2022-02-09 - Healers and Incels

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : First impression with my boss after that fucking dream has boss not impressed, coworker is driving me to the hospital. You need a lift?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I think I'll just bleed out quietly in bed. I'm not really injured as far as I can tell -- not besides feeling awful and hurting all over. May have sprained an ankle, not sure. Did you start a new job? What happened to working at town hall?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : ~hours later~ Well. I have two fractured ribs and the doctors tried to figure out if I was being abused. So that was a fucking nightmare. Remind me to just suffer next time. No, but my lass boss was fired after all the corruption shit so they hired someone new. Took a while.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Is the new boss at least someone who doesn't feel like they're going to toss you under the boss the first time someone needs to take a fall?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Also, I'd definitely say you're being abused. It's just bloody hard to press charges against the dolorphages. I'd sue them six ways sideways into Sunday if that was an option, trust me.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Talk to Kailey Holt or Aidan Kinney, or August Roen if you get a chance. There's a number of people in this town who can heal -- it's often easier to go to them than to the ER, because well, they won't look at you like you need a shirt with funny sleeves when you tell them a dream construct kicked you out of a plane.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Heh. Yeah - I just didn't explain how I got hurt. Because fuck that... remind me to get a roommate who can heal then.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Now, I'm not saying that's the -only- reason I live with Aidan but it sure is convenient.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Have you found out what -your- thing is yet? I don't remember you ever telling me. Occurred to me last night that I don't know what you do. Just like you apparently didn't know that moving things is what -I- do.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Thing? I don't have a thing. I have a dog. Also, what the fuck happened with "I'm not good at things" Mr. I just pushed a fucking tractor? Do you have any idea how much that shit weighs?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Yes, I'm aware. I pushed the steering wheel, to tell it which way to go. The engine did the rest. But I'll agree, it was easier than I expected. You most likely have 'a thing' -- whatever it is. Or a little bit of everything. I ask because while I'm pretty sure you can't heal yourself, learning to heal might make you a lot of friends -- some of which might be able to return the favour.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Imagining myself as someone who cares enough to heal other people made me laugh and that shit hurts. Don't do that again. -- okay but you realize that without something on the pedal the tractor wouldn't go right? So that shit was almost all you. They don't make big machines that go on their own.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Yeah, I realise that. But it's not like I lifted two tons of machine and threw it out there. Small pressure, to the right places. Bloody hell, I swear, if I could move living things, we'd have floated down gently like feathers.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Which reminds me, I need to make a pig fly. I don't suppose you have a pig plushie sitting around somewhere?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : No - you just pushed that shit. Do I need to lay out the mathematics of force behind what you did? And no - no pig. Again, dog. Just got home, Elsa wants to go walk. Doesn't get why I'm not wanting to do it.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Can't move living things. That's why I need a -- pig plushie or figurine or whatever. It's a bet. I've finally found a way to get proper coffee at Espresso Yourself. Dazzle the new barista with magic tricks.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : The fact that you're a not-gay man with money should have been enough. I still don't get why you didn't throw a shit storm about that.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Well. For one, I don't have 'hetero' tattooed on my forehead. A lot of women assume I'm gay -- not that it matters a whole lot for getting coffee, you'd think. Second, I don't have dollar signs tattooed on my forehead either, and I don't exactly roll around in money. And finally, eh, I don't know. It's kind of fun in its own weird way. Gives me an excuse to outrageously steal everyone else's coffee, too.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Note to self, never let you near my coffee. Got it. Does this town have a spa or something? I feel like I need to drown in hot water for a while.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Or just someone with a hot tub I can steal? That'd work too.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Pretty sure there's rooms with jacuzzis at the Casino hotel. There's a jacuzzi at the Murder Motel but from what I've heard it's anyone's guess whether it's functional and what's been in the water before you. I'd be kind of up for a hotel trip, though -- could get a few of us together, rent a jacuzzi, spend a day doing mud masks and outrageous drinks.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : You did nothing to boost your hetro status with that.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) Some day you're going to realise that I actually don't care one bit what orientation people think I have. Pampering at a spa sounds wonderful the way my ribs and legs feel.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Besides, I'm Rosencrantz' straight boyfriend. I get gay privilege from that, or something.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I don't think that's how that works. I'm making the reservation now. You come with money to by drinks and friends. Invite Perdita and whomever else you want. I would but I don't want her to get the wrong idea that I just want to see her in a bathing suit. Which I do, but also, platonic, k?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Oh, so you don't want to see me in a bathing suit?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Guys bathing suits are generally whatever - like, you don't have boobs to be covered up ~just~ enough.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Yeah, good point. I don't think I could rock a mankini tbh.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I hate so much that you just made me google that shit.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Good, why should I be alone in suffering through the knowledge that this thing exists.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I hate you with all that I am

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Different topic - what is up with your dad and skydiving?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Eeeh. Basically, the old man would get this idea in his head every once in a while, that as a Responsible Parent he should sometimes Spend Quality Time with his son, and Make A Man out of me. So he'd drag me off to one of his adventures -- sky diving, reef diving, deer hunting, mountain climbing. Stupid stuff that cost a fortune and served no other purpose than to prove to himself that he was a Good Dad.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Speaking as an academically inclined, asthmatic nerd, I did not find it very exciting.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Did he play into the trope of paying a prostitute for you too?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : ...

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : No. Not directly. But it was always understood that there is no mistake a young man in a certain position in society can make, that can't be silenced with a lawyer and enough money.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : ... So I stole cars and got myself arrested a few times, to see if it was true. It is.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Fuck that shit.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Don't look at me, it wasn't my idea.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Stealing cars wasn't your idea?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Well, yes. I meant, that there's no such things as consequences if you can afford a good enough lawyer.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : You know you are part of what is wrong with this world, right? Also, what kind of prostitution do I have to do to get on your will? So long as the veil doesn't fuck me over too bad I might live long enough to cash in.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : How exactly am I what's wrong with this world, m'dear? I'm a history teacher who spends his free time volunteering for a charity.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Alright - that wasn't fair. Your parents, but I guess you'd agree with that. If you had the CHOICE - and a nice man trained in this shit, would you try jumping out of a plane again?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I don't know that it'd be my first choice for a way to spend a day off but I suppose I could be convinced, with a real instructor and a good reason. It's not going to be something I get up to on my own -- those straps and buckles are hell on me. You?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I'll answer that once it doesn't hurt o breathe. I thought you said if you knew the touch was coming - is it more nuanced than that?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : How the hell am I supposed to know where all those things are going to pinch me next?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I mean... It seems obvious to me? It's whatever they're next to, but maybe I'm crazy. How the hell do you live with that?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Well, the alternative is a little bleak? There are medications but they make me feel like I'm walking around in a glass bubble and not giving a damn what happens around me. It's a disability -- I guess I should just be glad I don't have a disability that chains me to a bed or a feeding tube. It's mostly habit -- you learn what not to do, and such.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : It seems like life is 90% shit that happens taht you can't control or expect though. I don't know. I guess I just can't understand it. Fuck pain?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Fuck pain, fuck racism, fuck sexism, fuck poverty, fuck a lot of things. Spa day sounds fun to be honest. I'll have to invest in a pair of swim trunks. I went swimming last summer in the bay in cargo shorts but I don't think that'll fly in a jacuzzi.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : So what you're saying is that you and I need to meet up to go shopping?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I suppose it could be read that way if you don't own swimming clothes either!

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I mean - of COURSE I wear swimming clothes. But I'm not going to object to a new Bikini. Meet me at <insert place> tomorrow at <time>. Not today - the pain meds are kicking in.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Yeah, can't say I feel like a drive today, either. Tomorrow's good. Yes. And let me say it right now: NO CARTOON DUCKS.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Look - I can't control what will look hot on you.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : No one looks hot wearing cartoon ducks.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Says you.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I'll do Darkwing Duck if you do Daisy Duck.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I'll do daisy dukes, though blond pulls those off better.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Daisy Dukes? Like in Dukes of Hazzard? I think I watched an episode or two of that in a hotel room once. Something something America something long legged girl fast cars something?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Yep! Really small jeans. They mostly cover the butt.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Ah, right. Yes. I know what you mean. Denim hotpants. Accidents waiting to happen, or at least that's what you're meant to hope. You turn up in a pair of those, we'll definitely get attention of some kind or other.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Look, I can't control what other people think.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : 🎶 Fortunately not 🎶

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : The purple notes seem weird from you.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I'm sorry, they don't come in black.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : And yet, I don't believe that sorry. Someday you'll surprise the fuck out of us all by breaking out into a rainbow.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Maybe. I've told you before, I think. I wear black because it's practical. It's not a statement. And if you want to swan around me in denim hotpants, I'm not going to be complaining, either.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I see no way that black is practical.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : It's very practical when you live in a backpack. Everything goes into the same laundry machine while you wait for the next Greyhound.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : So are you saying your underwear is black?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Well. Actually. It used to be, but Vic Grey did throw a pack of rainbow coloured boxers at me once.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : So it isn't black any more? Also, you don't live out of a backpack.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : No, I know I don't. I live, 8 months a year, on a very small boat. Why would I want to go out and buy a metric buttload of new clothes?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Because it is fun.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I guess I'll have to take your word for that. People enjoy shopping for clothes because they picture the reaction they'll get -- the oohs and aahs. Given I've spent most of my life trying to stay unnoticed it's never had a lot of appeal to me.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : And yet you don't mind looking at others, see, your daisy dukes comment. Ever think that maybe you should give if you give back?

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I usually keep my thoughts about other people's appearances to myself. But I figured that as well as you give, I should give back. 😉

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : So a mankini for you huh? insert picture here

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Do you -really- want to see me do the Borat, dear?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : See it? Nah. See your face as you do it? Absolutely.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : My face will be a grimace of why the hell do I let women talk me into stupid things all the time, and you can watch it any time you convince me to order some fruity cocktail or go somewhere that requires a tie. Why do you hate me that much, you vixen?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : So, adding to the list... Also, deer, not fox.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I shall refer to you as my B hind from now on if you insist.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Serious question? What is it about my face that makes women want to remind me who's boss?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : You sure you really want to call me a bitch? I will throw that shit back in your face. Which is pretty but you don't do shit with it. That is fucking annoying.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : ... A hind is a female deer.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Also, you didn't answer my question.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : I did - you have a pretty face but don't do shit with it.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : ... Oh. Yes. I didn't read it that way, sorry. Hang on -- the reason women seem to need to remind me regularly who's boss is that I'm not dating anyone? I'm sorry, I don't think my estrogen levels are high enough to parse this one.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Nah - that you are pretty but don't flirt with them. Makes one feel ugly in comparison.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : In comparison with who? I don't flirt with anyone, except when I know they won't take it for more than a joke.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : In comparison to you. Pretty people are suppose to flirt - it is biology or whatever, get the best mate. You don't, so we must be inferior.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : Okay, I am circling the date on my calendar. This is the first time I've heard incel Chad theory out of a woman. Seriously?

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : What? Incel is about ~sleeping~ with people. This is all about feeling pretty.

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : They're the ones who believe you need to find your 'looksmatch' and that handsome men get the pretty women and vice versa. If you'll excuse my bluntness, that's bull.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Again - not getting my point. You asked why women treat you like shit. It's because they feel like they aren't pretty enough for you, so try to drag you down to their level. Look - you asked!

(TXT to Isi) Ravn : I don't think I said women treat me like shit. This is... very silly. And, speaking from personal experience, also very far beside the mark. I'm not exactly besieged by hordes of women trying to capture my attention just because I happen to have won a pair of cheekbones in the lottery of life. And I'm pretty damn certain most women look for more in a man than a pair of cheekbones anyhow.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : alright