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arabellaflynn · 3 years

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For anyone who didn't catch it on other social media, I have finally moved out of the "temporary" apartment I was stuck in for 7 months, thanks to a lot of emotional and logistical support from friends, and a generous amount of financial support from the folks who gave to my GoFundMe. I am endlessly grateful to all of you, and if I weren't so goddamn tired right now I'd be more eloquent in saying so.

I've spent the past few weeks of unpacking and working out the bus routes around my new place trying to figure out how to explain what was so terrible about the last one. Most attempts devolved into page upon page of rage, which is not really what I want to be doing here. On the other hand, I also don't want to downplay how bad it was.

Spoiler: The temp apartment was Very Very Bad.

The tl;dr is that I was offered someone's spare room on the condition that I help out a little extra with household chores and caring for their rats, because the pet owning roommate had recently had back surgery and was still mobility-impaired. What actually happened is that as soon as they realized I had any basic life skills whatsofuckingever, I was cornered into becoming the 24/7 on-call House Adult. I would have gone on strike, but the other two people in the apartment were so terrible at coping with absolutely any aspect of being alive that if I had, one or both of them would probably be dead now.

That is not hyperbole. I sat back at one point and realized that I had talked to 911 dispatch five times in the preceding four months. None of those calls were for me. To be clear, I ain't mad about other people having medical problems. All five of those calls were appropriate and necessary uses of emergency services. I just resent the hell out of being the default option for handling all of it, even though none of the medical emergency problems were mine, and there were other people in the house. Literally, Short Roommate had a catastrophic asthma attack one night, and when she was wheezing too hard to talk she passed the phone to Tall Roommate -- who immediately ran to the other end of the apartment, banged on my door, and handed the phone to me. It got to the point where I just told the operator what was up, went downstairs to unlock the door for EMS, stood in the corner answering the occasional question until they hauled someone off to the hospital, and then went right back to bed, because none of this was my problem. And that's just the 911 calls, not even counting the number of times I had to talk her down out of a dissociative episode, or any of the other shit I was not warned about and did not volunteer to do. They wore me down until my only response to "a fellow human can't breathe" is "fuck's sake, why am I even involved here".

They both needed a lot more, and a lot more professional, help than they could possibly have gotten out of a random civilian roommate. They both fought tooth and nail against actually getting any of it. Every time Short Roommate was dragged to the hospital, her discharge papers included a big fat packet full of social services, resources, and business cards for actual physical people to phone. I know this because whenever I cleaned the apartment, I found them on the fucking floor, whereupon I placed them on her fucking keyboard, and told her point-blank to call these people. As far as I know, she never did.

I am neither qualified nor equipped to be a live-in caregiver for anybody. There is a fucking reason I have never wanted children. I keep critters because if you give them food, water, toys, and boxes to sleep in, you can leave them to entertain themselves for hours while you work or sleep, and no one will arrest you.

There was a bunch of other stuff. Tall Roommate rarely if ever cleaned anything, including herself, unless directly ordered to do so and given a detailed list of instructions of what you meant by "clean". I only ever got her to wash her own damn dishes once, and I did it by messaging her from the other room 'I just found a mouse in the sink eating snacks off your dirty plates GO DO YOUR DISHES'. She had a laundry list of problems, but the relevant one here is that she was high-support-needs autistic with no support and zero inclination to find any.

[Did I mention the mice? We had mice. All over. The rats murdered two of them when they got into the cages, looking for the free-feed bowl.]

Short Roommate clearly loved her rats but didn't actually do any of the rat care beyond petting and playing. One of them was tremendously sick at one point and needed meds q6h. She was supposed to be helping with that and didn't, which meant that I went several weeks on a maximum of six hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. I tore the fuck into her for that one, pointing out in exactly so many words that some of these meds were painkillers and if the rat didn't get them on time HE SUFFERS. Not doing any of the grunt work, Short Roommate evidently thought rats were so easy she should just keep getting more of them! She rescued two, one of whom was preggo, kept several of the babies, and started talking about waiting for one of the girls to grow up so she could breed him with one of her younger boys.

Gentle Reader, I promise you the only reason I did not strangle her in her sleep that very night was that I knew, deep in my heart, that I could not move the body down two flights of stairs by myself, and if I left it up to Tall Roommate, the corpse would still be in the apartment today.

If I were inclined to any sympathy, it would have died when Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend and New Boyfriend's Mother. She initially took all the rats with her, which made them officially not my problem anymore, but I woke up one morning to a message that said something like "[New Boyfriend's Mother] says that if I show up to our new place with the rats she's not going to let me in, [Tall Roommate] is coming back with all the rats and everything they own". I found out later that this was because their new place was in section 8 housing, where you are not allowed to have pets that aren't service or support animals. Which Short Roommate had known the entire time, and just... made no plans for. At all. Unless "ignore everything until bitchslapped by reality, then panic and make unreasonable demands of other people" counts, I guess.

Eight rats. She dumped eight rats on me. Eight. I wound up taking care of them all without help; Tall Roommate was incapable of keeping anything in her habitat clean, including herself, and I wasn't willing to let her neglect animals. I was actually down to one rat of my own, having lost my two venerable old men, and was looking for a new friend or two for Tseng. Which I had to stop doing, because nine fucking rats is a lot of rats, and I couldn't in good conscience bring Rats nos. 10 & 11 into this shitshow. Naturally, none of the rats got along; two pairs of boys had to be kept apart, and both of them tried to pick fights with poor Tseng, and four of them were girls that had to be kept away from all of the boys for obvious reasons. It was exhausting and a catastrophe.

Once I had the rats she apparently made no further effort to re-home them, although she did keep telling Tall Roommate to come knock on my door and take pictures of them. (I put a stop to this. Tall Roommate did it because Short Roommate had broken up with her to shack up with New Boyfriend, and Tall Roommate had literally no way to cope with this other than try desperately to get her back.) I bugged her to do something about this until, predictably, I had to contact the local rat rescue people to find fosters less than a week before my moving crew was scheduled. When I told her, she replied "oh, I was just about to submit that". Sure you were. And while you're here, I have this nice bridge to sell you.

[The four girls and two youngest boys went to Mainely Rat Rescue. It looks like the boys have already found a home, but the girls are up for adoption. I kept the two old men, who both have special care needs; Garion has breathing problems that involve his own asthma inhaler and a steady diet of NSAIDs, and Errand has attitude problems that involve picking fights with any rat who isn't Garion. They're both just shy of three(!) and unlikely to find homes through a foster program, plus I'm already their third caretaker, so I couldn't send them off with a stranger. They are currently sulking because I wouldn't supplement their dinner with all of my dinner -- which is to say, they're fine.]

The point is, my brain just about died off. The only time in that apartment that I didn't spend cleaning up after three grown adults, two of whom weren't even me, were the weeks after Short Roommate moved out to shack up with New Boyfriend, which she had broken up with Tall Roommate to do, and Tall Roommate took it so badly she ended up inpatient before she ate a bottle of Tylenol. (I called 911 when I overheard her plans. It was about 50% "a fellow human is in need of help" and 50% "argh jesus fuck THIS IS NOT MY JOB please go talk to someone who is actually paid to deal with this".) I am slowly clawing my way back to the surface, so if you'll just bear with me, I'll be back on Twitch this Sunday 3-7 Eastern, and type out more things that have been on hold while I tried to retain at least some of my marbles.

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tf2humbug · 7 years

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My TF2 Comic Series

This is a rough idea as to how I'd plan out a new on-going TF2 series if I were given the chance, based on what I know of established plot and my major assumptions about what some of the final developments are likely to be. When (if?) part 7 of the current TF2 comics storyline gets released, a lot of this may get rendered moot. I'm just spit-balling, anyway. It's fun! So! Here we go. Picking back up in the spring of 1974. Everything is different yet also pretty much exactly the same. Demo gets saddled with Merasmus, first as a roommate, then as a magical mentor. Merasmus knows he must eventually train a successor to carry his arcane knowledge into the future, and while this guy may be drunk half the time, he actually has a lot of potential. And besides, he did Merasmus a solid when he took him in. So Demo embarks on a wondrous-yet-annoying quest to unlock his magical potential and claim his alchemical heritage. Merasmus and Mrs. DeGroot get along like they've been friends their whole lives, of course. Demo's home life becomes a wacky supernatural sitcom starring himself, Merasmus, his mum, and his three familiars Eyelander, Bombnomicon, and Mini Monoculous. (Those three have their own weird dynamic. None of them actually like each other very much.) And hey, magic powers!!!! Zhanna and Soldier have the biggest, stupidest, most elaborate Hawaiian wedding ever because it's the furthest thing from that frozen Siberian hellscape she could imagine. (Soldier grumbles a bit that it's barely even America, but finally relents.) Literally everyone is invited, including any and all NPCs, old enemies, the ghost of Tom Jones, a clan of raccoons, and close family of the mercs. We get to meet Soldier's weirdly normal family and catch up with Zhanna's family. Soldier turns into a drama-bomb groomzilla while Zhanna is just overwhelmed with happiness. She falls into a coma from the mental shock and is roused out of it when magical intervention annoys her into returning to reality. Once married, they immediately begin furiously attempting to conceive a child. Like, more than they were before. Heavy himself is adjusting to his new family situation and being a little overbearing (unintentionally.) His mother is happy to be taken care of, so he moves her to America and builds her a beautiful cottage not too far from where he lives. It has all the amenities, including a high-powered laser mounted on the roof. Zhanna is starting her own family, and he's secretly giddy at the idea of being an uncle. Yana and Bronislava are both off on their own world-trotting adventures, but they don't write him as often as he would like. He's collecting the selfies they mail him from all the exotic locations they visit into a photo album, which he likes to flip through and feel that big brother combination of pride and worry. Medic has to deal with his past, such as his parents. He's finally gotten around to going through the box of keepsakes and documents left to him by his mother, where he makes some interesting discoveries, and his elderly father comes sniffing around, presumably to take advantage of his estranged son's advances in rejuvenatory medicine. Meanwhile, occasional bids from Mephisto, Perdition Representative and current minority shareholder of his souls, to tempt him into trading for more favors are casually swatted away. (I mean, until he actually wants something he can't accomplish himself.) Medic really shouldn't underestimate a sufficiently pissed-off devil, though. They have ways. Throughout every story, hints are occasionally dropped that Pyro is an alien. Some are subtle, some... less so. Someone important apparently takes notice when Pyro begins to be followed around by 70s-era X-Files style FBI agents. Balloonicorn delights in terrorizing them, but Pyro is looking forward to making real good friends! Ultimately, nothing is ever revealed one way or another about Pyro's nature, so everyone just ends up kind of confused. Saxton Hale has stepped down as the big boss of Mann Co (handed over to Miss Pauling, who will sometimes call for advice) but remains an investor. He and Mags are now a power couple, but he's going through a mid-life crisis in which he's seeking out and wrestling the most legendary, dangerous monsters in the world, which is getting dangerous even for him. Mags has her own complicated feelings about the rekindled relationship, including the baggage from her past marriages, brief as they were. Eventually Saxton must face the fact that the most challenging foe he must wrestle into submission is... HIS DUTY TO MANKIND (and Mags.) They return to Australia to help rebuild after the loss of all the world's Australium and oppose Charles Darling's growing post-apocalyptic Thunderdome-esque zoo-based empire. Sniper has manned a disastrous submarine expedition to the sunken ruins of New Zealand (because he built it himself and refused to ask for help) and barely survived. He reluctantly asks his fellow mercs and Miss Pauling for help in a second expedition, recovering artifacts of his lost heritage in return for sharing it with Mann Co. He also gets roped into Mad Max-esque adventures with Saxton Hale and Mags. And of course, his birth parents are still at-large, which he doesn't know how to deal with AT ALL. Miss Pauling is juggling several explosives at once. First, she's just getting the hang of being Mann Co. boss (including having people do things FOR HER, her assistants Bidwell and Reddy), dealing with the terrorist cult Rise & Shine that's out to ruin the company, hiring new staff (Driver to help with the cult situation and a new merc liaison to fill her old role, Chicken Girl), forging her vision for the future of Mann Co., and deciding how to deal with the company's inconvenient ward Olivia Mann. She has her fair share of frazzled moments and sudden urges to dump all her responsibilities and run far, far away, but she never does. That's not who she is. Oh, and she gets a girlfriend, so that's nice. The new liaison Chicken Girl (as everyone insists on calling her after Scout recognizes her) doesn't actually remember Scout and finds him very aggravating, but not enough to quit her new super-legit job, which she's actually very good at, once she gets the hang of it. She just wishes they'd stop calling her Chicken Girl. Just "Chick" isn't an acceptable substitute. Engie is increasingly called on by Miss Pauling to consult on developing exciting new tech for Mann Co, which is especially important in a world without Australium to fuel effortless scientific discovery. The McMANN is his first such success, and he's so excited and proud! He collaborated with Driver, the new blood, on its final design, but it was 95% his project. (He's pretty sure that goes without saying.) Engie spends a lot of his time quietly tinkering away at ideas to make the McMANN even better, but he cooking up some other stuff that he knows Miss Pauling will be interested in. Even though some of it's a little... weird. Scout, Spy, and Scout's ma are awkwardly trying to form a conventional family unit. This is extremely complicated because Scout is still convinced his father is Tom Jones and there are all those older brothers to deal with. The most successful moments happen when Scout's ma tricks the two of them into spending time with her for a nice outing like a picnic at an outdoor concert, a baseball game, a demolition derby, etc. (Of course, there are shenanigans.) We also learn about the history behind Scout's parentage. The Mann brothers are all still hanging around as increasingly irrelevant ghosts, doing silly ghost stuff. Since they're triplets, none of them can move on unless they all do, and it's a constant source of arguments. Redmond & Blutarch just want to pull spooky pranks on people, but Gray takes as much time as he can to try to influence and even possess his daughter Olivia, which she eventually starts fighting. I would include Driver in this new set-up, as previously mentioned. As the new recruit, she'd be the one to ask questions about stuff the audience might want answers to, which is a useful function in fiction where a bunch of crazy shit happens all the time. She'd have her own little character arcs, too, but I've gone on enough about all that. And do keep an eye on that weird new cult that has it out for Mann Co. Rise & Shine? Yeah, I've mentioned them a few times. To the public, they seem so cute and harmless, with their chubby smiling mascot of a guru, talk show coverage, novelty songs, and funny comic book series. But we know better.

#text #tf2 #tf2 mercs #tf2 headcanon #tf2 driver #tf2 oc #mercs #headcanon #driver #oc #concept #mcmann #long post

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smolpen · 7 years

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prompt: music

It’s been two weeks since my roommate Leon graduated from her course in Economics and flew back to her hometown in Germany. While I enjoyed the newfound privacy and space her absence brought to the small dormitory room, it was starting to get a bit too quiet and monotonous when I was alone. I had no problems spending my vacation catching up to the hours upon hours of dramas and variety shows that I had neglected over the course of the semester, but I could do with a little more excitement in my afternoons. Getting drenched in sweat while waiting for videos to finish buffering was starting to get a bit boring. Just as I was considering rearranging the room fixtures to bring some kind of freshness back into my life, the hostel headmistress called me into her office.

“Priscilla,” she greeted me. She said my name with a heavy accent, adding syllables and intonations where there shouldn’t have been any. “Are you free tomorrow morning?”

“Yes Madame,” I replied with a nod. She gestured her hands to a seat before her desk, and I wordlessly accepted her offer.

“Good, good, good,” she chanted sagely. She busied her hands with filing folders into several different boxes labeled “Old”, “New”, and “Current”. “Tomorrow you got new roommate coming in. She seem like very nice girl, said it’s her first time in the city. I was hoping you can show her around if you can. Go see the Merlion if you like.”

“Sure, I’ve got time,” I answered.

“Yeah, ever since Leon go home it’s like I never see you come out of your room already,” she noted. There was a warmth in her smile as she raised her head to look me in the eye as she continued, “You got plans to make new friends or what?”

I simply smiled back.

——

When I returned to the room, I quickly gathered all the empty ramen cups and potato crisp bags scattered about and dumped them into the largest unused grocery bag I could find. I switched off the air conditioning and opened the windows to bring some fresh air in. I swept the floors and changed my bedsheets, even going as far as washing the mattress cover of the unused bed.

Leon had left behind a bunch of souvenirs and mementos for me to remember her by — polaroid photos from concerts and events we attended together, a paperweight in the shape of a beer mug, a couple of old band posters, a small Fabergé-inspired jewelry box which she’d filled with chocolates and candies as her parting gift — all of which I’d kept out in the open. I took down the posters and moved all the items into a locked cabinet before I phoned the hostel warden to request a cleaner, and a custodian dropped by about an hour later to vacuum the room.

While waiting for the room to get cleaned, I decided to buy new groceries. Leon had prepared a hearty meal for us on the day of my move, and I felt like it would’ve been nice to imitate the same treatment this time as well. The problem was that I only ever knew how to cook soup, and with the warm summer weather in full force, I wondered if it would be an appropriate dish.

By the time I arrived back in the hostel, the cleaner was already long gone. They had left behind new complimentary sheets and pillows for the future tenant — my new roommate.

I slowly started to process the whole thing again. I’d never tried having any other roommate other than Leon. What would it be like? My walls looked so bare that I debated putting up my band posters again, but I decided against it. What if my new roommate would think it was weird of me to have large prints of five immaculate girls plastered above my headboard? I didn’t exactly want to make a bad first impression.

——

I had trouble sleeping, so I e-mailed Leon at 3 A.M. in the morning.

“I’m getting a new roommate later. I don’t really know what to do.”

She responded to me about an hour later.

“Silly girl, isn’t it late where you’re at? Why aren’t you asleep yet? If you’ve already cleaned the room then you don’t have to worry so much! I’m sure you’ll be friends in no time.”

She went on to share that she was going on a road trip with a couple of friends in the weekend, and that she was planning on saving up to see another concert at the end of the year. She signed her message with a suggestion: “You should save up and come to the concert with me, too!”

——

At some point I passed out, and I was awakened by the sound of a key turning in the door. My mind raced with possible methods of self-defence and I was only half-ready to scream in terror until I was hit with a bout of confusion in the face of a petite girl waiting by doorway.

“Hello,” she said meekly, her lithe body barely hiding the large suitcase behind her.

“I’m sorry, good morning,” I managed to cough out. I smoothed out my hair as I stood from the bed and walked towards her. I managed to catch a glimpse of the clock before making my way to the door — it read 1 PM. Crap. “I’m guessing you’re my new roommate? Did your flight get delayed?”

She simply stared up at me with her dark doe-like eyes. She seemed even smaller up close, and the fact that it looked like she was starting to curl into herself didn’t really help much.

I took half a step back, feeling belatedly self-conscious that I might’ve had a bad case of morning breath. I tuck my hands under my shirt and slightly lift the fabric away from my chest.

“Um. Do you have any other luggage I could help bring in for you?”

She mumbled, shaking her head. “Sorry, I know only little English.”

I nodded. My heart sank a bit — a language barrier was inevitably going to make it hard for us to communicate, let alone become friends, but what comes out of my mouth is different.

“That’s okay.”

I helped keep the door open as she pulled her bag into the room. She takes a moment to take in the state of the place before turning back to me.

“You are American?”

“No, no,” I said with a shake of my head.

She made an O.K. sign with her hand. “But your English is very good.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Thao,” she said with a smile. “I am from Vietnam. I am here for an English program. And you?”

“Priscilla,” I answered, extending my hand towards her. She took my hand in hers and shook it lightly. “I am from—“

A loud, bubbly tune started playing in full volume, interrupting my thoughts and our conversation. Korean lyrics filled the room as I rushed to my bed, nearly tripping on thin air on the way there. I fumbled for my cellphone under the mess of pillows and hastily put it on mute the second I could get a hold of its control buttons. The screen flashed with an innocent notification — another e-mail from Leon. I could feel my face heat up from embarrassment.

“Ah, I’m so sorry about that,” I said as I walked back towards Thao.

She seemed very happy about the interruption — her eyes were practically shining in excitement. She reached into her bag and took out her own phone, my favourite band’s logo emblazoned across the cover.

“I like them too,” Thao grinned. “Their music is my favourite.”

I started grinning too. Maybe the language barrier was something we could work through after all.

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