#I mean you don’t get a better spread than this folks

[solarpunkwarlock]

Ways to Live in Direct Opposition to Capitalism

I am by no means an expert in any of these things I’m gonna talk about, so keep that in mind! I am just making a compilation of things I know of that we can do to lessen the stranglehold the capitalist lifestyle has on us while enriching our lives, our surroundings, and the lives of others. Please add anything I miss or correct anything I may be getting wrong! Anyway here goes!

Use what you have, fix what’s you can, make what you can, accept from others, thrift what you can, and finally purchase as a last resort.

This is advice I have seen float around here a couple of times that can apply to a lot of things including clothing, furniture, food, and more besides. It’s meant to be done roughly in that order as it applies to what you’re wanting/needing/doing. It’s about preventing waste, promoting self-capability, having a heightened reliance on your community, and consciously rejecting the ingrained habit many of us have to just purchase things or services.

Here’s where you can read about growing an indoor garden!

Here’s where you can read about sewing things yourself!

Here’s an online site for giving and receiving items for free!

Here is where you can find a local Mutual Aid to get things from, learn skills from, give do, volunteer for, etc. (in the U.S.)

Be politically active! (from a U.S. perspective)

Vote for every election. Know your representatives and those who will be competing in the next election. Vote without ignorance and without falling for unfounded claims. While operating within the system that actively oppresses us will not bring about the future we want, it can serve as damage control (preventing worse candidates from taking office) and it can potentially create a national atmosphere more open to change.

Here’s a good article about getting more involved in the U.S. political process.

Here’s a site that will show you how to register to vote, when and where elections are held, and more!

Here’s good advice on finding protests in your city!

Here’s some readings on unionizing! It’s your legal right to unionize!

Here’s a more user friendly site for learning about unions!

Be active within your community!

Developing strong, motivated, capable, knowledgeable, and inclusive communities is the ultimate way to combat the relentless and bleak present and future. When you’ve worked on the things above and have gotten good at it (or even if you haven’t gotten good at it yet), start spreading what you know and what you can do with others!

Give your neighbors, coworkers, and friends some of the vegetables you’ve grown.

Invite your community members to volunteer events.

Talk to folks about how to vote, when you’re doing it, etc.

Take part in Mutual Aids to teach what you’ve learned or whatever you may be an expert in! Invite neighbors, friends, and coworkers when you take part in the Mutual Aid!

Accept your community. Take them for who and what they are. Discrimination is the enemy of cooperation. You have much more in common with everyone in your community than a single billionaire or corporation. We’re all passengers on this spaceship earth.

Do it one step at a time!

Obviously we can’t do all of these things at once. Do what you can when you can, and you’ll start to notice real change in your life!

Our online communities where we talk about our visions and hopes are fantastic, but they have little impact if we don’t actually get up and do the real work that change requires.

Want to be better, and keep hope for the future!

Harbor and nourish that desire to be a better person and to be the change you want to see in the world. You need to be hungry for a better future if you plan to make it through the rough times when everything feels pointless and without hope. Reach out to others when you’re down, and be someone others can lean on when their lives get hard.

That’s it! Please interact with this, spread it to others, and add your own thoughts and ideas! It’s important that we do the real work to get the change we crave!

[blackenedsnow]

Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Katie Camero

When the COVID pandemic began, there was lots of chatter about the possibility of being simultaneously infected with other common viruses like the flu and RSV. We quickly learned that, yes, it’s absolutely possible for viruses to circulate at the same time—remember the tripledemic? But can you actually get more than one infection, say, COVID and RSV, at the same time?

The short answer is…yes. However, experts still don’t fully understand what happens when you have a couple viruses at once. Fortunately, they have some ideas in mind, but before we get into it, know this: On their own, each virus can wreak havoc on a person’s health, and that’s especially true for babies, older adults, or immunocompromised folks. And so it goes without saying that together, they can, at the very least, be pretty unpleasant to deal with.

Below, you’ll find everything there is to know about COVID and RSV co-infections and how to avoid experiencing this double whammy.

What happens if you get COVID and RSV at the same time? In a 2020 meta-analysis of 30 studies, researchers found that RSV was the most common viral co-infection among hospitalized COVID patients. What does this mean for you in practice? Well, “you’re probably not going to feel so great,” Sabrina Assoumou, MD, MPH, an infectious disease doctor at Boston Medical Center, tells SELF. But how this co-infection affects you really depends on your age and health status, she adds. For example, research shows that children under five were more likely to be admitted to the ICU when they dealt with COVID and RSV at the same time. Older people and those with weakened immune systems also have greater odds of severe outcomes like this, Dr. Assoumou says, but like we mentioned, it’s not totally clear whether a co-infection is guaranteed to make everyone feel twice as bad. “The answer is we don’t know,” Pablo Murcia, a virologist and professor with the University of Glasgow in Scotland, tells SELF. “But I assume that in certain cases they will cause more disease severity. And in others they won't.”

In fact, it’s probably more likely that you’ll feel the wrath of one virus more than the other thanks to a phenomenon called viral interference. When your cells are occupied by two viruses, one of them initiates a response that essentially weakens the other and blocks it from making copies of itself, Dr. Murcia explains. When he analyzed this in a lab, he found that RSV’s immune response is actually pretty good at overpowering that of SARS-CoV-2.

In theory, that might sound like the better option, but RSV should not be underestimated. A 2023 CDC study found that older adults were worse off (that is, more likely to go to the intensive care unit or need ventilation) when hospitalized for RSV than if they were admitted for COVID or influenza. RSV can feel like a typical cold for relatively healthy people—think stuffy nose, cough, and sneezing—but it can cause serious issues like pneumonia in others, particularly babies and older adults. Plus, RSV doesn’t have specific treatments like the flu or COVID. Instead, you generally have to ride your symptoms out with the help of some over-the-counter meds or, if you’re in the hospital, supportive care like oxygen or IV fluids for hydration.

Of course, SARS-CoV-2 continues to spread and change, so it could evolve into a version that’s capable of overcoming RSV’s competitive advantage, Dr. Murcia says. And this could be all kinds of bad. Although both viruses share many symptoms, COVID can leave you with a laundry list of complications, including long COVID, that you don’t get with RSV. Experts don’t yet know whether co-infections increase your chances of getting long COVID, but it’s well-documented that repeat exposures to COVID certainly can.

How to avoid getting COVID and RSV at the same time There’s no surefire way to prevent getting any illness, let alone two at once. But there are a handful of things you can do to lower your chances of infection—and we’re starting off strong with vaccines. Yes, both of these viruses have their own highly effective shots that can reduce the likelihood of you getting sick, and, more importantly, chip away at your odds of hospitalization and death.

Everyone 75 years and older who hasn’t already been vaccinated should get the RSV vaccine (which the FDA approved in 2023), according to the CDC, as well as people ages 60 to 74 with health issues like lung or heart problems that increase their risk of severe disease. Pregnant folks should also get this shot during their third trimester, which will protect their baby from severe RSV for the first six months after they’re born. “This is a good time for RSV in terms of things we can actually do to improve outcomes,” Dr. Assoumou says.

And of course, we have the COVID vaccines, which were recently updated to target some of the newer SARS-CoV-2 strains floating around. Everyone six months of age and older should get any of the two mRNA shots (Pfizer or Moderna), while those ages 12 and up can get either of those or the protein-based vaccine, Novavax. And remember: You should receive your updated shot even if you’ve been vaccinated or had COVID before. “The goal of vaccination is to decrease the chances of severe disease, hospitalization, and death,” Dr. Assoumou says. “If today someone gets COVID and they’re at home with the sniffles, that’s a victory for me.”

Some other classic infection prevention to keep in mind:

Stay home when you’re sick, and encourage others in your life to do the same. Wear a well-fitting mask in public, especially in crowded indoor settings like the subway or in holiday crowds. Prioritize clean air by running purifiers indoors or opening windows. Or better yet, gather outside if that’s possible. Wash your hands often, please. If you’re not wearing a mask, cover your coughs and sneezes with a tissue (or your elbow—not your hand! —if you can’t reach one fast enough). Take an at-home COVID test when you feel sick, or go to an urgent care where you can be tested for COVID, RSV, and influenza at the same time.

“Do your part. Get your vaccine—it’s not too late,” Dr. Assoumou says.

[zenkindoflove]

Taste of You - Eris x Male!OC Oneshot

Rating: NSFW, E

Status: Oneshot, ~2,200 words

Summary: Eris and his mate Alexius are on a tour of Autumn. Alexius is feeling cooped up in the carriage and Eris has an idea of how to release some tension. Eris x Male!OC. PWP. Eris x Alexius. Erixius

A/N: This little brain worm hit me. I, of course, have been influenced by the Bridgerton carriage scene like everyone else, and I wanted to do my own rendition for my boys. This is a bit filthy, just so you know.

Shamelessly tagging you if you are an Erixius reader or liked the post I made about writing this fic: @crazy-ache, @lucienarcheron, @teddyhoneybear, @animezinglife, @clockwork-ashes, @castielspelvis , @summerbummin , @works-of-heart , @julesofvolterra , @the-darkestminds , @secret-third-thing , @tilseptemberends , @constantsins , @comeonladiesitstime2yearn

READ ON AO3 or read under the cut | Masterlist for more Erixius

Alexius peeked out from behind the carriage curtain to look out the window again. He sighed. Still endless autumnal woods. He was hoping they would pass through an open valley so he could see the treetops down below, but they had been on this road for three hours now which was flanked on both sides by rows and rows of tree trunks.

“Is all of this really necessary?” he groaned. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just winnow to each town.”

Eris sighed dramatically, “I’ve told you a hundred times. The pageantry of the carriage passing through the countryside is a part of tradition for the farmers and small village folk. They expect to see the carriage when the High Lord is on tour.”

Alexius snatched the curtain back, the carriage dimming once more.

“Are you going to be pissy this entire trip?” Eris asked, sitting with his legs crossed as he held his nose up at Alexius in stern judgment.

“You know how I hate riding in these things,” Alexius snapped. “It’s claustrophobic. I don’t see why I can’t ride on one of the horses alongside.”

“Because you are the High Lord’s mate,” Eris growled. “You do not lower yourself to riding beside the carriage. It’s important, more than ever, for you to be seen alongside me, always.”

Alexius rolled his eyes, although he understood that Eris was right. The more conservative parts of Autumn were not happy that their High Lord was refusing to marry their eligible daughters. Autumn had never had a High Lord who had a male consort sitting next to the crown, and certainly not one who he was mated to. It was Eris’ mission, rather than to hide Alexius away, to parade him around the court and show everyone just how serious he was about his mate serving in what he said was Alexius’ rightful place. This tour was the prequel to the elaborate affair we had planned for their mating ceremony and wedding. Eris refused to live in the shadows. Which Alexius loved him for, of course. But it still didn’t mean he appreciated being locked in a cramped box all day as it bumped up and down along the rocky roads.

Eris leaned in close, his nose grazing the shell of Alexius’ ear. His signature scent of cloves and campfire filled Alexius’ nose as Alexius sucked in a shaky breath. Goosebumps prickled along his side, and he tilted his head to allow Eris further access.

“I think you’re tense,” he said. “You have a lot of pent-up frustrations that you need to release.”

“Perhaps,” Alexius replied, leaning back into his seat, and extending his arm behind Eris’ back. Eris’ breath tickled his neck as he ran his face down to Alexius’ shoulder. “You have been awfully busy on this tour. You’ve barely shown me any attention.”

Eris bit down on the muscle of Alexius’ shoulder, pulling aside his tunic to give him better access. Alexius clamped his teeth around his bottom lip, spreading his thighs to get comfortable. He had a feeling he knew where this might go.

Eris sucked his way up Alexius’ neck again as he ran his hand down his chest. Alexius was instantly hard, his cock always a heated glance away from stiffening when he was in his mate’s presence.

“Have I been ignoring my mate?” Eris purred, licking his tongue against the lobe of Alexius’ ear. “You know I have a lot of duties. I can’t spend my time trying to seduce you.”

“Who says I need much seduction,” Alexius replied. And Eris moved his hand lower, gripping Alexius’ erection through his trousers.

“It appears you don’t,” he chuckled darkly. “You want to tell your High Lord why you’re so hard in his carriage right now.”

Alexius gripped onto the bar above his head as Eris stroked him over his pants. His brain was fuzzy with the sensations, both against his shaft and Eris sucking on his pulse point, hard enough that he knew it would leave a mark.

“Maybe it’s like you said. I’ve been pent-up for days with no one to touch me.”

“Curious,” Eris said as he undid the laces of Alexius’ trousers. “I distinctly remember fucking you not two days ago.”

Alexius was enraptured at the way Eris pulled his cock out, stroking him immediately. A bead of precum leaked out of his tip, his foreskin spreading the lubrication around.

“You’ll have to refresh my memory,” Alexius panted, throwing his head back as Eris nibbled his ear once more.

Eris’ voice was as smooth as silk as he whispered in Alexius’ ear, continuing to stroke him in a steady rhythm. “What I remember is flipping you ass up in that dreadful bed with those low thread-count sheets.”

Alexius barked out a laugh and Eris laughed with him, his chuckle bouncing off his skin. They had complained about that for days at their last stop.

Eris stroked him faster, squeezing him harder as he growled in Alexius’ ear. “And then I rimmed your ass until you were begging me to fuck you.”

Alexius moaned as he bucked his hips, remembering the way that it felt as Eris licked him greedily. Eris loved his ass. He loved squeezing it and spanking it and he especially loved running his tongue against his hole, teasing him until he was dripping all over those terrible sheets.

“You were so eager for it,” his soft lips pressed against Alexius’ jaw as he sped up his pace. “You’re always so eager for my cock, aren’t you, mate?”

Alexius gripped the bar harder, “I love feeling your cock inside of me.”

“And you loved it that night too,” Eris continued. “When I pressed my head inside of you, you pushed back to take all of me. Like the desperate little slut that you are.”

“Fuck,” Alexius groaned, throwing his head back against the wall of the carriage. A surge of electric pleasure shot through him, centering at the base of his cock as he felt his shaft twitch in anticipation. “Gods, Eris, I’m so close.”

Eris immediately dropped his head into Alexius’ lap, his tongue lapping at the underside of his cock as he pounded his fist around it faster. He sucked his head between his lips, just in time to catch his load, swallowing the hot streams that he shot into the back of his throat. Eris always liked to taste him, finding any excuse he could. Alexius palmed the back of his head, his fingers gripping the red strands he had grown out. He thrusted into Eris’ mouth as his orgasm simmered down to a low hum.

Eris sat up again, looking all too pleased with himself. He leaned forward and kissed Alexius, diving his tongue inside so that Alexius could taste his lingering flavor too. He gripped Eris by his neck, a new rush of arousal flowing through him. He took over the dominance of the kiss, pushing Eris back into the corner of the carriage as he climbed on top of him. Straddling his thighs. He gripped Eris’ neck as he devoured his mouth, their lips and tongues lashing at one another. He could feel Eris’ large erection pressing into his thigh and when he pulled back, Eris gnashed his teeth at him as he hissed in frustrated desire.

Alexius dropped to his knees on the carriage floor, kneeling in front of Eris.

“Does my High Lord not like me on my knees?” he asked, impressing coyness into his tone.

“It depends on what you intend to do down there,” Eris spread his legs wide so that Alexius could settle between his thighs. Alexius traced the curve of Eris’ erection with the tip of his finger, earning him a grumbling purr from deep in Eris’ chest.

“Only to serve you, my High Lord,” he replied, unlacing the front of his breeches. Eris lifted his hips as Alexius pulled down, Eris’ cock springing out of the confines. Alexius always took a moment to admire his cock. It was the prettiest cock he had ever seen. Girthy and long, with a curved tip that hit him in all the right spots when he pounded into him. And sometimes, when Alexius fucked him, he liked how it felt heavy and hard in his hand while he jerked him off in tandem with his thrusts.

“How would you like me to serve you?” he asked, flicking his tongue out to lick at the curve under Eris’ throbbing head. Eris rested one of his arms across the backrest of their carriage seat and grabbed the bar with his other. He stared back at him with possessive power in his eyes.

“With your throat,” Eris’ chest rose and fell with his words. “I want you to take me deep, until you can’t take me anymore.”

Alexius didn’t need to be told twice. He sank his lips around Eris’ massive cock, taking him as far into his throat as he could before he felt himself gag and tears prick his eyes. He pulled back up, sucking Eris with vigor as he stroked him at his base. He bobbed up and down, descending further each time to ease him back into his throat. He focused on relaxing, opening himself up to more of Eris. He felt his throat constrict around his tip and Eris sucked in a breath. So far, Eris had remained still, keeping his hands high as he let Alexius set the pace and rhythm. Alexius knew that wouldn’t do, so he slowed down his movements, making sure his tongue ran along his cock in a slow tease to entice him.

It worked because soon he felt Eris’ hand at the base of his scalp as he snarled through clenched teeth, “You’re being cheeky aren’t you, mate?”

Alexius continued his slow movements, coaxing Eris to take control and fuck his face.

Eris gripped the hair at the back of his head tightly, just enough that the roots burned. He then pushed his head lower and brought him back up again until Alexius moved with his pace. Eris lifted his hips off the seat, bucking into his mouth. Soon they were moving at a frantic pace and Alexius could feel Eris losing control.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Eris said with a breathy sigh. “Gods, no one has ever sucked me off like you.”

 He held on tight to Eris’ thighs as he bobbed his head faster, sucking Eris’ cock like his cum was nectar from the gods themselves. And for him, it was. He used his hand for the final strokes, flicking his tongue over his tip in a way that he knew would push Eris over the edge.

“Fuck,” Eris cried out as he pushed Alexius’ head deeper into his lap. Alexius took all of him in as Eris’ cum filled his mouth. The thick fluid slid down his throat, and when he felt the last spurt, he held it against his tongue.

Eris was disheveled, panting with his arms and legs spread wide open as he gripped onto the walls of the carriage. Alexius crawled up his body, urging him to open his mouth with a nudge of his nose. Eris did so eagerly, awaiting Alexius’ deposit. Alexius plunged his tongue into Eris’ mouth, Eris’ cum coating them both as Eris groaned and quivered in abject pleasure.

After they both swallowed, Eris grabbed Alexius to pull him into a fierce kiss. Alexius sank into Eris’ lap, feeling every bit of him that he could touch.

The carriage rolled over a large bump, jolting them in the seat and Alexius was tossed sideways, landing on the floor of the carriage.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” The carriage driver called from the front.

Alexius burst into laughter at the way Eris’ eyes widened, as if he just remembered where they were.

“It’s fine,” Eris shouted back. “Try to avoid those next time.”

“Yes, my High Lord,” the carriage driver replied. “Only half a mile more, and we will arrive.”

Alexius was still laughing as he pulled himself back into the seat. They both tucked themselves back into their pants and started to lace their breeches back up.

“You seem happier,” Eris remarked as he straightened his clothes.

Alexius sighed as he looked around the carriage. The curtains were made of the finest, burgundy fabric, draping over the walls and the windows. The seats were black leather with elegant, embroidered upholstery decorating the arms and the headrest. He pulled back the curtain again and hung it on the hook so that it would stay open, revealing the passing view. It really was an exquisite carriage.

“I’ve decided that riding in the carriage isn’t so bad,” he replied, turning his head to flash his dazzling smile at his mate.

Eris rolled his eyes and shook his head, but a hint of a smile remained on his face as he returned Alexius’ gaze. “Good, because we are visiting 5 more towns after this one.”

Alexius groaned as he collapsed against Eris’ shoulder, snuggling in close as their joyful laughs bounced off the walls of the carriage.

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Have a snippet of Gone Away, my love letter to uncle Wayne, featuring eight-year-old Eddie and the debut of a very tiny fabulous-haired friend.

(This was not written with any particular ship in mind, obviously, since they’re little kids. But if you want to imagine it as the elementary school beginnings of That Popular Ship, you’re certainly more than welcome to. 😉🫶)

***

Wayne gets out of work a little earlier than usual on the Friday before Thanksgiving. He was hoping the weather would be nice enough to take Eddie to the playground, but the temperature has dropped since that morning and a steady drizzle of rain is turning everything damp and gray. Well, never mind, he thinks; they can invite Grace to come over early instead. Maybe she’ll make them her famous hot chocolate. He has no idea what she puts in it, but it’s addicting.

He’s hunched into his jacket as he heads toward the school, still idly daydreaming about hot chocolate, and he almost walks right past a small figure huddled pitiful and alone in the parent pickup area until a little noise catches his attention. It’s the unmistakeable noise of someone crying and trying to hide it.

Wayne turns to look. It’s a little boy, smaller than Eddie, with luxuriously thick brown hair. It’s so fluffy and nice that Wayne actually does a double take. The kid’s got more hair than Eddie does. Good thing it isn’t curly like Ed’s; combing it would be a nightmare. His face is pale under a scattering of freckles, and his eyes are red-rimmed and so sad they break Wayne’s heart a bit. “Hey, little one,” he says softly to the boy, “whatcha doin’ out here all by yourself?”

The boy sniffles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Nobody came to get me,” he says quietly. “I’ve been waiting and waiting but nobody came. I’m cold.”

“Let’s get you inside.” Wayne holds out his hand, and the little boy immediately takes hold, following him into the school. “They got an after school thing where you can wait, so’s you don’t have to sit out here in the rain. I’m pickin’ up my boy from there now.” He leads the kid over to the teacher in charge. “Found this little guy out front. He said no one came to get him. I reckoned he’d be better off in here with y’all than sittin’ there all by his lonesome.”

“Your mother hasn’t come yet?” the teacher asks, and when the boy shakes his head no, she sighs. “Janet,” she calls across the room to the other teacher on duty, “can you try calling the Harringtons again? They were supposed to be here forty minutes ago.” She turns back to Wayne. “Thanks for bringing him in. Honestly,” her voice lowers, taking on a here’s some juicy gossip sort of tone, “they’re always late, by now he should know not to bother waiting outside.”

Wayne frowns at her. What is she spreading stories about this poor baby’s folks for? He’s about to tell her it’s none of his business when he hears Eddie shout.

“Leave him alone!“

His eyes snap instantly to the sound. Eddie is standing protectively in front of the little Harrington boy, glaring down a tiny blond kid who’s got a smug smirk on his face. “Why are you so mean to everybody?” Eddie demands.

The smarmy kid shrugs. “I’m not being mean, I’m just telling the truth. Steve’s a crybaby.”

“He is not. And you are mean.” Eddie crosses his arms, scowling, and a look of surprise crosses the blond boy’s face. He instinctively takes a couple steps back. Wayne doesn’t blame him; that scowl reminds him a bit too much of his brother, and he hopes he’s not about to see a display of the temper that went with it. “I’ve seen you,” Eddie continues, stepping closer, as the blond kid backs away even more. “Every day I see you being nasty to someone. What’s wrong with you?” He doesn’t quite make a fist, not exactly, but he sort of flexes his fingers experimentally and that’s enough to tip the little blond punk over the edge.

He bolts, shouting “I’m telling my mother about you!” over his shoulder, scurrying to safety next to the teacher. Eddie ignores him. His face softens into a friendly smile as he turns to the Harrington boy— Steve, according to the nasty blond— who is staring at him in openmouthed astonishment.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, and Steve manages to nod. “I’m okay,” he says after a moment. “That… that was really cool. Thanks.”

Wayne breathes out an incredulous laugh. He’s never seen this much drama at the day care before. The teachers must eat it up like daytime soaps. He did notice the gossipy one didn’t make any sort of attempt to stop the boys from arguing. Thank the lord Eddie didn’t actually hit the little punk, no matter how much he probably deserved it. They might’ve actually brought out the popcorn instead of breaking up a fight.

A weary looking woman in a prim lilac pantsuit has arrived; the nasty kid’s mother, Wayne guesses, by the way the blond races over to her, babbling and making exaggerated faces and pointing at Eddie. Why, that little snitch. Wayne pastes a pleasant smile on his face and walks over to introduce himself to the woman. He drops some innocuous nonsense about ‘kids these days’ before mentioning rather pointedly that he’s glad his boy is brave enough to stand up to bullies. The woman looks at her son, then back at Wayne, who meets her gaze steadily. She’s clearly putting two and two together. She mumbles something about letting his father know, as she hastily gathers up her son and departs.

He already knows the kid won’t get in trouble; that kind never does. But at least his mama won’t go blaming Eddie for the trouble her own son caused. Shaking his head, Wayne turns to collect his nephew, more than ready to get out of this place and relax at home.

Eddie and Steve are sitting at a table together, chattering away and building something huge and complicated out of Lego, when he calls out, “C’mon Ed, let’s get going.”

Eddie rushes over to tug at his sleeve. “Uncle Wayne,” he whispers, “can we take Steve home? He said his mom forgot to come get him.”

“That’s real nice of you, little darlin’, but no, we can’t take him. I can’t just take a kid that don’t belong to me. Imagine what his mama would say if he was gone when she got here.” He looks over at Steve. The boy’s despondent face tugs at his heartstrings for sure, but Wayne knows the name Harrington and he’s not about to get himself accused of kidnapping by that guy. Poor kid’s just gonna have to wait.

Eddie has other plans, though. “Then can we stay with him til she comes? Please, uncle Wayne? He’s so sad. I don’t wanna leave him here all by himself.”

Wayne sighs. This boy is giving him gray hair already, he can feel it. “Lemme check with the teachers. If it’s okay with them, we can stay a bit longer.”

The teachers don’t seem to mind. So Eddie and Steve go back to their Lego, and Wayne settles down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee and the newspaper. Other parents stop in to collect their kids over the next hour, but still nobody comes for little Steve, and soon he and Eddie are the last ones left. Wayne yawns, standing up to stretch. Maybe he should’ve just taken the kid home after all. This is getting ridiculous.

“Uncle Wayne.” Eddie’s tugging at his sleeve again.

“You ready to go now?” Wayne yawns again.

“Um. No. Can you help?” Eddie whispers. “Steve’s crying again and I can’t get him to feel better.”

He shakes his head. Where did this kid get such a big heart? Must take after his mama that way. “What d’you want me to do, little darlin’?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could read to us?” Eddie’s big brown eyes plead with him. “I always feel better when you read to me.”

Now how is he supposed to say no to that?

“Alright then,” he agrees, and next thing he knows he’s sitting on the floor on a pile of cushions in the ‘book nook’ with two little boys leaning up against him, one on either side. Eddie insisted that Steve choose the story, and he’d picked one called Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. By the time Wayne finished the first chapter, Steve had stopped crying, and he’d crawled into Wayne’s lap and snuggled down and didn’t seem inclined to move. Eddie didn’t appear to mind; he simply reached over and took the book, holding it out and turning the pages as Wayne read so he could hold onto Steve. Wayne rubbed the smaller boy’s back, just the same way he did to soothe Eddie when he was upset. It worked the same way, too. Steve was half asleep by the end of the second chapter.

He’s midway through chapter five when at last the classroom door bursts open and a frazzled-looking young woman hurries in. She dashes over to the teachers, frantically telling them a story complete with wild hand gestures.

Eddie gently nudges Steve. “Is that your mommy?” he whispers.

Steve yawns. “No, that’s Anja. She’s our housekeeper.”

“What’s a housekeeper?”

“She cleans my room and stuff,” Steve informs him, and Eddie looks impressed. He doesn’t ask any more questions though, and Steve breathes out a tiny sigh of what Wayne is fairly sure is relief. Lord have mercy, he thinks, there’s an awful lot going on beneath the surface here.

The young woman hurries to his side now, holding out her hand to Steve. “Your mom asked me to come get you, liebchen. Sorry you had to wait so long.”

Steve ignores her hand, reaching for his jacket instead. “Where is she this time?” he asks in a resigned voice, sounding much older than his can’t-possibly-be-more-than-seven years.

Anja shrugs. “Ach, you know they never tell me where they’re going. Let’s get you home, ja?” She turns to Wayne. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him.”

“It was a pleasure, ma’am,” Wayne says honestly. “He’s a good boy.”

Steve shyly thanks him, then turns to Eddie. “Hey, um, is it okay if I look for you at recess on Monday?” he asks. “Maybe we could play together?” He sounds timid, afraid of rejection maybe, but Eddie gives him a big smile. “Sure!” he says immediately, easily. “I’ll be over by the tetherball poles, okay?” And Steve grins back, nodding happily.

In the car, driving home at last, Wayne says casually to Eddie, “So how long you been friends with the Harrington boy?”

“I just met him today,” is Eddie’s unexpected answer. Wayne snorts a laugh. Honestly, nothing about his boy should surprise him anymore.

***

[c-optimistic]

hi, are you worried about the current president and the trajectory of our politics? me too! so here’s some unsolicited advice regarding the legal aspect of the next four years:

1) donate to legal non profits if you have the money! I don’t mean the big ones though, I’m talking the small ones. Legal aid in your city, your state’s chapter of the disability rights network, organizations focused on specific legal issues like immigration and reentry for those coming out of incarceration. if they have volunteer opportunities, volunteer! most of these legal aid orgs are super strapped for cash and don’t quite have the workforce needed to assist everyone in need. they help individuals and they do little litigation (tho when they do, it’s to help as many people as possible—impact litigation as it were)

2) spread the work of those big legal nonprofits. ACLU, SPLC, etc. Donate particularly if you live in a red state. Remember that their work is meant to help large swaths of people, not really individuals.

3) recognize that law is meaningless and as hard as civil rights attorneys work, they’re not going to be the change we need. This means, get organized. Within your community there are loads of programs and resources that help a wide range of folks. Join those efforts. For example: feeding the hungry, finding housing for those who need it, helping those with a record obtain employment, etc.

4) get involved in local politics. local judges, prosecutors, representatives, etc. Be extremely careful about elections for judges, at both the local and state wide level. And don’t fall for the ‘progressive prosecutor’ shit.

5) recognize that we have enormous power. sure it’s doom and gloomy, but as long as we show up, as long as we try, as long as we recognize that doing the work isn’t just saying we’re all fucked and blaming each other but focusing on how we can make today a little bit better than yesterday, we can do anything. remember than no politician will save us, that we have to do it ourselves.

[edges-of-night]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could write something about the lotr characters meeting a modern!reader that starts crushing on them once they show up in middle earth? (Preferably the 4 hobbits) Happy writings!

I hope I did your request justice! Enjoy!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Sure enough, Frodo had heard the gossip about a strange human showing up in the Shire – not only one of the big folk, but dressed especially strangely, and talking even weirder. Being the gentleman that he is, Frodo would not investigate or snoop around any further than that. Surely that human had enough helpful hobbits around them by now… Little did he know that nothing could be further from the truth!

Your time in this strange place had been nothing but miserable. No electricity, no internet, indeed nowhere to charge your phone – it wasn’t like your navigation apps were of any help out here, recognising absolutely nothing – but still you dreaded losing your only connection to home. None of the people here could tell you where you were. They looked like D’n’D halflings, with their pointy ears and short bodies, but all they did was pretend they didn’t understand you or shoo you away with whatever tool they were holding.

When your phone eventually died, you broke down crying in the grove you had been wandering. Covering your face with your hands, you sobbed with your back against the tree. It should be cruel that you were so lonely in such a beautiful place…

Somewhen, you heard light – well, as light as these big-fooded halflings could walk – steps coming toward you. A polite and quiet voice asked, “Excuse me… Can I help you?”

You looked up with a sniff. Before you stood a halfling with the brightest and biggest blue eyes you have ever seen. He carried a book under his arm. His words and demeanour were careful, as though he tried explicitly not to scare you.

“I don’t know,” you said truthfully. As soon as the words left your mouth, a comforting warmth spread in your chest – you had already given up hope of ever finding a friendly face here! You broke into a relieved laugh.

“I thought I heard someone crying,” the halfling smiled with a wave of his book. “And from the sound of your voice, you could use a glass of water, couldn’t you?”

You rubbed your eyes. “That’d be great, yeah. Haven’t had something to drink for almost a day now. I guess. I don’t know how time works here.”

“It’s the twelfth of July,” the halfling said gently, huddling down in front of you.

You sucked in a breath – such blue eyes could only mean you were in some kind of fantasy world! “The same day I left home,” you uttered, hoping your heart would not jump out right into his face.

“And still you seemed to have travelled quite the distance,” he said and smiled. “Come on,” he offered with an extended hand, “you can rest at my home in Bag End.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. But when you took his hand, you suddenly got the feeling everything would turn out okay after all…

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

In the hope that it would make you seem smaller, you ducked your head – but the halflings’ eyes were still firmly on you. You’d already been in their world for days, and yet they gawped at you as though you were an alien.

Well, considering you hadn’t seen any other humans in their little halfling town, maybe that was sort of true.

“The same as always,” you asked the bartender. Meaning: left-over bread and a bit of water.

“Right away,” she smiled. She was friendly – your only source of food for the past few days – but even her eyes were cautious. As though you might break something just by standing at her small bar counter. You suppressed a sigh and mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Belay that order, Rosie! They’ll have a summer vegetable ragout,” a rough voice next to chimed in. “And how about some redcurrant juice? Better than water all day. We’ll have a carafe.”

You shifted, elbows on the counter. You weren’t in the mood for petty halfling nonsense – you just wanted something to eat and get back to the tree you were hiding behind…

“On your tab, Merry?” Rosie asked, eyebrows risen in amusement.

“Yes, yes, everything on my tab.” He downed his beer and leaned further onto the counter. “My treat!”

Nothing in his voice suggested malice, so you did turn around. Next to you sat a bright-eyed halfling in a yellow vest. His cheeks were puffy from grinning. “Sorry if you looked forward to that ol’ bread,” his voice rasped. “Hope I didn’t ruin your evening.”

Something about his shamelessness made you smile. “You didn’t. Thank you.” You swallowed, but your next words left your mouth before you could stop yourself: “That’s the kindest thing someone around here has done for me.”

“Ahh, don’t give a horse’s shit about other people,” he went. “I was never averse to the big folk, and neither are the Tooks. And the Baggins’, needless to say. And, yeah, I’m a Brandybuck, so…”

Gears turn in your head – you’d heard all those names around town before. “Oh, you’re – what’s it – Merry?”

His head spun around, bright eyes staring at you. “Yeah,” he uttered. “That’s me.” He put his drink down and fumbled with the curls that had fallen into his face. You chuckled at how flustered he was all of a sudden – it was very cute! “And, and,” he stuttered, “you are…?”

You leaned in to tell him your name over the crowd’s noise. He smelled of apples and summer meadows…

When you pulled away, Merry gave you the brightest grin. “What a beautiful name!”

“Thanks,” you laughed, blushing at his smile.

“Now that that’s settled…” He shifted to give you a conspiratorial look. “We’ll get your ragout and juice, and then we can dance and sing together, what do you say?”

You laughed in disbelieve. “What?”

“Yeah! My friends are sitting over there! We can join them and teach you all the songs you need to know in the Green Dragon.” Though Merry’s enthusiasm was unmistakable, he still glanced downward, as though he was nervous about asking this of you. You thinned your lips in order not to smile like a lovebird – he was pretty charming! “I’d love to join you, Merry. Thank you.”

His joy practically exploded: “Great! Great, now then let’s go!”

“What about the ragout…?”

“I’ll teach you to dance first!” he called and took your hand to pull you with him.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Halflings, or Hobbits, as they called themselves, were a strange little people. When you had crashed into their town last Tuesday, their initial reaction to you had been rather hostile. Especially older people did not want you around, let alone talk to you.

With younger Hobbits however, the story was very different.

Children, insofar their parents wouldn’t hold them back, loved when you came to town to get food and water. They asked if you knew “Gandalf” and all other sorts of names you didn’t recognise. They also whispered secrets into your ear, about this or that sibling of theirs who had a crush on you. While amused, you shrugged it off as children’s nonsense, just the same as in your world. Until… you found a letter by the tree trunk you’ve made your home base. It was a neat and tidy letter, gorgeous handwriting, and even a seal.

Your tall figure and round ears have enchanted me…

It was a love letter! Your heart skipped a few beats – and then you laughed. Hobbits were impossible! And impossibly charming, as it would seem.

Soon you learned that they all had such tidy handwriting and beautiful stationary. The letters multiplied. Each day you found more by your home. It was getting ridiculous – so few would talk to you in person, and then apologise for it in the most beautiful letter you’d ever seen.

One day, when you found another seven letters by your base, a voice stopped you from reading them right away. “Here’s another delivery for ye!”

You turned around to find a boyish Hobbit with dishwater blond curls and blue eyes heading your way. He had a shoulder bag around his turquoise coat and marched straight toward you. You laughed when he did a little tip-toe-dance toward you.

“Wow. Then all of these are yours?” you asked.

“Wha’?” He stopped in his tracks, giving you a wide-eyed look with his lips falling open. “No, no, you couldn’t be further from the truth! Everyone’s been givin’ me letters for you, but none of it my own, I swear!”

You smiled at his charming accent and outraged expression. He even raised his hands in defence, thereby holding up the envelopes he meant to give you earlier.

“So, you’re my little messenger?” you asked, trying to ignore the urge to hug him. He was too precious!

“Somethin’ only a Took would do,” he said with a proud grin. “I bet no one’s asked you out for a bowl of Second Breakfast strawberries in person, right?”

“No?” you went, a bit unsure – was he…?

“Then I’ll do just that,” he grinned, pushing the envelopes into your hands. He smiled up at you so brightly you needed a second to understand.

“Only if you like the freshest, juiciest, reddest strawberries, that is…”

You chuckled. “What a question.”

He jumped a little, beaming like the sun. “One best asked in person, I figured. Come on, then. I’m Peregrin, by the way, but everyone calls me Pippin. Or Pip is fine, too, if you prefer that – Merry sometimes calls me that – you might know him, my first cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck. I’m also cousins with Frodo Baggins, up in Bag End, I’m sure we can pay ‘im a visit later and play cards, that’d be a blast! And speaking of Bag End…”

Truly, you thought with a blissful smile as you walked down the hill, all that would’ve been a bit much to fit into one letter.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

For Samwise Gamgee, it was an ordinary day to the plant market and back. He was thinking about trying some of that summer lilac this year. The butterflies loved it, and the East side of Bag End could use another arboret anyway. It was heavier to carry than he had expected – but nothing rolled-up sleeves couldn’t handle, even below the warm late afternoon sun. With that, he was on his way back home.

You, on the other hand, were headed in the other direction. One second you were walking down the street, looking at your phone, and then…

A gust of wind made you raise your head. You had to squint your eyes against the suddenly bright and golden sun. Insects chirped around you. You were standing by a field! Below your shoes was a gravelled path, above you the clearest blue sky you’d seen in a while.

Just when you turned around, you bumped into a child coming from around the corner of the high wildflowers – or so you thought. After your initial confusion and an autopiloted “Oh, sorry!”, you realised the stranger was far from a child. Before you stumbled a tanned man with blond curls falling into his freckled face, sturdy and kind. His broad arms, exposed by a rolled-up old-timey shirt, carried a potted plant that he now steadied in-between you.

“Oh, not to worry!” he let you know. He grunted when he realised that raising the plant like this would block your faces. Rearranging it gave you time to further scan him – his feet were naked and big. And very, very hairy – “You’re a halfling!” you realised.

“Aye, sure hope I am,” the man replied. A smile tugged at his lips when his brown eyes met yours. “And you’re a human, as it looks to me.”

You laughed. He was very good at this. Had you wandered into a fantasy festival? “Yeah, um – sorry, again,” you babbled, stealing a glance at your phone. No reception.

“No worries,” he assured you. He tilted his head. “What’s that magic tablet you’re carryin’?”

You were on the verge of replying that this was just a phone, not a tablet, when he instantly straightened his posture. “I mean, not to make any assumptions, but we don’t get big folk visitin’ very often. People might stare if someone walks around with magic stuff, not to mention a beauty such as you.”

“Beauty?” Your heart picked up pace when the halfling looked at you shily from below his dark eyelashes. Your own eyes fluttered. Where were you…? “I was just walking down the street,” you mumble, “and before I knew it…”

“I know the feeling!” the halfling agreed. “One step and you don’t know where you are anymore.”

You studied him – something made you trust him. “Yeah.”

“Were you on your way to Hobbiton then? I can accompany you, very well, if you want to,” he offered you in his simple and charming manner. You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Thank you!”

[louisisalarrie]

1000 fans theory? tell me more?

hellooooo lovely. of course! welcome to the show!

The 1000 Fans Theory was an essay written by Kevin Kelly, who was (still is? Idk) an influential entertainment and media journalist in 2008. It’s been both widely celebrated, and debated, over the years, and while it’s still referred to these days, it’s not as solid as it once was due to the way creators of the entertainment industry (including influencers) use social platforms and communicate with fans, the awful economy, and the development of so many more media channels now involved in marketing. The artist-to-fan relationship these days is more important than ever, but so much harder to facilitate and uphold due to the influx and oversaturation of media, and people’s attention spans. So I use it loosely sometimes, but let’s dig in to the bulk of it.

This theory, in short, was somewhat initially proposed as an alternative path than trying to just aim for stardom.

The main takeaways from it are:

- the internet is extremely valuable for artists to cultivate and uphold the longevity of their direct artist to fan relationship

- a “true fan”, I guess what we’d call “stans” these days, is someone who will spend approx $100 a year (a bit over $8 per month) on your content/merch/music/art whatever it may be. 1,000 of those? You’re making $100,000 a year.

- however, this is premised on developing a direct relationship, so no middle men taking cuts (managers, publishers, etc.), which was proposed as we now have the internet to cut out a lot of those middlemen (which, again, over time, people have found a way to make money and become said middlemen)

Now, this theory was roughly reliant and in response to the Long Tail Theory, which is a business/marketing/strategy theory that doesn’t really hold up anymore, because of the powerful players in the industry adjusting algorithms and shoving the same big artists in our face over and over again. So it means that people aren’t connecting and finding artists in the way that they once were, because of “songs that you may like” or Twitter recommendations or sponsored ads or whatever, getting in the way. It’s harder to be a niche artist and gain the 1000 true fans or any fans at all, these days.

So, the direct fan to artist relationship is now so much different to what it was back in 2008. And there are heaps of middlemen in play. And everything is so expensive. And even if you were just getting $100,000 a year directly from fans, you would still be paying a heap of overheads running your own business/career.

Anyway

I refer to this theory mainly because it is so much more of a surefire way to have a long-standing and solid career, rather than jump in the deep end and try and spread yourself so thin to reach as many people as possible, that you actually miss out on True Fans and only receive casual fans. It’s the reliance on the algorithm, as opposed to the loyalty of your actual fans and fostering a community. And look… it works for some people. But oftentimes, these folks can end up as one hit wonders or have their career fizzle out hard and fast because they can’t rely on True Fans to buy everything they put out and engage with their posts. They’re seen as fake/money hungry/celebrities who don’t care about their fans. It’s just a different experience.

This theory is old, and works far better in relation to smaller artists when building a platform, and doesn’t super duper relate exactly to louis’ career by any means, but I will say that the dedication and fan loyalty that he has, in comparison to artists that have a more casual fanbase/not as many True Fans, will concrete his career and he wont fall. We won’t let him fall.

You can read the essay online, and also debates against it/updates to the world we live in now, and yeah, it doesn’t hold up as well anymore. But the point stands that if you have a dedicated amount of True Fans who will buy everything you put out, go to shows when you’re in town, engage with your content etc., you are way less likely to burn out hard. And he has our loyalty because of the artist-to-fan relationship we have. It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality. Having 1,000 fans who buy everything and go to your shows, over having 10,000 followers who barely engage with you, is a massive difference to a successful career, and is much to be said for the debates about louis’ streaming/follower numbers.

It may seem like common sense, but definitely is an interesting read when you deep dive into the essay. Anyway, that’s that!

[saltminerising]

seeing the drama go down about the auraboa lore has made me super anxious. as a writer and also an autistic person, it can be hard to fully know and prepare for every single issue ahead of time, and it worries me that i’ll accidentally write something problematic into my own lore on flight rising without realizing it. (also i don’t have the funds to personally hire a sensitivity reader for all my flight rising lore.) it makes me wonder if one day i’ll write something and get cancelled and called racist for something i didn’t intend for it to come across that way at all, despite my best efforts to be cognizant of such things.

i’m not saying people shouldn’t call out these things. as a writer, there’s a lot of pressure to perform, but also the responsibility to get things right, to not spread misinformation or perpetuate harmful stereotypes. but i really think some compassion should be extended to the other side too, that people are human and they do make mistakes, unintentionally causing hurt. should flight rising hire sensitivity readers? absolutely. should they fix and change the issues present within the lore? absolutely. but i also don’t think they intended to belittle or dehumanize a group of people with their recent lore, either.

i know i’ve certainly taken the time to rewrite entire chunks of my own lore when something just felt… off to me for whatever reason. and i think that’s something that no author should be afraid to do. but the sheer hostility that comes from some people can be really daunting and anxiety-inducing. discouraging, even. to some extent, it makes me personally wonder if i should even try to tell stories when people try to find as much fault as possible in them, and aggressively tear them down rather than offering constructive criticism. it creates an environment of hostility rather than a learning space where we can all be better people.

i’m not talking about the folks who have valid criticisms, and voiced those things politely and with respect, who have brought up real concerns. that should by all means get discussed and acknowledged. i’m talking about the ones who are going overboard and getting angry at staff and just straight up calling them extremely racist. not that i’m defending racism. of course not. just that i think being that as accusatory as possible doesn’t get us anywhere other than high tension and mob mentality.

i also think there are definitely people who are being dismissive of these concerns as well, and those folks need to back down too. (especially that individual who posted a baby image as a reply to what an individual stated. that’s such a childish thing to do. please be better than that.) i’m just sad to see some people can’t remain civil about these topics, i guess. i feel like, we’re all people here, we all bleed the same, we all make mistakes. perhaps a little bit of empathy would go a long way from both sides of the equation.

on another note. for the folks who are being equally dismissive of the phobias that genes like medusa and scuttle trigger: people are people, and what bothers one person might not upset another. expecting everyone to feel the same way, and to not have a certain trigger because it doesn’t personally bother you is a very narrow-minded way of thinking. let people exist in the way that they do without making them feel unheard and unseen, as though they are ridiculous or foolish. they’re not.

i love these genes myself, but i can understand if someone else was unnerved by them, because the world is a larger place than my own narrow perception of it. again, compassion and empathy go a long way. please don’t be unkind to the folks who may be dealing with things you are not. wouldn’t you appreciate it if someone was as understanding about the things that upset you?

anyways. sorry for rambling. i’m sure most of you will think this is too much to read, and that’s fine too. i can understand that. regardless of whether you did or not, i hope you all have a good week. rest, hydrate, and take care of yourselves.

[milk-ly]

Fuuta and Wind

I was reading this post (super interesting btw!) and I want to address Fuuta’s connection to wind!

That post brings up that Fuuta’s Twitter name is “Pazupazu_Soccer” and if you didn’t know, Pazuzu is a God of wind.

More specifically, Pazuzu is the king of wind demons in Mesopotamian religion. He is believed to help and protect humans from other dangerous wind demons.

Now, that’s already painting a connection between Fuuta and Pazuzu. Some powerful and heroic person/creature that’s protecting the common folk from evil! But there’s MUCH more.

V more below the cut!! V

What is wind? Well, it’s a natural force that represents power. When it’s a simple breeze, it’s pleasant, it can bring about change such as the weather! But what happens when gusts of wind become too powerful or intense? Destruction.

Despite Pazuzu being a creature that wards of other wind demons, he too is still a wind demon. Specifically, one that was known to be destructive and powerful.

Fuuta wanted to be a hero that protects others from evil like Pazuzu! And yet, Pazuzu is a personification of the southwest winds, which associated with droughts, plagues, locust and famine.

Fuuta ends up being not much better than the people he’s attempting to punish. He is a wind demon too in the end. Like wind, Fuuta was powerful, causing destruction and ultimately, the death of a young girl.

And remember Fuuta’s whole fire symbolism? Keep in mind that Pazuzu is the personification of the southern west wind. So hey, what does wind do to a fire? It helps fire spread.

Fuuta wielded a fire sword, the fire being used to symbolize his justice and judgment. Fuuta, being the representation of wind, spread the flames until they were out of control.

Pazuzu also had an arch rival named “Lamashtu,” known as the goddess of monsters/demons.

I’m not sure of my interpretation here but since she is the Goddess of Demons, I believe she might be a representation of those who Fuuta believes have wronged in general. Lamashtu is often associated with very evil deeds. The most famous is how she would pray on children and pregnant woman and eat them.

BUT THERES MORE.

Kajiyama Fuuta written in Kanji is “梶山 風汰”

The “ta” (汰 )in “Fuuta” is pretty straightforward. It means "select," or “scour.” Scour means to clean something by rubbing it really hard. Pretty much what Fuuta is trying to do in a way. Trying to remove the scum, the dirt, plaguing society.

Bring it On quote: “I give up. Need to make it clean since it’s so dirty.”

However the “Fuu” (風 )in Fuuta’s name means “wind.” Sound familiar?

Another fun fact I want to share! From my knowledge, I believe in Japan, “Fuu” is the sound of blowing on something to cool it down. Hmm, now where have I heard that?

Salamander!!

A part of the lyrics in the song is

“Make sure to cool it down so you don’t get burned!”

And in Romaji, it’s:

“chanto fuu shite yakedo shitakunai nara”

Yup!! The Fuu used here means to blow on something to cool it down, the same kanji as Fuuta’s name.

And I just think that’s really neat even if it was probably only half intentional lmao.

Another thing is that that “Yama” (山) in “Kajiyama,” Fuuta’s last name means mountain.

In a lot of written sources, Pazuzu climbs a great mountain and fought other powerful wind demons, coming out victorious. It was a show of his power.

Anyway, kind of an abrupt ending but I just thought this was really interesting!! Thanks for reading!:D

Edit: somebody pointed out that it’s Pazuzu and not Pazupazu. Completely my bad, that is incredibly embarrassing💀I’ve fixed it all now, thank you for the correction @moibakadesu !!

[totallywizard07]

The Bad Batch Death Trooper AU Part 1: Fire

1,968 words - Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and Crosshair must escape their burning village before it’s too late

Preview:

All Hunter could see was fire. All he could hear was the crackling, all he could smell was the bitter, thick smoke and all he could taste was the ash. The ash of a burning town. His burning town.

But somehow he couldn’t care.

The planet Trogiyyl, an independent world, and one of many backwater planets in the outer rim, is by no means a haven. Comprised almost entirely of rock, and the surface more of the same, no man willingly sets down his roots there. Neither do many species of vegetation. However, it is far from uninhabitable. Villages are scattered across the rocky terrain, few and far between, but present nonetheless. Folk live out their lives humbly; the planet and its permanently-dwindling population being of no real importance to the greater galaxy.

It is in one of these so-called unimportant villages that our story begins.

Smouldering blazes claw at the polluted night sky, baring their fangs and spitting bright, volatile sparks. Structures crumble and collapse under the intense heat; some already can only be remembered in the debris catapulted through the thick air. Few screams can be heard; many of the townsfolk already having been taken by the relentless fires, however survivors do not fare much better, and are picked off by the smoking blasters of their unwelcome guests.

It is often believed that the lick of a flame holds more potential for peril than those who lit the match, after the fact. In the case of our four young protagonists, the former would be considered more than merciful.

All Hunter could see was fire. All he could hear was the crackling, all he could smell was the bitter, thick smoke and all he could taste was the ash. The ash of a burning town. His burning town.

But somehow he couldn’t care.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he couldn’t. And not because he was senseless, or evil, but because he had something else to care about. His brothers.

He couldn’t let them be killed or taken or whatever else the Empire wanted to do to them.

They could feel the heat grasping at their skin even from where they huddled, hidden behind a food cart by the perimeter. Hunter found himself thankful for the rocky terrain preventing the fire from spreading and becoming worse than it already was: really bad.

“What are we going’ do?” Mumbled Crosshair, never taking his eyes from the shadowed figures darting from building to building not far in front of them.

“I do not know Cross. How can we get away?” Tech glanced up to Hunter for an answer, and Hunter looked away when he drew a blank, not wanting to face his already heartbroken little brother. A gentle hand on his shoulder had him looking up into Wrecker’s fear-filled but solid gaze.

“We‘ll find a way out of this.” He looked pensive. “How about… the stables? They’re made of stone, right? We could hide in there?”

Hunter shook his head. “We don’t know why they’re here; they might go look through them or something. I think we should run away.”

Wrecker looked startled, as though he hasn’t considered this option. “But… we have nowhere to go, this- this is our home!”

“Wreck, look around, look what they’ve done to our home, they’ll be nothing left by tomorrow, we have to get away from the troopers!”

“Hunter’s right, we should run!” Tech raised his finger into the air as he said this, making Hunter quirk his lips fondly despite the circumstances.

He loved his town, but he loved his brothers more. They had to escape.

“Wrecker, I know you don’t want to go, but… but I can’t lose you.”

Wreckers troubled expression softened a little at the quiet confession, and he replied, “I don’t wanna lose you either, Hunt. Any a’ you.”

“They coming closer!” Crosshair’s alarmed tone rang out from where he peered over the cart table, and Hunter yanked him back down by the shirt.

“Hey!” He grunted, wrapping his arms around himself both protectively and grumpily.

“If they see us, who knows what they’ll do to us! We should run to the caves, y’know, by the cliff, hide out there a while,” Hunter whispered purposefully.

Wrecker nodded quickly, as did Tech. Crosshair frowned.

“Let’s move over there, it’s a little closer to the perimeter,” Hunter pointed to a large pile of rubble, perfect to shelter behind before they made a break for it. At Wrecker’s acknowledgment, Hunter grabbed Tech by the hand and Wrecker did the same for Crosshair, and they scuttled quietly to the new spot.

It was then that a second shuttle landed dangerously close to them, and more troopers filed out, spreading around the area. Hunter gasped; everything was suddenly louder, running footsteps and crackling flames and distorted shouts and his erratic breathing-

Tech’s hand squeezed his, bringing him from his panic and back to his brothers beside him. He had to get them out of here, before it was too late.

“Wrecker, take Tech! I’ll make them go over there, you make a run for it!” He tried to pass the bespectacled boy’s hand to his wide eyed brother, but Wrecker shook his head.

“No, Hunt! Stay with us, I don’t wanna leave without you!” Tears were forming in his eyes as he grabbed Hunter’s hand in a vain attempt to make him stay. The quake in his brother’s usually strong grip loosened his resolve slightly.

“I have ta go, Wreck, or they’ll, they’ll do something to us!” Hunter felt tears falling from his own eyes now, his face likely matching Wrecker’s fear-stricken expression.

“What will they do?” A terror-laced sob came from Crosshair, and he gripped tighter onto Wrecker’s tattered shirt with his spare hand, pressing into his brother’s side.

“It’ll be alright Crossy, it’ll be ok,” Wrecker stroked the hand he held with his thumb, the gesture dampened by the shaking of his arm.

Hunter felt a face press into his own side, and Tech’s warm tears soaking through his jacket, small coughs wracking through him. Hunter reluctantly pulled his hand out of Wrecker’s to cough into his elbow, then using it to cover his nose and mouth. The smoke was starting to make it hard to breathe, and he could hear his brothers beginning to wheeze.

“We have to leave now, it’s gettin’ too smoky!” Hunter’s voice was muffled by his arm, but Wrecker understood and nodded in agreement.

Hunter looked around and pointed to the open track in front of their hiding space.

“If we go fast, we can get past them before they see us!” Wrecker frowned, looking skeptical, but nodded again nonetheless.

“Ok… ready?” Wrecker smiled uncertainly to them all, tightening his grip on Crosshair’s hand and assuming a determined demeanor. “We’re gonna go as fast as we can… like a race, yeah?”

Tech withdrew from Hunter’s side and readied himself, bobbing his head excessively and fiddling with the metal rim of his glasses: a nervous habit.

Hunter crouched down to be eye level with the four year old. His eyebrows were knit in worry and fear, dried tears staining his face. His amber lenses were clouded, one cracked, and Hunter reached out to carefully wipe away the condensation. “Hey, Techie, we can do this. We’ll be together, like always.” Hunter pulled Tech’s hand down from his face and squeezed it before letting go and steeling himself.

Together. They’d do this, and they’d stay together. It had always just been them, ever since Hunter and Wrecker had been the age of their little brothers, and the twins just little babies.

They had to stay together.

“Ok,” he double checked his grasp on Tech’s hand, glanced back at Cross and Wreck, and faced forward, squinting against his stinging eyes. “Run!”

They darted into the clearing, dragging their charges as fast as their little legs would carry them. They kicked up dust with their skidding stumbles, although it was unseen in the smoke filled air. Squinting and spluttering, Hunter pulled Tech towards the sparsely vegetated outcropping beyond their village. He knew from their many adventures that just over them were the Roazern Cliffs, upon which was a large cave, perfect for hiding out. He hoped Wrecker was on his tail. Too late, a figure materialised in his peripheral. They were clad in white, standing out like a beacon in the clouded darkness, with ashy dust marks smeared on their helmet and chestplate. A trooper.

The trooper was trailed by more, three more, and they rounded on the fleeing children.

Their expressions hid behind helmets and their voices behind modulators. Cowards.

“Set to stun! They’re young, good for the taking,” Hunter didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it couldn’t be good. Path now obstructed by the conspicuous soldier, Hunter reluctantly skidded to a stop- Tech bumping into his elbow behind him- and frantically looked around for a way out of their predicament.

“H-Hunter, whadda we do!” Wrecker practically screamed from his left, the hopelessness evident in his quivering, coarse voice. Hunter glanced back at him to see that he had gathered Crosshair in his arms, and was holding onto him protectively.

And as the troopers surrounded them, easily blocking all route of escape with their larger frames, Hunter found he didn’t have an answer.

“Stop!”

The half-coughed cry from Tech was the last thing Hunter registered before he collapsed. Voices spoke with no meaning, no more than muffled buzzes, and Hunter could no longer taste the ash, or smell the smoke, or hear the crackling of flames. He could no longer see the swirling infernos enveloping the dilapidated village, or the sparks and debris launched carelessly by the blaze. He could no longer see the fire. He could no longer see his brothers.

“Take them onto the ship. You know they’ll always take extras, maybe we’ll even get some cred for these ones.”

“If you say so. I still think we should have shot them.”

“They’re kids, the Empire’ll have use for them; they can be trained up.”

“I don’t care what they do with them, long as it’s nothing to do with me.”

“Grab those two, I’ve g…” the modulated voices faded.

Now he truly was senseless.

Consciousness brought a pounding in his head, a stiffness in his fingers and an unwelcome feeling of fear. He was attacked by an onslaught of artificial light upon opening his eyes, forcing him to squint hard at the surgically neat tiled ceiling. He could feel dried tears on his cheeks, and his eyes already ached from squinting. Slow breathing could be heard on either side of him, the room so quiet every breath was like a roaring fire. A sudden epiphany, a remembrance, had him opening his eyes fully, facing the light head on with the intent of ascertaining who exactly was breathing on either side of him.

Were they his brothers?

“Wrecker! Tech! Crosshair!” His voice was dry; he distantly wondered how long he had been incapacitated. “Tech! Wrecker, c’mon! Cross, are you there?”

He drew from his adrenaline rush the ability to move his limbs, pulling his arms and legs away… before coming to an abrupt stop. He could move no further than he already lay, as though gravity were weighing him down. The surface he lay upon was hard and uncomfortable, but was to him a bed of nails; the inability to leave it and see his brothers causing him more pain than he had ever known.

He scrambled against the binders, trying in vain to pull himself away from his horizontal prison, the grunts and screams escaping his mouth morphing into sobs. Still he struggled, feeling the straps cut into his ankles and wrists, his head bashing back against the surface with every yank away.

He didn’t know when he finally fell asleep, drowning in his own tears. Exhaustion paired with hopelessness and fear to create an inescapable labyrinth of nightmares, of screams, tears and flames. Later, he would be thankful for these nightmares. They were better than facing his reality.

Part 2: Grief

[loislane41319]

Fear.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Wordcount: 3094

Summary: The first time Dean sees you scared.

Warnings: Typical Supernatural stuff. Vampires, beheading vampires, death, deep feelings of guilt, loss of loved ones.

Note: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted anything. All three of my best friends recently moved away and I've been going to therapy for, among other things, ADHD.

Last week I had my last therapie session and, while I wrote this a few weeks ago, today I finally finished editing it!

Thank you so much for waiting for me and I really hope you'll enjoy this.

For those who'd like something less violent I am working on a dad!Spencer Reid story. I don't know when I'll post that though.

Story:

Fear is a funny thing. It can just appear out of nowhere or it can sneak up on you, like some virus that you’re not aware of until after it’s caused an infection. Fear is a feeling, but unlike happiness or anger it always comes with a bodily reaction. Depending on the situation and the person, the body can react to fear in different ways. For instance, when you come eye to eye with a tiger, you might feel your chest start to tighten. This means your muscles are getting ready to take action, possibly in the form of fighting or in the form of running away. Others might start to sweat excessively, so that their bodies will stay cool while running and then there’s the kind of person who will drop to the ground and play dead. Now, when encountering a tiger the latter method is useless, because tigers will sneak up on you and attack from behind. However when you encounter a female bear protecting her cubs, pretending to be dead is exactly the way to go.

Now, these reactions stem from a long time ago when humans regularly came in contact with wild animals, because we lived amongst them and they were a source of food. Nowadays however, we might react to having a job interview or giving a presentation in the same way our ancestors would while encountering a sabre-toothed tiger. That is, unless your job is to hunt ghosts, demons or other supernatural beings.

Of course, these hunters are humans so they know fear. Probably even better than normal folk. The thing about hunters is that, while they are afraid, they don’t show it. They can’t, otherwise whatever creature they’re hunting will gain the upper hand. So, while learning what monsters are out there and how to beat them, a hunter will learn how to handle their fear. They’ll learn to keep their breathing under control, so they won’t start hyperventilating and panic, but they’ll be able to keep thinking clearly. They learn to think on their feet, so that, even when a creature does gain the upper hand, they can turn the tables just as fast. And most of all, they learn that being scared is okay, because their own fear won’t kill them, but whatever creature they’re facing might.

You are one of those hunters. You’ve been hunting for almost two decades and you’re good at it. You were also a mystery. You had some impressive kills to your name and so other hunters starting talking about you, but no one actually knew you. Rumours were spread and you were made out to be some kind of superhuman. Eventually, the word most used to describe you, was fearless.

The rumours eventually also reached the Winchesters. Dean was not only impressed, but intrigued by the stories he heard and his desire to meet you kept growing the more he heard about you. Sam however, had his doubts about the rumours floating around and would rather focus on facts.

Dean was granted his wish though. Four months ago you met the brothers while working the same case. You got along well and after working together and solving the case you worked together more and more.

While drinking a beer on the hood of his car, you even opened up to Dean about losing your mother as a child and since he went through something similar, you two became very close. Bit by bit you pulled away the veil that you had draped over your past. You shared stories about your family , your pain, but not your fear. Never your fear. To you, fear was something you couldn’t allow yourself to feel. Instead of learning to deal with it, you had taught yourself to bury it, deep down inside of you where no one, not even you, could get to it. And it worked. You killed vampires, ghosts, werewolves and demons all on your own. It didn’t even matter how many there were, you would always get the job done. Until one fateful night.

You and the Winchesters were working a case that involved multiple bodies, found with bite marks and without blood. The culprit was a vampire. That you knew almost instantly. What you didn’t know however, was how many there were or where they were held up. After the third victim was found, you realised all the bodies were left around an old abandoned factory and you decided to investigate.

Ever since you entered the town though, the hairs on the back of your neck had stood up straight. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like something was off, but since you had no idea what, you shrugged it off and focused on the job you had to do.

The second you found yourself at the factory though, your heart started banging in your chest, harder than it ever had. But, as always, you shoved the feeling down and kept going. There were three buildings in the area and you decided to clear them together, one by one. The first building was empty. When you thought you had cleared the second building, suddenly you were pushed to the ground. You managed to catch yourself, but as your hands hit the ground, an image flashed through your brain. You saw your hands on the exact same floor except everything was covered in blood. What was going on? Within a second you were back to reality, without any idea what had just happened. Your skin was now clammy, your breathing heavy and you were sweating profusely. “Y/N, you okay?” You heard Dean ask. You got up and after turning around you noticed a beheaded body and blood dripping off of Sam’s machete. It was a vampire that had pushed you down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get to the last building.” You answered and all three of you kept going.

You walked over to the third building and stood next to Dean as Sam opened the door. Before entering, you swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself down. For a split second, you wondered if you should let Sam and Dean handle this building without you, but you immediately threw that thought out of the window. How could you even think about leaving your friends just when things got difficult?

The second you entered the factory hall, you felt like you had walked into a wall. You staggered backwards, slamming your back into the wall behind you as your brain was flooded with images of this very hall covered in blood and remains. Suddenly you heard your brother. He was screaming, vampires were growling and suddenly you were on the ground and the blood was gone. The next second you could see Sam and Dean fighting some vamps, but you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You saw a vampire coming straight at you, but you weren’t sure if it was really there, so you had no idea what to do. You pressed yourself against the wall, pulling your knees against your chest. In an attempt to make everything stop, you covered your ears and closed your eyes, hiding your face between your knees.

As the last vampire’s head hit the floor, Dean started looking for you and Sam. He found his brother first, standing over another dead vampire a few feet away. “You okay?” Sam asked. “Yeah” Dean answered and he was about to ask where you were when he heard you whimpering. “No, no, no. Go away, leave me alone.” You mumbled. For a second Dean wasn’t sure if you were actually you. You were hyperventilating, tears were streaming down your face and you looked so small Dean could barely recognise the strong, powerful woman he had gotten to know in the last few months. Both brothers ran toward you and knelt down next to you. “Hey, Y/N? It’s Dean. It’s safe now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me?” Dean softly asked. Somehow, through all the screaming and the blood and the violence in your head Dean’s voice was crystal clear. Like a light in the darkest night you tried your best to focus on his voice and you let him guide you back to reality. “Dean?” You managed to get out through sort breaths. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s me. It’s okay. Try to breathe.” He told you. You slowly looked up at him and while everything outside of you was calm and quiet, your body was still a complete chaos on the inside. “I-I can’t.” You told Dean as your right hand found your heart. “Yes you can. Here.” Dean said. He took your hand from your heart and placed it over his own. “Try to match my breathing. You can do this, I know you can.” He told you and you tried your best, but your erratic breathing didn’t change. Dean looked at his brother, wordlessly asking him for help. Sam held his hands up, wordlessly telling his brother he didn’t know how. Dean looked back to you. His heart broke seeing you like this and it hurt so much more because he couldn’t help you. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might help you. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into this head. It may have been the most ridiculous, dumb idea he ever had, but he had to help you and there was nothing else he could think of. Still holding your hand over his heart, Dean laid his other hand in your neck and pressed his lips against yours. 

In the last for months Dean had loved getting to know you. He deeply enjoyed hanging out with you and felt honoured every time you told him something about yourself you hadn’t told anyone else. He had wanted to ask you out for two months now, but had never found the courage to do that. About a week ago you were working on another case. You had found changelings and after killing the mother, one of the human kids didn’t want to leave their cage. It was a little, four-year-old girl and Dean couldn’t help but stare at you as you talked to her. “I know you’re scared and your mommy isn’t here right now, but I can take you to her.” You told her. “But there are scary people out there.” The little girl whispered. “I know, but I will be with you the whole way, so I can protect you, okay?” You asked her. “Even from him?” She whispered back, pointing at Dean. A small smile appeared on your face. “I know he seems scary, but that’s my friend Dean. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” You told her and as you took the girl into your arms, Dean realised he didn’t just like you. He was falling in love with you.

As he let you go, you could finally take a deep breath in. You took a few moments to steady your breathing and then you noticed the two faces staring questioningly at you. “Y/N, what happened?” Sam asked you. “Not here. I gotta get out of here first.” You told the brothers, shaking your head. They nodded and the three of you got up and left.

About an hour later, you were back at the motel. You and Dean had both taken showers and Sammy had gotten the dinner you were now enjoying. You made smalltalk for a few minutes, until Sam decided to address the elephant in the room. “Y/N, can you please tell us what happened? I mean, in the months that we’ve known you we’ve seen you kill all kinds of creatures, including vampires, without braking a sweat and tonight you had a full blown panic attack. Do you even know what caused it?” He asked. You softly sighed and nodded, knowing you could get around it any longer. “I grew up in a family of hunters. As you know, my mom died when I was little and so my dad and my brother started hunting together, leaving me at whatever seedy motel room we were staying in. One day, when I was fifteen, I decided I was old enough to join them. They didn’t agree, so I figured I’d prove it to them. They were after a vampire and I had overheard them talking about where they thought it would be that night. A few hours later, I snuck out and went there. The vampire was held up somewhere in an old factory. Three buildings and lots of ground to cover.”

“The place we were tonight.” Sam filled in. You nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the lights were on in the third building, so I went in. I found my dad and brother inside and it turned out there wasn’t just one vampire. There were five of them. The moment one of them noticed me, I screamed. It ran straight at me, but my brother managed to kill it in time. 

My dad however, had gotten distracted by my scream, giving another vamp enough time to stab him. My brother yelled at me to run, but there were still three vamps left. I did what he told me and waited for him outside, but he never came out. He was barely eighteen. He saved my life twice in one night and had to make up for it with his own.” You felt a tear slide down your face and fell quiet. “And all of that happened in the building we were in tonight?” Sam asked. You nodded. “I always felt like their deaths were my fault, because if I hadn’t screamed, they’d still be here. So I decided I couldn’t be scared anymore.” You admitted. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam told you. Dean took your hand, causing you look at him. “I’m so sorry about that, Y/N, but their deaths aren’t your fault, they’re the vamps fault and it’s okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared sometimes, you just can’t let that stop you.” He told you sincerely. “I mean, you’re sitting next to a guy who shits his pants every time the Plucky Pennywhistle’s commercial plays.” Dean added grinning. “Haha. Here’s an idea. Take Dean on a flight. He’ll scream like a little girl the whole way.” Sam bit back, got up and disappeared into the bathroom. 

The silence that followed was heavy. Dean cleared his throat and started gathering the fast-food wrappers that were all over the table. As he got up to throw them away, you decided you had to get something off of your chest. “Dean, how did you know kissing me would help me breathe?” You asked as you turned to him. He just shrugged. “Read it somewhere, I think.” He mumbled. “So, it was just that? Just a way to get me to take deeper breaths?” You asked, getting up and walking towards him. “Yeah, I was just trying to-“ You turned him towards you and softly pressed your lips against his, effectively cutting him off. He kissed you back, dropping the towel he was holding in the sink and wrapping his arm around your waist. One of your hands found its way into his hair, while the other intertwined both of your fingers. Then you pulled back. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to, I’d-“ You tried to walk away, but had somehow forgotten you were still holding Deans hand. “Not so fast. I have something to admit. I didn’t just kiss you to stop you from panicking. I didn’t know what to do and I wanted to kiss you before it was too late.” Dean said while walking closer to you. “Really?” You asked him. “Yeah. I’ve wanted to ask you out for months, but I was so scared of losing you that I kept chickening out. So, this is me, not letting my fear stop me. Y/N, will you go out with me? Because I think I’m falling for you.” You were so close, your foreheads and noses touched and you could feel Dean’s breath against your lips as he talked. You pressed another kiss to his lips and a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you. And Dean? I fell for you four months ago.” You told him. Dean kissed you again and then you finally let go of his hand. “We should get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” You told him, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face.

The moment the door closed behind you, you felt cold. Part of you wanted to get back inside and stay with Dean until the morning and another part you was yelling at you because it’s just one night. You could be without him for that long, couldn’t you? So, you went to your own room and got ready for bed. Once in bed, though, you couldn’t sleep. You kept tossing and turning and for whatever reason you were freezing. After a few minutes, you decided enough was enough. You got out of bed and made your way back to Sam and Deans room. The light was still on and Sam was still in the shower. Dean was in bed flipping though channels. His hand disappeared under his pillow when the door opened, until he noticed it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” He asked and turned off the tv. “Hey, can I sleep here tonight?” You asked softly. Then you saw the most adorable thing you had seen in a while. Deans eyes started shining and his lips turned into the sweetest smile. “Come here.” He said. He held up a corner of the blanket and moved back as you crawled into bed next to him. The first moments were a little awkward as Dean was laying with his back toward the edge of the bed and you laid with your back towards him. He loosely laid an arm around your waist and waited to see how you’d react. You took his hand, intertwined your fingers and pulled it against your heart. Then you softly kissed Dean’s knuckles and the awkwardness melted away. Dean wrapped his other arm around you too and pulled you against his chest. “Goodnight, handsome.” You whispered. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dean whispered back and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. Not two minutes later you were both fast asleep when Sam came out of the bathroom. He immediately noticed you in his brothers bed and couldn’t help but smile. Finally.

[anonymousboxcar]

Spamcan/D199 Headcanons & Analysis

While writing this fic and replying to folks’ lovely comments, I thought a lot about Spamcan and what makes him distinct to me. I feel like he’s different from the other rude diesel antagonists.

In my opinion, what sets him apart is that he has a companion. Bowler and Old Stuck Up arrive alone while Spamcan shares his trial with Bear. He also says “we” and “our controller” to Bear. There’s familiarity between them; he thinks of themselves as a package deal.

Bear validates this: “Shush! It’s their railway.” He doesn’t agree with Spamcan’s bigotry, but he still calls the NWR “their” railway. He’s aligning himself along lines of “us and them,” suggesting he and Spamcan are on the same “side” to some degree. He also considers themselves a package deal, even if he’s frustrated with it.

So how did these two become acquainted?

Well, Bear is a diesel-hydraulic engine — a type BR declares non-standard. Spamcan is a diesel-electric, safe for now from the cutter’s torch, but Bear’s position is much more fragile.

Considering what we see of Spamcan, he doesn’t seem like he’d befriend Bear for altruistic reasons. Yet he still refers to himself and Bear as a “we.” He even worries about what Bear thinks of him after he breaks down with his oil tankers.

And that’s what I think is at the root of this. Spamcan doesn’t care about Bear, but about what Bear thinks of him. He cares about maintaining a self-image that convinces Bear to stay with him, to keep following him.

Spamcan wants Bear to be dependent upon him.

I imagine their dynamic on BR was Spamcan demanding Bear’s loyalty in exchange for protection. And by protection, I mean dumping his work on Bear with the excuse of keeping him “out of sight, out of mind” from their controller. Bear didn’t have any better options, so he went along with it. Now he’s at the end of his rope.

But my pre-canon musings aside, do you see what I’m getting at? Spamcan’s one manipulative son of a gun!

He utilizes Bear’s threatened status to keep him close, to have someone who backs up what he says. His use of chummy plural pronouns is a strategy to wear down Bear’s sense of individuality. He tries to create camaraderie while also diminishing him, reducing him to a satellite in his orbit.

Spamcan is arrogant and boastful, but he has a degree of subtlety, too. That’s something that Bowler and Old Stuck Up never managed. The fact they came alone on their trials suggests they don’t have any followers or “friends” of their own, any of Spamcan’s finesse.

But you know who does manage some of that finesse? Diesel.

I like to think that Spamcan hears the story of Diesel’s trial. To him, it’s clear that Diesel worked the best when he flattered other engines and made himself indispensable to them. Messing with the trucks backfired in the end, but Spamcan would never do such a foolish thing. He can do one better than Diesel.

It’s not Spamcan’s plan to go to Sodor — he would rather stay on a “modernized” railway — but he figures it’s his duty to spread modernization. Like a “good diesel,” he volunteers himself with Bear for the trial. The Sodor engines will be on guard now, so who better to go with him than the fellow diesel to which he made himself invaluable? It’ll ensure someone has his back in hostile territory.

Spamcan’s miscalculation is in assuming that Bear will be grateful for recommending him to go on trial, winning him more points with him. But on BR, Bear was vulnerable. Now that he’s on Sodor, he has a chance of getting to safety. He doesn’t need Spamcan’s protection.

And every time Spamcan tries to appeal to him, he’s showing himself at his nastiest. Bear’s personal morals aside, if Spamcan hates “outdated” steam engines, how long will it be before he turns on “non-standard” diesels? How long will it be before Bear stops being useful to BR and to Spamcan?

When Bear tells Spamcan to shut up, he loses his only support right as he makes enemies out of every steam engine on this island. He’s alone and it’s all his own fault, all because he assumed he could manipulate his way out of any situation.

In that way, Spamcan isn’t too different from the other rude diesel antagonists. He fails because he’s arrogant and discriminatory. He fails because our protagonists resist swollen egos and prejudice where they see it.

But I like to think I’ve made a decent case for the ways he is different. I think he’s a bit subtler, a bit more manipulative than the others, even if he’s no more successful. What do you guys think? :)

[shallowseeker]

Beach Boys

Dean hates that this beach is public.

There’s too many noisy folks, and now a roaming wad of douchey bros (you know the type) is courting Sam for beach volleyball.

Sam looks dumbfounded, like he hasn’t noticed how tall he is, and how that might make him first pick for the intramural beach-losers’ draft.

But Sam, being Sam, quirks an easy grin and says “sure.”

Ugh.

Jack throws puppy eyes, and Sam asks if he can play, too. The dude-bros shrug, friendly in that oily, college-keg-totin’ kinda way.

“I’ll play,” Mary says, jumping up and giving Jack a gentle nudge. “Show you the basics.”

Well, Dean doesn’t wanna play.

It’s been Hell getting his overlapping towels just right so none of the friggin’ hot sand grates against his skin.

The group of college bros move off to the net a little ways down from them and plops their enormous Arctic Cooler keg (surprise, surprise) off to the side.

Rowena pulls her sunglasses down, peeks appreciatively at the mass of tan, muscly bods, and makes to move her entire setup closer, umbrella and all.

“You comin?” she trills.

When Dean shakes his head, she pulls off her oversized hat and plops it on top of his head.

“Suit yourself.”

///

Sam gets the hang of it pretty quickly, but then, he barely has to even jump to spike the ball.

Mary is good—quick on her feet and able to skitter through the thick, ankle-floppin’ sand like a human sand-crab.

Jack is—not good. He misses more than he passes, and his first serve doesn’t even go over the net. The college bros jeer, and Dean squeezes his empty beer can hard enough that it crunches.

He mentally names them: Smirky Opie for the tall redhead, Stifler for sunglasses guy, and A.C. Slater for the dark-haired one.

They’re all dicks.

Dean can tell.

“You can do it!” Mary keeps saying, and Sam just claps his hands like some kind of deranged rec-league coach.

When Jack digs his first spike, Dean whoops for joy. When Sam slams down a kill, Rowena whistles.

///

“They seem to be enjoying themselves.”

Dean hadn’t heard Cas come up.

“Yeah,” he says absent-mindedly. “You got the better stuff?”

Dean peeks up, and Cas’s face is shadowed by the glare of the sun. But he’s got two drinks in hand, one deliciously chocolate and frothy-looking.

“Oooh, gimme.”

Cas dutifully hands over the creamy glass of Bushwacker. Then, Dean watches Cas watch him gulp it down. Finding it difficult to keep his gaze, Dean tracks his eyes back to the game, where Mary misses a block at the net.

“Hold this,” Cas says, and a shorter, orange-colored glass gets shoved into Dean’s free hand.

Dean takes a whiff. Rum?

“Whatcha get?”

Cas’s lips twitch, “Jungle bird.”

Dean fails to hold back a smile. “Nice.”

“Rum, pineapple juice, and Campari, though I can pick out many more molecules than that.”

Cas stoops to snag his own towel, discarded and messy on Dean’s right side, then snaps it mid-air, sending tiny granules spraying too near to Dean’s nest of towels.

“Hey.”

“Sorry.”

Cas re-spreads his towel and settles down, no more than a foot of space between them. Dean glances over, finds him lying flat with both eyes closed.

Cas’s hand shoots out expectantly, and with a fond snicker, Dean sets the Jungle Bird in his open palm.

When Cas takes a small swig, his mouth bumps up against the slice of lime hooked onto the glass rim. His unoccupied hand rests against his stomach, looking extra tan against his plain white tee.

Dean kind of wishes he’d move it, maybe drop it strategically into the space between them.

Dean blurts out, “You don’t wanna play?”

Cas squints one eye open. He looks curiously to the volleyball net.

“Not particularly.” Then, “Those males seem somewhat mean-spirited.”

One of the dudes gets hang-time and crams a spike so hard into Sam’s face that Sam barely gets his wrists up to shank it.

Yeah.

“You have more towels than when I left.”

Dean rolls his eyes. So what if he’d hogged the towels? So what if it made more laundry that they'll have to do tonight?

“Sand’s itchy as fuck, man. You see that beach house five doors down? S’got a hot tub built into their deck.”

Cas’s eyes close again, languid and as close to relaxed as Dean’s ever seen him.

“Hot tub. Wouldn’t you find that oppressively hot in summertime?”

“Not at night! That’s the real time to enjoy the beach anyway.”

Cas stares at him for a long time. Dean can’t parse it.

“Yes,” says Cas.

Dean clears his throat and glances back to the game just in time to see redheaded-douchewad-Smirky Opie spike the ball into Jack’s dopey, smiling face.

Blood sprays from Jack’s nose, and Smirky Opie grins wider.

Dean’s blood pressure goes through the roof.

[kindheart525]

What are Nee and Dur’s adult lives like?

I’m so glad you asked, thank you so much! I previously joked that Nee and Dur were “in and out of jail and fleeing from the law” as adults, but that’s not exactly true. In reality they’re doing very well, no longer going on grandiose Mr. Frog-style rampages that make national news but now settled down and running a humble little laundromat. They’ve really turned themselves around.

That’s what the public sees, anyway. The real story is that their antics got them in a lot of trouble that only mounted as they got older. Their habit of biting people as children evolved into serious criminal offenses as they approached adulthood, in a lifestyle that was not sustainable. See, their childhood idol Mr. Frog can get away with such extreme violence because he’s a beloved TV star and former President of the United States, but ordinary citizens like Nee and Dur don’t enjoy such immunity. It eventually came to a point where the law caught up with them and they were facing life in prison, or even the death penalty.

They got out of it, of course. Daddy Pim had to blow his life savings on legal fees, but he managed to get their life-ruining sentences whittled down to 5 years + community service, because money fixes everything in this society. However, the experience made both Nee and Dur realize that they couldn’t carry on committing crimes in the open like this, because Daddy Pim was now dry on legal funds and next time they wouldn’t be so lucky. Knowing his boys needed help getting back on their feet, Pim suggested they establish a charity or business of sorts that serves the community in a positive way, much like the Smiling Friends company does. It would teach them how to care for their fellow citizens and grow as critters, he reasoned. 

So here they are running a laundromat, helping the community keep their clothes clean while keeping their images clean. It totally isn’t a money laundering front. I mean, laundromat, money laundering? That’s too on the nose. They aren’t that dumb. And so what if customers randomly disappear sometimes? They just operate in a bad neighborhood! It’s just a coincidence that everyone who’s disappeared had a particularly bad experience with the laundromat, or perhaps expressed unfounded suspicion about the business’s integrity. All of that has nothing to do with Nee and Dur. No, the Pimling Brothers are better than that. They’ve changed!

In all seriousness, Nee and Dur could never truly live a life free of crime. They would rather die than be deprived of the thrill of immorality. After Pim inadvertently planted the seed, it was Nee’s idea to establish the laundromat and he is also the one who interacts with the public the most. He has a certain charisma that easily deflects suspicion and makes folks believe he’s trustworthy and innocent. It’s how he got himself and his brother out of trouble with their dad, teachers, and other authority figures when they were young, and the skill is still serving him well now. You’ll often hear of Nee offering free laundry services for the local fire department or paying for dinners for the local hospital staff. In this way he’s spreading smiles like Daddy Pim wanted, and he does genuinely enjoy it. Not enough to quit crime, but it’s a nice bonus. While Nee came up with the idea, Dur is the muscle behind it, working behind the scenes to keep things running, including engaging in all the shady business deals that are the true reason this laundromat exists. He’s the Saul Goodman type, able to weasel his way into all the best deals and to keep the exorbitant amounts of money flowing no matter how much he’s screwing over others. 

While Nee’s people skills would not amount to much without Dur’s undercover dealings, Dur would be nowhere without Nee’s ingenious ideas and excellent deflection skills that allow him to do the work he does without trouble. It’s what makes them such a great team, knowing exactly what the other needs to succeed without even having to say so. It’s that twin intuition. And of course, when their work makes it necessary to kill (the definition of “necessary” being VERY loose), they’re both all in just like their childhood hero, just with better cover-up skills.

Does Daddy Pim know what’s really going on? Or their sisters? How would this affect the Smiling Friends if the truth came out? None of that matters because they won’t get in trouble. They’ve learned from last time. Plus, their family members know better than to ask questions. Sure, Pim might start to worry a little when he reads an article about the latest unsolved murder in town, but that could have been anything. He ought not to be so mistrusting of his darling boys. They wouldn’t do that anymore. But if they did, he can’t save them this time, so he’d rather not know.

[cursecuelebre]

Using Tarot within your Spellwork & Spellcasting

Purpose

Tarot was created for divination purposes however Tarot is a tool in our witchcraft or folk traditions, it can help advise and push you to do things that will make your life better and easier. There is a lot of divination tools like Runes which are magic themselves, Oracle which can also work really well, same with charm casting, etc. these tools can help manifest things into our lives. Simple as putting a card near a candle flame. I am focus on Tarot cards in this blog but play around and see if these methods can help you.

If you believe that Tarot is infused with energy which I believe, it’s more than just paper and ink. Yes can it be a regular deck of cards yes but we can infuse them with our energy drawing it from other energies that bring them almost like alive in a way. I do interviews with my decks and every single one has a different energy and purpose in my practice. This will definitely help with Spellwork.

I use the cards as a source of power, major and minor arcana, sometimes I’ll shuffle and let them pick the cards or go through the deck and pick out the cards that I think will really work in the spell. I recommend doing the latter since it’s more good on your intuition and more accurate. You can charge them using the moon or incense or even sound. You may have specific decks for specific spells for example if you are doing a love spell maybe using a romantic deck themed cards Sexual Magic (Only 18+), Romance Angels Tarot, the Lovers Path Tarot, if you are doing shadow work spells or darker forms of magic get a darker deck like Haunted House, The Black Tarot, Bianco Nero deck, etc. if you’re doing spells that involve a certain practice of paganism like Celtic magic in Welsh traditions the Llewellyn tarot or Italian Folk magic the traditional Visconti deck. I should mention if you’re working with animals or nature there’s is plenty of all animal decks like Woodland Wardens which is a really great deck. These specific themed decks can really help with symbolism, energies of certain entities, if you’re having a hard time finding certain decks oracle decks can really helpful in this sense.

But if you just want to keep it simple use any witchcraft or magic themed deck, heck any deck that you feel comfortable to be using in spellwork. A simple RWS deck is good enough!

You can also do a quick read on what type of spell and if you need to do one.

Methods of placement

1. Charging an Object

I like putting said cards in a circle or cross formation leaving the center blank. You can most definitely put a card in the center for a bit extra energy. You can add an oracle card to fill the center as well, I don’t have specific placements of the cards really if I’m creating a specific spread I’ll use the same cards each time but you can use directions, shapes like the seven pointed star and pentacle, elements, Zodiacs, etc. you can always be creative with it. But I do prefer putting the main card that is the main point of energy above the object.

Charging an object can multitude of physical things for this example I’ll use an amulet my Mjolnir which symbolises protection, strength, courage, and overall the spirit of Thor. So I can charge this during a Thursday if I really wanted to (but I’m impatient woman) so I’ll take any card that shall resonates with these attributes if you have a specific card for a deity like Thor it’s good to use in this sense. There are multiple cards for Thor I associate with the Tower, Emperor, Strength, but I’ll use Strength and Tower. Negative cards to me in this context doesn’t matter rather what it represents but use your intuition if you have a better understanding what energy fits right and most definitely can use more than one card. It might take awhile to find some cards to help during this step which perfectly okay, read the guidebook or traditional meaning of each card if you still unsure for beginner or advanced there is nothing wrong with that.

I got 7 cards for this spell and depending your space you can switch up the spreads, limit the cards even one card can be powerful, switch to a different surface.

Strength (main focal point) for courage and endurance and strength

Seven of Wands for protection and defense

Two of Swords for boundaries and protection

Ace Of Pentacles for wealth (possession which this case the amulet)

Moon for enchantment and magic to give the spell bit more energy and power.

Tower for Thor representative

Ace of Swords for defence and offense

It’s helpful to write down why you pick certain cards especially for the chant. You can light a candle and burn incense to get in the mood for the ritual. I use a bell and go into a circle calling out the cards names “Strength I waken thee!” I like to be dramatic lol over each one to essentially call upon them. Of course call upon the deity that I have represented in this spell of course, evoking Thor to help for this ritual. You can do it first or after awaken the cards. Then once you’ve completed that it’s time to draw that energy into the amulet, by using a wand really helps in this process but your finger or pen or anything pointy can work!

“Strength I call upon thee for blessing of this amulet of courage and fortitude!” Then imagine energy coming from the card as you slowly dip the wand’s tip into the soft energy then pulling it to the amulet I tap the amulet around three times or you can even blow on the amulet. Then do this for the number of cards you have. For Thor, I lift the amulet up from the table to the ceiling and praying for Thor’s blessing of protection.

Conclusion

Now you’ve done all that it’s time to wrap up the ritual, depending on your practice and preference you might want to leave the amulet and the cards as you have them for a time till the next day maybe have near crystals or charging beneath the moon. For me I thank the cards for their help and Lord Thor’s for his before by lifting the card close to my lips whispering “Thank you” it’s a mindful gesture and having complete trust and thanks. Placing them back into the deck all except the main focal point card of the spell which is Strength keep the main focal point card out, then take it to your altar placing it there with the amulet ontop of it. I set my mjolnir and the Strength card on my Norse altar next to Thor lighting his candle for awhile not too long nor too short. Again it might depend on what spell you might be doing.

This doesn’t just have to be an amulet of course but jars, crystals, spell tools, statues, talismans, Poppets etc.

You can also perform candle magic Just be mindful of wax make sure the candle wax can be caught in a dish or there is plentiful space from the card so wax won’t drip onto the card cause that wouldn’t be good. Just place the candle in the center of the ring of cards. I’ll probably make a specific blog about this method.

Even though I have my own method there is nothing wrong to mix it up and doing your own thing. There is plenty of ways to use Tarot not just for divination. I hope this blog gave some folks inspiration in their witchy works!! If any questions please feel free to ask on this blog or the ask me button! 💖