#Because they don't think they deserve it and because they think adults don't need that stuff

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Thirty Two)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Thirty Two: Cillian is keen to ensure Y/N takes it easy, wanting her to be as calm as possible. They agree that his sons need to hear the news from them - and soon. But Y/Ns suggestion for doing that surprises Cillian a little when both of them find it difficult to sleep. Y/N tries to ease the tension, but she voices a feeling Cillian had always known she feels. [Angst/Anxiety & Fluff/Sexually suggestive]

@cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @strangeions @borntodiemp3 @lavender-haze-01

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“You need to relax. I'm annoyed about it, and we need to talk to Mal and Aran sooner than later, but what's more important to me right now is that you calm yourself down.” Cillian says, his hands on your biceps in the middle of the kitchen. He's been home an hour. Cuddles and welcomes have long since passed, and the obligatory cup of tea has been drained. It took you twenty minutes before you raised the article, and a further five minutes before you cried. “We've time enough to talk to them, and sure now I'm at home there'll be no more, but I think we should talk to them before the scan. I know you're iffy on that, but I think they're going to need the time to process it too. And Yvonne. I mean we're only after telling them we're not having a baby, and we've to go back on that now.” He moves his hands and wraps them around you, pulling you in against his chest. “I know it's scary. But we've got to do it.” 

“It isn't just that.” You sigh, sniffling your sobs down. “They printed things about us, Cillian.” 

“Yeah,” he inhales as he mutters the word. “And didn't I tell you they would?” You can hear in his tone he's not fishing for points to score, but you feel it anyway. “It's a shitty article, by a shitty group of so-called journalists. And there'll be more, about whatever the fuck they want to write. But we're having a fucking baby!” You can hear his small laugh through his ribcage. “And they're scumbags, and it'll be fucking shit, and it's exactly what I didn't fucking want - but we're having a fucking baby, Y/N. I'm happy. I'm shit scared to tell me own kids, but I'm happy.” 

“I don't want to hurt your boys, Cill. They're going to be…,” you sigh and push up against his chest. “They're going to be so mad, hurt, they're going to think we lied to them.” 

Cillian takes a deep breath, “Maybe they'll be all of those things.” He nods, “But they're going to have a brother or sister in a while, and that's not going to change because they feel whatever they do. I don't want to hurt them either, ever. But this is my family too. You and that baby.” You're aware it might sound cold to others, but to you it's what you need to hear. This is his home, his life, his family. It's not erasing his sons at all, but this is the immediate life he lives now. 

“And telling Yvonne?” You raise your eyebrows, and your heart flutters as you say her name. 

“Yeah,” he drags his mouth to the side and frowns, “That's going to be a fucking mission too.” he sighs and shakes his head. “But it's nothing to do with her. It's the boys that matter. She deserves to know, of course, and hear it from me, but that's as far as that loyalty goes.” It's an amazing string of words to hear him say, soothing so many of your anxieties if just for a while. “What she thinks doesn't matter. Like I said, it's the lads I'm worried about. But this is happening regardless. There'll be a cot, and a pram, and fucking…pumps and nappies and dodies.” He smirks. 

“Dodies?” You repeat. 

“Yeah, the wee dummies.” He grins. 

“We called them dadoos when we were small.” You chuckle. 

“Dadoo?” He laughs, “Where the fuck did youse pull that name outta?” 

“Same place you got dodie, you big freak.” you swat your hand against his chest, and sigh to try and feel calmer. “Fuck, Cill, why can't this just be simple, like every other couple, having babies? Why did I find you when I did?” 

He smiles softly, but he looks sad. “Cause that's when I needed ya.” 

You feel an emotional swell at his words, and your chin quivers, “Oh, love.” You bring your hand up to his cheek. “When do you want to do it? Tell them?” You bring your hand down again and rest it back on his chest. 

“After Christmas?” He says, brows raised. “Or do you want to do it before? I only say after so it's peaceful fucking Christmas.” He scoffs. 

“They're your boys, it's your decision when.” You tell him. “I'll support whatever you decide.” 

Pursing his lips, he nods slowly, then sighs heavily. “I'll think about it.” He whispers, and pulls you in closer again. He rests his cheek on the top of your head and holds you tightly. “Will we get dinner?” He asks, swaying you slightly from side to side. 

You wrinkle your nose, though he can't see it, “Like what?” 

“Spin down to the chipper?” He suggests. 

“You go,” you shake your head and slowly pull yourself from his arms. You would stay there - it's comfortable, and intimate, and you're so glad he's here - but the mere suggestion of food is turning your stomach. “I don't want anything.” 

“I won't get a feed without you,” he raises his eyebrows. “Will you not have anything? Will I cook?” 

“No, love, you're just in the bloody door.” You shake your head. “Go and get your chips, don't eat them near me,” you laugh, “Then we've the whole night.” 

“To sleep, I hope?” He grins. 

“God, yes,” you sigh with a laugh.

You wake up with a sudden jump, and you're not sure why. You can't recall a dream, but suddenly you're awake and you're cold. You turn onto your back and instantly realise that Cillian isn't there. Shifting to retrieve your phone, you check the time - just gone three am. You throw your legs from the bed and sit up, shivering in the chilly room. Cillian's hoodie from the day is thrown over the chair in the corner, and you grab it and instantly snuggle yourself into it. You push your feet into your Ugg slippers and slip from the room, not being too quiet. As you step down the stairs you can hear the TV, and there is the glow of a light from down there, too. You brace your hands as you walk down, and land at the bottom feeling even more cold than upstairs. “Hey, what're you doing?” You ask, catching sight of Cillian on the sofa. He's laid out across it on his front, head against a cushion in the corner and legs stretched down, arms tucked up beneath the small cushion. He's wide awake, glasses on, and watching the TV. He shifts his head slightly and looks at you, pushing his lips into a pout. He looks tired and you're not sure if it's because he hasn't slept and is flagging, or because he hasn't been up long and is still exhausted. 

“Watching Interstellar.” He says and sniffs. He draws his hand from under the cushion, clutching the controls, and pauses the film. “What are you doing?” he asks, and yawns tightly. He doesn't sit up, but he snuggles his head against the cushion a little. His cheek is pushed up and it makes his lips look fuller. 

“Standing here, looking at the teenager laid out on the couch.” You say and smile when he scoffs a small laugh. “You couldn't sleep?” 

“Ah,” he tuts. He shifts around and finally pushes himself up. He sits into the corner of the sofa and bends his left knee up, foot planted into the seat. “Just a bit wired I think, thinking about how to talk to the lads.*

“We just have to tell them, love. Like you said, and you were right, we're going to have a baby regardless.” You reassure him, though you're still so nervous about all of it. “We can't control how they'll think or feel, but at least it'll come from us and not some wank-page report they get sent or find themselves.” 

“Wank-page,” he mutters, smiling a little. He removes his glasses and folds the arms in, then tosses them down onto the sofa beside the TV controls. You watch as he fidgets, filled with an anxious energy. His tongue swipes around his mouth and his fingers flick and tap against his raised leg. 

“Go,” you say, wondering if you'll regret it. 

He frowns at you and his tongue stills. “Where?” 

“In the garden - I admire that you're trying to do what I wanted, but I can see you're struggling. Go and have a bloody cigarette.” You push your hands into the pocket of his hoodie you're wrapped in. 

“I'd the last one at the airport, waiting on the taxi.” He says, then purses his lips. You're almost happy to hear that, but you also know that after weeks back on high doses of nicotine, he's going to be a little grumpy. “C'mere,” he says. He pushes his legs down and holds his arm out to welcome you in for a hug. You smile as you walk over and curl in against his side. His arm immediately wraps around you. “I was thinking,” he says and you want to make a joke about smelling smoke, but you hold off. “Will we give the baby an Irish name?” 

“We don't even know what it is yet,” you smile, but it occurs to you that you've been so wrapped in your anxiety that the thoughts of cute things like that had been pushed far away. 

“I know but, like, I'd want an Irish name.” He says quietly. “A wee Oisín or Ciarán, or a Caoimhe or Róisín.” 

“We could have twins, Róisín and Oisín.” You laugh a little. 

He tuts, but he's smiling. “When I read the article I wanted to ring the boys there and then and just tell them. Say, look lads we're having a baby and that's what's happening. You know? And then I didn't want to hurt them, and I still don't. Like, I know what they're going to think. They're going to think we lied about it. And that's what's fucking eating me, you know? I love ‘em, they're my best friends, and-and I don't want to hurt them or push them away further. Malachy's in such a good place with us now, and after talking with Aran I know he feels better. I don't want to fuck that. But Y/N, having this baby with you feels good. I know what I said before and I know we went through the shit over, but I'm happy it's happening. I am. I promise you. But all the shit - the kids, the press, Yvonne, the reactions from every fucker around us… I'm scared of all that.” 

It scares you a little that he's echoing your fears, but it's good to know you're not alone in them. But you know you're on your own in the fear that somewhere in the midst of this pregnancy, he's going to flip his ideas again. “We should tell the boys before Christmas.” You say. “Let's have a couple of days, you and me here at home, and then we can have them over - the boys and Yvonne. Tell them all together.” 

Cillian turns his head a little and you look up. “You want to do that?” He sounds surprised, happy maybe, and you nod your head. 

“We have to.” You say quietly. “Sooner rather than later, it has to be said and it has to be before any more shit like that article is produced.” You sigh heavily, “And then after the scan, after we know everything is okay… then we tell everyone else that needs to know. Your family first.” 

You can feel the vibrations as he laughs, “Ah, fuck, Páidi's going to have an opinion or two.” 

“He's your little brother, he's supposed to!” You smile. You wrap your arm around his slight waist and snuggle closer. “I am so fucking glad you're home.” 

“Me too,” he hums, pulling you closer. 

“It's been no fun fucking myself.” You laugh, breaking the heaviness in the air. 

“Ah stop,” he throws his head back against the sofa, chuckling lightly. Then he laughs a little more, “I'd the earphones in on the plane, and that song came on, you know the one Afternoon Delight?” He pauses as he giggles again. “Just made me think of you recently.” 

“I googled it,” you say, “Pregnancy and wanting to fuck all the time. Apparently it only happens when your partner is Cillian Murphy.” You tease, and he laughs again. “It's just a good job I'm already pregnant because it's that fucking feeling I like… feeling you just spilling inside me.” You shake your head and know you need to stop, you're only egging yourself on here. “We'd be in serious trouble otherwise.” 

“Stop talking,” he sighs and shifts. “... Jesus.” 

“You're alright,” you laugh, “I'm too tired to ride you like I want to. But I swear, Cill, we're destroying the sofa in the next two days. I need that out of my system before I stand in front of the family I destroyed and tell them we are having a baby.” 

He laughs awkwardly, his whole body shaking as he does, and he tightens his arm around you more. “Y/N, you didn't destroy anything. I've told you this so many times, I know you know. I wanted that marriage over.” 

“Would you have left if we hadn't spent that year sneaking around?” you ask. You've asked before and you know what he'll say, but it never clears your fears for long enough. 

“Yes. We were falling apart, Y/N. The only thing you did was show me it would be okay to do it. You didn't ruin anything.” He reassures you, but you know that he knows that will always be how you feel. “And I'll tell you once more, but I won't remind you again - whatever happens, I love you.” 

[genericpuff]

vent post

[torchstelechos]

My "Siffrin deeply cares for and wants to protect Bonnie because no one did so for him when he was their age, because I think he ran away at their age and it's one of the reasons he tries to treat them as he wished he was treated" propaganda is working >:3

[fiddleabout]

didn't think it was possible to experience a more egregious level of Smart-Person Stupid than when dealing with doctors a work, but now. now. now, there are coders. god save me from smart people who couldn't find their ass without going around their elbow because i am about to kill a bitch.

[dirkxcaliborn]

I love you media that doesn't romanticize forgiving abusive family

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Break 🤝 Ebisu - waiting for years to die and then realizing when the time comes that they want to live...

anon i don't know who you are or what prompted you to send this, but....... yes, I suppose? but also Ow why did you have to make me think of this

[problemnyatic]

Ugh. I'm certain y'all've noticed, but I've been swinging bats at hornets nests online more and more lately and it's extremely because I'm unhappy with my life right now. Vent under the cut!!! woooo

I'm frustrated and feel trapped in a dearth of agency between The World and The Difficulties and the way my life has not set me up for success in any kind of way save for my small but golden group of friends and partners.

I'm constantly fighting an uphill battle to have my medications in order and every time one falls off or falters it makes keeping myself from fumbling the others that much more precarious. While i'm struggling to keep the utter foundation of my capacity to function held tohether, I need to find some way to string together enough practice with my hobbies that they can turn into marketable skills- an endeavor that absolutely kills my passion for said hobbies.

My sleep schedule is a nightmare and without external structure (read: school or a job) keeping me beholden to one, I'll never be able to keep it together because the one actual nucleation point in my life is my friends, who all have different sleep schedules and live in various time zones. And my desperation to constantly have someone around means I'm up as late as my up-late-est friend is, and then some so I have Me Time to be autistic about nothing/The Questionable in peace.

And even the one thing I do actually do, play video games all day, is frought, because i've gotten into too many at once and now I'm overwhelmed by being pulled in too many directions at the same time. It sounds like such a frivolous complaint among everything else, but it means the only fucking staple in my life- the escape from the looming stress of it all- is also fucking stressful and keeps me antsy.

to my darling girlfriend i live with who I know is reading this, please just don't read the next pragraph. its agonizing about things that there's nothing to be gained from fretting about, that you will fret so much about if reminded (we've talked about these things before, they just cannot be meaningfully changed). I love you so much and i kiss you

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I'm cataclysmically imbalanced right now, and the circumstances of where I live only compound it. I moved a year and a half ago, and I still have barely been outside, let alone connected with anyone new here. The pandemic combined with living in a suburb without a license mean I'm profoundly isolated here, so I cling to the digital world to feel a sense of connection. It's not good for me. These days I spend most of my time in a windowless room for most all of my day, and sleep through the day anyways.

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hiii darling welcome back

I need a serious restructuring of my life, and there's nowhere good to start. my adhd and autism have me trapped between a nigh inability to deliberately form habits, and a pathalogical contempt for manufactured rules and structures. I can't live my life by an arbitrary design, there needs to be weight behind it, not just "I said so," even and especially if I'm the bitch saying so.

Maybe I need an actual perscribed exercise routine. Maybe I need a steady supply of smokeable weed (edibles just do not fucking cut it for the nature of my needs). Maybe I need local friends, despite being well over capacity for relationships I'm keeping track of. It feels like I have a laundry list of things I need to get around to, all of which will help me actually improve my life, and the list itself feels unapproachable until my life improves. I'm just glancing off of everything I need to be doing in a circle forever.

So I'm frustrated. I feel impotent and useless and imeffective and adrift and frustrated at how much fucking effort it's taking to go absolutely fucking nowhere.

So I swing bats at hornet nests. Because it makes something happen. Something that I can see. It lets me watch myself have an effect on the world in some small, petty, ultimately meaningless way, but in a way I can fucking see, it's tangible. And much to my own fucking chagrin, that has utterly zero correlation to how healthy it is. Much like the rest of my habits, I guess.

I'm so fucking upset at the state of my life. I really hope my endless stabs at untangling this gordian knot of unstarters fucking get me somewhere soon. It feels like i'm struggling in quicksand.

[thestarseersystem]

Honestly, out of the term "syskid" vs "little", I prefer little because our littles are more similar to an "inner child" than to actual children.

They know of kink, they understand suicide, they know of dark and mature topics, and while yes, some seem like actual children, I can assure you that we are bodily adults, and wish to be treated with the respect and authority that adults have.

I don't want to keep reiterating this. But we're not kid safe, child safe, despite having little alters.

And finding a safe space for them is not the same as having a space for bodily children.

And yes, some systems are different, some systems want their syskids/littles to be treated like actual children, seen like actual children, be in a space for actual children.

But we've been hypersexual since we were 5 years old, and stuff like kink is comforting and is a safe space for us. It's been the only space to be openly small for a long time. In our childhood it was not safe to be a child, so child spaces with child boundaries can feel triggering.

Being a little is more similar to regressing than it is to become a child.

So I will tell you, don't treat us like children, despite the innerworld age. Until it's free and safe for us to be complete children, we don't want you to trigger our regression in any way. Be kind to systems like me, they have no choice.

We want as much choice and freedom and power that we can get. We need adult boundaries more than we need comfort.

[drysauce]

fuck this shit i'm NOT working this summer

[aph-estonia]

every time i think about being near other people i actually do throw up in my mouth a lil. many such cases! very sad to see...

[kanvasal]

this would do absolutely nothing to discourage me from taking fentanyl (there are various other reasons why I will never)

The real solution are ads like those incredibly dark and disturbing anti-smoking ads. I don't think that I actually saw that many, but god damn do they stick

[areyoudoingthis]

that post about how if you don't value someone to ask for their advice why would you accept their criticism really changed my perspective about things

[kaijutegu]

Aug ABSOLUTELY deserves the praise, @ryukikit. St. Augustine Alligator Farm is one of my favorite animal facilities, hands down. It's a pretty zoo, doable in an afternoon if you kinda like crocodilians, or an all day affair if you REALLY like crocodilians. Here are my favorite things about it and why I think it's worth supporting.

1. They keep animals in interesting social groups.

Crocodilians are heavily involved parents, but most places that breed them don't have the enclosure space to let the babies stay with the parents. St. Augustine does. One of my favorite groups was their crèche of slender-snouted crocodiles. They had the parents and then a yearling cohort and a new hatchling cohort. This aligns with how these guys live in the wild- the babies stick around longer! They have the space for it, and they are very in tune with the social needs of their animals.

Very, very few zoos can keep their baby crocs with the adults and still perform maintenance and animal health checks safely. This doesn't mean these facilities are bad- it just means that they have different management practices. And frankly, a lot of these species aren't frequently bred elsewhere. Your average zoo doesn't need a setup where you can have a multiyear crèche for slender-snouted crocodiles. Some species have better success when the young are pulled early, and some zoos are better set up to raise out any offspring separately or behind the scenes. Every facility's practices are different, and this just happens to work well at St. Augustine and be really enjoyable to see as a zoo patron.

Crocodilians are exceptional parents and very protective. It's a sign of incredible animal management practices and animals that feel very comfortable with staff that St. Augustine can do this with nearly every species they breed.

2. They understand the social needs of their animals.

Some crocodilians are social. Some are solitary. Some can live happily with a member of the opposite sex but get territorial around members of the same sex. St. Augustine pays incredible attention to their social groupings to ensure that they aren't just meeting the animals' physical health needs but their social needs as well. They do continuous scientific research about social structures in crocodilians, taking blood samples to test stress hormones and observing stress behaviors to see how group dynamics change.

For example, St. Augustine is home to one of the world's largest known living saltwater crocodiles, Maximo. And his comparatively tiny mate, Sydney. During the educational presentations with these two, they point out that even their monster of a croc needs his social group- he won't eat if she's not around and he is calmer during medical checks if he can see her. These animal share a deep and special pair bond, and they make sure to talk about how the social aspect of these animals' lives is integral to their care. It's a unique aspect of the way they talk about these animals, because he IS a spectacle and he IS a sensation, but they don't talk about him like he's a mindless killing machine- they talk about him like he's a big, complex predator with social needs like any other animal. Aug is the only facility I've been to where the emotional and social needs of crocodilians is part of the education they provide guests- and speaking of education...

3. Their demos and presentations are extremely good.

The presentations at St. Augustine are some of the best I've ever seen, and I've seen literally hundreds of animal talks on everything from aardvarks to zebras. But as you... can probably tell from my blog content, I've spent a lot of time learning about and working with reptiles. I really enjoyed all of their presentations because they are very scientific about things and avoid sensationalism. They really want you to be fascinated by these creatures and love them- but more than anything else, they want you to respect them.

Also, they do a really good job handling their ambassadors. I really enjoyed something as simple as watching an educator tell us about snakes. Throughout the whole presentation she made sure that most of the snake's body was looped in her hand. The snake was always supported and was very calm. She gave the snake plenty of head room so that it didn't feel constricted- it was just good handling all around.

But also, the presentations made it clear how much the park cares about the animals' well-being. When they do the feeding and training presentations, they make it very clear that the animals' participation is entirely voluntary. They do things differently for their 9-foot saltie and their 16-foot saltie, because the 16-footer is so large and heavy he actually struggles walking on land sometimes. They adapt their programs and his care to ensure that he's completely comfortable- and he didn't actually participate in the whole feeding when I was watching! At no point did they try to push him into anything uncomfortable; they offered, he didn't engage, and they moved on. It was a clear expression of his boundaries, and I really appreciated how much his caretakers respected that.

4. Ethical Interactions

I've been to... a lot of tourist locations in Florida that have animals you can hold. Almost always against my will! Many of them are pretty terrible, and you don't actually learn much, if anything. But I really found that to not be the case at St. Augustine. Every single animal presentation and interaction opportunity was accompanied by education about the animal's biology, habits, and- crucially- their conservation status.

When I held a baby alligator at St. Augustine, the proctors- there were two, one to ensure I was holding the gator correctly and the other to educate- were very informative about the role alligators play in their ecosystem and their conservation history. The animals were all properly banded, and one of the two proctors was there to ensure that none of the baby alligators were uncomfortable. As soon as they started getting squirmy or tense, they were removed, unbanded, and taken to an off-exhibit area to relax. And when the babies age out of petting size, they just go in the lagoon to live with others of their species. I saw one upset alligator the entire time I was there, and he was clearly upset that his escape attempt was foiled by a keeper during my nursery tour.

Even though he's restrained in this shot, you can see that his full body and tail are supported, and the grip, while firm, is gentle. He's distressed, but after I took this picture, she put him in his enclosure and he calmed down immediately.

Sometimes when you have petting attractions with baby animals, those animals... don't have a happy ending. (See: cub petting.) But St. Augustine's program is fine- the gators are all aged out of wanting to have mom around, there's no declawing/defanging, and they're handled with care. And it's worth it, because people love what they understand. St. Augustine was integral in raising public awareness about alligators back in the 60s when they were endangered, and now they're thriving- largely in part to programs like St. Augustine getting people to care.

And speaking of getting people to care, let's talk about their research.

5. Shared Research Results

St. Augustine is also home to more species of crocodilian than anywhere else in North America- all of them, usually. (They didn't have a Tomistoma when I visited- that may have changed.)

Because of this species diversity, it's an incredible research resource. Having every species means that you can do a lot of work comparing their behaviors, their growth patterns, and more. They've been a major research site for crocodilian biology since the 1970s. Today, they're one of the key sites for studying crocodilian play and social behaviors. They actually maintain a blog where they post copies of papers that were written using their animals, meaning that you can actually see the results of the research your admission helps fund. You can see that right here: https://www.alligatorfarm.com/conservation-research/research-blog/

All of this adds up to a zoo that provides a unique experience, tons of actual education, and transparency about what its research and conservation steps actually are. St. Augustine's come a long way since its opening in 1893, and they really do want you to leave with a new respect for the animals they care for. Ultimately, if you're a fan of reptiles, you can feel good about visiting the St. Augustine Alligator Farm- their care and keeping are top of the line, they do a ton of innovative conservation research and support for conservation organizations, and you can see this animal there:

(Gharial from the front. Nothing is wrong with her that's just what they look like from the front.)

[neverendingford]

,

[racefortheironthrone]

Nobody is making anyone go into scriptwriting. No one is born in a Netflix company town where their dad takes them into the script mines at age 12. Fuck writers who want to get paid more than once for the same job. They should only get residuals AFTER all the people who do REAL WORK, like construction, grips, costume, makeup & animators etc. Most of them are much better at their jobs than writers especially for streaming services, and they are what screenwriters can lean on & novelists can't.

People need to realize that the unions for white collar people like WGA or SIEU or NEA (public sector unions are why cops who kill the people they were supposed to serve & protect remain employed get pensions) is not the AFL-CIO or any other historical union fighting for the lives of the people who built the country's industry and made it run, any more than the NRA are the Minutemen of 1775 New England.

First, go fuck yourself, you fucking scab. No, seriously - you don't come to my blog and spout off about what workers deserve unions and decent pay and what ones don't, like it's your fucking decision. The intellectual labor that writers perform is just as real as any other work done on a film set - "all who labor by hand or brain" is the inherent logic of industrial unionism for a reason.

Second, writers aren't asking to get paid more than once: residuals are deferred pay, you absolute moron. In Hollywood, whether it's writers or actors or voice talent or whatever, you get a small fraction up front - it's usually an ok check, depending on the union's day rates and so forth, but you can't make a living off stitching these together - and then most of your pay comes from monthly royalty checks that provide you with the income you need to live off when you're between jobs.

The problem is that, historically in Hollywood, residuals have been structured with a very long "tail" - the payments start out relatively low and then get more generous over time as the show has more seasons and (presumably) goes into syndication. This doesn't work with streaming's new business model, where increasingly shows are getting 2-3 seasons max and streaming services have become increasingly quick to not just cancel shows but yank them off their servers in order to avoid paying residuals.

So what WGA writers are fighting for is a system that ensures writers (but also actors and other creative workers, because the unions pattern bargain) get a fair share of the show's revenue, even if the show is only given 2-3 seasons.

Third, the U.S labor movement would not exist today if it wasn't for white collar workers and public sector workers. About half of the U.S labor movement - 7 million workers - is public sector, and those workers are overwhelmingly women of color, mostly working as either teachers or postal workers. Likewise, about half the U.S labor movement is made up of white collar workers, and we're graduate students and adjuncts and lab researchers, teachers and social workers, administrators and IT departments.

I'm both public sector and white collar, and I'm a member of an NEA union. I'm an adjunct professor who earns $6,000 a course and it's my job to get working adults with jobs and families who've never gone to college or who've been out of higher ed for a decade to graduate with a bachelor's or a master's. If you don't think that's real work, you're free to research and write all the lectures and powerpoints, deliver those in an entertaining and educational fashion, answer a flood of questions from students who need help navigating academia, and then grade all the midterms and finals and research papers.

[merrinla]

Davrin vs Lucanis cut content. Actually, some of it was rewritten, but most of it was cut.

I guess this is a previous version of the dialogue after Weisshaupt.

Davrin: My problem is you've got a demon in you. That's enough to lock you away. But you're also very good at killing people. Davrin: Combine the two, and I don't know how we let you anywhere near this team. Lucanis: Because it wasn't your decision. (?): Lay off, Davrin. It's not your place to interrogate him. (?): Rook made the call. Rook: All right, all right. That's enough. Davrin: No, it isn't. Davrin: If this demon gets out of hand we're all in trouble. Rook: I'm not worried about Lucanis. Davrin: But you should be…. (?): But you were worried, Rook. Rook: Well, I'm not now. Rook: Everyone deserves a chance. Rook: I stand by my decision. Lucanis and his demon will behave. Davrin: But how can you know that? What if Spite attacks Assan? Lucanis: He'd win. Davrin: What? If anything happens to Assan— Lucanis: The Venatori were better at it. Davrin: Yeah? Well they had your number real good. Lucanis: And what about you, Warden? Don't all your kind have the blood of darkspawn in your veins? Davrin: What do you know about that? Lucanis: Adamant Fortress. The Wardens must have told stories about it. Everyone else did. Lucanis: Prison warden… Grey Warden, what's the difference? Davrin: Let me get my blade and I'll show you— Rook: Careful there, Lucanis. I'm a Grey Warden too. option: Both of you work this out. Rook: You're adults. You can settle how to work together yourselves. option: Davrin is right. Rook: Obviously, having a demon in the Lighthouse is dangerous. We can't pretend otherwise. Lucanis: You're no longer glad I'm here? Rook: I am. But Davrin's not wrong. Lucanis: And I thought we were getting along. Rook: I still need to be careful. option: Lucanis is right. Rook: Every single person on this team is dangerous. Nice, safe, regular people don't fight ancient gods. (?): We're being careful. I'll be keeping an eye on Lucanis. (?): I'll be watching Lucanis. (?): Somebody has to. Lucanis: Such fine hospitality. Davrin: Just be grateful you're not back in the Ossuary.

The conversation with Varric after that.

Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight. And I just ticked off Lucanis. Again. The minute he got back. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight, and now Lucanis is probably ticked at me. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other instantly. And now Davrin's ticked off at me. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight. And now they're both ticked at me. Varric: Don't panic. Things always seem impossible. Just fight one battle at a time. option: I need to find the enemy. Rook: I can't fight any battles right now, Varric. We have no targets. Rook: Don't give me sage advice. Give me a target. option: I need a plan, not platitudes. Rook: I know you're trying to help. Rook: I appreciate the effort, Varric, but that doesn't exactly help when we don't know where to go next. Varric: Look around you. You've got all these people. Experts in all sorts of things. Rook: I just told you, the team— Varric: No, no. That's the problem. You have people. Not a team. They don't know each other, and they don't know you. Varric: Work on getting to know them. The better you understand your people, the closer you get to having a team. Rook: Understanding won't make them work together. Varric: No, you have to do that. Which means they all have to trust you. Even if they hate each other. Rook: That's not going to work. Varric: It's worth a try. Rook: How? I've never led people like these before. Varric: Ordinarily, I'd say you should get them all into a game of Wicked Grace, but I think you'll have to work up to that. Varric: Start with Lucanis and Davrin. Something else must be eating at them, to get them at each other's throats. Rook: I guess it can't hurt. Varric: That's the spirit.

Another squabble.

(?): The trail's gone cold. (?): We don't have any leads. Rook: Hey, what's— Davrin: You're the Crow! You're supposed to have eyes and ears everywhere! Or maybe the only voice you hear is Spite's! Rook: I said, Hey! Lucanis: You're the Grey Warden, the "expert" on all this blight! You're supposed to have answers! Lucanis: Maybe you're spending too much time playing with your flying cat! Rook: So the two of you decide to tear into each other? Knock it off. Rook: That's not anyone's fault. We just haven't caught a break yet. Lucanis: Tell him that. You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin's the problem. Davrin: Tell him that. You said it yourself, Rook: Lucanis is the problem. Rook: Seriously! You need to take all this anger and use it against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain! Davrin: I'd love nothing more. Just as soon as Lucanis and his Crows do anything to find them. Lucanis: We're waiting for you and your Wardens to remember your job is to… What is it again? Oh, yes—destroy the blight. Rook: You think it makes me happy? I'm pissed off, too Davrin: You should be pissed at him. You said it yourself, Rook: Lucanis is a problem. Lucanis: You should be pissed at him. You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin is a problem. Lucanis: You should be pissed at him. I tried to warn you. Davrin: I tried to warn you about him, Rook. Davrin: If you'd listened to me about him, we wouldn't have this problem. Lucanis: You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin is a problem. Davrin: You said it yourself, Rook, Lucanis is a problem. Rook: The way you two are going, I'd rather spend my time talking with Solas. Rook: I wouldn't mind a little break from reality right about now. Can you guys knock this off? Rook: I know you're both doing your best. That doesn't mean you have to like each other. Rook: But it does mean you have to stop the constant fighting. Okay? Rook: I'm not tolerating this. You're both professionals and I expect you to act like it. Understood? Davrin: I hear you, Rook. But as a professional my duty is to keep an eye on him and Spite. Lucanis: And with darkspawn blood running through your veins, I'll be watching you. Professionally.