#Horrible Histories of the future

[hindbodes]

[horriblehistorieslandfill]

******CRASHES INTO YHE CEILING ****

EVERYONE SHUT UP I GOT THE TERRIBLE TUDORS CD

[beatheturtleandearthling]

Any ship name ideas?

So, if you've been keeping up with my blog or saw the thing in the note on my AO3 fic Fall Weight, you know im going to start writing the AU little me wrote with the HHAC to put on AO3 as a series. But one problem came up when little me added tons of shipping: What other ship names than Ratherine I can think of? Long story short: NOT A LOT😭. So, I'm going to leave the names of the characters in the fic: Savage Stone Age Caveman: Ugg (Shipped with the troublesome 20th century) Awful Egyptians Lady (OC): Isis (shipped with the rotten romans) Rotten Romans soldier = Wackus Bonkus (shipped with the awful egyptains)

Cut-Throat Celt warrior(name by @heabybepponsboy): Niall Ó Mocháini (Asexual)

Smashing Saxons lady: Matilda Withabuga (shipped with the smashing saxons dude)

Smashing Saxons warrior(name by @heabybepponsboy): Beorhtnoth the Hammer (shipped with the smashing saxons)

Vicious Viking(name by @heabybepponsboy): Ragnar Sverre (married to Ragatha, yes little me thought of the name RAGATHA) Measly Middle Ages peasant: Richard (shipped with terrible tudor lady)

Terrible Tudors Lady (high class): Catherine (shipped with measly middle ages) Roundhead officer(Canon name): Victory (Aroace)

Gorgeous Georgians lady: Georgiana (or Georgia) (Shipped with Vile Victorians) Vile Victorian commoner (sometimes called the rat prince for being rattus's adopt son/rattus being his father figure): Jabez (shipped with the gorgeous georgian lady) Frightful First World War British soldier: Blenkinsop (Shipped with the woeful second world war captain) Woeful Second World War captain: Douglas (Shipped with frightful first world war british soldier) Troublesome 20th Century hippie: Susan (shipped with Savage Stone Age Caveman)

[yakultii]

I feel like my death gon be somethin real stupid like accidentally dribbling into the power board socket

[midnanoire]

all non participating countries have their flags banned at eurovision

I'm well aware. I wrote that in the translation.

[breitzbachbea]

Happy valentines day to my best tumblr friend!

I AM BEST FWIEND?!

This is so absolutely and beyond lovely, so I am very sorry to return my love in the most heinous historical way possible (that's not true, I could have sent the Queen Mary II one):

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[innielove]

I've been very busy for the past week and a half, but im going to start making the requested sets this week 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[clowningaroundmars]

anyone else scared to death of the REAL obvious signs of control the younger generations are exhibiting lately

like im watching all these yt video essays on microblading, "looksmaxing", anti-aging routines, "signs that your partner is micro-cheating", teens and young adults' obsession with categorizing everything and turning everything into an aesthetic/trend (wtf was up with those "blueberry milk nails" like???), the existence of PURITEENS... i mean like

im not saying younger teens are developing OCD or anything but jfc this is all snowballing into scary symptoms lately. how tf are 14 year olds on tiktok doing a 19-step skincare routine "to prevent wrinkles"? YOU ARE FOURTEEN

[qqueenofhades]

I just feel like even if we all vote and Biden wins, Trump won't accept the loss, and eventually they'll just put him in anyway. And then there won't be another real election. Even if Biden wins and somehow is actually confirmed (which again, I think is unlikely) we're going to have to do this for 30 more years because of the SC, and that isn't at all sustainable.

All this isn't to say I won't vote but I just think people are being way too optimistic about what happens if Biden wins. I don't think him winning will keep Trump out or the horrible fascist future at bay.

Look, I get the fear. I do, I do... but this is also one of the times when you have to ask if it's actually telling you something true, or if it's just preying on that generalized feeling of doom to make everything seem hopeless even if we win again. And that is... there is absolutely no actual mechanism for Trump to be installed as president if Biden wins the Electoral College (since as we have repeatedly seen, the popular vote is immaterial). SCOTUS is horrible and evil and are trying to interfere as much ahead of time for Trump as they can, but part of that is because they can't simply issue an order for Biden to be removed and Trump to become God King By Fiat. That is not how it works. If Biden wins in November, he will be president until his term ends, he steps down, Kamala takes over, or anything else.

Trump tried a coup with all the entire overwhelming might of the US government as the sitting president last time; fortunately, it failed. Reforms to the Electoral Count Act have been made to prevent another January 6. The Department of Defense and the military are still under (and would be on another January 6) Biden's command, not Trump's. That's not to say that Trump won't try some shit with his insane cult followers, but he is just a late 70s conman from Queens out on bail and under sentence for a criminal trial, who is already the biggest and most disgraced loser and asshole in American political history. He is so desperate to cheat his way back into power because in a real sense, this IS the last-chance saloon for him. He can't put off the legal proceedings, however long they take, for another four years. He's losing his marbles at a rapid rate. I'm just saying: we don't know what or when, but there will be (and already have been) real consequences for him. That is why he is scrabbling so hard.

"Even if we vote, nothing matters and Trump will win anyway" is another of those insidious lies that works to make you feel as if the battle is endless and pointless and none of its victories matter. Of course it will not all be magically fixed forever if Biden wins. We will still have to figure some godforsaken fucking way to expand SCOTUS or kick Alito and Thomas off it. But we will have bought ourselves, our democracy, our country, and the world time to do that, and put another nail in Trump's coffin. That matters. It matters a lot.

Fascism wants to present itself as overwhelming, irresistible, inevitable, and ready to happen no matter what you do, and that's what your brain wants you to buy in now. But that's not the case, Trump is not inevitable or some all-powerful monolith (in fact, another of the debate takeaways seemed to be that Biden looked bad but people still hate Trump too much for it to really shift anything). He is a loser, a fraud, a conman, a liar, and a crook, and he WANTS you to fear him like an almighty god. Don't give him or the MAGAGOP the satisfaction.

Frankly, having to endure another four months of this might kill us all, and I know that we are tired and scared (me too). But IT IS NOT INEVITABLE THAT WE ARE DOOMED. Not at all. Let's hang onto that and tell that anxiety doom voice to shove it.

Hugs.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

One of the most tragic things about demons in KNY is that they’re explicitly bastardizations of their human selves, twisted or malformed into something actively malicious.

Akaza, for example, originally sought strength as a way to provide and protect for his loved ones;

His father, and Koyuki.

He hates the weak because — to him — the weak are the kind who don’t confront you head on and use underhanded tactics. They’re ugly, they lack forbearance, and give into desperation too easily;

They give into the voices in their heads that say they have to hurt others to appease themselves.

This includes the men who laughed at or scorned his ailing father, the members of the dojo who poisoned the well, and the version of himself who killed 67 people for it. Who bloodied his master’s beloved martial arts and the very memory of his father, Keizo, and Koyuki. He wanted to become strong to outgrow that kind of weakness, and he forgot that when he became a demon. His goal became an obsession with strength just for the sake of it, rather than to provide and protect.

This, I believe, is the reason why he offers demonization to — at the very least — people like Rengoku and Giyuu. A part of him recognizes a similar motivation in them, and (because the demon half of him believes his current self to be the culmination of his efforts) he offers them his supposed salvation. A way to continue seeking power far beyond what a human can manage.

His goal survives where his accessible memory died with his corruption;

He subconsciously incorporated his loved ones into his very being as a demon.

A thing that remains consistent across the demons in KNY, with the hand demon and his memory of running home while holding his brother’s hand, the temari demon and her desire to play, and so on so forth. It’s horribly tragic.

But the part that stands out to me is the fact that this seems to apply to Muzan Kibutsuji too, because his desire to live past his disease when he was human manifested into an obsession with immortality as a demon. It didn’t matter that he was healthier than he’d ever been, the sun could still harm him and so he wasn’t perfect just yet. That’s why he searched so desperately for a demon who would either survive the sun or could become a part of the twelve waxing or waning moons who would protect him while he looked.

Fascinatingly, both he and Upper Moon One (Kokushibo) overlook the immortality of the memento mori philosophy. They focused on how they specifically could live on, forgetting that their knowledge and their history could be passed down and used or remembered by the people after them. Maybe that’s why they hated Yorichii so much — because he looked at the future where he would be forgotten and thought that he would love nothing more then to be a simple footnote in this long, arduous journey to their victory.

The Ubayashiki and many of the demon slayers in between felt similarly, giving their lives for the cause and knowing that someone else would one day do what they sought to do… that the world would eventually heal from demons altogether.

[beatheturtleandearthling]

Thanks, mum!

so, me and Richard (who’s my husband lol) went go and visit my parents and my mum came up to me with a old shoebox. she opened it-and it had EVERY SINGLE THING LITTLE ME WROTE APART OF MY OWN HHAC “CINEMATIC UNIVERSE” (it’s mostly an AU lol) but it had TONS of ratherine (the ship between the Terrible Tudors girl (who little me named catherine) and the Measly Middle Ages dude (who little me named richard ironically) but one of the plot lines was a pregnancy arc for later on (I have no clue what happens next, little me left it off on a cliffhanger😭) and this was one of the “character designs” with catherine pregnant with baby prudence. I have no clue where it ends because again, little me left it on a cliffhanger. 😭 Ima be honest, ima def turn this into a fanfic series.

[the-alarm-system]

SYSTEMPUNK

Systempunk: A term or Subculture surrounding the liberation of plurals and the critique of psychiatry. We're outspoken on how the psych community mistreats us and how we will force the breaking of the chains that continuously fakeclaim or harm us whenever we do something singlets/psychiatrist do not like. We have been silenced and told that if we are open, it is a sign of us lying. We have been forced to follow the strict guidelines of the dsm5 in order to avoid being told that our experiences are false. We have been forced into psychiatric wards and abused because we are not singlet. We have been the face of the liars for too long, plural liberation is something we must push. The future is plural.

ANTI ENDOS AND RADQUEERS DO NOT TOUCH.

Meaning of the flag:

Brown and Black: The POC-bodied systems who are put down by both the community and the society around them. POC-bodied systems who have had their diagnosis's rejected due to their race. POC-bodied systems who have a cultural origin or connection and are hurt because of it. POC-bodied systems who are appropriated by other systems and are not listened to. POC-bodied systems who are hurt by the white dominated psychiatric system. POC-bodied systems who deserve to be heard and understood.

Purple stripe: Endogenic Solidarity, allyship, love, liberation. Endogenic systems are continuously harmed by antis who remain uncritical of psychiatry, are against the liberation of plurals, and deny a plural future in order to push singlethood onto others. Endogenic systems are also used in a lot of fakeclaiming content made by singlets and psychiatrist despite the research that supports their existence. It's because singlet society hates plurals and hates any form of existence we have. Love your endogenic siblings. They are the diverse experiences of plurality, they have helped us through so much.

Yellow Stripe: Disordered and traumagenic system solidarity and liberation. Disordered systems are horribly abused by the psych system, we make up most of those hospitalized and we are put down as too crazy to make our own decisions. Even if our existence is from trauma or a disorder, we shouldn't be forced into a singlet cure, we deserve autonomy.

Pink stripe: Abolition of psychiatric wards used to abuse us, hide us away, and silence us. Our autonomy is stolen from them, we deserve resources that help us instead of force us into a place that fucking hates us.

White stripe: Psych-critical beliefs or Anti-psych beliefs, despite their differences we still stand together against the harms of the psychiatric system. ACAB included in this.

Barbed wire: Anti-fakeclaim culture, systems deserve to be believed. Pro-plural protection. Protect another no matter your beliefs, cops and psych wards fucking hate us and want us dead, protect those you love. protect the closeted, protect all systems.

Fangs: Fight for your existence, be loud about it, write essays, make art, do whatever you can. Force plural liberation down the throats of singlets. Force the future to be plural.

Ampersand: PLURAL PRIDE, PLURAL ACCEPTANCE, PLURAL LIBERATION, PLURAL HISTORY, PLURAL FUTURE

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.

[jamieenthusiast]

I yap about Forever + Falling with you

Forever being the end song to murder drones- and its lyrics being what they are

gives me the impression Murder Drones was a big love story about opening up and trust hidden under mounds of comedy and violence

And I dont mean that it ACTUALLY is, its more just.. a silly little feeling I get when i listen to it

Theres something about the song thats so... cozy? So like, softly spoken. A very hummable melody from one lover to another.

also falling with you, like what the fuck

never in my life have I felt a track was so carefully crafted- and prepared, carved out for two specific characters in one specific moment.

She made the choice to sacrifice herself- for him. In her eyes it was the end and if at the end of everything she could guarantee the life of one person it was going to be the one she loves, she didnt know what would be at the other end,

The thing is, he wanted to be there for her. Even when they're knocking on deaths door, he needs to be there.

Its like trust fall exercise, except the focus isnt on 'catch me' cause they'd never let the other fall,

its about making sure they dont fall when youre not looking. It hurts both parties, to crash without warning and to see the one you love fall

I *love* that they dont speak here. She looks to the side, shifting her glances before looking at him.

An unspoken guilt ridden apology.

The response he chooses?

forgiveness,

Even if the result of her actions hurt him- her intentions were good and meant to be entirely in favor of him

And in this moment, with their current history and with a yet to be seen future, he forgives her,

Cause at the very least, they're together again. He could save her.

And her look just, screams thank you to me.

Thank you for forgiving me, saving me-

for everything :) /ref

lighthearted preparation for whats to come :)

legitimately, what she says, reiterating herself "die mad bitch"

knowing theyre heading into the end of the world to prevent it?? Theyre going off to the fucking trenches together, key word this time being together

And then the horrible unexpected !

Uzi is ripped away from N, confronted with what her home has become, the universe is practically screaming at her to fix it, pushing her towards the end without mercy

But shes not doing it alone, she cant do it alone, not again, not this time

And he wouldnt let her

The universe could endlessly attempt to wield its cosmic grasp to push these two apart but itd never work, itd never end with them alone

Their love- their pure devotion to each other,

is so celestial in its own right

Not super related to my ramble but i love that in them becoming official (I will not call this a confession, N definitely confessed the previous episode)

Uzis so.. wagh.. her eyes.

That trademark look of panic or worry- I mean what would you expect from the black sheep of the colony? Being excluded on the daily, left to your own abandoned devices?? The reassurance she was requesting just, ughh.. my heart...

and the way. He fucking looks at her

Its so, soft. He knows she has not a thing to worry about. His heart is completely and utterly hers. Where most would die for their love, he lives for her.

The universe would be dammed to ever try and separate pure unbridled love like this ever again

ERM< ANYWAY that was super gay ew idk why im like. obsessed with their relatinshuio ahhajfhdgjbsjhfm someone blow me up