?”

“Aw it’ll be good in a day or two,” Judd said, turning it over and flexing his fingers. 

“You should have seen it!” Mateo said. “I’ve never seen Judd move so fast!”

“Well he was try’na kill Carlos,” Judd grumbled, clearly disgruntled at having attention brought to his heroics. “If I hadn’t saved him T.K. woulda cried and I didn’t want no part in that.”

“I sincerely appreciate it,” Carlos said. 

“And with that, we should probably all go home and get some sleep,” Paul said, clapping a hand on Judd’s shoulder.

T.K. gently took the keys from Carlos’ fingers in the parking lot and Carlos shot him a grateful smile, climbing gingerly into the passenger seat. 

He found himself nodding off on the way home, T.K.’s hand a comforting presence on his knee the entire way.

He walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and winced when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Finger shaped bruises ringed his throat and he swallowed hard, remembering those eternal seconds when his oxygen had cut off and he’d been sure he was about to die.

“Hey.” T.K. slipped in behind him, arms going around his waist as he pressed a kiss to Carlos’ shoulder. “They’ll fade in a couple days.”

Carlos nodded. “I know.”

“No one will say anything at work.”

Carlos scoffed. “Oh, everyone will say something at work. ‘Heard you had to be rescued by a firefighter Reyes.’ ‘Heard you got your ass kicked by a drunk guy Reyes.’”

T.K. gently turned him around so he could look him in the eye. “You saved people from getting hurt tonight. I’m proud of you. That’s all that matters.”

Carlos dropped his forehead, letting it rest against T.K.’s as T.K.’s hand came up to cup his face. Carlos closed the rest of the distance, their lips meeting in a soft, reassuring kiss.

T.K. pulled back after a moment, a cocky smile on his face. Carlos raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Well at least a couple good things came out of tonight.”

“And they are…?”

“He didn’t go for your face.” T.K. rubbed his thumb over Carlos’ cheek. 

“Yes the sucker punch to the gut was definitely more pleasant,” Carlos said sarcastically, a hand moving to his still throbbing ribcage. “What’s the other thing?”

T.K. grinned. “Thirty years from now when I want to remember how perfect your ass looked when you were young and fit, all I have to do is visit that bar and see the impression you left in the wall.”

[spursnroses]

So I’m still trying to process what happened last night. I need to write it out because I have no one nor place for it. First, I am going to warn you that this post will contain triggers such as mental illness, suicidal ideations/suicide that involves a family member, violent threats/verbal abuse, sexual abuse, alcohol abuse, and family death. Please do not read if you cannot handle such heavy content.

Last night my mother ended up drinking quite a bit, and we got into a fight.

She threw a temper tantrum for a very stupid reason - her phone died and her only phone charger was too short because over a couple of weeks ago my cat chewed up her other one which she left out despite knowing about his chewing habits by the way. She ranted about wanting to kill my cat/wishing he would die. She then threatened to take my phone and break it, so she made several attempts to grab it from me, but I refused. It turned into a wrestling match - I tried shoving her off me.

Of course, I grew upset. I kept telling her to stop or that she was making me angry. She wouldn’t listen. She deliberately kept me from going into my room so I could remove myself from the situation. I finally gave up and pushed my phone into her chest: “You want my phone so damn bad. Here you go.” I walked past her into the bathroom to wash off the blood from the scratch she gave me in the process.  This made her angrier and shoved my phone back into my jacket’s pocket violently and tried to rip my jacket. She started to mock me for being hurt. She deflected by making claims that she was just playing around and that I always treat her she was such a horrible person and mother. That she’s an abuser. That I should go live with my “father” who never had anything to do with me in my entire life.

I tried to defuse the situation once again by trying to console her because I already felt tired by this point. I brought her a cup of water then she went to bed hoping she’ll just sleep it off. I was wrong.

She came back out and rummaged through the kitchen’s drawers. I pleaded with my mother from killing herself for however many times. She first cut her arm and her leg. She stood there in the kitchen with a knife to her throat. Eventually, I was able to calm her down. When she returned to her room, I immediately hid all the objects she could hurt herself with and she finally went to sleep.  For many years, ever since I was a child, I lived with a severely mentally ill and single parent. My youngest memory of her mental illness remains fresh in my mind - I would be six years old and get up in the mornings to make breakfast and wandered outside alone while she still slept in bed almost all day. I found myself terrified by her violent outbursts or meltdowns - I would lie through my teeth to avoid her anger - sometimes I still am terrified. She depended on me a lot for emotional support despite being a child; wanting to be the best daughter, of course, I did whatever I could to make her happy. People would constantly compliment me on how mature I was for a young girl.  I used to be highly sensitive during my early childhood - I would cry at the simplest “no” - but I think it had a lot to do with emotional neglect. As I grew older, I detached myself from emotions. Today I still struggle with expressing how I feel.

I carry a lot of trauma from life - my mother, though most of it is unintentional, emotionally manipulated and abused me for who knows how long and her past boyfriend who sexually abused me when I was five and six years old. Growing up deaf came with no easy tasks too. I already knew I was different from other kids when I walked on the playground with no friends. I experienced constant fatigue and anxiety.

Recently, I lost both of my grandparents who helped to raise me; they were my biggest support system. In 2015, my grandma unexpectedly grew ill and passed away on my birthday. My grandpa had early-onset dementia, and it was awful and stressful. He eventually succumbed to his bodily ailments in 2019. I watched and said my final goodbyes to both of them on their deathbeds. That’s when the drinking escalated especially since my grandma died. Alcoholism runs deep in my family. My grandpa, unfortunately, drank, his brother and sister also drank to themselves to death, and now my mother and aunt drink heavily.

When my mother drinks, she binges to the point she rages or blackouts. She has called in sick to work multiple times before because she’s so hungover. 50/50 of the time when she’s drunk, she’ll start picking fights with me. On a few occasions, it has become physical such as blocking my path or cornering me but most of the time it evolves into name-calling, berating, and guilt-tripping. She often breaks things when she goes into a white-hot rage. There are dents on the walls of the bathroom. A few weeks ago, she shattered one of my grandma’s possessions. She once ripped the front door off its hinges which I later fixed.  She sometimes brings strange men to the house, and last year, one of them crawled into my bed naked and grabbed my wrist waking me up. It scared me so badly. Thankfully he didn’t do anything to me because I jerked away and asked, “What are you doing?” and he left my room. I woke my mom up and had him leave. My mother still had the gall to say I was just dreaming it. After that incident, I installed a lock on my door and sleep with a tazer under my pillow.

I have accepted at this point in life it is out of my control. I can’t stop her from drinking. I can’t force her to seek treatment.

She always had a poor temper and suicidal tendencies though. It just intensified with alcohol. One time she took a bunch of pills with vodka and fell in the shower mostly unresponsive. I called my aunt for help, and she came over; so did the paramedics. She spent a few days in an institution for observation and treatment, but that never really helped her. This was not her first episode; she ended up there a few times - over a year ago her former counselor called the police on her and they came to the house. One of the policemen found the pill bottle with my name on it and accused me of giving my mother the bottle though this situation was beyond my control. She ended up at the hospital then transferred to the institution for suicide watch. She never became the better for it. She refuses and claims nothing ever helps her. Lately, I have been trying to distance myself from my mother. It’s difficult to set boundaries because she constantly crosses them. I have grown to become very angry and resentful especially towards her. My mother is extremely emotionally enmeshed. She depends on me for emotional support, but after so many years, it is starting to wear me down. I no longer want to feel responsible for her emotions. I honestly have no support system in place. I don’t have any close friends to talk about what I’ve been going through. My aunt is clueless about what goes on at home, and I don’t intend to tell her about it because I know it just would cause more problems.  Sometimes, I just want to scream, kick, and cry. My life can be literal purgatory. I feel very trapped. I want so badly for something or someone to whisk me away from this life. It amazes me that I don’t act as fucked up as I truly am.

[gerbiloftriumph]

So you wanna be a king (pt2)

(or at least cosplay one.)

Continuing the cosplay creation saga for anyone interested, here’s how I put together my King Graham cosplay:

Part 2: Jerkin 

Disclaimer: I’m totally novice at cosplay and only do it for like one event per year if that, so take what you will or throw it all away.

Also this is not really a step by step tutorial post because this is several years ago and the details are hazy.

If you’re following along, then you should have a cloak and cowl (click for sort-of-instructions-here). 

Step one: Pull out those reference screencaps you made in the first part and stare at them. Repeat that you still love this character and that you’re committed to this nonsense. Ready? Let’s go.

The long sleeved purple undershirt I just happened to find at Goodwill. Please try to find something lightweight--this costume is warm. 

But you won’t be so lucky to find a jerkin at Goodwill too. You’ll have to make it, or at least modify something.

Still, it’s just an elaborate brown tank top, more or less. You don’t even have to worry about attaching sleeves! Surely this is an eas--wait, what are those lace things? Could you even bend down to pick up inventory items with laces that thick and close together? How can I translate that into something semi-practical I can wear without wanting to eat my adventuring hat? 

It’s a great design, but I’m mortal, not digital. If you can determine a simple way to get that lacing to look accurate while still being comfortably wearable, let me, novice cosplayer that I am, know. (maybe if they were just made separately, flat, and sewn on, like a decal thing?)

I had planned on building this out of fake leather/suede-ish material, but then I remembered I wanted to also wear this as my new RenFest costume, and I didn’t want to die in July. 

So I went to my local Joann’s and picked up a considerably lighter, thinner, and satisfactorily rich looking brown fabric (I think it was this stuff: https://www.joann.com/kona-cotton-solid-quilt-fabric/1378397.html) for both jerkin and bracers. I’ve lost the original receipt, so I’m not sure how much I bought. Too much, because my storage bin is full of leftovers. I’m sure 3 yards is more than plenty, but measure to be sure. 

Tunic time!

This is the point where the “How To Graham” tutorial breaks down and becomes especially fuzzy and experimental, because I kept none of my in-process notes. High five, Gerbil, very helpful indeed. You might just want to glance at this for ideas before doing your own thing. 

I laugh in the face of patterns, hahahaha. (bad idea, don’t be me.)

I got my favorite fitted t-shirt (Disney Afternoon ftw), paper, a ruler, and old scrap fabric to maul as practice. I pinned my shirt flat to paper and traced both the front and back separately (folded the sleeves in so my tracework was sleeveless). The front had a deeper neckline but was otherwise nearly identical to its back partner. Once both sides were traced, I added a half inch margin around them, cut them out, and started working on fake jerkins, so I could sculpt the right fit before I got out the nice fabric. I wanted the jerkin to be pretty form fitting as Graham’s is, so I curved the sides in a bit deeper. 

I made at least two fake jerkins, fyi.

Since I went pattern-less (hahahaarrgh), tests were crucial, especially regarding the neck hole. The t-shirt is elastic, but my fabric is not. I personally require at least 22″ around the neck to get the thing over my nose, and it’s barely enough clearance. (I’m fairly certain I measured some other shirts with my fabric ruler for a loose size to aim for, then did edits on the junk fabric til I had a size that worked.)

Tests also showed that the back piece needed an additional two and a half inches of fabric on the bottom thanks to how it sits on my shoulders. In the above image, you can see the green fabric is higher, but I wanted the piece to look balanced from the side. 

It’s a touch hard to see as it’s usually hidden by the cloak, but I find a balanced jerkin is a happy jerkin. 

And here’s that additional fabric without a human in it. (ack don’t look at my uneven stitches)

By now, you should have a belt (in my method it doesn’t matter how it clasps, so pick any belt you please as you’ll be wearing it backward) so you can determine how long the flappy things on the front and back should be. Where your belt sits comfortably is where your side laces will stop and your trim on the flap things will start--the belt hides the transition. 

Graham’s belt sits low on his (fantastically defined) hips. I prefer it on my waist so it doesn’t slide up when I’m walking, so my flap things are longer than his. For reference, my flap things...no, wait, there must be a technical term....Google says it’s a peplum. My peplum (??) are 8″ish long, though his look like they’re about half that. 

For reference, as a 5′6″ person, from hanger to hem my jerkin’s back piece is approximately 28″ long. The most important things here are how long it is overall, and if the neck hole is big enough to fit over your head: nearly everything else can be altered when wearing it via the lacework I have planned.

Look, at this point, you might want to give up on me and find a real shirt pattern, fitted or not. I understand. I’ll wait. This isn’t actually a step by step tutorial so much as a vague What I Did And It’s Probably Wrong. 

Okay, you’ve traced your favorite shirt (or bought a real pattern like a good person). Your tests have shown that your peplum sit at the same height on your leg, and you like the shape and feel of it when you wear your scrap fabric test (I recommend using safety pins to replicate the laces during the early size test phase). You’ve cut out the front and back shirt shaped pieces of brown fabric (with that half inch hem margin all around), and now they’re sitting on your floor, mocking you. 

The actual construction part!

The only attachment you’ll give these pieces is via the shoulders. If you’re new to this Making Your Own Clothes thing and your fabric has a nice side and a not nice side, put the nice sides against each other and sew along the not nice side so when you turn it over your hem is inside. 

I seam-ripped a collar from a shirt I loved but was too worn to wear otherwise--no math or sewing your own collar from scratch if you swipe it from another shirt. No one will ever see it since your cowl tucks into it, so it doesn’t matter how it looks, though natural colors are better than, say, blue, in case your cowl slips a bit. There are lots of lovely videos about attaching collars: this one seems nice, if you skip ahead to the actual sewing-on part at 4:50. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k31FWDp1s5I

At this point, since you’ve fitted it and trimmed it and done all that you want to it to get the shape you like, you’ll want to hem your shirt by that half inch margin all around so it’s clean and easy for the next part. It only looks vaguely shirt-like now since it’s held together just by the shoulders. 

Now, let’s get medieval on it. 

Time for lacing!

I used a blond suede leather rope to mimic the lighter color on Graham’s sides (check the beading or leather working section of the craft stores, and make sure it’s thick enough that it won’t snap under light strain, and thin enough it’ll fit through the grommet size you select). I already happened to own an anvil (...why?), so I just needed grommets. Mine appear to be 12mm--I got them in Ancient Copper. You’ll use them in the bracers later, too, so leftovers are a good thing for once. Hobby Lobby or Michaels can hook you up with supplies, but Etsy and eBay have more diverse color choices. 

Every inch from where the armpit opening stops to where the trim of the peplums begins (the height of which was established earlier when I decided to how to wear the belt), I made a mark for a grommet, and marked its corresponding partner. For reference, I have 9 holes down each hem, for 18 total holes per side, and a grand total 36 grommets in the tunic. I jammed an awl through the holes marked and applied the grommets as per the packet’s instruction. 

Like making a metal and fabric sandwich. With a hammer. 

It’s totally therapeutic. I can see why Amaya’s into this stuff. 

(It’s not a Looney Toons anvil, by the by: like this, instead.)

Unspool the suede rope and thread it through the grommets. To try and mimic the game, I use a ladder shoelace tie, starting with the grommet pair beneath the arms and running down until I tie a bow in the last pair. I tuck the loose ends into the waistband of the trousers. So, this: https://www.fieggen.com/shoelace/ladderlacing.htm

Finally, I made (because I couldn’t find to buy) my own trim about 1/2″ wide from some scrap light brown suede in the Joann Scrap Bin, and attached it to the peplum (is this truly a better word than flap, vote now).

And that, friend, is a jerkin that would make any real medieval person flinch but should be cool for cosplay. You should try it with your cloak and cowl. If you’re following my method, you get to layer up, lucky you: anchor shirt, long-sleeved-purple-undershirt, jerkin, cloak (snaps through the jerkin’s collar onto the anchor shirt), cowl (to cover your shoulders so you don’t see the cloak tugging at your jerkin collar). 

Yeah, it’s warm. Sorry.

Drink some water.

When you’re done sweating in it (eww, I know it’s awful, sorry), handwash it. Strip the rope out of the grommets, use handwashing detergent in a (clean!) bathroom sink, then hang it over a bathtub to dry before relacing it using that ladder shoelace technique and storing it on a hanger. I always have it laced, and pull it on over my head with it laced, too.

And with that, you’ve got about half of your entire cosplay done. Congrats! Take some time to relaaaax. You’re gonna be a king. 

(is this helpful at all to anyone? should i keep going?)

(peplum?? really????)

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, chapter 12

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

“It’s more or less hopeless,” Ienzo said. “Gummi ships can travel between worlds. Dark corridors can travel between types of matter. We’ve even learned so much about time travel. But no amount of science or bonds between hearts can shatter the border of reality. To even attempt to do so would threaten to pervert all of this World again for one life. I cannot do that. I won’t do that.” His nostrils flared. “But it feels like I’m killing him, Demyx.” He looked at his trembling hands. “It feels like it’s my fault.”

“I’m sure if Sora knew he’d tell you it isn’t. Isn’t that his whole thing? Saving the world? He’d understand.”

Ienzo pressed a hand to his mouth, silent tears staining his face. Demyx brought him into his arms and held him for a long time. But the shaking didn’t stop.

He must’ve fallen asleep.

Demyx had tried to stay awake, even if he couldn’t think of anything good to say to comfort Ienzo. But he’d been too tired. The next thing he was aware of was Ienzo pulling away from him.

“What?” Demyx asked sleepily. “Where you going?”

“...The washroom. Go back to sleep.” He kissed him gently.

But when he woke up early the next morning the bed was still empty, and Ienzo’s lab coat was missing. Demyx sighed, his heart sinking. He knew exactly where Ienzo was. He couldn’t help but be a little angry. He got dressed, washed his hands, and headed down to the lab.

Ienzo sat by the computer in the early morning light, shuffling papers, his brows scrunched in concentration.

“...So you had to go to the bathroom,” Demyx said tiredly.

Ienzo jumped, but then he sighed resignedly. “You wouldn’t have let me go.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t’ve.”

“I’ve… nothing to say in my own defense.”

“What happened to “I cannot, I won’t”?”

“I was hoping there was some way compatible with this world--” He trailed off.

“And that sort of thinking becomes “well there isn’t, but. ””

“What would you know about such things?” Ienzo asked sourly.

Heat burned in his cheeks. “Um, because I’m not an idiot? Because I’ve heard all those stories about the apprentices and their ambition?”

“ My ambition. I’m an apprentice.”

“Yeah, and I’ve also seen you completely lose your mind with guilt because of well-intentioned research gone wrong!”

“Would you feel this passionately if it were not Sora?” Ienzo asked softly. “If it were say, someone else entirely that needed saving?”

A cold jolt swept through him. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve never hesitated to make your ambivalence for him known.”

“Uh, yeah, because he murdered me. Something I still have nightmares about, by the way.” He shook his head. “I don’t want this to destroy you again. Ienzo, please. If not for you, then… for me.”

Ienzo looked away, his face pink.

He clenched his fist. “Alright. Fine. I see how it is.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I guess I don’t. What ever , Ienzo.” The anger gave him enough strength to leave the lab, but already it was giving way to something far worse and more painful. The hurt throttled him again and again.

He should’ve known, really. From the start. He would never be enough. No amount of tenderness or love could stop Ienzo from destroying himself, from destroying them. Why had Demyx assumed it would be? Why had he let himself be so vulnerable? Had he been lied to?

He had to get out of here.

Outside the air was brittle, and it smelled like snow. He shivered but kept moving, all the way through town, until he was staring down the border between Radiant Garden and complete blue wilderness. He sank down weakly onto the navy and green mosaic. He'd brought himself to the place where he'd been killed. With the wisps of Sora's fate up in the air, how could he feel anything but relieved? Demyx touched the spot below his ribs where Sora had bludgeoned him. He's always held Ienzo's need to help Sora at arm's length. But living to save others was no meaningful way of atonement if it swallowed you in the process. If Ienzo felt he wasn't worth anything, then Demyx must be worth even less; like he'd always been.

He tried to gather his thoughts, but everything was knotted up so tightly in pain that he could barely breathe. For too long he sat, trying to process what happened and trying to find the will to just get up.

A soft, whispering sound brought him back. He glanced behind him, only to see the greedy, blank faces of several pureblood Heartless. Of course. Emotional pain was like a buffet for them, and he was bleeding it. He stood, and they tensed. If he moved slowly enough, he might be able to get away.

More emerged from the ground, blocking off the way back to town. He could push through them, of course, but they’d no doubt make chase. He was fast, but not fast enough to outrun them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hissed through his teeth.

They moved in a slow, insistent circle. They knew they had an easy target. A quick, tasty meal. Somewhere in this something in him just gave out, and Demyx laughed.

“Figures. Fucking figures!”

The hysteria was too tempting for them, and they descended. He tried to fight at first, but there was only so much he could do. The sticky, inky smell of darkness assaulted him. Their claws scratched him, and he couldn’t see.

Something snapped and there was a burst of light, enough to shake them off of him. He was holding something in his hand, a weapon, but too shocked to really process what was going on, he let this strange instinct take over and fought them until most of them were gone and the rest ran away.

The weapon fell to the ground with a metallic clank . It did not sound like his sitar did when it fell. Demyx saw the delicate, smooth shape of the Keyblade and shook his head. It vanished like it had never been there.

Something hot dripped down his side. He looked down. He was bleeding profusely from a puncture wound in his side; one of the bastards must have hit an artery. The wound wasn’t infected with darkness, but it didn’t matter. He was bleeding too much, even as he tried to apply some pressure. He had to try and get help. His vision started to swim and he tried to take a few steps, only to fall to his knees. Trying to crawl only worsened the bleeding and the lightheadedness, and black dots swam at the edge of his vision.

Am I actually dying? For real this time?

A weird, delirious giddiness took over, and he laughed, tasting blood.

Well, at least I tried.

The light was warm.

Demyx stirred, not wanting to wake up. He wasn’t ready to face being dead, not yet. Just a few more minutes. Pain echoed through his body. Was it supposed to hurt?

“Easy. Easy,” said a voice. “Try not to move, okay?”

He complied. He felt weird, and numb, and when he tried to open his eyes his vision was blurry. He saw the woman’s long brown hair. He knew who this was. What was her name again?

“It’s good you’re trying to wake up, but for the heal to take you need to go back to sleep. Relax. I’ve got you, Demyx.”

A wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he dozed off.

The sun had set, and the moon was out. Someone had placed the illumina plant on the windowsill, and its petals were glowing faintly. This was the first thing he noticed.

His body felt weird, and heavy. His side throbbed faintly. Something smelled like bleach. There was a pressure on his left hand, warm and steady, and he squeezed back.

“Demyx? Demyx, oh thank goodness.”

He tried to turn his head towards the sound of the voice. Moving was hard, and he suspected he’d been drugged. He blinked to clear the rest of the blurriness. Ienzo, pale and wan, his eyes bloodshot. Demyx stuttered his name.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said. “All those awful things I said… I’m so sorry.”

Speaking was difficult. “What…”

“You’re lucky. Yuffie was on patrol in the area and found you. Aerith saved your life. That wound would’ve killed you. It nearly did kill you.” He held Demyx’s hand to his face. “I am so… foolish.”

“No.”

He laughed. Demyx could feel his tears on his hand. “Even weak and drugged you’re trying to comfort me. I truly… do not deserve you.” Ienzo kissed his hand. “Get some rest.”

Day. His head was clearer, but the pain in his side was sharper.

“...It’s looking good,” Aerith said. “Circulation completely restored. No more internal bleeding. It’ll probably scar, but there’s not much I can do for that. Sit up for me?”

Demyx did so. The pain made him flinch.

“It looks like you’ll make a full recovery. You just need to take it very, very easy the next few days. Once the pain subsides, you’ll be good to go.”

Demyx looked down at the angry pink mark just above his hip. “Thank you,” he said. “Without you, I’d be toast.”

She smiled. “It is my job,” she said. “I hope that once you’ll recover you’ll come visit. From what Yuffie said, it sounds like you’ve got a story to tell.”

He blinked in confusion.

“I think you’re well enough that I can turn your care over to Even. If you have any concerns, give me a call. We’ve got a gummiphone now too.”

“Sure,” he said. He was a little dizzy.

Aerith left. How was he still so tired? He’d been sleeping and sleeping. Was it the painkillers? He had vague memories of getting shots of them, of bandages, of tubes of pinkish replacement fluid. There were no more tubes or bandages, just the thin, needy pain in his side. Everything, including those last few moments after the attack, was so fuzzy. He looked down at his palm. Had he really summoned the--? Maybe it had been a dream? He'd hoped that, despite all evidence, that his past wasn't really his past.

Ienzo came in and approached him. He looked ashamed, more than anything, his head bowed low. “Aerith said you’ve healed beautifully,” he said in an artificially bright voice. “Now it’s your turn to take some time to recover.” He sat down in the chair next to the bed. “I’ve been so worried. We all have. I’m truly sorry.”

He wanted to say it was okay, but it wasn’t. “You hurt me,” Demyx said. "You made me feel like all of this meant nothing to you."

“...I know. I came to my senses not minutes after you left. But by then… you’d already been injured.” He sighed. “More than anything this situation made me realize that I must acknowledge when things are out of my hands. Pushing myself to fix the impossible is not only dangerous for me, but for those I love. I assure you, Demyx, I did not mean to make you feel that way. I really know so little when it comes to dealing with these complex, mature emotions.”

Demyx only processed maybe half of what Ienzo said. He took a sharp breath that hurt his side. “...You love me?”

Ienzo blinked, his face pink. “Of course I do. I… I thought you were aware of that.”

Demyx shook his head. “I love you too.” He felt a flare of pain inside of his chest, white hot and almost unbearable. He crumpled a little, holding a hand to his heart as though it might physically restrain the pain. Dizziness washed over his vision.

Ienzo grasped his shoulders. "Demyx?" he asked. "What is it?"

The pain peaked suddenly, and he swayed into Ienzo's arms. It subsided equally as quickly, leaving him feeling warm and a bit sweaty. It felt like a film had been peeled from his vision, leaving everything clearer than before. The deep, consuming emptiness that had lingered all this time was gone, leaving a steady stability in its place. A sense of wholeness. Demyx touched his chest. "I think... I think I'm whole?"

Ienzo’s eyebrows shot up, and then he put a hand to his face. “How silly of me not to realize. To see and be seen, or love and be loved… You must have needed to hear it out loud for your heart to be fully complete.”

Demyx hugged him.

Ienzo laughed. “Welcome to the human race.”

[xxbalamazxx]

Downfall Of Democracy In The West

I have said it for years now, the writing has been on the wall. Democracy is crumbling around us all. It is shattering into grains smaller than that of sand. Yet the people seem to be ok with it, blinded by their rage, their misunderstanding. Popularism seems to be the new trend, it seems to be the core of what society wants. Popularism, however, is not a system of governance. Rather it is a mere opinion or feeling, a social condemnation for anything shunned, it doesn't matter if it is right or wrong... It is easily manipulated and worse than mob rule… It is the voice of celebrity and notoriety seekers over the want and demand of the masses. It holds no gain other than that of the select few…. Often leading the suppression of one's rights for the obtaining of personal wealth…

Democracy is failing my friends, it is crumbling unto dust. For the first time, we see the vote of people being undone. The rights to privacy, the freedom of speech, the will of the people being abridged. Not to any measurement of justice, nor any measurement of will, rather for the select power acquisition of a few celebrities or corporate powers… It is crushing what once made the west great. is obliterating our system of law. Each generation has its battle, ours has been masked from us. It has been confused with civil movements, and seeking more “Rights” for the few whiles ripping them from others… While in the dark the powers that be move against us… Its time to wake the hell up. How is this occurring?? What is going on? It is simple, democracy is being subverted, the vote of the people is being overturned and not just in one country either.

Step 1: In the United States, a president comes into power, he takes his oath and is sworn into office. Within moments protest start in the streets. Riots break out all over the USA. The president came to power via the system, yet it was not good enough for the masses. For the first time in the history of the USA social media is used by those whom were denied power to disrupt the rightful process of what should have occurred. It immediately becomes normalized. The rule of law becomes undone. The Media immediately starts to report it as a resistance, encouraging for more to join in. Treason to the president, to the government, openly heralds. Yet how did this occur? I am still scratching my head trying to figure it out. While I did not oppose nor support Donald Trump in the elections (I am an independent). It is clear something is a miss, on both sides… To the left ( The Democrats) we had a woman “ Hillary Clinton” seeking power. Openly she commits over 300,000 acts of treason to the USA. Enough to have had her shot before a firing squad. Yet the FBI covers for her. Witnesses “Mysteriously” hang themselves the night before testifying before Congress. Openly her people call for revolt, open violence against the government as she lost the election. She accuses the system of being corrupt, rigged… Yet the system was good enough to get her bigoted husband Bill Clinton into power… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ULl41fNBLA To the other side, President Donald Trump begins to undo years worth of bills that were put into place to help those whom needed help. Overnight corporate power grows, the richer become richer and the poorer becomes poorer. Each side blames each other… Yet they seem to be working together to divide the population and conquer. After all, all bills that are passed by Trump help the Clinton's, and all actions Hillary openly declares, adds more fuel to trumps fire… One sits in the literal office, while the other controls the nation and its media through popular control... Using social media to challenge every bill the president passes, criticizing his actions until the country is divided… Openly weak, openly fractured to all that dare looks towards it… Over the next term, for the first time, singular un-elected groups have sway over the government, policy and more importantly the people…. Step 2: In the United Kingdom the people go to the vote as the largest exercise of democracy takes place in a referendum to leave or stay in the EU “Brexit”. With in the first few months of the exercise, the Media begins to report that Brexit will fail. They push with all their might to sway the people. For the first time openly the Media in the UK begins to attempt to sway the people in another Popular exercise of control. They parade celebrities on T.V, they condemn anyone that would oppose their view as “insane” “unstable” and “racist”, even in some cases calling for violence… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSBAYP-BKbg Yet as the voting day draws near like the election in the USA something unexpected occurs. Instead of following the popular opinion of celebrities and the press, the people vote to leave the EU. Overnight the news, the media and the government begin to insult and punish the people… For the first time, direct cuts are targeted against the poor in a cruel retaliation. The government attempts to drop benefits on the lowest of the poor that would see them impoverished to destitution. This, however, was blocked by the House of Lords. Yet to subvert even the most basic checks and balances, the government then brings universal credits to implement the cuts. The Bank Of England increase mortgage rates to apply pressure to the Nation. Guilds and Large corporations raise the prices of food and what the people now deemed Project fear begins… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJRQO50VTKU Un Investigates Uk Poverty With already obscenely high taxes, increases in food& basic's pricing. The threat of the loss of jobs and an economy deliberately destabilized by the unhappy elite the government of the united kingdom announces an apocalyptic view of a post Brexit environment. Immediately a repeat of the USA drama plays out on the world stage. To the left the “ Labour” they openly condemn Brexit, demanding a re-vote. ( Similar to Hillary Clinton in the USA election.) They accuse the government of being corrupt tyrannical, all while voting up bills that harm the population. Jeremy Corbin calls for resistance condemning the Tories... Openly a Popular plot is launched. Every attempt to negotiate a deal with Europe is trampled by the Labour Party. They subvert the mass vote by going to the courts, calling on the queen, and even going to the house of lords ( which labor has condemned as being unelected officials each time they don't agree in their favor). In the past two years, the Prime Minster changes hands not once but two times. From David Cameron to Theresa May. From Theresa May to now Boris Johnson. Much like the despicable acts in the USA, each leader is deemed Tyrannical, Racist, bigoted, and downright nasty by the populist elite. They are targeted, discredited and driven from office… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkgWsJPA_B8 Jeremy Corbyn once again tries to change Prime Minister Now three times Democracy has been directly subverted in the courts of the United Kingdom. Each time by a private citizen using the supreme court to overrule actions, suing for openings of parliament. And abusing the democratic process. While I hold no opinion as a Resident of the UK and Not a citizen. The People voted, yet subversion of the vote is blatant. The Entire government works against the will of the people… And I wished, I truly do that it just ended there, but it does not. Step 3: In France, the people riot as their rights are being trampled over. The minimum wage is not enough to live on. Yellowjackets ( workers) take to the streets in protest. In a direct statement of defiance, the government condemns them as unlawful, even terrorist and begin using the military. Chemical weapons are deployed to suppress the movement. In the United Kingdom, the movement spreads and to Holland and Germany, each countries government follows suit… Condemnation erupts, the will of the people is openly oppressed… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aw-9o0GXrns It does not seem to matter where you are in the west at the moment, laws violating privacy have become commonplace, with little retaliation from the population, other than “ If you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear!”. Yet our forefathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and uncles died for that right to privacy… They died for the right to be at peace… Even worse the freedom of speech and that of the press now goes silenced… Due to popularism, social media pressure and a new generation who do not understand the importance of the right to say a word. The freedom of speech is being slowly oppressed. In the United Kingdom and all of the EU you can be arrested for saying the wrong word, and serve years. Even in the USA now due to social media pressure ( Most of it not even being of western descent.) The rights of the singular person are now trampled on for what is often mislead ideals of the larger sum. The mere words uttered of “ That Offends Me” Are grounds to summon the law… This is what our governments have wanted for a while. An excuse to silence all that oppose them. With offense everywhere and arguments such as Corporate rights, company rights, governmental rights. You can be deemed a sense offender at any time… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnIQalprvR8 From fear-mongering & stripping away rights. To open full-blown governmental rebellion, to that of party politics committing both mass conspiracy and downright treason. Democracy is openly and utterly being subverted at its core. Yet the people seemed to be more concerned by who is offending whom. They seem to be more concerned by someone's right to use whatever bathroom they want to, over the rights that will be left for their children and grandchildren. The reality of things is that it's becoming Orwell's 1984. The people ignore the facts, suffering has erupted on a global scale due to the great division of western nations. Children starve, innocent women and men are detained for merely uttering their desires to have what many of us would so easily give up. In just and Inhuman wars are being ignored without western intervention. Yet it is our duty, our mandate to secure and protect the people of all nations. Not just the ones that are white of skin or western in idealism. But all nations in which a people want to be free… Yet the word of a Russian condemning US or EU forces actions is so easily repeated by our children that are already out of control. The violence spreads through our streets as foreign agents subject the minds of our people with dissidents, simply by using an account on Facebook that says Alabama on its location… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QoTHQV0Dts Sinister forces are implementing plans that are dividing the west while the east unifies. During this process of the last four years Russia, China and Iran have formed a coalition that has thrived off western division. Yet internally nothing is done about it, the people forget that it is through the actions of previous generations that we have lived good lives. That it is was through their sacrifice that we obtained wealth. Yet now the people wag their finger at every success the west has had. They trust in foreign conspiracies than the words of our men and women that were there… It is as if they are looking for a reason to betray, any reason what so ever. We simply stare at our phones and condemn anyone that would speak up against it… As if we are already occupied. Dictators have arisen to the world stage, yet the west continues to focus on which is the best YouTuber while Russia veto’s every and all action to help those in need. For anyone who speaks up about this tyranny, Russia needs not do a thing, for it is commonplace for children and Internet trolls to recite law and give up all morality or virtue… Chemical weapons are used on UK soil by Russian agents, that is backed by Dutch chemists who prove the compound. The people scream “ Leave Russia alone” as if they had done nothing wrong, yet victims lay dead. It is as if some mental illness has taken hold. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZf8FwIPAuc Ukraine has an entire province annexed after being threatened by Russia for years. We, their allies abandon them due to the calls of communists in our streets. Russia uses an excuse that there are Russians their so they have the right to take the land by force… Yet in the defense of Ukraine, the law does not apply? Again our people remain silent and do nothing. Three years after Russia uses its hold on the region to choke trade ships and bully the international stage… Russia openly admits to interfering in elections all over the world. It admits to global espionage, yet the modern population sticks its nose up. The only time that matters is when their populist leaders make a point of it. The fact that this level of espionage is back indicating that the west is again on the brink of another cold war… Yet instead of acting, instead of stripping an international threat back down to size… The social influence, the populist elite rather wait until the threat becomes all too real… Until we are again at full-blown war… Because to do nothing today will make them a few more bucks, and it is not their children who will die tomorrow… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHzwMLx-rKc Elected officials in all offices are being run out of power by the minority view votes, well not votes, rather demand made from the sum of losing parties. In the USA the democrats accuse men and women of rape, incest, bigotry and acts of legal violations to grip hold. While in the UK similar processes are occurring. Each is a subversion of the will of the masses. It is as if someone wrote a bad play and we no longer care as we are fixated on celebrities, drama, and perceived special rights for said groups… It is as if not being offensive is more important then protecting our rights and thus protecting our children, our grand children's and their children. For if we are the generation that does nothing… It is us to blame for when they have nothing. How long will this last? How long till we no longer can call ourselves democracies? How long till our old enemies march to our doorstep? How long till we see that the ancient old trick of Divide and conquer is being used upon us today... Rather it is by sinister forces in our governments such as Jeremy Corbin, a known communist, and socialist sympathizer. Or Hillary Clinton who openly committed treason by releasing classified secrets. And perhaps the President of the USA whom is believed to have colluded with Vladimir Putin himself. Or that of foreign powers growing by the day. How long till we wake up? When is it too late to stand up for the rights and ways that our forefathers and mothers fought for? How long till we lose our democracy completely? Will it take another Pearl Harbour for you to finally see? Read the full article

[gillianfoster]

lesbian cal lightman post 3x13 lie to me fix it fic, also the most niche thing i’ve ever written

This isn’t the first time she’s done this, showing up at Gillian’s in the middle of the night. She still remembers the last time, after that woman at the bar had asked her who her ideal woman was, and then there she was at Gillian’s door. It’s a vulnerable feeling, like a bruise fresh on her cheek or skin scratched raw just at the surface. She doesn’t know what to do or how to react when she stands at Gill’s door like this, admitting she needs something. She knows how to deflect and how to make herself unreadable. How to hide.

When Em had asked her what she was waiting for, she’d lied. She knew exactly what the problem was. Lying to her daughter, it made her heart rise up in her throat. She hated it. But Emily still had so much good in her - living in DC, being raised by two mums. She didn’t think about things the way Cal still did. Gillian married a man. Dated men. It wasn’t that Cal didn’t think she couldn’t also be interested in women, it was just that she’d never seen Gillian with a woman. She thought, sometimes, that there was a chance. She’d heard a joke about college experimentation once. This was different, though, and she knew it was different, and she couldn’t trust herself around Gill, not enough to be absolutely certain she wasn’t projecting something.

By the time she’s knocked and she can hear Gillian’s footsteps, she’s realizing she’s made a mistake. Gill is mourning. Now’s not the time. Em brought up a good point, but Cal should be waiting. She shouldn’t be here now.

Then Gillian opens the door, and she’s standing there with the light behind her, and it’s making the little frizzy hairs sticking out of her bun sort of glow, and she’s in a cardigan and her pajama bottoms and she looks beautiful. Just drop dead gorgeous. And her eyes aren’t still red.

Cal forgets to speak.

“Cal?” Gillian prompts. It’s the tone of voice that means ‘what the fuck are you doing here, it’s the middle of the bloody night,’ only in Gillian speak. Cal swallows.

“Right. Hello. Sorry, love. I, ah… I just wanted to check up on you. You alright?”

Gillian blinks at her, and tilts her head. “I think you probably know that I’m not. No matter how much trouble you might say you have reading me. But I’m not… You didn’t have to come all the way out here, Cal. Not while Emily’s home.”

“Well. She’s, ah. She’s gone to bed. So I just through I’d come and say hello again. I know I didn’t run off this time, I know we had a talk and everything, but I just…” Cal bites her lip. Gillian’s right here, in front of her. That shouldn’t feel so strange when it happens every day, but she knows that both of them can at least feel that this is a vulnerable moment if nothing else. She steps inside the door, just inside, closer to Gillian. Almost close enough to feel the heat she seems to generate. “I just can’t get it out of my head. Seeing you in that hallway. Covered in blood. I was… Jesus, love. I was terrified. You called me in a panic and I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure yet that you weren’t hurt.” This is more vulnerable than she was prepared to be, but things are spilling out now before she can stop them. “You’re… you’re one thing I’m not prepared to lose, darling. You and Em. I can’t… that can’t happen.”

Cal realizes she hasn’t been making eye contact. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, and she shakes them out a bit and looks up at Gillian’s face. It’s soft. Touched. There’s a sudden ache somewhere to the left of Cal’s heart, and for just a second she thinks she might be having a heart attack, but no. No. That’s just what Gill does to her.

“Thank you. For telling me that. That… means a lot.”

This is the problem with both of them. Cal can’t say a damn thing to her, because she’s so terrified of giving herself away, so when she does say anything, Gillian goes into shrink mode to be sensitive with her to encourage her emotional vulnerability. She’s fucked up in plenty of ways, but the way she is around Gillian isn’t just abuse and trauma and the things she’s seen. It’s also just fear. Fear of all the ways she’ll fuck it up, like she always bloody does, fear of all the ways Gillian could gently let her down.

“Yeah, I…” Cal wants to say more, but it’s not right. Not now. Still not now. She chokes it back down and swallows again. She steps back, down off the doorstep. “I shouldn’t have come all the way out here tonight. Sorry. You were right. I’m not… This isn’t… You need your rest, love, yeah? Especially right now.” Cal runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back off her forehead where it’s flopped down a bit, and she starts to turn away.

Gillian stops her just with her voice. “I wasn’t really planning to sleep. Not tonight. At least not on purpose. In this one case it’s… too personal. I’ve seen a lot of things but this was…  I don’t want to fall asleep.”

Cal turns back to look at her, and sees the vulnerability in her expression, too, and walks back over and steps inside. She pulls Gillian into her arms, and that part’s easy. This is something they both still know how to do, how to hold each other, be the one thing keeping the other one together.

When she pulls back, Gillian’s looking up at her, and it feels dangerous. Wallowski went on a date. They’re not together anymore. Cal still feels suddenly like she should tie up all the loose ends. Do something else. She pushes Gillian’s hair behind her ear, where some’s come loose. Then, she steps past her just a bit and turns. “Should I come inside for a bit then? We can watch something on the telly. Just pass the time. I’ll text Em in case she wakes up. I can keep you company.”

Gill nods at her, and Cal goes in and straight towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea, shall I?”

“Cal that’s at least the fourth warm drink you’ve made me today.”

“Still take an ungodly amount of sugar?”

She can practically hear the fond smile in Foster’s sigh as she walks away, so she goes about pulling down the mugs, getting the kettle started. Once everything’s set up, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. She does text Emily, hoping it won’t wake her up, and then she sends a text to Wallowski. “Was your date good enough that if things between us are over you won’t hold it against me?”

The kettle’s not boiled, but she knows she’s probably only got about five minutes between that and the time for the tea to steep, and she’d really like to get a response before she goes into the sitting room. She waits and taps her fingers against the counter. It’s cold, and her finger bounces back a little with each tap. Just as she knows the tea is starting to get a bit strong, her phone vibrates, and she jumps. Thank Christ Gillian wasn’t there to see that.

The text is from Wallowski. “Go get her, idiot.”

Concise. Comforting. Cal knew there was a reason she liked her. Never as much as Gillian. Nowhere close. But there had been something about her.

Cal takes out the tea bags before the tea’s completely ruined, and leaves her own black and puts far too much sugar and milk in Gill’s. She carries both mugs to the sofa and gives a light pink mug to Gil with a slight flourish and a bow. “Your awful tea.”

Gill smiles at her, and Cal sits down and puts an arm around her. Her mug is in her free hand. This still feels natural, too. Not dangerous yet. The danger is still, though, in the fact that she came here at all. That she said what she did to Emily. Said it out loud. That she’s officially broken it off with Wallowski. She’s here for a dangerous reason, and it’s nagging at the back of her skull every time she thinks she can forget it. Gillian trusts her, trusts her enough to let her close and be affectionate with her and use her for comfort. The reason she’s here feels like an abuse of that trust. Cal takes her arm back and puts it by her own side, then switches the hand her mug is in so she won’t be tempted.

To her surprise, Gill turns to look at her. Cal gives her an apologetic smile. “Just getting a bit warm. Sorry, love.”

Though the look she gets is skeptical, Gill still nods. Then she smiles. “You could always borrow something from me. Change out of that sweater you’re always wearing.”

“I’ll just push up the sleeves, I’ll be fine.” Cal puts the mug down on the table in front of them and does just that, then puts her arm back around Gillian. “See?” Gill scoffs, and Cal moves her arm again, turning to look at her face on. “What?”

“I have pajamas. Especially if you’re gonna spend the night, you don’t have to sit around in all that.”

“Me? In your pajamas? Gillian, please, I’d look like a tit.”

Gillian laughs, and Cal can’t help but smile back at her.

“You could just borrow a t-shirt at least. Not everything I own is that feminine, Cal.”

“You put me in a nightgown and I’m leaving.”

As Gill stands up, Cal follows her, and they go right back to her bedroom. She watches Gill shift through closet and drawers, but mostly just gets overwhelmed by how much everything looks soft and smells like Gillian. Then there’s a blue t-shirt being shoved at her.

It’s a little bit light blue for her tastes, but she still smirks a bit. “Alright, fine. But what am I meant to wear for bottoms?”

“I don’t have anything you won’t object to, you’ll just have to stick with your boxers.”

“Who told you I wear boxers?”

“You did, Cal.”

She shrugs, and grins. “Right, well. They’re comfortable. Fine, then. I’ll go and change.” Cal starts towards the bathroom, then sticks her head back out around the doorframe. “Can’t believe you’re telling me I ought to sleep in your house in my underwear. That’s scandalous, that is. Could start a rumor at the office like that.”

Gill just sighs at her, but she can’t hide the smile around the corners of her mouth - she couldn’t even hide it from someone else, right now. “I’ll see you back in the living room, Cal.”

Cal changes there in the bathroom. Down to just her boxers, bra, and a t-shirt, she truly does feel vulnerable. Comparatively comfortable though her sports bra may be, she’d normally take it off to sleep or relax, but she doesn’t trust herself enough. Not right now. Still, she folds up the rest of her clothes and puts her belt on top and walks back out to the sitting room, putting the pile of clothes down next to the couch. She sits down, and she puts her arm back around Gill.

“There. All better.”

It’s not better. It’s much worse. Gillian’s taken the time while Cal was in the bathroom to take off her sweater, and her socked feet and her legs are curled up beside her on the couch, and her short sleeved sleep shirt means that Cal’s fingertips are just brushing the skin right below her sleeve. It’s probably what hell is like, but frankly it’s a hell Cal would sign up for a thousand more times.

She watches Gillian finish her tea, and there’s something on the telly but she’s not looking at it. She can’t, just yet. She can’t take her eyes off of Gill. Maybe there’s something to what she actually said when she showed up. Well. Of course there was. It was true. But maybe she needed just this more than she realized. She’d gotten so caught up in fighting for Foster, fighting that two-bit prick, that she’d forgotten herself. Another one of her many bad habits. Seeing Gill in a hallway, totally vulnerable, in shock, covered in blood. It shook her. The idea of something happening to her before Cal ever said anything, before she ever even tried. It was awful.

Cal shakes herself from her thoughts, pushes Gill’s hair back behind her ear again, turns to the telly. She sees her tea on the coffee table, and she knows it’s gone cold by now, but she doesn’t care.

After a moment, after she’s at least managed to pretend to focus on whatever late night channel Gillian has on, she can feel eyes on the side of her face. She doesn’t look over.

“Cal.”

“Mm?”

“Why did you really come here tonight?”

Cal swallows, and shakes her head. She’s still looking at the screen. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, love.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want the answer.”

She finally turns her head, and Gillian’s face is far too close. This isn’t jokey flirting in her office with Loker right there watching. This isn’t a momentary tease. This is for just the two of them. Cal shifts back a bit, and looks her in the eyes. The arm that was around Gill comes up next to her, and she uses her fist and elbow to prop her head up against to the back of the couch.

“I really don’t think it’s the time for this.”

Every statement gives her away. Everything is incriminating. But she won’t outright lie when they’re both feeling so unsteady, and she can’t be honest.

“When is the time, Cal?”

She shakes her head. “Not right now, Gill. I came over because I… I had a talk with Emily, and I decided to come over. But it’s not the night, yeah? You’re still… We’re both still in a mess. It’s not a time for a serious talk.”

“Is it ever the time for a serious talk with you?”

Cal grits her teeth, just for a moment. “You don’t get to say that. Not right now, not when I said what I did when I showed up here.”

Foster sighs, but for once Cal knows she’s right. “Yes, fine, that’s… You’re right, Cal. That isn’t fair. But I just… I feel like you’re never being completely honest with me.”

They’re dancing around the edge of something, but Cal still isn’t sure that Gillian knows just what that something is. “I am honest with you. Almost more than anyone. You know that, Gill.”

They make eye contact again, and this time it lasts for a long moment. Gillian nods. “Right. I know that. But I still like to know you’re not hiding something. At least not something important.”

Cal licks her lips and glances at the back of the couch, right next to her. “Yeah. Well. There are things we don’t say, aren’t there? There are lines.”

“Cal, for god’s sake. We got rid of the damn line a long time ago.”

She knows that Gillian’s right. The lines are gone. “You mean I did.”

Gill laughs half-heartedly. “With the things I said about Wallowski? I have, too.” Cal watches her shake her head. “And I should… apologize for that. I’m not happy that you called her for this, but it’s… It’s good that you’re happy. At least she’s not toying with you. And you deserve something steady.”

Cal starts shaking her head while Gill’s still talking. “Don’t… That’s all over and done with. You don’t have to apologize for any of that.”

“Since when?”

“Well she went on a date, didn’t she?” The line doesn’t even feel genuine in her mouth. She sighs, and drops her head forward. “Fine, alright. Since… I broke it off. Didn’t want to do it anymore. There’s nothing between me and Wallowski, nothing between me and anybody. There’s just… me.”

Gill’s staring now. “And when did this happen? During the case?”

“You want the truth on this one, too?” Gill nods, and Cal winces. “When I was making tea in the kitchen, just now.”

Gill frowns, and her brow furrows. “You broke up with Wallowski in my kitchen?”

“Just… checking it was over. There’s no hard feelings. It was already done.”

“Why?”

“We’re getting back to that thing you don’t want to hear, love.”

Gillian shakes her head again. “I don’t have any idea what it is, Cal. I don’t know why you seem to think I do.”

“You really don’t know?”

Another shake of her head.

Cal sighs, and pushes her own hair back again, but the little bits at the front just flop back over her forehead, and she feels like a mess. “I’m… I came here tonight, because… Em asked me, after I got home tonight, after everything else I’d been through… She asked me. About you. But specifically how I… felt. About you. And this… I know this is something we’ve joked about for years, Gill, but it’s not… It’s not a joke for me. I’m not certain it was ever a joke for me.”

“What’s not a joke for you?”

Cal still doesn’t look at her. “I love you, Gill. I’m… I’m in love… with you. And now’s not the time, and it’s a shit night for both of us, but Emily asked me tonight why I’d never done anything and I was at your door before I’d had time to think about it.”

There’s a long pause, and Cal finally looks up, and she can’t read anything but confusion on Gillian’s face. “Cal. What? I… I’m nothing like the women you date.”

She laughs, and she knows Gill can hear there’s no humor in it. “Well that’s the bloody point, isn’t it? They’re nothing like you because you’re you. They’d date me. They’re attracted to me. Of course they’re nothing like you. You don’t date women, let alone women who… who drink too much and gamble and wear fucking boxers. And that’s the mildest list of reasons I’ve got, love.”

“I didn’t know it wasn’t a joke to you.” That stings her, more than Cal would care to admit. She has to look away again. “It’s fun, it’s always been fun, but with the way you’ve dated and gone around over the years, and the way you flirted… I didn’t know it was serious. I wasn’t sure you could be serious, about… Anyone but Zoe.”

Cal can feel the bile churning in her stomach. She shakes her head and goes to stand up. “I think I’d like to go ahead and go to bed, love.”

“Cal.”

She’s stopped in her tracks, and she realizes it’s Gill’s hand around her wrist that’s done it.

“Don’t walk away. Not right now.”

Following direction, although she doesn’t know why, she practically falls back onto the couch, and she looks at Gill with what she knows is full brunt of the ache she’s feeling.

Gillian’s touch is warm on her face, and she closes her eyes.

“I’m not you, Cal. I can’t read you the way you can read me.”

She turns her face into Gill’s hand, glad for the sign she hasn’t ruined it all. “I’ve told you, I can’t read you either. You can read just as well as I can for anyone else, you know that. But for you, I’m… I always thought I was putting too much on you. Reading things that weren’t there. That night you got drunk on my scotch and told me to say thank you, I…”

“I… wanted you to kiss me.”

Cal opens her eyes. There’s another hand, on the side of her neck now, and she shivers. “Yeah?”

“Just because I thought you were joking didn’t mean that I wasn’t… falling for the joke. Every time I’ve ever pulled away when I shouldn’t have… I thought I was protecting myself.”

“From me?”

Gill shrugs, and Cal places her hands at Gill’s waist.

“I don’t want to hurt you, love. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to help it.”

Cal opens her mouth to say something, then shakes her head and starts again. “I suppose we’re both a bit bad about that. Between who we are, and the job we do… maybe it isn’t always possible to avoid. But I can try and get better. We can make new rules, and try our best not to break them, and be honest when we do.” It’s the kind of promise she’d only make for Gillian. “I don’t want to fuck this up, love.”

Instead of responding, Gillian leans close, and there’s a press of lips against her forehead. Cal grins, and pulls back enough to look up at her.

“You could at least give me a proper kiss, darling.”

“I could, could I?”

Gillian smiles at her, and it’s dazzling. Then their lips are pressed together, and they’re kissing. It’s not one of those god awful quick little platonic pecks, either, that they’ve peppered across their friendship. This kiss is proper. Lingering. Their lips shift against each other, damp, and Gillian breathes out into the kiss and Cal takes the opportunity to bite gently at her lower lip. When they both pull back, Gill is blushing a bit, and Cal can feel warmth at the tips of her ears.

“You still gonna make me sleep in the guest bedroom?” Cal asks teasingly.

Gill gives her a look even as she gently brushes a hand over Cal’s hair. “Before you even take me out for dinner?”

“Oh come on, no funny business. I’m gonna make an honest woman out of you. You deserve to be wined and dined.”

“Hmm.” She watches as Gillian glances at the telly and then turns back to her. “We’ll see.”

Cal puts her arm back around Gill, and this time Gill leans into her properly, head against her chest, and maybe they’ll fall asleep that way, and maybe they’ll move to a bedroom, and maybe Gill will shoo her off to the guest room after all. Whatever happens now, it’s alright.

[rebeccahpedersen]

Why Don’t People Want To Move?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Well, my mother enjoyed Friday’s blog, and that’s all that really matters, right?

Lost in the shuffle after an impromptu 2,000 word trip down memory lane were the reasons behind this recent survey, showing more home-owners would opt to stay put and renovate their existing homes than move.

The survey was posed in this hypothetical “What if you had $50,000,” manner, whereby respondents were supposed to choose between renting and moving.  But ignoring that hypothetical, and simply looking at the decision as it pertains to all of us, our lives, and our situations, I would still argue that just as many people would rather do without moving.

I see five major reasons for this, many of which have multiple reasons therein…

5) The Neighbourhood

There’s nothing wrong with loving where you live, in fact, it’s a dream for all of us.

So when faced with the prospect of leaving all that you know and love, it seems to reason that many people would look for ways to avoid it.

This means that when many people do end up moving, many of them stay within the same area.  I actually sold a $970,000 condo to a buyer last week who currently lives in the building in a smaller place worth about $550,000.  He loves the building, doesn’t really want to leave, but needs more space.  So buying a larger place but only considering that one building became his chosen path.

For other would-be buyers, however, not being able to move within that same area is often a reason why they stay put.  If you owned a 3-bed, 2-bath semi-detached house, but wanted a 4-bed, 4-bath, or at least a 4-bed, 3-bath, and were constrained by price, you might end up looking in another neighbourhood with lower prices.  We’ve all been here before, and this is a very common scenario for most buyers.  You can’t afford to move “up” within your area, so you look at other locations.  When faced with this prospect, many buyers just can’t pull the trigger because they can’t face moving out of the neighbourhood.  And thus, they renovate, expand/add-on, or simply put off the move for a little while longer.

I’ve seen this happen a lot.

When I’m working with active buyers who essentially “change their mind,” and decide to put the search on hold, one of the top reasons is because they can’t bear the idea of leaving the neighbourhood.  So as I mentioned above, many decide that their plan is to stay, save more money, and then be able to purchase a larger home within that same area.

As housing prices continue to rise, however, we all know it’s difficult to “chase the market.”  Saving more money for a down payment on a larger home only works if the market stays the same, or appreciates at a rate substantially lower than one’s ability to save.  This is why I find so many people who don’t move, initially, because they “want to stay in the neighbourhood” end up becoming stuck in their existing home.

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4) The Kids

You all heard my sob-story from Friday about how I didn’t want to move, but what I didn’t mention was that as a child, I was paralyzed with the fear of switching schools.

We grew up in Leaside, and I attended Bessborough Public School right from Junior Kindergarten.  But I knew that when my mother and father were out looking at houses on the weekend, half the time they were looking in other areas.

I had no idea where “Lawrence Park” was, but I knew I didn’t want to live there.

Avenue Road?  Is it an avenue or a road?  That made no sense to me.  I certainly didn’t want to live there.

Bayview Heights?  Where the hell was that?

North Toronto?  How far north are we talking?

My sister explained to me that if we lived in any of these areas, we would have to go to a different school.  This scared me more than just about anything as a child, and that includes Freddy Krueger, who was just about the worst-looking, scariest thing I had ever seen, and maybe still have to this day.  The makeup for that movie, considering it was 1984, is just unreal.  But that’s a topic for another day…

As any child would at this age, I had developed a close circle of friends, and the thought of not only losing those friends, but also having to make new ones, was a non-starter for me.  I didn’t want to be “the new kid” that shows up on September 5th, and is introduced by the teacher who basically begs the other children to befriend.

A lot has changed since the 80’s, and nowadays with technology where it is, social media, and a lot more clubs, sports, and activities, kids from all over the city blend together in a way they never did before.  But I still think a lot of parents worry about pulling their kids out of existing schools, and planting them in new ones.

Many parents will actually plan their moves around their kids’ ages, and/or school cycles.

I’ve had clients who told me, “We’re going to buy a house in two years because our son will be turning 6-years-old, and we want to start him in School X for Grade 1,” as well as other variations surrounding different public/private school options, or special programs like French Immersion, or simply leaving daycare for JK, or graduating from Grade 8 to high school.

But others simply refuse to move because they fear it’ll be traumatic for the kids, whether that’s based on the school, or in some cases, emotional attachment to the home.

I suffered from both as a child, but thankfully when we moved, I stayed in the same school!

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3) The “Lateral” Move

You don’t sell for $1,000,000 and buy for $1,000,000 in this market very often.

If you lived in a condo, and wanted to own a house, you might though.  And I’m sure there are other exceptions to the rule.

I suppose if you live in a downtown Toronto condo, worth $600,000, and you’re moving to Hamilton to start your new job, get married, start a family, and prices for freehold homes are $600,00, then yes, the lateral move makes sense.

But here in Toronto, most of my clients are either buying up or down, and the “lateral move” is a fear of many buyers, and probably should be.

For reasons that we’ll explore in point #1, it’s expensive to move, and to buy and sell for around the same price often doesn’t make sense.

Switching neighbourhoods around the same price point can be an option, but it really just comes down to the costs involved, and I feel as though most buyers want to truly “buy bigger.”

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2) The Bother

As I write this, I have not one, but two sets of clients who have moved in with their parents for two weeks.  I have another couple of sellers who are also leaving while their property is being sold, but they’re sailing around the world, so we don’t feel quite as bad for them!

My other seller-clients have been displaced from their homes as it’s simply not feasible for them to sell why they’re living in the house.

In the house.  In their house; it’s not feasible for them to live in their house.  How crazy is that?

Well, that’s Toronto!  That’s the market!  You’ve heard me say this over and over, but I believe there is only one “right way” to sell real estate, and it involves doing everything properly before and during the listing, cutting no corners, and not diverting from the path that’s been set out in advance.  This means, for those that choose to do it properly, that you’ve got anywhere from two weeks to two months of preparing, and it can be awful.

You start by de-cluttering, and that means throwing away stuff you probably want to keep, and/or often going through boxes you have no desire to go through.  You often work around the clock, with a deadline (ie. a target listing date), and every night you go home from work knowing that you’re simply switching jobs, as the work doesn’t stop until you finish packing, and go to bed.

You have to work on the house too.  Repairs, fixes, often renovations.  I have clients right now who are going to replace all the flooring in their condo, renovate the bathroom, paint the entire place, and maybe even tackle the kitchen cabinets while they’re at it.  They’ve told me they’re stressed, anxious, and wondering whether this is “the right move.”

But then when the property is actually cleaned, painted, repaired, and de-cluttered, the staging begins, and many people can’t live in a staged house.  Especially those with kids…

Most of my clients who have children end up moving out for 10-14 days when we sell, provided the house is freehold and in at least a lukewarm location.

If we stage the house on a Thursday, take photos on Friday, to list on Monday, that family isn’t going to live in the house on the weekend.  They’re already up at the in-laws!  So then we have a week of showings, followed by an offer night, and it’s close to two weeks before they can move back into the house.

Add all this up – packing, de-cluttering, repairing/renovating, cleaning, moving furniture and boxes to storage, staging, and finally moving out of the house, and it’s no wonder many people couldn’t be “bothered” with the process.  It’s daunting to many, although those of you who have been through it probably think it’s just the cost of doing business.

Then there’s something to be said for the “bother” of trying to essentially re-create one’s existing home, in a different location.  Those of us who take pride in our homes, and who have worked over the years to make it our “own,” often see a new house as a stark blank canvas, and thus a chore.  Some relish the opportunity to start from scratch, but others see it as a lengthy task that they could do without.  Imagine spending five years “feathering the nest,” only to have to start over elsewhere?

To each, their own.  Some might see this as complaining about nothing, but the feedback I get from people all the time is that moving is daunting, and much of it has to do with the process of selling, rather than buying.

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1) The Cost

There’s absolutely, positively, no doubting that this is the #1 reason why people don’t move…

…in Toronto, that is.

Tell me if I’m wrong, and I feel as though this could be one of those blog posts where the readers’ comments really drive home the accuracy of this list, but I have to think that if it wasn’t so expensive to move, people would do it more often.

Some see real estate as an “investment” and others are irked by that mere notion; thinking somehow that houses should be exempt from being bought/sold/traded and rather simply house people.  But for those who find themselves in the former camp, they’ll recognize that real estate as an investment has one major difference from your typical investment vehicles out there today: liquidity.

That’s not to say that real estate isn’t easily sold.  It’s a far more liquid investment than art, rare coins, or precious metals (ie. those who actually take physical possession of gold bars; I had a client once with all his money in physical materials, it was nuts).  But the time it takes to dispose of real estate is an eternity compared to the “click of a button” for selling shares of stock.

Then, there’s the cost.  That’s the major issue with liquidity, from my perspective.

And the costs associated with selling real estate might be the elephant in the room for most agents, but I tell my clients this all the time!

Land transfer tax, real estate listing fees, legal fees, movers, and then the things people don’t think about – like furnishing a new house, and all that comes with it.

Those of us in Toronto pay not one, but two land transfer taxes, to the wonderful municipality of Toronto, and province of Ontario.

On a $1,500,000 purchase, that’s $52,950 that you are never going to get back.

Now let’s say you’re selling a $700,000 condo as you prepare to move into that $1.5 Million house.  The fees are anywhere up to 6%, or $42,000.  But add in HST, and it’s even worse – $47,460.

There are other options, of course.  It costs $0.00 to put a “FOR SALE” sign on your lawn, so while the land transfer tax to Toronto and Ontario are non-negotiable, the real estate listing fees aren’t fixed.

I won’t turn this into a conversation about commission but suffice it to say, most people are paying 4-5% to sell, and that’s a big number if you’re going to buy/sell again in three years, then five years after that.

It’s why I tell a lot of my clients, “It’s expensive to move.” I do it all the time, just ask them.  “You don’t want to call me in two years, tell me you’ve outgrown the space, and have to pay me again to sell your place, and then pay two governments massive fees just to file paperwork.”

You’re going to pay a lawyer to close the sale of your existing property as well as the purchase of the new one.  Disbursements, title insurance, and other fees add up.

But what really surprises me is how much people underestimate the cost of new furnishings in the home.  How many of you have moved into a new house or condo and been blinded by light, because you had no window treatments, and never thought to get any?  How many people actually factor this in to their number-crunching when they start considering making a move?

And that couch in the living room of your condo?  You are kidding yourself if you think it’s going in your new house.

The IKEA pots and pans scream “bachelor,” and now you’re a married man in a home.  So get ready to spend!

In fact, the most common dollar figure that buyers attribute to these types of expenses is $0.  Honestly, people never think of it until they’ve already bought, already sold, and are preparing to move into the new property.  Only then do they look around at their existing furniture and realize how much they hate it.  Only then do they find themselves out, every weekend, shopping up at Castlefield & Dufferin.

This certainly isn’t the largest cost associated with moving, but it’s the most underestimated!

In the end, I think the costs involved with moving are the number-one reason why more people don’t.

–

So there you have it, folks!

If there are other reasons, please feel free to share.

And for those of you that want, or wanted to move, but did not, I’d love to hear why!

The post Why Don’t People Want To Move? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

Originated from https://ift.tt/2OCx8N5

[taxicabmag]

A Story by Drew Pisarra

Arctic Chill

I may not look it right now but I feel really sexy. And whenever I feel sexy I think about sex. And whenever I think about sex, I think about my body. I just want to touch it. Or better yet, I want somebody else to touch it. But no one’s around at the moment so I’m going to think about something else. Let me see… Grandma, grandma, grandma. You know, sometimes it helps to think about old people to get your mind off of sex.

When I was in fourth grade I woke up one morning to discover my body was covered with bug bites. My arms. My legs. My belly. My chest. My butt. My back. The works. Seventy-two bug bites in all. I counted them. Afterwards I ran into the bathroom. “Mommy. Mommy,” I said proudly, “I think I slept with a chigger.” Mommy went to work but dropped me off on the way. That day, I ended up being the first boy with chicken pox at Pine Crest Elementary. After that, it’s all pretty much a blur. I cried to the song “Wildfire” when I it came on the radio and tried not to scratch or pick at the sores and the scabs while I sobbed. I was told not to touch my body or I would scar. So I shivered and sweated and stayed very, very still. It was truly awful.

Now when I think back to that little body, I feel… a sense of wonder? A little bit, I suppose. I don’t think about sex. That’s for sure. Do people think about sex in fourth grade? If I did, I thought very little. I was a late bloomer. Sex was an abstract concept for me for an inordinately long period of time. Nothing led to it for my teenage self. Not touching. Not kissing. Both of which I did with girls for years with no deep meaning. It was nice, yes, but not very unexciting. The first guy I kissed didn’t come until college—a dumb guy named Ken St. John, who was a lousy kisser with really thick, hairy legs. Whatever. His lousy kisses landed me in the college infirmary with mononucleosis. God, that was awful, too. Just thinking about it, I can feel the piss-proof plastic-wrapped mattress under my bare ass. Where was the bottom sheet I wonder. I was so weak I couldn’t read. So weary I couldn’t bear the TV. I sat up, bored, defiantly naked, and flipped through the latest issue of a magazine as if it were a picture book. What was it? People? Time? It wasn’t Life. Life was dead. At some point, I came across a creepy diagram illustrating the symptoms associated with a mysterious disease quite like my own but deadly. No test. No cure. Not then. You see, it was new. It was news.

When you’re sick, everything feels like a harbinger of doom so I asked the day nurse whether what I had could be what was on that glossy page. She looked at me as if I were crazy. But later, at shift change, I overheard her in the hall, telling the night nurse that in her twenty years of nursing—a lifetime to me—she’d never seen glands as swollen as mine. I let it pass. I got better. I moved on.

To New Orleans, in fact. There, I “came out” as a gift to my step-dad on Father’s Day. True story. I was hoping he’d reject me. But against the odds, he did not. Instead, he flew down the following weekend and told me I was loved, even if I were gay, even if being gay were kind of like being dead, even if it meant he had to get to know this new person who had taken the place of the son he’d loved who’d died,. That kind of thing. A real tough love, if you catch my drift. I appreciated the gesture. I smiled, said I understood what he meant, even though it hurt to hear it. We hugged when he left. Before he left, we got drunk. More than once. We bonded. What else was I to do?

Shortly after he jetted back home, I developed a polyp on the back of my throat. It looked like a mini-punching bag flapping back and forth whenever I breathed. I went to the ER where the doctor took one look and asked me if I were gay. Just like that. I was sent to an in-house clinic where a second doctor dismissed the initial diagnosis, gave me a pill, and sent me on my way. The next day the polyp was gone. I was fine.

I don’t know what came next. My best friend caught it. A neighbor’s brother had it. That French guy with the cock ring told me he was in remission – although he didn’t share that until after the act. One time, a woman at a gay pride parade came up to me and asked if I had it and told me how I could get free food. It was tempting. I was poor and thin. That was the same parade where a lady photographer told me I was beautiful from the nose up, but from the nose down, not so much. 1988 was a weird year.

It wasn’t until 1995 on the very first National HIV Testing Day (yes, there really is such a thing) that I took the damned test. I was living in Baltimore then. Believe it or not, there was a whole politics around that, too. The test, not the city. Like somehow finding out the results was necessary and a betrayal at the same time. You were supposed to not feel that bad if you got it and suffer from survivor’s guilt if you had not. They tried to make positive positive and negative negative as a way to eliminate any stigma. I still don’t quite understand all the nuances. What I do recall is running down the steps of the Chase Brexton clinic and dry heaving into the street with relief. Who knew you could vomit air? There was nothing there. It was, looking back, an empty moment.

I wanted to get away from it all. In an extreme way. As luck would have it, a guy I’d recently slept with had just gotten his pilot license. You sometimes learn such things during post-coital bliss. I rang him up and told him I wanted to go for a ride in the sky. He said, “Fine.” So we met at Wicomico Regional Airport where a plane was rolled out of the hangar. It was one of those old fashioned planes, with two sets of wings, a propeller, an open cockpit, and an open passenger seat behind that for me. It wasn’t exactly what I’d expected but I climbed in. The sound was deafening during take off. Shortly after that, he mouthed over his shoulder “Where to?”

“North,” I replied and pointed. North sounded good to me. He agreed. So we flew in a Northwesterly fashion up over Maryland then into Pennsylvania at which point, he turned and looked over his shoulder again, mouthing something I couldn’t figure out for the life of me but to which I shook my head and pointed north again. And so we continued, over the Canadian border despite all laws, and then on over Ontario, which is surprisingly big and bland. Eventually, there was nothing below but snow, nothing but white, nothing but nothing, until the plane’s compass was spinning like time gone wild. Feeling like a total rebel, I suddenly stood up in the back of the plane and started taking off my clothes. Everything felt too confining. So I took off my hat, unraveled my scarf and let it fly, pulled off my gloves finger by finger by finger by finger by thumb. I ripped off my coat. I stripped off my shirt. I slipped out of my t-shirt. I even started to unbuckle my pants but before I could get the belt undone the wind rushed at me, lifted me up by the armpits and… It wasn’t a wholly unpleasant feeling, this feeling of flying, of falling. I confess there was a moment of panic. How. The. Fuck. Was. I. Going. To. Land.

But I ended up grazing against this glacier and then just sliding down with nary a bump until I came to a complete halt. You’d think I’d feel relief. But my hips hurt and my elbow ached. Not 100 yards away, I saw this fairly large house. Not an igloo. A colonial of modest proportions as if it had been picked up by a tornado in Oz then dropped in the middle of nowhere. I may have been trying to get away from civilization but I was still glad to see it return. I walked the hundred yards or so to the front door and rang the doorbell. A little old lady appeared. I knew who she was in a second.

“Mrs. Claus,” I said. “I didn’t know you were alive. I didn’t even know you were real. I haven’t received a gift from or you or your husband in years.” She just smiled in that knowing way some old people have, her eyes twinkling, crinkling, then turned and hobbled back to the main room. I followed. “Child,” she said. Her voice was very pert I remember. “Child. Why not make do with some mistletoe.” Then she left. I didn’t know what she was getting at. I took a seat in the Lazyboy near the fire and began to thaw. Mrs. Claus returned from the kitchen with a silver tray laden with two steaming mugs of hotcocoa and a plate full of cookies. We ate and drank to the sound of Santa I suppose snoring in the room next door. When I’d finished the last of my cup I sensed it was time to leave. Mrs. Claus said Blitzen would take me home. Her final words to me, her voice still gay in the old sense of the word, “Dear… dear,” she said, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my work with my husband it’s the importance of presence.”

That was it. Cryptic to the very end! After all, what the hell did she mean? Where were my presents? Why hadn’t she asked me to spend the night? If there’s one thing that’s exasperating, it’s worldly wisdom from people who don’t even know you, especially old people. I mean, who was she to dole out advice? What did she know about my life? What did she understand about my fears? What did she think she knew about what had brought me there that night, about what I had been through? What did she know, an old lady living in the North Pole, off the grid, off the map…what did she know about what had transpired, what was to come, or even what was happening to me right then and there, in mid-air, flying in the dark on a deer bound for home? I’m still not sure, but God, I could sure use another cup of her hot cocoa today. That drink was totally spiked! I guess for now I’ll have another cocktail.

Drew Pisarra worked in the digital sphere creating and helping to guide online content on behalf of such iconic shows as Mad Men, The Walking Dead, and Breaking Bad. His work has been produced off-off-Broadway and appeared in Poydras Review, Plazm, and St. Petersburg Review among other publications. Publick Spanking, a collection of his fiction, was published by Future Tense.

Pictured: While the Jacaranda was blooming and crows were following me, Oil on board, 2016. By John Collins, Taxicab Magazine’s Virtual Artist-in-Residence.

[xxbalamazxx]

Downfall Of Democracy In The West

I have said it for years now, the writing has been on the wall. Democracy is crumbling around us all. It is shattering into grains smaller than that of sand. Yet the people seem to be ok with it, blinded by their rage, their misunderstanding. Popularism seems to be the new trend, it seems to be the core of what society wants. Popularism, however, is not a system of governance. Rather it is a mere opinion or feeling, a social condemnation for anything shunned, it doesn't matter if it is right or wrong... It is easily manipulated and worse than mob rule… It is the voice of celebrity and notoriety seekers over the want and demand of the masses. It holds no gain other than that of the select few…. Often leading the suppression of one's rights for the obtaining of personal wealth…

Democracy is failing my friends, it is crumbling unto dust. For the first time, we see the vote of people being undone. The rights to privacy, the freedom of speech, the will of the people being abridged. Not to any measurement of justice, nor any measurement of will, rather for the select power acquisition of a few celebrities or corporate powers… It is crushing what once made the west great. is obliterating our system of law. Each generation has its battle, ours has been masked from us. It has been confused with civil movements, and seeking more “Rights” for the few whiles ripping them from others… While in the dark the powers that be move against us… Its time to wake the hell up. How is this occurring?? What is going on? It is simple, democracy is being subverted, the vote of the people is being overturned and not just in one country either.

Step 1: In the United States, a president comes into power, he takes his oath and is sworn into office. Within moments protest start in the streets. Riots break out all over the USA. The president came to power via the system, yet it was not good enough for the masses. For the first time in the history of the USA social media is used by those whom were denied power to disrupt the rightful process of what should have occurred. It immediately becomes normalized. The rule of law becomes undone. The Media immediately starts to report it as a resistance, encouraging for more to join in. Treason to the president, to the government, openly heralds. Yet how did this occur? I am still scratching my head trying to figure it out. While I did not oppose nor support Donald Trump in the elections (I am an independent). It is clear something is a miss, on both sides… To the left ( The Democrats) we had a woman “ Hillary Clinton” seeking power. Openly she commits over 300,000 acts of treason to the USA. Enough to have had her shot before a firing squad. Yet the FBI covers for her. Witnesses “Mysteriously” hang themselves the night before testifying before Congress. Openly her people call for revolt, open violence against the government as she lost the election. She accuses the system of being corrupt, rigged… Yet the system was good enough to get her bigoted husband Bill Clinton into power… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ULl41fNBLA To the other side, President Donald Trump begins to undo years worth of bills that were put into place to help those whom needed help. Overnight corporate power grows, the richer become richer and the poorer becomes poorer. Each side blames each other… Yet they seem to be working together to divide the population and conquer. After all, all bills that are passed by Trump help the Clinton's, and all actions Hillary openly declares, adds more fuel to trumps fire… One sits in the literal office, while the other controls the nation and its media through popular control... Using social media to challenge every bill the president passes, criticizing his actions until the country is divided… Openly weak, openly fractured to all that dare looks towards it… Over the next term, for the first time, singular un-elected groups have sway over the government, policy and more importantly the people…. Step 2: In the United Kingdom the people go to the vote as the largest exercise of democracy takes place in a referendum to leave or stay in the EU “Brexit”. With in the first few months of the exercise, the Media begins to report that Brexit will fail. They push with all their might to sway the people. For the first time openly the Media in the UK begins to attempt to sway the people in another Popular exercise of control. They parade celebrities on T.V, they condemn anyone that would oppose their view as “insane” “unstable” and “racist”, even in some cases calling for violence… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSBAYP-BKbg Yet as the voting day draws near like the election in the USA something unexpected occurs. Instead of following the popular opinion of celebrities and the press, the people vote to leave the EU. Overnight the news, the media and the government begin to insult and punish the people… For the first time, direct cuts are targeted against the poor in a cruel retaliation. The government attempts to drop benefits on the lowest of the poor that would see them impoverished to destitution. This, however, was blocked by the House of Lords. Yet to subvert even the most basic checks and balances, the government then brings universal credits to implement the cuts. The Bank Of England increase mortgage rates to apply pressure to the Nation. Guilds and Large corporations raise the prices of food and what the people now deemed Project fear begins… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJRQO50VTKU Un Investigates Uk Poverty With already obscenely high taxes, increases in food& basic's pricing. The threat of the loss of jobs and an economy deliberately destabilized by the unhappy elite the government of the united kingdom announces an apocalyptic view of a post Brexit environment. Immediately a repeat of the USA drama plays out on the world stage. To the left the “ Labour” they openly condemn Brexit, demanding a re-vote. ( Similar to Hillary Clinton in the USA election.) They accuse the government of being corrupt tyrannical, all while voting up bills that harm the population. Jeremy Corbin calls for resistance condemning the Tories... Openly a Popular plot is launched. Every attempt to negotiate a deal with Europe is trampled by the Labour Party. They subvert the mass vote by going to the courts, calling on the queen, and even going to the house of lords ( which labor has condemned as being unelected officials each time they don't agree in their favor). In the past two years, the Prime Minster changes hands not once but two times. From David Cameron to Theresa May. From Theresa May to now Boris Johnson. Much like the despicable acts in the USA, each leader is deemed Tyrannical, Racist, bigoted, and downright nasty by the populist elite. They are targeted, discredited and driven from office… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkgWsJPA_B8 Jeremy Corbyn once again tries to change Prime Minister Now three times Democracy has been directly subverted in the courts of the United Kingdom. Each time by a private citizen using the supreme court to overrule actions, suing for openings of parliament. And abusing the democratic process. While I hold no opinion as a Resident of the UK and Not a citizen. The People voted, yet subversion of the vote is blatant. The Entire government works against the will of the people… And I wished, I truly do that it just ended there, but it does not. Step 3: In France, the people riot as their rights are being trampled over. The minimum wage is not enough to live on. Yellowjackets ( workers) take to the streets in protest. In a direct statement of defiance, the government condemns them as unlawful, even terrorist and begin using the military. Chemical weapons are deployed to suppress the movement. In the United Kingdom, the movement spreads and to Holland and Germany, each countries government follows suit… Condemnation erupts, the will of the people is openly oppressed… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aw-9o0GXrns It does not seem to matter where you are in the west at the moment, laws violating privacy have become commonplace, with little retaliation from the population, other than “ If you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear!”. Yet our forefathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and uncles died for that right to privacy… They died for the right to be at peace… Even worse the freedom of speech and that of the press now goes silenced… Due to popularism, social media pressure and a new generation who do not understand the importance of the right to say a word. The freedom of speech is being slowly oppressed. In the United Kingdom and all of the EU you can be arrested for saying the wrong word, and serve years. Even in the USA now due to social media pressure ( Most of it not even being of western descent.) The rights of the singular person are now trampled on for what is often mislead ideals of the larger sum. The mere words uttered of “ That Offends Me” Are grounds to summon the law… This is what our governments have wanted for a while. An excuse to silence all that oppose them. With offense everywhere and arguments such as Corporate rights, company rights, governmental rights. You can be deemed a sense offender at any time… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnIQalprvR8 From fear-mongering & stripping away rights. To open full-blown governmental rebellion, to that of party politics committing both mass conspiracy and downright treason. Democracy is openly and utterly being subverted at its core. Yet the people seemed to be more concerned by who is offending whom. They seem to be more concerned by someone's right to use whatever bathroom they want to, over the rights that will be left for their children and grandchildren. The reality of things is that it's becoming Orwell's 1984. The people ignore the facts, suffering has erupted on a global scale due to the great division of western nations. Children starve, innocent women and men are detained for merely uttering their desires to have what many of us would so easily give up. In just and Inhuman wars are being ignored without western intervention. Yet it is our duty, our mandate to secure and protect the people of all nations. Not just the ones that are white of skin or western in idealism. But all nations in which a people want to be free… Yet the word of a Russian condemning US or EU forces actions is so easily repeated by our children that are already out of control. The violence spreads through our streets as foreign agents subject the minds of our people with dissidents, simply by using an account on Facebook that says Alabama on its location… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QoTHQV0Dts Sinister forces are implementing plans that are dividing the west while the east unifies. During this process of the last four years Russia, China and Iran have formed a coalition that has thrived off western division. Yet internally nothing is done about it, the people forget that it is through the actions of previous generations that we have lived good lives. That it is was through their sacrifice that we obtained wealth. Yet now the people wag their finger at every success the west has had. They trust in foreign conspiracies than the words of our men and women that were there… It is as if they are looking for a reason to betray, any reason what so ever. We simply stare at our phones and condemn anyone that would speak up against it… As if we are already occupied. Dictators have arisen to the world stage, yet the west continues to focus on which is the best YouTuber while Russia veto’s every and all action to help those in need. For anyone who speaks up about this tyranny, Russia needs not do a thing, for it is commonplace for children and Internet trolls to recite law and give up all morality or virtue… Chemical weapons are used on UK soil by Russian agents, that is backed by Dutch chemists who prove the compound. The people scream “ Leave Russia alone” as if they had done nothing wrong, yet victims lay dead. It is as if some mental illness has taken hold. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZf8FwIPAuc Ukraine has an entire province annexed after being threatened by Russia for years. We, their allies abandon them due to the calls of communists in our streets. Russia uses an excuse that there are Russians their so they have the right to take the land by force… Yet in the defense of Ukraine, the law does not apply? Again our people remain silent and do nothing. Three years after Russia uses its hold on the region to choke trade ships and bully the international stage… Russia openly admits to interfering in elections all over the world. It admits to global espionage, yet the modern population sticks its nose up. The only time that matters is when their populist leaders make a point of it. The fact that this level of espionage is back indicating that the west is again on the brink of another cold war… Yet instead of acting, instead of stripping an international threat back down to size… The social influence, the populist elite rather wait until the threat becomes all too real… Until we are again at full-blown war… Because to do nothing today will make them a few more bucks, and it is not their children who will die tomorrow… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHzwMLx-rKc Elected officials in all offices are being run out of power by the minority view votes, well not votes, rather demand made from the sum of losing parties. In the USA the democrats accuse men and women of rape, incest, bigotry and acts of legal violations to grip hold. While in the UK similar processes are occurring. Each is a subversion of the will of the masses. It is as if someone wrote a bad play and we no longer care as we are fixated on celebrities, drama, and perceived special rights for said groups… It is as if not being offensive is more important then protecting our rights and thus protecting our children, our grand children's and their children. For if we are the generation that does nothing… It is us to blame for when they have nothing. How long will this last? How long till we no longer can call ourselves democracies? How long till our old enemies march to our doorstep? How long till we see that the ancient old trick of Divide and conquer is being used upon us today... Rather it is by sinister forces in our governments such as Jeremy Corbin, a known communist, and socialist sympathizer. Or Hillary Clinton who openly committed treason by releasing classified secrets. And perhaps the President of the USA whom is believed to have colluded with Vladimir Putin himself. Or that of foreign powers growing by the day. How long till we wake up? When is it too late to stand up for the rights and ways that our forefathers and mothers fought for? How long till we lose our democracy completely? Will it take another Pearl Harbour for you to finally see? Read the full article

[rebeccahpedersen]

Why Don’t People Want To Move?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Well, my mother enjoyed Friday’s blog, and that’s all that really matters, right?

Lost in the shuffle after an impromptu 2,000 word trip down memory lane were the reasons behind this recent survey, showing more home-owners would opt to stay put and renovate their existing homes than move.

The survey was posed in this hypothetical “What if you had $50,000,” manner, whereby respondents were supposed to choose between renting and moving.  But ignoring that hypothetical, and simply looking at the decision as it pertains to all of us, our lives, and our situations, I would still argue that just as many people would rather do without moving.

I see five major reasons for this, many of which have multiple reasons therein…

5) The Neighbourhood

There’s nothing wrong with loving where you live, in fact, it’s a dream for all of us.

So when faced with the prospect of leaving all that you know and love, it seems to reason that many people would look for ways to avoid it.

This means that when many people do end up moving, many of them stay within the same area.  I actually sold a $970,000 condo to a buyer last week who currently lives in the building in a smaller place worth about $550,000.  He loves the building, doesn’t really want to leave, but needs more space.  So buying a larger place but only considering that one building became his chosen path.

For other would-be buyers, however, not being able to move within that same area is often a reason why they stay put.  If you owned a 3-bed, 2-bath semi-detached house, but wanted a 4-bed, 4-bath, or at least a 4-bed, 3-bath, and were constrained by price, you might end up looking in another neighbourhood with lower prices.  We’ve all been here before, and this is a very common scenario for most buyers.  You can’t afford to move “up” within your area, so you look at other locations.  When faced with this prospect, many buyers just can’t pull the trigger because they can’t face moving out of the neighbourhood.  And thus, they renovate, expand/add-on, or simply put off the move for a little while longer.

I’ve seen this happen a lot.

When I’m working with active buyers who essentially “change their mind,” and decide to put the search on hold, one of the top reasons is because they can’t bear the idea of leaving the neighbourhood.  So as I mentioned above, many decide that their plan is to stay, save more money, and then be able to purchase a larger home within that same area.

As housing prices continue to rise, however, we all know it’s difficult to “chase the market.”  Saving more money for a down payment on a larger home only works if the market stays the same, or appreciates at a rate substantially lower than one’s ability to save.  This is why I find so many people who don’t move, initially, because they “want to stay in the neighbourhood” end up becoming stuck in their existing home.

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4) The Kids

You all heard my sob-story from Friday about how I didn’t want to move, but what I didn’t mention was that as a child, I was paralyzed with the fear of switching schools.

We grew up in Leaside, and I attended Bessborough Public School right from Junior Kindergarten.  But I knew that when my mother and father were out looking at houses on the weekend, half the time they were looking in other areas.

I had no idea where “Lawrence Park” was, but I knew I didn’t want to live there.

Avenue Road?  Is it an avenue or a road?  That made no sense to me.  I certainly didn’t want to live there.

Bayview Heights?  Where the hell was that?

North Toronto?  How far north are we talking?

My sister explained to me that if we lived in any of these areas, we would have to go to a different school.  This scared me more than just about anything as a child, and that includes Freddy Krueger, who was just about the worst-looking, scariest thing I had ever seen, and maybe still have to this day.  The makeup for that movie, considering it was 1984, is just unreal.  But that’s a topic for another day…

As any child would at this age, I had developed a close circle of friends, and the thought of not only losing those friends, but also having to make new ones, was a non-starter for me.  I didn’t want to be “the new kid” that shows up on September 5th, and is introduced by the teacher who basically begs the other children to befriend.

A lot has changed since the 80’s, and nowadays with technology where it is, social media, and a lot more clubs, sports, and activities, kids from all over the city blend together in a way they never did before.  But I still think a lot of parents worry about pulling their kids out of existing schools, and planting them in new ones.

Many parents will actually plan their moves around their kids’ ages, and/or school cycles.

I’ve had clients who told me, “We’re going to buy a house in two years because our son will be turning 6-years-old, and we want to start him in School X for Grade 1,” as well as other variations surrounding different public/private school options, or special programs like French Immersion, or simply leaving daycare for JK, or graduating from Grade 8 to high school.

But others simply refuse to move because they fear it’ll be traumatic for the kids, whether that’s based on the school, or in some cases, emotional attachment to the home.

I suffered from both as a child, but thankfully when we moved, I stayed in the same school!

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3) The “Lateral” Move

You don’t sell for $1,000,000 and buy for $1,000,000 in this market very often.

If you lived in a condo, and wanted to own a house, you might though.  And I’m sure there are other exceptions to the rule.

I suppose if you live in a downtown Toronto condo, worth $600,000, and you’re moving to Hamilton to start your new job, get married, start a family, and prices for freehold homes are $600,00, then yes, the lateral move makes sense.

But here in Toronto, most of my clients are either buying up or down, and the “lateral move” is a fear of many buyers, and probably should be.

For reasons that we’ll explore in point #1, it’s expensive to move, and to buy and sell for around the same price often doesn’t make sense.

Switching neighbourhoods around the same price point can be an option, but it really just comes down to the costs involved, and I feel as though most buyers want to truly “buy bigger.”

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2) The Bother

As I write this, I have not one, but two sets of clients who have moved in with their parents for two weeks.  I have another couple of sellers who are also leaving while their property is being sold, but they’re sailing around the world, so we don’t feel quite as bad for them!

My other seller-clients have been displaced from their homes as it’s simply not feasible for them to sell why they’re living in the house.

In the house.  In their house; it’s not feasible for them to live in their house.  How crazy is that?

Well, that’s Toronto!  That’s the market!  You’ve heard me say this over and over, but I believe there is only one “right way” to sell real estate, and it involves doing everything properly before and during the listing, cutting no corners, and not diverting from the path that’s been set out in advance.  This means, for those that choose to do it properly, that you’ve got anywhere from two weeks to two months of preparing, and it can be awful.

You start by de-cluttering, and that means throwing away stuff you probably want to keep, and/or often going through boxes you have no desire to go through.  You often work around the clock, with a deadline (ie. a target listing date), and every night you go home from work knowing that you’re simply switching jobs, as the work doesn’t stop until you finish packing, and go to bed.

You have to work on the house too.  Repairs, fixes, often renovations.  I have clients right now who are going to replace all the flooring in their condo, renovate the bathroom, paint the entire place, and maybe even tackle the kitchen cabinets while they’re at it.  They’ve told me they’re stressed, anxious, and wondering whether this is “the right move.”

But then when the property is actually cleaned, painted, repaired, and de-cluttered, the staging begins, and many people can’t live in a staged house.  Especially those with kids…

Most of my clients who have children end up moving out for 10-14 days when we sell, provided the house is freehold and in at least a lukewarm location.

If we stage the house on a Thursday, take photos on Friday, to list on Monday, that family isn’t going to live in the house on the weekend.  They’re already up at the in-laws!  So then we have a week of showings, followed by an offer night, and it’s close to two weeks before they can move back into the house.

Add all this up – packing, de-cluttering, repairing/renovating, cleaning, moving furniture and boxes to storage, staging, and finally moving out of the house, and it’s no wonder many people couldn’t be “bothered” with the process.  It’s daunting to many, although those of you who have been through it probably think it’s just the cost of doing business.

Then there’s something to be said for the “bother” of trying to essentially re-create one’s existing home, in a different location.  Those of us who take pride in our homes, and who have worked over the years to make it our “own,” often see a new house as a stark blank canvas, and thus a chore.  Some relish the opportunity to start from scratch, but others see it as a lengthy task that they could do without.  Imagine spending five years “feathering the nest,” only to have to start over elsewhere?

To each, their own.  Some might see this as complaining about nothing, but the feedback I get from people all the time is that moving is daunting, and much of it has to do with the process of selling, rather than buying.

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1) The Cost

There’s absolutely, positively, no doubting that this is the #1 reason why people don’t move…

…in Toronto, that is.

Tell me if I’m wrong, and I feel as though this could be one of those blog posts where the readers’ comments really drive home the accuracy of this list, but I have to think that if it wasn’t so expensive to move, people would do it more often.

Some see real estate as an “investment” and others are irked by that mere notion; thinking somehow that houses should be exempt from being bought/sold/traded and rather simply house people.  But for those who find themselves in the former camp, they’ll recognize that real estate as an investment has one major difference from your typical investment vehicles out there today: liquidity.

That’s not to say that real estate isn’t easily sold.  It’s a far more liquid investment than art, rare coins, or precious metals (ie. those who actually take physical possession of gold bars; I had a client once with all his money in physical materials, it was nuts).  But the time it takes to dispose of real estate is an eternity compared to the “click of a button” for selling shares of stock.

Then, there’s the cost.  That’s the major issue with liquidity, from my perspective.

And the costs associated with selling real estate might be the elephant in the room for most agents, but I tell my clients this all the time!

Land transfer tax, real estate listing fees, legal fees, movers, and then the things people don’t think about – like furnishing a new house, and all that comes with it.

Those of us in Toronto pay not one, but two land transfer taxes, to the wonderful municipality of Toronto, and province of Ontario.

On a $1,500,000 purchase, that’s $52,950 that you are never going to get back.

Now let’s say you’re selling a $700,000 condo as you prepare to move into that $1.5 Million house.  The fees are anywhere up to 6%, or $42,000.  But add in HST, and it’s even worse – $47,460.

There are other options, of course.  It costs $0.00 to put a “FOR SALE” sign on your lawn, so while the land transfer tax to Toronto and Ontario are non-negotiable, the real estate listing fees aren’t fixed.

I won’t turn this into a conversation about commission but suffice it to say, most people are paying 4-5% to sell, and that’s a big number if you’re going to buy/sell again in three years, then five years after that.

It’s why I tell a lot of my clients, “It’s expensive to move.” I do it all the time, just ask them.  “You don’t want to call me in two years, tell me you’ve outgrown the space, and have to pay me again to sell your place, and then pay two governments massive fees just to file paperwork.”

You’re going to pay a lawyer to close the sale of your existing property as well as the purchase of the new one.  Disbursements, title insurance, and other fees add up.

But what really surprises me is how much people underestimate the cost of new furnishings in the home.  How many of you have moved into a new house or condo and been blinded by light, because you had no window treatments, and never thought to get any?  How many people actually factor this in to their number-crunching when they start considering making a move?

And that couch in the living room of your condo?  You are kidding yourself if you think it’s going in your new house.

The IKEA pots and pans scream “bachelor,” and now you’re a married man in a home.  So get ready to spend!

In fact, the most common dollar figure that buyers attribute to these types of expenses is $0.  Honestly, people never think of it until they’ve already bought, already sold, and are preparing to move into the new property.  Only then do they look around at their existing furniture and realize how much they hate it.  Only then do they find themselves out, every weekend, shopping up at Castlefield & Dufferin.

This certainly isn’t the largest cost associated with moving, but it’s the most underestimated!

In the end, I think the costs involved with moving are the number-one reason why more people don’t.

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So there you have it, folks!

If there are other reasons, please feel free to share.

And for those of you that want, or wanted to move, but did not, I’d love to hear why!

The post Why Don’t People Want To Move? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

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