drauthor

[drauthor]

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LMFAO

[drauthor]

not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.

[drauthor]

Trope Vote 2025

It's July! That means this years trope vote is now open for everyone to vote on their favourite tropes - including additions from your 2024 honourable mentions!

For the 2025 playlist, we are open to suggestions! So if you have a favourite whumpy song, feel free to let us know via the form.

The vote will be open until the 28th of July.

We aim to have the prompts list ready for the end of August.

If you want to chat about your favourite tropes, the [DISCORD SERVER] is always active for our wonderful community of whumpers.

Similarly, if you're looking for a comprehensive list of the tropes, then under the cut are links to the A-Z lists that Surro put together some time ago. We can't wait to get the WT ball rolling this year! -Mods Surro, Yenn, Vanne and Kitty <3

[Question Summary + Trope List Links under the cut]

TROPE LISTS:

[A-H]

[I-Q]

[R-Z]

QUESTIONS:

Question 1: 'Which tropes would you like to see for Whumptober 2024?' - Here, there is an A-Z list of tropes with checkboxes next to them. Simply choose your favourites!

Question 2: 'Honourable Mentions' - Here you can list any tropes we have forgotten.

Question 3: 'The Music Round' - If you have a song that you attribute to a trope/theme, let us know! This is entirely optional but we would love to hear the songs that put you in a whumping mood. Please format each one as SONG - ARTIST - TROPE

[drauthor]

dear diary it has been six hours since ao3 said they were going down for a “few hours” just to do some maintenance to fix a bookmarking issue. i have begun to eat the plaster molding in my house

[drauthor]

saw your post last week about your job i hope it went okay!

First off, thank you so much for checking in, that is genuinely so sweet of you and I appreciate it tremendously. Now, am I answering this three weeks late because I wanted to have an actual resolution for you?

Yes. Yes I am.

Am I also about to vent for several paragraphs, screaming incoherently into the void as the insane stress of the past few months searches desperately for an open valve?

Yeah, that too.

So. February 14, 2025. With no formal warning and only 24 hours of informal warning from other rank-and-file staff, myself and several thousand other probationary employees (meaning those with less than a year in their current position) were unceremoniously and illegally terminated. Termination notifications stated that our "subject matter knowledge, skills, and abilities do not meet the Department's current needs." This comes into play later, because this is patently false. Myself and many others had promotions to permanent status in the works before the federal hiring freeze condemned them to the void. These terminations did not involve any of our direct supervisors or anyone who had actual knowledge of the quality of our work.

These notifications were rolled out by region. Sitting at my computer, watching the texts roll in from friends at parks across the country, knowing mine was coming and not being able to do a damn thing about it...

Yeah. That was fucking miserable.

I get very lucky. My boss goes to bat hard for me and gets me a position with our partner organization; I am unemployed only for the weekend. A lot of national parks have these (most libraries and the like have them too). These partner organizations are often vital to the functioning of the park. As an example of what they can do- because they're non-governmental non-profits, they can assist in fundraising efforts and solicit donations that federal regulations bar parks (as federal entities) from participating in.

I am, again, tremendously lucky. Other probies have families to support. Other probies are left without paychecks entirely. We are supposed to have access to our benefits for a month after being terminated; many find their health insurance is now inactive. Other probies, after uprooting their whole lives to move to remote locations for their dream jobs, are suddenly left isolated and unmoored. Many have to move back home, closer to friends and family who can help support them.

And then March 13 rolls around, and two separate judges (US District Judge William Alsup of San Francisco and US District Judge James Bredar of Baltimore) order the Trump administration to reinstate all fired probationary employees by March 18. Fully reinstated, meaning they can't just put employees on paid admin leave and call them "reinstated."

I don't know how the other agencies handled this, but just for the DOI:

Going completely against the court orders, the DOI splits all probationary employees into two groups. Group A are mostly front-line probies, those involved in visitor services, maintenance, etc., and are to be reinstated immediately. Group B are mostly back-of-house- admin, resource management, and the like- to be placed on paid admin leave. I'm in cultural resource management, so I was placed in Group B. Also worth noting- all of those notifications about group designations and reinstatements? We got absolutely nothing in writing. All of this is conveyed by phone calls from our direct supervisors, who are as baffled and furious as the rest of us.

(If you had any faith left that "oh, they're doing this to save money!", let that put those to rest. Paid admin leave means you're paying people to do nothing. We all were chomping at the bit to GET BACK TO DOING OUR JOBS.)

So, of course, this sets off a ruckus. We are contacting the courts, we are contacting our union reps, we are contacting our congressional reps, those of us who live or work in one of the 19 states that filed the lawsuits are contacting our attorney generals. We care about the work we do. We are not content with paid admin leave.

And the ruckus works. The next day, we receive notice that the group designations are no longer valid. Everyone is being reinstated, effective immediately.

Great.

Until the Supreme Court strikes this down on a legal technicality, saying that the states and the union do not have "standing" to sue. Importantly, they're not ruling on the legality of the firings themselves; that question is still making its way through the courts.

The Department of Commerce, which includes agencies like the U.S. Census Bureau and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, immediately re-fires all their probationary employees. This is because DOC leadership is full of a bunch of stupid cunts.

DOI leadership does one thing right and decides not to re-fire their probies until the legality of doing so is decided. This is good, because it gives more time for current probationary employees to make it to a year of service, thereby taking them off probationary status. This is also what happens to me- three days after the SC ruling comes down, I make it off probationary status and breathe a (very tentative) sigh of relief.

Now I am faced with a different problem.

There are a few different categories of employment. You can be permanent, which is exactly what it sounds like. You can be seasonal, which is also exactly what it sounds like. Or you can be term. Term employees function on an annual renewal; positions can be renewed for up to four years. Normally, while the renewals themselves are only processed the week before your term is up (for some godforsaken reason), you'll usually know whether or not you're getting renewed a few months beforehand because your supervisor will tell you whether or not they've filed the paperwork to extend your term. This is generally fine, because having the advance notice lets you prepare and search for new jobs. HR basically rubber-stamps your supervisor's decision.

However, in this new hellscape, whether or not you get renewed is no longer up to your supervisor. It's up to the Office of Personnel Management, led by the guy who said he wanted to "traumatize" federal employees. Also, I cannot stress enough-

THE GOAL OF THIS ADMINISTRATION IS TO GUT THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT.

So. You know. We're all having a great time.

There is no uniformity and no guidance. Some terms are getting renewed. Some are not. These are scattered across regions and divisions and offices; there is no pattern to be found. This is becoming the depressing norm.

Again, my boss goes to bat for me. He tells me he filed the paperwork for my renewal the moment he found out I was getting reinstated. He is arguing that in order to meet the new order to "prioritize keeping parks open" (I'm not even fucking touching that right now), he needs to be allowed to keep his staff so he can reassign them if necessary. He is giving me multiple long-term projects to work on. He says he is optimistic, even though he doesn't look it.

I am not.

I am back-of-house, meaning that I do not directly impact the visitor experience the same way a staff shortage of front-line rangers would. I work in cultural resource management, which this administration is aiming to demolish. I spend the next few weeks tidying things up as much as I can for my successor, trying to process the grief of losing a fantastic job, doing very bleak math with my meager savings to figure out how far I can stretch them (the answer: not very), and applying for other positions. I try to take some sick time and fail because I actually really love my job.

This would all be so much easier if I hated my job.

Fast-forward to today. It's the last day of my term. I resigned myself last week to not being renewed. I still have not heard anything, not even about a termination notice- non-renewal of the term still requires paperwork actions. I am plodding along and trying to prioritize the most enjoyable parts of my job.

Then, with less than six hours of my term left, I find out that my term has been extended.

I have so much work to do.

I can't wait.

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

Happy Star Wars Day from me and the best ever doggo at the pet expo we attended this afternoon!!

[drauthor]

1. for codys pov of the melidaan trio reunion? idk everytime i reread i get a kick out of imagining his version of that very sweet phone call with mel and then nield and cerasi fucking knocking obi wan over with that hug

Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

okay I'm so irritated because I started writing this out and then the page refreshed and I lost a good half of the scene but you know what? we're going to try again!

(also cheers for the best prompt because i would've needed to write this eventually for llch so this was AWESOME, thanks so much for this-)

(also also i promise there will be a second half going up that is the actual hug, but you know me, what is a prompt if not an invitation to go hogwild, etc., and also i just really liked this ending line, okay?)

Cody worries.

To be fair, he’s good at that. He’s been worrying for most of his life, about brothers and battles and all the small intricacies that accompany being second-in-command of, functionally, most of the GAR. He forces it into planning and practice until it eases enough to let him grab a few hours of sleep, but it never really– leaves.

And now he’s got something else to worry about.

Oh, don’t get him wrong– he’s worried about Obi-Wan for a while now. But this–

This is new.

He doesn’t come down to the barracks on his own, despite Cody’s hopes after the first night. And they keep finding him in… odd places.

Watching the blurring stars on the observation deck, his comm unit methodically disassembled in front of him. In the rafters of the cargo bay, datapads stacked perilously next to him on a folded crane. In the laundry room, the sound of his pacing muffled under the thunk-thunk-thunk of the enormous machines.

He comes with them, when they ask. But the bags under his eyes grow darker, and his voice grows quieter, and Cody worries and worries and worries.

(There is not a lot of information about Melidaan in their briefing.)

He thinks:

They were his first command.

He thinks:

How long did they think he was dead?

He thinks: 

If it were me–

He thinks:

I’d have no room for rage.

He thinks:

If I thought he was dead–

He thinks:

To be proven wrong--

He thinks:

What wins out, the nat-born or the soldier?

He thinks, but he does not know, so he holds onto Obi-Wan as his breathing evens out and keeps his mouth shut.

A series of moments, in the last few hours:

Standing together on the bridge, shoulders brushing together.

The set of Obi-Wan’s jaw.

The sudden shock of Stats’ voice, announcing their approach.

Obi-Wan’s hand, pressed against the tempered glass.

The fog of his breath when he leans forward, watching.

The light–

Turning towards the window.

The light. 

Obi-Wan’s voice. Quiet, disbelieving.

Oh, he says. All the lights are on.

The stretch of them. The expanse.

(The blooming, awful hope.)

"Sir," Cody says quietly, unwilling to disturb the silent bridge. "We should-"

"Yes," Obi-Wan agrees. His hands vanish into the sleeves of his cloak, and Cody's own itch. "We should."

Cody opens the comm line when Obi-Wan doesn't move. Leans forward when Obi-Wan doesn't move. Declares himself when the line crackles, watches Obi-Wan twitch at the voice announcing Central Control, introduces himself, confirms their ship's ID, and then--

"Requesting identification of the highest-ranking officer on board."

It translates perfectly well.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. Leans forward.

"Ben Kenobi," he says. He glances up, meets Cody's questioning gaze, quirks a smile- "Reporting for duty."

Her excitement peels away the years.

She sounds so-

Young.

Stats takes over briefly. Coordinates. The landing dock.

Cody tunes him out and watches Obi-Wan instead, feeling faintly ill.

"It's good to hear your voice, Mel," Obi- General Kenobi says at last. "I've- missed you. Very much."

"And yours, Ben," says Mel, and that's a new name too, one Cody doesn't recognize- "We missed you."

Ben.

"Sir," Cody says cautiously. The bridge is silent, all eyes on them, Waxer's wide-eyed expression mirroring his own nausea. "Were we-- your name--?"

Have they been naming him incorrectly? All this time, have they been doing him wrong? His file had said Obi-Wan, everyone had said Obi-Wan, but they of all people know files aren't the half of it-- had they asked? Actually asked his name? He'd said to call him Obi-Wan, but he's always prioritized them, their comfort, he might not have-

(Their names are all they have.)

"Oh," General Kenobi says. He laughs, a little half-hearted thing, and Cody's chest seizes. "Oh, no, I- Mel, she- she couldn't pronounce my name, when I arrived. It was either Ben or Bibi, and I just- kept it. Obi-Wan is more than fine. I haven't been Ben in a very long time. It's their name more than mine, really."

And yet he'd chosen it, when they'd asked for ID.

Cody doesn't stare. Not noticeably, at least. He turns his gaze towards the glass, ducks his head towards Obi-Wan and mutters something along the lines of nice to know we have one friend down there, at least, something that gets another snort, and considers the weight of this newest discovery.

If anyone could shoulder two names like that, he supposes, it would be their general.

(Obi-Wan suits him better, anyways.)

The gunship is packed with most of Ghost's officer corps, all of them eager and wary in equal measure-- even the barest whisper of Separatist sentiment is enough to put them all on edge, because even a whisper making its way to someone in authority indicates a seething mass under their feet that had gone unheard, but it's not quite enough to quell the rustling excitement. Cody suspects Obi-Wan can tell, because his lips twitch upwards as soon as they step onboard, but he doesn't say a word.

Instead, he takes up his position by the portal and presses a hand to the glass.

The portal isn't very big.

Cody rests a hand on his shoulder, and watches him instead.

[drauthor]

Snorting that vintage yaoi cocaine straight from the 60s (Watching TOS)

[drauthor]

[drauthor]

my new favorite hobby is looking at fucked up easter lamb cakes.

[drauthor]

I think I speak for a lot of people when I say this:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[drauthor]

On the Vulcan term “Kaiidth”

Or, “If I see one more person translate ‘Kaiidth’ with ‘Que sera sera’ I’m going to start screaming”

Let me preface this by saying that I am emotionally invested in this. Kaiidth has pulled me out of some pretty dark places in my life, and whenever I see it equated to “Que sera sera” it makes me want to punch something. Because to me, the two sayings have nothing at all to do with each other. This is also going to be long, so you may want to buckle up tight.

My thesis: when you translate the term Kaiidth using “Que sera sera”, you may be encouraged to think that it’s a defeatist term and that it implies that you should accept whatever happens without having feelings about it. Some people also say it means “you shouldn’t work for your future because whatever is meant to happen will happen”. And while I agree that all this could be applied to our human saying, it is not at all what Kaiidth means, even though at first glance, it may appear so.

Let’s look at the original translation. Kaiidth: what is, is.

In the KirShara page on Kaiidth, the saying is compared to the words of Lao-tzu in the 76th verse of the Tao Te Ching: “An army that cannot yield will be defeated. A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind.”

Kaiidth is a very complex word, you see, but at its basis, Kaiidth is acceptance. The beauty of it is that it can be applied to multiple situations, from the smallest to the biggest. The most used example to explain it is the mistake in artistic creation, as Surak’s discussion of Kaiidth shows:

Artists and composers easily grasp the concept of kaiidth. They use it in their creations without conscious thought. Even the best painters experience accidents. Paint is spilled. Water is splashed. Eager fingers leave stains. Some artists weep, believe their work is ruined. But the true artist fits the paint-drip, watermark, or stain into the picture.

This is kaiidth.

“Well,” you might say, “isn’t that the exact definition of ‘you should accept whatever happens without having feelings about it’?”. But really… you expect Vulcans to talk about emotional control in public? Please.

In this infinite rant, I am going to apply Kaiidth to emotional acceptance, which is something Vulcans are not comfortable talking about out loud but is definitely part of the Kaiidth philosophy.  It is doubly important for Vulcans, I may add, because it is a tool of emotional control, which is something fundamental for a telepathic species with very strong feelings. This acceptance works at multiple levels and it only truly works if you let it meet you where you are.

Keep reading

[drauthor]

ok so these new tariffs are likely going to be primarily affecting red states. i want y’all to ignore the urge to respond by saying the people in those red states deserve it because of the political representation we have. not because some of us are progressives but because this is an opportunity. if conservatives from these states start complaining about higher prices and financial strain, do not respond with “well you voted for this!” this is your opportunity to pull them to the center. say “wow that is really awful. i’m sure this isn’t what you wanted when you voted last year. you deserve representatives that will have your best interests at heart, you should let them know how upset you are! you deserve to be heard!”

because listen to me. republican politicians don’t give a shit about what progressives in red states have to say. they aren’t gonna change their voting trends for us. but if a bunch of small town conservatives start to get restless and angry with their politicians, if they lose support from their most important demographics, that has a shot at changing things. so swallow your pride and disgust and have a conversation with that republican truck driver instead of taking the pot shot that’ll get you 10 minutes of dopamine. do the hard work.

[drauthor]

tw: death

Have you had any visitors lately? ❣️

[drauthor]

head empty, no thoughts...

design by: gigi <3

#epicthemusical #tiresias #imgonnaeathim