burntheedges

[burntheedges]

Hi lovely K! Dropping by with some writing asks 🙂‍↕️💘

3, 7, 8

Wishing you a fantastic & great rest of your day ✨🌸

hiii erika!! 🧡 these are fun thank you

3. what makes you love writing?

I love translating what's in my head into something I and others can read, I think. I used to make up new stories all the time in my head and just keep them there, but now I get to take them out? that's pretty rad. and also share it and have other people interact with it? even more rad. I also really like writing dialogue and making people fall in love, lol.

7. what books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? why?

There are some authors I love because of the stories they tell, some for their way with words, some for the way they write dialogue or build worlds... here's a few:

Maggie Stiefvater (Raven Boys) and Nnedi Okorafor have a way with imagery that gets stuck in my brain and never leaves.

Connie Willis (Dooms Day Book), Nnedi Okorafor (Binti), Tamsyn Muir, Cixin Liu, Seanan McGuire, Ben Aaronovitch (Rivers of London series), Tade Thompson (Rosewater), and Amal El-Mohtar (This is How You Lose the time War) have a way of telling stories and creating worlds that turn my world upside down.

8. which of your own projects have shaped your writing the most? in what way?

Probably Maintenance Request, in terms of figuring out how to write a long story and plot it out. and then what it is to grow, in terms of doing a character study and really getting in their head.

send me a writing ask

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1D OMEGAVERSE NONCON was what took out AO3

so, we all suffered through ao3’s recent downtime:

so i got curious, because i was bookmarking things when the site went down and wouldn’t it be funny if i was the one who broke it lmao (😔no it wasn’t me but i helped)

https://archiveofourown.org/bookmarks/2147483647 is this

absolutely iconic 10/10 no notes good job team 😂

[burntheedges]

[burntheedges]

I was planning on having Sam say something about building community with kindness, but apparently he had other ideas.

So I guess this is instead, a cockroach moment. A "I'll be as queer and asian as I want, fuck you" moment. A "it's your turn to recognize my humanity" moment. A "I will keep asking uncomfortable questions and making you acknowledge what you're doing" moment.

TBH I almost didn't draw a comic this year, since I haven't consumed any Marvel content in over 4 years, and, well... ::gestures at everything::. But it turns out that my brain still wants to trot out these 3 dudes and make them talk about America, so I banged this out in 5 hours.

Yes, I've been doing this for 12 years. Here's the AO3 link if you want to see all 12: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968099 (wow, look at baby me's opinions from the first Trump term!)

And here's the tumblr tag: https://potofsoup.tumblr.com/tagged/happy%20birthday%20steve/chrono

I promise the other years are a lot more hopeful.

[burntheedges]

Andor Appreciation Day 2 - Everyone Has Their Own Rebellion

@andorappreciation

[burntheedges]

Seeing as how the Big Beautiful Bill just passed, here's are some websites that offer discounts on medications:

- GoodRx

- SingleCare

- Pharmacy Checker

- WellRx - this one compares prices across different pharmacies

Stay safe, everyone. Things are about to get much, much worse in the US.

[burntheedges]

call your reps, please

cried into my senator's voicemail today and I'm just saying if I can, you can too.

Seriously though if you want tips on how to call or a script I got you.

Tips:

Find your reps on house.gov and senate.gov. Save their DC and local numbers in your phone. I have them in mine as FirstNameLastname STATE Position, so STATE is the start of their 'last name' in my phone (ex. Joe Smith NY Senator). Which means I can quickly get to them, they're all in a row in my contacts, and I can call them when I'm motivated. I also save what committees they're on in the notes on the contact info.

Most reps' phones don't ring -- instead you get a menu, like when you call the cable company, and some of the options are leave a message or talk to a staffer. So if you are nervous about talking to a human, you don't have to! You can leave a message.

Write a script before you call. Here are some examples/guides: Indivisible, ACLU Hawaii (specific but also broadly helpful), Autistic Self Advocacy Network, tips from a staffer on IG. Always ask for a response! Here is a basic one:

Hi my name is NAME, I live in ZIP CODE. My phone number/email address is ###. I am calling about [insert topic here]. I am concerned/I care because [insert why]. I want (to urge the senator to vote X/to support the NAME OF ACT/to ask the senator speak out publicly about XYZ/to see the senator in the news talking about X/to know the senator's plans for Y). I would like a a call back/email with more info/etc. Thank you.

Find a time that works for you to call and make it a habit.

Today my call started with, "sorry if it sounds like I'm crying. I am. Anyway--" so, you know, you don't have to be perfect. I certainly am not.

[burntheedges]

YESS I can’t wait to read!!!!!

Take me home tonight | Frankie Morales x f!reader

This was written for @burntheedges Summer Tunes Writing Challenge. Thank yo so much for putting it together Kate. I love the creativity you put into choosing each songs and the time you took to create this wonderful challenge.

My prompt was the song Take me home tonight by Eddie Money (lyrics), which I didn't know but loved discovering (I played it on repeat going to work every morning). And since I hate picking a title for my fics, I chose the easy way out.

I also want to thank @iknowisoundcrazy who reminded me of this wonderful Brooklyn Nine-Nine cover of this song that had me giggling so much. Watch it if you need to laugh after reading this.

wc : ~3500

Cw : Angst, hurt, so much hurt, break-up, light smut, comfort, mention of using drugs, Frankie is high and mean. Frankie is really horrible I'm sorry. But we do have happy ending. Reader is abled body has no physical description, but if you notice anything please let me know.

More notes at the end.

I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !

Main masterlist | Read on AO3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

BEFORE

You watch as Frankie stuffs some t-shirts and pants in his travel bag, looking around and checking what else he might need from the closet before going to the bathroom.

You follow him, half crying, half yelling. Something that has been the means of communication between the two of you for the past months. The sweet talk relegated to second position. Far behind. The hurt and anger, first.

"Why? Just explain to me why you have to go now. Like this." You don't want to beg. You've vowed you would stop being passive, and begging. But you can't help it.

"You made yourself perfectly clear." His voice holds scorn, something he’s used with you more and more lately.

"What the fuck? I just said you needed help."

He doesn't answer, looking around, without real purpose, not concentrating on his task. Yet he's still ignoring you.

"Frankie..." You hate your voice, yourself, what he's made you become. And still, you would beg on your knees if it meant things could go back to the way they were before.

"I can't stay when you look at me like that. I know I’m not enough, I'm not good enough." He says this without emotion, stating a fact. Eyes jerking around, opening the closet, drawers, one after the other, never closing them. No structure in his search whatsoever. The contrast to his normal self more flagrant when his fist hit the sink, holding in a frustrated scream.

"But I love you. And you love me. Isn't that enough?"

"It's eating me up, staying here all day. It keeps me up at night. I have to go. I have to make this better. I can't rely on you forever." He's still avoiding your eyes. Because he knows you'll see how dilated his pupils are. You don't even need to see it to know. It's like a sixth sense now.

"I need to go." He's pleading with you, hands on the sink, face down, shattered.

"Let me be there for you." You come close, your hand ready to touch his arm, tentative.

"You can't." He pushes away from the sink and pushes past you out of the bathroom.

"I don't want you to go. Leaving with them isn't going to help you!" Your voice is loud now, anger overcoming the hurt.

"You don't understand, you never did. They are my brothers–" his tone matches your

"I never said they weren't! You know I love them–"

"Don't." His voice makes you stop. The rage in it could almost scare you, but you try to reason with him.

"I just think living in this state isn't going to help you, it's going to make it worse."

"DON'T! Don't talk about this like you understand it. Don't make me believe you care about them and me, about what we went through together. Stop doing this, the fake understanding, the fake care. Let me make it clear, you'll always come after them. You are nothing compared to them."

All pretense is gone. It's over now. The way he speaks, the way he looks at you, it's like the weak bridge finally collapsed, leaving a large gap between you. The slap you needed. And even if you see the regret, the shame in his eyes as soon as the words are out, even if you know it's not really him, it's not really Frankie right now, it's like a wake-up call.

"Fuck you. Frankie."

"Baby…" He tries to come back to you, to bridge the gap that is widening even if neither of you are moving. Distance isn't measured in inches, it's measured in the hurt that he has inflicted over and over again.

"Leave. And don't ever come back."

"Baby..." He's clawing his way to you, crawling through the hole, but it's too late. The distance is getting bigger and bigger even as he tries to come closer.

"You don't get to talk to me like that. Never again! "

"Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Stop! You don't get to insult ME after all of it, after everything. I was there. I always was. I stayed. You don't get to talk to me like this. I know you don't mean it, you never do. It's always anger, it's always regret. Fuck you Frankie. It's the coke talking, I know it isn't you. But I'm done making excuses for you. If you refuse to get help, fine. Just. Go."

The gap between you is too big now. No one will ever get across it. And there is no going around it either. It's over. And he knows it. You see his jaws tightening, sliding it to the side, chewing on nothing. His eyes look into yours one last time.

"Fine. I'll come back later for my stuff."

"Don't. Send Will or Benny. I don't ever want to see you again."

"Ok."He turns on you, never to look back, his hand is on the doorknob. This is the last time you see him. It's for the best, but you need to try one last time.

"Frankie". He doesn't turn his head. He can tell from your tone that you didn't change your mind.

"Don't get yourself killed. And work through your shit. If not for you, do it for the next person."

You watch as he closes the door behind him, like those last words meant nothing to him. And you crumple to the floor.

INTERLUDE

It's a quiet night, so you have time to talk. He looks at you, and his smile makes you feel gooey inside. It gets larger, and the dimple there melts you a little more as he comes forward.

"Hi, I'm Frankie."

"Hi Frankie. Customers don't usually introduce themself before ordering." You can't help the slight turn up of your lips.

"And bartenders aren't usually this breathtaking." He's got you smiling widely now

"Smooth Frankie, very smooth." Laughing as you wipe the counter, it's all clean, but you need to do something to have some countenance, or else you might just lean over to him.

"Do I get your name for that?" The crinkles around his eyes deepen.

"Maybe later."

The sun has set, and the night is coming out, stars shining shyly above you. Lying down on the blanket, the remnants of the picnic were stacked away. Head on his chest, hands lightly caressing each other. It's quiet, content, and bliss. You watch yourself falling hard for him. You've seen Frankie twice since that first time. The next night, when he got your number, then lunch a few days after. Tonight is special, you feel it. Maybe one day you'll get to think back on this day and think this is when I knew he was the one.

"I don't want to let you go." His voice is low, his breath on your hair. You feel the weight of what he feels in his voice. You turn your head to look at him. It's in his eyes. And in yours, too.

"Then don't let me go. Take me home, tonight."

"I love you." You whisper in his ear, eyes closed. You missed him. His last mission lasted longer. It's been hard. It gets harder every time.

"I love you, too." He holds you tight, so tight. Trying to soak up everything he missed during those days, and mostly nights when he missed you the most. "I'm here now. I'm here to stay forever."

"´Fish, why do you have so much stuff. For someone in the army, you should travel light."

"Shut up and put that box in the living room by the bookshelf."

Frankie looks at you, where you stand next to him, surveying the guys bringing more boxes into your, now shared, house.

"How do you feel about merging our libraries?"

"Anxious. You realize this is the best proof of my love for you?" You look at him with a smile.

"I know."

"Frankie, wake up, Frankie baby, wake up. It's a nightmare." Your gentle, trying not to startle him, ease him awake, out of the darkness that's eating him up.

He's sweating, breathing short, eyes opened, and finally recognising you. His eyes contain so much pain that it breaks your heart. He reaches for you, a lifeline out of his own personal hell.

"It's ok, baby, it's ok. Shhhh." You hold him tight, as tight as you can.

You fall back asleep in his arms. He stays awake. Like most nights

"Fuck Frankie, you said you'd stop!" Your voice holds anger, but mostly, disappointment. He can't bear it.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It was just this once. I'd stopped, I swear, but I needed it that day, just to stay awake, it was a long day–"

"Don't lie to me! You lost your license, Frankie. You are out of a job, and you are lying to me. How can I trust you if you keep lying to me?" The anger slips away, concern now lacing your tone, "Just talk to me. I get it."

"No, you don't! Stop saying it!"

"Ok… Ok. I might not understand it, but I want to. I want to be there for you, to help. We can get through this, but you need to stop." Pleading with him never works, but you'll never stop trying.

"I will. I promise. I'll stop."

He didn't

NOW

You once heard that it takes half the time you were with someone to get over them.

It's been 8 months already. Yet you still felt his loss keenly. You had spent two wonderful years with Frankie. There were ups and downs. Mostly down in the end.

Leaving the army, going through PTSD, the drugs, and losing his license, a downward spiral that ended you both. Ended your relationship, but mostly ended him, the Frankie you knew.

At least he came back alive. Probably not whole, but alive. You knew that, when Will came to take his stuff, you had packed while he was away. You stood your ground and refused to see him. Still grieving the relationship. But mostly him. Your Frankie, the one you loved. Not the selfish, manipulative, angered man he had become because of the drugs. His departure had made you realize how bad it had gotten. Every interaction was like going into a battle, one that you were losing more and more. Not to him. No, he was losing too. He just didn't want to admit it. The winner was the white powder weaving itself into your lives.

The breakup, however brutal, was for the best, because it could have ended in a worse way. At least you could still cherished the first year. A year and a half is you stretched it.

You never saw him again. He respected your decision, you could at least give him that. He never came to the bar, nor did his friends.

But you thought about him every day. Every broad-shouldered man wearing a cap made your heart skip a beat. Leaving you relieved it wasn't him, but deep down, sad it wasn't.

Four more months to go. You didn't want to wait. You were tired. Nights spent dreaded to fall asleep, dreams full of him, holding you, kissing you, dreaming of the Frankie from the beginning. Only to wake up and remember. Every morning having to mourn him over again. Tired that the good times overcame the bad. Making you weak. Because you wouldn't go back. Shouldn't.

That first kiss during your break at work, the first shared breath ang tangled bodies in your bed, the first "I love you" in his car out of the blue, moving in together... It had to stop. He was your past.

You present is now, in this bar, sipping your drink, waiting for your date who is already 15 minutes late.

You were allowing him another 10 minutes, time to finish that drink, ready to leave. Stupid fucking men.

You should have left, you shouldn't have waited. Because in the next 5 minutes, you see him walk in. Followed by his friends. His brothers. All of your resolutions crumble to dust, your heart overflowing with feelings you can't name. It needs to get out. All of it. You want to rush to his arms but also run away, far away. Because he looks good. He's laughing, head thrown back, looking back at Benny. He looks clean. You can tell from here. Not his jittery self waiting for a line, nor his high self, focused, in another way. He's not looking all around like a threat might come out of nowhere. He looks relaxed. You feel jealous of whoever gets to enjoy him like this. Because this is the Frankie you haven't seen in so long. It reminded you of your beginning. And even then, there was always some tenseness. It hurts deeply.

But it hurts more when your gaze meet, his laughter dying, first in his eyes, then on his mouth. Sadness overcoming joy. Brown, sorry eyes, full of regret, as he stops walking, Benny bumping into him, looking at Frankie, then, following his gaze, on you, face morphing into shock, then concern for his friend. While Frankie stands still and looks at you. Time and sound constrict around you. Then, like a cold shower, it falls on you. The hurt, the last moment. The anger.

You get up, walk past them, out, and run.

You run down the street, down the block, far. Far away from Frankie and his sorrowful eyes. Frankie and his comforting arms. Frankie and his love, Frankie and his anger.

You'd like to think you ran far and fast, but you know you are barely a few blocks away, in the night, in a neighborhood you don't know, his voice calling your name.

"Stop! Please."

You do stop. Breathing hard as you wait, back to him.

"Please... Can we talk?"

"No." You want it to be final, yet you can't the quiver.

"Let me... Let me at least take you home. It isn't safe to walk the city streets alone."

"Like you care." Scoffing at his concern.

"I do care... I always will." You hate the hurt in his voice at your implication.

"Stop, Frankie." When will this ever end? Him begging, you asking him to stop?

"Please, let me just take you home, tonight. Give me just that."

You relent.

The drive is silent. You don't look at him, but you feel his gaze on you time to time. The only time you talk is to confirm that you do indeed still live in the same place. The one you once shared. And you sense it in his wince, the regret, the guilt. It sparks a flame inside you, one that lingered ever since he left. One that still eats you up. Anger, threatening to spill out.

When he stops the car in front of your once-shared garage, you sit. You should leave, get out, close the door on him, and never look back. But it's hard.

"Can... Can we talk?"

"What is there to say?"

"Please... I... want to explain. I'm better now. If you don't want to ever see me again, I'll respect that. But let me please just... I guess, have some sort of closure."

You snort and leave. It's too much, the anger is oozing out of every pore. Closure, the nerves of the guy. You hate him.

You're halfway to your door when you stop and turn around. Frankie is out of his car, looking at you, ready to run after you, but also hesitating.

"Well, if you want to talk, you might as well come in."

"Talk." You're standing in your living room, and Frankie has barely closed the front door. You see his eyes wandering around, looking at the changes since his departure. His eyes fall on the once shared bookshelf behind you, and the gaps left from where his books used to be. He takes a few steps closer to you but stops far enough that neither of you can touch, even stretching your arms. The gap is till there, wide.

"I... did therapy, still do, I've been sober for 6 months now–" You want to scream hearing this.

"Great! You're better, you went to therapy, you're clean. So you just had to leave me to get better, is that what you are saying?" It hurts too much to hear this. How dare he do better now, alone, after everything you went through, together?

"No, I got better for you." He takes a few steps, stops again when he sees you take one step backward. You need that gap to be large enough that it can't be crossed.

"That's not enough."

"I know... I know it's not. But I was hoping..." Another step forward. You don't move.

"What? What were you hoping? That I would run into your open arms? That I would forget everything after you hurt me, lied to me." The distance so vast as you both look into each other's eyes. His pleading, like always, yours... You don't know.

"No. I was hoping that maybe... I could try to make amends? Talk, maybe become friends, maybe..." He lets his head fall down, a slight deprecative laugh, "Maybe win you back."

The laugh you let out is ugly. "You thought wrong."

"Clearly." He comes closer, if you extend your arm, you'll be able to graze his chest. You don't move backward.

"Listen... I will leave you alone, I promise. But know that I mean it when I say I did this for you. When I left, you asked me to do it for the next one. But I never wanted someone else. It was always you, even when I didn't know you. It took me time to understand, time to figure it out as I was alone and scared in my darkness. I still had nightmares, and sleeping alone made it worse. I hate sleeping alone, sleeping without you. You were my life, you ARE my life, my breath. You kept me warm when my mind surrounded me with cold." When did he get so close? So close you feel his arms around you, gentle arms holding you as you cry. Sobbing at his words, the ones you didn't want to hear but desperately needed to.

His comforting arms, that you missed so much, holding you, while he whispers his regrets, his sorrow, over and over, calming you down.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I was never supposed to cry again because of you."

"I'm know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He's holding you tight, so tight, like he is soaking up all that he missed, all the months he lost, since he left physically, and even before, when he left mentally. He's breathing you in and holding you like his life depends on it. Your hands clutch his shirt, instead of pushing him away, you repeat, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." The meaning of the words is gone, you just repeat them, trying to convince yourself.

"I hate." As he holds your face and brushes your tears away with his thumbs, searching your eyes.

"I hate you." When he kisses you.

"I hate you." With more venom when you push him back, only to pull him back for a deeper kiss

"I miss you." When you start taking off his jacket, put your hands underneath his shirt, kissing his neck.

"I miss you, too." When he guides you to the couch, the same one where you watched a movie, made love, and fell asleep on.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, I missed you so much." When he lies you down.

"I missed you." When you are both almost naked, your legs opening for him. One check of his eye, asking, your shake of the head, and his, mirroring yours, saying "no one else" before he slides into you.

"I still love you." When he moves inside you, the pleasure of your body echoes the pain of your feelings, lingering hurt by his words and actions, tears down your eyes. But this moment starting the process of healing you both. His eyes never leaving yours pouring out his love, his trust, his regret, a promise for tomorrow.

"I love you." When he feels you come around him, tremors and cries leaving your body.

"I still love you, too." As you hold him tight when he comes inside you.

It's not enough. But it's a start.

LATER

"Fish if I have to move your stuff one more time I'm going to kill you, You better not fuck this up again."

"Believe me if he fucks it up you wont have any stuff to carry, i'll burn it all." You can't help the tease, you're both now in a comfortable spot, enough that you can joke about it.

"Even my books?" Sad puppy eyes pleading with you, but playfully now. Never in pain anymore.

"I'll keep them as payment for the hurt."

"I'll never hurt you again." Kissing your forehead, the playfulness gone, the promise real.

"Ugh, stop it, just carry your fucking books so that we can go grab that beer that was promised."

A/N : The break up scene at the beginning was inspired by this Lacoste ad. I always loved the parallel between the argument and the building falling apart around them.

Thank you for reading ❤️

tagglist, I also added people who seemed interested (please let me know if you want to be added/removed) : @grogusmum @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @mani-pedro @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy

[burntheedges]

From Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

[burntheedges]

writing ask meme <3

give short descriptions of all your current WIPs.

give short descriptions of all the main characters for [WIP].

what makes you love writing?

what does it take for you to be proud of something you’ve written?

what do you think is the most important part of writing?

are your projects driven more by character or plot?

what books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? why?

which of your own projects have shaped your writing the most? in what way?

what are you best and worst at when writing?

which patterns keep popping up in your projects/characters?

give three songs or images that fit [WIP].

give three songs or images that fit [character].

describe your writing style.

what is your speed when writing?

what do drafting and revision look like for you?

to what extent do you research for your writing?

how do you determine what mood each project has?

how do what you look for in your own writing vs someone else’s coincide? how does your writing influence your reading?

do you plan out your projects? if yes, to what level? how well do you stick to your plans?

where do you begin a WIP? ex: a mood, a scene, a certain character dynamic, etc. does this differ per project?

what are the most important facets of creating a character, to you?

how much of your own self/experiences do you believe pours into your projects? if this differs per project, which projects have the most and least of you?

what do you do to engage with your projects which isn’t actually writing? ex: playlists, pinterest boards, etc. how much do they play a role in the development of your work?

[burntheedges]

Your "#hope is a discipline" tag is helping soothe the hurt.

Thank you for that reminder. 💚

I'm so glad to hear that. It's a quote from Mariame Kaba and I think about it constantly!! Here are some quotes from her that drive me:

“I always tell people, for me, hope doesn’t preclude feeling sadness or frustration or anger or any other emotion that makes total sense. Hope isn’t an emotion, you know? Hope is not optimism… hope is a discipline and… we have to practice it every single day.” (from her appearance on the Beyond Prisons podcast)

“Everything worthwhile, is done with other people.” (from her interview with Eve Ewing)

In the conclusion of the book she co-authored with Kelly Hayes, Let this radicalize you, she shared a reiteration of one of her famous tweets:

“There are times when I feel overwhelmed about what to do, where to start. The problems seem so big and so intractable. In those times, I ask myself a set of questions that serve as guideposts and help to ground me: 1. What resources exist so I can better educate myself? 2. Who’s already doing work around this injustice? 3. Do I have the capacity to offer concrete support and help to them? 4. How can I be constructive? (532)

“There is always something that is worth doing. Find your lane and push ahead. Make connections with others. Refuse to acquiesce to despair. Imagine your way forward. There are many ways that things can be different in the world, and we don’t know how things will turn out, so we might as well fight like hell for the world we want to inhabit.” (536)

“Even if the end times are upon us, we should still plant trees. This is disciplined hope. This is hope in the doing, hope as action.” (from Let this radicalize you, 538)

[burntheedges]

Pedro just posted these to his Instagram. I’m holding the last sentence very close to me.

[burntheedges]

Healed Masterlist

"You saved his life. I'm asking you to help him keep it."

Joel Miller x Doctor Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: After Joel's suffering at the hands of Abby, he survives. You, a new resident of Jackson, are tasked with healing him, bringing him back to life in more ways than one. Warnings: alternating pov, injury, eventual smut, mutual pining, fluff, domesticity in the apocalypse, joel survives, medical jargon, blood, sponge baths Chapters will have individual warnings.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Convalescence Chapter 2 - Awake Chapter 3- Steps Chapter 4- Listen Chapter 5- Adjust Chapter 6- Ground Chapter 7- Care Chapter 8- Dance

Healed, The Video Edit Healed Playlist

—- Please follow @whocaresposted and turn on updates to be alerted when a new chapter drops!

[burntheedges]

Do you want to be politically pure in theory or help your neighbor. Is it fruitless to help your neighbor because there's no Perfect Pure way to do it ?

[burntheedges]

y’all look at this lake

[burntheedges]

call your reps, please

cried into my senator's voicemail today and I'm just saying if I can, you can too.

Seriously though if you want tips on how to call or a script I got you.

Tips:

Find your reps on house.gov and senate.gov. Save their DC and local numbers in your phone. I have them in mine as FirstNameLastname STATE Position, so STATE is the start of their 'last name' in my phone (ex. Joe Smith NY Senator). Which means I can quickly get to them, they're all in a row in my contacts, and I can call them when I'm motivated. I also save what committees they're on in the notes on the contact info.

Most reps' phones don't ring -- instead you get a menu, like when you call the cable company, and some of the options are leave a message or talk to a staffer. So if you are nervous about talking to a human, you don't have to! You can leave a message.

Write a script before you call. Here are some examples/guides: Indivisible, ACLU Hawaii (specific but also broadly helpful), Autistic Self Advocacy Network, tips from a staffer on IG. Always ask for a response! Here is a basic one:

Hi my name is NAME, I live in ZIP CODE. My phone number/email address is ###. I am calling about [insert topic here]. I am concerned/I care because [insert why]. I want (to urge the senator to vote X/to support the NAME OF ACT/to ask the senator speak out publicly about XYZ/to see the senator in the news talking about X/to know the senator's plans for Y). I would like a a call back/email with more info/etc. Thank you.

Find a time that works for you to call and make it a habit.

Today my call started with, "sorry if it sounds like I'm crying. I am. Anyway--" so, you know, you don't have to be perfect. I certainly am not.

[burntheedges]

thanks for always staying up to date and educated on things.

I know you don’t have to just because you have a known blog but you spread awareness not only of issues that effect you, like feminist issues, but I see you clearly talking about what effects everyone vulnerable

I don’t know how many of these things effect you but I know many don’t and you still fighting and refuse to be ashamed

They passed the bill, btw 🤢🤮 Now it's time to publicly shame those who voted for this and make sure they know their days are numbered. And it doesnt hurt to thank those who voted no if you have the energy, especially if they took any risk in doing so or stepped up and showed leadership.

The weakening of our legislative and judicial branches is very bad news for everyone, not just in the U.S. but globally, unfortunately. Congress's job is to represent and serve the people in their districts. Not the president, not corporations, not even their political party. The way these Republicans serve the corrupt President instead of the people is a big problem. He not only tells them what to do but even gives deadlines to suit his ego. They bend to his will every time, and a lot of them profit. They stand for NOTHING. These sickos chanted "USA" on the house floor after voting to strip basic needs from the very people they're supposed to represent.

But if you wanna feel encouraged, look at what happened June 14 - how many people showed up for No Kings Day vs. His pathetic toy soldier parade.

⭐️ And we all get stronger with each additional person who makes a habit of contacting congress and teaching others how easy it is.