#[ where even are they like wal mart

[king-guinevere]

important note for homemade buttermilk: don’t just add those two separately, mix the acid into the milk and let it sit for ~5 mins. gives it a little bit of time to let the acid do the thing to milk that MAKES it buttermilk. ferments it or whatever.

[batboyblog]

I keep seeing the take of "vote blue no matter who is fascism/leads to fascism" literal days before the election and people going on tirades about how we're licking their boots while they kick our teeth in and I'm just so fucking tired. I just. Am so tired. I also saw someone explicitly mention "they could eviscerate a baby on the stage and you'd still vote for them" and that just SEEMS anti-Semitic. I sincerely hate this so much. I see people also claiming that "withholding your vote is the only political power you have" and I want to scream.

And I'm straight up seeing people say "Oh so republicans will be so much worse? Then we die together" and holy fucking shit these people are awful, straight up the most selfish motherfuckers I've ever seen in my life. They really are just hoping for a "revolution" so they can cosplay as the anarchists they've always wanted to for a few brief moments before they get jailed/straight-up killed. They don't care about the millions, billions of people who's lives are about to get so much worse thanks to this.

I'm sorry for doing such a rant but oh my god. Why are people like this.

where's that tweet about firebombing Wal-Mart and then not?

maybe the greatest tweet of all time.

any ways, I was just out and about in the real world knocking on doors and yeah I was knocking easy turf (every other house was a Democrat pride float of signs and banners) but I can tell you these internet edge lords aren't real, I mean in some cases literally not real being fake people meant to demotivate voters. But even those who are real Americans who really feel that way, they're such a tiny unimportant minority that they're not really real and spoiler most people like that are NEVER voters, they don't vote, ever so like "I'm not gonna vote" you didn't before so you don't really factor in, its like children, how they feel doesn't matter because they can't vote.

The real feeling out there is good, you know, I'm tired, and I'm going out again tomorrow, thats what its really about, they bitch about Democrats and shit but we're out talking to people, organizing, mobilizing, and voting, they want a Revolution, well then here it is you can turn the world if you do the work.

people saying they won't vote for a better world is stupid, and its childish, I think of all the fights we've fought, all the little wins that build up to national victories, we have a chance to keep going forward, to break down more barriers, to right more wrongs to make the American Dream available to more people who never before had a shot, we can be a more perfect union, and we can do great things together. Or we can allow the gift we have been given, guarded by generations in blood and pain in the fields of Gettysburg, Beaches of Normandy, in the dirt of Philadelphia, Mississippi, and in the street in front of the Stonewall Inn to be take away from us, to allow a Government for, by and of the people to vanish from the Earth. Thats the choice, the rest is noise.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sir, this is a wendy's

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'modern au' rated t wc: 765 tags: established relationship, proposal, kinda silly

-----------------------------------------------

"They're out of the cookies, sweetheart," Eddie turned to Steve as he came back from the restroom of the Wendy's.

They were still nearly six hours from home and exhausted, a little bit grumpy if Steve's silence for the last hour was anything to go by.

"I'll have a Frosty then."

"Machine's down."

Steve blinked at him before sighing.

"I guess nothing then, right? Just the burger and fries."

Eddie sighed, too.

The visit with Robin hadn't gone...well. She'd told them she was taking a year to study abroad and part of the program meant she could only come home for one week during their summer break. Steve wasn't taking it well that she'd go from being an eight hour drive away to an eight hour flight away.

He was being patient.

He knew Steve hated change like this, and he'd only been sitting with it for about 12 hours.

Eddie turned back to the cashier with a smile.

"Two number two's, one with no onions and one with no tomatoes please."

Steve was standing next to him, staring down at his phone. When Eddie looked over, he had a tab open showing the program details of Robin's study abroad track.

While they waited for their food, Eddie watched Steve biting his lip, then his thumbnail, and then his lip again.

"Stevie, what's goin' on in your head?" Eddie finally asked.

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at the floor.

"Nothin'."

"It's clearly somethin'. You worried about Robin?"

"Obviously," Steve huffed.

"Love, she's-"

"Steve Munson!"

Both of them whipped their heads back to the counter, where a woman was pushing a tray of food towards them.

Steve's wide eyes looked back at Eddie, cheeks a bright red.

Eddie walked up to grab their food, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually being Steve Munson.

It's not that he hadn't thought about it before; He had thought about it most days for the last year.

There was a ring in his drawer at their apartment to prove it.

"Table?" Eddie choked out, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

They were quiet as they sat down, taking their food off the tray and looking at it. Not eating, not even touching it anymore, just looking.

"Um."

"So."

They looked at each other, then back down at their food.

"Steve Munson sounds kinda nice," Eddie said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Steve was picking at the wrapper around his burger now.

"I mean, I've thought so for a while."

"You have?"

Eddie was really about to propose in this Wendy's.

Without a ring or a real speech.

Just himself and a few old people in the corner eating chili.

"I'm gonna do this for real somewhere that isn't a Wendy's on an exit in some shitty town that has two gas stations and a Wal-Mart, but for now." He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take Steve's hand. "I dunno why they called that name, but maybe it's a sign. I love you. I know right now you're having a lot of thoughts, and you don't have to answer me. I'm not even on one knee, but really this is a Wendy's and my knee's been hurting for the entire ride. I love you. I said that already."

Steve giggled and Eddie couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I love you. I'll say it as much as you want, as long as it makes that smile happen. I'll say it when you're sad and grumpy, when you're happy and silly, when you're tired, when you're hyper. If it's okay with you, I'll scream it right here."

"In the Wendy's?"

"Yes, in the Wendy's."

Steve just nodded.

"Attention everyone! This man right here? I love him!" Eddie was saying loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around them. "And I'm asking him right now, to be my husband!"

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," an old lady sitting in the booth across from them said.

Eddie and Steve immediately started laughing.

"Well, is he sayin' yes so you'll shut up or what?" An old man said from the other end of the lobby.

Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll marry you," Steve said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A couple people clapped, but for the most part, everyone went back to ignoring them.

Eddie kissed Steve softly, chastely.

"Was this a distraction from the Robin thing?" Steve asked.

"Not intentionally. Worked though."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"You better make the real proposal a spectacle."

"Anything for you, my love."

[lizardsfromspace]

A key piece of the Jones puzzle is that, once upon a time, being a burnt out conspiracy weirdo was a significantly more bipartisan pastime. The right-wing conspiracy weirdos were way more dangerous - they made up the entirety of the militia movement in the 90s - and the more political, as they focused on fears of government takeovers, but it was once extremely common to find someone on the left - or who wasn't political at all - who couldn't stop talking about how UFOs were real and one was the Grassy Knoll.

This is exemplified by Behold a Pale Horse, a big tent conspiracy book that was meant for militia types, but also had chapters on UFOs, and also had chapters about how AIDS was bio-engineered to wipe out African-Americans, which garnered it an audience broad enough to include white supremacists and black nationalists and general UFO kooks, but also one of the chapters was literally just the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. People picked and chose what was relevant to them and ignored the rest

The last gasp of this was 9/11 trutherism, which is often inaccurately reported as primarily or exclusively left-wing, but there were a lot of left-wing believers, and it was the last conspiracy theory of its kind to gain currency on the left. One reason the protest art of the Bush years was so often, uh, bad was that too much of it flirted with trutherism, like, not directly but in a "we should ask Questions" way. If I had a nickle for every prominent political rap song of the era that paused for a verse about how Bush brought down the towers, I'd have two nickles etc. The first and only time I listened to Air America was some show where someone said we had to hear truthers out and. No.

But that was the era conspiracy theories not only gravitated towards the right, but also became far more current. People stopped talking about UFOs (even the UAP stories couldn't get people talking about them again) and they stopped talking about ancient events like JFK and MLK, once Obama was elected it was all about how he was going to throw all Christians into prisons inside Wal-Marts next Tuesday (a real thing they believed for a hot minute, it was called Jade Helm). We paved the burnt out stoner cousins talking about UFO abductions and put up a Joe Rogan. What a loss...?

[lowkeyrobin]

i saw that you wanted mcyt ideas so im here to deliver!! maybe something christmas-y? i know its not even thanksgiving yet but im feeling so holly jolly. maybe like how they spend christmas with you? (about anybody, but def tom and ran please !)

oooo okay okay!! ; and dw I've been in a Christmas mood ever since I had to set up a wishlist and get people gifts LMAOOO ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!!! ; also since some are British I tried to incorporate British traditions ; also sorry if this gets posted like.. on Christmas, I probably decided to save it because i didn't get any other christmasy reqs lol ;

MCYT ; happy holidays

includes ; tommyinnit, badlinu, ranboo, quackity & slimecicle

warnings ; language, mentions of drinking

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

bro takes Christmas very seriously

you do all sorts of shopping and activities together

Christmas just reminds him of his younger, innocent self before the internet and the pressures of the online world

it's just a joyful time where he feels like he's right where he belongs, in a cheesey hallmark movie

you decorate the tree together and window shop once the sun sets

your tree is one of the green ones with the off white / yellowish lights, and your theme is usually red / white / silver

but there's complete creative freedom around the house, you're just not buying new tree decor when what you have is totally fine

on Christmas you invite your friends and family over and get in a big circle for Christmas crackers :))

and don't worry, he did cover your home in colorful Christmas lights lol

also matching ugly sweaters cause why not

if you crochet, you made one for him yourself with some... vulgarities

baking up sweet treats with recipes from pinterest is the best part

FREDDIE BADLINU

his favorite part is the gift giving and repetitive movies for sure

the entire holiday season, you're chilling on the couch watching cheesey hallmark movies and watching the grinch on repeat

and dont get me started on Christmas specials of your favorite series

you definitely make your own decor together because why not

your tree is one of those white ones and you don't really have a theme, just colorful ornaments with some sentimental ones on it too

you wrap presents together while listening to music (mostly Christmas pop, Sabrina's fruitcake ep, Tyler's inspo by the grinch ep)

you're the cool aunt/uncle/parents siblings duo istfg

trust if you have any siblings with kids, they yearn to see you on Christmas

^his sister yearns for Christmas at your place too, trust 🙏

you 100% do one of those animal fundraisers for Christmas and get the shelter new toys, food, blankets, and little sweaters 🫶💔

RANBOO

you don't celebrate Christmas, you celebrate ✨️ Christmas ✨️

cunty Christmas guys 🙏🙏 lock in

but you go all out for the season

green Christmas tree, rainbow lights, rainbow decor and silver accents

it's actually so pretty

festive music is always playing, paired with one of those dim screen savers with the crackling fireplace on the TV

you're the vintage spirit of Christmas except you're not stuck to a theme

a family of four in the 70s except gay and no kids

trust Sabrina's fruitcake ep is on REPEAT

ugly sweaters are a must

and that tree is stacked with presents (especially since a lot of your friends are celebrating with you)

you definitely make cookies together and go shopping for the kids & animals at those Wal-Mart giving tree thingies (idk what they're called im sorry)

but giving those kids and animals the Christmas they deserve just makes you so happy

ALEX QUACKITY

if you aren't familiar with Mexican Christmas culture, you definitely are now

and if you are Mexican and celebrate the same way he does, that's perfect!!

for one, he made Ensalada Nochebuena (a fruit salad of sorts) and Rompope (Mexican style eggnog) for you to try. even if you didn't like the food, he'd appreciate you wanting to connect with his culture

you have a very elegant tree, green; soaked in lights and colorful decor, mostly reds, blues, greens and yellows

he also shows you a lot of just random traditions and pictures from his childhood surrounding Christmas, it's really cool

he was talking about how he never got candy from the star piñatas during the holidays, so you decided to paper mache him up a star piñata

he was very thankful for it, and you spent the rest of Christmas Eve night munching on chocolate

your gifts for each other are genuinley so perfect

and you invite some friends over for drinks and dumb activities, and playing with new little toys together 😼

peak holidays

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

yall have the typical green tree and neutral colored ornaments and some sentimental ones

you don't heavily decorate because it's not really the point to you two

you'd rather have stupid funny decorations chilling around the house at random then be annoyed with putting it up and putting it away if that makes sense

like the living room will have the addition of the tree and look basically how it does all year, nd then you remember the horrifying clay sculpture of Charlie that sits beside the television

you go black Friday shopping, the types to wake up at 4am and crash and burn at 1pm

you aren't even freaks for deals, it just locks in the holiday feeling

and then on Christmas eve you're both panic wrapping gifts because you put it off too long

and then you wake up at 8 the next morning and realize people are coming over in like an hour so you scramble around the house throwing food together

and when you go to turn on some Christmas music it's fucking Christmas Don't Be Late by Alivin & The Chipmunks

you just let it play, it's a good song

chaotic neutral christmas

[suzukiblu]

So, I was rereading Jason Goes Home and a thought struck me. Not a fic specific thought, a general omegaverse thought. Specifically for versions with Nesting as a focus (and may be inspired by me upgrading my bed situation).

Do you think that in a world where Nesting is common, there would be Nesting Pillows that are for structure? Like body-pillows or the back support with little arm pillows? I think there would also be seperate pillows designed to take scent better.

Like... IRL a squishmallow nest is fun but not very structurally supportive. Using blankets to be exactly the right shape to counter the shitty couch you're sleeping on ends up a bit hard.

Anyway, what Items are in a Nesting Boutique? Which ones can you find at Wal-Mart? Feel free to tag in anyone you think would have fun designing Omega Pillows.

oh, I definitely do think specific nesting pillows/blankets/curtains/general materials would be a thing, hah, whether structurally or materials-wise or just in terms of "I have decided These Ones(tm) are for nesting". I also think nesting pillows would be, like, a normal project to make in Home Ec in high school or in crafting classes and the like or just in your general hobbywork. Just WILD amounts of "free nesting pillow patterns" online or circling around local crochet/knitting/sewing groups and getting passed down from packmate to packmate or parent to child or things like that, and probably they'd run the gamut from squishmallow to sofa cushion to yoga block, depending on the omega's taste and also for use in different layers/supports of said nest.

Specifically in "Jason goes home" I had Jason's structural nesting habits be inspired by Catherine's because I think a lot of kids would naturally want to emulate their pack omega/omega parent's style of nesting, because that's what they grew up used to and so that's what feels most instinctively comfortable to them, and probably they'd make or seek out similar materials to those or even maybe inherit some of them FROM that pack omega/omega parent, depending. And alternately obviously, an abused or abandoned or orphaned kid might want to seek out DIFFERENT styles of nesting, or have issues about not having been TAUGHT a style of nesting.

( lbr probably somewhere in that AU, the first time Kon wanted to nest he had NO clue what he was doing, because I doubt Cadmus mentioned anything actually helpful beyond "omegas do it" and otherwise he just had, like, media examples and no EXPERIENCE of them. and probably Tim didn't get to be in a nest very often growing up, and Cass DEFINITELY never did, Bart would have zero experience with them whatsoever, and Cassie might find nests smothering because her mom was overbearing, and Cissie probably just DESPISES them because of HER mom's particular version of "overbearing", and Dick's probably used to small and quickly-assembled/quickly-broken-down impermanent ones, and and and--and I could go on for a minute, hah! )

[autumnsvoice87]

Spoonie Sabath- Mabon

Mabon is here! The fall Equinox is here! Fall has officially begun and spooky season is already in full swing! This is my favorite time of the year. So for those that are new, Mabon is a celtic pagan holiday on the wheel of the year. When it was first introduced to me, I was told it was like a witches Thanksgiving.

It is the second harvest festival where they celebrate the good fortunes they have had this growing season. They give thanks to the Gods who are in charge of harvests and firtility, For without firtility, there couldn't be a harvest of crops! Mabon is the pagan holiday that rests on the Autumn Equinox.

Some witches take out the pagan part of Maybon and just celebrate the balance of light and dark on the equinox as well as just the harvest aspect. The spring and fall equinox is when the day light is equal to night time. It is often a symbol of balance so a witch may focus on balancing their energy, their body, their life etc. So today is another Spoonie list of celebrating this witch's holiday.

Coloring. Coloring can be a great way to balance stress out. There are many coloring sheets out there for fall. Some are kids coloring pages, and some are adult coloring. Whatever one you prefer is just fine. If you have problems with hand jerks or trembles, the kids' coloring sheets would be easier. It's also a great activity to do with kids if you have children or are babysitting for others. Some coloring pages you can get by downloading and printing off the internet. For a designated witchcraft one, they have some on Amazon. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/844987948812638690/

Light a candle. You can light an orange or red candle for Mabon instead of doing a full bonfire. Bonus points if it smells like apples, or pumpkin spice! If you can tolerate scented candles (not everyone can) they are readily available at the Dollar Tree or at Dollar general. There are many instances where people are not able to do bonfire's anyway but it is a favorite pasttime for celebrating the Equinox.

Fall foods. Many of us spoonies are probably not able to engage in baking and cooking up a great feast. Here are some cheats to consider. At wal-mart, they have mini pies for 75 cents (in my area anyway). You can get a Mini Pie for yourself or each of your family members. They are already baked and ready to go. You could warm them up in the microwave if you want to warm them up. Another idea is to get freash baked bread from the bakery. It's already baked good to eat. Pumpkin spice oatmeal for breakfast! or Apple Cinniamon is another oatmeal I love. For a meal for your family, a crock pot meal like chili is a must-have. Chili is easy to make. Just dump a bunch of canned beans, choice of meat and vegetables, and seasoning in a crock pot. There are many crock pot meal recipies out there to choose from. Baked potatoes are a good one, too. You can put them in the oven and you won't have to stand for very long.

Going outside. Going outside to enjoy the weather is good idea if weather permits. You can use a picker upper grabber to pick up leaves, acorns and pinecones to decorate your altars or your shelves. If you are a pagan parent, this a fun activity for kids too. A scavenger hunt is fun and you can do it on your own or with family. Use your mobility devices if you have them. Electric scooters and wheelchairs are aweseome for this if you have them. If you are not able to go outside, maybe have a family member go out and bring the scavenger hunt inside. Have them hide things they found in nature so you can try and find them. I know this isn't doable for everyone but even just sitting outside and watching the squirrels is good enough.

Cleansing your home. Cleansing your space of negative energies is a way to get rid of that no longer serves you. Many witches cleanse once a month anyway, but sometimes those of us with limited spoons can't always cleanse as often as we like. It also depends on the method of cleansing. Opening windows and smoke cleansing is what is most preferred and most taught method. Depending on our living situations, it's not always ideal. Some ideas to cleanse with minimal energy are to use sound cleansing music on youtube. There are several videos out there for sound cleansing. You can even use your own tools such as rattles, Bells, or drums if you have them. Another cleansing method is to use a spray. You can make your own using water and essential oils or using plain salt water works. It is something that is easy, and all you have to do is spray the room!

Stones. If you have a cage necklace, putting a gemstone associated with Mabon in it is a great way to celebrate. This is a great option if you don't have any energy to do anything else. Saphire, Yellow and Red Agates, Amethyst, Lapis Luzille, and Cornealian are the gemstones associated with Mabon. Right now, I am wearing Amethyst.

Donating to charities. Part of Mabon is giving thanks for the abundance we have in life. You could make a one-time donation to a charity of choice. Giving thanks for our abundance are in congruent with giving to people in need. Many of us Spoonies are probably on fixed incomes and may not be able to donate money. This is fine. Giving back to someone in need is the goal here. If you have any clothes collecting dust, you can donate to nursing homes, homeless shelters, and womens shelters. If you crochet or knit, you could make hats, scarves, and mittens for donations as well. Maybe a witchy friend needs some help with research.

Decorating. Mabon is a great time to do some decorating for fall and for spooky season. For us (spoonies), it can seem daunting and out of reach to do a whole house of fall decor. So let's pick one spot and decorate to the best of our ability. I have a general altar by my bedside on my nightstand. It can also be one spot in a book shelf, or even just one ornament. The goal is to decorate on a smaller scale so it is not so overwhelming. Also, it is okay to ask for help. If you have a PCA or friend/family member who can help you, it would be ideal. You may be able to cover more ground that way if you can get help with this activity.

Journaling. Journaling may end up in every article I write. So what do you journal about during Mabon? Start a gratitude journal, or write in the one you already have if you have one. Also, you can journal your goals and intentions for the upcoming year. This you can do laying down or sitting. Journaling helps us to see what we did accomplish and what we didn't . You may journal about new steps, new ideas, and anything that may help you accomplish your goals and intentions this year. Another option to journal about is journaling thoughts and ideas that no longer serve you. Journal about those negative thoughts about yourself or others and release the negativity to re-energize yourself.

Reading and doing research on Mabon or other fall celebrations around this time of year. There is so much to learn about this history of ancient pagans and their lore. Read some stories such as persephone's abduction and descent back into the underworld. Mabon is actually relatively new and based on Gerald Gardner's Wicca. Wicca is a neo-pagan religion that uses witchcraft. History is important to learning about making your own practice yours. https://www.reddit.com/r/witchcraft/comments/1flpdd7/happy_mabon/ This is just an overview.

Meditate. Meditation can be done laying down or sitting up. Whichever method you may prefer. Meditation on balance can be done in any way you can. Youtube has tons of meditation videos you can do to balance your energy. Youtube also has Mabon music and meditation videos, specifically for Mabon.

Celebrate Late. If you are not able to celebrate on the 20 or 21st and still want to, celebrate on a different day. In my opinion, you can celebrate anytime from the 18th-24th. Some older festivals lasted for days anyway.

If you don't have the energy, celebrate it when you are able to. Don't push yourself just because you feel you have to. If you miss this holiday, dont worry about it! You're still a pagan witch! Ancient pagans relied on the lunar calendar, and it is likely that the second fall harvest didn't land on the equinox.

[hms-no-fun]

Oh yeah the big pickups to work in an office job infuriate me to no end. A whole parking lot full of death machines that have never known the touch of a gravel road or hauled anything larger than a big Costco run. I have a nice lil electric hatchback tho.

the thing is, i always wanted a car. my parents took me on a lot of road trips when i was growing up (i remember a couple years before he died, my dad told me he was very proud to have shown me so much of the country when he himself had grown up poor and could only travel as far as the next job took him), so of course i have in me that quintessential American longing for The Road. in high school, i fantasized about getting into a car and disappearing into traffic, traveling to some distant corner where nobody lived and finding a situation to occupy. god help me, as a teen i bemoaned being born too late and longed for the naive vision of the 60s i'd received from my parents and pop culture and the rusted-over kitsch that dotted the remains of Route 66 (which my dad loved to talk about).

i hate car culture in part because i used to love car culture. it's a microcosm of indoctrinated American patriotism in general. they sell you on the dream, right? the freedom of travel, of expression. i wanted to be the millennial Jack Kerouac, whose work i did not actually read because i was young and dumb and drowning in dysphoria. but as i got older i saw how quickly little bumps and scratches can turn into massive financial burdens, to say nothing of cracked windshields or flat tires. then my mom died and i was given the responsibility of handling her car, a silver scion xb. i was 19, i did not have a license and had next to zero experience driving, nor had i ever had a job before. when i say "given the responsibility to handle her car" instead of "given her car," i mean that i didn't just get her car. like, i had it, i had the keys and no one was around to tell me not to drive it. but in order to get the title signed over to me, i had to go through an insane bureaucratic process of proving that my mom was dead, and that i was her kid, and that i should have the title to the car. this took months of back and forth miscommunication as dated notices were sent and bills piled up. because it wasn't just the car i got, but the debt as well. some $30,000 of it left unpaid by mom, which i was now expected to pay in her stead. my first job was working night shifts at a wal mart stocking the frozen food department, and that was the job where i rode my bike on the highway to get to work. i didn't drive because i didn't have a license, didn't have experience, was terrified of highway drivers, and knew very distinctly that if anything went wrong i'd instantly be in so much more debt (monetary and bureaucratic) than i already was. eventually my sister, a career nurse with three kids and a house, took over the car from me.

nobody understood why i didn't drive that car more. even my mom, when she was still alive, she said "when i was your age, i was dying to get out of the house." i was too! but for all that cars culturally represented freedom, in practice what they came to represent to me was the expected cost of participating in society. i was already sensitive to adults sneering at me for my perceived immaturity (the joys of being a millennial), which only compounded on learning that i didn't have a car or license, that i wasn't proactively joining Clubs or Organizations, that i wanted to pursue the arts of all things, that i wasn't Christian, etc etc etc. i never got out to see live music because i didn't have a car and didn't have money. i didn't get my first smart phone until late 2015. i spent a lot of my college years feeling alienated because i was at least two years older than everyone else (i already didn't want to go to college straight out of high school even before my mom died), still used a flip phone, and didn't have a car. which is to say i was a working class person trying to get by in a middle class institution. and i only got in because i was very good at peddling my sob story for sympathy points. FAFSA loves to finance the odd tragedy, i'm telling you (don't worry, i still had to take on a ton of student loan debt). when i expressed to family that i didn't want a car because i didn't feel safe as a driver, and felt that i shouldn't need to have a car in order to participate in society, they said "everyone feels that way at first, but you just have to get over it. or move to a big city. good luck affording that!" as a related aside, when i told those same people that i liked being in college for the pursuit of knowledge and wanted to graduate towards being a sort of generalist, they flatly insisted that that's not how college works anymore, and that i should instead put my energies towards a Useful Degree that would Get Me A Good Job.

of course they were sympathetic, at least on the surface. they told me these things in a kind tone, the way adults always do when what they're saying boils down to "it's not fair, but life ain't fair." and i've just never been able to accept that. before i knew anything about socialism or communism or materialist dialectics, when i was still very much under the thrall of post-Clinton liberalism, i still felt this deep-rooted conviction that when people said "life isn't fair," they were giving up something. that it was an excuse, an appeal to a higher power, a resignation to the status quo. my experience with cars, by the time i hit 25, was that you bought them for the freedom they promised, and then spent of your life driving that car between one of maybe five locations on the regular and doing very little else. the only time i ever felt free in a car was on a road trip, which happened with vanishing irregularity as all the associated costs skyrocketed in the 2000s. all the other time was spent driving in circles looking for parking, only to balk at how expensive it was. spent stuck in traffic for hours, amid concrete dunes of overpasses tangled with one another like a four-year-old's first try at tying their own shoes. spent angrily judging the poor driving conduct of other people, spent resenting anyone and everyone who inconvenienced their drive, spent rubbernecking at horrific accidents on the side of the road, spent worrying about car payments and insurance payments and how much it's gonna cost to get a tune-up, and then someone breaks in and steals all your stuff and your insurance doesn't want to pay for it, and then you get into an accident and you spend months haggling with your insurance and their insurance in the hopes that someone will maybe pay for the debt you've had to take on in getting your car repaired, because of course professional life doesn't take a break just because your mode of transportation got totaled.

and if i was applying for a job and the employer found out i didn't have a car, i was denied on the spot. i learned very quickly to lie about such things as often as possible. but i also learned that i could only bluff for so long before the lack of a car became a genuinely insurmountable hurdle. which fucked me up tremendously because at no point in my adult life, to this day, can i ever imagine being able to afford all the associated costs of having a car. in many respects, not having a car was the only reason i was able to survive the way i did. it meant i could work part-time while i was in school (with student loans making up the shortfall), share an apartment with two or three or four other people, and just barely have enough to eat the bare minimum and go see a movie sometimes. of course i wanted the freedom all my car-owning friends had, but mostly i wanted it so i could drive out into the middle of nowhere at night and be truly alone. i wanted a car so that i could escape from the frictional sandpaper bureaucracy of american existence... and i knew from experience by then that that's simply not how the world works.

it took me until 2020 to finally move to seattle, one of those mythical Big Cities with Actually Existing Public Transit. and holy shit, it's a revelation! i have better access the place where i live now than i ever have, and it's a freedom that costs SO MUCH LESS than the same would've cost me back home. but i've also lived here long enough now to see all the ways in which our transit system here is deeply flawed and run by the wrong people. i see many of the same forces at play here as i did back home. i see now how car owners and allies to the car dealership fiefdoms of the nation utilize car ownership and road maintenance as a tremendous lever of power. they've deliberately trapped us in this cycle of poverty and personal transportation reliance, and used the money they got from us buying their cars to then buy politicians so that they defund public transit and oppose any urbanist reforms. did you know that much of america used to be covered by street cars and rail lines? if you live in the midwest or on the west coast, your town very likely only exists the way it does because of mass public transit. they were necessary for bringing people into these remote places to create new markets for wealth extraction. once the population in those places was stable, and mass-produced personal vehicles became the norm, the capitalists of those areas deliberately allowed the transit networks to "go bankrupt" (ie they pretended transit is a business and not a utility that pretty much by definition can't turn a profit in a traditional manner) so they could be bought up and liquidated by future car dealers. this is what i think of when i remember my family telling me "that's just not the way the world works."

why? it used to be the way the world worked. why can't it be again? if the current status quo is the result of choices that created economic pressures which shaped the nature of society, why can't we do the same thing again but different? the way things are now is sick. it's unhealthy. the vast majority of microplastics come from car rubber, and what socioeconomic classes do you think are mostly likely to live close to high-traffic roads? it's not rich people, i'll tell you that. it's not the car dealers or the small city councils worried that a bus connection might bring the poors in. when i say "car owners need to be oppressed" i'm talking about these people. suburban supremacist dictators and their sycophantic liege lords whose biggest priorities in life are to keep gas prices low and to maintain their god-given right to never having to see a poor person. i hate these people because i've been sneered at by them my whole life, while they have been personally responsible for many of the same socioeconomic conditions which resulted in the deaths of both my parents, along with many other members of my extended family. i've long since stopped believing in the idea of "death by natural causes." only the rich live long enough to die old. the rest of us die by a thousand cuts borne of neglect. our healthcare is gatekept, our education is gatekept, our transportation is gatekept. freedom is a thing to be bought, and when you don't have money, the next best thing is your blood. you give it up for a piece of something and you convince yourself that it's enough for you. but it is only a piece, and its apportionment is the result of greed and avarice happening in broad daylight all around us. i fully believe that a genuine war will need to be waged against the car barons before this horrendous now can be toppled, and it will be a war because they are aligned with the cops and with capital. this, too, is a microcosm, and in it we see the nature of our struggle for socialism unburdened by neoliberal word salad.

people have made the world this way. and people will make it something else.

[seiya234]

later, after everything had happened, Hank would be asked in the know- how had he not known, not noticed that he had any kind of magic earlier than Portland.

("I mean, your uncle is a fucking demon," Oonagh had said at an ice cream social once, before burping and going to pick a fight with her cousin)

Always, always Hank would demure, with a touch of partial truth: "Portland just brought out the best and weirdest part of me."

But that wasn't the full truth. And that, he would take with him to the dark at the end that awaits us all.

--

People who didn't know better thought that Mabel and Dipper had been born in Gravity Falls. Hell Hank knew better but even he could never quite tell you where in California they were really born... and that was only partially because of the family estrangement.

Dipper may have been the one to mine the mysteries of Gravity Falls (before becoming it's biggest Mystery of all) but it was Mabel who was really, truly invested. She had already finished their first summer on a first name basis with everyone in town, and after a year she could point to a building, any building in town, and tell you it's history, the people who had lived their before and what they had done. By high school graduation she had united all the peoples of the forest under the Great Pizza Party and Wrestlemania 34 Treaty. And by sophmore year of college she was on a first name basis... with everyone in a tri-county area.

(It was a long standing family joke, that any trip to the grocery store with Mom would take three times as long than with anyone else... but considering that the last trip Hank took with Mom to Wal-Mart started with her saying hi to a friend's mother-in-law's ex-roommate... well. Just saying.)

It was like Mabel... was a cuckoo's egg, placed in the nest of Gravity Falls, but without any displacement of the birds in the nest...

Well.

Kind of.

---

Growing up, it was impossible not to notice Mom's Presence everywhere in town.

Seriously, everywhere.

In many ways, it was an absolutely wonderful way to grow up. They were allowed a freedom that most kids their age could only dream of. Admittedly, because said freedom was backed up by a demon uncle.

But mostly, really, because they were Mabel's kids, and everyone loved Mabel. If they got in trouble, Mom would get a phone call within two minutes of the event. If one of them got hurt, there were three or four adults almost always on hand, appearing out of the woodwork to help.

It was wonderful and not at all suffocating to have almost no secrets because everyone, every place, knew Mom. And what Gravity Falls knew, Mom did too.

---

Years on, especially if he had had two beers, Hank would think again about the cuckoo.

It felt, sometimes, like Gravity Falls was almost... hollow. Or like a dollhouse, with the dolls laying still, limbs akimbo until

(mabel)

someone played with them again. How much of the Falls revolved around the three of them, around Dipper and Stan and Dad and Mom?

Of course, Hank could just be being silly. It was easy in childhood, to think that the world revolved around yourself and your family, that your stories were the only ones being told.

Easy to pop a third beer rather than to thinking about the spark, the soul of Gravity Falls, leaving when Mom finally passes.

The truth was that surrounded in a town that Mabel Pines had so thoroughly made her own, it was no wonder that he had no idea, no wonder that Acacia lived gently, but firmly an hour away.

(He had no idea how Willow was... doing it. That. Or why. He and Acacia had never gotten a good answer out of her.)

He loved his mom, obviously. And he knew she meant no ill will, did not knowingly do harm.

But he wondered, what egg got pushed out of the nest. Wondered what he would have become, in another Gravity Falls, if he wasn't the son of a cuckoo bird.

And wondered too, if he himself had simply repeated the whole damn process.

[goqmir]

in my dream i imagined a world in which the most popular tv show in america was a drama/dark comedy about several neighborly families now vying for scraps of sustenance in a bloodborne-esque apocalyptic city where they have all died and gone to a torturous underworld. and the main character is the dork nobody really liked in any family who arbitrarily escaped death by hiding his soul in that of an automaton.

this tv show was the result of a brand deal where the artist Drake got really into painting somewhat gothic portraits of imagined characters during the 2020 lockdown. Wal-Mart offered Drake an exclusivity deal to sell prints of these paintings that included a personal studio, and Drake requested for his studio a hole so deep in the earth that they can use magnets to make the canvasses have zero gravity. americans lapped that shit up and Wal-Mart began releasing ads of Drake in his dark and cavernous underground warehouselike studio where he would paint mildly gothic portraits on floating canvasses held down to the floor and walls by a series of trusses from Roblox and cables from Teardown. these portraits were astoundingly popular and a similarly successful TV show was produced by Wal-Mart using the characters Drake would paint.

during the dream, I lived this TV show through the eyes of the twink main character. I escaped from the underworld pits by hiding in the body of a Wizard101 wooden automaton, and began wandering the streets of the gothic city it took place in, meeting still-alive members of the group of families the portraits depicted. A little before my death, tragedy struck the families and they had a falling out. During my dreams i had to watch all of these tragedies in grim detail, which I depicted as fairly funny in my head to the average american but like. i never really found death or suffering that funny even if a character dies by a series of slapstick events. so it kind of just sucked for me to have to bear witness to it.

every time a new character would appear, the original Drake portrait depicting them would be shown on screen. every character had the name of a Universes Beyond Magic: the Gathering card-- Graham O'Brien, Rosie Cotton, that sort of thing, even though they weren't related to the characters.

there was a segment where i could choose to revive anyone from the underworld that wanted to leave, and I saw the cartoon shadow of a cute babe from behind a boat winking at me and flirting with me. I chose her cuz i was like woahhh i love women but when I revived her I realized it was actually Evie Frye, my rival in life who was close to me as a child but drifted apart from me after witnessing the comedically gruesome death of her father. the dream then played out that death in a flashback sequence, which was sickening enough to me that it woke me up. and then I spent 30 minutes writing this post and that's been my morning so far.

[cowpokeomens]

Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact. 

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok. 

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink. 

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it. 

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again. 

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen. 

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?” 

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted. 

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea. 

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at- 

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly. 

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.” 

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if. 

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later 

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower. 

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him. 

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion. 

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.” 

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain. 

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.” 

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands. 

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer. 

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?” 

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.” 

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone. 

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine. 

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark. 

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working. 

So maybe this would. 

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly. 

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp. 

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?” 

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing. 

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt. 

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident. 

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours. 

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously. 

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately. 

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated. 

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense. 

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.” 

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact. 

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.” 

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper. 

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices. 

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin. 

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic. 

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you. 

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed. 

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets. 

 You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded. 

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said. 

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him. 

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you. 

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct. 

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though. 

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing. 

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you. 

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible. 

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch. 

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you. 

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on the Jedi in 'The Clone Wars'

Y'all have asked, and Dr. Meat Muffin might be a disgruntled old hag that chugs too much Trader Joe’s bourbon and doodles too much subpar art, but she keeps her promises!

Just so y’all know, if you’re a major character (Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, etc) you keep your name, because it was drilled into Doug’s head over 8 seasons of Clone Wars and the movies. Everyone else, though, Doug gave up and created his own catchphrases for them.

CW: This one's not as spicy as Doug's previous rants regarding Star Wars, but y'all know if y'all know. "It'll all come out in the wash."

--------------------------------------

Plo Koon: Ah, Shrimp Daddy. He looks like a shrimp that’s been boiled and left in the sun after a potluck. But my wife LOVES him, she says he has the nicest voice and she wishes he’d narrate some books. I loved him too, he was my favorite. That scene where he tells his clone boys in space that they’re important to him? Ah great. They should have him lead HR meetings. 

Aayla Secura: Babe-the-Blue-Jedi. They sent her away from the Temple because Yoda didn’t want that hotness distracting everyone. Is she and Miguel (Bly?!) dating? They are, right? 

Kit Fisto: Reggae Swamp Thing. Tell me that boy don't look like he lives in the Atchafalaya and bangs on the steel drums all day. I wonder if he stole those shorts from Michael Phelps. He’s cool but does he need to have a tank to swim in on his ship? Does he have gills? I need more info on this guy. 

Adi Gallia: Storm’s Cousin. Doesn’t this chick look like her? She does, right? Maybe she's a Jedi cause she can't control the weather. Didn’t Maul’s brother Saul impale her on his horns and that’s how she died?* Why didn’t Maul do that to Obi-Wan? Maul was obsessed with Obi-Wan, do you think it’s because he had a crush on him after he sliced him in half?

(Doug also ships Obi-Wan with Maul now? IS THERE ANYONE WHO DOUG DOESN'T SHIP OBI-WAN WITH?!)

Shaak-Ti: Ahsoka’s Aunt. They’re totally related. (“No, they’re not.” “Says who?” “Um, EVERYONE?!”) She’s cool, nice to the clone boys. I like her horns. 

Saesee Tiin : Angry Bull Boy. He looks like a minotaur whose daddy left him at a Wal-Mart instead of the Labyrinth after drinking too much.

Deepa Billaba: My Coworker Anu. Seriously! She looks JUST LIKE HER. I even texted her a screenshot, and she used that as her Slack Channel picture for the longest time. Nice lady, she's a good master to Lil Kanan. Hm, Lil Kanan sounds like a rap person my niece would listen to.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Mutant-Mall-Santa. Look me dead ass in the eye and tell me the man don’t look like he was supposed to hand out presents and ask kids what they want for Christmas and ended up hanging out in toxic waste instead. He's a snotty asshole, I don't like him, he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.

Luminara Undali: Lady-in-Drape. She’s a green lady, and she wears a drape. Meat Muffin, I'm tired and it's about to snow.

Barriss Offee: Little Lady-in-Drape. Man, she was awful, but she had good points, ya know? Kind of like Darth Maul. Do you think Darth Maul and Obi-Wan ever dated? Or would Obi-Wan’s boyfriend get jealous? 

Quinlan Voss: College-Hippie-Boy. Doesn’t he just look like one of those goofs that fart around with hackysacks all day long? I'd buy weed from him if he was selling, he looks like an exporter and consumer, if you know what I mean.

Even Piall: Dobby the House Jedi. Man he looks like he was on his way to help Harry Potter or something and ended up in a bathrobe with a light saber. Ah well. 

*= Savage is ‘Saul’ and Feral is ‘Paul’. So it’s Maul, Saul, and Paul. I strained a muscle laughing when I got this. 

Tagging my Redneck Doug stans here! @amalthiaph @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @thecoffeelorian @merkitty49 @megmca @skellymomam I missing anyone?

Let me know if I missed any Jedi, those were the ones that came up that Doug didn't immediately recognize.

[roguekhajiit]

Magats are so deep in the kool-aid bowl it's surprising they haven't drowned in it yet.

Trump has been recorded live, promising that Christians will never have to vote again so long as they get out and vote for him. Once they do that it will be the last time they ever need to vote.

"In four years, you don't have to vote again, we'll have it fixed so good you're not going to have to vote."

- Donald Trump at Turning Point Action's Believers Summit in West Palm Beach July 26, 2024

Everyone else sees his words for what they are; a threat to our very democracy. But his cultists simply grab themselves another cup of kool-aid and scoff. "Oh, you're just taking him out of context. That's not what he meant at all!"

So let's look at his other claim then, his promise to erase an important part of the 14th amendment.

Amendment 14, Section 1 :

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.

"As part of my plan to secure the border on Day 1 of my new term in office, I will sign an executive order making clear to federal agencies that under the correct interpretation of the law, going forward the future children of illegal aliens will not receive automatic U.S. citizenship."

- Donald Trump, May 2023

So he's gonna what, white out any part of the Constitution or its amendments that he doesn't agree with?

But of course, this plan to do away with birthright citizenship doesn't apply to him or his friends and family. No, because if he made it retroactive, that would mean his sons, his Dad, and even he himself would be stripped of all citizenship. Along with every other fucking white, non-native, racist fucktards who yell "Go back to where you came from" at any person of color they see at their local Wal-Mart. I guarantee they also have a "If this flag offends you, I'll help you pack" bumper sticker on their obnoxiously lifted, compensation prize, Ram 3500.

But his policy, of course, would never apply to himself and his precious white Christian cultists. No, it only applies to people of color. People who look like Kamala Harris and Barack Obama. People with naturally occurring melanin who, as a result, don't need to have a recurring appointment with a spray tan booth.

Of course, it only applies to people who look like his political opponents and their supporters. Why else would he and his cult continue to mail out political smear campaigns naming politicians WHO AREN'T EVEN RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT ANYMORE as the biggest threat to our country?!

Honestly, I think it's time to take a break from the Kool-Aid, folks. Barack Obama isn't living in the basement of the White House telling Joe Biden and Kamala Harris how to run the country. He doesn't have a back stock of Biden clones that he awakens anytime the current one expires. He's in his personal home office writing books.

The current threat to this country isn't Biden or Obama, or Harris. It flocks around a rotten peach and wears a red hat.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith comes over for Lance’s fifteenth birthday. Hunk is still in Hawaii, but he Skypes, and the three of them talk for two hours. It’s nice.

After Hunk hangs up, Lance decides he wants to make his own birthday cake. Keith decides he wants to help. Neither of them have ever baked by themselves before, but they figure it can’t be too bad.

And it isn’t – they make their way to Wal-Mart, buying six boxes of Betty Crocker’s yellow cake mix, because they don’t know if the box is telling the truth and it really does make a whole cake, so they figure a few extra boxes won’t hurt. They also buy eleven cans of icing, along with a bunch of blue food dye and sprinkles.

The next thing they do is try to put everything together. (They do, at this point, realise they have way too much shit. They only end up using two boxes for the cake, and one to eat the batter. And Lance will take no criticism on that – cake batter is fucking delicious.) That goes pretty well, too – they measure the ingredients and mix ‘em together. Easy. They even remember to grease the pan.

The… troubles, so to speak, come when they pop the cake in the oven and set a timer. Lance hoists himself up to sit on the counter while Keith does the dishes, because Lance is the Birthday Boy™ and is thus exempt from chores.

“In what world does being alive on a certain day mean you don’t have to do dishes,” Keith grumbles. Lance sticks out his tongue.

“In this world, where I am currently Queen of the Day, and you are subservient to me. Scrub the dishes in silence, mullet.”

Lance watches as the challenge visibly sparks up Keith’s spine. He straightens immediately, hands stilling. The sounds of scrubbing cease. Keith turns slightly to him, eyes dark and narrowed.

Lance gulps. He’ll deny it until his dying breath, but something stirs in his gut.

“What was that?” Keith asks carefully.

Lance has never been one to back down, even when he’s knee-deep in a pile of trouble. Especially not to Keith’s bitch ass, as objectively attractive as it may be.

“I said chop chop, get to work.”

Keith moves so fast he’s practically a blur. Water splashes everywhere, but Lance hardly notices. He’s too busy shrieking at the top of his lungs and vaulting over the counter. He sprints up the stairs, on all fours like an animal.

“Someone’s never seen a horror movie,” Keith growls, voice closer than Lance thought he was, and Lance chants in his head that it is not hot, it’s not, it’s lame and stupid and horrible and Keith is the worst. He is.

Lance finally makes it up the stairs and tears down the hallway, swinging into Veronica and Rachel’s bathroom and slamming the door shut milliseconds before Keith can follow him in. He turns the lock, panting heavily as the adrenaline hammers through his veins. The doorknob jiggles for a few seconds, as Keith turns the handle, but then stops abruptly. Footsteps fade as Keith walks away. Lance narrows his eyes. Since when does Keith give up so easily? (Once, Lance lied and said that he’s never once posted an embarrassing picture online and he has been carefully curating his online image his whole life. Keith pulled an all-nighter tracking down his old Tumblr account from when he was 11, and he didn’t even have his name on that thing. To this day Lance has no fucking clue how Keith found it, and lives with the constant shame that Keith has seen a picture of him posing in his room at like 3 in the morning, in front of his old Naruto poster, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue with the caption ‘im SO random XO RAWR XP’. If he thinks about the situation too much he feels like crawling into the nearest ditch and letting nature take him, so he shoves it quickly out of his mind, because it is his Birthday and he refuses to feel shame on his birthday.)

Suddenly the footsteps return, rapidly this time, and the handle jiggles again. A mounting horror washes through Lance as he remembers, abruptly, that the locks in his house are weird and every single one of them can be opened from the outside with a coin. Lance barely has time to even squeak before the door slams open and Keith comes barrelling through, colliding with him and sending them both tumbling to the floor. By the time Lance orients himself again, Keith is straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the ground and smirking at him.

“Who’s queen now, huh?” he taunts.

Lance swallows.

He swallows again.

He desperately prays his cheeks aren't as red as they feel, but he doubts God loves him that much.

“What’s the matter?” Keith asks, leaning closer. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lance isn’t even sure his brain is still working, let alone his fucking tongue. All he can feel is the length of Keith’s body pressed against his, the tensing of his muscles as he pins him down, the borderline fucking smoulder in Keith’s expression, two inches from his face –

A shrill beeping noise makes them both jump. They look around, then look at each other. What the hell is –

“Is that the smoke detectors?” Keith asks, and then they look at each other in horror.

“The cake!” they yell at the same time, and quickly untangle from each other and sprint back downstairs to the kitchen. The stove is billowing grey smoke, and a lot of it. Lance grabs a dishtowel and starts waving it back and forth, hoping to dispel some of it.

“Open the windows!” he shouts, and Keith rushes to comply. While he does that, Lance holds the towel in front of his face, slipping on an oven mitt with his other hand, and carefully opens the oven door. More smoke blows in his face, and he coughs, eyes burning. He blinks to clear them, and sighs in relief when he doesn’t see any flames. He carefully grabs the glass baking dish.

“Can you open the back door?” he asks. “I’m gonna set this outside, see if that clears the smoke a bit.”

Keith nods, and Lance rushes over to set the pan down on the concrete stairs. Luckily, the glass doesn’t crack. They go back inside, closing the screen door behind them, and take a moment to stare in hopeless silence at the hazy kitchen in front of them.

“So much for that cake,” Keith says.

“Mamá is going to kill me,” Lance breathes. “I am going to die at fifteen.”

Keith grimaces. “Maybe we can scrape off the burnt parts?”

Lance thinks back to the block of char currently sitting in the backyard, and imagines him and Keith with a butterknife each, desperately scraping off the black in a vain attempt to find even a sliver of edible cake before Mamá gets back from work, and the image is so ridiculous he bursts out laughing. Keith was already cracking up a little at his own damn suggestion, and loses it when Lance doubles over. That’s how Mamá finds them, in a smoke-filled kitchen, leaning on each other, struggling to breathe from both their laughter and all the fucking smoke.

“Lance, must you make a mess every time you have a friend over,” she sighs, and Keith and Lance just laugh harder.

“You and Keith are cleaning this kitchen from top to bottom. No exceptions. I don’t care if it’s your birthday, or that Keith’s a guest. He’s here enough that that’s hardly true, anyway. Dios.”

She walks away muttering, and Lance doesn’t even correct her about his and Keith’s friendship status. He finds that he truly doesn’t want to.

To be fair, Keith is about to spend the next couple hours helping him scrub the kitchen after they basically set it on fire. That’s something friends do, he’s sure.

[blazehedgehog]

What do you think of the idea that YouTubers in the 2010s are the reason Sonic had/has a bad reputation?

It's really stupid. Completely unfounded.

You know why Youtubers in 2010's felt that way? Because a lot of people outside of the Sonic fandom felt that way.

I was in high school when Sonic Adventure 1 came out. I got my Dreamcast for Christmas in 1999. Purely by surprise, my brother sent me $200 for Christmas that year after not hearing from him for a decade. I was living in Colorado, and we'd had a white Christmas, meaning the roads were too slick to drive anywhere on December 26th. But I knew I wanted that Dreamcast.

The local Wal-mart was a little over a mile away. So, I bundled up and hiked it. With other money I got for Christmas that year, I had just enough for the Dreamcast, Sonic Adventure, an off-brand VMU, an issue of Official Dreamcast Magazine with a demo disc, and a lightgun -- I'd wanted House of the Dead 2 and I was desperate for a home port of The Lost World.

I played Sonic Adventure all day, every day, for like a week. Some of that was the fault of the cheap VMU I got -- it wasn't even a VMU, it was just a memory card, and it was half the price of the official thing. For whatever reason, Sonic Adventure (and ONLY Sonic Adventure) had trouble saving to that thing. My saves would frequently corrupt and disappear. I didn't mind as much as you'd think. I willingly and happily replayed Sonic Adventure over, and over, and over, and over.

When I got back to school in January of 2000, a lot of other kids had gotten Dreamcasts and Sonic Adventure. And it turned out I was the Sonic Adventure evangelist.

I wouldn't say everyone hated Sonic Adventure, but they were pretty frustrated with it. The main talking point was that there were too many characters in the game and most of them weren't very good. Everyone had their ranking list for who they'd rather be playing as, and universally, everyone just wanted to keep playing as Sonic. Knuckles, Amy, and Big brought up the rear for the most-hated gameplay styles. A lot of kids were saying they weren't even going to bother finishing the game if it meant having to play as Amy and Big.

My point of view was that it was normal. Sonic 2 introduced Tails, Sonic 3 introduced Knuckles, so it makes sense that Sonic Adventure would introduce new playable characters as well. It did little to address their complaints that most of the non-Sonic characters were annoying.

This sentiment never went away. A year later, in 2001, Penny-Arcade, basically the biggest webcomic in the world at that point, awarded Sonic Adventure 2 "the best Sonic game where you do not play as Sonic" award, which was less of an actual award and more of a jab at how Sonic wasn't actually in 75% of that game.

Then the Gamecube ports started coming in, which, if you've watched my Definitive Way to Play series, you'd know that SA1 and SA2 were quick and dirty ports that introduced a lot of problems in visuals, control, and sound. Reviews for those versions deservedly slammed them, citing poor music that drowned out the dialog, rapidly dated visuals, and a generally buggy presentation, on top of all the problems people had with the original Dreamcast releases.

After that, the decline really hit its stride. Sonic Heroes, then Shadow the Hedgehog, then Sonic 06. A real triple whammy of things just getting worse, and worse, and worse. Sonic 06 in particular was so much worse that it hit the fabled point where it wrapped around to being kind of funny for some people.

All of this was YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS before "2010's Youtubers" ever stepped in front of a microphone. Those people were just recounting the lives they had lived.

Anyone who thinks 2010's Youtubers did anything are just revealing how young they were back then, and how ignorant they were about the general temperature of things beyond "after my nappy time and my juice box I'm going to play the colorful animals game, yay!!!"

Before that gets me into too much trouble, I'd also like to say that obviously, times change. Opinions are a fluid thing. There will always be a "younger generation" that thinks about things in a different way than the older generation. Anyone, no matter what era they grew up in, can go back and find some beloved nostalgic classic getting blasted by critics. (For example: recently I rewatched Howard the Duck, a legendary bomb for Lucasfilm, and I loved that movie as a kid)

Loving something that you realize everybody hated when it originally came out is kind of just part of the human experience. A rite of passage, almost. But it helps to embrace that perspective, understand it, and realize you can still keep liking that thing regardless.

2010's Youtubers did nothing except exist.

[natalieironside]

hi! gonna get right to it, how do i unionize my workplace? something happened yesterday which makes me think i could get most of my coworkers on board, and i want to do it. I really think we need to fight for 1.) insurance and better benefits, 2.) workplace safety and conditions better for mental health and emotional well-being, 3.) a livable wage, that sort of thing. but i have no idea how to start and you seem pretty knowledgeable, or at least like you'd have a good idea of where to start.

:) Well, the first place to start is gonna be over at https://www.iww.org/membership/ where u can get your very own red card and access to a vast array of resources and individual expertise. There might even be a General Membership Branch in your area, which would make things go quite a bit easier.

Organizing a shop is a big job with a lot of steps and I always point people towards the One Big Chungus first b/c we regularly do stuff like Organizer 101 trainings you can get in on and that's sure to be more useful than a Tumblr text post. But in brief, you should start by trying to make connections with your co-workers and talk to them about workplace issues, but remember to take it slow; don't throw around scary words like "union" or "strike" all willy-nilly and keep these activities away from the prying eyes of The Boss. That's the Agitation stage of AEIOU: Agitate, Educate, Inoculate, Organize, Unionize.

In the Education stage, the organizer will start introducing more radical ideas to these conversations, talking about what a union is/does and what collective action is/can achieve with contemporary examples (for instance, "Did you hear about how those Starbucks workers did XYZ")

The Inoculation stage prepares your proto-campaign for inevitable pushback like propagandistic head games and million-dollar union-busting lawyers. Those le epic takedowns of Amazon or Wal Mart anti-union training videos are examples of Inoculation.

You've reached the Organizing stage when you feel ready for your first collective action, such as a walkout or confronting the boss as a group.

And Unionize is I think pretty self-explanatory; once you feel strong enough, you can publicly declare your organizing campaign.

There's lotsa tips in the #organizing tag over at @onebiguniondaily and I very recommend following cool fellow workers @boffin-in-training and @soul-hammer