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#Trudeau disgusts me to no end

shinra-makonoid · 2 years

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Lol are you watching the Freedom Convoy court tapping for the class action lawsuit against them? Is fucking gold! The organizers are throwing eachother under the bus over whi told who to commit crimes and fraud, GoFundMe proved they took the campaigns down because they failed to provide proof and necessary papers of where and how the money was gonna be spent and not because the government told them to plus apparently one of the organizers slipped and said "they are taking away my daughter tuition money!" but tried to take it back real quick, one of the organizers recorded videos saying native culture is disgusting, white people have stronger bloodlines, that if needed he would shoot cops and he thought "it's kinda funny people haven't slept for 10 days" because they were honking and disturbing everyday citizens, one of the organizers was pretending to be native and one of them is a Qanon grandpa that said God told him to start the convoy after he got baptised.

L M FUCKING A O now Trudeau has the fair excuse that he didn't speak to them because they were fraudsters at best and proto-terrorist at worst.

I didn't watch it. Honestly it doesn't surprise me the least lmao

It's a mess. Any time those people try to do something, you end up realizing it's a scam or some shit like that.

Do you have a link to the court video? I'm interested now.

#shoujoboy-restart #ask

0 notes

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

t h e c o l o u r o f a c o n s t e l l a t i o n | elias pettersson

Summary: Life comes at you in moments. Elias and Svea are on solid ground now. Back in Vancouver after an idyllic time in Sweden, they are faced with personal decisions that will affect their future together – both on separate and different paths professionally, though personally their connection is stronger than ever. Many things are up in the air, but one thing that Svea and Elias know for sure is that they will always be together. So how hard could those decisions be?

Word Count: 15k

A/N: This is the final part of “The Space Series” although there will be an epilogue (because this bitch loves an epilogue). It’s a bit more piece-y than I wanted it to be, but at the end of the day I’m still proud of it and I hope you enjoy! We need more Petey love around here!

PART ONE - MADE OF OUTER SPACE // PART TWO - LIPS LIKE THE GALAXY’S EDGE

Svea got the text message from Grace while she was in class. I’m here to pick you up. Don’t ask questions. And don’t check your notifications.

Svea did as she was told, but that didn’t mean that her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest as she left her seminar room and saw Grace’s Porsche at the bottom of the steps of the building. When she approached, Grace reached over and opened the car door. “What’s going on?” she asked, sliding into the passenger’s seat and clutching her messenger bag against her chest.

“The stupid media picked up your stupid boyfriend saying he has a girlfriend on a stupid camera, and now it’s everywhere,” Grace explained in an annoyed voice, signalling to rejoin the road. She was very clearly annoyed, judging by how fast she rejoined the other cars and by the rev of her engine. “You know, for such a quiet guy he’s got a big mouth.”

“And how do they know it’s me?” Svea knew how stupid that question sounded the millisecond after it left her mouth. She and Grace gave each other the exact same knowing look, one that said absolutely everything that needed to be said between the two of them. It began happening as they grew closer, and now, it happened almost all the time. “Never mind. Why can’t I check my notifications?”

“Because God knows what’s going on in your DMs right now,” Grace warned. “Anyways, what do you want to do? Go shopping? Go for a manicure? How about we go for a manicure so you can’t check your phone.”

Svea couldn’t help but laugh. She knew Grace was protective – had been since that night she came over to Elias’s place with Pippa and Svea was making sausage stroganoff – but this was taking it to a whole other level. “Do you think it would be that bad?”

“If it’s anything like what I got from Brock’s fan club, then yeah, it’s pretty awful,” Grace said. “And I’m serious – manicures? You’re going to have to start getting them regularly if you want to be a hot shot lawyer,” she winked. “Or, I don’t know, the speechwriter for Chrystia Freeland or Justin Trudeau. Whatever you choose.”

***

When Svea walked into hers and Elias’s apartment later that day, after she’d been pampered with some Starbucks, a manicure, and a pedicure, and even a cheeky mimosa by Grace, she found Elias lying down on the couch scrolling through his phone. She put down her bag in its usual spot before walking over to him and lying on top of him without warning. After an entire day without him, she wanted to get close to him, to feel every inch of him.

Elias smiled as she nestled into him, ditching his phone and paying complete attention to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. When he kissed her, she sighed into the kiss, knowing that she was home and in her favourite place: the place where she felt the warmest, the most protected, the happiest she ever could feel – in his arms, of course. And as they continued kissing on the couch, not bothering to stop for air – because really, who needed air when you were kissing the love of your life? – Elias shifted their bodies so Svea was on her back, and he was on his side perching himself up with one arm while the other snuck under her button-up shirt. With his hand gliding against her bare skin and his tongue down her throat, Svea moaned slightly. Elias took the opportunity to start unbuttoning her shirt to expose her bra.

“Elias…” she breathed out.

“Shhh…” he kissed along her jawline and down her neck. His hand groped her breast. He pushed the fabric of the cup down and began kissing along the curve of her breast until he reached her nipple, sucking on it gently. Her back arched up to him. “I missed you,” he finally hummed.

“I was gone for eight hours,” she huffed out as she felt his tongue slip along her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him move towards her other breast. She was gone at least a few hours some days because of classes, so it wasn’t like her absence was out of the ordinary.

“Too long.” He sucked on her other breast. When he heard her moan again, he kissed a trail back up to her lips. Eventually, he grabbed at her wrist – the one wearing the bracelet he got her in Stockholm – and placed a kiss on the inside of it tenderly. She was trembling by the loss of his lips on her skin, but she smiled at the gesture. “Hello pretty girl,” he cooed playfully.

“You’re the worst,” she huffed again, annoyed this time.

“How was your day?”

She couldn’t believe she was sprawled out on their couch with her shirt unbuttoned and her bra pushed down with her breasts exposed and Elias was asking her how her day was. He was playing a game and she knew it. “Besides the fact that I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life? Fine,” she said. “How was your day? I heard microphones are really strong these days.”

Elias closed his eyes and groaned. He buried his head in her chest and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot sometimes. Brock told me that for such a quiet guy I have a big mouth.”

Svea snorted at the reference. For all that Grace and Brock liked to say Svea and Elias were the same person, she and Brock were astoundingly similar as well. “Grace said that too.”

“Well, you know how they are,” he said, resting his chin against her chest, in the space between her breasts.

Svea ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s fine, Elias.”

“Is it though?” he asked, worried. “I don’t want anybody to bother you. Not now, not ever. But especially this year when you have so much to figure out.”

“They’ll just be noise. They’re not a part of my life,” she assured him. “Not like you.”

Elias sighed, moving up and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled sharply, smelling her scent that he loved so much. She smelled like everything he loved about her – flowers; vanilla; lavender; the saltwater waves of the Baltic Sea crashing again the Swedish shore; the crisp Swedish air during an early morning, though now it was later in the day and they were in downtown Vancouver. She was magic to him, made of the moon and stars, and he wanted to keep her safe and happy as much as possible now that it was out in the open, however unwillingly, due to his big mouth. “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too,” she said easily. Easily because she knew – it was the only thing she was certain about in life these days. “Can you do me a favour?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you keep using your tongue, Elias?” she asked boldly, a small smirk playing on her face. She was getting more confident with all of this – not just their new situation, but the activities that accompanied their new situation. She felt safe and listened to and respected and catered to whenever she was in bed with Elias, always satisfied. Elias, for his part, was also getting more confident with everything.

“Oh?” he arched his brow at her words. “Keep using my tongue, eh?”

“Eh? Canada’s really getting to you.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, kissing her chest. “Let’s git er done,” he put on an accent.

Svea burst out laughing, shaking her head and pushing him away like she was disgusted with him as he tried to continue to kiss her. She began wiggling to get out of his grip. “Nooooo no no no no, not after you said that with that accent!” She knew his teammates were responsible for that bit of lingo coupled with the accent, and while it was hilarious, she wasn’t exactly happy with it. She knew Elias would use it constantly now.

“Come ooonnn!” he begged, laughing and grabbing at her body so she wouldn’t wiggle away.

“We lost the moment the second you put on that accent!”

>< >< >< >< ><

Svea loved the UBC campus. It was so beautiful, with enough old buildings to make it feel regal but enough new buildings to make it feel modern. And the trees – God, the trees – the campus was full of lush trees, so many and so close to the water. When she was stressed, she could always take a walk down the coast and admire the Pacific Ocean, the mountains in the distance, and the crisp British Columbia air. After being at UBC for going on four years now, she understood why her mother loved it here so much; why it was so hard for her to give up when she moved to Sweden to be with Svea’s dad; why she constantly talked about it growing up, like it was some magical place not fit for the real world. Svea understood now. She thought the same things. She didn’t think she’d ever be lucky enough to experience the things that her mother did growing up in Vancouver, but she did; she got that experience now, in university, with her own love of her life.

Despite all the stress in her life and the looming decisions she had to make, she at least had that: Elias, the love of her life.

As she grabbed her coffee from the barista and made her way to the seminar room, where she’d spend two hours learning about global uprisings, she thought about the decision she’d have to make this year. On the one hand, she could go to law school – another three years of school, articling, and then pass the bar (all hopefully in British Columbia), and then she could join a firm or open her own. She was already prepped and signed up to write the LSAT. On the other hand, she could apply to the Masters of Public Policy and Global Governance program – another year and a half of school, gain her Masters, and then hopefully work in politics, but in the background, like a chief of staff or a senior advisor or even a speechwriter. She had all the prerequisites and knew she could get in.

But which one did she want to do?

Svea settled into her seat beside her friend Devansh, greeting him with pleasant conversation while taking out her laptop, notebook, and textbook, flipping it open to the chapter that she knew the professor would be lecturing about. Her big decision seemed to be the only thing she thought about these days besides Elias. But the more she thought about it, the more stressed she got. And the more stressed she got, the more—

“So, like, you’re dating Elias Pettersson?” her friend Francesca asked as she plopped down into the seat beside her dramatically. Instead of grabbing her notebook and laptop out of her bag like she usually did, she was intently focused on Svea who was sipping on her coffee innocently.

“Wait – Elias Pettersson, like from the Vancouver Canucks?” Devansh perked up once he heard the name being tossed around. “That can’t be…that’s not…no.”

“Wow, Dev,” Svea deadpanned.

“Wait – you are?” his eyebrows raised.

“H-How did you know?” Svea focused back on Francesca, still perky, still not taking out her laptop, still not taking out her notebooks.

“So apparently Petey said something on camera? And this journalist from the Vancouver Sun, like, scoured his Instagram and his tagged photos and found your profile kept popping up tagged in pictures with him, so the two and two were put together, and there’s an article about it on their website today! It came up as a notification on my phone!” Francesca held up her phone as if it was still there. It wasn’t – it was full of Snapchat notifications, but the point still stood. “I mean, they’re right, aren’t they? Svea Nilsson…you are dating Elias Pettersson?”

Svea was mortified. Elias had the common sense to just say he had a girlfriend out loud, not broadcast her name for the microphones to pick up too, but they’d found her profile anyway – by stalking his, essentially. She thought things would die down, especially because her profile had always been private, and though she did get some intense DMs like Grace knew she would, there wasn’t a bombardment and she’d just deleted them all without looking at them. Now that her name was published in a newspaper, she had an entirely new problem on her hands.

She noticed Dev and Francesca were still waiting for an answer. “I…yeah, I’m dating him,” she said meekly, not wanting to say too much.

“How did you even meet him?” Francesca asked. “I mean, no offence, but you don’t exactly come out with us a lot.”

“He’s my childhood best friend,” she said, immediately putting an end to the notion that she’d met him at some bar. “I…I grew up with him. We’ve been best friends since we were three and he essentially followed me to Vancouver because I came here first. He’s the person I live with and—”

“Wait – you live with him?!” Dev was shocked at her revelation. Svea was always pretty secretive of why she never moved into a place near campus after first year, and always eluded questions as to how she was able to afford a pricey apartment in Yaletown. Now he knew. “You live with him and that’s why you live in Yaletown?”

“Yeah. We…” she stopped herself, not wanting to reveal too much. “It’s…I’m dating him, okay?”

“Svea, this is huge,” Francesca’s tone was a mix of serious and excited.

Francesca said it as if Svea didn’t know how much of a big deal it was that she was dating the biggest star on the Vancouver Canucks. Svea knew how much of a big deal it was. Clearly. If people from newspapers were stalking Elias’s profile to see who she was, it was a big deal. It was just that, Elias, as a person, wasn’t a big deal to her. He was her best friend. He wasn’t the star first line centre. “Yeah, I know.”

“Massive,” Dev commented too. “Well I’m happy for you if you’re happy, Svea.”

“Secure that bag, girl,” Francesca quipped.

Before Svea’s jaw dropped, and before her brain could function to say anything to Francesca, their professor walked into the room and greeted the class loudly, thus ending their conversation. He almost immediately started lecturing.

Svea began typing, and Francesca was scrambling to get everything out of her bag.

>< >< >< >< ><

“It’s ready, pretty girl,” Elias called from the kitchen as he finished stirring the pasta in its sauce. He looked over at Svea sitting at the dining room table, head in a giant textbook that looked menacing to him. She looked so concentrated and focused on what she was reading, but when she heard his voice, she looked up momentarily. She let out a loud sigh.

Elias remembered back to the summer, back in Sweden, when they went to Emma Gardner’s dinner party and he was intimidated by Soren’s supposed ‘smarts’ and how emotional he got by it all the next morning. When they came back to Vancouver and Svea began her last year of university, he wanted to change things. As much as they resolved the issue right then and there, he knew he needed to do more – and he was willing to do more. He was making a big effort to be in the know – not exactly to understand everything she was studying, but to at least know what it was. Now that he was with Svea, he wasn’t the most important person in his life anymore – it was her. He needed her to know that. He made sure to show it to her every day, through his actions, his words, and his priorities when he was away from hockey.

When he brought the plates over, he wouldn’t set hers down in front of her until she kissed him. The textbook was cleared by then, off to the side where she didn’t have to look at it while she ate with him. When they came back to Vancouver and she began her last year of university, she wanted to change things. She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t be distracted by school work during meals, especially meals with Elias. She could tell Elias was making a huge effort to know more about her studies, and she wanted to reciprocate. There was no way she wouldn’t put in the same effort he was into the relationship. Now that she was with Elias, she wasn’t the most important person in her life anymore – it was him. She needed him to know that. She made sure to show it to him every day, through her actions, her words, and her priorities when she wasn’t engaging with school.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he settled into his seat across from her after their kiss.

She nodded her head. “Just reading about the Cuban Revolution.”

“Is it interesting?” he asked.

“Interesting enough,” she shrugged. She began digging into her pasta in vodka sauce. Now that Elias had finally mastered the art of cooking some pasta, and didn’t over or undercook it every time, she could enjoy him making dinner at least once or twice a week now. Though the first time he cooked ravioli was an absolute fucking shit show (there was spinach and ricotta floating everywhere in the pot because he left them in too long and they all burst open), he’d gotten the hang of penne, spaghetti, and fettucine. “How was the gym with Brock?”

“Same old,” he answered, eating his pasta. “Grace told him how much you were screaming at the game the other night.”

Svea snorted. She’s almost embarrassed herself by how much she was screaming and swearing. She didn’t know what came over her. “It was pretty bad. I’m surprised she left with me, to be honest. She wasn’t even that loud, and you know how she gets.”

“I can’t believe it took Vancouver to get you to scream at my games,” Elias quipped.

Svea laughed, but the comment panged her a little bit. Growing up in Sweden, she was always at his games, but her head was, as Brigitte so lovingly put it, ‘always in a book instead of in his lap’. It wasn’t that she didn’t care – because she did, she knew how much hockey meant to Elias – it was just that she had different interests. But she was always there; she always supported him. Suddenly, she wondered if that was enough. “Did…did that make you mad?” she asked softly.

“Did what make me mad?”

“Me being quiet at your games growing up. Me having a book in the stands and reading in between periods,” she said. He knew because the girls told him as a means of gossip. “Like, did you hate it?”

“Of course not,” he furrowed his brows. “Why would I hate that?”

“I don’t know…”

“Svea, I hate nothing about you,” Elias said. “Not even the fact that you’ve started to talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“Then what do I say?”

“Oooooh, Elias, right there.”

She kicked him underneath the table, but he was ready for it, grabbing her foot with his free hand. “You’re an ass,” she sneered.

“So you don’t have wet dreams about me?”

“You wish,” she stuck her tongue out like a child, causing him to smile and laugh.

“For what it’s worth,” he began, trailing his hand up her leg, “I didn’t care about any of that. You reading at games or whatever. You’re your own person, Svea. I don’t care what anybody said. The fact that you were there was enough for me – like, the fact that I could see you in the stands with my family or whatever. When you made it back to Vaxjo after flying in from Vancouver, and you watched me score that game winning goal and then surprised me on the ice – Svea, that was, like, one of the greatest moments of my life. And it wasn’t because I’d just won the championship. It was because you were there for it.”

Svea smiled. Elias knew to say all the right things, but what was better than just saying them was knowing that he meant them, fully and completely. “I love you, Elias.”

“I love you too, Svea. More than anything,”

There was a comfortable silence between them as they ate dinner, Svea’s foot still propped up in Elias’s lap after she’d tried to kick him. “Are you going to be able to come to the game on Saturday?” he asked once they were almost finished.

She nodded. “I’ll finish this reading tonight easily and I’ll be back yelling in no time.”

“Good,” he smiled. “I like it when you’re loud.”

She kicked him again.

***

“Brock reminded me that Grace is setting the date soon for the next Parkinson’s gala,” Elias said later that night, after dinner and after clean up and Svea finished her reading and after they cuddled on the couch and after they watched a few episodes of Jeopardy at Svea’s request like an old married couple. They’d gotten themselves ready for bed and Svea watched as Elias fluffed up their pillows while she pulled the covers back.

“That’ll be fun,” Svea said. “Every time we’ve gone it’s been a blast. I can’t wait.”

“And we have Dice and Ice again this year too. I wonder if they’ll make me play Family Feud again,” he mused as they both got into bed.

Svea giggled. “Maybe this time you can announce to six hundred people that you finally have a girlfriend – oh wait, you already did that a few weeks ag—HEY!”

Elias pulled her into his body in one quick tug and wrapped his arms around her, peppering her face with kisses as she began to laugh at the sensation. He flipped her around so she was beneath him. “Yeah yeah, I’ve got a big mouth, I know,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck as he bit down on it gently.

“Mmm,” Svea hummed, enjoying the feeling like she always did. “How about you remind me what else you can do with that mouth.”

A low chuckle erupted from deep within Elias. “With pleasure,” he smiled devilishly. Almost immediately, he shoved her old t-shirt (technically, his old t-shirt) up and over her head and moved down her body. He hooked his fingers into the hem of her shorts and pulled them off too, watching as he saw a smirk appear on her face. “What’s got you smiling, pretty girl?”

“You,” she purred. “I’ll always regret waiting so long to be with you. We could have had so much more time together.”

Elias brought himself back up, placing a tender kiss on her lips. “Don’t regret that. We have the rest of our lives together, pretty girl. We always did.”

Svea smiled, pulling him down by the neck to kiss him again. The universe knew that them being together was always endgame; it just took them longer to realize. She liked Elias’s optimism – not focusing on what was in the past, but instead focusing on the future. “Elias…” she mumbled in between kisses.

“Hmm?”

“Show me I’m yours,” she whispered. She knew it would set him off completely, just like it did the first time, just like it did subsequent times since. “Show me I’m yours, Elias.”

He audibly groaned, slipping his way back down her body before forcing her legs apart and lowering his face between them, lapping and sucking so expertly that Svea was squirming within no time. Her pants and callouts of his name only fueled him as time went on, and when she ran her fingers through his blonde hair and tugged on it, he let out his own groan.

“Fuuuuuck,” she breathed out, tugging on his hair even more. “You’re so…your tongue is so good Elias.” He moaned at the sound of her voice, the vibrations causing her to squirm even more. He brought his arm around her thigh and held her hips down. It made her huff out in slight frustration. “Elias.”

His only response was to push down harder. Her response was to pull his hair as tight as she could and squeeze his head between her thighs. All the while, he kept up his movements, looking up at her with his striking, beady blue eyes. “You taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her wet lips. “So sweet for me.”

“Elias—”

“Are you gonna cum on my face, pretty girl?”

Svea nodded her head fervently. “I’m so close.”

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, the vibrations yet again making her squirm. “Cum for me, Svea.”

Svea arched her back, and after a few short moments, she was screaming out his name, squeezing his head in between her thighs even tighter than before. Elias kept lapping until she calmed down, sucking up the last of her juices before looking up at her again. “I could taste you all day, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her lips, the last thing he did before moving up her body and placing open-mouthed kisses and dragging his lips along her stomach and up to her breasts.

“I need you inside of me right now,” she said, her breath hot and frantic as she moved to wrap her legs around him.

“So impatient,” Elias mused.

“Fuck me, Elias. I can’t wait anymore.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. When she felt him enter her, quickly and in one swift movement, she dug her nails into the skin on his shoulder blades and almost immediately rocked her hips against his, trying to get him even deeper. “Svea…” he groaned out, feeling how deep he was inside of her. “Svea…fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?”

She nodded. She couldn’t help it. She was desperate. She was always desperate for him. Desperate for his voice, his touch, the sound of him, his smile, his laugh, how he filled her up, how he felt above her and beneath her – everything about him. “You like it when I’m loud, right?” she asked.

Elias’s eyes bulged for a moment. “Y—Yes.”

“You want me to be loud?”

His pupils dilated. “Yes.”

“Let me ride you.”

Svea wrapped her arms around Elias so he would stay inside her before he turned onto his back. She quickly got comfortable, adjusting slightly, and Elias brought his hands up and their hands intertwined, letting her lean against his elbows so she had something to brace against. When she began to rock back and forth slowly, he let out a groan. “You feel incredible, baby,” Svea said as she quickened her pace slightly.

“You do, too,” Elias said quickly. She began to moan loudly, like she knew he wanted and liked, and she could see his eyes practically roll to the back of his head. Elias liked knowing that it was him who made her feel this way. As she continued her noises, he didn’t know where to focus – her hips, her breasts, her eyes, how his cock had disappeared inside her – but he knew that everything felt good. He was left speechless by everything.

She led his hands to cup her breasts, but he had other ideas. Instead, he used his arms to push himself up so he could kiss them instead, his hands on her back. He remembered back to their little rendezvous at the lake during Midsommar, what she’d done and the quiet confidence in which she’d done it. He had obviously never done anything like that before. “When we get married these are going to be all mine,” he mumbled against her breasts, licking at the space on her chest where he remembered his cum covering her.

“They already are,” Svea mumbled, lost in the feeling. She brought her hands up to run through his hair so she could tug on it and so he could look her in the eye. When he was, she said what she wanted to say – what she knew he wanted to hear. “I’m all yours.”

Elias smiled. “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” Svea repeated.

They kissed, wet and sloppy, and Svea could feel herself getting close again. She dug her nails into the skin at the nape of Elias’s neck. When he felt her walls tighten around him, and heard her cries of pleasure at the feeling, he came completely undone as well. They clung on to each other, riding out their highs for a long as they could until they finally settled down, their breathing laboured and shaky, their chests heaving less and less as the time went by. Neither let go of each other. There was no need to.

Elias slipped out of her slowly, and Svea whimpered at the loss of feeling him fill her. He wrapped his arms around her as he fell back slowly, laying them on the bed. They stayed close, wrapped in each other, giving each other quick, soft kisses. “I love you,” Elias mumbled, his voice tired.

Svea smiled slightly. “I love you too.”

>< >< >< >< ><

An advertising executive must schedule the advertising during a particular television show. Seven different consecutive time slots are available for advertisements during a commercial break, and are numbered one through seven in the order that they will be aired. Seven different advertisements – B, C, D, F, H, J, and K – must be aired during the show. Only one advertisement can occupy each time slot. The assignment of the advertisements to the slots is subject to the following restrictions: • B and D must occupy consecutive time slots. • B must be aired during an earlier time slot than K. • D must be aired during a later time slot than H. • If H does not occupy the fourth time slot, then F must occupy the fourth time slot. • K and J cannot occupy consecutively numbered time slots.

Svea read over the logic puzzle three times, breathing harder every time. She wrote the requisite lines and letters. She moved on to the first questions.

1. Which of the following could be a possible list of the advertisements in the order that they are aired? a. BDFHJCK b. CJBHDKF c. HBDFJCK d. HDBFKJC e. HJDBFKC

Svea tried not to panic as she tried to work out the first question based on the parameters presented to her. When she took at her answer, then at the options, none of them matched. She tried again. No match again. She tried not to panic irrationally, but when she tried a third time, she still couldn’t get the right answer. She felt her cheeks heat up and her eyes start to well. No. No. There’s no crying in doing logic puzzles. She moved on to the next question, seeing if she could at least solve that one, but she couldn’t. Okay, back to question one. She tried a combination one more time and finally, finally found a match, so she circled the option.

She checked her time. Six minutes had passed, and she had five more questions to answer based on this logic puzzle alone. On the LSAT, they got about eight minutes per entire puzzle and four puzzles, for a total of around 35 minutes for this section. So she was severely behind. Like, severely. She looked at the note in the margins of her book.

This is generally considered one of the easier questions.

Svea whimpered. Audibly. She felt a few tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to move on to the second question, realizing it was now predicated upon the answer from the first. Seven minutes. And based on the wording of the question, her answer for the first one was wrong. It wasn’t even possible.

She let out a sob.

Eight minutes. She’d officially already failed this section of the LSAT.

As she tried to wipe her tears away with the backs of her hands, she heard the lightest knock on the door. As she looked over, she saw Elias’s head peek through the doorway, a bowl in his hands. “I brought you some raspberries,” he said softly, closing the door behind him. “How’s it going?”

Svea shook her head and started to cry again. “Elias…”

“Heeeyyyyy hey hey,” Elias cooed, rushing over to her and putting the bowl on the desk. He pushed out her chair, moving it so she was facing him, and knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Elias, will you still love me if I fail?”

“Svea—”

“Be honest,” she interrupted. “Will you still love me if I fail the LSAT and don’t get into law school and don’t get into grad school and just become a bum? Will you?”

“Svea, don’t say stuff like that,” he said, running his hands up and down her thighs trying to sooth her.

Svea shook her head fervently. “I’m dumb. I’m so dumb,” she whimpered out.

“You know you’re not dumb, Svea—”

“But I am!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t even do this logic puzzle in time. I had eight minutes and I couldn’t do it. And it’s one of the easier ones! Imagine me sitting in that room trying to write the LSAT and I can’t even get past the logic puzzles!”

“Shhhhh,” he cooed, bringing his hands up to cup her face. He began wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, still kneeling in front of her. “Svea, you know that I love you more than anything. I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Even if I fail?”

“You won’t fail. But even if you fail, yes, I will still love you,” he nodded, knowing it was what she needed to hear right now. She wouldn’t have dropped it if he didn’t say those words.

“And here you are, bringing me raspberries like a good boyfriend and I can’t even get a log—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Elias warned. “Svea, it’s fine. You’re probably just very tired. You had a day full of classes, then homework, now this. I bet when you have a fresh and well-rested brain tomorrow, it will be much easier for you.”

Svea whimpered again, wrapping her arms around Elias and squeezing him against her chest. He was such a good boyfriend, always bringing her snacks or water or tea without her even having to ask, and she was just being a blubbering mess. She’d missed some of his games lately due to her studying and she felt horrible about it, and it all led to this: he was the one still comforting her about the long-term goal of why she was even studying in the first place.

“And Svea?”

“Hmmm?”

“You know I’ll always love you. You know that you’re going to be successful. This is just a little bump, that’s all.”

She took a moment to consider his words. She knew he was right, but it took her a while to digest. She hated that it did – that it took her so long – but her mind was off right now, overtired and overworked from a full day. “Maybe I should go to bed,” she mumbled as her head rested in the crook of Elias’s neck.

Elias didn’t even have to say anything. All he did was move to pick her up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his torso, and he carried her across the apartment to his bedroom, now their bedroom, with her face still tucked. He could feel her tears on his skin, and when he lay her down gently on the bed, he made sure to wipe the rest of them away before he began undressing her, helping tug her shirt off and pulling off her jeans, leaving her in just her underwear. He did the same quickly, stripping down to his boxers before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over them.

They gravitated towards each other in bed like they always did, Elias wrapping an arm around her and Svea tangling their legs together. He began running his fingers gently through her hair and could hear her sigh, like she was letting out all her frustrations, all her nerves, and all her stress. “I love you, pretty girl,” he said softly as he continued his motions, knowing that it would soothe her, calm her down, just like it did for him when she did so. It was one of the best feelings in the world, when he thought about it.

“I love you too, even when I’m in my own head too much,” she responded, her voice soft and almost a whisper, but there was enough there. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

>< >< >< >< ><

Back in her global uprisings course, Svea took a moment to stretch as the professor gave them a five minute bathroom and coffee break. She debated on whether or not to go down to the main floor and get a coffee and croissant, or just stick it out until lunch time. She made sure to save her notes before she closed her laptop.

She’d finally gotten the hang of the logic puzzles and was doing them like crazy now. She’d seen advertisements on the bulletin board on the main floor for LSAT prep classes, and she wondered if she should take another round of them, even though she’d taken them last year as well. But then she had the fact that she needed to finish her application for her Master’s. There were a few more things to do on the supplemental application and some other things she needed to perfect before submitting it. She’d need someone to look it over. She needed to make sure the professors she’d asked to be references actually wrote their letters. She needed to—

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Francesca asked suddenly, snapping Svea from her thoughts.

“I’m thinking about the LSAT,” Svea decided to be honest with her. “The LSAT and my application to grad school.”

“The LSAT? Grad school?” Francesca asked like it was the most absurd thing that Svea was continuing her education and applying to these programs. “What’s the point, Svea?”

Svea furrowed her brows. “What do you mean what’s the point? I want to work in law and politics. You know that.”

“I mean, what’s the point when you’re with Elias now?”

Svea’s body stiffened at Francesca’s words. “What do you mean? I have to make a living, Francesca.”

“Do you? Do you really? Isn’t Elias gonna be signing, like, a huge contract at the end of this year? Do you honestly think you’re going to need to work to support yourself for the rest of your life when he’s going to be making, like, ten million dollars a year? Minus endorsements? I mean doesn’t he already support you?”

Svea was taken aback by Francesca’s line of questioning, and, to be honest, deeply hurt by it as well. Did Svea give off the airs and graces that she was fine with being a kept woman? Had she ever made it seem like she didn’t want to do anything with her life? That she didn’t care? She didn’t think she did ever. But for some reason, Francesca was bringing it up. “Francesca, I can’t let my boyfriend support me for the rest of my life.”

“You can’t? Because I can,” she quipped. She said it in a joking manner but Svea knew she was completely serious. The next line of questioning confirmed it for her. “I mean, does Elias have any teammates? Brock Boeser maybe? Or is he still with that Gillespie girl? The billionaire?”

Svea furrowed her brows. She didn’t like the direction this conversation was going, and she didn’t want Francesca anywhere near Brock or Grace. “They’re still together. He’s madly in love with her,” she mumbled before turning away from her and back to her laptop.

“Damn. Should’ve told me you were dating Elias earlier so I could’ve jumped at the chance.”

“Hmm,” Svea hummed, just to acknowledge what she said. She began typing something so Francesca would leave her alone.

When class was finished, Svea took out her phone and immediately texted Elias.

I’m going to be the most horrible housewife on the planet

Svea wtf are you talking about

Francesca said today I didn’t have to apply to law school or grad school because now I have you to take care of me It was the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever heard

Not even thirty seconds later, her phone began to ring. When she picked it up, Elias didn’t even greet with any formalities. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, too,” he said. “I mean, who says something like that?”

“Someone who wishes she was kept, I guess. I mean, she asked about Brock afterwards and I had to break her heart and tell her that he’s still madly in love with Grace.”

“What do you mean kept?”

“It’s a saying. It’s like a girl who has a nice and lavish lifestyle because of a rich man,” she explained.

Elias was silent on the other end trying to understand what Svea was explaining to him. “Did she just call you a prostitute? Or one of those sugarbaby things or whatever?”

Svea snorted. “In her own way, probably. I mean, when you think about it…” Svea tried to joke, seeing the humour in the situation, finally. Elias did pay for most things and Svea did enjoy a nice, comfortable life because of it – an apartment in Yaletown, access to a luxury car, an $8000 gold bracelet screwed onto her wrist…

But that didn’t mean she was kept. They were equal partners in their relationship. There was no power dynamic. Elias didn’t do those things and provide her with what he did because he wanted to control her, or because he wanted to have sex with her, or because he wanted to keep her at home all the time doing nothing besides looking pretty and being ready in bed for him. He did it because he genuinely loved her, because she was his best friend, his soulmate, his sun and his moon and his stars, and because he could, because what the hell else was he going to do with all this money? Spend it on himself? He already did that and there was a ton left over. Who better to spend it on than Svea?

“What is it with everyone trying to get into our business? We’re happy this way. It works for us. What the fuck does it matter?” Elias asked. “And why is everybody so obsessed with money?”

“It makes the world turn, Elias.”

She heard him huff on the other end. “Just…don’t worry about what she says. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to law school or grad school or you’re doing what you want to do and that’s that.”

“Why did I have to love debating in high school? Why did I have to like law and politics? Why couldn’t I have loved to bake and like…I don’t know, opened up some hipster coffee shop here or in Stockholm and just made coffee and cake and cookies all day?”

“Because then you wouldn’t have been Svea,” Elias said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You would have been someone else. And I don’t know who that someone else is, but it’s not you.”

And he was right. He was so fucking right that Svea was taken aback by the simplicity of his words but just how deep they were; how they hit the nail right on the head and how they were just so…right. She wouldn’t be the same person if she never debated, if she was never a precarious kid checking out books at the library. She wouldn’t be the same person if she had baked cakes and cookies and opened some hipster coffee shop with vegan treats made exclusively from organic ingredients. She wouldn’t be the same Svea. She wouldn’t be the Svea Elias loved. She wouldn’t be the Svea her friends loved. She wouldn’t be the Svea her family loved, that Elias’s family loved. She almost teared up for how right he was. “Thank you, Elias,” she said softly, not knowing what else to say.

“For what?”

“For loving me the way I am.”

She could practically hear him smile bashfully on the other end. “I love you for the way you’ve always been, too. And the way you’ll be.”

She knew he would. That was the best part.

>< >< >< >< ><

Svea clicked send.

Your application to the University of British Columbia’s Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs has been received. You will receive a confirmation email with your application number shortly.

She took a deep breath. Now she waited.

***

Svea clicked send.

Your application to the Peter A. Allard School of Law at the University of British Columbia has been received. You will receive an email shortly confirming your application.

She took a deep breath. Now she waited.

>< >< >< >< ><

“It would be chic to wear black, right?” Svea asked Grace as they scoured through the racks of dresses at Holt Renfrew, the iconic upscale Canadian department store, looking for something to wear to the upcoming Dice & Ice fundraiser the Canucks held annually. Grace loved to shop, and she was good at it, so Svea was confident they’d find something to wear.

“Well, it’s always chic to wear black,” Grace said as she pulled out a beige coloured, skin-tight dress. She took a good, long look at it before deciding it wasn’t the one and pushing it back in. “But you need to spruce it up a bit.”

“Spruce it up?”

“You’ve got a great body and you need to show it off. You’ve been wearing your knit sweaters for so long that I’ve forgotten what your boobs look like, Svea.”

She snorted. Leave it to Grace, the professional dancer with the near perfect body, to mention her boobs. “Grace, I barely have boobs.”

“Doesn’t matter. You can still show off your figure. It’s to die for. And I’m sure Petey would love it.”

Well, that was true. Svea kept that in her mind as they continued to look through racks and racks of dresses, never quite finding the right one, though they pulled some to try on just in case. Grace always had something to say about the dresses Svea pulled – “You’re going to look like my uncle’s fourth ex-wife if you wear that” or “That looks like something a retired art teacher would wear”. Svea couldn’t help but laugh. She was thankful to have Grace along for this ride since Grace had a sense of style and what would look good on her body; if she wasn’t here, Svea wouldn’t probably end up picking a dress that made her look like a 17th century peasant woman from Croatia ready to milk the cows. As Grace would say.

They verged into the designer departments. Grace picked out a dress from Dolce and Gabbana, and handed one from Gucci to Svea. They checked in Yves Saint Laurent and Versace but there was nothing. Chloe. Louis Vuitton. Celine. Miu Miu.

“What about this one?” Svea asked, pulling out a gorgeous dress from the Miu Miu rack.

From down the line, Grace looked up. “It’s black.” Svea took it off the bar completely, holding it against her body, showing its crystal-studded top. “Ooooooooh,” Grace’s jaw dropped at the detailing. She immediately let go of the dress she’d pulled out and walked over to Svea. “Now that’s a good one.”

“You think?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head fervently. “Let’s go try these all on now. I need to see that dress on you.”

The first few dresses Svea tried on and modeled for Grace didn’t “work”, according to her. There was something off about them – a hemline, a cut, the fact that it made Svea look like a nun – that sent them back on the hanger. But when Svea put on the Miu Miu dress she pulled, even just seeing herself in the dressing room with it half on, she knew it would look good. “Um…I think I’m going to need to take off my bra for this one,” she called out to Grace is the dressing room beside her.

“Then take it off.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of side-boob. I’m not sure that’s appropriate for a gala raising money for children…”

“Nothing a little double-sided boob tape can’t fix,” Grace retorted. “Now get out here so I can see.”

Svea pulled back the curtain. When she did, Grace’s jaw dropped. Grace was standing in a beautiful dress of her own, but she didn’t even care – her full attention was on Svea now, and the dress she was wearing. “Oh…my…God,” she gave Svea a complete up-down, a giant smile forming on her face afterwards. “This is perfect. This is it.”

“But what about this?” Svea moved to show Grace her side profile.

“Like I said, boob tape. But we’ll bring it to a tailor as well. We want this thing pinched in and showing off that body.” Grace approached her, moving them so that they stood in front of a mirror together with Grace behind her. Svea could feel her hands on the low backline of the dress. Grace tugged on it. “See?” she said, getting Svea to look in the mirror. Even just the simple pinch covered up some of the side boob – enough that Svea felt more comfortable and more appropriate. “Now imagine what my tailor can do. This thing will fit you like a glove when he’s done with it.”

Svea nodded her head. She did look good. And she had a feeling Elias would like the open back and the fact it would be tight. Elias liked her in anything but her dressing up did something to him. He would treat her as a present he needed to unwrap. “Is there any point in trying on anything else?” she smiled.

Grace smiled back. “No way.”

***

“D’you ever think about marriage?” Grace asked suddenly as she and Svea ate lunch at Coast, raw oysters in between them arranged perfectly on a platter.

Svea was taken aback by the question, which was posed out of the blue. She thought anybody would be, all things considered. “Uh…sometimes. Why?”

“I just think of you and Elias a lot. And Brock and I, obviously, but more so you and Elias. Because, like, we both know you guys are going to get married one day. I mean, so will Brock and I…but…I don’t know. Do you ever just think of what marriage will be like?”

Svea knew what Grace was trying to get at. In her own roundabout way, she was expressing a deep-rooted fear. Not of marriage in and of itself – the act of it, of getting a legal document and signing it and being attached to a person through marriage – but the dynamics of it instead. How to make it work. Communication. Trust. Traveling. Schedules. Children. Her parents notoriously didn’t speak to each other after their horrible divorce and used her and their lawyers as pawns. She got along well with her step-brothers and all was well and fine now, as an adult, but divorce traumatizes kids. “I do.”

“What do you think your marriage with Elias will be like?”

“Comfortable,” Svea said without any thought. She felt the need to clarify. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just mean that like…I think it will be easy. Easier. We’ve known each other our whole lives and our relationship is already strong. I don’t think that signing a document and becoming husband and wife will drastically change anything in our relationship.”

“Because it’s bound to happen,” Grace said.

“Exactly,” Svea nodded her head. “Like I know it will change, but not by much. And Elias and I talk about what we want and what we want to do, and we sort of just, like…already know. So it’s not going be this, like, seismic shift. He’ll still be Elias. He’ll just be my husband, Elias.”

Grace nodded her head. She thought long and hard about what Svea was saying. She envied Svea, somewhat, because she also had good role models in her parents to base a marriage off of. Grace didn’t really have that luxury – though she had her mom and her step-dad now, but that was different. Because after everything that happened in the divorce, Grace couldn’t look at marriage the same way. “Do you ever look to your parents and what they went through?”

“Somewhat. I mean my mom uprooted her whole life for my dad. She moved to a foreign country and learned the language and brought up two daughters in a small town…I don’t think they would have lasted if she didn’t know my dad loved her unconditionally like Elias loves me now,” Svea explained. “I mean they obviously weren’t perfect but they provide a great example. Same with Elias’s parents. I think they provided a good example for him.”

“When I think about my mom and dad, and what happened with them, it doesn’t make me scared about Brock and I, because I know we’re different,” Grace began. “But what gets me scared is, like, the possibility. Like there’s always a possibility we could end up like them.”

Svea shook her head. “You can’t wage your happiness on a possibility, Grace,” she said sternly. “If we go by that logic, of possibilities, that means there’s a possibility that Elias would cheat on me and break us up.”

“That would never happen. Elias would never do that to you.”

“Exactly,” Svea said. “You and Brock are nothing like your parents. So let me ask you the same question. What do you think your marriage with Brock will be like?”

Unlike Svea, who answered with one word in a heartbeat, Grace thought about it for a while. It wasn’t because she wasn’t confident in their relationship – she was – and it wasn’t because she couldn’t see herself married to Brock – she could – but it was more so because what she had with Brock was indescribable. It had all happened pretty quickly, but everything about it felt right, and felt like it was supposed to happen. Marriage would feel the same way. Having kids would feel the same way. “Comfortable,” Grace repeated Svea’s word. “Because he gives me a sense of comfort than no-one else has. He makes me feel safe and happy all the time. And because we want the same things. We always have.”

Svea smiled. “See? Comfort isn’t a bad thing. Not everything has to be a rollercoaster.”

Grace nodded. She knew Svea was right. She just wished she didn’t have such bad examples to base a marriage on. Svea was wise and knew these things because she had good examples. “Has Elias ever brought up marriage?”

Svea smirked slightly, grabbing her water to take a sip so she could avoid the question. Grace wiggled in her seat excitedly, knowing the answer based on her response. “In passing, mostly. We were in bed once, too.”

“Oh God, did he propose once when you two were having sex?”

Svea snorted. “No, thank God. Nothing awkward like that. It was more so, like…” she trailed off, wondering if she should even say anything. She told Grace pretty much everything these days. “When we get married, so and so…” she mimicked Elias’s voice.

“Ah, I get it,” Grace nodded. “I once gave Brock a blowjob so good he called me his wife afterwards.”

Svea burst out laughing, which caused Grace to laugh as well. Both of the girls had to wipe away tears and take a drink of water before they could resume talking. “Brock would totally do something like that,” Svea commented.

“I know. He’s so predictable,” Grace rolled her eyes playfully. “Is it weird these things happen with our boyfriends during sex? I swear they only share one brain cell.”

“They definitely do, but we love them for it.”

>< >< ><

“Do you want to marry me?”

If Svea was a dog, her ears would have perked up like someone was opening the treat bag. She and Elias had finished dinner and had been cuddling on the couch when Svea thought they needed a snack and went to go microwave a bag of popcorn. The question didn’t make her nervous because she knew the answer. If anything, she wondered what exactly it would lead to. “Of course I do.”

“Now or eventually?” he asked again.

“Eventually,” she answered.

“Why not now?”

Svea poured the popcorn into the bowl. “Because I don’t know what I’m going with my life yet, and I think it’s important to establish that before I get married.”

“So if you establish it, we would be able to get married?” he asked, using her logic.

“Eliiiiaaaaas…” she elongated his name, taking the bowl and bringing it back to the couch. He sounded like a four year old with all of his questions. “What’s this about?”

“I’m just wondering when we can get married,” he said like it was so simple.

“Why are you wondering that?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Elias, we’re only twenty-two,” Svea said. She wanted to turn the tables. “And besides, do you want to marry me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my soulmate,” he said automatically. “Because I love you more than anything. And we waited long enough to get together, so why wait to get married?”

“Elias…” she whispered. Instead of sitting down by his side like she had been, she straddled his lap. It brought them much closer, of course, and Svea could look at him face-to-face. She brought her hands up to cradle his face. “Listen to me. I love you. I want to marry you. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, okay? None whatsoever. But there are a lot of things happening this year between me and my future and you and your contract,” she said. “I feel…I feel like once all of that is…I don’t know, settled, then we can start seriously think about getting married. And I can’t do that when everything is up in the air with me.”

Elias moved into her touch, eventually nodding his head. He looked so cute and his lips were so pouty, Svea felt like kissing him right then. But she knew she couldn’t until they finished their very serious conversation. “I just don’t want to wait. I’ve already waited too long for you, you know?” he asked.

“I know. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not be,” he mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head against her chest. She moved her hands so one was still cradling his face while she ran her fingers through his hair with the other. “I hope you don’t think I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“You’re not.”

“I just really want to marry you. I really want you to be my wife. I know it’s probably stupid of me but I don’t care how young we are. I would’ve married you at eighteen.”

Svea smiled. “If we hadn’t denied our feelings for each other we probably would have been dumb and done it,” she laughed. “But you’ve gotta get me a ring first.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’ll make sure the ring is bigger than your eyeball.”

“And you still gotta kneel. I want the whole kit and kaboodle. I don’t care that I know it’s happening. You still have to kneel and ask me.”

She felt Elias smile against her, giggling slightly. “I plan on it. I meant it when I said that time in Stockholm wasn’t the last time I would kneel in front of you.”

“Good,” Svea smiled.

“But we can still get a pet, right?”

Svea snorted. She was very, very, very well aware of how much he wanted a pet. With Diesel, Whiskey, and Tequila far away in Sweden with Fanny and Emil, he had limited access to animals. And after spending practically the entire summer with them, he was desperate for some animal contact. Grace bringing Pippa around was always nice, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t cuddle with Pippa whenever he wanted. Pippa wasn’t at his home. “Elias.”

“What if I brought home an iguana one day?”

“No,” she said loudly, pulling away from him so his head wasn’t on her chest anymore. He had a cheeky smile on his face. “I told you to stop sending me reptiles to adopt.”

“But what if—”

“If you bring home an iguana or a reptile or God forbid a snake, you’re not allowed to marry me anymore.”

“Whooooooaaaaaa whoa whoa hey hey hey, let’s not get crazy here,” he held up his hands. “Okay, I’ll stop sending the reptiles. But that means I can send you more dogs.”

“Okay, deal,” she smiled, finally getting her opportunity to kiss him. “You’re lucky I’m already crazy for you, because you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed happily, snaking his hands up her shirt. “I’m crazy for you too. And I can think of a few crazy things we can get up to right now.”

>< >< >< >< ><

“Elias—”

“—Svea—”

“—Elias we’re already late—”

“—Pull up your dress—"

“—Eli—oh, oh Jesus,” Svea felt herself getting pushed against their bedroom’s glass window. Elias was behind her pulling her dress up and bunching it around her hips. She could hear the buckle of his belt clink as he rushed to get it unbuckled. “Elias—”

“Bend over.”

She let out a hot sigh as she did what she was told, trying to grip onto the glass as she bent over slightly, her ass sticking out and grinding on Elias’s already hard member. She could feel his hand on her ass, slipping her lace panties to the side. She’d bought them specifically for tonight. No set, because she wasn’t wearing a bra (only boob tape, as per Grace and her tailor). She’d planned on surprising Elias after the gala but he apparently had other plans. She felt his fingers play with her folds, letting out a mewl at his teasing to get her wet, eventually slipping two fingers inside of her, causing her to cry out. “That feels good, Elias,” she whispered, looking back at him.

“You like that?” he asked, to which she nodded her head. “You think looking that sexy in this dress wasn’t gonna make me do this?”

She smiled slightly. “I knew it would. Just thought you’d be able to wait,” she smiled devilishly.

“Nuh uh,” Elias shook his head, curling his fingers and making her visibly shiver. “No waiting. Can’t wait.”

“Then fuck me already.”

Elias entered her with such force that they crashed together against the glass. Svea let out a loud moan as he filled her up, feeling his hot breath right behind her ear as her own hot breath fogged up the glass in front of her mouth. She absolutely loved the feeling of him filling her up – always had, always would – but this was different. This was hot and fast and raw and rough, and she liked it, God did she like it. “Fill me up, Elias,” she breathed out. “Fill me up and fuck me.”

He crashed into her hips again, and she sent out another shout. His body pressed up against hers gave her little room to move but she liked it. Another crash. Another shout. Another crash. Another shout. On and on and on, the more shouts and moans escaped her body without her having any control over them. On and on and on, she got louder with each passing one. He could see her knuckles turning white from trying to grip the glass unsuccessfully. “You like being fucked like this?” he mumbled into her ear.

“Yeeesssssssss,” she nodded.

“How much?”

“So much,” she breathed out. “I love it when you fuck me hard, Elias. I love it. It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.”

It wasn’t meant to last long – rendezvouses like this never did – and so with a bite of the neck and an arch of the back and a slip of Elias’s hand around to her core, rubbing and teasing, Svea came undone, coming loudly and shaking as she tried to keep her balance. She could feel his breaths shorten, and soon after, he came inside of her, hot and wet and causing her own orgasm to last longer. As they tried to catch their breaths, Svea could feel Elias’s lips on the open skin of her back, placing soft, tender, loving kisses along it as they came down from their highs.

Elias’s lips moved from her spine to her shoulder blades and along her neck. “I love you,” he whispered softly, placing a quick kiss on her jawline.

The fact that he was still inside her made it that much more tender to her. With her skirt still bunched up and the heat still pulsating in her core – evidence of what they’d just done – it was a nice bring-me-down, a return to reality for Svea who had just been seeing stars thanks to her boyfriend. “I love you too.”

When he softened and he finally slipped out of her, she whimpered as she always did at the loss, though she knew that more would be waiting for her later. She adjusted her underwear upon hearing Elias’s belt clink again. After rearranging themselves, they looked at each other to see the other perfectly well-kept, as if Elias didn’t just fuck her against the window. Elias had a smile on his face – a proud one, not one filled with lust like minutes before. “We should get down to the car,” he said, though neither of them bothered to move. “You do look beautiful,” he added.

“We clean up well,” Svea smiled back. She stepped forward to help him arrange his tie and collar.

“I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress,” Elias said, looking down at her.

Svea looked up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, clasping her hand in his. “Yeah.”

***

“Svea, you look fantastic!” Jacob Markstrom smiled as he bent down to hug her. Almost the entire team and their significant others had sad variations of the same thing to her as they saw her, so she knew she had picked the right dress. She and Elias were one of the last couples to arrive, but it seemed like things were running slightly behind schedule anyway because of people trying to find their seats in the giant room. It saved them, really.

“Thanks Jacob,” Svea smiled. “You look quite dapper yourself. A change from the scruffy bear you turn into when we’re back in Sweden.”

He let out a hearty laugh before moving on to greet Elias. Svea looked around the room to see it already almost full of people mingling. The stage was lit up in blue and green lights, and the DJ was playing music in the background of everything else that was happening. There were already food stations open in the middle of the room. Svea wondered if the boys could eat before they had to go their designated stations – she knew Elias and Brock were going to be set up in the photobooth part just like last year. That meant she and Grace could gossip and get a good talk in before dinner, where they would inevitably be separated at different tables.

About five minutes after Svea and Elias arrived, Brock and Grace did too. They made their rounds with the team. When Grace approached Svea, she gave her a good up-down. “You look phenomenal,” she said before going in to hug her. “Was Petey able to keep his hands off you?” she whispered in her ear.

Svea giggled. “No.”

Grace nodded knowingly as she pulled away from the hug. “Brock wasn’t either.”

Soon, the boys were called to their “stations” and Grace and Svea found their tables before going to the bar. A lot of people were approaching Grace because they recognized her from her father, and they asked questions about her and her initiatives and her uncles as Svea stood awkwardly with her, barely acknowledged or subtly acknowledged with just a nod of the head. Grace knew how to work a room, so it was fine, and she tried to include Svea into the conversations as much as possible, but people weren’t interested in her as much as they were interested in Grace. It was fine. Grace came from a prominent family of billionaires who were famous in Vancouver for their philanthropy. Svea was just…Svea. To be honest, she somewhat liked it. She could never be in the “limelight”, so to speak, as Grace was. That’s why if she went into politics, she’d be an advisor. There was no way she’d run for public office, even though she could debate better than the best politicians.

At one point, Svea and Grace unfortunately got stuck with quite the…character. Young, brash, and somehow invited to a gala that benefitted children, he was making jokes left, right, and centre. Most of them inappropriate. Both girls wished he noticed their awkward laughs and buzzed off, but such was not the case. He just had to chat up the daughter of Hamish Gillespie.

“You girls having a good time?” Brock’s voice was heard suddenly as he crept up behind them, putting his hand on the small of Grace’s back. Elias wasn’t far behind, smiling slightly.

“Whooooa ho ho! Brock Boeser!” the man exclaimed, doing one of those slap-shaking of hands boys always did with each other – if they were friends. Brock had no idea who this man was. “What’s up, Boes? Just talking to your girl here about where the Gillespie’s are donating money next.”

“Hmm, really?” Brock said, eyeing Grace and seeing the look she was giving him. “You’re talking to Grace about it?”

“Yeah, your girl.”

Elias watched as Grace rolled her eyes. “I was just about to say it’ll probably be another arts centre somewhere,” she said curtly.

“And what about you?” he nodded his head towards Svea. “Raya, was it?”

“Svea,” she deadpanned.

“Svea’s looking to do public policy and work in politics,” Elias interjected, saying the information proudly.

The man laughed out loud. Like, actually laughed out loud upon hearing the news. “You gonna be a political husband, Petey? The Good Husband? Like that TV show?” he joked.

“I don’t get it,” Svea interrupted before Elias could respond. She knew what she had to do: she had to use the technique of playing dumb and not understanding the “joke” in order to have someone awkwardly explain why they thought their racist/sexist/misogynist/ableist “joke” was funny, thus shining a light on their horrible character. She could bask in the awkwardness of them stumbling over their own words and seeing how truly ridiculous and stupid they really were. “Can you explain that to me?”

She watched as the man’s face fell slightly. “Oh, you know,” he tried to play it off. “It’s just a joke.”

“What’s the joke?”

Now his face really dropped, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, which just made him look completely like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “It’s just…you know…”

“I don’t know.”

The man shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Petey doesn’t need his girl working in politics,” he said. “What are you even gonna do in politics anyway? How’s Petey gonna feel about that? Having his girl running around with a bunch of politicians?”

“I’m not exactly sure where you’re going with this,” Svea said. She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “What exactly are you trying to achieve? Please explain to me how having a successful wife is so threatening to a man’s ego?”

“Does he need the trouble?” he continued. “You can’t be out there…you…I mean, shouldn’t you just do what all the other wives and girlfriends do? Be with the kids and tend to the house like a good wife? Petey is the important one here.”

Svea was so shocked her jaw didn’t drop. She closed her jaw, curtly, and closed her mouth, curtly, out of fear of saying something she might regret. It was Brock who had to intervene. “I think it’s best you leave now,” he said as calmly as possible.

“I—It’s not—”

“Leave,” Grace stressed.

The man scoffed and walked off. Svea could feel Elias grab her hand and squeeze it. He had an angry look on his face, understandably, as he watched the guy walk off, back to his table and back to his group. Elias would make sure to walk by the table to see the company they came from so he could make a complaint. “What a fucking asshole,” he mumbled.

“What a crock of shit,” Grace piped up even louder than Elias. She looked up at Brock. “Can we kick him out? I’m serious. Can we go speak to someone so he’s thrown out? Let’s go.”

“It’s fine,” Svea said.

“But Svea—”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” she stressed. “I’m going to be a woman in politics. This won’t be the last time somebody is going to make a comment like that.” Grace was still visibly mad. So was Brock. But they listened to Svea’s wish and didn’t pursue it any further. “Let’s go sit.”

***

Despite the man’s horrible comments, Svea forgot about them for the duration of the gala and had an amazing time. There were some hilariously funny moments that the organization put the players through, and Svea was laughing almost the entire night. She had some great talks afterwards, as well, with Jacob and Troy and Bo and Holly, and when the night ended, she was tired but happy as she and Elias made their way back home. Grace suggested they go for late-night pizza but Svea was too tired. They promised Grace brunch the next morning instead, which was readily agreed upon.

“I appreciate that you don’t expect that life from me,” Svea whispered as she stood in their bedroom in front of their mirror, Elias behind her unzipping her dress. She’d already been to the bathroom to wash off her makeup.

He knew exactly what she was talking about. He honestly wondered when she was going to bring it up. They’d been through this discussion months earlier when Francesca made her comments. He couldn’t believe they had to put up with them again. “I know you do,” he said from behind her.

“I just…I haven’t gone to university and pursued a life and career in public policy or law just to be called your girlfriend and become…become a…a trophy wife! A wag!” her anger was coming through now. “And I know I shouldn’t be angry and—and I’m not, I swear, because I know how ridiculous he was, but I…still.”

“I get it. It’s okay,” Elias said as he finished unzipping her dress. “You know I’d never want to dull your shine, Svea. I never want you to settle for anything you don’t want because I know you don’t want me to do that either.”

“You don’t…” she stopped herself, thinking if she should even ask the question, since he posed the same one to her when they were in Sweden after the entire Soren debacle. “You don’t think I’m holding you back, right?”

“How would you?” he asked, his tone showing he thought it was the most absurd idea on the planet.

“From like, doing stuff with your friends. Going out, having fun…I don’t know Elias. Normal guy stuff. Normal hockey guy stuff,” she clarified.

He’d been shaking his head since her first word. “No,” he said definitively. He dress fell to the floor, leaving Svea standing in front of the mirror in just her lace underwear. “I see what some of my friends and teammates have gotten up to on the road and I don’t want that for me. The only things I want in my life are my family, hockey, and you. There’s nothing else I need.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” he nodded. “You keep me grounded, Svea. I don’t need to do that shit when I have you at home.”

“I just don’t want you to miss out,” she said.

“I’m not missing out. Trust me. I still have my fun but I have it on my terms.”

Svea internalized his words and nodded her head. She turned around and began helping him undress, undoing his tie and the buttons on his dress shirt before moving to his belt, the clinking of the metal reminding her of their previous activities just hours ago. “I know that you love me. And you know that I love you. I just want to make sure you’re living the life you want because I know you want me to live the life that I want. Which is why I’m comfortable with telling you the next thing I’m going to say.”

“Which is?”

“If we get married, we’re not having kids anytime soon. I’m not even entertaining the idea,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Like, it’s not on the table. It’s not an option. I’m going to school and I’m working. And when I’m ready, we’re having kids.”

Again, Elias was nodding from the beginning of her first words. “I’m fine with that. I—yes, I’m fine with that.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he kept nodding as she pushed his dress shirt back with her hands, letting it fall to the floor as well. “There’s no way I can even think about taking care of a kid right now anyway, so there’s no way I’m gonna do that to you. I wouldn’t put that on you while I go live my dreams. You have to live your dreams too.” He bent down slightly to give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

That night, as Svea was on top of him, under him, on her hands and knees for him, spooning him, and everything in between; as every orgasm coursed through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes like a tidal wave, leaving her a shaking, moaning, mewling, whimpering mess, she was shown time and time again how much Elias loved her, how much he adored her, how much he would do anything for her; and she was shown, more than anything, that they were in this together.

>< >< >< >< ><

Dear Miss Nilsson,

Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you acceptance into the Peter A. Allard School of Law…

***

Dear Miss Nilsson,

Upon review of your application, we are pleased to offer you acceptance to the University of British Columbia’s Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs…

>< >< >< >< ><

“Stella! Stella! Speak!”

“Brrrrrrrraaaaark!”

“Gooood girl, Stella!” Svea gave her a treat. “Okay, now twirl!” she did the hand motion, and Stella spun around and sat down when she was finished. “What a good girl you are, Stella!”

“RrrrrBARK!”

Svea watched as Elias came up behind Stella and picked her up in one swift movement, swooping her up in his arms as he brought her up to his face. He snuggled his face into hers, her wet nose tickling his skin before she started licking his face. Svea laughed at the sight, and soon Elias was laughing too because Stella wouldn’t stop. “You’re just like mommy, Stella.”

“HEY!” Svea opposed, pinching him on his side and causing him to wince. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s true though.”

“So what if it is,” she mumbled as she watched their puppy continue to lick his face. “We should put her harness on her now if we’re going to take her to the park.”

“But before that,” Elias said, placing Stella back down on the floor before walking over to their fridge. He bent down to open the freezer and took out a bottle of champagne. Stella waddled over to him, trying to see what else was in the freezer. “What’s that?” Svea asked as he set the bottle down on the counter. It was an expensive bottle too – he’d really gone all out.

“You didn’t think I’d just give you that necklace to celebrate you getting into your programs?” he asked with a smirk on his face. He took out two champagne flutes from a cabinet and set them down on the counter.

Svea touched the necklace sitting pretty around her neck – the Cartier Love necklace in yellow gold with diamonds, of course to match her bracelet that she hadn’t taken off since. “Elias…”

“And I know you still have to think about which one you’re going to choose,” he said as he took the foil off the top and began to uncork the bottle, “but we’re still going to celebrate. Because you’re my Svea, and I love you more than anything.”

Svea bent down to pick up Stella and cradle her in her arms as Elias poured the champagne into the flutes. “I did choose,” she said softly. “I came to the decision mentally, like, half an hour ago and I was going to tell you at the park.”

“Oh yeah? And?” he asked as he finished pouring.

She took a deep breath. “The Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs.”

Elias smiled from ear to ear, handing her one of the flutes to hold. He stepped towards her and wrapped an arm around her, cradling her and Stella against him. “To you, my pretty girl,” he said softly as he looked down at her. “My moon, my stars, my Svea.”

>< >< >< >< ><

@ThomasDrance: BREAKING: Elias Pettersson has signed a contract with the Vancouver Canucks. More to come shortly.

@ThomasDrance: Sounds like a long-term deal. Elias is staying. Canucks fans rejoice.

@ThomasDrance: Somebody on the media beat just screamed. Another danced. One is just smiling as he’s staring down at his phone. Just in case you were wondering how happy the people of Vancouver are.

>< >< >< >< ><

“You guys want to meet up on…let’s say Saturday?” Svea asked Grace on the phone. She was lying on the couch with Elias giving her a foot massage and Stella sleeping on her chest.

“Yeah, of course. Pippa down!” she asserted. “What were you thinking?”

“We kind of want to go super-fancy,” Svea said, knowing that Grace would be able to help with that. “Like, really nice outfits. And I want Brock in a suit.”

“I’ll make reservations at Hawksworth,” Grace said like it was the easiest thing in the world – because it was for her. Everyone else would need to wait weeks. But not her. “And I’ll stuff Brock too-many-cookies-gut into a suit, no problem.”

“Make the reservation for 1:30 in the afternoon. But can we meet at 11?”

“Of course…” Grace said. “Why so early?”

“For Stella. We need to show you something with Stella.”

>< >< >< >< ><

Elias waved Brock down outside once he noticed his car. Elias was dressed in his best suit, one he’d know he’d never wear again from now on. He watched as Brock parallel parked the car on the street. Grace got out first, wearing a very pretty and fitted yellow dress with a boatneck and cap sleeves, looking especially elegant. Her hair was sleeked back into a low bun, and she had a pair of high-heeled sandals on to complete her look. Brock followed behind her, wearing one of his particularly well-tailored and fitted black suits, shiny new shoes and a skinny tie.

“Why’d you make me dress up?” Brock asked as he approached Elias, adjusting his jacket so he could button it up.

“You know I like seeing you in a suit.”

Brock winked. “I do, but you see me in one almost every other day. Why my best suit?”

Elias didn’t have the opportunity to answer, because Svea came up from behind him to hug Grace and Brock. They both bent down and kissed Stella as well. “Do you guys mind if I leave my jacket in your car? It’s getting a bit hot out,” she asked as she began unbuttoning her trench coat.

“Yeah yeah, of course,” Brock nodded, moving to open the backseat door for her.

When Svea handed the handle of the leash to Elias and took off her trench coat, she had everybody staring. She revealed the dress she was wearing: plunge V-neck, frilled outline, sequin-embellished waistband, flowy skirt.

White.

“Wait…” Brock held his hand up, not bothering to close the backseat door even though Svea was finished throwing her jacket in the back. Finished and waiting. He had a confused look on his face. But then it suddenly hit him. “Are you guys getting fuckin’ married?”

Svea smirked. When Grace saw, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Brock looked at Elias, who was now smiling and laughing at Grace’s reaction. “Are you fucking joking?” Elias shook his head. “You guys are getting fucking married?! Right now?!”

“Yup,” Elias finally nodded his head. “You and Grace are our witnesses, and you may or may not need to FaceTime in our parents and siblings.”

If it was possible, Grace screamed even louder before jumping up and down and lunging herself at Svea, who was ready to catch her and hug her. Brock and Elias watched as she kept changing “ohmygodohmygodOHMYGOOOOODDDDD” over and over again before she finally had the wherewithal to grab Svea’s left hand. When she did, she saw Svea’s ring: a beautiful yellow gold pave ring with a sapphire halo around the centre diamond – a giant round cut that took up most of Svea’s finger. She gasped at the sight of it. “Oh my God this is stunning,” she said, inspecting it before turning to Elias. “You picked this out?”

“Wow Grace. You don’t have faith in me?” Elias smiled.

She turned to Svea. “Our men have no taste. You have to tell me who picked it out.”

“HEY!” Brock protested. “I have taste!”

“We went to the jewelry store together. I chose the diamond and he said to get it bigger—”

“—Good—”

“—and then I wanted the pave band. But it was Elias who actually suggested the sapphires in the halo.”

Grace nodded. “The sapphires make it. They truly do.” She gave Elias another look. “Good job Elias.”

“Thanks Grace.”

“So are we gonna do this thing or what?!” Brock asked, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get married!”

***

The picture was simple, and taken by Brock. In it, Elias and Svea stood on the steps outside Vancouver City Hall. They stood side by side, and were holding hands. Svea held her bouquet by her hip, and in Elias held the leash for Stella, who was sitting in front of them, smiling at the camera. They were smiling, too. Formal smiles, mostly, but in Elias’s unabashedness, and in Svea’s absolute pure joy.

Elias posted a simple caption.

💒

***

@of_pettersson: The Church of Pettersson could have married you!!! Alas, we bestow best wishes to you and your bride!

@peteyfan40: pettersson married? What a way to ring in his contract!

@canucklehead406: gotta love that the first thing elias does after signing a contract is get married. Remember that ice and dice when he said he’d never had a girlfriend? What a change

@vancitybaby: ok, so I’m not the only one who think elias looks super cute with his new wife and puppy, right? Like I basically sobbed.

@ThomasDrance: Signs a contract, gets married. Bride is childhood best friend Svea Nilsson. Congrats to Elias & Svea. Bright things are in their future.

@BBoeser16: So happy for my two best friends and to have been there with them <3

@gracegillespie: I love love. Congratulations to Elias, Svea, and Stella.

>< >< >< >< ><

Elias and Svea cuddled on the couch. Svea was in Elias’s lap and Stella was sleeping in hers. Elias placed a kiss on Svea’s temple. “I love you so much, Svea.”

She smiled. “I love you too Elias.”

For at least a moment, everything was perfect.

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bexterbex · 4 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 3

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter 3: Of Speculation and Anticipation

Summary: “In fifteen minutes we will hear from the Prime Minister with more information about the First Order and what we as citizens are expected to do. Please stay tuned to CBC News for updates.” And “Tonight at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time First Order Supreme Leader Ren will address the public for the second time.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You arrive home and park in your building’s ramp. You see Carter pulling into the guest parking zone. You wait for them.

“Want to order something for lunch,” asked Carter.

“Sure, does curry sound alright,” you asked. Carter nodded and you both headed into your building.

You both took the stairs up to your floor and you unlocked your door. Both of you took off your shoes and you pulled out your phone to do your usual curry order

“So this thing with the First Order. What do you think? How many people are out there,” Asked Carter.

“I don’t know what to think. This all feels like some weird Sci-Fi movie. Why is this the first time we have been contacted by some sort of ‘alien’ race? This is just weird,” you responded. You pulled out your laptop and set it up on your small kitchen table. You set up a live feed to the CBC News broadcast and plugged your laptop in.

“What if they are really peaceful and don’t mean any harm. You heard that man, the Supreme Leader I think that’s what he’s called, as long as we follow orders we should be fine,” responded Carter.

Suddenly you both get a text in your group chat from Hayden asking, ‘What’s up with this alien invasion thing 👽? Spooky 👻’

“Should we invite him over,” asked Carter.

“Yeah, let’s see if I can add to the lunch order,” you responded while Carter texted Hayden back.

“Damn it, it won’t let me. Let me check if I have any salad or anything to go with it,” you told Carter.

“Why don’t I text Hayden that if he plans on coming over now he needs to bring something,” asked Carter.

You nodded with approval. Although Carter texted Hayden separately he is always the type to respond in the group chat. ‘Coolio, I’ll pick up some drinks and chips and hummus 😂’

“Why he does that I’ll never understand,” you stated. Carter nodded in agreement.

The live stream on your laptop flashed so you unmuted it.

Live from Ottawa

“In fifteen minutes we will hear from the Prime Minister with more information about the First Order and what we as citizens are expected to do. Please stay tuned to CBC News for updates,” said the blond anchorwoman. You turned down the volume on your laptop to a background noise level.

“Dang. Hopefully, he has more information as to who they are. I have been checking the government website all day and no one really has anything. Their Supreme Leader is a total mystery,” said Carter.

You both then went to minding your phones. You scrolled through twitter. Everyone was talking about #alieninvasiondc and #firstorder. No one had any real news, just speculation from what you could see. Ironically the #raidarea51 tag was trending again talking about how this is what the U.S. government was hiding.

There was a knock on your door. You went to open it. The delivery person was there with your food. You paid him and he went on his way. Almost immediately after you shut the door there was another knock. Hayden this time with the drinks and chips and hummus.

He walks in without taking off his shoes and said, “aliens man who would have thunk.”

“Take off your damn shoes I don’t know how time I have to tell you,” you scolded Hayden who made his way back to the door.

“Ok jeez it’s not like your apartment is huge. It won’t take long to clean it,” Hayden responded.

Carter just rolled their eyes at the two of you. Hayden was the more relaxed, and slobby of the three of you. You were more type A, where everything had a place and you like things just so. He was definitely the extrovert of the group, someone who could have a 3-hour long conversation with a bartender about their life. Meanwhile, you were more of an introvert. Carter was the perfect balance for you two. Ever the optimist but an ambivert none the less.

Hayden loved conspiracy theories. Always talking about a new one here or there. He was the least adult out of the three of you. You had your habits and the way you liked things. Being a minimalist you liked the things you liked the way you liked them. You needed to be efficient and precise in order to survive your home and work life.

“My apartment may be small, but if it bothers you why is it that we always end up here, hmm?” You responded sarcastically.

Hayden just shrugged and went about preparing himself a plate of curry, rice hummus and chips while grabbing a cider from the six-pack he brought.

“I don’t know if you heard but the Prime Minister will be speaking in a few minutes, hopefully with more information on this First Order stuff,” said Carter trying to distract you two from your usual petty disagreements.

Carter was the glue to your friendship. The rock to keep you three together. Despite Hayden’s extroversion, there were still some prejudices against the unmatched. He could easily find someone to go home with after a night at the bars but had a hard time making lasting friendships until he found Carter.

“Cool, love seeing my man Trudeau,” said Hayden.

Just now your laptop screen flashed with the news report. You turned up the volume.

Live from Ottawa

The Prime Minister started to speak, “as you all know yesterday there was a visit to Earth by a then-unknown group who we now know to be the First Order. Earlier this morning the U.S. President spoke to everyone on behalf of the United Nations. I myself and many others are in agreement that the First Order have come here in peace. I ask everyone in Canada to act peacefully and follow all instructions that you may receive from the government or the First Order.

You will be able to register at all public government offices like the housing department, the post office, the motor vehicle registration office, the social insurance number office, the immigration office and more. In the upper parts of provinces and in major cities there will be temporary registration stations. Please check the government website canada.ca to find any more places to register.

We ask that all citizens of Earth remain calm and proceed to be registered. Earlier the President said that citizens may be reassigned to duties within the First Order. This will only happen with your consent and only to positions, the First Order may need. You also may have the choice to temporarily be reassigned to help with registration.

The First Order will also be removing all standard currency and will be shifting all current wealth into the galaxy’s credit system or galactic credit. No citizen will lose any portion of their wealth and all physical currency will be able to be exchanged at any bank, credit union, or any government office and all digital currency or any currency currently kept at a bank or credit union will be converted automatically. This will happen 3 days after the trade deadline. By the end of the month, Earth will join the galactic trade economy and will be able to set up trade with any planet within the First Order rule.

Tonight at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time First Order Supreme Leader Ren will address the public for the second time. It is important that all citizens tune into the news and all employers are mandated to allow all employees the opportunity to watch or listen to Supreme Leader Ren’s speech. Thank you.”

All three of you sat stunned looking at the laptop. Carter was the first to speak.

“Is he human, Supreme Leader Ren I mean? You saw that helmet thing I wonder what's under there” asked Carter.

“I don’t know maybe he’s got like a tentacle face like Davey Jones did from that Pirates of the Caribbean movie. What do you think Y/N,” asked Hayden.

“You both say the videos of last night’s landing right? There was a ginger man with them, maybe they are human, but there is probably some sort of mix within their ranks. You’ve both seen Star Trek and other Sci-Fi movies. There is a possibility all of the First Order with helmets are some other species. Maybe they brought that ginger man to calm us all down so we don’t have an alien vs predator thing,” you said.

Both Carter and Hayden seemed to nod in agreement. For a little bit, you all went about eating your food.

“Hey, this might be one of my crazy theories but what if your guys’ matches are some weird alien species,” said Hayden. “Like think how cool that would be!”

“I will love whoever or whatever they are. The universe thought it was important enough to put their name on my wrist so that is all I care about,” said Carter continuing to eat.

You just simply looked down at the names on your wrist. You secretly hoped that Kylo/Ben wasn’t going to be disgusted at you being human.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #sw #sw sequels #first order #a soul to mend his own #sw first order imagine #kylo ren #why is tumblr like this

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violent-optimism · 5 years

Text

Just wanted to take a little moment to reflect about Canada Day...

Now I am, and always have been, a proud Canadian. I love where I live. It’s a beautiful country with, for the most part, very nice people. We have marriage equality, we have free healthcare, we have gun control, we have laws that protect the LGBTQ+ community, and if for whatever reason I needed to receive an abortion, I could do it without any systemic obstacles or barriers (I felt this one was important to include right now).

But in the last couple years or so, through my education I’ve learned about the horrible, disgusting and quite frankly, evil things that have been done (and in some cases are still being done) to the Indigenous peoples of this land. It’s awful, and in a lot of ways it does make me feel ashamed to live in Canada.

I do think that we are slowly starting to come around and accept/acknowledge what has happened. Trudeau might not have meant every word, but he’s at least made the point of officially apologizing for the pain this country has inflicted upon Indigenous peoples. Reconciliation is happening, but it should have started a long time ago.

I recognize that, as a Caucasian person, I have privilege. And I hope there comes a day where EVERY Canadian can share in that privilege. At the end of the day, I do really love my country and I hope we continue to make positive progress and be the best that we can be.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Canada Day.

#o canada #canada day

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purplesurveys · 5 years

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395

01. How often do you walk around barefoot? Every breathing moment I’m at home. You never wear shoes inside an Asian house. 02. When you eat take-out, do you just eat it out of the containers provided? Yes, unless it’s a family-style meal then we have to set up plates. But if it were a personal meal, I’d probably be too lazy to still move it and just eat it straight out of whatever container was provided for me. 03. How do you prefer to travel? Plane, train, driving? Plane. I like seeing things up in the air. I don’t ride trains. 04. Would you need to sleep with someone before considering marrying them? I dunno, I don’t think it matters to me whether I’ve done it with them or not. I’ve never been put in such a position so I wouldn’t know what to do. 05. How often do you make your bed? Everyday. My mom likes to keep things neat.

No 6?

07. Do you carry condoms? I don’t have to. 08. Would you date someone who has a hearing aid? Sure? I don’t see why that would be a problem. 09. If you were to be stuck on a deserted tropical island, how big would you like the island to be? As big as my university campus would probably do. It’s the right size for me. 10. How organized are the files on your computer? They’re organized right now since I fixed it recently, but I have a disgusting habit of saving things on my desktop until it gets filled with little icons. 11. Have you ever been to a strip club? Never been. 12. Have you ever brought home a stray animal? My sister adopted a cat from an NGO, idk if that counts. 13. Did you have a childhood hero? Were they real or fictional? Tbh, the Hi-5 cast (real) and Spartacus from Lazytown (fictional). 14. If you are put on hold and the music playing is a song you know, do you sing along? This hasn’t happened before but I’d imagine myself to hum along. 15. Are you physically strong? Depends. I can push and pull heavy things, but I can’t lift to save my life. I once collapsed while carrying a box of NECK PILLOWS. 16. Would you date someone with braces? Yes. I did. 17. Does scuba diving interest you? Only if it doesn’t pose any harm or threat to animals. 18. Would you ever ask your parents for relationship advice? No. My dad would likely be uninterested, and my mom is as traditional as the word gets. Definitely not the kind of advice I’d want to receive. 19. Do you think people look up to you? I guess some do. 20. How often do you have trouble sleeping at night? Not so often anymore because I always get back home already so wiped out. I only have trouble sleeping when I’m worrying over or inconvenienced by something. 21. Can you drive a manual transmission? Nope, never learned how. 22. Have you ever re-gifted a gift you didn’t care for? I wouldn’t. I always see gifts as efforts and people thinking of me. I have a hard time with the idea of giving that away. 23. Do you ever rehearse conversations before you have them? Sometimes. I usually do this when I order something. 24. You notice someone staring intently at you, what do you do? If it’s a creepy guy, I’d glare. Actually if it were anyone, I would glare back haha. 25. Do you blush easily? If I get mad, yep. 26. Do you get angry at yourself or at others more often? Me. 27. Can you name five current world leaders? Duterte, Trump, May, Trudeau, Jinping. 28. When taking a cab, do you talk to the driver? No. I will if they talked to me first, but I generally wouldn’t initiate. 29. Do you like word games like Scrabble or Boggle? Love them. 30. Would you consider dating a psychiatrist or psychologist? I did, but I ended up in journalism.

#survey #surveys

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hurricanehenry · 2 years

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Where is government accountability? CERB paid to gang members who buy crime guns with it, millions deposited in error through faulty pay systems, $600 million pandemic election? https://twitter.com/i/status/1473254525280702467 Husband of @NationalDefence Minister is director of company that received millions in Covid contracts while @AnitaAnandMP served in cabinet, records show. https://blacklocks.ca/anands-husband-is-director/… @EthicsCanada #cdnpoli And all these grifters waiting for the next cerb/,rent perks from Justy and standing in line for tests...cause they got sniffles and are gonna save the world...Justy & his now quiet advisors giving high fives...Gerry doing somersaults at our naivety as a country.. I borrowed a copy of the Trudeau Liberals dictionary. The word accountability is just not in there! Then I looked for ethics. Hmm Not there either. How about morals or honesty or integrity? Just don’t understand. Those words are just not there…. I guess we can all keep looking LOOK! the liberal thieves: https://google.ca/amp/s/www.cbc.ca/amp/1.3776667… >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> LOOK! another liberal thieves: Someone is enjoying the Liberal free for all, not me or anyone I know. Government accountability seems to have ended on October 19, 2015. Canada has been going downhill ever since. Government accountability seems to have ended on October 19, 2015. Canada has been going downhill ever since. UPDATE: The Rule of Law in Canada IS Dead. David Suzuki has STILL NOT BEEN ARRESTED? Almost all those screaming for lockdowns have covid-proof jobs. Maybe walk a mile in the shoes of those who don’t. THIS yet, still you foolish liberals will vote for him-disgusting An election that cost we the people, $650mil, to stroke one fools ego, and proved nothing. +/- 37% of people that bothered to vote voted for him and yet he claims a victory. 37% spread over the entire eligible # of voters is nowhere near 37%! https://www.instagram.com/p/CXwIeLOJOLG/?utm_medium=tumblr

#cdnpoli

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samtheflamingomain · 6 years

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busy bitch

So Premier Doug “Angus Grease Double Pounder With Cheese″ Ford, Doug “Brother of a Confessed Crackhead” Ford, has been premier for (checks watch) too long. Almost two weeks.

In two weeks here’s what I’ve accomplished: binged That 70′s Show, did some drawing. Worked.

Here’s what Captain Crunch Bar has done in two weeks: announced a salary and hiring freeze for Ontario civil servants (before even being sworn in officially), ended the VITAL "cap and trade" environmental program WE NEED FOR OUR PLANET TO LIVE as well as scrapping the Green Ontario Fund, pulled $100 million for public schools, eliminated the drug program that makes (most) drugs free for those under 25 (including me. I went from paying $0/m for 2 of my drugs to more than 100 for both. I went to the pharmacy A WEEK AGO and was told this), scratched the BARELY EVEN PROGRESSIVE sex-ed program, and defunded the Indigenous Rights Council (Sorry if that’s not the correct name for it, I couldn’t find it but I’d seen it earlier).

Busy guy, as you can see.

Busy being an ASSHOLE.

I didn’t much follow Canadian politics before, because we’d always had a (somewhat) sane person in charge. I hate Trudeau and know all about his disgusting pipeline bullshit, but until now, despite Wynne being pretty bad, she never fucked us over as bad as Ford will, and so now I’m deeply interested in Canadian politics.

I had a conversation with someone at the bar the other night who I know voted Ford. He said, “I had to pay $30 out of pocket for my son’s medicine today! It was free a month ago!” And I pointed out why. He shut up for a while.

As bad as he is, at least he’s not Prime Minister and at least he’s, quite frankly, not as bad as Trump. He has been racist and homophobic. He is going to ruin things for a while. But he doesn’t have the capability to start WWIII.

And, to revisit my friend at the bar, many Ford supporters will suffer from his policies (unlike most of Trump’s base), and they might learn from it.

I’m personally affected by his policies. But at least I won’t get nuked from them.

Try to Stay Greater.

#doug ford #conservatives #ontario #canada #election ontario #liberal #progressive #sam

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feminismforall · 4 years

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I am a Feminist!

It is true that one person can make a difference, or change the world. Dr. Richard has done that. She has made me, and I suspect many other students become feminists. She has given us knowledge and empowered us to change our own circumstances, the lives of those we come in contact with, and perhaps people around the world. As I said in response to Crenshaw’s “Mapping the Margins”, knowledge and education are power. We must be cautious and responsible with that power, but use it to its fullest. Now that I have the knowledge of feminism and the knowledge of more than my own single story, I plan to live like a compass as Shafak suggested. One foot rooted in what I know and one foot constantly searching. The knowledge I have gained in this class has led to me considering myself a feminist and to the knowledge that anyone, including men, can be a feminist.

I ignorantly thought feminism was only women screaming for equal pay and the right to vote!! My tumblr speaks to everyone, especially men, becoming feminists. My first entry is a quote by Mark Lawrence saying essentially how I feel after this class. Like a changed man on a new path, with many days between who I was to who I have become. A little changed for the better, perhaps matured, with much more to do. As several other entries and quotes reveal I now know more than a single story of feminism. I know that, “when women are empowered they immeasurably improve the lives of everyone around them,” as stated by Prince Harry. Perhaps he was thinking of his wife or Margret Thatcher, both who have had a great impact on the world through their actions. Also that we shouldn’t be afraid to use the word feminist or describe ourselves as feminist as both the Dalai Lama and Justin Trudeau tell us. I believe that all humans should have the same rights and opportunities. That we can not be ignorant to the plight of others. We must educate ourselves to what is happening in the world. Their story is my story and our story, because if we don’t care, no one will care and nothing will get better. I have learned that feminism isn’t about making women stronger. Like my mom, women are already strong and can overcome or achieve incredible things. Feminism is about, “ changing the way the world perceives that strength.” It can not be seen as a threat, but for all the positives it can bring to families, communities and the world. Although I am not a woman, I identify with Audre Lorde when she says, “ I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own”. After seeing all of the educated and empowered women on the TED talks, and reading all of the powerful readings of the women we read, I believe women can bring new perspectives and ideas that could revolutionize thinking in the world and bring real change and prosperity to the world. For example, Nijdeka Harry, President and CEO of the Youth for Technology Foundation tells us, “If Nigerian women had the same opportunities as men, they could drive GDP up by 13.9 billion”. Likewise, Ertharin Cousin from the World Food Program states that, “Ending gender inequity is not just the right thing to do, it is the smart thing to do. Because, FAO tells us giving women farmers access to the resources they need would lift up to 150 million people out of hunger.”

Being exposed to women of different cultures throughout this class has completely changed my thinking in so many ways. Okprarant’s novel, as well as the words of several others we have studied, has opened my eyes to third world cultures for instance. The words “third world” had a single story connotation for me that no one from any of those countries had any useful education or contribution for the world. I was so ignorant. As Adichie said, “the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, it is that they are incomplete.” I believe these women could have a more profound effect on the world than perhaps any other women. The perseverance, commitment, and strength of these women has no match. Ijeoma’s life journey is an excellent example of that. She lost everything, was sold into slavery, she was admonished by her own mother and husband, she felt ashamed and discriminated against, yet against all odds, she persevered and raised a daughter in her image. She had two men in her life that did not understand her. A father who took the coward's way out because he feared the war would put him in a position to be less than he thought he was or should be as a man in his culture. A husband who did not support who she truly was and demanded she live the way he thought the traditional wife should. He even denied love and things to his daughter that he reserved for the son he felt his wife owed him. I now see these traditional roles of men and their anti-feminist ways of thinking in a totally different light and they disgust me. This inspires me to be a feminist, to become educated, to work for all rights of all humans. Maya Angilou tells us that, “History can not be un-lived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” We can not un-live the oppression that people have faced in the past, however, we can educate ourselves and grow from our mistakes and come out better for it. Kimberle Crenshaw had a profound affect on me with her theory of Intersectionality. That those who fall under several discriminated stereotypes are the most vulnerable and most likely to fall through the cracks. My mom has talked to me about this from her experience teaching. Those students who come to school never having been read to, or from uneducated parents, or from insecure homes, or with learning differences are the most vulnerable students and most likely not to succeed. If those students, or those with the most intersections, do not receive the most help, they will undoubtedly fall through the cracks. I love when she speaks of women from, “a range of backgrounds” and that our visions of peace must always include their differences or our peace will always only be partial. I believe the same holds true for the success of a community or nation. If we do not include all of the people from all of their differences, then an accomplishment will only be partially achieved until everyone is included.

The most profound thing I have learned is that anyone can be a feminist and that everyone should be a feminist. Also that being a feminist is, “anyone who recognizes the equality and full humanity of women and men” as one of the best known American feminist, Gloria Steinem said. I will forever be touched and impacted by the amazing women I have studied along this journey, Adichie, Okparanta, Shafak, Kincaid, Ramdas, Allande, Crenshaw, and Richard. Mogahed for teaching me that for most part women wearing their Hijab is a choice of pride and that muslims are as representative of terrorist as KKK are of Christianity. To Allende for giving me the gift of Rose Mapendos story and teaching me that to empower a woman is to empower her children, her village, her community, her nation, and thus the world. Shafak for teaching me the power of the circle both positive and negative. That if we want to choke something out, just surround it and cut off its needed supplies. However, if we want a positive effect, we must reach outside of those circles we belong to. If we have no connection with the worlds beyond the one we live in, we run the risk of our imagination and our compassion drying up. To Msimang for giving me the courage to try and push past my fears and to look closely at the present I am constructing so that it looks like the future I am dreaming of. This makes me now know and understand the man that I have to be, and want to be. I want to be well educated so that I can be a better man, husband and father. I want to respect those around me for their particular story. I want to see things outside of my circle and find ways to make them better. I want my words to have meaning and I want the power that my words possess to do good things in the world. I want to be a man that women and the people close to me respect. To respect not because I am a man or in power, but because I treat them respectfully and have chosen to use the power I posses for their good and for the good of the world.

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intellectual-philosopher-blog · 6 years

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The "Idiocracy" of our Political System

The state of our collective idiocy astounds me on a daily basis. It doesn't matter if you are left or right in your views, both sides still fall into the duped category. This is astoundingly prevalent in North America currently. I cannot think of two more opposing political views than the ones held by Justin Trudeau and Donald Trump. However, both share resounding similarities when you get down to the roots of who they are and what they represent.

Both of these characters have carefully crafted images to appeal to their bases....Trumps may actually be a little less careful....maybe we should say, managed. Let's start with Justin Trudeau, the flowing locks of the compassionate feminist doing yoga while taking a selfie. An image that he works hard to portray to appeal to the softer side of the Canadian collective consciousness. People eat that dog shit up like its handed to them on a silver platter. The comments of "He's so good looking" are enough to make me want to throw up.....why would you hire the leader of your nation based on garbage like that. This guy was literally a ski instructor and a drama teacher.....not exactly the resume you would think you need to run a nation. Buuuut, Jr. has some very wealthy and powerful friends who required his image to push forth their agenda.

And Trump...the orange bombastic megalomaniac. The flowing locks of carefully crafted madness upon his head, with the suit and tie of a successful business man. Doesn't matter how he gains his success that is his image, the larger than life character literally building his empire to see his name plated in gold on his various buildings. This appealed to the collective consciousness of the U.S. that this businessman could put more money in their pockets at the end of day than some extension of the Obama legacy liberal agenda. It did not matter that Trump is a racist, womanizing "pussy" grabber, people believed he'd be better than the money grabbing liberals. This guy literally had ZERO experience in the political arena....not exactly the resume you would think you need to run a nation. Buuuut, Jr. has some very wealthy and powerful friends who required his image to push forth their agenda.

These are our choices... Really??? This is the best and the brightest that these two nations have to offer....Really? This is the point that idiocy comes into play in our political systems. For the most part people are voting based on an image, not the substance of the candidate. If it was based on substance both of these leaders would have more credentials on their resume. These 2 characters are the puppets for their political donors. It takes MONEY to get elected, not substance. That money equals favors and obligations for the candidate who gets elected to push forth the donors agendas...not any of the lies that the candidates are telling you.

Trudeau and Trump at the core of who they are are actually quite similar. They are both narcissistic wealthy trust fund kids who are there for gain for themselves and their friends. I don't believe for a second that these two have any real cares about the "middle class". Both are very media savvy and know how to work the human brain into complacency. This is about power and corruption for these two, just delivered on different plates. Trudeau is old guard of Central Canada, Trump is old guard of corporate America. If you actually look at the policies moving forward (not the spin version of the policies) its all about putting money in their friends pockets.

Trudeau gives away money like its candy to buy power and more friends, all in the name of "helping the middle class. Money for Bombardier is an easy gift in vote rich Quebec. Changing tax policy to benefit his own finance minister is exceptionally corrupt. Bill Morneau's family sells private investment tools for retirement...so lets take away good tax policy for small business owners so Bill Morneau's family can benefit, disgusting. What does this get us?? Higher tax bills and higher national debt.

Trump is planning on taking away a health care plan that will literally leave millions of people with no options if they get sick. All the while gutting the EPA which will mean more pollution for more people to get sick. He also plans on a massive tax cut will leave more money in his and his wealthiest friends bank accounts even though its bad policy and will add a trillion dollars to the nations balance sheet. Don't get wrong here, I am actually very pro low taxes...money in the hands of government is inefficient but that's for another post. He claims this is necessary for the "middle class" even though unemployment rates are at their lowest point in over a decade. His policies are racist class warfare which will just leave people with bigger bills and less money.

So what does the collective "we" do while this shit show goes on? Nothing. There are rallies and protests but for the most part most people don't have the time or the energy to get anywhere. The real policies are delivered by the well funded lobbyists to get their agendas passed by making promises of future donations. We just get tired and go back to work so we can buy more crap.

So where does the term "Idiocracy" come from? It is a 2006 movie starring Luke Wilson and Maya Rudolph. Now it seems as though it was a prophecy for our state of politics in 2017. I would push everyone to watch it....its the movie version of our current reality. How do we find our way out of this mess? Who knows, maybe we are designed to be the sheep that the political establishments believe's we are. Maybe a spiritual enlightenment of the collective consciousness will guide the way. Until then, we can watch this madness unfold and hope that Trump doesn't start a nuclear war in the mean time.

#donald trump #justin trudeau #parallel government #politics #idiocracy #idiocy #canadian government #usa #bad policy

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balarouge · 4 years

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Transport Canada investigates 'racist' song shared in no-fly list office - 10 years after the fact | CBC News

It took Transportation Canada a many years to release an examination in to an insurance claim that a tune parody along with "biased" as well as "intense" lyrics about turban-wearing visitors was shared through e-mail within the team that manages Canada's no-fly list.

According to a March rundown note launched to CBC Information under accessibility to details regulation, a Transportation Canada representative in 2014 looked at whether the email coming from 2008 weakened the stability of Transport Canada's participation in the no-fly list program, which is suggested to cease determined terrorist threats from boarding flights.The government states it will certainly not openly discharge the outcomes of the inspection, naming what it phoned "privacy reasons."

On the other hand, the girl that first brought the incident to Move Canada's attention a many years earlier told CBC Information she viewed her 17-year profession as a government public servant break down as the coworker who shared the track was actually ensured.

"I am actually completely disgusted," Renée Soeterik told CBC Updates. "The e-mail contained an incredibly prejudiced, vitriolic as well as hate-filled ... abusive depiction.

"The individual who sent this e-mail and the people who covered it up, possess accountabilities handling with the general public straight. As well as handling stakeholders in a flight terminal setting and also in a security atmosphere."

Soeterik mentioned she complained regarding the e-mail to elderly management for many years -- however Transportation Canada just launched an examination after Amnesty International Canada ended up being considering the situation in 2014.

"It is actually impressive and also deeply disquieting to me, to think that no person would certainly have taken activity back then," said Amnesty's secretary standard Alex Neve. "This should have taken place one decade ago. It needs to have not taken a years."

Transportation Canada mentioned it's committed to marketing a highly ethical public service where prejudiced behaviour is certainly not tolerated.

' I will definitely snatch a baseball bat, and also are going to be that 'CBC Information has seen a duplicate of the e-mail in inquiry, which specifies that it was sent out by Mark Haynes on Sept. 3, 2008. According to Soeterik and also a LinkedIn profile under the name Spot Haynes, he was actually a superintendent at Transportation Canada's flying safety office in Toronto.

CBC arrived at Spot Haynes by e-mail. In his reply, he pertains to "'the claimed e-mail' coming from 2008, which has actually previously been reported to Deliver Canada by others." He declined CBC's redoed requests for a meeting and also carried out not confirm or reject authoring the e-mail.

Among Haynes' duties at Transport Canada would certainly have been to be sure that airline companies as well as flight terminal authorizations abide by the no-fly listing.

The e-mail connected to a parody model of the ballad "Strangers in the Night," labelled "Unfamiliar people on my Tour." Soeterik mentioned the e-mail was actually sent out to at the very least six colleagues, featuring 2 managers in the team.

"THIS IS GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!" the e-mail reads. "They ought to play this nonstop at all flight terminals."

"Strangers on my air travel, bandanas they're packin'," reviewed the verses, which were included in the e-mail. "Wondering if they might, intend a hijacking ... What is actually that in their hands? Appears like carton cutters ... 2 smelly individuals, as well as they're certainly not chatting straight, and also momentarily I will certainly get hold of a baseball bat, and that will be actually that ... As well as if they decide on a match and also make an effort to screw our team, I'll punch out their lights much like Joe Louis ... Deliver those bastards to the moon."

Soeterik said she confronted Haynes after getting the "horrible" email.

'Your lifestyle is created a lifestyle heck'

Soeterik stated that when she took the email to Haynes' manager, the feedback was actually unpleasant.

"That individual phoned out the fact that I was actually a union outlet steward and also inquired if I was actually mosting likely to 'whack a union bro in the back,'" she mentioned.

Soeterik pointed out coming from that time forward, her lifestyle at the workplace came to be harder. She claimed she devoted years taking the email to elderly monitoring's interest at staff conferences as well as retreats. In yield, Soeterik stated, she was classified an instigator, ostracized and also intimately bothered on duty.

"Your lifestyle is earned a living heck because context," she pointed out. "You will be actually labelled as the tough one. You will be actually tagged as the loudmouth. As well as eventually they'll create it so hazardous for you that you have to leave behind. That's exactly what took place to me ... It's demoralizing. It's depressing and ultimately I could not keep."

Social trouble, states legal professional Toronto legal representative John Phillips operated with Soeterik to help her leave of absence Transport Canada in 2017. Phillips also embodied previous Guantanamo Gulf detainee Omar Khadr, who was provided a $10.5 million settlement remittance by the Trudeau authorities in 2017.

Phillips stated the "quite racist diatribe" sent to Transport Canada staff members frightened him. Any kind of institution may have criminals in its own ranks, he stated, however the reality the email was actually delivered to numerous individuals-- consisting of managers -- without blowback proposes an issue with the department's culture.

Phillips mentioned he's troubled very most due to the simple fact that none of the various other email receivers spoke out.

"It will run out spot in a bar in some wilds state ... [and also [it was actually moved around among workers at Transport Canada who were actually charged along with some portion of Canadian safety and border command," he stated.

"The fact that this was actually sent out about in that situation really increases a problem regarding who is actually being targeted unfairly through that no-fly list. The sensitivity inside Transportation Canada needs to have seriously to be dealt with."

Transportation Canada told CBC Headlines its examiners, superintendents as well as regional managers do certainly not possess effect over who is actually added to or taken out coming from Canada's no-fly listing. The priest of public protection brings in that choice.

'It must have certainly not taken a many years'

Phillips obtained Amnesty International Canada entailed due to the fact that the company has actually long been involved regarding just how no-fly listings are actually supplied, as well as how they impact visitors in Canada and abroad. The authorities has actually been actually slammed for being as well secretive regarding the checklist. The system has observed kids erroneously flagged as aviation protection risks and also lots of have actually struggled to get their names cleared away from the listing.

Neve stated there is actually a real danger of bias and racial discrimination becoming inserted in the administration of no-fly checklists. He refers to as the emailed tune "brutal, primitive and also hate-filled bigotry."

"You can not assist however ponder when you find one thing similar to this that offers our team a little peek responsible for the scenes concerning a few of the attitudes of representatives in the division ... just how much of that indicate why it's been actually so slow-moving and also complicated to get some simple reforms in location?" pointed out Neve.

Neve claimed a Transport Canada main told him in January that the e-mail was inappropriate and also it would certainly be actually taking disciplinal procedures against the staff member that delivered it.

Haynes themself verified that certainly never taken place.

"I have actually certainly not gotten any type of disciplinary activity solutions ..." he filled in an email to CBC Headlines.

'Biased behaviors are certainly not allowed,' officials point out

Transport Canada additionally decreased a job interview. In a declaration, the division claimed it responded after investigating in 2015 when the e-mail was offered administration's focus.

"For personal privacy main reasons, the department may not talk about specific actions taken or the end results of any kind of examinations," wrote Transportation Canada.

"Feel confident, nevertheless, that biased practices are actually not allowed in Transportation Canada or any type of component of the federal civil service.

"The Federal government of Canada, consisting of Transport Canada, is actually dedicated to having a strongly ethical civil service that delivers companies to Canadians in a manner that is truthful, fair as well as impartial."

Haynes right now utilized with Global Matters Canada

Up until 2018, Haynes was the Transportation Canada supervisor at the Ottawa Airport terminal. He is actually currently working along with Global Affairs Canada as an elderly intermediary policeman in Zambia, that team confirms. He performs a secondment to improve females's participation in international police peacekeeping procedures, according to his LinkedIn account.

"It's past opinion," pointed out Soeterik about Haynes' new job. "The federal government prefer to relocate these individuals around like pieces on a chessboard than cope with systemic sexism as well as racial discrimination in the federal government.

"The people who covered that up, they've all since been actually advertised and I'm out here in the cold weather. I'm supporting on my own as well as creating my method. These people are actually still padding their pensions."

This content was originally published here.

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lorainelaneyblog · 5 years

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Letter to the Prime Minister

Dear Prime Minister Trudeau,

I am the woman who was tortured over a period of years, up to, and including, the present, with chemicals, noise machines, fly pasts, alterations of objects in my apartments, plants, bugs, damaged furniture, theft, sirening, stalking, a tasing, and a shooting, by the Vancouver, Toronto, and Ottawa police departments.

Further, I was nearly a casualty of a Carlington landlord, who assaulted me with paint fumes, in the apartment where I still live, and I believe the apartment to harbour the remaining toxicities.

Further, this landlord, of which I speak, assaulted me with gasoline, and plastics, so that I could not breathe well for some years.

Further, I am of the belief that many people infringed on my copyright for Bros Before Hos, The Equality Apocalypse.

Further, I have been a victim of the mental health system, including pinching of my fingernails, a sprained ankle, confiscation of foot wear, when I had open wounds on my feet, being refused soap, and being told to use the alcohol cleanser when I had open wounds on my hands. I was tied down, denied an adequate diet, denied food supplements, inadequately supplied with toilet paper and towels, and finally gasolined, again, by someone in the hospital.

Further, I was instructed to push down the garbage, since my chemical affection caused frequent trips to bathroom.

Further, I was exposed to toxic cleaning fluids, and further, I was assaulted with Haldol gaseous. I awoke to hear my roommate gasping for breath, as I was. Once it was naphtha, or something like it.

Further, once, several nurses stormed the bathroom, and kept telling me not to shower so often.

Further, upon admittance, a single vial of blood drawn caused a chemical overload, nearly causing my death.

Further, in the PSA, I was given a bed pan to go to the toilet in the room, on the floor. I was never asked if I wanted to use the bathroom.

Further, a security guard, female, watched me toileting, and conducting rituals, to stay alive, throughout the night.

Further, there was untreated rashing, from chemicals, all over my body. I was given hydrocortisone, which I thought would aggravate it. A glaxal based cream was helpful.

As for the police, the chemicals were aviation gas, the propellant for dry ice, and what I believe to be, white gas, mustard gas, and hydrogen gas. Also, I am, currently, this day, being gasolined in my apartment at #15 - 1481 Morisset Avenue, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.

Further, several substances have been used in this very apartment, over the past four years, in addition to substances by the landlord, by the police, I believe, since access to all my apartments would be difficult to achieve. They include joke shop chemicals, like cat urine, garbage, and exhaust, also gasoline, it’s lighter smelling than real gasoline, what I believe to be an industrial adhesive, which caused a slight aching sensation in my sinuses, as well as paint thinners, at least two kinds, one made me smell funny. On that topic, there have been times over the past years, when I could smell like a toxic waste dump, it’s chemical, and it comes out in the urine. Plastics, I have been blowing out of my nose for four years. In fact, you can’t blow your nose anymore, the air sticks, I don’t know how else to describe it.

Further to the plastics, the fear in shortness of breath is very real. I found, and this is very private, but some people know, rest assured, that I would find, as a sex worker, if someone was on top of me, I wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

Further to the plastics, again, they adhere to the inside of the nostrils, and, perhaps, sinuses, causing nose bleeds, though I was using drugs in my nose, a bit, at the time.

Further, even the joke shop chemicals cause headaches, though not sinus pain.

Further, noise machines have been installed in adjacent apartments at times, in a hostel, on a roof top, and in a man hole. These provide such a grinding sound, so as to compel one to move.

To elaborate on the noise machines, it would be hard to compare the noise with the surrounding construction noise, but it would be all night, compelling me, along with the inundation, with the propellant for dry ice, through the penthouse fan vent, to move to the small bedroom where I preferred to see clients, saving the queen bed for myself. The irritation I felt at paying $1950 per month and being unable to utilize the master bedroom and ensuite cannot be overstated.

Further, it was upon making this move that I heard what I suspected were officers on the adjacent roof, talking, and, presumably watching me through infrared cameras.

Further, there were fly pasts, including small planes, and helicopters, large planes, up to 747′s and larger, I believe, on a flight path, but loud, and deviating. One incident involved the chemical bombing of my open windows and a concurrent chemical bombing of the penthouse, at the time, bathroom fan vent.

This continued, in Vancouver, through fan vents, for several years, including shorter stints, with less intensity, in Ottawa and Toronto.

The hovering and fly pasts continued too. Sometimes there is a dump of aviation gas. Even this past summer.

Once, I wrote a nasty letter to Global News complaining about the traffic helicopters, and, that night, a helicopter hovered for over three hours.

Once, a friend of mine was helicoptered too, for three hours.

The disruption of the planes and helicopters cannot be overstated. They are loud, and annoying.

Further, there were intentional air craft simmerings, on the water front in Vancouver, once by Cobras and in Kanata, at a small airport, I believe, well within earshot of my building, causing ear pain, and extreme annoyance.

Further, the police entered my apartment a number of times, tilting pictures, putting in bugs, the live kind, once putting an old pair of 50 Cent tickets in a book I was reading, confusing me immensely, once putting a green glow worm in my kale.

Further, there were a number of thefts, and what I believe to be called exchanges, of my belongings, so many over the years that I still have memories of things that have been missing for years, including my only two pairs of glasses.

It is my belief, on that topic, that my townhouse, at the time, in Kanata, was entered while I was sleeping, as, at first, the arm of my newer glasses, and the screw, lay beside the glasses, themselves, in the morning. And then both pairs were missing the following morning.

And finally, the old, ugly, scratched, and discoloured pair of glasses turned up again.

Further to exchanges, almost every pair of Victoria’s Secret panties were exchanged, and it took me some time, again, sick as I was, to realize that they were not mine. This is disgusting. I could have got a disease from them.

Further to my mental health experience, blankets are shorted, leaving one cold, I was a little bit attacked by my roommate, and nothing was done. I was a victim of unlawful confinement by a young man I let kiss me, he would entrap me in the bathroom, and I would beg to leave. Further, the same young man would hump me unsuspectingly in front of the microwave every morning, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Nothing was done. He was sent home. I did several months more.

After my transfer to The Royal, it was decided to place me on Seroquel, I have no idea why. I was perfectly calm, as opposed to when they were going to take more blood, I was calling out, “You’re gonna kill me! You’re gonna kill me!” Further, the security guard bent my wrist, and I called out, “You’re gonna break my arm! You’re gonna break my arm!” I almost died on Seroquel. One night, my legs were kicking uncontrollably, and I was falling off the toilet, sick as I was.

Further, I have since been told, by my psychiatrist, that there was liver damage. Further, I am blamed for drinking beer.

Further, my apartment keys, which the arresting officer showed me were placed in my wallet, disappeared in emergency, and also, money was missing, about two hundred dollars, and also, change.

To further illuminate the sprained ankle, I was dumped into a transfer chair, while engaging in passive resistance. I limped around the hospital for two months. On that note, that was also when my thumb nails were pinched. I was obviously conscious, as my eyes were flickering.

I was sufficiently depleted by each hospital stay, I came to realize I would lose eight pounds with each stay. Further, the medications gave rise to many side affects, such as deep wrinkles, frown lines, sore feet, exhaustion, sexual dysfunction, and agitation.

Further, with respect to the police, my computer has been hacked for several years. I believe material has been stolen. The screen jiggles up and down almost always, and, most recently, side to side. The hacking also involved the theft of four hundred pages of original material, and, maybe, the installation of some porn on a roommates computer, which ended up on mine, as we were connected at the time, and she placed it there. It included a scene of beastiality, which I believe to be illegal. It has since been removed, parts of it, anyway.

The jiggling makes it impossible, at times, to use my computer for blogging, and email. I no longer write in Word, since I can’t afford it. I would prefer to, as some of my work is private, but I see no point, as I can’t hide anything, and I’m a drug user, so all my money goes to that.

On that note, I believe that my phone calls are tapped since, a few times, during a drug deal, a police vehicle happens to appear, though Carlington is a busy neighbourhood for such crimes, at least it was.

Further, in an apartment on West 11th was where the tasing took place. It was not painful, as I understand it to be, because it was through the wall, but it caused my body to tense into a curl, and vibrate, and I knew what it was.

Further, once, I believe there was an obstacle course set up for me, while I was driving. I would even guess that two police officers, a man and a woman, on bikes, sports bikes, not ten speeds, who drove quickly and haphazardly, in a diagonal, actually, across the middle of a residential street, were wearing dark contact lenses and grey tone clothing to appear evil.

Further, on another occasion, a driver pulled out right in front of me, while I was driving along 12th Avenue in Vancouver, unpredictably, and late, after looking right at me.

I believe I was on camera frequently, even infrared camera. This was embarrassing for me. I would notice responses to my movements in the form of laughter and conversation, even, once anyway, two phone calls.

Further, sometimes officers, as I believe, will throw rocks or something up under the appliances, disturbing me at night. Further, they will knock on the wall, causing me stress, and a reason to go check the door. Sometimes, there is a noise at night, which I believe to be exclusively to frighten me.

Further, I believe the officers still enter because of tilted pictures. Also, there was a spatula, missing for years, which was replaced recently. The same thing happened to a foot file.

An Ikea quilt deserves special mention, it was exchanged, and I was left freezing under an old technology quilt, I suppose, with black feathers, freezing. I am still cold, because whatever that landlord used to jack the heat, stayed with the apartment, whether it’s dirt in the lines or what have you, it’s seventeen degrees, borne out by a call to the city last spring, after freezing for four winters.

Further, and I take this moment to apologize for the haphazard nature of this letter, but such as it is, I’m sorry, Prime Minister Trudeau, I also experienced a few moments of deafness, due to construction noise, in the downtown eastside, prior to the 2010 Olympics, as well as weeping, due, specifically, to a certain machine, and frequent migraines.

In the hospital, after getting arrested under the mental health act for refusing to leave Vancouver City Hall at closing time, I was diagnosed as having “somatic delusions.”

Upon arrival in the downtown eastside, in a higher end apartment on Water Street, I was the victim of acidizing, not knowing what it was at the time, my father said to me, “What’s wrong with your face?” It turned my skin yellowy brown, and rough for a period of several months. My skin, to this day, peels, and is rough.

Once, I was hanging a picture, and then went out for a walk. A truck licked up my heels, and when I returned home, the picture was askew by eight inches.

Further to the deafness, I had gone to visit my father when I noticed that his voice was a whisper, frightened, I said, “Dad! Dad! Your voice is a whisper.”

Once, when at 550 Taylor, there were two fake fires. I heard later that someone had lit a jacket and two phone books on fire, and not been evicted. At the time, due to the chemical bombing, I phoned the security desk, and said the following, “I know you’re involved in this,” and was told this, “You can’t prove anything.”

Much later, in Ottawa, while living, for a short while, in a townhouse in Kanata, where the police had taken up residence in the attic to white gas me, I believe, I was shot at. I have a tiny bit of experience with guns from army cadets, and, though I have never seen a round fly, I believe it was a .22 caliber, it fluttered by me, about a meter behind me, as I trudged through the snow late, about 10:30 PM, at night.

Further to the damage to furniture, besides annoying nicks and scratches, the pins were bent on a chest, and on my sofa, causing them to shift dangerously, and a wheel was bashed off a table, leaving a rough metal edge, and leaving the table permanently unstable. I believe that the stove was chipped, in a relatively new building.

Further, it is my belief that something, perhaps gasoline, as I’ve heard from God, was added to my vodka, causing extreme discomfort, in my bladder, for seven months.

Further, I would like to emphasize that whenever a client was present in my home, all assaults would cease. I could not prove anything, ever.

During one phase of the torture, I began writing what I call the Armageddon letters, including, in one, the suggestion of a “whispering campaign,” which, to me, was the only way anyone could help, as I felt, since my building emptied out, that anyone who spoke for me, or, complained about the environment, would be done too, with white gas, I felt. This effort was to no avail, and created further vulnerability.

Further to the fake fires, in one, the stairwell was filled with smoke, and the other stairwell housed a massive shit. I’ve heard of shit from fire fighters, in the boots of female would be fire fighters, so I wondered if they had become involved.

When I called the police to report the gases, I was told immediately, “We’re not coming out.”

Further, I am of the sincere belief that I have been channel blocked for years. I noticed it first about the age of thirty three, as I phoned Shaw in Vancouver and asked for CNN, which I never received, nor the BBC. CNN looped a weather story. I forget what was on the BBC. In addition, though I believe I have always been, since, a victim of this, channel blocking, it was made clear to me at this address, as, first, though I had yet to pay for cable, the English channels disappeared from a small TV given to me by a client, and then the channel channel disappeared, leaving only French stations.

On this note, when my things arrived from storage, in a rage from chemical affection, calmly, however, I threw my large TV out the window, and served five and a half months under the mental health act at both the Queensway-Carleton, and The Royal.

On the topic of the chemicals, the spot under my nose was burned red, and bubbly, though not exactly blisters, more just round and red. Also, my skin was blotchy.

Further to the landlord who tried to kill me, he also used bleach and birch sap, I believe it is, which caused coughing. He would also, regularly, take a shit on the roof, near or in the fan vents, causing the smell to spread through the suite. It is my belief that he would also use semen and shit and boil it on the roof, placing it in the fan vents. I understand e. Coli has an airborne quality, and this worries me too.

In Toronto, in an effort to escape the torture in Vancouver, and also as evidence of call tapping, I was about to sign a lease when, that night, there was a gas used in the hostel, and a noise machine too. This caused me to move again, closer to family, who have since taken up an opportunity to live in [ ], leaving me alone again.

It is my belief that I have no allies at all. I walk the streets for errands, and for exercise, a bit, and nobody looks at me anymore, unless they are laughing. This is my home now. And I have no one. And I have no money either to save myself from ridicule, and ostracization. Nobody looks at me. I’m not that old. I’m not that ugly. But this is how it is now.

To return to the green glow worm, though I was suspicious that the police were entering because of picture tilting, they would always choose one picture, where I ate my dinner, and it was right against the furnace, so that I would wonder if it was vibrating itself sideways. The green glow worm was on a cookie sheet of cooked kale, and despite my suspicion, the truth escaped me. I ate the kale around it, as I was being pushed out of that apartment, and was exhausted and hungry from working seven days a week in massage parlours.

Further, also, once there was a massive cockroach, and once there was a BC spider, when I first arrived in Ottawa, that is.

Once, I confronted the officer whom I thought was responsible for the majority of the chemical torture on West 11th, saying, “Why are you torturing me?” And he only snorted.

Further, once, I was doing laundry, and, on that note, the dryer was gasolined once, and a man raced in, looked right at me, and walked out. I believe the police also exhausted up the parking garage a few times, right next to the laundry, which I would do daily.

Further, I suspected, at any rate, thought, that I had noticed many cars stalking me while I was running on the canal. The cars were very similar in appearance, older, and small, like hatchbacks or something, causing me to wonder if police officers would have a second car for this purpose, for the purpose of crimes, Prime Minister Trudeau.

Further, in Vancouver, I noticed that a bird call was installed along my running route. I could hear it whirring. On that note, bird calls were also used around my apartment, and, even, possibly, at this apartment, a few years ago.

I have neglected to mention that I was both stalked and sirened all the time, even when I was out, even out with a favoured client, even being helicoptered or planed with him. Once, I was planed in a neighbouring small town where family were living at the time. And once I was planed when visiting a friend in [ ].

Having said that there was never any corroboration, there was once. It had become apparent to me that a din would ensue the moment that my client and myself turned to each other to have sex. Once the din was so obvious, that we both remained silent for some time. The din included sirens, planes, helicopters, beeping garbage trucks, and drive bys in general. I was right on the lane.

Further to one of my mental health stays, I was, once, after fleeing medication, locked in a room with no toilet for three and a half days. It smelled of piss.

I believe I was the subject of gossip by nurses, once over hearing a nurse declaring, “sexual grandiosity.”

At one mental health stay, I noticed the tea had been removed. At the desk, I was told, “You don’t need three tea bags.”

I had specific, I felt, tampering with my food, once, believe, my cranberry juice was replaced with communion wine, and, these are the worst, two pieces of white fish tasted like moldy plant pot soil. I had to spit them out. ALL of the meat caused my ovaries, and bladder, pain.

At one stay, I was denied walks, in the form of being left out of the timing for leaving. Once, I signed up, and was not collected. I would see the walking group forming and not be invited. I know this is protocol, from other hospitals.

This seems petty, but the plentiful cereal at night was replaced by humous and crackers or a tiny yoghurt.

This brings to mind incidences which occurred nightly at one hospital, I would, despite the frequent urination caused by my chemical affection, be encouraged to drink “a little more” water with my nightly medication. I begged and pleaded, and the encouragement only continued.

My room was moved repeatedly. Once, I asked to be moved away from a shitter, and I was moved, only to be moved again the next day.

This brings to mind another set of complaints. This time, at the shelter. I was chased for being naked, right into my room, by a staff member. A woman from the street was plaintive, asking for something, I thought it was a blanket, and the response was sarcastic, and unrelenting. After being told to turn in paraphernalia and bottles, I handed in a beer can, and was locked out for three hours. I missed curfew once, sitting at McDonald’s, and my bed was stripped of all my carefully washed linens and blankets. The sweater that I had been using as a pillow was taken too.

Further, this is the kicker, I had had one appointment with that landlord, and my housing worker at the time, and I was about to sign the lease the next day, and I was moved from a single room where I had been staying for a few months, to a triple. That day, I was sick from, I believe, a bout of salmonella. Several social workers stood at the door saying my name repeatedly, the ambulance was called, and then the police. At one point, the accountant came into the room, and shoved the dresser so hard that it bent the pins on my nightlight. I showed the police. The police helped me move many garbage bags full of things into the new room.

There were two occasions when I had to get up early for appointments, and, both times the hot water was turned off.

Recently, gasoline was sprayed outside my window, at night, so I had to get up, after a nap, and wash all my sheets and pillow cases, or change them anyway, and wash my body, as it was summer, and I was naked, and, I understand, from my helper in heaven, Patrick Crean, that more would have absorbed into the body, without coverings, like when you pump your gas.

The most recent assault was with gasoline, directly into the apartment.

Recently, I was removed from my Community Treatment Order, and yet I am still compelled to take medication. I don’t understand this. I actually consider it to be blackmail, the way I’m coerced by the threat of being placed back on the Community Treatment Order, should I fail to comply “voluntarily”. Further, I find the shot in the rump to be extremely undignifying.

Further to my mental health stays, at one hospital I was strapped to the bed five times, with what I perceived to be dirty restraints, against my bare genitals. It was hazardous to be forced into lying down for long periods because of the need for the toilet. Further, on one occasion, I was exhausted and stumbling for three days from, I believe, one dose of Valium.

Further to my brief tenancy at a townhouse in Kanata, there was a home invasion. It was almost surreal, as I was so frightened that I was praying, and God led me down to the basement, and I could hear someone running around the second and third floors.

Further to that time, I was arrested under the mental health in a most disruptive way. First of all, I had no idea I was being considered for arrest, second, I was in the bathtub when the officers entered, the female officer telling me brusquely to dress. Thirdly, a former “crime” was cited as a reason for the arrest, an incident where I had become lost in my new neighbourhood, and was sitting in a parked car, albeit illegally, I was not charged, but only driven back home.

I was subjected to four years of stalking by non-police fans, I knew who they were, but would not say their names, feeling responsible, in part, for my own silly behaviours, such as an offensive tee shirt, and a gang bang contest.

The stalking involved throwing rocks at my building. Once, pennies were scattered around the entrance to one of my apartment buildings, also dimes. I don’t know who all was involved at times. When I first noticed fan activity, they were calling my name in the downtown eastside. At the same time, I felt I hadn’t a friend in the world.

Once, I went for a jog, only to discover the entire neighbourhood looking at me over the previous night’s hovering helicopter.

Once, at St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver, I was not permitted to return to my home in Ottawa, the stipulation was that I had to find my own psychiatrist. I was lucky to find one, having to call several individuals.

Prior to that, the reason for my admittance, was that I confronted a family member about some memories of rape as a child, only to be bruised on the arm, wrestled to the floor, and later arrested for refusing to speak. The fact of the matter is, I did not turn a trick in my mother’s apartment. I had sex with a client, but was not paid, as we had an arrangement.

In Ottawa, I could tell men were sharing video of me, because I saw a reaction from someone I’d never seen. There was a rash of clients wanting to take video.

Further to the single room that I stayed in, for a period of time, at the shelter. This room, unlike the others, was dirty. The sink smelled of urine, the corner had splatters of vomit and, maybe, shit, and all of the walls had been written on in red. I cleaned the room mercilessly with Lysol, only to be turfed out of it, for only two days, just to inconvenience me, I felt.

Further to that room, it overlooked two restaurants, and I asked for curtains to no avail, eventually hanging a blanket I found on the street, and washed, on one side. The mirror, hung unevenly by the contractor, was most welcome.

Further to the landlord who tried to kill me with paint, allow me to illuminate that this onslaught involved hours upon hours of paint fumes, through the open windows and the fan vents, giving rise to constant vomiting, in rituals, to stay alive, including the pounding of water, moldy, from the tap, and one episode of unconsciousness resulting in white drool from the mouth.

Further, this landlord failed to provide heat for all of October, November, and December that year.

Further, I had to walk from Morisset Avenue to Preston Street four times, each day, in an attempt to pick up my ODSP cheque, and was finally accused of cheque fraud by a clerk holding two pieces of paper, one with a photocopy of my signature. I had signed many cheques that summer, at the bank, from the shelter. I left, quickly. The following month, begging, again, for my cheque, my address was recited, and it was incorrect, so I asked, “How could I commit cheque fraud on a cheque I never received?” The response was incoherent.

The last day of walking, I went unconscious for about two days, and couldn’t walk when I woke up. I soon discovered that the pee can I had been using, to avoid further chemical contamination from the painted bathtub, had been turned into a shit can by, I assume, the landlord, and he had also used all of my toilet paper, and my torn newsprint, and it was thrown everywhere, all over the can and the bag I was shitting in, again to avoid further contamination from the bathroom.

Further, he placed an LED nightlight beside my “toilet.”

Years ago, at the start of my stint in prostitution, I applied for worker’s compensation after quitting a job, which was disallowed at the time, and was asked about my prostitution income, and was told, “Can’t you just do that?”

My doctor, my medical doctor, refused to give me a note stating that my chemical toxicity would make having an attached garage a terrible thing for me, should I ever be placed in housing.

I was recently quoted a twelve year wait from this place where I almost died from toxicity.

Though it is not illegal, the officer who, I believed, was white gassing me on West 11th, shook a dusty rag out on me, while I was cleaning my new used car.

I don’t know the law, but I received one strike and lost my driver’s license over a drug seizure.

Once, another landlord bellowed my name in the hall two weeks before the rent was due, because my roommate had moved out.

Once, a third landlord, of the other apartment I was pushed out of, banged on the door, calling, “I know you’re in there.”

Each time, I’m so traumatized by the move that I forget who my friends are. Once, my mother and I didn’t speak for two years.

The first eviction involved an oven that took six months to fix. Later, in this apartment, the oven took a year to fix. A faulty oven is most depressing.

I have a call in to the city currently about the lack of heat in this apartment. The thermostat is good for about six degrees, and that’s it. I freeze all winter long. The by law officer came out, and checked the temperature, and it is three degrees below the legal limit, and nothing has been done, save, I was given two heaters which cost a fortune to run, and peel, what I believe to be, lead paint off of the walls, and spew it into the air.

Both evictions were actually push outs, as, both times, I was allowed to remain a tenant as long as quit working there. This is illegal, I believe, to dictate how to use my apartment, with nothing official, God tells me.

My character was slandered, as, at the time, I had nothing but a marijuana habit, and the landlord did too, ironically, and she wrote in her testimony that she had read in my journal that I was “hooked up on high speed,” and thought it was another drug addiction.

Further to the police, they broke four pairs of running shoes, and stole a pair too.

Further to running shoes, which are expensive, at this apartment, they stole one runner, and, after I threw the other one out, returned it.

Further to unlawful landlords, at another place, the landlord rang the bell at ten o’clock at night for an hour, when I wasn’t answering. Another time, the same landlord, rung the bell for an hour at one o’clock in the morning, and then entered. I was shaking like a leaf.

At that same place, a townhouse, the police entered one night while I was sleeping, I believe, and broke my two epilators. I had bought a second one when I immigrated to Ontario in order to escape the white gas torture in Vancouver. Some five years later, I went downstairs to find both of the epilators broken. On the same day? Are you kidding me?

Further to the damage to furniture, they spray an antiquing compound on fabric, they did it to a very expensive pair of shoes once as well, they sprayed the antiquing compound on the fabric of a chest, a new one, from The Brick, and it has caused the fabric to fall off in dusty chunks for five years. Every time I go and sweep, there’s new fabric junk on the floor.

Further to my health, when the agent orange landlord, I believe it’s called agent orange, the bathtub, I may have mentioned it was called unguents, I now realize that this is the wrong word for it, it’s a bathtub shellac, in any case, and it causes such tremendous illness so as to cause my asshole to bleed for a year. There are also two occasions of internal bleeding, different composition, which come out in the washroom.

Further, my small B’s turned into D’s and fell. Thanks for that, guy.

Further to injustice, once I thought I was going to go blind from something, and God was telling me what it was. I believe it’s called hydrophane eyes, which causes sticking in the morning, and pain with water. Now I can open my eyes under water again, because I was helped in heaven with picking the plastic out of my eyes, and rinsing, the pain I do not recall.

Recently, I reported a rape to the police which happened some years ago, and, lo and behold, the police showed up unannounced, well, in the stairway, two seconds away. And one thing which really irked me was I asked about my medication, which they are not allowed to do, as, as far as I know, there is no active CTO on me right now, though a call to the rights advisor did not solidify an answer. Further, it was most annoying, and, I believe, illegal, when the social worker in attendance said, upon my assertion that I had gone for my shot that afternoon, “And you’re tellin’ the truth?”

Further, I was accused of having said I didn’t want to take my medication, as though, it seemed, this was some kind of crime in itself.

There was a doctor some years ago, who shoved a speculum in hard, causing my eyes to water. It was for a colposcopy.

When I arrived in Ottawa, a noise machine producing a wave sound was placed on a roof top, for eight months. I used to have to wake up and put the TV on loud on a fuzzy station in order to sleep again. I doubt the neighbours were very happy, in either case.

The was a bus stand off once, which, I believe was not my fault, though it is likely on my police record. This is when there was some snow in Vancouver, and the bus was very slow, and, upon getting on the bus, I said some friendly comment about how busy it was, and was told, “You’re lucky to have a bus at all,” to which I replied, “Oh, fuck off.” The transit police, came, the police came, and nothing was done at all, except to get me off the bus, which I was refusing to do. Funny.

There were four masturbators, or streakers, encountered by me, as a young girl, in Kitsilano.

There was a very bizarre experience in the townhouse in Kanata. It was on a highway, and cars from another part of the world were driving along it. It went on, seemingly for days. I had never seen anything like it, in all the car rallies in Vancouver, and Ottawa, around town, never.

When I arrived in Ottawa, I noted someone staring over at my balcony, and I felt sure that he was a police officer, broken hearted, over a move away from Vancouver. I feel sure of this. Thus, I feel sure that certain officers are moved around to torture me. Maybe even to this day.

I was so sick, and God told me--this is before the bathtub shellac--that my endocrine system was arrested. I had been running a lot, well, not a lot, but every other day or so, and I found that I was no longer able to take a running gait.

I lost it a bit in the hospital, at Queensway-Carleton, I had been refused soap for so long and I came out of the washroom, and was refused soap again, and I dragged my hands down the front of the shirt of one the nurses, and, I forget, but God tells me I said something like, ‘You take my shitty hands then.’ I kind of remember, but not totally. My memory has been extremely affected by abuse, I believe, not impact but ingestion, of, I believe, God tells me, anyway, e. Coli. I can’t remember anything sometimes, like names, places, like now, I can’t even think of anything to say, but I forget so much.

Some time ago, from a finance course I had taken at night school, I was awarded a small silver bar, which has been missing for some time, though I may have misplaced it.

Further, I noticed recently, after tucking away a card repeatedly, that there is only one business card of mine left, little works of art, of which I was quite proud. I was saving one of each, and I had designed them myself in Publisher.

Further to police harassment, once, I made a piece of torte for an officer whom I believed was torturing me, and out of my set of cutlery disappeared a dessert fork. Do you think that is fun having a piece of cutlery missing for fifteen years?

A doctor told me to stop talking to God.

Further, some months after I received my apartment, and the torture had ensued, and the landlord had disappeared, only to be replaced by a man of the same name, and startlingly similar in appearance once, only, the rest of the time, I felt sure it wasn’t him, but a gangster in his stead, the ODSP financial worker who I had been assigned to, also disappeared, and was replaced, though I never met her, by a woman of the same name, with a different voice.

Further to the police torture, my favorite blanket was shortened by four inches. You think this isn’t noticeable, but it is. When you lie on your back, your feet stick out. Of course, I can’t lie on my back, my lungs strain, I blowfish, or I suffocate from orthodontics.

Further to the police, they stole my black cardamom, and all my jewelry went missing from this apartment, albeit, probably cheap, from my thieving [ ].

My [ ] made me an ‘L’ ring, and I threw it in the garbage for God. God tells me that the ring was worth $7000. I had no idea, but I followed the orders of God, though, knowing they were real diamonds, feeling it strongly, because they were so pretty.

Items of clothing were stolen, and I’m still having nightmares about it. Also, five new socks were stolen from the laundry at the shelter, as well as other things, says God.

The police, probably oiled two down jackets, one long, and one short, one expensive.

The same chest with the antiquing compound, had its lining torn. If you don’t think that’s annoying, you have another thing coming.

Further to the police torture, I tasted come in my flour when I fried it. I had removed the lumps before using it, but I missed one. The sugar was lumpy too.

Further to the Agent Orange torture, I now have a gross looking and feeling bump on my sphincter, and, though I can’t bring myself to examine it, my asshole is ruined. As well, I have an annoying, similar, bump, on the roof of my mouth. I believe it’s from that. Acid bumps, God told me. Thank you, landlord.

Further, when I was arrested under the mental health act for throwing my TV out the window, the police, I believe, threw my massage table out the window on top of it, and the gangster landlord informed me a year or so later that it was found out there.

Further, my erstwhile [ ] had a key cut, and, God tells me, stole a bunch of stuff too. I still have nightmares about all my favorite tee shirts going missing.

Further to the police thefts, my box of new PEACEKEEPING tee shirts was stolen some years ago. And further, my two epilators, after being jacked, were stolen.

The police, or someone, God tells me, put gasoline in my vodka, back at an old apartment. My bladder hurt for seven months.

Further, the police in Ottawa cut the zipper on a new winter coat.

There is a cop in Vancouver, at the time, who deserves special mention. I once caught him in flagrante delicto with someone in his apartment, where he was living to torture me. His torture was replete, every fifteen minutes, for years. I have heard, from God, that he is good now.

Further, I have been told that there are new burns from acidization over the past few years or so, maybe less.

Lately, there has been a sharp increase in assaults with chemicals, over the past three weeks or so. This reminded me of a time when the police threw a lit cigarette into my window sill. The window was open.

This letter is subject to amendments.

Yours Truly,

Loraine Laney

#LoraineLaneylettertothePrimeMinister

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atlanticcanada · 5 years

Text

Battiste apologizes for social media posts he made

A federal liberal candidate at the centre of a social media fire storm apologized Monday.

It's the first time Jaime Battiste is reacting publically to the social media posts he made years ago.

"I want to start off with the elephant in the room and apologize," Battiste said.

That's how the Nova Scotia Liberal started off a climate change debate at Cape Breton University.

"I take full responsibility for what I said and what I tweeted those years ago," Battiste said. "They were done during a time of heart break and depression and that's not a good time to use humour."

In 2012, Battiste tweeted: "Why do I assume every skinny Aboriginal girl is on crystal meth or pills?"

In another, he made light of sexual assault, tweeting "five minutes in Cheers and I would accidently sexually assault a cougar … twice."

Those comments were called "disgusting and inexcusable" by the Conservative Party's Lisa Raitt.

"These are times in which that kind of women, against minorities, against LGBTQ members," Raitt said. "This is just not acceptable in this day and age. Quite frankly these were not one-offs. These were many comments made over a period of time."

Raitt says Battiste should have come forward earlier and should now resign, but the Prime Minister of Canada is backing his candidate.

"We recognize that Jaime Battiste took responsibility for his actions and has apologized," Trudeau said.

While Battiste says some people have reached out to him to show support, others have not been so kind leading to some security concerns at the debate.

"I'm just making sure that things are okay," he said. "I haven't been able to see the online things because my team has kept them away from me."

For now, Battiste says he wants to leave his past behind him and move forward with election day just two weeks away.

Battiste ended the debate Monday by saying all he can do is apologize, and whether voters accept that apology will be clear on election day on Oct 21.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/33dpbnW

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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hyphen-ish-blog · 7 years

Text

a whole lotta questions

“Rules: answer the questions given to you and then write 10 questions of your own. Tag 10 people.” Tagged by @janusthelonely. Thanks for the tag! I’ll see if I can do this without writing too much 😛

1. If you were president what would be at the top of your agenda?

As much as I hate Trudeau, his rearrangement of the House of Commons to proportionately represent Canada’s demographic is laudable, and about as close to the ‘veil of ignorance’ as we’re gonna get, but the very first thing would be bringing about proportional representation, rather than first past the post and all the gerrymandering that comes with it.

2. What exotic animal would you most like to own?

A pet’s a pet in the end, and taking care of them can be a hassle, but practicalities aside maybe an Owl or a Raven (which I could house atop a bust of Pallas and name Lenore 😉)

3. Favourite classic poet?

I’m enjoying Bukowski at the moment but he may be too contemporary for the question. Ted Hughes has some haunting poems, and I’m tempted to say Percy Shelley because my favourite poem is Ozymandias, but considering the broader strata of a poet’s works, Poe most consistently impresses me.

4. Best movie you’ve seen lately?

Well two nights ago I was watching The Manchurian Candidate, which coincided with my reading The Men who Stare at Goats (the two are linked, and reading the latter shows the veracity of the former) and I watched The Big Short, which I intend to review to better grasp their criticism of American economics. It would definitely be one of those two, no doubt. Ooh, or maybe Apocalypse Now, it’s also inspired by an incredible book.

5. The world is about to end, you can only save three people. Who do you save?

There’s a real temptation here to say nobody, to spare the earth another century of human existence.

6. What year do you wish you could have been born in?

I’d say somewhere in the 19th century, before individualism became the prevailing western ideology, but historical records of its occurrence date back even farther. It started around the French revolutions (1600s) but even then there was a strong sense of community. Perhaps in the US in the 1870s, where people were generally organised into their insular town communities. Everyone had a place, everyone was necessary, no one could function alone. Or maybe I just really want to be Shane. Howdy.

7. Least favourite food?

Most seafood really. For some reason I love sushi, but fish in any other way is just repulsive. Sorry pescatarians, y’all are disgusting.

8. Which fictional character do you wish you were?

Not a question I’m overly fond of engaging in because I hate escapism, but I guess I’d have to be ethical consumption under capitalism if any fictional character.

9. You’re at heaven’s entrance, you’re allowed in, but you have to confess your worse sin. What’s your confession?

This is the most difficult to answer. As a practicing Christian myself, I try to live my life virtuously. Of course it’s riddled with human faults, maybe my vices are greater than most people’s, but these are things I strive daily to overcome. I’m a pretty straight-edge person, but there was a case in my work last year when I was speaking about a kid I was working with. I wasn’t speaking with any malicious intent, but I could’ve watched my words, danced more carefully around the edge of insult - this would be one example of many. The greatest vice of mine would be that I don’t think for myself enough, and if we’re looking for naturalistic explanation of that, it’s because I’m a very envious person, and so I lean upon other people’s mental faculties, ever wary of my own and ever exalting of others’, and I’m very bitter towards people for that.

10. Do you like/get along with your parents?

Maybe they’re not the best ones I could’ve asked for, but they’re the only ones I’ve got.

My questions, if you’re up for them:

1. How would you describe your sense of humour?

2. What is your greatest vice?

3. What is your greatest virtue?

4. If you could change your life, would you and how? Or perhaps, why haven’t you?

5. I’m a classics nerd, may as well – what is your favourite mythological entity (talking gods, beasts etc.)?

6. What does melancholy sound like to you?

7. What would your last meal on earth be?

8. Do you have a favourite comedian, and if so, whom?

9. First colour that comes to mind: what is it, and what does it remind you of?

10. Last one, let’s make it count: how did you get where you are now?

@teacup13 @thequaliaproject @strangecolorenthusiast @poetbitesback @giulswrites @followcb @chetnajha @sarahmariepardy anddd that’s all the people I have to tag 😐 not quite 10 but oh well.

#if ya like #10 qs #response #yeah I def wrote too much #gl with yours!!

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swawesome-wow · 7 years

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If you wanted people to be informed, you'd have mentioned Palestinian terrorists and Hamas. You'd have mentioned the suicide bombings and hundreds of murdered innocent Israelis. You'd have mentioned the Palestinian leadership that first declined coexistence in 1948 and rejected every offer of peace since then. You'd have mentioned lies and propaganda and blood libel against Jews, thought in Palestinian schools. You care about playing the victim. But it's an old game. And you'll lose.

I wasn’t going to take the time to respond, but it’s summer break, and I refuse to let you hide behind anonymity and not learn a little something while you’re there.

1. “If you wanted people to be informed, you’d have mentioned Palestinian terrorists and Hamas. You’d have mentioned the suicide bombings and hundreds of murdered innocent Israelis.”

Oh yes, how could I forget to talk about Palestinian terrorists and Hamas. The thousands upon thousands of innocent Israelis killed. Wait, what’s that? 1,213 Israelis have been killed since September 29, 2000. 9,478 Palestinians have been killed since September 29, 2000. I have never claimed that Palestinians have not killed innocent Israelis. Those numbers are only since the year 2000. Israel has occupied Palestine for 50 years, give or take, as you yourself aptly admitted by bringing up the conference in 1948. There is immense loss on both sides, though one has lost nearly 9x as many lives. However, comparing it numerically is extremely reductive, not only are you wrong numerically, you’re ignoring why people have been slaughtered on both sides, and what brought everyone to this point. There is no “justifying” the murder of Israelis by Palestinians, there is only understanding why these killings happened, holistically, and understanding the context.

People refer to it now as the Israeli-Palestinian “Conflict, Divide, etc.” But before recent, heavy political and monetary support of Israel, it was called the Palestinian Genocide, for good reason.

2. “You’d have mentioned the Palestinian leadership that first declined coexistence in 1948 and rejected every offer of peace since then.”

Let me make this very, painfully clear.

Palestine does not owe coexistence to Israel. Israel is an occupying state, an oppressive state, and one that has committed genocide against the Palestinian people.

To bring it down to your level of understanding, the Palestinians were there first. Palestinians of EVERY religion, including Judaism, though I’ll touch on that later. The Palestinian leadership has been lamentable, no one is denying that. But let me put it this way:

Let’s say America was invaded today, by, say, Canada. (Sorry Canada, you were the first country to pop into my head, since I owe half my citizenship to you.) After things calm down enough for the leaders to meet, Trudeau says to *shudder* Trump (or even Obama, in this fake scenario, would make the same decision), “Hey man, I know you were here first and everything, and I know we bloodily invaded you, but like, let’s just coexist, like on that bumper sticker you guys are so fond of.” Do you honestly think the President of the United States of America, would EVER agree to something like that? Seriously? Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Even 50 years later, America would still be fighting for its freedom from its maple-drenched oppressors. So why are you holding Palestine to such ridiculous standards?

I am truly saddened by the violence that has stemmed from this entire situation, but until Israeli soldiers stop wrongfully arresting, imprisoning, and killing Palestinians, even children, I don’t think you can possibly hope for “peace.”

My grandmother, a few years back on a return visit to Palestine after she fled so many years ago to Canada, was stopped at the border wall (yes, there is a wall there, in case people were unaware) for eight hours, for no reason. She was not charged with anything, neither were her daughters, my aunts, that were with her. Her crime was being Palestinian. I wonder what that sounds like.

Oh yes, and because of that wall, the already pitiful economy of the Gaza Strip has crumbled, and they have no way of rebuilding it. Even if Palestinians find jobs in Israel, they’re backed up for hours each day just trying to get processed through the wall in either direction. They’ve been economically choked off from the rest of the world, yet Israel continues to receive monetary aid as if they’re in desperate need.

3. “You’d have mentioned lies and propaganda and blood libel against Jews, thought in Palestinian schools. You care about playing the victim. But it’s an old game. And you’ll lose.”

Once again, I need to make something crystal clear. So listen up. \

Palestinians do not hate Jews. They hate the Israeli government. Not Israelis, not Jews, the Israeli government, because that is the body that is responsible for Palestinian suffering.

Since I was in elementary school, any time someone found out I had Palestinian parents, they immediately made quips or even stated directly that I must hate Jewish people. I had someone say “oh, so you’re anti-Semitic.” I’ve had people ask me if myself or my parents are terrorists (and I used to be Christian, now I don’t practice anything, my point being that I can’t imagine how hard it is for any Muslims). This misconception is so widespread that it’s toxic, killing any reasonable discourse on the subject by people stamping me with the anti-Semite sticker. So, I’m sorry, I haven’t had the chance to play the victim. Let me know how that goes for you.

What I said earlier, about all religions coexisting? Let me elaborate.

For the thousands of years that Palestine has existed, Christians, Muslims, Jews, ~whatever~ lived side by side, happily and comfortably. Another misconception is that the Israeli movement came from within Palestine, which is just plain misinformation. This is a very, very reductive explanation of what actually happened, forgive me for not being more detailed:

When the second World War ended, there were thousands upon thousands of displaced European Jews (mostly German as you might imagine, but elsewhere as well). When Europe (and America) tried to figure out where to help these people relocate, no one wanted to take them in, deciding it would be too difficult to reintegrate. Palestine had the room and the kind heart needed to take them in, so that’s where many were relocated, en masse. But it was a finite time that Palestine agreed to host these refugees as refugees, they would eventually need to either integrate with the Palestinian people (gain citizenship, etc), or decide where they would want to move, if not stay there. But the relationship began to change, as some began to perpetuate the idea that they belonged there all along, and that the Palestinians were the ones that needed to leave or integrate elsewhere. As with most conflict, religion took a match and set it to kerosene, as suddenly Jerusalem was the center of the occupier’s claims to the land. While I won’t try to argue about it as I’m not informed enough on religious history, I will say that it is entirely possible to create a religious homeland without literally invading the country and creating a religious state. Church and state are separate for a reason, and have to cooperate, not override one another.

So there are plenty of Palestinian Jews that understand and are outraged at the Israeli government, though they have been left out of intentional eviction, arrests, torture, and killings.

COMIC RELIEF BREAK that is actually somewhat related but I promise it’s funny:

One time my mom was telling me about something that happened over in Palestine to friends of our family so word made it back to us. Like I said, the three major religions were living pretty happily together, especially where these friends lived. The IDF was evicting all the Palestinians from a neighborhood to allow Israeli settlers to take over. Our friends were one of the families kicked out, and they were best friends with the Jewish family next door! So when the IDF came knocking on the Jewish family’s door to offer them the keys to their best friends’ house, (they were Jews so they were allowed to stay with the new Israelis coming in), the husband of the family was FURIOUS. He started to back-talk, offended at the very thought, but his wife (the really clever one in this story) shut him up and took the keys. The husband couldn’t believe his wife would betray their best friends like that, but she just rolled her eyes in a “you idiot” fashion. They had the keys now, and they promptly gave them back to their best friends so they could reclaim their property! I always thought that story was hilarious :D

While I am disgusted at the thought that you could somehow compare this entire subject to a game, if that’s the only way you can comprehend such a vast discourse, I’m happy to oblige the metaphor: The only “loser” here is the one who can’t think for themselves and hasn’t done a little goddamn research, you soggy walnut.

Speaking of research! Here are a couple of resources for those who have been following along! I honestly can’t say that the second is an unbiased source, however if you’re looking for straight statistics and numbers, check out the first link! It’s where I got the exact numbers I used above. If you want the international law/human rights perspective, check out the third link. Thanks y’all!

http://ifamericaknew.org

http://www.globalresearch.ca/israels-genocide-towards-palestinian-arabs/5591341 (thanks canada)

https://ccrjustice.org/genocide-palestinian-people-international-law-and-human-rights-perspective (really good source explaining the international law and human rights perspective on the issue)

#palestine #israel #palestinian #palestinian genocide #israeli occupation #international law #human rights #anon #swawesome is pissed right off

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marlaluster · 6 years

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The devil continues attacking EXTREMELY BAD, pressing irritation n that I'm not going to be able to get out of devil world, it's starting to make me sweaty. ....

It seems it was supposed to stop making me sweaty, but it's doing it again. It seemed it was threatening it earlier n assessing earlier if it could attack worse. But it was pressing Justin Trudeau is to be like who he really is here n w the person that's supposed to be his wife here, it was pressing i wouldn't have anywhere to go to end the world, etc. It was pressing a very sick sex image earlier it was supposed to be what looked like me having sex w two black men w bad shapes n small penises, it was supposed to be very offensive. It's very obsessed w plans for sex for me n this society very obsessed w it's plans for people's lives. It's extremely sick n disgusting here. The devil bringing up the food again. It was going crazy attacking. Just now as i was writing I paused n it was saying it had to leave now. It dies say this a lot.

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