#why do we call it a quarter life crisis at 25?!? it should be more like 20!!!

[potato-on-your-head]

@mcbitchtits tags pass peer review

[ID: tags “meanwhile hashtag millennials out here like newsflash asshole i’ve been having a crisis this entire goddamn time” end ID]

[thusspoketrish]

Words Are Very Unnecessary

TW: Dark fic; Angst; mental illness; mention of past suicide attempt; implied self-harm; scarring; psychiatric ward; unethical medical practices/harm; inappropriate patient/doctor/staff interactions; shifting tenses

Created for the prompt Pretend for @drarrymicrofic

Title taken from Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence

3.3K words. This is something that I may consider coming back to expand on in the future. READ ON AO3.

A heartwarming thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the thorough beta!

When Healer Robins announces that Harry will not be carrying out his final rotation at St Mungo’s, he’s shocked. He’s done everything he can within the last few months to prove himself capable: he’s completed his clinical rotations with commendations, he’s saved lives, he’s brought coffee and donuts in from his favourite bakery in Diagon every Friday, and he’s even played nice with the first-year Trainee Healers. But as Healer Robins announces his fate, Harry not only feels the bottom of his stomach fall—he can practically feel the smug smile burning a hole into the back of his head from his colleague, competitor, and overall pain in his arse, Blaise Zabini.

“I’m sorry Harry, but Blaise has already proven quite successful with some of the patients in Janus Thickey. I’m afraid that if we remove him, many of the patients will respond negatively to the change,” Healer Robins says, aiming a warm smile at Zabini.

“And you have a muggle vehicle, that James Bond-looking thing, am I right, Harry?” Zabini asks.

Harry turns to face him. He hates to admit it, but Zabini looks attractive in the lime green robes—but everything about him is stylish, with his broad shoulders, his fancy clothing under his robes, his stylish haircut. Too stylish for a Healer, Harry thinks glumly, staring down at his beat-up trainers he’s had for three years now. Harry grimaces as the other man smiles widely at him. He’d wager his entire Gringotts vault that Zabini has charmed a tooth to twinkle when he smiles like that.

“Yeah, why?” Harry grunts. He doesn’t want to show just how disappointed he is over missing out on the Thickey Ward, but he’s never been that great at compartmentalising his feelings.

“You’ll need one where you’re going,” Healer Robins says.

--------

As soon as Harry pulled his sleek black ’52 Jaguar XK-120 (a result of his quarter-life crisis earlier in the year) into the driveway of St Peter’s Asylum, the 16th century estate sends a chill up his spine. He exits his car and ambles around the property for a while, wanting to gain a better sense of his new work environment. There’s a 25-mile-long anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property and no Floo Network connection. Everything about the property felt duplicitous. The beautiful large bay windows were covered excessively with sharp, pointy metal bars, stained-glass depicting religious iconography were covered in grime and spiderwebs. The columned archway framing the front entrance has cracks in them and are covered in rotting foliage. Behind the estate is a crematorium where ominous black smoke currently poured from the vents, spilling upward into the grey sky. He should have known then that something was amiss.

After a confusing meeting with Head Healer Madison, a quick introduction to the nurses and orderlies, Harry is shown to his small, gloomy office. Settled in, when he finally glanced through the files of his new patients, he nearly spilled his coffee on the pile.

He did not expect to see Draco Malfoy on his rota.

He can recall the last time he saw Malfoy, right after the trials, when Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to save him completely from time in Azkaban, but anything after? He can’t. He does not recall exactly how much time Malfoy served—had it been three years or four? Did he receive early release or was that his father? How had Harry simply put Malfoy out of his mind after everything they had both been through? How had Zabini not warned him Malfoy would be in a psychiatric ward? Did he even know?

All these questions left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. He had asked Healer Madison to give Malfoy’s file to a different Healer due to the conflict of interest, but there were no other Healers that would take Malfoy, and so Harry was left with a quandary: either help Malfoy or they’ll send him back to Azkaban, untreated, to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Malfoy’s file was as depressing as Harry imagined it to be.

Malfoy was considered a permanent resident on the ward, but the history is muddled as to why he’s been labelled permanent if his psychiatric care was part of his early release requirements from Azkaban. The threadbare treatment plan had no end goals or date to reintegrate Malfoy into Magical society. The file simply read of an attempted suicide in Azkaban, manic depression, and tendencies towards excessive violence to not just himself but those around him when angered—this was one of the reasons Healers refused him care. He had apparently injured the last three, one almost fatally. He’s been kept heavily medicated, but lately has been refusing treatment. The nurses have been providing the necessary potions intravenously.

Malfoy also hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone—not staff or other patients—for over two years.

From the gossip that the nurses regularly indulged in, Harry was able to learn that Malfoy befriended a young Scottish man named Ziggy and an elderly woman named Lottie that was also considered mute and antisocial. Ziggy had died exactly over two years ago under mysterious conditions and his body was sent to the crematorium instead of autopsied by the local Medical Examiner. When Harry had brought this oversight to Healer Madison, he had been scolded and suspended for three days for viewing files not assigned to him. She threatened to send him back to St. Mungos if he continued to work on the files that have been sealed by the Chief Healer, which would result in him failing his final rotation.

This, of course, further fuelled Harry’s interests.

-------

Harry began to watch Draco’s condition much more closely.

The other man still wouldn’t utter a word to Harry, and sometimes he wondered if Draco even recognised who he was sitting in front of, his eyes unfocused, body slumped in his chair with his bandaged arms wrapped around his body, his long blond hair falling to his shoulders in messy clumps.

Harry began to discover bruises around Draco’s wrists when they’d meet for sessions. When they began to appear around Draco’s neck, and finally, his left eye, Harry calmly enquired about it, and this sent Draco into a silent, violent frenzy. Draco had shoved most of the contents on Harry’s desk to the floor, thrown books at the walls, and ripped one of his bandages free to viciously dig his nails up and down his arm. Harry had to call a CODE RED as he scrambled to unlock his wand from the warded drawer of his desk to Stupefy Draco before he reopened all his wounds. It was the first time Harry had seen any kind of real reaction from the other man and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him. He had watched helplessly as the orderlies rushed in to gather Draco’s limp body from the floor.

Later that day, he approached Healer Madison.

“I’d like the evaluation forms for any other medical treatments Mr Malfoy is having here,” Harry had demanded. She had popped her gum in Harry’s face before rolling her eyes at his request.

“Those records are private, Potter. For the Chief Healer’s eyes only,” she had said.

“Well, I need the evaluation forms as well. I should be aware of any changes in treatment methods, considering Malfoy is one of my patients.”

Healer Madison patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax, Potter. No need to be such a bloody worry-wort. Code reds happen all the time here. You’ll soon come to realise how we do things at St Peter’s.”

-------

Harry left the hospital at 5pm every day. Like clockwork, when he’s just about to get into his car, he’ll look up to the third-floor window of the recreation room where he’ll catch Draco staring down at him through the slats of the bars. Each time, the monster in Harry’s chest that’s begun to grow with Harry’s concern and affection for Draco, roared to life. He knew it would be just a matter of time before Draco ended up dead if Harry did not figure out what’s going on in this hospital.

--------

On a particularly cold, grey day in October, one month into Harry’s rotation at St Peter’s, Harry enters the third-floor recreation room. All of Harry’s patients have been improving greatly, Draco in particular. Intravenous treatment ended a week ago as he’s now more cooperative in taking his medication by mouth. His self-harming had eased somewhat, but there were still bad days that Harry monitored closely. Draco interacts with staff and his friend Lottie again, sitting next to her to watch the Muggle telly or just holding her wrinkled hand as they both stare out the window. His grey gaze seemed stronger, more focused, determined, even. It made Harry happy to see a sliver of the person he once knew shining through, and he hoped it would just be a matter of time before Draco speaks, so Harry can help him.

Harry glances around the room. Soft music is playing from off the telly. There's plenty of places to sit, but he opts to walk over to the window where Draco is sitting and playing chess by himself. The man’s wrists are bandaged again, no doubt from picking at his scars. Harry can see a patch of blood through the gauze and wonders why none of the nurses have been around to replace them. He wishes he had his wand (which is locked in his office for safety reasons) so he can replace the bandage himself.

“Draco,” Harry starts warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Draco looks up from the board and Harry gasps. There’s another brutal black eye around his left eye, and the top of his lip is split. Harry reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Draco’s lips before grazing along his jaw. Draco remains very, very still under Harry’s touch, his lips parting slightly as his chest heaves. When Harry remembers himself, he snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“Who did this to you?” Harry hisses.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes turn incredibly bright as he exhales a phlegmy breath before his gaze shutters. Harry sits on the opposite side of the board, staring down at it as Draco takes one trembling hand to move his black bishop to E5. Harry sighs.

“You can tell me, Draco. I…I want to help you. I know there’s something terrible happening in this hospital, and I know someone is hurting you. Please, Draco—”

Draco abruptly stands from his seat, startling Harry. Draco doesn’t pay him any notice as he stretches his long, rail-thin body before strolling up to the nurse’s station. He taps on the glass divider several times before Nurse Mathilde slides the panel open.

“What is it, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco mimes smoking a cigarette.

Nurse Mathilde purses her lips. “The Chief Healer has given you permission to smoke again, but not until 5pm and especially not without an orderly present. You’ll have to wait until then. No exceptions!” she snaps before slamming the panel shut.

Draco doesn’t come back to his board game, nor does he glance over at Harry.

Harry watches as he instead sits next to his friend Lottie who is staring at the only plant in the recreational room. He lifts her wrinkled hand and entwines it with his own before settling in to watch the plant with her.

---------

At approximately 5pm Harry exits the asylum, briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. When he passes by one of the gnarled oak trees, he notices Draco leaning against it, blowing tendrils of smoke from his cigarette. Harry slows down to watch him.

Draco’s hip is cocked out, his hospital shirt bunched up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and a titillating v-line that disappears in his thin cotton hospital pyjamas. He’s properly beautiful—all long lines and sharp edges carved in delicate, alabaster marble. Harry has noticed just how clearer Draco’s eyes are now, how the grey is piercing, brimming with cleverness and an intelligence that reminds Harry of the boy he knew in Hogwarts.

Harry’s suddenly startled out of his reverence when he glances around and notices that Draco is currently unattended.

Harry decides to approach him.

“Draco. Are you out here by yourself? Where is your attending orderly?”

“He was recovering from the blowjob I gave him before I did this—” Draco says, his voice thick and raspy. Harry is so shocked to hear the familiar drawl that he stumbles forward, his eyes widening, realises too late that Draco has lunged towards him, left hand raised high to strike Harry on the side of his head with a large, jagged rock.

When Harry comes to, it’s with a sharp groan and with the sound of a string of complex Latin filling his ears. He grits his teeth as a burning sensation wraps around his wrist. He realises that he’s frozen on the ground by a particularly thorough Petrificus Totalus. Despite his throbbing head, he focuses enough to catch Draco at his side, hissing as a thin, red bracelet appears on his left wrist, the bandages now gone. Harry hasn’t seen his left arm exposed before, and he cries out as he takes in the horrific scarring over the Dark Mark, as if someone had tried to peel the Mark off with a scalpel and failed to dig deep enough. There were healed and freshly scabbed cuts from his wrist to his elbow on both arms.

Draco appears above Harry then. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

There are streaks of dirt across Draco’s face, his hands, and under his nails.

“Please, Draco, whatever it is…don’t…don’t…”

Draco snorts. “What, don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you? Why would I harm the person I’m currently Bonded to?” Draco asks, lifting Harry’s wrist to his face. The red bracelet there matches Draco’s.

Panic seizes Harry immediately. Had he not been completely immobile, he sure he’d be shuddering. “What the hell is going on?” Harry asks, his voice shaking.

Draco drops his wrist and instead lifts a thick, taped together manila folder covered in dirt. “You’re helping me get the fuck out of here, Potter.” A smile breaks across Draco’s face then, making him look both incredibly beautiful and deranged. “It was as if you breathed life back into me, the day you walked through the doors of St Peter’s. I knew then that I had to hold on just a bit longer because surely it was a sign that my initial hard work wasn’t done in vain. You see this file here? I used to sneak out documents I’d gather from Madison, the Chief Healer, and the nurses proving the abuse. Some of the orderlies will let you do whatever you want if you can…provide the right services…and they would often leave me alone long enough for a smoke. I would hide the files here, Potter. But after Z-Z-iggy—” Draco’s excitable tone falters, a veil of sadness falling so quickly over his face Harry experiences a sense of whiplash. “They killed my friend, Potter. They treated Ziggy well before, even let him play Bowie when things weren’t so bad. They killed him during the experiments…”

“What experiments?” Harry asks, shocked.

Draco’s expression shifts once again to happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t be involved in something so gruesome.” He holds up his scarred arm. “On the Dark Mark and Purebloods who have come from Dark families. They’re trying to figure out how Dark Magic is entwined in a person’s DNA and…I don’t know…undo it.”

Harry’s eyes widens, mind beginning to race. “What?”

If the Healers here were literally using human flesh and blood to somehow recreate or understand the links between DNA and inherent Dark Magic, who knows what kind of torture and body modification they’re causing their subjects.

Draco eyes become manic. “You have to help me. You have to get me out of here in the next five minutes. My outdoor time is only half an hour and the orderly is currently passed out—”

“—Draco,” Harry whispers, interrupting Draco’s spiral. “How many others are there…how many other victims?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just knew Ziggy personally but there would always be screams, so much screaming, so many voices…” Draco says, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot. He mutters softly, incoherently, to himself for a few moments before he opens his eyes, so grey, intense and bright. Harry is overwhelmed with shock, horror, and above all, disgust. Disgusted that the people he’s been working alongside for a month now, the people who have vowed first to do no harm, have been torturing their patients, vulnerable patients.

“Draco, I want to help you, okay? I will help you. You just have to undo the Petrificus Totalus. We’ll get in the car and just drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Draco holds up Harry’s wand, points it at Harry’s face. “If you betray me, Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll get in that fancy car of yours and you’ll drive until I say stop. If you do anything to prevent me from getting these files to the right people…if you try to get help from the Aurors or let your friends know what’s going on, I’ll off myself. And this bond here, this bond will take you with me. I’m the only one that knows the counter, and once we get to my final destination, I’ll release you. So, don’t you dare fucking try me.”

Harry bites back a gasp.

Despite his very real fear, Harry’s desire to help Draco outweighs it. He nods.

“Okay, whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

Draco’s face, dark with suspicion, slowly starts to slide towards something lighter. He bares his teeth. “I hold onto the wand. You’re not allowed to touch me, period, or else I might get the wrong idea that you’re trying to get your wand back, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, or worse, hurt myself.”

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, Draco undoes the spell. Harry sits up slowly, so as not to alarm Draco, who has quickly scrambled to his feet, the dirty file hugged to his chest, wand still trained on Harry. Harry follows after him, head throbbing and legs unsteady.

Draco casts a healing charm his way before strengthening a Disillusionment Charm around them.

Feeling much steadier, Harry exhales. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you in the first place. I had no other means to incapacitate you.”

“You could have just told me what was going on.”

Draco shrugs. “I had to make sure you were trustworthy. And honestly, I’ve wanted to knock you out for years, so this very much fulfilled a boyhood dream of mine,” Draco says, his lips tugging upward. Harry pauses to look at him. The monster in his chest is awake, thrashing about as affection and desire feeds it.

Harry knows he’s fucked.

They make their way towards Harry’s car after checking on the unconscious orderly. Once settled in, Harry starts the car and drives, past the gates of the asylum and onto the stretch of empty country road. He glances at Draco, not at all shocked to see the tears that are streaming down his battered face.

“Where to?” Harry asks softly.

Draco continues to stare out ahead of him as he answers, “the only safehouse I know. A house on Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.”

Harry draws in a sharp breath.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved... unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange​

Chapter 1: Life offers you many surprises

Berlin, Französische Straße Friday, 25 July 2025, 8.50 a.m.

         Five minutes earlier, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp had entered the large, light gray house, built in the neo-Renaissance style that dominated the whole Forum Fridericianum. In the lobby, which was dominated by marble and dark wood, Claire was greeted by a receptionist. She was asked to sit down for a moment in one of the dark leather armchairs, of which four were grouped around an elegant round table. As she waited, her eyes wandered up the high walls of the entrance hall. A few steps of a staircase led out of the hall through a large glass door that ended in a round arch at the top, reminiscent of a gate entrance. Above it was a large ornament of dark stones inlaid in the light marble. The ornament showed a circle, which, as it seemed, was formed from a belt. The words "Je suis prest" could be read in the curve of the circle and in the center of the ornament was the head of a stately stag, which looked directly at the observer.

“Französische Straße Berlin” by Jörg Zägel / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

         Claire knew that the French motto meant "I am ready!", but just as she was wondering what the sign meant, an older lady approached her. She introduced herself as Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons. This employee, whose blue costume gave the impression of a uniform, led Claire down various small staircases and long corridors to the room where she was now sitting. Wherever they had gone in this house, it had been extremely quiet. The heavy, dark red carpets that covered all the stairs and hallways, had swallowed every sound of their footsteps. Now she sat in a room whose furnishings were characterized by dark wood and light brass and whose dimensions were more like those of a hall. But it was the antechamber of the CEO’s office of "Fraser & Son International" and behind the large double-winged door that Claire was now looking at was the study of Dr. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, one of the country's leading business owners.         Until two weeks ago, Claire did not know the man's name or that of his company. She didn't care about the gossip press, which also reported on the local "high society" in Berlin. But then Geillis Duncan, her best friend, came by one evening and showed her a job ad from the "Wirtschaftswoche" newspaper. At first Claire was completely surprised. How did Geillis, who loved to read the gossip press, come to show her an ad from Germany's leading weekly magazine for managers?

         "Dave left it on the kitchen table, and since I didn't have anything else at hand, I looked into it while having breakfast. But now take a look at this job ad!"

Geillis had emphatically pointed to an ad that featured the same ornament as the one she had seen in the lobby.          Claire had started reading. A pedagogically trained caregiver was needed for an almost seven-year-old child. The woman should speak fluent German, English and French. Further foreign language skills were welcome but not required. Furthermore, an extensive general education and an impeccable curriculum vitae (i.e. no entries in the Federal Central Crime Register) were expected. Special emphasis was placed on the knowledge and practice of the literature written by Adolph Freiherr Knigge. Three times the current monthly salary was offered, 30 days paid vacation, free board and lodging, private health insurance 1st class.

         "Just imagine Claire!" the girlfriend had exclaimed enthusiastically, "If you got this job and worked there for a few years, all your problems would be solved!”

         Geillis was right, well, almost. Surely not all her problems would be solved. But the financial problems she had to deal with could at least be significantly reduced by this job. She had to acknowledge that and so Claire, Geillis and her friend Dave met that very evening to write a letter of application. Dave, who worked for a large media company at Potsdamer Platz, immediately agreed to help her with his knowledge. The next day, Claire had sent off the application. Then she had bought an updated edition of "The Knigge" and started reading it. Shortly after, Geillis came and brought her a large pile of current newspaper clippings so Claire could learn all she needed to know about the person of James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and the family business he ran.

         She learned a lot about the company from various business magazines, but the person of James Fraser seemed almost like a phantom. It seemed to her that this man also didn't care about the so-called "high society" and obviously he didn't deliver any headlines to the gossip press. There was neither an article about him nor a photo of him on the company's homepage. Even a Wikipedia article with his name only gave the basic data (birthday, place of birth, family, studies) and otherwise dealt more with the globally active company. "Fraser & Son International" was one of the few family-owned companies that to this day had no shareholders and, having invested in a wide range of economic sectors, not only survived the financial crisis of 2008 well, but had even emerged from it stronger. In this Wikipedia article, however, there was a photo by James Fraser. It showed him with a group of business leaders at a national conference. However, this picture was over eight years old and also very pixelated. At some point everything turned in Claire's head and she hoped that she had not learned all this information for nothing. If she would at least be invited for a job interview.          Ten days later, she hadn't dared to hope that she would ever hear of Fraser & Son International, and to her surprise, her smartphone rang just before the lunch break began. A Dr. Ned Gowan called on behalf of the company, explained that he was the lawyer for "Fraser & Son International" and asked if she could come for an interview at the company's headquarters two days later at 9:00 am. She told him that she had to ask her department head to give her time off first and would call back. As the summer vacation period was over, it was no problem to get a day off and so she called Dr Gowan fifteen minutes later and agreed to meet him (and Dr. Fraser!) two days later. Claire had to be extremely restrained not to cheer out loud. This would have immediately drawn the attention of her colleagues in the department, and she definitely did not want to tell them about it. During lunch break, she left the clinic and sat down on a bench in a nearby park. From there she called Geillis and told her the good news. Right after the end of her shift, the friends met in the parking lot of the clinic to go into town together and pick out a suitable "outfit" for Claire's job interview. Geillis, who had worked as a freelance fashion consultant for many years before she met "the rich Dave", dragged her friend directly to the fashion department of the KaDeWe. There, after a while, they found a muted dark green business costume that emphasized Claire's figure but still looked respectable.

“Kaufhaus des Westens (KaDeWe) - Foto by Avi1111 dr. avishai teicher / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)

         "That's perfect," exclaimed Geillis as Claire stepped out of the dressing room.          "Yes, perfectly too expensive for me. Have you seen the price?"          "Don't worry about that," Geillis replied. Then she whispered:          "I'll pay for it. If the job doesn't work out, we'll just give it back afterwards. And if you get the job and want to keep it, you'll give me the money back when you get your first salary.”

         They bought the costume and also a matching blouse and shoes. Claire was not allowed to think about the amount of money they had spent within a few hours or she would get sick.          But that was all forgotten at that moment. Now it was time to concentrate and make a good impression.          Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons had led her into this room and instructed her to use one of the twelve large brown leather armchairs. With the words          "You will be called in when it is your turn,"          she had said goodbye.          Claire had taken a seat and scanned the room as inconspicuously as possible. Seven other women sat in leather armchairs of the same type, which were set up on three side walls of the room, each separated by a small table. On the tables were glasses and bottles of mineral water, but none of the other women had made use of them. Claire had not intended to drink anything either. She was far too excited to drink, and she was afraid that she might have to go to the bathroom in the middle of her upcoming job interview. Slowly, her gaze wandered across the light-colored carpet to that large, two-winged mahogany wooden door. On each of the wings was a coat of arms, divided into four sections. On the upper left and the lower right quarter were three white flowers on a blue background. The upper right and the lower left quarter each showed three red, pointed crowns on a white background. Behind this door, Claire assumed, must be the director's room. What would she expect there? She did not know. Why had she only gotten involved in this thing that Geilis Duncan had suggested to her? Out of desperation? She wasn't sure. Only one thing was sure: she had never thought that she would have to have another job interview at the age of almost 30. But that was her life. Much of what had happened in her life had not been planned, nor had she ever expected her life to be like that.          Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, almost divorced Randall, had lost her parents in a car accident when she was five years old. For the next fifteen years she was raised in the loving care of her uncle 'Lamb'. Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, an archaeologist and Egyptologist whose research focus was on the Old Kingdom of Egypt and who was highly revered by his students, came to Berlin in 2015, where he taught at Humboldt University in the last years before his retirement. There Claire had also met her future husband, Dr. Frank Randall. He had been assigned to her uncle as a research assistant. Randall had courted her like no man before and they had already married in May 2016. The first four years of their marriage had gone in a way that Claire would still describe as happy today. Although, she was no longer quite so sure. What did happiness actually mean? Was there a definition for this term? And even if there was a definition for the term "happiness", was it really valid for all people? In any case, the first four years of her marriage had not been very negative. Together they had made regular trips to Paris, Madrid, Prague, Budapest, Dubrovnik, Palermo, Venice, Turin, Marseille, Amsterdam, Florence, Milan, Barcelona and Bruges.

“Palermo/Sizilien” by  nataliaaggiato 

         Claire enjoyed getting to know these cities and experiencing their cultural particularities. When Lambert Beauchamp died unexpectedly in February 2019 as a result of a stroke, Frank had been kind and, in her opinion, very sensitive to her needs. But in the spring of 2020, a strange development had set in with him. At first Claire had blamed it on the effects of the corona pandemic. After the start of the lockdown, Frank was mainly at home, giving lectures via Zoom and otherwise writing a new book on the history of the Scottish Jacobite uprising in 1745. Claire, on the other hand, was working as a nurse in the children's clinic of Berlin's Charité hospital, as she had been before the crisis. Frank had insisted that Claire should give up her job. The possibility that she could become infected with the virus seemed too high to him. But Claire could not bring it over her heart to leave her fellow nurses alone, especially in such a severe time, and thanks to the strictly observed precautions she got through this difficult time without any problems. While she could be happy about the successes in her profession, the problems in her marriage with Frank seemed to become bigger and bigger. At some point, she felt that Frank was becoming more and more monosyllabic and that they were drifting apart rapidly. But evem then she thought this was a temporary phase that would end after the pandemic at the latest. At least she hoped so. When a vaccine against the virus was finally found in July 2021 and became available in December 2021, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She and Frank would get vaccinated and then they could travel again. This would change Frank's mind and make her marriage blossom again. But it all turned out differently. Once they were vaccinated, Frank suddenly didn't feel like traveling anymore. Again and again he put off his work. Regularly he worked until late at night at the university and sometimes he spent whole nights there. It was always about important analyses, which he published in specialist publications and for which there were tight deadlines. Even on evenings when Claire was off, he was rarely at home, and whenever she tried to initiate a little marital tenderness, he was too tired for that. In the spring of 2022, they had slept together for the last time. A few months later, Frank had stopped kissing her goodbye, as he usually did when he left the house.          What happened then had the potential to throw her completely off track. By the fall of 2022, a hunch that Claire had suppressed again and again had been confirmed. Frank had a mistress. When she returned from her work at the children's hospital one evening in October, she saw Frank saying goodbye to a slender blonde at the door of their shared house, kissing her intensely. She stood there frozen. Everything inside her urged her to turn around and run away. But then the anger that built up within her gained the upper hand. Like a burning ray that shot out of her stomach through her whole body, he took a breath. She ran to the front door, unlocked it and found Frank standing at the sink in the kitchen, where he was just rinsing out two wine glasses. He turned to her in surprise, but before he could say a word, Claire's purse hit him in the left half of his face with full force. Frank had lost his balance and had fallen over. His glasses had come off his head and had broken when he hit the kitchen floor. Claire no longer knew what insults she had used to call him. Frank had picked himself up and collected the parts of his glasses. He had not even set out to explain the situation or apologize.Claire would not have listened to him either. She had turned on her foot and had run into the shared bedroom. When she arrived there, she had taken Frank's bed linen, run back downstairs with it and threw it all into his study. Then she ran back into the bedroom again and locked herself inside. She did not know how long she had cried angrily. But before she had fallen asleep, she had made a plan. The next morning she went on the morning shift. During a break she called a lawyer and that same afternoon she went to see her to discuss the formalities of a divorce.

“Brille” by  jottbe

         Frank had had the injuries Claire had inflicted on him treated, but had not reported them to the police. It was only later that he let it show that he had orchestrated the whole situation. He had simply been too cowardly to have a conversation with her about a divorce, as two adults normally do. He probably wanted to make her feel guilty, too. Claire was convinced of that, at least. Frank had always been against her going back to work. When she accepted the job at the children's hospital a year after their wedding, he had expressed himself very negatively about it. What kind of impression would it leave on his colleagues if the wife of a prospective professor went to work? And in the last year of their marriage he had not missed any opportunity to tell her how much he felt neglected.            It took three months before Claire was able to move into a small room in one of the Charité nurses' homes. During these three months she did everything she could to avoid Frank as much as possible. Anything she couldn't take with her to the nurses' home, she stored in her friend Geillis Duncan's basement. Claire hoped that the divorce would be finalized in October 2023 after the obligatory year of separation and that she could finally start a new life. But this time, too, everything turned out differently than she had hoped.          It was a rainy autumn day in September 2023 and it was to be the last day in the life of Dr. Frank Randall. On a country road near Lübeck, where he had attended a conference for historians, Frank's car skidded for some unknown reason. The car broke through the barrier and then came to a halt in a field. There it was discovered the next morning by a farmer. When the police arrived at the scene of the accident, Dr. Frank Randall was strapped in the seat belt and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened. He was uninjured and even still wearing his hat. But Frank Randall was dead. An autopsy performed later revealed that Frank had had a heart attack that caused him to lose control of the car, causing it to veer off the road. It was, as the police later said, very lucky that no other car had been hit. Claire was shaken.

“Lübeck”  by scholty1970 

         But an even greater shock struck her on the day of the reading of the will. On that day, the notary told her that she would not inherit any money, only debts from Frank. Her still-husband had bought a condominium for his mistress for 250,000 euros, which he had signed over to her. For this gift Frank had gone into debt and Claire, who was still married to him by law, inherited his debts. It was one big nightmare. Although Claire had also inherited the rights to Frank's books, these reference books sold only in very manageable numbers and brought in little money. With her salary as a pediatric nurse, it would take her decades to pay off Frank's debts. Meanwhile, Sandy Travers, this  bleached ...., was sitting in her apartment, probably enjoying herself with her next lover. Once again the anger about Frank rose in Claire's heart, but before she could think about him any further, a familiar voice tore her from these thoughts. 

[curiosityjams]

re: iz*one

first of all, i wanted to say i didn’t plan on writing something about the disbandment. the past few months have been incredibly rough on my mental state to the point where i feel as if i’ve lost all sense of self. shit has been so rough for me, their disbandment being confirmed made that even worse for me. however, i realized i need to learn how to be okay with like...being open about my own emotions in a time of uncertainty and writing them out helps me in a way even if a lot of those emotions i’d rather keep private. i’ve also been going thru a time where i’m currently reevaluating this past year and everything i’ve done/felt in the past few yrs (2.5 of those years being izone’s run), so i thought i’d write something about the disbandment and what iz*one means to me, esp during this point in my life. i’d write more about what led me to this point, but if i did, i’d end up writing a whole novel, so i’m just going to keep this as short as possible.

also if this is a jumbled mess, i’m sorry!!!!

since we’re here to talk about the inevitable, i just wanted to say that i’ve probably had a harder time accepting them being gone than i thought. i knew they were gonna disband eventually bc lol produce group, but also, knowing what happened with the voting scandal and the panasonic, it makes it even worse for me. i hate that they didn’t even bother to handle their disbandment in a way that wasn’t complete horseshit. i hate how the pandora screwed everything up. i hate how we didn’t even get a proper goodbye from the girls. i knew that this was going to happen, but i fucking hate how it all turned out. i can’t say i’m 100% happy with the ending and honestly, don’t think i’ll ever be able to fully accept that they’re no longer a group. 

that said, i’m not here to vent.

while i’m obviously upset that they’re gone, the fact that they were ever a group to begin with--i’ll forever be grateful. i avoided getting into them for the longest time because of my own trauma from being involved in the 48 fandom (smth i’ll talk about at a later time bc it’s a lot), but the moment i decided to watch their “up” performance and actually give them a chance beyond looping la vie en rose, that’s when i fell in love. i fell in love with the music. i fell in love with the visuals. i fell in love with the bond between the girls. most of all, i fell in love with the fact that during a weird transitional period in my 20s, i found a group that gave me the closure i needed in a time where it felt like the world was against me while also giving me the strength i need to move on. 

while we’re on that topic, let’s talk about kwon eunbi.

as you already know from my url, eunbi is obviously my bias. she’s the leader of the group, under the company my ult group, lovelyz, is also in, and THE absolute all-rounder. she’s extremely talented, super fucking funny, a babe of THE highest order, and the best single mom you could ever ask for. every time i watch a video of iz*one’s or look at any of their pics, i’m always in absolute awe of her. while i love all of the girls (j-line has a very special place in my heart bc of my time in 48 fandom) and do consider the entire group to be one full of bias wreckers, it’s eunbi that instantly caught my eye and the one i’m incredibly proud to call my ult.

“now, drea, why is it that you’re taking so much time with talking about how special this group and that girl are to you?” well, it’s mainly because that eunbi and i are the same age (both 95-liners, but i’m older by 2 months) that i’m so drawn to not only her, but the group as well. yeah, it’s normal to be drawn to members born in your birth year, but for me and esp in this case, it’s far more complex than it seems.

around the time i got into the group, i was (still am) going thru a quarter life crisis. i had just finished my a.a., was a few months away from turning 24, and had pretty much decided i was going to take an indefinite hiatus from twitter due to the amount of harm its done to my mental health over 10 years. i felt like shit knowing that so many people my age were living their lives, getting married, having kids, etc all that shit while i felt as if i was frozen in time and like i could never accomplish any of those things because according to society, my time was up. as a woman on the autism spectrum, i never felt like anything i did was enough and knowing that even after years of trauma, the feeling that if i don’t have my entire life sorted out by 24/25 scared the living shit out of me. knowing that a panini happened made those feelings even worse. 

i know it’s weird to like...feel so many emotions over this esp since 23-25 is young and starting your career out at that age is normal. that said, knowing how eunbi was already in a group prior to joining iz*one that ended up disbanding months after they debuted, the road she took to get to where she is now, and the fact that she’s 25/26 and will get so many chances to start over is what gives me hope after such a shit year. i can finally get to where i want to be, i’ll graduate from university, i’ll hopefully get a job that will earn me enough money to move out of my mom’s house, i’ll find love, etc who the fuck knows what’s going to happen? i hate that after years of hating myself and being afraid of getting older because people often have this mentality that you should abandon all sense of yourself once you hit your mid 20s, it’s taken me THIS long to actually start accepting myself for who i am and living my life for myself, but i’m excited to see where the fuck life takes me after years of self-hatred, trauma, and trying too hard to please ppl that don’t give a shit. seeing eunbi just have a fucking blast on stage, take care of her members, and overall be the amazing person she is gave me the strength i desperately needed to actually get to the path i want to be on as someone that’s a few years away from turning 30.

as i said earlier, i’m not ready to just outright accept iz*one being gone. i’ll probably spend the entire month of may just watching their content since there’s still a shitton of stuff i have yet to watch and i’m lowkey embarrassed that as a fan, i’m admitting this, but also: there’s no time limit. i can always watch that video at another time, i’ll like that pic later, etc. i wish iz*one was one of those things that had no time limit because i’ll always cherish them, but in the 2.5 years of their existance, i achieved some big things and survived a pandemic. i left twitter, got closure in chapters i needed closure in, finished my a.a., etc among many other things during that time and it’s partly because of iz*one that i’ve pushed myself to do all of those things. it’s hard esp since it’s easier to just write smth like this on tumblr than actually do it, but the girls and their music were part of the reason why 2020 wasn’t a complete dumpster fire for me. 

most of all, i wanted to write this because i wanted to shout-out the amazing folks at @izonetwork​. i joined super late in the game, but the convos i’ve had, the laughs we’ve had on discord/among us, etc i’ll never forget it. meeting all of you was one of THE highlights of an otherwise shitty year and i’ll always credit you as one of the reasons why i wasn’t completely emotionally distant during such a dark time. all of you keep me grounded and i’m forever grateful. super honored to call you guys my friends. <3

so yeah, thank you iz*one. thank you, eunbi, sakura, hyewon, yena, chaeyeon, chaewon, minju, nako, hitomi, yuri, yujin, and wonyoung. i don’t speak korean or japanese, but know i’m eternally grateful for all the joy, strength and bops you gave me in the past 2.5 years. i’m even more grateful for the friends i’ve met thru my own fandom of the group. i’m excited to see what every single one of you does next regardless of what it may be. 

now if you’ll excuse me, i have to go catch up on all the enozis i’ve missed. 

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

[runenc03]

Til the light goes out (and after) - part 1

Writing date: I started in October ‘20, got scared by the amount of personal issues I put into “the reader” and procrastinated. I eventually finished in January ‘21, lol.

Genre: Angst, I guess? But not too badly, it’s fine.

Warnings: Insecurity (to everyone reading this, you are worthy!!)

Word count: 3.6k words

---------------------------------------------

"I remember when I reached the age of 25 and I had this jarring quarter-life crisis. I felt like I wasn't at all where I wanted to be: I wanted to be deeply in love and almost married to my soulmate. (...) I also wanted to be a publishing author. Yet I was single, and had never put a book together, even after writing hundreds of poems, journal entries, and essays in my life. I felt like I was just wasting my time, and that felt terrifying. That was three years ago. I look back at that time in my early to mid twenties so differently now. I see many beautiful poems written. Deep conversations with cherished friends. Night walks, early morning walks. Dinners with my family and birthdays, going around the table saying what we love about each other. (...) None of it was wasted. It was beautiful, and the life I had lived was so meaningful and precious. I wish I could go back, and tell myself that, so the younger me could appreciate each moment, rather than comparing where she was to where she wanted to be."

~Katherine Cimorelli Straneva

-----------------------------♡--------------------------

"I think Miss Swann over there should have the role."

Your hands stopped their movements to free you from your pirate costume, and you looked up. Your entire group of colleagues was staring at you, expectantly.

You see, you worked at a theme park, and it was just about the most amazing job ever. Every holiday period, it opened its gates, ready to shower people of all ages in everything magical. You were part of the actors crew, which basically meant that you acted out entire stories at fixed intervals and filled the rest of your time with walking around the theme park in costumes, doing small acts on your way. Often you ended up improvising, dancing with your guests, and of course posing for pictures. If you could, you would live in the theme park. Really, there was just something so entrancing about the atmosphere there, the music coming out of the lanterns beside all the roads, the roller coasters, the beautifully decorated buildings. A big part of the magic was because of the work you and your crew put into your characters and its stories though, you shouldn't underestimate that, which was exactly the reason you weren't too keen on taking the lead role in your next story. The pressure to create the biggest part of the magic was something you didn't know you could handle.

"I'm...not too sure about that. Ariel always plays the lead role, why shouldn't she now? I've never even done a lead role."

'Ariel' was one of your colleagues you were probably the closest with. She was funny, kind, and seemingly good at everything she did, acting included. Her real name wasn't Ariel, but you never called each other by your real names. It was like a tradition within your crew to call everyone by the name of the character they were currently playing. Seeing as she had had the lead role in your newest play, a crossover between Pirates of the Caribbean and The Little Mermaid, her name had been Ariel for the past two weeks, and yours had been Elizabeth.

Your friend wriggled herself out of her tail, her eyes still on you. A smirk was playing around her mouth, and your stomach gave a swirl. She had actually meant it when she proposed to give you the lead role.

"Because, dear Elizabeth, you wrote the play, and you did so beautifully! Your talent is ridiculous, and I think the entire thing is going to come across as much more honest if you play the biggest part in your own story. Isn't that logical?"

The other members of your crew nodded in agreement, and while you couldn't help but smile at their faith in you, the nerves in your stomach grew. You started to untie the laces of your pirate boots as you voiced your concerns.

"I'm not too sure about that. It's a love story, remember?"

The grinning on Ariel's face turned into a warm smile, but her eyes showed determination, and at that point you knew that you had lost this particular battle.

"I remember, and I also remember that you're the biggest romantic out of all of us. Come on, we all know you're going to be fantastic."

Another colleague of yours spoke up, telling you that he'd been in awe of the script you'd written, and another joined, claiming she'd even cried a little at the end. Your doubts slowly folded themselves back up again.

"The story belongs in this place, just like the lead role belongs to you, Elizabeth."

The words were spoken by the most timid guy in your crew. He never talked in your plays but provided the music in them, and even though he was terrific at adding that extra touch of magic to your stories, he never contributed to conversations about their content. You thought he just didn't really mind, as long as he could play his music. If he was willing to speak out loud about it, it must mean you really were meant to follow your crew's judgement.

You smiled, a blush blossoming on your cheeks, and you knew your eyes twinkled when you finally gave in.

"I'll do it."

_______________________________________

"Hey!"

You plopped down next to the music guy in your group, feeling extra cheerful today. You would start rehearsing the piece you had written today, and now that you'd been able to get over the initial insecurities you'd had, you felt really excited about this first rehearsal.

"Good morning, Jade."

You grinned at your brand new name, rummaging through your bag. Tossing aside a water bottle and some elastic bands, you found what you were looking for. Your eyes scanned over the words, making sure you had taken the right document out of the stack you had brought with you, before stretching out your arm in the direction of the music guy. He looked in your direction questioningly. Your grin turned into a warm, although somewhat insecure smile.

"If you're okay with it, your name is Sam from now on."

He read your script in silence, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Who says I can even act?"

"Who said I was able to play the lead role of my own story?"

He threw his head back in laughter, and you watched, surprised you were able to get such an exuberant reaction out of him.

Your alarm chose that exact moment to go off, the bright letters "START REHEARSAL" instantly reforming the knot in your stomach. You frowned at yourself. Weren't you over it by now? It was time to start the whole thing and you were still nervous, for God's sake.

"Hey, you'll be fine. Even better, you get to kiss the guy everyone wants to marry. You should relax more, maybe you can enjoy acting again then."

You tore your eyes away from your phone and onto Sam's face. His comment didn't help at all, and your face must have shown it, because his eyes went from warm to panicked, and your guilt punched the knot of nerves in your stomach. What a mess you'd made of all of this, already. You managed to send a tired smile in his direction, trying to salvage as much as you could from whatever it had been that had made him open up to you a bit.

"Thanks for trying to calm me, really it means a lot. I think I'll calm down once this rehearsal is over though. Are you ready? You're in the scene I want to start the rehearsal with."

He nodded again, awkwardly showing you the flute he was holding, and followed you to the middle of the room where you beckoned everyone to come join you so you could start.

Taking one last deep breath, you started.

"Hi everyone! As you know, we're starting our rehearsals for my story today. If everything went well, you've all received the script for the character you're playing. I actually wanted to start with one of the last scenes,..."

Everyone nodded at you encouragingly throughout your little speech, and as you realised that these were all your friends who genuinely cared about you, you felt the knot in your stomach slowly untie itself.

The first scene you rehearsed was actually the ultimate confrontation between the good and the bad in your story. Your friend Ariel, whose name was now Ruby, played the villain in your story, and you played Jade, the lead character. This scene basically consisted of the fight between Ruby and the main character's love interest, Dante. The story situated itself in the medieval times. Dante had come to Ruby's tower to rescue Jade, who he believed was kidnapped by Ruby, but upon arriving, he - and the park's visitors - would discover that Jade wasn't actually kidnapped and Ruby had made it all up. Then, Jade would realise everything just in time to go up to Ruby's tower as well and rescue Dante, instead of the other way around. What could you say? You'd always been a feminist at heart. Dante was played by a great friend of yours, and you'd actually written this piece thinking he could play the male love interest, while Ariel would play the female lead role, but things had, evidently, taken a turn. The two of them had been friends way longer than you'd been friends with any of them, and even though the three of you were really close, you couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry the two of them had, something you and Dante would very much lack, or at least that's what your insecurities made you believe.

However, you didn't want to rewrite the entire thing just so you wouldn't have to play each other's love interest, and you had showed the script, including the initial cast, to everyone anyway, so it wasn't really something you could get out of without a whole lot of awkwardness.

The rehearsal started off well enough. Ruby was, as you'd expected, really, a brilliant villain, and apart from some minor corrections from you, everyone executed the script exactly the way you had in mind. You were starting to believe in this.

That was, until the very end of the play, in which Jade and Dante would get all cute because of the whole we-just-survived-a-villain-attack-and-thought-we'd-lost-each-other situation. You thought you'd mentally prepared yourself, really, you had, but apparently it hadn't been enough. The awkward tension was palpable, your own movements, usually so fluent, were now stiff, your rigid body seemingly forgetting how your limbs worked. No one said anything about it, but you felt it and you know the others did too.

And you tried to pull out of that awkward moment, tried to chase your insecurities away, you really did, but they seemed to cling to you, and the longer it lasted, the worse your mood became. When you almost fell off of the stage because you'd instinctively set a step backwards when Dante had tried to pull you into his arms, you knew you couldn't continue like this.

Hastily, you grabbed your jacket, quickly telling everyone you would have a 15-minute break and that they'd done a good job, before hurriedly walking out of the building, and into the cold.

_______________________________________

The wind quickened your tears, and you angrily wiped them away before they could hit your neck, mad at yourself for allowing them to fall down. You knew you'd had to get back inside your rehearsal room eventually, and while everyone had a good image of what you were doing, you weren't looking forward to letting them see the evidence.

Most of all though, you felt vulnerable. Vulnerable because you had failed, and because everyone had witnessed you doing it. Vulnerable because your biggest insecurities had just come true.

"Hey, what is up with you?"

You looked up, watching as Ruby flopped herself down on the bench you were sitting on, turning herself so she was completely facing you. She wore an expression of confusion, and worry.

You let go of your eye contact, your eyes drilling holes in the soil beneath your feet. You owed her the truth. In fact, you owed your entire crew the truth. Being completely honest with yourself, you knew that was the only way this play would end up being a success. You took a deep breath.

"I'm just....not equipped to play Dante's love interest."

You couldn't look at her, too ashamed, but her voice conveyed honest surprise, which, in turn, made you surprised. Didn't she realise how obvious it all was?

"What are you talking about? You were fine until you had to reunite with Dante, and if you didn't like physical contact or if you were extremely hesitant for anything romantic, I'd agree with you and say you should probably focus on roles you are very good at, but you, you're a hopeless romantic at heart, and you like physical contact. Why is it so difficult then? I'm not making fun of you, I genuinely don't understand."

You scoffed, too caught up in your own head, annoyed at her lack of understanding.

"How can you not? I've never had a boyfriend, and that explains everything. Don't you see? It's not that I don't want to play a character that's in love, and I'm sure that if I managed to calm down I'd even enjoy it, but whenever I come close to Dante I feel like "forever single" is practically inked on my forehead."

You had, by now, managed to look at your friend, your annoyance chasing away a bit of the previous insecurity and shame. Her face morphed into a look of understanding, and you didn't know if that made you feel better of worse.

"I know it's a bit intimidating to play Dante's love interest, and I know that, like, everyone wants to date him, or at least gushes about how good-looking he is, but that doesn't mean that you can't play his love interest. Stop thinking you're too ugly to be around beautiful people."

If you hadn't been feeling so terrible, you might have literally facepalmed. Maybe you should've seen this coming, but Dante being known as the Adonis of your group really was the least of your worries.

"Wait...what? No, this has nothing to do with him being attractive, you know he and I are only friends. In fact, I think you would be great as his girlfriend, I would totally ship that. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that he's just a friend and it's not about playing his love interest, it's about playing someone's love interest in general. I just...what if it looks completely stupid? I know it looked stupid now. I can imagine all these cute things in my head, but then when I have to execute them, the only thing I can think about is that no one wants to do this with me in real life, and that just...I don't know. You all one by one find the love of your lives, or at least good partners you're happy and in love with, and it...it just makes me wonder if I'll ever be good enough to have that myself, as well."

"Oh, honey..."

You felt Ruby's arm wrap around you, her hand stroking your back, and you eyes filled themselves with tears again. She wasn't a physical person and therefore didn't like touching people, but she did now for you because she knew that you were. The tears started falling again.

"I mean, I knew you were ready to have a boyfriend, or like, to commit to someone and be in love with them, but I didn't know you were so insecure about not being in a relationship, and now I wish I'd realised that earlier. But you have to realise that while you're insecure now because you think no one is going to want you, you're going to be insecure about not deserving a boyfriend when you have one. Trust me, the insecurities don't go away, they just change. I guess what I'm trying to say is... don't wait for that moment that you're someone's girlfriend, the insecurities aren't going to magically disappear then. Now's the time to work on them. And, this shouldn't matter, but for the record: I fully believe that you are very worthy of being someone's girlfriend, and when the right person comes along, you'll give your all, because that's who you are, and it'll go a lot better than most of the relationships you wish to have yourself now. For now though, just have fun. You get to kiss Dante and make lots of bratty girls jealous!"

You chuckled at her attempt to cheer you up. You were really grateful for her. The two of you were complete opposites, and her radiance sometimes made you insecure, but right now, with her words, you believed yourself a worthy person again, and that meant more than you could express.

"That's what Sam said, too."

Ruby's eyebrows went up at lightning speed, her eyes wide.

"Wait, he talks? And he told you you'd be a good girlfriend?"

You rolled your eyes, but also noted how you had to fight the blush off of your cheeks.

"No, dummie, he told me I'd be able to kiss the guy - and I quote - everyone wants to marry. I guess he's not wrong, a lot of female visitors do seem to want to faint whenever he includes them in improvs."

Your friend chuckled, and, her laugh being so infectious, you chuckled along with her. Then, when you didn't expect it, she jumped off of the bench, beckoning you to follow her. As she entered the rehearsal room, she yelled that you'd come with her, and as the rest of the group started cheering, you realised that that had been a good choice.

_______________________________________

"Dante, hold on, I'm coming!"

A few of your younger spectators started whispering excitedly as you stepped into view, quickly climbing a long, round staircase to get to platform on which Dante and Ruby were battling. You were busy concentrating on tripping and falling off of the stairs. That had happened once during your rehearsals, and if you hadn't still been in the lower half of the stairs and if Sam hadn't discarded his flute to catch you, you probably wouldn't have been able to play Jade. While that scenario would've actually sounded appealing a few weeks ago, you had to admit now that you loved playing the lead role in this play.

You threw yourself in the battle, pulling just about the bluntest sword out of its holder around your waist, and clashing with Ruby's. Needless to say, Ruby was no match for you and Dante together, and with a dramatic last breath of air - and a smirk only you and Dante could see from so high up - she fell backwards, tumbling down. This part had actually taken quite some organisational talent. Right in front of the platform you were battling on, there was the staircase, while there was some kind of wall behind the platform. Ruby always fell down behind the wall, where multiple thick layers of soft material made her fall softly and unharmed. The visitors, however, only saw her tumbling down the platform, which made for a very dramatic effect. Of course, Ruby, out of all people, loved it the most.

While the enthusiastic applause intensified, you and Dante fell into each other's arms. You separated a bit, and patiently waited as Dante pulled a lock of your hair behind your ear, something that was in the script. Then, he leaned down slightly, pulling you in for a small, but cute kiss. This wasn't your first time enacting the play, and so you'd gotten used to kissing Dante, and even though you both really didn't have romantic feelings for each other and this was only just a play, you found that the enthusiasm during that kiss from both the kids and adults who were watching, had cured a lot of your insecurities over time.

Hand in hand, you walked down the stairs. Beneath you, the crowd started cheering again, and Dante squeezed your hand, smiling at you. You knew he was congratulating you for once again bringing the play to a successful end. Every time the two of you walked down those stairs, he did it, and every time, you were really grateful.

Once down, your entire crew formed a line, taking each others hands to make a collective bow. You were already holding Dante's, and reached with your other hand to Ruby, but to your surprise, Ruby completely dodged it and went to stand next to Dante on his other side. You were about to grin, your hopes at getting them together once more reviving, before Ruby looked at you and sent you a wink. You were puzzled for a second, until you felt your fingers being intertwined with someone else's, a warm, and, let's be honest, a bit of a clammy hand. Normally, your entire crew held hands with closer fingers, kind of a palm-to-palm thing, so this was a surprise. You were quick to turn your head, and looked straight into Sam's warm eyes. He flashed you a shy smile, and congratulated you on your performance. You smiled back, bowing down with the rest of your crew.

When you got home tonight, you wouldn't slip off your smile along with your costume, for you finally understood that you were just as worthy of a fairytale as all the princesses, goddesses and fairies you had played along the way.

[architectnews]

"Taking credit for trees planted elsewhere is a whole lot of embodied irony"

Architecture firm Perkins&Will has gone too far with claims that a luxury timber home on a Canadian mountain removes more atmospheric carbon than it emits, argues Fred A Bernstein.

For much of last winter, Perkins&Will, an architecture firm with 25 offices from San Francisco to Singapore to Sao Paulo, used a photo of a wooden house in British Columbia as one of the "hero images" on its website.

The house, which sits alone on a mountaintop overlooking the Soo Valley 90 miles north of Vancouver, is certainly beautiful, but the firm had other reasons for splashing it across its homepage. The 321-square-metre dwelling, known as the SoLo House, is meant to be a model of sustainability.

Entirely off the grid, it is designed to operate with power from 103 solar panels on its south facade, a 96-kilowatt-hour battery pack to store electricity for nights and cloudy days (both of which are frequent in British Columbia), and a hydrogen fuel cell for winter.

With all that equipment, the house may well be able to function without utility hook-ups. But Perkins&Will has made a far more surprising and audacious claim: that the building's structure is "beyond carbon neutral," meaning that it will remove more carbon from the atmosphere than it emitted in the first place.

It seemed to be giving its clients permission to build willy-nilly at a time of climate crisis

In a slickly produced video on the firm's website, Perkins&Will architect Alysia Baldwin says the house "proves that buildings can counteract their negative consequences and act as a source of repair."

People listen to Perkins&Will, a firm that has positioned itself as a leader in green building. "For nearly a quarter of a century, we've been at the vanguard of the sustainability movement," its website declares. Journalists have tended to repeat its claims.

But this time it had gone too far. By constructing a showplace of a house on an otherwise pristine mountaintop, and claiming it had helped the environment by doing so, it seemed to be giving its clients permission to build willy-nilly at a time of climate crisis.

Looking at SoLo House, with its cathedral ceilings, its comfortable sectional sofas and its giant picture windows, then listening to Perkins&Will claim that its structure reduces atmospheric carbon, I'm reminded of the old punchline: "Who are you going to believe – me, or your lying eyes?"

Reducing a building's contribution to atmospheric carbon means making it small, keeping it simple, building it near existing infrastructure, avoiding the need for heavy equipment such as batteries and fuel cells and using the lowest-embodied-energy building materials.

Reducing a building's contribution to atmospheric carbon means making it small

Perkins&Will, normally an excellent firm, has done those things on other projects. But with SoLo House, it seems not to have even tried.

According to experts, 40 per cent of atmospheric greenhouse gases come from buildings. Some emissions are attributable to running appliances and systems – so-called operational energy. The rest comes from the power needed to produce the building in the first place, known as embodied energy.

Incredibly, Perkins&Will is claiming there is "no embodied energy" in the house's structure (by which it means the elements that keep the building standing). To its credit, the firm answered requests for information promptly, providing facts, figures and charts prepared by Baldwin and her colleague Cillian Collins, a senior architect.

Here's how Baldwin and Collins arrived at their no-embodied-energy claim: First they estimated the amount of structural wood, steel and concrete in SoLo House. And then they turned to Athena Impact Estimator for Buildings, an app that approximates the amount of energy needed to produce given amounts of each building material and the amount of carbon released into the atmosphere as a result of that energy use.

Athena told them that producing the steel and concrete, harvesting the wood and so on in SoLo House released 122 tonnes of CO2 (sometimes called CO2e, for CO2 and its equivalents) into the atmosphere.

That should have been the beginning – not the end – of the process of calculating the building's embodied energy. There are hundreds of other items that needed to be counted. Start with the roof. The walls. The windows (a massive item, given the need for triple glazing). The solar panels, the batteries, the hydrogen fuel cells. The furniture. The appliances. The plumbing. The heating and cooling systems. Lots and lots of insulation.

The list goes on. Each of those items has significant embodied energy. Transporting all of those materials to a remote mountaintop site adds more.

Perkins&Will failed to account for those sources of embodied energy. Baldwin was clear, in a letter to me, that the calculations were limited to the structure. But why would anyone stop there? According to Baldwin, it's because structure "represents the largest contribution to a typical building's embodied carbon impacts."

It may also be because Athena only applies to structure. (Athena is meant primarily for comparing how the choice of a structural material affects a building's embodied energy. An architect might enter plans for the same building, once with a concrete frame and once with a steel frame, and see how the embodied carbon figures differ.)

Of course, there are other ways to estimate the house's total embodied energy; one method is to use an online tool called Tally, which provides information on the embodied energy of numerous building components. Counting everything isn't easy, but other firms have done it.

Perkins&Will had a way of making it vanish, if not from the atmosphere then from the balance sheet

Even so, according to Athena, the house emitted 122 tonnes of carbon into the atmosphere. That sounds like a lot of carbon, but Perkins&Will had a way of making it vanish, if not from the atmosphere then from the balance sheet.

Much of SoLo House is made of wood. Wood, like all plants, is produced by photosynthesis from ingredients that include carbon dioxide. Thus trees are said to store (or sequester) carbon. They do, but probably not as much as people think, as I learned by studying the question at length.

Here's Perkins&Will's theory: If you cut down a tree and use the wood as a building material, that carbon sequestered in that tree becomes part of the building. Then, if you plant a new tree in place of the one you cut down, the new tree will sequester additional carbon as it grows. Thus the process (cutting down one tree, planting another) results, net-net, in carbon being removed from the atmosphere.

There are so many problems with that theory it's hard to know where to begin. To name a few:

1) You have to be sure a new tree will be planted in place of the one you cut down; will get to be as big as the one you cut down; and will live a long, healthy life. (If a tree burns, or decomposes, as billions of trees do every year, its embodied carbon is released right into the atmosphere.)

2) You can't waste any of the wood. That's a problem because converting a tree into lumber usually turns half the wood into sawdust or chips, which could end up being burnt or allowed to decompose. This problem alone suggests carbon sequestration figures should be cut in half.

3) The wood has to stay in or on the building for a very long time. If the building needs repairs, and lumber is removed, it may be recycled, but it may also be burnt or allowed to decompose. And who'll be watching in 20 or 50 years?

4) Let's be honest: You could have planted the new tree somewhere else, and not cut down the first tree to begin with. For that reason, no number of trees excuses a wasteful building.

5) Even if the new trees do sequester carbon, the process will take decades. Scientists who study global warming warn of tipping points and thresholds, some of which could be reached within the next ten years. If new buildings help push atmospheric carbon levels to a point of no return, the sequestration accomplished by newly planted trees will be too little, too late.

6) It's a logical impossibility. If you really believe SoLo House repairs the atmosphere, all you have to do is build enough SoLo Houses and climate change will go away. Now for our next trick ...

No number of trees excuses a wasteful building

No wonder the theory is highly controversial. A whole lot of things have to happen just right for it to become a reality. As Baldwin wrote in an email: "We acknowledge that not all timber sources perform equally in the realm of embodied carbon reduction."

"Much of the embodied carbon reduction achieved by timber is directly attributed to sustainable forestry management practices that ensure forestry operations are carried out in a way that allows forests to remain healthy and viable for future generations," she added. "These practices include conservation and protection, land use planning, regulation of timber harvesting, establishing practices to ensure forest regrow, and continuous monitoring and reporting to government."

She went on to admit that the tool used to determine the building's sequestered carbon, WoodWorks Carbon Calculator, a product of the Washington-based Wood Products Council, considers "much of this storage to be temporary and therefore [does] not give the building a carbon credit for the carbon dioxide that will eventually be released from this wood some time down the road, through decay or incineration."

But that didn't stop the firm from banking on the theory when it performed its embodied energy calculation. Using the Carbon Calculator, it determined that the amount of lumber in the building would result in the removal – through the planting of new trees – of 145 tonnes of carbon from the atmosphere. That's a bit more than the 122 tonnes the firm says the building's timber, concrete, and steel released into the atmosphere.

Converting a tree into lumber usually turns half the wood into sawdust or chips

So in this case, reducing E (embodied carbon) by S (sequestered carbon) produces a negative number – minus 22 tonnes, meaning that building the house decreased the amount of carbon in the atmosphere. (Indeed, the house's owner, Delta Land Development, refers to it as "climate positive.")

Perkins & Will firm produced a chart to make this clear:

As Baldwin puts it, SoLo House "is able to store more carbon in its structure than was released during the production, manufacturing, and construction of the project."

That's a highly suspect statement. Based on everything I've learned, E (embodied energy) may be much greater than Perkins&Will says it is, and S (sequestered carbon) much lower.

In a letter responding to points in this article prior to publication, Perkins&Will wrote the following (the client, Delta Land Development, did not respond to requests for comment):

"Through careful selection of low embodied carbon and locally sourced materials, the project prioritized a mass timber structure. The design team used industry-accepted LCA [life cycle assessment] tools to quantify the carbon sequestration potential of the structure, and the timber structure is modelled to sequester 145 tonnes of CO2e as biogenic carbon."

Reusing/recycling is always the greenest strategy

"Structural elements typically represent the largest embodied carbon profile of [a] project, and as such, the structure was prioritized from an embodied carbon perspective."

"As designers, we rely on reputable industry tools to estimate the impact of projects. We used the Athena Impact Estimator for Buildings to complete this assessment. Athena uses ongoing research by the Athena Institute and complies with ISO 14040 (environmental management, life cycle assessment, and principles and framework) and ISO 14044 (environmental management, life cycle assessment, and requirements and guidelines)."

"Per our previous correspondence, we shared the Athena Institute's definition of biogenic sequestered carbon, which considers the whole life cycle of the material, including extraction, manufacturing, forms of transportation, installation, repair and maintenance, and end of life (assuming reuse of the wood)."

However, if Perkins and Will had really wanted to reduce embodied carbon, it would have thought about some of these strategies:

1) Putting the house in an easily accessible location, thus cutting out hundreds or thousands of trips by delivery people and construction workers. (Perkins&Will points out "that the wood was sourced from within British Columbia, and the building panels were manufactured in Pemberton, BC, which is located 30 minutes from the site.")

2) Renovating an existing house. Reusing/recycling is always the greenest strategy. Renovation typically generates 50 to 75 per cent less atmospheric carbon than new construction.

3) Choosing a site where there are no trees to cut down. According to Perkins&Will, "A clearing was required for a driveway, solar access, and fire protection. It required harvesting 180m³ of second-growth hemlock timber. This wood was put into the BC forestry chain, becoming useful lumber." Taking credit for sequestration by trees that may have been planted elsewhere, while cutting down enough trees on site to fill a five-meter by six-meter by six-meter container, is a whole lot of embodied irony.

4) Making the house a lot smaller. When it comes to saving energy, less is definitely more.

5) Choosing versions of steel and concrete with the lowest embodied energy (a lot of research is being done on ways of making those materials less "carbon-intensive").

Perkins&Will appears not to have done these things — the actual work required to reduce carbon emissions. The danger is that people will believe its claims.

Fred A Bernstein studied architecture at Princeton and law at NYU and writes about both subjects. He has published articles about embodied energy – a significant component of the climate crisis – in Oculus (a primer), in Architect Magazine (an admonition to architecture critics) and in the Architect's Newspaper (a warning that efforts to make buildings resilient are often detrimental from an embodied energy standpoint).

Carbon revolution

This article is part of Dezeen's carbon revolution series, which explores how this miracle material could be removed from the atmosphere and put to use on earth. Read all the content at: www.dezeen.com/carbon.

The sky photograph used in the carbon revolution graphic is by Taylor van Riper via Unsplash.

The post "Taking credit for trees planted elsewhere is a whole lot of embodied irony" appeared first on Dezeen.

[welcometomy20s]

March 31, 2021

.Hololive Quarterly Report

I was trying to write this, then it became painfully too long, so I stopped and I’m going to try a much abbreviated version. I don’t why I’m writing this preamble.

Usada Constructions - Buy

CEO Pekora has come back from the creative crisis in late January, her response to the Akukin relay, Pekoland has been quite the success, and Pekora has hired three new people and taken two into actual production, and there has been talks of two more recruitments. Usada constructions has been the premier revenue maker in the server already and with renewed vigor, Pekora has inadvertently cornered the service industry, with her business associate Moon, making the HoloID mall, and hiring Botan or Menya Botan and Kiara of KFP in the process, and thinking hiring Watame, which has a food delivery service.

Future is looking bright for UsaKen and one should buy the stocks now.

Akukin Constructions - Sell

Akukin has a bright start with the recent hiring spree then the wildly successful AKukin Building Relay... and boasting 25% of the workforce in their wake. But CEO has been hampered with failure of her personal projects, first with her loss in the Mario Kart tournament, and then her failure to get the elusive solo Master in Apex. Perhaps, buoyed by her failure, she’ll return to Minecraft, but for now... there has been minor outing of the employers.

Both Mio and Marine went on Minecraft once after the relay, Marine to push Kanata to make her noteblock machines, and Mio in basically upkeep. Rest of the players have been quiet or have been associated with other people. Roboco have played once of twice, although she didn’t even participated in the relay. Choco has been mostly working as a broker for Flare, who is a contractor for Akukin. Lamy and Nene has been basically doing their own thing, mostly since they haven’t had anything else to do... and that’s it, I believe. Iofi, Mel, and Akirose never returned to Minecraft after the relay.

Well, Shion returned after four months with Rushia as the guide... but seriously, Akukin is all but over unless there is a serious reorganization. Sell them!

Shirauni-Elite Conglomerate - Buy

This is outside of current consensus, but it makes for me because it fits the current state of things. Miko and Flare first found their calling by basically gaslighting Kanata into operating a school. They have sense collaborated many times, Flare being part of the four heavenly kings and expanding their partnership in the urban environment, more specifically in Los Santos.

Flare’s turn in Minecraft basically leads me to reassess Flare’s strengths. Flare was kind of the straight man of the 3rd Gen, but she has shown that she could be as wild and unpredictable as the rest of the Hololive Fantasy. Flare eventually roped Polka into an apprenticeship, and Polka’s ability to pop into the most unexpected direction really helped with Flare’s stream as well.

Flare is having the time of her life, and her lover Noel has finally turn the tide on her devastating decline due to the great ASMR purge in early 2020, by embracing the English duolingo... finally passing up people, after falling so far.

Yeah, you should buy here. Although Miko’s recent pause is little worrisome...

Oozora Constructions - Hold

Subaru has been doing a lot of work... her biggest strength has been her free talks, she is a great storyteller, but that’s obviously hampered by language, which is why Subaru made the difficult move of having English summary in her topics, which is a great improvement for her... but her collabs have been on fire, and I mean Oozora Police was just amazing, with good timing as well.

Apparently Subaru has a new costumes, collabs, and original songs coming up in the next quarter, so Subaru is going to surpass already high expectation made during this quarter. As for her company though... well, Subaru has been a... lone duck in the situation. (Sorry for the pun)

Famously outcasted as Kanata and Marine were chatting up with Moona and Reine, Subaru has been lonely for quite sometime. Subaru has been working an actual commission from Korone, although Korone is most inconsiderate Hololive member (as evidenced by two consecutive Kuukiyomi tests), which is a bad sign. Rushia has been working well, both independently and with Subaru... now Luna... that’s the cinch of the situation at this moment.

I’ll talk about Luna later, but overall Oozora has its strength and weakness perfectly balanced. It’s a hold for me, although it can be a buy quickly...

Haachama Constructions - Buy

Haachama started off kind of lost. She recently moved back to Japan, and she didn’t really knew what direction to go off on... apparently a horror unfiction was her choice. It is a great unfiction, in all its spirit, the meta-component worked perfectly, the improvisational and interactivity was unparalleled, it is astounding that this a one-woman production, since even a dedicated team might not pull off this feat, taking images made minutes before the stream is due and incorporating them into the story flawlessly.

Akai Haato always impressed me, but this arc showcased that to everyone. And her future seems to be bright as she starts working on Season 2. Just buy!

OkaKoro Constructions - Hold

Both Okayu and Korone has been steady in their output, minimal collabs and continuing their series of old games. Korone has been particularly clever in her selection of games. Everyone playing Undertale, why not play the game that inspired the whole thing, Earthbound? People are playing Dragon Quest? Well, how about a classic version, Dragon Quest 3, instead of 11S?

But other than that, there wasn’t much going on... then the OkaKore anniversary concert happened, and I realized they still have so much progress. One commenter said how Bloom was a failure because there wasn’t any idols in that list, namely Watame, Okayu and Korone, and I started to agree.

But that’s just one performance, we don’t know if this would be foundation for something better. So let’s hold on the papers for now.

Kureiji Constructions - Hold

There’s always a bit of anxiety when one is lauded as the next new star, least to me, I was always anxious about Ollie’s growth. She could be great, she has plenty of talent, she’s a massive simp and a social collaborator, but her personality can turn on a dime if not careful. Fortunately, Ollie made good on herself, having one of the more explosive growth and becomes generally accepted as a peer, recently doing a large Mario Kart collab.

It’s still a hold, since I have residual anxiety, but this is a good stable company.

Seiso Pillars - Buy

I never really got the appeal on Sora, until she put on her glasses on. Her movement was so fluid and practiced, you can tell she’s a young lady with ambition, which is contrary to the goddess image. Azki has been making the move that Suisei did in end of 2019, slowly putting herself in the comedic spirit of rest of Hololive, and her Vtuber showcase is freaking phenomenal.

Suisei has been flirting with the pillar in Minecraft, and bring the third of HoloKazo(?) in Los Santos, letting her psychopathic side fully. Suisei used her arbitrary demonitization to her advantage, reinvigorating her streams immensely. I thought about holding, but honestly this is a buy. They are going to get better.

Shirakami Forestry - Hold

Fubuki wanted to finish her cherry tree by spring. Well, that didn’t happen. But Fubuki has been doing okay. Fubuki has made some radical moves this year, firmly associating with Coco. Remember that Fubuki’s explosive growth was due to Chinese fans, and this is true of Aqua as well (which is why Aqua has been more distant lately), so to associate with one of the most hated Vtubers by the ‘West Taiwanese’ is a risk, but one made with the knowledge that her base can be shifted, since this did not impact her growth at all.

So Fubuki is going to be Fubuki, no matter who she associates with. Hold.

Free Agents - ???

Matsuri might be the most valuable free agent, but she’s kind of like a public official, helping to keep stock on the commons, and helping Luna as well. This is why Luna is the kingmaker. Luna has connections with both Subaru and Matsuri, but their connection is either loose or non-associative. She can be convinced, but she could easily refuse... and who knows how that would affect Pekora.

Most people thought Matsuri was going to join UsaKen, and that might still be the case, although Pekora is notoriously uncomfortable of senpais.

Risu is next valued player. After her explosion in the 4th quarter, Risu has been struggling to keep afloat, although Risu seems to be fine with her laggard growth. Her impromptu Nier;Automata streams are always a delight, and her Spring soundboard has been fun as well. Risu also returned to Minecraft for a bit, so she might be on the hunt... she would be a great addition to UsaKen.

Ayame is the third player. Ayame has been inconsistent this quarter, mostly since she streams the least amount out of anyone. Her recent collab with Marine was something though, although that’s going to be paused for a bit.

Anya is the last person, just because she doesn’t have Minecraft and she is the least subscribed member. I think it was surprising how Anya’s stream has been. Instead of doing gatcha and perhaps talking stream, her game selections has been far off the beaten path, more so than Korone and Okayu, and she has been blazing (that’s another pun) her own trail much to her detriment.

I mean she’s fine in the grand scope of things, still very interesting move.

Okay, that was the short version, and even then it’s really long so... yeah.

[hullomoon]

Transcription of speech provided by @cafetropical

I wanted to first acknowledge and send love and support to the trans community and everyone who marched today at the trans march in Washington. [applause] There is an epidemic of murders of black trans women, this is a crisis that needs to be seen and heard and acknowledged by the highest levels of power and influence in this country and around the world. 

 [applause] 

I wanna start by thanking my friends and brilliant castmates who came and did this for me for their beautiful words, um, I’m beyond touched, I really am. Even if those words and their appearance here tonight were built into their Schitt's Creek contracts. By me. Nevertheless, I am thrilled to be up here to be accepting this award in your contractually obligated company. In all seriousness, I love you all very much and thank you so much for doing this for me, I don't… this is tough. I am very honored to have you all up here tonight. 

 Noah, thank you so much for the character of Patrick and bringing him to life with such heart and skill and compassion. 

I want to thank GLAAD and Sarah Kate Ellis for this incredible honor, um, we’re Canadian so we don't accept things like this well.Standing up here, it's hard not to think back to a very specific time in my life when I was still in the closet. I was in high school, I had a bad faux hawk because the first Mission Impossible movie had come out and I thought Tom Cruise was a real drink of water. Um, when I was falling in love with my best friend and instead of being able to do anything about it, I watched him fall in love with someone else because I didn't have the courage to act publicly on my feelings. Thinking back to those formative days where I was missing out on all the good stuff because I was walking around with an invisible raincloud over my head, smiling through the heartbreak so as to avoid anyone asking me what was wrong, because I didn't have the strength to tell them. I think back to the bullying, the name-calling, the shoving, the side-eyes, a guy in math class calling me a faggot but then also telling my two straight girlfriends that they were lesbians because we went to Lilith Fair and that we all probably had sex with each other on weekends, to which I replied “that theory has some serious logistical flaws”… doesn't make sense. 

I think back to that time where I legitimately thought I would have to live with this secret - my being gay - for the rest of my life because I didn't have the security of seeing a lot of people like myself being celebrated in popular culture. 

I bring this up because when I was told I would be receiving this honor, I went back to that place and asked myself how did I get here, to this place, standing in front of all of you tonight, an out and proud gay Emmy loser. 

And the answer was a three-parter.

I was supported by my friends, at the time a group of very strong, funny, dazzling young women, who were the keepers of my secret and the protectors of my soul. Never letting the threat of high school boys who didn't know how to process my closeted gayness affect my happiness. 

I was encouraged by my high school English teacher who, one day after reading a long-form poem I submitted in lieu of an essay - partly because I didn't read the book and partly because my brain has a hard time following the rules - told me that there was something special in my writing and that I should I think about pursuing it. Up until that point, I hadn't even thought about being a writer. 

And lastly, I was loved. I was lucky to have a family that supported me fiercely and unconditionally when I needed it the most. When I came out at 18, and my sister Sarah is here tonight, so… 

I didn't wanna cry, again, one bread roll for an entire day, it's not okay. 

Had I not had the support to build my courage, had I not been encouraged enough to find my strength, had I not had the love to give me a sense of security, I don't know if I would've found my way out of the closet, let alone create the opportunity for myself to tell stories on television that have effected some kind of positive change in the world. 

Support, encouragement, and love. Three relatively simple acts of kindness that can change the course of a person’s life, and yet for so many members of our beautiful community, those simple transformation acts of kindness aren't just an arms reach away. Almost three-quarters of LGBT youths say they are more honest about themselves online than in the real world. 

A national study found that 40% of transgender adults have reported having made a suicide attempt. 92% of those individuals said it happened before the age of 25. 

The statistics are staggering and seemingly endless, which is why when I found myself in a position to tell stories on a global scale, I seized the opportunity to make a television show that might,  in its own way, offer some support, encouragement, and love to those who might not have it in their homes, in their schools, or in their day-to-day lives. It was… [applause] it was a small way of paying back the generosity that had been shown to me, while at the same time, creating space on television for queer characters that I could relate to. 

The result was Schitt’s Creek. A place where everybody fits in. A place where love is celebrated and people’s differences are a reason to start a conversation, not end one. It’s a place where my character David, a pansexual man with really intense pants and sweaters, can fall in love with his now fiancé Patrick, a gay man, without fear of consequence. It’s a place where acceptance incubates joy and creates a clarity that allows people to see themselves and each other more deeply. It’s fiction, yes, but I've always been told to lead by example and this felt like a good place to start. 

[applause]    

So, thank you to GLAAD for this vote of confidence, for validating the idea that entertainment can affect positive change. I promise to continue to do my part in celebrating this radiant community in all the work that I do, big and small, and honoring the incredible work that GLAAD does on a daily basis. 

On that note, I would like to raise a glass to all of you for coming out here tonight and supporting, and encouraging, and loving this organization that does just that for so many people. This is a night I won't forget, thank you so much. 

[applause] 

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 23

1. Substitute day, and a return unto A sender of something, as to another place, That hasn't the wherewithal to get there either; I will open it again and learn That which is already known to be such As isn't so much.

2. And it's not mine, but a, And is the right way round. For as I set the seasons, I reprise, reply, replay; It's substitution day.

3. And Sabbath is the seventh, Whence the lord, in all thy dwellings, Is up for doing nothing; Or Sabbath is the sixth; I don't care.

4. And welcome to my channel, It's great to have each of you still with me- A man who speaks of people By their purpose, Himself as his own singer, With- such are the seasons, Even, holy convocations, For want to be sure of a constant, It's Senhal, An obscure term For an old friend.

5. Love, love, lo, this is not Of a cloven love, Leviticus, I will speak of it Unto sundry strangers and neighbours, As just one more month's dusk Then it'll be passover, Not once. Not twice, Not once. Love. So we can still imagine a time When all of this will go again;

6. But a day will approach When, if there is something That can look back, Could think that 'here' and 'then' Are really very close;- And I wonder if they saw The strings of direct attachment, Lining their behaviours; Just flour and water, But I don't think so; Still, anytime was closer to history than this one, So what do I know?

7. If I were to put the onus On to the impossible, Then what was light-hearted and playful, Would be wont to become ridden and surly; Lord, being an influencer is a serious endeavour, For how many unsuccessful oblations are there That are out there? Lo, state your appreciation; Don’t just wing it. Plan it out in kalends, Of which are reckon'd to be backwards; so, To start, do nothing.

8. After a week, Let's go- Gift your influencers' grift, For, when you so do this, It strokes the ego of the flames, Who then add unto the savour of sacrifice, Thus, get me it up; Make it smolder, Then, use its fatal nature To activate the future.

9. And simple: These are nacks, To muster control Over gods; Are junk and have been; That we all have interest vested- Let ignorance of it control Hereafter, same, so anon and amen.

10. Crowdsplain- First fruit the priest Hard and long, Find the tunnels, Writing what's impossible For the brain to conceive, That it may then be read back of, To supplant and supersede; So become possible.

11. And thither, the Wheatchief Will wave the sheaf Tomorrow- See how it goes? Ol' Cathode Ray, and Non-mathmatical aesthetic identities, The spirit of the radio take her.

12. That once the sheaf And all the while Be specific unto thy niche- Nativize unto thy platform, For, the experience shall follow The rhyzome's swerve and function, So that the user-expectation be wrought From whence the contents be placed- In this case, Add in a lamb shank ponzi scheme to my platform; Smells wonderful.

13. So unto the titular character, Exerting such low level leverage as Begetteth me of an ephah cake, And a quarter hin of wine; I don't need the free stuff, I am a successful influencer, But shouldst you want me to advertise for suckers On my platform that I have built myself for free; Well, we're all getting along so good.

14. Then it's me first, And simple: see- That our boldest endeavours, And most exciting adventures- They have not yet even begun; That, in spite of all the detritus, In the teeth of all that we've done, my boys, I tell you: The best Is yet To come.

15. Then, 49 days later, Seek whence Thought might come in sequence, And I'm really so blessed and thankful to you all for being here; So, as thought comes  in sequence And thus, it wasn't known where We are going here as we begun. O tensions, retensions- I use to used to run.

16.  Know, influencers, I am the hype; So on-brand that I can give unto you, And through you, the trick- Pyramid that still stands For the thousands- Round it up; So nice.

17. And, super relevant- Optimize continuously, also, Compensate me handsomely; while Sacrifice may seem like a quick-success marketing strategy, It isn’t so. Such are the things that keep not happening; More food please.

18. Lots more, This is why the burden of proof for rhetorical claim Shall falleth shortly As among the Open Wounde who should maketh of such a claim; It is not upon the world to provide him a fallacy, But he, who's to prove the world its truth; which, Across all channels, He, rerewise, hath been completely unable to do.

19. So suffer him his own precarity; And then some; Think back to when, Twirrup twipip,-pwiwip, Suwee, psu, swoo swsoo, So sweepeth they in song, As we, quiet, Through our blossom comedown, That hideth our tiny singers, And the bulgence behind the wiltage, In the verges, Be of burgeoning seed.

20. And everyone wave; All this- so good as is it to be; And though under a hail Of black tormentors, Our torment, And through its over-drone, With no one remembering it happening, But, who'll remember the photograph?

21. Sit back; You've lost everything, So lo, olah, you remember how mother died- Bringing cow parsley into the tent of meaning; For she went by the umbels as we'd walked on the plain, And they had reminded her of those lace cushions That her ladies-in-waiting had carried, And so gave them the name.

22. Embassadors, Leave thy corners to disillusion; A true influencer ideally keeps doing What they genuinely gain of a passion for. They know their value and their need is not to shew it, So spend a lot of time reading news and sharing opinions with others online. By buying-up dozens of potential plots, They help to plot the exodus to less, And stake an astronaut over the shape of a woman. But politics isn’t about the weird worship of one dude, So his words became their actions.

23.  Is it worth your time To try and ignore that, if, What you are listening to Is  the most effective form of advertising- A babbling of a technique That hath impostulated language, Then, should things go well, We may even be able to rend a cross-paracleation With phantom trust-collaborators, Interested in guest-posting for backlinks and exposure, Thus, marrying into micro-influencers, And so tap into our y.

24. But be consistent: For my favourite casts come out the same- Here, crowdplain how a seventh month is a Sound the trumpet month; See how it goes? Lo, but half of me struggles with the whimsy Of the other side that's yet so entranced; No, I'm not sure why, it's just the way I feel.

25. Down tools, more please. Gnaw your own head off. All things positivity- and It is always negotiation; Not: You bring it to the tabernacle, I sing- There is no shortness of spirit In opinion To be cut down. Equal positives, so unto Those things that keep not happening.

26. There are voices you hear of, As quoted as begetters of insightful opinion, Who art themselves never made extant, Being only reported hereto as sources, And lo, that they are the influencers. And I'm super curious as to know what you guys think; Please be sure to leave your comments amid the margins.

27. Thence, afflict thy souls, For, tis atonement day- We're ten into the seventh, And the snap's back when I was An offensive lineman, And the pass sent over- The big lie, long, long to the long deceiver, Ah, burnt offerings- How original, Best look unto the analytics, And if they give you not access there unto , Verily, you are going to have to fight, Fight as peaceful as Sheol, Down, deep down and dirty- I'm not going to call it off.

28. Down tools; Atone to the dial tone, No one calls; Let Ladder Capital Createth of the sponsored post- Like many on the medium, To use an ode- I used to play the role; To laugh and laugh; Laugh til I despised all there was to laugh at, And then I stopped, And in the silence, saw what I had done.

29. But laughing is not so bad.

We've been a good wee band. Yes we have. No one is coming after us. And if you're alright, mack, You'll get cut off.

30. So workers got destroyed That day, And Aaron was frustrated, And livid. Reach round; Feel thy spine. The way people stop you From being helpful When you are helpful, So that you cannot be helpful, So that they can cut you From your people.

31. Tardiness in perpetuity, Aye, today, it is Yplangenday- Well, I'll have to put myself Through some more adamantine Paces than god allows, else I'll never get enough done.

32. And be bold, For, you'll need to deracinate; Chancers are toxic vocations Within the tent of meaning; It's content; it's all content- Divide and game, so- Focus and grow. I mean to make sure That you are a consistent- Start of the ninth evening , End of the next.

33. God doesn't eat though, That I can see- For all that we give him, God doesn't eat.

34. Crowd, 15/7, and tabernacle feast week; Still his words became their actions, Shrill, until the doctrine of laches, When the searched-after Faithless elector went libertarian, Like many on the medium, Clade unto such bolled and novel obstacles What stretched where chance was slim, And slim was still in quarantine.

35. To start again, down tools, For, lo, if you want to be in a prison camp, You needst allow yourself the luxury Of being stupid enough to get captured.

36. Sacrifice? Spluttereth the LORD: But I'm fed up with so much burnt rubbish, I wish for forced fresh rhubarb, So shunt and jive; I've Optimized, and optimize continuously.

37. Drinks break; take life indicting, Gratify all at a local craven hire scheme, Go abroad singing, so merrylike, To slough off the whole As one enormous rhyzome. Deus Hic! God is drunk! I heard that, Brian Leg-Coverall.

38. O well done Jehus, And good to be with you, Yes you, Who are good in a crisis; A reminder- I'm working with mischief.

39. Wait, rest again, To live is to live through An embarrassment of times, Damarkated as meaningful riches, That will not be well remembered. Really, I am so blessed.

40. But try to ask of a question; So that thy congregation Might make communion in answer, See how it goes? Say, But why, isn't it A bit like palm sunday? The stream changeth its name As it passeth through each neighbourhood. I knew it as; Well it doesn't matter- You're not reposting, nor liking my banal repartee, So, unfollow.

41. And it goes; for I have giv'n unto them a scapegoat, But they cast it not out; So shall there be a reaving that will follow, and Themselves, they shall be cut off from.

42. Then all ye home-born booth dwellers In dwelling booths, Shall dwell in booths seven days and know That you are living in the rhyzome..

43. And everyone will know that I made you do this- The old booth dwellers, needing my rescue out of Egypt, So weakened,  the Open Wounde stayeth open; And remember to tell us what you think, Way down, deep down, down in the margins.

44. And Mose went about with the crowdsplaining Old loud-haler; A simple fellow out of storybook glen, From the tent of meaning, From the twilight men, He ran and told- And the thing is, They were too clever To not know what they were doing- So the target becomes bios; Is the common psychle, The answer- How would you like it? Is - 'I didn't'. And that therein has a hold and salience, As before tends to be the best time to regret- It is a kind of nonsense. I'm so merry

I'm so merry and sad.

[1949coupe]

Social Security Works

Expanding Social Security is critical for millennials and small business owners—and especially for millennial small business owners.

We don’t talk about this often, but even as a small but mighty non-profit, Social Security Works is regulated as a small business. That means our employees get health care through DC’s health care exchange. Several of those employees, including me, are millennials.

As a small business owner and someone with years of expertise on Social Security, I get a little steamed when Republicans use small businesses and millennials to beat up on expanding Social Security.

The Social Security 2100 Act expands Social Security and ensures that all benefits can be paid in full and on time into the 22nd century. But Republicans, led by Rep. Kevin Brady (R-Texas), are attacking the bill in predictable fashion: Manipulating numbers in an attempt to foment generational warfare and undermine all of our economic security, falsely claiming that this wise legislation will hurt millennials and small business owners.

The Social Security 2100 Act increases Social Security benefits for everyone, fixes the formula for yearly cost-of-living-adjustments so that it reflects the real expenses beneficiaries face and raises Social Security’s minimum benefit to 125 percent of the poverty level. It also ensures that Social Security remains strong for current and future generations, into the 22nd century.

As an employer, I am worried about increasing costs—especially health care, which gets more expensive every year. But I am not at all worried about the modest, predictable and gradual payroll contribution increase called for in the Social Security 2100 Act.

I am much more worried about the costs we will face if the looming retirement income crisis isn’t addressed.

Even decades ago, when large corporations offered traditional pensions, small businesses did not have the resources to do the same. Now even the largest corporations have substituted 401(k) plans, which have proven totally inadequate for all but the wealthiest owners and employees. Consequently, Social Security retirement benefits will be even more important to millennials and all the generations that follow.

The Social Security 2100 Act funds itself in two ways: Firstly, it gradually phases out the cap on payroll contributions, so that the millionaires and billionaires pay into Social Security at the same rate as the rest of us. Secondly, the Social Security contribution rate for all workers and employers is very gradually increased from 6.2% to 7.4%. This increase is phased in over the course of 24 years and amounts to an annual increase of just 50 cents a week for a worker earning $50,000. For a worker making the current Federal minimum wage, it’s considerably less—14.5 cents a week.

The Social Security 2100 Act is a great deal for millennials. Stephen C. Goss, Chief Actuary of the Social Security Administration, broke down the numbers at a recent Ways and Means Committee Hearing on the bill.1 If the Social Security 2100 Act were enacted this year, someone turning 29 today would pay about $15,000 more towards Social Security over the course of their career (as would their employer). In return, if they retire at age 66, they’ll get over $80,000 more in retirement benefits than they would if this law was not enacted.

We’re building a movement to expand our Social Security system.

Of course, Social Security includes other critical protections for workers in addition to retirement benefits. If that 29-year-old became disabled or died leaving dependents, their Social Security disability benefits or their family’s Social Security survivors’ benefits would also be considerably higher than they would be without the Social Security 2100 Act.

Millennials should also bear in mind that the Social Security Administration projects that average wages will be more than 25 percent higher in 2035 than they are today. The modest payroll contribution increases in the Social Security 2100 Act will be negligible relative to wage gains, so long as we enact policies that ensure those wage gains are evenly distributed.

The Social Security 2100 Act is well designed for small business owners. As we mentioned, the payroll contribution increase is phased in extremely gradually over nearly a quarter-century, giving businesses more than enough time to plan. We’re more than happy to contribute a little more to ensure our workers have adequate retirement, life, and disability insurance.

Republicans don’t actually care about helping millennials or small businesses with retirement security—or anything else. In fact, the only Social Security bill the Republicans have put forward recently would drastically cut everyone’s benefits. The younger you are, the bigger the cuts would be.2

Their supposed concern for young people and small business owners is a smokescreen to disguise their actual objective which hasn’t changed in 84 years, since the enactment of Social Security. That is to reach their hands into our pockets and steal our earned benefits, to dismantle the Social Security system and sell it off piece by piece.

A recent Wall Street Journal op-ed,3 in which two Republicans (one of whom Donald Trump recently tried to nominate to the Federal Reserve Board) attempt to resurrect the zombie idea of privatizing Social Security, is extremely telling.

Republicans want to destroy Social Security so they can turn your money over to their billionaire friends on Wall Street. It’s no surprise then that the Social Security 2100 Act, which protects and expands Social Security while requiring the wealthy to pay the same rate as the rest of us, is anathema to them. They’re just lying about the real reason why.

We’re fighting back. Stand with us today!

Thanks,

Alex Lawson Social Security Works

[bobasheebaby]

100 Boy Meets World Prompts

Cory

1 “And I just want to ask one thing: What's this?” “No, NAME, we were just --“ “Undapants!”

2 “They want you to take the rolls!”

3 “Please pay at the register, honey. And tipping is not a city in China.”

4 “NAME, you're trying to seduce me.”

5 “No, I don't get hit by a bus.” “Why not?” “Because I use the crosswalks, I memorize the bus schedules, and if I've got a husband/wife like NAME, I ain't leavin' the house.”

6 “NAME, just face it, you're afraid to make a commitment.” “I'm not afraid to make a commit -- I've been with NAME for fifteen years!” “Ah, they've been good years.”

7 “Wait, is this you or NAME talking?” “He/She decided we're one person.”

8 “This is raw, hot, unfiltered passion, and that kiss opened the gates.” “There are no gates.” “Oh, there's gates.”

9 “You were one of those kids that enjoy getting spanked, weren't you?” “I always deserved it.”

10 “But I've never failed before.” “There's a first time for everything.” “That argument doesn't get you anywhere with him/her.”

11 “You're not my father/mother, NAME.” “If I were your father/mother, I'd spank you, NAME. Because that's what you deserve. A big spanking! Now take down your pants.

12 “How could you possibly get into this much trouble in one day?” “It didn't take me the whole day.”

13 “It's us against him/her. Living on the edge, babe.” “I like when you call me babe.”

14 “Maybe I'm dreaming. Pinch me! ... Not on the butt.” “Sorry, it was just right there.”

15 “Gee, NAME, I'm looking around the room trying to see if anyone asked your opinion. I don't see anyone. Is anyone? No?”

16 “Did you hear how I referred to myself in the third person for emphasis?” “I thought that was a nice touch.” “NAME did too.”

17 “Finally someone understands my particular genuis.”

18 “First of all, there is a Whipped Magazine. I didn't subscribe; somehow they found me.”

19 “You know, you're a very sexy boy/girl, NAME.” “Really? I'm a sexy boy/girl. Thanks. I can't wait to tell NAME.”

20 “I'm in! Those idiots let me in.”

21 “Well I am shocked and dismayed.” “Well now you can't be both. You be shocked, I'll be dismayed.”

22 “Wear something of mine. What do you want, a jacket or a hat?” “A jacket. I'm very prone to hat head. Sometimes I get it without even wearing a hat.”

23 “So how was your weekend?” “Ah, one of the all time greats. I slept in, I watched TV, I played video games. And Sunday I took it easy.”

24 “I'm supposed to see other people. You're supposed to wait until I die.”

25 “This is so great. I wish NAME was here.”

Shawn

26 “Use a mirror, babe.”

27 “You know, NAME, NAME said something interesting before that got me thinking.” “Wait a minute. NAME got you thinking?” “He/She seemed well rested.”

28 “You listened to NAME.” “Oh my God, I listened to NAME.”

29 “I mean, NAME, you're much cooler than I am. At least I thought you were.” “Trust me, I am.”

30 “Hey, if I had things my way, NAME would walk in the day after the honeymoon and have the whole thing annulled.”

31 “You know, I'd give up on them but I don't think they'd notice.” “What?”

32 “He’s/She's your ex. Let me spell that for you, X.”

33 “Please get out and don't ever come back.”

34 “Yeah, so it's like you're a couple and we're a couple, and we're exactly the same except that --“ “You're married and we're happy.”

35 “Well what kind of stupid thing was it for you to care whether I put you back together again? What are you, Humpty Dumpty?”

36 “I hate myself.” “You're not alone.”

37 “NAME, his/her lover.” “Oh, very tasteful honey. Did you hear that, NAME?” “NAME, his/her lover.” “Oh, shut up Yoko.”

38 “You're a disgrace to the entire back row.”

39 “You don't think I'm a geek?” “Of course not.” “You think I'm cool?” “Of course not.”

40 “You're thinking too much. Do what I do, don't think.”

41 “You sure that's three cheeses? Because I only see two. Where's the Gouda, pal?”

42 “Don't move. Maybe he/she doesn't see us.

43 “Oh, man, I gotta do something now. Think.” “You gotta think, NAME.” “Ow.” “Thinking cramp?” “Yeah.” “I get those, too.”

44 “Look, NAME, I've been doing some thinking. Ow!”

45 “We have to come up with a plan.” “You know that's so crazy it just may work.” “What may work?” “The plan.” “I didn't tell you what it was.” “That way they can't get it out of me.” “Get what out of you?” “Nice try.”

Topanga

46 “We've waited for this moment all our lives. What are you thinking?” “I can't believe NAME’s not here.” “I love you too.”

47 “NAME!” “Oh, no.” “Oh, don't you run away from me, you old goat.”

48 “NAME. My dear little butt-head. May I call you butt-head?” “Sure.”

49 “I don't want to offend any one and my family's feelings are the most important thing to me. But if she thought I was getting married in that freaking monstrosity, she must have been hitting the sauce.”

50 “Have you looked at him/her?” “Okay, so he’s/she's pretty, he’s/she's tall, he/she drives a new red convertible. Oh heck, I'd go out with him/her.”

51 “NAME, you transparent moron. If you sigh one more time, I'm going to give you something to sigh about.”

52 “You know I could take you.” “You don't want to dance with me, boy/girl.” “You don't see me running, do you?” “Bring it on, NAME.” “It's on.”

53 “That's it. That's it, I've had it! I don't want to put the Sweet & Lo in my purse.”

Eric

54 “Hey, little bro/sis. Life's tough, get a helmet.”

55 “So I said to myself, NOT THEIR NAME --“ “NOT THEIR NAME?” “That's what I call myself.”

56 “I'll do it. I'm the oldest.” “Actually, I'm the oldest.” “Yeah, but I've lived the longest.”

57 “I don't know what's going to happen to me. But I know I'm gonna be a good person who cares about people. And I blame you for that.”

58 “I sort of thought you guys would keep my room the way it is.” “Actually, NICKNAME, for that I think you have to be unexpectedly killed by a truck or something.”

59 “What are you going to do when your hair grows back?” “It's not going to grow back. I got my receipt!”

60 “I'm dead.” “I'm dead.” “I'll get as sick as you can get without actually dying.”

61 “NAME, one word: You're with me.”

62 “NAME, I think he’s/she's a witch. And not a good witch like Glinda, a bad witch like with the monkeys.”

63 “NAME, what are you doing to me? We had a deal. You and FRIEND are so perfect for each other you should be married!” “I'm not ready.”

64 “Oh, look at that. You wobble like a weeble!”

65 “Don't you see what you're going through? This is your middle east crisis.” “Middle age crisis.”

66 “Of all the nights to fight, I mean Halloween, this is the one holiday that's supposed to bring loved ones together.”

67 “How can I let it go when it haunts my very thought?”

68 “By the way, that last paper you wrote, I couldn't stop thinking about it.” “That's because it was smut! ‘My lips quivered.’ -- it was filth. It was screamy filth.”

69 “You can't do that, NAME.” “Why are you calling me NAME?” “Because that's your human name.”

70 “Stay out of this, NAME, it's a one man/woman mission. ... Will you help me?”

Mr. Feeny

71 “Don't you mean ‘do well’?” “No, I mean do good.”

72 “You are the worst babysitter that ever lived.” “And your children are the spawn of Satan.”

73 “I was expecting you. Today, tomorrow, yesterday. It was only a matter of time.”

74 “How are we supposed to get home?” “Wait 'til it's dark. Then run, very quickly.”

75 “You're still moving away? Ah, for the love of Mike, stop with the mind games, man.” “You know this is the reason I can't sell my house.”

76 “I know my man/woman.” “It's like we have one brain.” “Yes, well. That's too easy.”

77 “Ho, ho. Is that the stupid idea train coming 'round the bend?”

78 “Oh, I think you're much more stupid than you give yourselves credit for.”

79 “Well, since you're not set on a name for the baby, I, myself, have always been partial to THEIR NAME.”

80 “I'm not responsible for Dream THEIR NAME!”

81 “For years I've seen you give advice to everybody, but never me. Why is that?!” “You don't ask.”

82 “The guy on our couch eating our beer nuts.” “Mmm, nutty.”

83 “Wait a minute. Maybe we should all just think for a second.” “No, NAME and I tried that. It doesn't work.”

Jack

84 “You don't know what it's like to live here, man. You don't.” “Why do you stay?” “Because ... he’s/she's my friend. Because I like him/her. And no matter what crazy things he/she says or does, I still like him/her. God help me I still like him/her.”

85 “You know, NAME, I'm having trouble opening this jar.” “That's because it's a can.”

86 “I can't be poor. I'm too good looking to be poor.”

87 “I would never pay for that shirt.”

88 “He's/She’s too passive. He/She needs to voice his/her opinions more.” “Ooh, NAME, what do you think about that?” “I don't know.”

Angela

89 “You guys are our closest friends, but we are sick and tired of you!”

90 “Because I'd rather give him/her attention for acting normal.” “Oh, honey. We know that's never going to happen.”

91 “Let me ask you this, in all the time you were with NAME, did he ever call out the name S/O NAME?” “No, but he called out the name PERSON ANAME.” “In what context?”

92 “No, I was just a little surprised seeing you here, eating my food, which is mine.” — Rachel

Alan

93 “It's quarter after three. Only creeps and wierdos are up now.” [person c enters]

94 “Anything happens to NAME, I'll kill you.” “You like him/her better than me.” [person a nods]

95 “I have an incomplete future.” “Of course you have an incomplete future. The future's always incomplete. When it's complete, people tend to call it the past.”

96 “You chose FRIEND over your own flesh and blood? You're dead to me.”

Amy

97 “I don't like it when you call him/her an idiot, NAME.” “I didn't call him/her anything.” “Oh, well I guess I must have thought it in my head.”

98 “NAME, we used you as a decoy. We knew you'd be stupid so we used it against you.”

99 “What happened? I used to be good.” “NAME, I say this with love and respect. You were never good.”

100 “We're just asking you to get us off the hook.” “No. This is your hook, you're going to hang there like the worms you are.”

[floralseokjin]

PBN drabble | It’s Yoongi’s birthday and he deserves a ride...

warnings; smut, fluffy domesticated stuff that i can’t handle 🤧inspired by his new selfies today and of course, his birthday... my favourite characterisation of min yoongi had to make a cb! wordcount; 1.6k

listen to; she treats me well – ben howard

“What are you doing, Yoongi?”

Shit. You’ve woken up. He can hear your hand brushing against the empty sheets on his side of the bed. Aimlessly searching for him. He had been so close to finishing undetected too... Just about to turn his monitor off when you stirred.

Think. Maybe if he stays silent, you’ll think you’re dreaming and nod off back to sleep. It’s too late to switch the monitor off now so he prays the bluish glow coming from it doesn’t wake you up even more. He wishes too late.

“Hm. What time is it?” You sound groggy, and he hears you sit up, reaching for your phone on the nightstand.

“Late,” he tells you, realising silence isn’t an option now that your eyes are open. He winces ahead of time, just before you cry out his name sleepily.

“Yoongi!”

“Go back to sleep,” he whines quietly. He knows he was playing a dangerous game when he’d crawled out of bed just gone half 11.

“How can I?!” You exclaim, but you don’t sound mad, just hella cute and sleepy. He turns his head so he can see your darkened figure, phone screen lighting up your face as you pout. Almost irresistibly. “It’s been your birthday for nearly 3 hours and you’ve been alone!”

He scoffs. “Birthdays don’t start until morning.” But he knows better. This is why you’re annoyed. You’d wanted to stay awake past 12 to wish him a happy birthday, but because you’re 23 going on 63, you don’t know time exists past 11pm... Birthdays are lame anyway. Just another day. You don’t agree though, and now he’s in deep shit.

“It’s 3am.” Quarter too, Yoongi thinks to himself but he knows better than to correct you right now. “It is morning.” He can’t argue there he guesses.

“You said you were going to sleep, too.”

That he had. Because you know what he’s like. Working on his music in the only free time he has. Night time. He just really can’t quit right now. His dream could become a reality, but he can’t tell you that yet. Not until Hobi’s friend really loves something and wants to use it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, yours either, because you support him so well...

But not at 3am. On his birthday. Don’t forget that one. He’d tricked you. Letting you fall asleep in his arms at exactly 11:11pm (late for you) and then he’d expertly rolled you on to your side before he’d slipped out of bed and crept to his desk.

“God, what does it feel like to sleep next to my boyfriend?” You grouch, and he watches you climb out of bed. Great. Now he feels guilty. “I can’t remember anymore.”

He rolls his eyes. “Quit being dramatic.” You’re in front of him now, looking down at him judgingly. He outstretches his arms, holding your hips. Voice soft. “Get back to bed. Look I’m going too–”

He can’t finish his sentence, nor get up, because you’re climbing on his lap, straddling him, kissing him. This seems to be a position you’re both in a lot. His fault, definitely. But right now, he really can’t feel bad.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur against his lips.

“Mhm. Thank you,” he squeezes out against yours. Hands finding their way down the sides of your thighs and to your ass. He gives it a squeeze. He really can’t resist. His excuse? He needs to make sure this is all real every once in a while...

Your tongue catches and curls with his, a shaky breath leaving him because he can’t help it. You pull back and weave your hands through his hair, eyes narrowing. He knows what’s coming so he stops you beforehand.

“Leave the hair alone.” He sighs.

“I just... I can’t get used to it.” You shake your head. Still eyeballing his brand new blonde locks. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to have a mid-life crisis at 25.”

“Quarter life crisis.” He corrects. Not like that was the reason though. Try the loss of a bet between him and Seokjin...

You pout again. He kisses it from your lips. “No, I like it...” You insist, kissing down his jaw and to his neck. He closes his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle. This will always be the best feeling. You in his arms. Your mouth on his skin. He’s the luckiest guy in the world. Yellow hair or not.

“I really do,” you hum. It heats a patch against his skin. “It’s just you’re not my Yoongi anymore.”

You’re talking in pout now too, sounding cute. His hands find your back, nudging you until you lift away and look at his face. “I’ll always be your Yoongi,” he smiles. “For as long as you want me.” Cheesy, yes, but who cares? Although he kisses you to hide the flush on his cheeks.

“Forever, then,” you reply simply.

He shrugs, voice growing in volume as he wonders something. “Fine by me but isn’t that impossible? What do I have left now? Forty? Fifty years max?”

“Yoongii,” you whine, pushing at his chest. “Stop being so morbid.” He chuckles in response, but you’re carrying on. “They’ll find a way to freeze us soon. We can live forever then.”

He thinks someone has watched too my conspiracy videos, but yeah, forever with you doesn’t seem too bad. He tells you that with more kisses, nipping at your bottom lip, hands in your hair, yours gripping his shoulders. It turns needy fast, but of course, he’s always needy for you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he murmurs out of breath, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Here’s fine,” you more or less moan. It fucks him up. You run a hand down his chest. “I want to ride the birthday boy in his favourite chair.”

“Fuck.” That ends him. He’s never had birthday sex before. He thinks he’d like to start. “Ride away,” he smirks, leaning back, letting you take the reins.

His dick is already hard when you remove it from his sweat pants. No surprise there. It would be more of a shock if he was limp. You’re wet, but not super wet as you tug your pyjama shorts to the side and press down on him. More like moist and waiting for his cock like you are most days. He slips inside with a slight push, because you’re made for him now. You take his dick so well. He, on the other hand, is always stunned when he feels the velvety warmth of your insides. He can never get used to it no matter how hard he tries.

He sits back and lets you ride him, because that’s all he can do. Watching you in the bluish glow, hair in his eyes. God. You really are stunning. So pretty. So beautiful. His. He always needs to remind himself that. But not like he used to. Before he used to be scared and worried. Now he’s just thankful and lucky. You’re his, and he’s yours, and that’s how it should be.

He wants to touch you some more. Feel his hands on your body. His mouth. So ever so carefully he pulls down a part of your tank top, the strappy sleeve having fallen down your arm, to reveal one of your breasts. He takes your nipple in his mouth, laving and sucking it at his whim, your other breast getting kneaded by his palm. The extra stimulation gets you sighing so sweetly it makes his heart jerk around in that chest of his. Your mouth parted, eyes lidded.

You really are the girl of his dreams. He used to think this could never work out. That everything was too messy. Too much having happened. Not after you loved another just to love him. But now he sees the truth. You had to love another just to love him. It makes sense now, and that’s amazing. Some things just have to happen. You persevere. You never lose hope. Life works in mysterious ways. Maybe in the back of his mind he’d call it fate. Yeah. Maybe.

You cum quickly because you’re grinding on him like a maniac and your tits have always been too sensitive. An I love you falls from his tongue, and he cums to your I love you more, a stupid smile on his face, because that game never gets old.

“If we stay like this for a while hopefully we don’t have to clean up,” he hopes moments later, cock still stuffed inside you, growing flaccid.

You pull a face. “I’m still cleaning up, and then we sleep.” That’s a direct command. You slip off him with shaky knees, getting to your feet. “Or do I have to chain you to the bed?”

He watches some of his cum drip down the inside of your thigh. Well, there goes his great idea. “Mhm. Kinky,” he agrees, folding his dick back in his sweats as he stands too. “I’m down.”

You ignore him. “We have to get up early tomorrow. Your birthday itinerary starts at 9am sharp.”

He nods. Yes, boss. He has no clue what you’ve planned but he’s excited. He just won’t let on how much... You smile victorious, making moves for his door and to the bathroom. He grabs your hand, tugging you back gently.

“One more kiss,” he suggests with a pout. Of course you agree. He hums into your mouth happily as he pulls away. “Mm. Happy birthday to me.”

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

“After the disappointment of the Andrew Garfield-led Amazing Spider-Man movies, everyone’s favorite wallcrawler has been having a renaissance. Entering the Marvel cinematic universe in 2016's Captain America: Civil War, the webslinger fully redeemed himself with well-crafted live-action film in Spider-Man: Homecoming.”

 Yes...okay...that was definitely what Homecoming was....

 “and a wildly successful spin-off film Venom, ”

 I mean financially successful sure...

 “In the midst of all his success, Spider-Man has quietly become one of the most inclusive and socially conscious superheroes of today.”

*raises eyebrow*

 Okay...go on...

 “Last week, it was announced that Spider-Man: Far From Home would feature two out transgender actors playing trans characters, the first big-budget superhero film to do so. Spider-Man: Homecoming also featured a queer character, as well as numerous people of color.”

  Wait who was the queer character in Homecoming?

 “It’s also worth mentioning that Spiderverse included a Jewish version of Peter Parker, who is typically portrayed as either secular or Christian.”

 ....ehhhhhhhhh....yes and no.

 In media adaptations barring maybe one (the 1994 show cos I do not remember where he got married) Spider-Man is portrayed as...I guess secular but really it’s more that they just don’t say anything.

 It’s not that the character is not a believer in a faith per se, especially if you go by older adaptations during times when hardly anyone was secular. It’s just that they, understandably, aren’t saying anything.

 In the comics Peter is some kind of Christian but probably a Protestant (unless you go by Amazing Grace where he is an atheist but that’s hot trash we don’t talk about) but we don’t really talk about it that specifically.

 We just know that he and his family celebrate Christmas and very, very occasionally Aunt May references going to church and that she, Peter and MJ believe in a monothetistic deity they refer to as ‘God’.

 And really apart from the Church thing there is no clue to Peter’s religion and Marvel probably (wisely) would rather keep it that way. He even got married in a civil ceremony!

 However in the SUBTEXT...he’s Jewish. And it’s basically an open secret that he is and always has been Jewish.

 “The Spider-Man video game also featured a wonderful easter egg for queer fans by having a giant rainbow flag, as well as several smaller ones, scattered around the game’s fictionalized New York City map. ”

 I mean that’s wonderful but I wouldn’t call that an Easter Egg so much as...it’s just what you’d find in modern NYC.

 “Even the Venom film got in on the fun, with fans shipping Tom Hardy’s Eddie Brock and the titular male alien-symbiote after the two kissed in the film. Sony even encouraged the pairing, releasing a romantic comedy-esque trailer for the film to promote the home release. While some complained of queer-baiting, most felt that it was all in good fun and included queer people in on the joke, instead of making us the target.”

 Again, good for them but I don’t think that was the movie actively trying to be positive towards queer people.

 Brock and Venom kissed when Venom was bonded to Brock’s ex-fiance and had a pronounced female form, being an adaptation of a character literally called She-Venom.

 And it was based upon a script written in the 1990s so really it was more the movie did it and then people took it as a thing that was shipping Venom and Brock (even though Venom is sexless). Brock and the symbiote have been shipped numerous times in the comics but the subtext has always been that the symbiote, if any sex, is female. In the Spec cartoon it is referred to as Symbi (a pun on Cyndi) and in the Spider-Girl comics it is marked out as female (granted this happens after it’s bonded to a woman).

 And again, headcanon away but like...that probably wasn’t intentional at all Sony were just being goofy or unintionally made something people took a certain way.

 “Indeed, even in the comics, Spider-Man has always been a fairly inclusive hero. Miles Morales was introduced in the early-2000s, taking over the mantel from Peter Parker for several years. ”

 Okay, this is so weird for me to be correcting such a praising point but lets really look at this.

 First of all Miles didn’t take over Peter’s role for several years he did it permanently.

 Second of all Miles is from 2011 so that’s not the early 2000s, that’s the early 2010s, but okay maybe that was a typo.

 Third of all, is it really all that logical to say this franchise that began in 1962 has always been fairly inclusive and then cite a character from 2011 as proof of this? Wouldn’t examples from during the FIRST quarter century have been more apt?

 Fourth of all...eh. Has Spider-Man been fairly inclusive from the start? Yes, no, its complicated.

 Look there were exactly 0 LGBTQ+ characters in Spider-Man until maybe the 1990s and even then I couldn’t off my head tell you who they were. Felicia Hardy is bisexual but we didn’t find out until the 2000s and it was most prominent in an AU. Really the most significant LGBTQ+ character who’s had the fact that they are queer be more than a one off reference was Max Modell and he debuted 2011 and IIRC wasn’t established as queer until 2012. In defence of Spider-Man the Comics Code literally FORBID any character be anything other than straight until the 1990s and even then it was relatively rare, even in X-Men which you’d think it wouldn’t be.

 If we’re talking POC again this one is a bit complicated Glori Grant, Joe Robertson, Randy Robertson are frequently appearing POC characters but not in every run and they aren’t usually as prominent as like Jameson, Aunt May, Harry Osborn, MJ, etc. Characters of other ethnicities are even less frequent and I don’t even know what we should make of Puma/Thomas Fireheart. I mean A for effort, they wanted a Native American character who wasn’t really a villain and wasn’t exactly a sterotype so there is that I guess.

 Again though...most other Marvel franchises decade by decade weren’t much better with this and we should give credit where credit is due to the same guy who created Black Panther writing a nuanced scene where 2 black people in the 60s separated by age discuss different approaches to civil rights with neither being proven right or wrong.

 When it comes to disabled people, outside of evil insane villains, forget it, there is nothing before Flash Thompson in 2008 unless you count Aunt May’s chronically poor health.

 “Spider-Gwen quickly became one of the highest-selling female superhero comics. Spider-Woman was a prominently featured bisexual character, and the female Asian-American hero Silk also had LGBT supporting characters, Rafferty and Lola, who were in a healthy relationship. Additionally, many view vampire villain Morbius, who is getting a spin-off film starring Jared Leto next year, as a metaphor for those suffering during the HIV crisis of the '80s. ”

 Again...Spider-Gwen and Silk are 2010s characters so that’s not ‘always fairly inclusive’.

 I don’t even know if Jessica Drew is bisexual, I’ve never heard that but I don’t think she is.

 Morbius as a metaphor for HIV...MIGHT be true if we are specifically talking about his 1990s solo-book which I’ve never read. But the character as originally created 100% was never about that because he was created in the 1970s before HIV was known about.

 “Unlike his Marvel counterparts Thor, Iron Man and Captain America, Spider-Man’s world has accurately reflected real world diversity for years.”

 ....Not really.

 I’m not even saying Spidey maybe haven’t been comparatively better at it than those guys but he’s deffo not been accurate.

 Plus to be fair to the other guys, Captain America and Iron Man have had at least one major black supporting cast member and in Cap’s case he was fairly candid about social strife and issues.

 And with Thor it’s not that fair to throw shade at him for not reflecting the real world given that 90% of this characters and stories are literally pulled from fantasy and myth. I don’t even know if there are any queer figures in Norse myth let alone poc.

 “While it’s a seemingly simple idea that any of us can be a superhero, it’s sadly still a radical concept in a endlessly growing film genre that has predominetly centers straight cisgender white men. ”

 Well that’s mostly because the comics the movies adapt are about those types of people.

 “That is because relatability and inclusion has always been core to Spider-Man’s appeal and message. It’s why the late Stan Lee decided that, unlike other superheroes who expose parts of their faces, Spider-Man had to wear a full-face mask.”

  Stan Lee only speculated that that was part of Spider-Man’s appeal, he never had any input on that design choice it was all Steve Ditko...who frankly was unlikely to have been thinking about that...

 “Even further, Spider-Man isn’t the king of a country, a billionaire, a woman out of a Greek myth, or a brilliant scientist. He’s just an average high-school kid from Brooklyn who always strives to do the right thing even while struggling to balance his everyday life and hiding a secret identity.”

 WHOA there buddy...Spider-Man isn’t routinely ‘a kid’ nor is he from Brooklyn.

 MILES is from Brooklyn but Peter, as evidenced by that great big caption in Captain America: Civil War, is from QUEENS.

 “And it’s the idea of balancing a secret identity with everyday life that has always allowed Spider-Man to connect with queer audiences long before comic writers were allowed to explicitly include LGBT characters.”

 ...I’m not denying this necesarrilly but whilst i’ve heard stories from poc who connected with Spider-Man I’ve never heard this about LGBTQ+ fans of Spider-Man.

“Indeed, perhaps the strongest part of Spider-Man’s inclusivity is the subtlety to which it has been done. While Black Panther, Black Lightning, and Wonder Woman rightly put issues of identity front and center, Spider-Man’s quiet diversity allows audiences who typically cry “SJWs are ruining my favorite characters” to actually see diversity showcased without it being overt.”

 Errrrrrr...sure....*represses memories of when Miles Morales was first announced*

 Lets um...wait and see what happens when those trans characters show up in the movie this year okay.

[lifeofacomplexmixedgirl]

Surviving a Quarter-life Crisis

15-minute read | to be listened with: ‘Our Destiny’ by Hinda Hicks

It's November 30th, and I'm sitting at the corner of the bed, having a panic attack, hiding underneath the warmest cobija I could find in Tio Edwin's cold and abandoned room. The only clean and conveniently isolated corner of this entire house - buried behind mountains of hoarded clothes, furniture, and mail from the '80s - to shield myself from Abuela's nightly rage. If I silence my thoughts, I can hear her shouting from the attic, "Pinche cayajera…siempre yendo y viniendo. You make me so mad!" Five minutes later, she's baiting me with a peace meal, "Mija, ya comiste? I cook for you some arroz," only to get caught in her next course of torment - no, thank you.

Surrounded by unfinished ink drawings plastered along the walls, a few discarded guitars, and a hot wheel collection, I volunteer to solitary confinement as I wait till she exhausts herself to sleep. Tonight's interrogation began the same as every other - with my face cradled in my hands, asking, "why the fuck am I here?". I fall back onto the bed, close my eyes, and take deep breaths until my mind saturates with fantasies of the free and steady life I long for. The sight of my own home decorated with open space, natural light, greenery, walls filled with photos, and shelves of books evokes earlier memories of what I used to have. Suddenly, my mind becomes inflamed with countless regrets, and I cry - depending on my tears to flood away the fires that have been set ablaze inside of me for some time. Feeling desiccated, I reach for the phone and call the only person who can restore me... mom.

Answering the first ring, I immediately drop a dumbbell of weightless questions in hopes she will have the solutions to maybe one or two - but let's be honest - all of my problems.

"Um… hello? Ma, did you hear what I said?" I ask irritably.

"I'm listening… sounds like you're having a quarter-life crisis kid," she jokingly remarks.

"Ha ha ha…-_- I need to get out of this house like now. Abuela is stressing me OUT! I ain't gonna make it…" I respond in desperation.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"PLEEEASE!"

"Be cool, gymshoe. I just dropped your brother off at home. I'll be there in about an hour."

"Alright, bet."

I'm checking the time every few minutes, then finally an hour elapses. A rush of energy fills my body, and I jump out the bed, grab my jacket, and race out the back door in an escape. Just in time, I see mom pull up through the rain, and I hop in the driver's seat as she climbs over to the passenger side. "You hungry, lovebug?" she asks. "I stay hungry," I assure her. We bop in-sync to our favorite R&B throwbacks driving east down Division to scoop a pound of jumbo shrimp from Goose Island and make our way to my mom's mentor and long-time friend, Dr. O.

Dr. O'Bannon is the epitome of black excellence - a woman of independence, knowledge, and self-love. Dining at her table, pouring glasses of cabernet wine, in a high-rise that overlooks Navy Pier and Lake Michigan, everything about her exuded strength. As she and my mother are sharing childhood stories, ancestry, and accomplishments, I'm leaning in to listen and absorb it all. After a few hours, I'm so inspired and loaded with courage that I ask her if she would be open to having me as a guest for a week, and with the help of my mom, she accepted. 

And with this new blessing, I'm setting out to heal, learn, and reach a higher state of self because in ten days... I'll be 25.

How I Prepared Turning 25 in Ten Days

Day One: Sunday

I woke up to a new day, new week, new month, so I decided to start my day by doing something active. League of Their Own, a Chicago based women's recreational sports group that meets up every other Sunday, was holding a double dutch event - I couldn't miss out on the opportunity to enjoy some culture and bask in positive girl energy. Afterward, I had a healthy breakfast - drank some fire peach coffee - and engaged in pleasant conversation at Peach's in Bronzeville with one of my homegirls. Then I kicked it back to the crib for the rest of the day to indulge in self-care rituals and prepare for the week ahead. 

What it cost: $20 (splendid breakfast + tip) What I gained: Strength and timing - I have to get my footwork right before I step into the new decade. 

Day Three: Tuesday

On my way home from work, I decided to take a detour through Millenium Park, and I saw everyone crowd around the rink to watch the staff resurface the ice. Out of curiosity, I went to inquire about admission and told myself, "If this is more than $15, I ain't skating". Ha - it was $13, so I took it as a sign to go out there and take a break from adulthood. Unconcerned about time or priorities, I put my headphones on, skated for an hour, and reminisced on my favorite childhood memories. Remembering when my mom placed me in ice-skating classes for the first time and how much I loved it. I couldn't remember why I stopped going, but alas, there I was - my child-like spirit being awakened inside of me.

What it cost: $13 (skate-rental) What I gained: Childish innocence - my most appreciated attribute - and a new activity to keep every Tuesday during the winter to stay active.  

Day Five: Thursday

I picked a route and stuck to walking home for the rest of the week. With an enormous love for all things design, I stopped by the Chicago Cultural Center to check out the Chicago Architecture Biennial. I have this goal for when I turn 30, which is to go back to school for architecture, design my family's home in Mexico, and successfully retire as 'the ultimate designer.' I walked through the exhibit, sat down, and sketched. I looked up at my favorite piece and just knew that this was something I'm committed to accomplishing. 

What it cost: FREE (Admission is always free to the public) What I gained: Inspiration and reassurance of my future goals. 

Day Seven: Saturday

After drill, I stopped by Abuela's to pick up some things. I made my way towards the back door, and when I opened it, there stood at the top of the stairs, my Tio Huber's savage-ass dogs. I was still until one started barking, and the other three charged for me. "Oh shit," is all I could think as I turned around and dipped. Once I made it to the gate, I felt a sharp pain pierce through my thigh and pull me back before I could jump over. At that moment, I gave up and broke down in tears - because as much as I've tried to keep my spirits high and pass on positive energy, I'm always thrown a curveball. I let them bite and claw at me as I made my way back to the door to attempt to run again upstairs.

While trying to care for the wound and Abuela shouting at me, I realized that my time living here has come to an end, and come January, I need a new place to stay. Sharing this news with her made her even more upset, but I left for the hospital, accepting my circumstances. On my way out, my tio's friend shares with me, "Life is really kicking your ass right now...everything is going to be okay, remember it's only temporary. The universe is preparing you for something greater." - Great, what in the possible world could the universe be preparing me for? -_-

What it cost: We're not even getting into this... What I gained: Acceptance.

Day Nine: Monday

I took it slow today. I went to work, then home. 

As I poured a glass of wine and appreciated the views, I reflected on the past 5 years of my life. I pulled out my secret journal, wrote down my lessons, blessings, goals, and planned my next steps. What else should do I be doing the night before I turn 25? 

What it cost: It doesn't cost anything to invest in yourself.  What I gained: Closure and enthusiasm for a new and healthy beginning.

Day Ten: Happy 25th Birthday

"Happy 25th birthday to me!" I yelled in excitement- I hope I didn't wake Dr. O, but I couldn't help it. I usually keep special days like this to myself and only share with close friends, but I wanted to make an announcement to the world that I'm here, healed, healthy, and loved. I went to work and had a beautiful dinner with Dr. O. It was the perfect night to wind down from an amazing week. 

I planned a get-together tomorrow night with all of my day ones at my favorite bar, Estereo, so my birthday isn't over until I'm hungover, haha!

What it cost: Vulnerability and patience. What I gained: Genuine support, long-time friends, and healthy relationships. 

It's hard for me to accept that things aren't going to go the way I intended, but I've learned to accept it because everything really does happen for a reason. One of the biggest lessons I learned this year is to lead a life with no expectations because life itself is unexpected - who we meet, where we go, what we say, when things happen - that way, I'll never be disappointed. 

Your girl,  ~Eva

[dcehvi-blog]

using this gif because jung hae-in is a MEAL because he cute okay? but yes HELLO this is su, back with her second character, song daehwi, 29 year old ex-mayor’s son and a politician himself!!! he also owns and runs a (not very elite)  luxury club. i’ll be developing him for a while as i take a short break from all the darkness that seojoon brings (i love him tho). you can reach me on im or on discord!!! or alternatively, feel free to like this and i'll reach out to you! I’ll be a lil slow in replying but I promise I”ll definitely get back to you <3

so here’s a lil rundown: 

so he was born literally with a silver spoon!!! he’s the oldest of three siblings and always had immense pressure put on him since birth. that’s not to say his life is DIFFICULT because boi is literally rolling in money BUT he’s always had to be perfect and polished and pristine (we are pristin ANNYEONG)

his siblings have it a little ~easier~ because daehwi was the only one to really grow up in the spotlight - his father became the seoul mayor just as he turned sixteen, so he’s grown up quite fast rly 

so he’s a great smoothtalker and can probably charm the pants off you - except he isn’t into that so he’ll probably just take your vote

right so he’s a politician!!! he’s working for the seoul mayor’s office and helped in the campaigning efforts of the current mayor. he’s currently in charge of gangnam-gu, naturally. 

it’s only when he turned 25 that he realised he doesn’t have a personality. well, at least not a personality HE created. he’s been stuck with a PR personality for so long that he’s not really sure who he is

call it a quarter life crisis

the luxury club is his idea of rebelling but it’s also his way to get more power. he knows he can’t win over people with empty promises and cheshire grins, so he’s created a fucking luxurious club which welcomes almost everyone 

the place is called chasms 

he basically hand picked everyone to be hired in that place!!! he’s a “good” owner in the sense that he seems to be v involved and caring but he just knows how to keep eveyrone’s mouth shuts

so that’s why his label is j a n u s -> he’s actually v manipulative when he wants to be and switches so easily between personalities that those who don’t know him well often get a whiplash

personality }}

he is EXTREMELY two-sided but he often doesn’t show both sides to the same person

he’s mostly good natured (in front of people) but a little insincere because most of the time he seems so put together? but he’s not above threats if he has to get his way to make sure nothing’s afoot in gangnam. it’s his job after all. 

trigger warning: violence // he’s been known to get his way, even if it’s through spilling blood of threatening someone with good old life or death threats. he’s never carried the latter option out but you know, if he needs to, he would. 

trigger warning: mild drug addiction // he has a case of adderall addiction which is... I would say quite severe? it doesn’t harm him (yet) but he just needs it to keep him going. he justifies it to himself by saying that o well at least it’s not hard drugs

which explains why he tends to be REALLY fidgety when he hasn’t had his dose

extremely efficient and generally hates anyone who slacks off? coming from quite an elitist background, he wrongfully believes that hard work should be able to solve ANYTHING.

enjoys dancing if coaxed onto the dancefloor!!!! he hardly ever a) lets his guard down and b) gets drunk, so good luck with that

his asexuality is both a huge and minor part of him - he’s comfortable with kissing (sometimes) and he doesn’t quite mind giving hickeys really (but not receiving them) but nothing below the belt thank you very much. It’s just been a part of him which he’s been quite open about

that does NOT mean he is not romantic. even he’s panromantic - he genuinely isn’t concerned with the gender of the person he’s romantically invested in. in his line of work, romance is a little hard to come by. 

stickler for cleanliness!!!!! pls don’t put him in direct line of sight of huge messes, it makes him uncomfortable!!!!!!!!!!!!

plots }}

yo we could go 7000 ways w this boy tbh

all right first off his family/friends -> he’s rich as hell, so he’d probably go around quite a bit in the elite circles? he also has two younger siblings!!! who I don’t have specified story lines for except for what was stated above

partner/best friend-> he’s a bit of a workaholic so his (platonic) partner/best friend is someone who works with him or someone who works for him 

staff -> in any form! he probably has the regular secretary, driver etc or even someone who manages his meetings for him? 

and then the other staff -> anyone who works at chasms! escort, management, bartender, security, dancers, hell even the one or two peddlers!!!! anything is possible!!!!!

then there’s the third form of staff -> the ones who do the dirty work for him, the ones who are all muscle and brawn and perpetually by his side 24/7. bodyguards/possible hitmen??? options are ENDLESS weeooo

he’s in office on tuesdays, thursdays and fridays! come talk to him, if you have an issue. he’s usually the poster boy of good decorum in daylight hours! 

a mandatory ex who we can talk through the story line with! daehwi would have met them when he was 18-20? but things didn’t work out (maybe) because of his huge personality shifts

honestly i love plotting!!!! i love hearing about your characters and all the cool things yall are doing with them so please! don’t hesitate to hmu! <3