#Vocational Truck

[bayshoretruckcenter]

2024 Western Star 47X 48" Mid Roof

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[sawbeentheblog]

Top Semi Skilled Jobs You Can Start Today Without a Degree

In today’s job market, many people are looking for career opportunities that offer good pay and job security but don’t require a college degree. Thankfully, semi-skilled jobs are an excellent choice for those who want to enter the workforce quickly, develop useful skills, and build long-term careers without spending years in school. Whether you want to work in construction, logistics, healthcare,…

[ritzperez]

Ford 26' Box Trucks

The Ford F-650 and F-750 are designed to tackle tough jobs with ease, offering a work-ready frame for seamless customization. Engineered for efficiency and reliability, these trucks provide the perfect foundation for a variety of vocational applications, from construction to delivery. Upgrade to a powerhouse that adapts to your business needs.

https://www.bayshoreford.com/ford-26-box-trucks.htm

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #15

April 19-26 2024

President Biden appeared along side Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senators Ed Markey and Bernie Sanders to announce major climate action. Biden announced a program, Solar For All, 7 billion dollars aimed at supporting low income house holds install solar power in their homes. The program will support 900,000 households across the country getting solar. Lower the average energy bill for a family by $400 a month and avoid more than 30 million metric tons of carbon pollution over the next 25 years. The boost in solar installation will help create 200,000 new jobs across the country. The President also announced the launch of the Climate Conservation Crops. modeled on FDR's Civilian Civilian Conservation Corps and JFK's Peace Corps, Biden's Climate Conservation Crops will be a program where young people can connect with climate projects across the country and be paid to help protect the planet. The Corps will be 20,000 strong, with 2,000 openings listed right now on their webpage across 36 states DC and Puerto Rico.

The Department of Labor finalized a new rule on overtime. Currently employers are only required to pay overtime to workers making under $35,568. Under the new ruling that will be raised to workers making $43,888, and in January 2025 raised again to workers making $58,656 and under. This will bring overtime pay to 4 million more workers and transfer $1.5 billion from the pockets of companies to workers. It also fixes to raise the level with inflation every 3 years starting in 2027.

The EPA announced a $1 billion dollar program to help replace heavily duty vehicles with clean energy versions. There are currently 3 million class 6 and 7 vehicles, school buses, box trucks dump trucks, street sweepers, delivery trucks, bucket trucks, and utility trucks, in use. 70% of the funds will go to replacing School Buses with Clean energy buses and the remaining 30% will go to replacing Vocational Vehicles like dump trucks and street sweepers. Heavy Duty vehicles on top of green house cases release harmful nitrogen oxide and fine particulate matter and replacing them will not only combat climate change but improve public health.

The Department of Interior took actions to protect 13 million acres of Alaska wild land is protected and to secure the livelihood of Alaska Native peoples who rely on this land. The Administration refused oil and mining rights on the vast areas of Alaska land as well as a 210 miles road through the northern wildernesses. This area represents valuable habitat for caribou and endangered polar bears, as well as millions of migrating birds.

The Department of Transportation announced finalized rules requiring airlines to give automatic cash refunds for canceled flights and other inconvenience. The refunds will be automatic meaning passengers will not have apply for them, prompt the airlines are required to refund a credit card purchase in 7 days, and require repayment in full and in kind, airlines can not substitute travel vouchers for cash. The DOT also announced new rules to protect airline travelers from junk fees, airlines and ticket agents must now clearly tell travelers upfront about all fees so no one is surprised by a hidden fee.

The EPA announced finalized rules on emissions standards for fuel burning power plants. The new rules include a tightening of Mercury and Air Toxics Standards, requiring a 70% reduction in mercury. It also had rules protecting ground water, new rules will require coal powered plants to remove 660 million pounds per year of pollutants discharged through wastewater, and for the first time federally regulates the dumping of coal ash, requiring safe dump sites that will not leak into ground water. Finalized rules require coal fired and new natural gas-fired power plants to capture up to 90% of their carbon pollution

Security of Transportation Pete Buttigieg attended the ground breaking of a new high speed rail project to connect Los Angeles and Las Vegas. The Biden Administration announced 3 billion to support the project 5 months ago. At 218 of all electric green rail the project promises to be the fastest way to get from LA to Las Vegas. Planned to open in 2028 just in time for the LA Olympics it is the first of many planned high speed rail projects. The Biden Administration has promised $66 billion for high speed rail and the largest single investment in Amtrak ever.

The FCC announced a new rule restoring Net Neutrality. Net Neutrality requires internet service pervaders to treat all websites equally and not slow certain ones now or speed others. In 2015 under Obama the FCC passed a rule requiring Net Neutrality. However in 2017, the FCC spread headed by Trump appointed Chair Ajit Pai repealed the rules. A patchwork of Democratic controlled states, lead by California passed state level laws requiring Net Neutrality forcing ISPs to de facto keep it in place. Late last year President Biden got the opportunity to replace Pai on the FCC, giving the FCC a 3 to 2 Democratic majority which voted this week to return to the Obama era rules and protect Net Neutrality nationwide.

The FTC passed finalized regulations to ban noncompete agreements in nearly all cases. These agreements, which cover 18% of American workers, about 30 million people, prohibit workers from joining or creating competing companies for a certain period of time. The FTC estimates that workers will earn an average of $524 dollars a year more and up to 8,500 new businesses will be created each year. The new rule will still allow noncompete for senior executives who make up less than 1% of the work force. Like with the FCC, two out of the 3 FTC commissioners who voted for the new rules are Biden appointees.

The Departments of Health and Human Services and Interior have announced a joint, $1 billion project to connect tribal communities to safe drinking water. Roughly half of Tribal households lack access to clean drinking water or adequate sanitation.

At the White House The Biden Administration announced plans to protect, restore and reconnect 8 million acres of wetlands and 100,000 miles of rivers and streams. This effort will include state, local and tribal government as well as private efforts along with the federal government to protect and restore the nations freshwater environments.

The Department of Health and Human Services announced a new rule boosting privacy protection for abortions. Republicans in states like Alabama, Texas, Oklahoma and Idaho have tried to make it a crime to leave the state to seek an abortion in a state where it is legal. The new federal rule would make it illegal for health information to be shared in these cases

Vice-President Harris announced a new rule requiring staffing standards at Nursing Homes across the country. The new rules will require registered nurses on duty 24 hours, seven days a week. This represents the first time the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services have required specific numbers of nurses and aides in Nursing Homes that get Medicare and Medicaid funding.

The Biden Administration Announced a $6 billion deal with tech giant Micron to bring high tech manufacturing to New York. The deal is expected to see Micron invest $100 billion in Syracuse New York area as well as build a factory in Boise, Idaho. The deal will create 70,000 new jobs. It is part of the Biden Administration's effort to bring high tech chip manufacturing to America.

The Department of Education finalized the most comprehensive federal protections for Trans and other Queer students in the nation's history. The rules also overturn Trump era rules on how colleges should handle sexual assault and harassment.

[re-lmayer]

i've found myself in a bad situation. the tl;dr is i have to move, but i can't afford to. i'm a disabled student and just do not have the funds required to rent a truck, hire movers, and cover deposits. so, i'm offering various services on my kofi, but if you don't need those you can also donate there or via paypal. my cashapp and venmo are both erinshelley91 if you'd like to donate on those platforms (i couldn't figure out how to link to those)

if you can't afford to commission me or to donate, reblogging this post and sharing my twitter thread is a free way to help me out and is so appreciated!

more context and stuff under the cut, i just don't want to make a long post on ppl's dashboards

my landlord has been cheating on his husband, and their relationship is rocky. he also has a massive spending addiction according to his husband. his spending addiction is making him not want to perform the actual duties of a landlord, because investment costs are cutting into his shopping spree funds

ex, he is illegally not fixing a leak in the shower of the upstairs tenants, and claims the costs are more than their rent. he told them to "figure it out, or get the fuck out." (verbatim.) he also told me it would be cheaper for him to not have tenants at all bc his utility bills would be smaller. he then left it to ME to inform another tenant to leave (then gaslit me and denied it in front of his husband when his husband questioned it)

in his words, we have 90 days to leave. i am disabled and a full time student and have been living on my fafsa returns, and the last job i had made one of my disabilities worse to the point i've had intensive physical therapy (several hours several times a week) and am likely going to have to undergo surgery

i'm also mi/nd, so even on a good day i'm not very well equipped to handle things, and the recent stress has also caused my therapist to see me several times a week in lieu of institutionalization

all that said, i'm not in a good spot physically or mentally, hence the best i can do right now is offer some of my skills on kofi

i'm currently working with my state's vocational rehab to try and find a suitable job until i can get my degree, but even then i simply would not be able to afford the costs of a sudden move in the timeframe i've got to work with

UPDATE MARCH 25, 2024: i want to invest in a scooter to do gig work like doordash. this will let me work at my own pace, and earn towards the move myself, then i'll have some more independence to continue doing that after as well

they require 50cc or under, which means i could get a scooter for under $1,000. i'd also need to cover fees to renew my license (i let it lapse since i haven't had a vehicle), get a helmet, and get insurance (roughly $100 annually)

i also made some amazon wishlists for folks who would like to help but prefer to know exactly where their money's going. i have one for housewarming stuff here, and one for necessities here

update as of april 5: my cat peed on my bed, and since it's a memory foam mattress it soaked all the way through and ruined it

update as of april 7: she did it again. this time there's blood in it

update as of april 14: i still haven't been able to take her to the vet, but i've been trying to do at home remedies

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| My fellow Colonel

Y’all asked for it and here it is. Whew, I wrote all of it today so here’s to hoping it is tolerably alright. Also, as an aside, I am just shy of 1k followers and that’s astounding to me. I had to rebuild this blog from scratch in December after two previous deactivations where I lost a similar amount collected over a far longer time. I’m truly so grateful for each of you who take an interest in sharing this little corner of the internet with me. Thank you, thank you!

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ with additional chapter warnings for gore and violent character death, brief mention of racial discrimination and a very dark headspace for Ida at times including brief yet crassly recollected sexual assault

April 1945, escape spoilers ahead

“Bitte.” Ida kept her hands placating, outstretched and harmless by her side, the most open expression on her face that she could summon as she stared the woman down, “Bitte nicht!”

For eleven days she and Smith and Cleven had managed to scrounge their way westward, evading recapture or altercation. But eating from the dead horses on the side of the road was out of the question, agricultural fields were churned to sludge by Amtrak’s and the small amount of wheat berries they found in one abandoned supply truck had long since ceased to fuel their weakening bodies.

They had passed by a camp, one that they observed from the shelter of the woods to be abandoned or liquidated, once used for civilian labor, judging by the signs. After a careful reconnaissance it was agreed that Ida should go and act on her hope that the commandant's empty dwelling may not have been completely ransacked. That there might be some leftover provisions either there, or in the homes of the other personnel. She had had no luck at the commandant’s, it had been empty, no luck in the next idyllic little shack either, only the eerie knickknacks of some bygone person whose vocation it was to deal in pure evil.

In the third house she had found jars of spoiled milk, tubers of some sort gone to sprouts but she did not care, she grabbed a ratty towel lying on the floor and made a sling for them. She was in the process of prying a loose floorboard up, anticipating some root cellar below when the whining creak of a sneaking step sounded behind her in the still place.

She whirled around in a crouch, half expecting either one of her companions or else one of the many starving children they encountered on the road. Instead, silhouetted inside the bright doorway there was a woman, in the uniform of a guard and with a Lugar poised at the ready. Ida felt a cold spike of fear at the flashing recollection of her last encounter with such a female, at the horrid misery that was Ravensbruck, the complete and entire lack of respect shown to her or her girls by these indoctrinated tools.

Ida’s grasp of German had been sufficient enough to keep herself and her companions away from suspicion in their occasional interactions with passersby. While she wore the heavy overcoat of a military man, it had no markings, and it was just as likely for some freezing civilian to steal it off a carcass as it was for an American female officer to be on the loose. Ida knew this and she tried to play at being dumb, pointing to the food, explaining in unstudied desperation that she was starving.

The female guard observed her coldly, her impassive face showing a certain lack of curiosity or even remote interest in Ida’s narrative that made her heart quicken with a presentment of a swift and sudden execution. She has seen these guards lift a gun, squeeze the trigger, and move on boredly all in the matter of a second. What about her own features or story were so compelling to prevent it?

“Bitte nicht!” She repeated again, choosing to take a step forward, eyeing the woman’s grip and posture, professional, soldierly, the woman left little opening for Ida to capitalize on, but she would rather get a bullet in the gut while fighting than be shot hunkering over stolen potatoes.

There was a darkening in the doorway, it caught Ida’s eye right before she timed her launch. It was Cleven. His appearance made her hesitate a moment too long. He had his arm barred around the guard’s throat in an instant but the pistol was out of his reach and one stride too far away from Ida’s grasp. Unlike the hapless children in the forest that had attacked them days ago, this officer had bullets. Ida felt the searing tear of its bite smart her shoulder, blurring her vision in pain before she rushed in, clasping her own hands around the pale wrist.

Cleven had the woman’s eyes rolling back with his grip, her grapple at his forearm growing feeble as her oxygen ran low. Another shot rang out, a bullet embedding in the ceiling rafters as Ida managed to wrench it away at last. She turned it on the woman and fired, only to find her luck run out again, as well as the chamber.

There was a knife in the guard's boot, both women seemed to think of it at the same instant as the guard became possessed with a final animated struggle to reach for it, desperate to break out of Cleven’s strangle. But Ida wasn’t about to watch another friend die, or miss her chance to go home, to bear witness to what her girls, her men, her brother were yet enduring, not to spare herself a fleeting moment of misplaced mercy. She dove for the boot, wrenched the knife free from its sheath and drove the blade in under the sternum, carving it upwards as she herself rose to her feet. Her wrist was fully in the chest cavity, arm covered with warm still living blood, by the time she saw the guard’s head loll impassively against Cleven’s chest, the soul finally gone dim behind the eyes.

“Sweet Jesus.” He stepped back from the corpse, letting go. Ida felt the weight of the body in her wrist as her grip on the knife was all that kept it standing. She tore the weapon free with another sickly gush, and blearily observed it crumple to the floor.

“There are spuds.” she told Cleven as she braced her hands on her knees, nodding to her abandoned sack of potatoes. The edges of her vision were blurring from the exertion, her coat sleeve was soaked to the elbow, but she had a weapon now and a dead Nazi at her feet. Both sat well with her.

The potatoes bought them another days walk, with Smith using the ratty towel to wrap Ida’s shoulder, it was only a flesh wound. That evening they had another run in, but this time it was with the friendly faces of gum chewing yanks who were welcoming with their smokes and their K rations. Poor infantry boys, they were bamboozled by the existence of a female officer, the experiment of integration having only added to the flyboys somewhat derisive glamor. But it was mostly awe, and a healthy amount of respect, that they showed for the blood smeared lady Colonel.

“That make you one of Brady’s Banshees?” one bright corporal made conversation with Ida as he allowed her a seat beside himself on the hood of a tank, it was a hitched ride into Belgium.

“She is Brady.” Smith drawled for her, enjoying far more than Ida how gobsmacked the man was to be in the presence of feminine greatness.

They were welcomed warmly everywhere by their fellow allies, ferried like heroes on any conveyance possible. Smith was their cheery intercessor, knowing her superiors were of so torn a spirit and conflicted of conscience as to be half inclined to go back to where they came from. In truth, Ida could hardly bring herself to board the last plane -an unbelievable courtesy taking them from Paris straight to Thorpe- as all she could think on were what repercussions might have been exacted on the others for their escape. And what cruelties she had left her brother to endure without her.

Cleven was not much better; Egan, Maureen, all of them still left behind. As they took their seats on the benches, felt the old nostalgic rumble of the engines, not of a Fort but of a Gooneybird, what should have been a lightening of spirits as they soared over the channel was instead a dismal camaraderie of guilt.

That fateful night when they had all agreed to escape before crossing the Danube, the organization had been infuriatingly chaotic yet the groups were chosen with emphatic pragmatism. The guards were used to watching certain persons in company with their favorite fellows. The Bradys, the Buckys, Smith and Murph, each had some comrade the Germans expected to be their partner in any subversive endeavor. With this in mind, their agreed-upon groups were intentionally fractured to confuse their captors, each hoping to meet up somewhere on the road or in the forest.

Cleven and Ida had waited only a few hundred yards in the tree line for over an hour, hoping to be joined by their fellows. In the end only Smith came, with the word that the gig was up, Egan had been detained, John Brady never even began to saunter off before they closed the perimeter. No more were coming. It took all of Smith’s vicious logic to keep the officers from going back, she had to lean on reminders of reprisals and certain death, how they could in no way alleviate the suffering of the others by rejoining them.

What they could do was carry through, escape, go back to England, spread the word, liberate.

Despite this inner turmoil, Ida felt like kissing the ground when her feet landed on East Anglian soil. Or, rather, the cement of the old familiar runway. Instead she settled for Crosby‘s cheeks, the beaming fellow being so utterly honest in his welcome that some tiny part of her melted in momentary relief at having actually made it. That hadn’t really sunk in, not until there was an English mist pelting her face and Harry’s crinkled cheeks between her hands.

“A major?!” she repeated his rank and felt prouder than his mother in that moment while Harry blushed scarlet under the affirmation.

“A-and a father.” tumbled out of his mouth as a deflection except, that subject made a great hullabaloo too, with even Cleven growing exuberant in his congratulatory shoulder slapping. “What am I doing makin’ you stand out here, get in the jeep sirs, I’ll take you to a hut, or-or the club? Or the doctor?”

Both Ida and Cleven stiffened in their swing into the jeep at the last suggestion, a brittle defensiveness tightening their smiles, “Bed and board are all we need, thanks Crosby.” Gale gave him one of those devastatingly final little nods of his.

They kept him occupied and rambling on the ride, updates on new crews, new buildings, Jeffreys, Meatball, the improvement of rations, tales of bombing Berlin, the prospect of victory within reach. By the time he’d parked outside Cleven’s old barracks, Harry knew next to nothing about their own experiences, and he felt that somehow to have been quite calculated.

“There’s still a ladies sector, Colonel,” Harry assured Ida, much to her confusion as to why there wouldn’t be, “I’ll take you and Smith there.”

The old hut was as she remembered it, same as all the others, curved metal amplifying the patter of rain and the monotonous comfort of Air Force regulated bunking. It hit then, no more wooden combines or roadside shelters. She was really back.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Smith asked, the place eerily quiet, even for midday.

“There at- there at work.” Crosby offered haltingly.

Suspecting something dreadful, or as Bucky liked to say of her instincts -sniffing out bullshit- Ida slowly turned to Crosby and gave him a stare, one she recalled having once effectively shrank the man by a few literal inches. Perhaps because it was remarkably similar to her brother’s. Harry bore up under it better now, oak leaf cluster on his breast or a hard three years adding some spine to him, she didn’t know, but still his expression wavered guiltily.

“At work?” she repeated his phrasing, “That what the kids call war these days?”

“A few, a couple, -some,” he settled on, “are on missions. We’ve been uh, we’ve been running a lot of missions. Picking up prisoners -like you guys.”

“The rest?”

“At work.”

“Where’s this work?”

“Uh, well, various posts, you know how it is-“

“-grounded?” She supplied.

“Well, yeah. Just like Douglass and me and-“

“They badly hurt? Who’re we talking about?”

“Colonel,” Harry begged her, looking mildly close to drowning on dry land and sending a wet eyed sos at Smith, “dozens of them are posted here. Grounded yes, but, in good positions, required positions-“

“Did they get corresponding promotions?” Ida hit back, “Were they grounded because they were too valuable or were they hurt? Or did they just get squirreled away in some cupboard with a typewriter?”

“Look, uh, sir,” Harry chuckled nervously, “a lot of them are on missions, some of them are at their jobs -where I should be right now. But, it’s true, uh, the brass thought that, well they weren’t sure, Ida, when we got word you’d escaped we wanted to welcome you back right and uh, we didn’t know what to expect. We’ve had a lot of reports. Some reassuring and a lot…not. Not reassuring at all. And uh, we didn’t know what to expect, they didn’t know and uh, depending on how you were, it could affect the morale. So they thought, clear the place out a little, yeah? Make sure you were -you were…”

“Didn’t wanna scare the kids.” Ida supplied, tone softened, suspecting she probably did look half witch from all her trials.

“We didn’t know what to expect.” Harry repeated, a significant amount of relief bleeding into his voice, like he was going to get choked up on her mere continued existence.

“Well I need a change of clothes, and I need a shower.” Ida smiled at him until he gave her a fastidious look while glancing at her blood stained coat and she sent him a sour glare in return, “And a nap. And then I dare say nothing about me will be cause for alarm, not even for general LeMay.”

Harry was back to chuckling nervously as he walked his way backwards out the hut. “Of course, yeah, uh, we tried to supply uniforms, laid them out -best we could scrounge, for now.”

“Thanks Croz.” Smith offered, trying to soften the ending of this interaction.

“Before you go,” Ida stalled him, “tell me a little about the new ones? Who should I know? What should I know? Hate to wake up in here and have to start making acquaintances from scratch.”

“Colonel,” Harry answered her in the most mournful voice, “there aren’t any new ones.”

That old whiff of cold dread was back. “Crosby.”

“They uh, after you went down, colonel they, they scrapped the program.”

“You cannot be-“ Ida rubbed at her throat, trying to get it to open up, wondering what the hell it must be like to be Gale Cleven and get to come back to Thorpe Abotts and nothing be different, get to be home and get to find everything where it should be because your own higher ups aren’t fighting against you right along with the bastards with the flak and the barbed wire and the endless taunts about women being made for breeding. “Crosby what do you mean scrapped? They shut it down?” she wished she sounded angry, but she knew it was a cry, and to his credit he looked ready to cry for her.

“Colonel I’m so sorry, the reports were so alarming and the-“ he shook his head, “-they grounded all female servicemen right after. Cut the program, if it wasn’t for Kidd they might’ve sent them all back, discharged or moved to the WASPS. Well, they stayed, but, it’s not- it’s not what it was, colonel.”

Ida bit her lip, that old throbbing pain from the old injury of her cheek bloomed again, it felt like arriving at the stalag in one too many ways. “Y-you said something about, you said some were up on missions.” She wracked her brain for it and found it, that one bit of hope and she clung to it like a woman drowning.

“Yeah!” Crosby was over eager to soothe the pain with the modicum of good news he had, “They are! Rosenthal he uh, he’s over the squadrons now and uh, he’s seen to it they are allowed up. Mostly uh, mercy runs or behind allied lines, they don’t want anyone captured but, they’re up. They’re getting their thirty missions. They’ve uh, they’ve changed the number, since you were here.”

“Thirty.” she repeated numbly.

Harry’s footsteps had long ago receded along the gravel outside by the time Ida allowed herself enough movement to sink atop the pristinely made bed in her filthy clothes and just stare at the opposite bunk of equally pristine sheets and all of it so pristine and so rigorous and so proud and so pristine and so-

The echo of her own scream startled her, banging off the tin walls and circling back to her. Ida felt more than saw the implacable Tallulah Smith jump in fright beside her, but that level headed woman knew better than to soothe her officer. Not after what they’d just learned. She bit her tongue and busied herself sorting amongst the clothes and provisions for towels, combs, soap, toothbrushes. Ida watched this rich display of care on the part of their fellows with a snarl bending her lip, she could taste salt and knew she was also crying and all that she could hear amongst the cacophony in her head was a desperate wail -she didn’t want combs and towels, she wanted her squadron back.

Some aspect of this heartbroken petulance must’ve shown on her face as Smith extended both a comb and towel to her with forceful kindness, “LeMay didn’t lay these out.” was all she commented. “Think of it as Harry’s hospitality. You look a mess, and won’t get any respect for it.”

Smith had some vantage point from which to speak, Ida knew. Native American with bronzed skin just shy of being segregated twice over, getting screwed over was something Smith had made into an art form of cat and mouse. Ida had long admiringly observed it; she never thought she’d need to adopt a similar posture to this degree. Not when she felt like grabbing at the knife still in her trench coat pocket and making a charming scene and all it would get her was confirmation of the reports.

Whatever those were. Alarming reports, apparently. It was so very upper brass of them all to find the enemy’s methods unfortunate and so shoot themselves in the foot like it evened things out.

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Ida insisted to Smith from her bunk, refusing more than the towel and comb.

They’d all been through hell for daring to be combatants. But Ida, at this news of her loss, was beginning to recall particular parts of her own hell she had not dwelt on since they occurred.

Colonel -the way each had called her that, sneering at the mere concept of a colonel with a cunt, an officer so easily breached, a leader made by her Creator to be bent over and taken. She’d had a squadron then, and no amount of scorn or cruelty could take that from her; no, only her friends could take that away.

And they had.

Robert Rosenthal was giving himself a little pump up speech as he stalled outside with his hand on the door knob, knowing he needed to knock first and that knocking would buy him a little more time to ready himself, and so he really should go ahead and knock. The pattering drizzle on his hat brim should have been human incentive enough to get inside already, if duty and honor and admiration weren’t quite cutting it today. But he stalled, even went so far as to cast an indefensibly juvenile and furtive glance over his shoulder at the shrinking form of the accommodating lady who’d passed him on his march here. A Lieutenant Smith, who had told him she was glad to be back and that her famed superior was still inside-

“Angry as God after catching the Israelites worshiping cows at Mount Carmel.”

Rosenthal knew Ida Brady had every reason to be utterly furious, hell -he was furious for her, with her, about her. And he had no right to stand there and wish she wouldn’t take it out on him, to defend himself with shitty excuses like the fact a few of the girls got to see the top of clouds because he had put his shiny and promoted boot down and asked for it. He wasn’t exactly the problem, perhaps, but he was, by sheer implication of it being men like him unable to require better treatment, at fault. And so, Rosie stood in the drizzle and gave himself one last minute to think about Colonel Ida Brady as she had been the last time he’d seen her, terrifyingly formidable and utterly kind.

“It’s no worse than your dread of it, I swear.” she had told him and Nash that night before their first time up, “I was relieved to have seen it.”

What had she seen since? He stared at the little leather binder in his hand and scoffed at the administrative mission that carried him here. To hell with it. He knocked, he waited, he knocked once more, and he went in.

The stipple of rain on the roof of an empty Nissen hut was a calming background noise he himself savored whenever possible. Despite their bare aesthetic and extreme practicality, there was a serenity to them as well, and on spotting a seated figure a few bunks down from the entrance, he felt a pang of empathy for the desire to just decompress.

She looked up at the sound of his footfalls, not startled in the least. Not angry. In fact, she looked utterly dazed, like the men he’d helped out of their forts after a bad run of it. A face he’d seen in the mirror once or twice or a couple dozen. There was a docile listlessness in her gaze that he knew better than to be comforted by, despite the selfish feeling of relief at not immediately being eviscerated about her squadron. She was gaunt, understandably so, her strong jaw so pronounced he could cut his thumb on it, the pallor of her skin jarred unsettlingly with her dark brows, set off in stark relief by her tangled, jet black hair. Her overcoat was half muddy brown, half doleful rust. There was a bloody story there, a recent one, not washed away by a hard rain or bath. Rosenthal didn’t have any doubt how that struggle had ended for her assailant: she was here, wasn’t she?

He’d never seen anything more magnificent in all his life than this battered figure sat on a pristine cot with dawning recognition in her eyes.

“Welcome back, Colonel!” he ventured, keeping his tone soft as befitted the setting, yet unable to keep the creeping happiness at her return from showing in his voice.

“Mm, yes. Rosenthal.” Ida was straightening automatically, rising from her seat, shrugging off her clumsy overcoat and standing near to attention at sight of the brass on his lapel, “I remember you. A Colonel now, I see. Well done.”

Rosie felt his cheeks burn, another juvenile thing, her hand extended itself to his surprise and he clasped it warmly, maybe a little too firmly. “Well that’s kind of you, Ma’am. Very kind. Welcome back, Colonel.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Apologies.” he stumbled, releasing her hand in hopes of regaining his thoughts. She didn’t look angry yet, she looked wary, “Just glad to have you back. There was…a lotta concern.”

“It was touch and go but -here I am.”

“Right.” There was silence after that, it was so thick that the quirk of his kind lips and the gleam of his eager eyes slowly dimmed and fell as no small talk resumed. “Uh, colonel,” he ventured, “due to those aforementioned concerns, uh, I’ve been asked-“

“Aforementioned? What kind of talk is that?”

“Ha, well, lawyerly talk I’m afraid. I need to get a report from you, colonel.”

“For God’s sake man, I just got here, maybe with a shower and a nap and a cup of joe I might have a report for you but- I just got here.”

“Yes.” he refused to wince, he refused to. He was a colonel now, he had to require unpleasant things every day from his friends. Today it was required from a hero. Small difference in a war. “And if it were up to me I’d give you weeks to do all that before asking a thing from you. But I can’t, colonel. They wanted an immediate, preliminary report. It’s -it’s the same as an integration after a mission. Less interaction beforehand, less time to confuse the details- you get my drift.”

“You’re under orders.”

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you say? God’s sake Rosenthal.” she was close to angry now.

“Sorry, ok, Colonel I-“

“Why the whole welcoming committee schtik? Just say what you mean.”

“It’s not a schtick, Ma’am,” he insited, heatedly, “it’s a genuine honor to have you back with us and a relief to see you safe. And yes, I have orders to get a preliminary report.”

“In future you can save us both precious minutes of our lives by being this forthright, please?”

“Understood.”

“Right, well. What’s wanted? What kind of report?” He didn’t fail to notice the sudden and very studied nonchalance that took over her gait, the way she leaned against the railing of her footboard, almost a slouch that made the lean line of her look entirely unperturbed. He wasn’t a good lawyer out of naïveté about such posturing. She was braced like hell for this, probably worse than he was.

“On uh, on your general treatment. Ma’am.” he decided to summarize it thusly.

“Well Colonel,” he had forgotten what a nice voice she had, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t gruff, it was simply nice, “if Gale Cleven’s under eyes didn’t tell you the food was meager and hardly nutritious, I’ll go on record to say so. But they did try, I think I can give them that. Looked like everyone was starving by the end.”

“Conduct of your guards?” he had his stupid little leather case open on his forearm and the not quite soggy notepad in it was being dutifully filled with scribbles.

“I’ve little to say against the Luftwaffe, they were honorable for the most part. I think you’ll get that same report from the others. There were a few incidents, but we were enemies. To be expected.”

“Right, uh,” the pencil drug a little “this is a general report so I’ll spare an inquiry into those incidents.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ida tried to smooth her face, she really did.

“Colonel -yes.” she watched him as he deliberated for a moment before seeming to recall her scathing admonition of before, and carried on resolutely in the bluntest manner he could summon, “Regarding your prolonged detention before the stalag. It’s our understanding you were not always under Luftwaffe jurisdiction?”

“That’s correct. Combatant status was not recognized for four and a half weeks.” Ida gave a clipped nod. “We were even briefly detained at a concentration camp.”

“I can’t imagine what you must’ve seen there.”

Ida stared back with some slight emotion flitting over her mask-like face at long last and Rosie felt maybe his own showed it, too, “From what I’ve heard, we may be the only ones to have left alive.” she said at last.

“Your testimony, what you saw there, it could become-“ Rosie drew in breath, “-invaluable.”

“I’d do anything to see justice done, Colonel.” she agreed, “Sometimes I think I dreamed such mass cruelty. Seems too large to be real, too awful to be abetted for so long by so many.”

“I saw what was left of one of the smaller camps. In Poland.”

“Mm, so you can imagine.” she retorted, but it was a kind retort.

“I don’t see much else when I close my eyes.”

“Mm.”

“Right, back to this uh, report, the question is, how were you treated before civilian status was adhered to?”

“Is this a personal report or a general one?” Ida inquired suddenly.

“The assignment was to ask about your own observations as senior officer of the female contingent of-“

“-then in that case, the treatment was barbaric, Colonel Rosenthal.” Ida informed him forcefully, “The Luftwaffe used plenty of rough tactics and one officer was particularly cruel to Cleven. I was informed my brother was dying and that my obstinance in denying giving them information was prolonging his torment. All of that I was prepared for, it was one soldier’s attempt to break another. The gestapo, on the other hand, were beasts. And the SS -sadists. They dealt in cruelty for the pleasure of it and my girls went through hell. Once in the stalag there was a reprieve. Then the Luftwaffe were relieved of command and it began again- if you expect details, come back with a larger notepad.”

Rosie gave a curt nod of his own in understanding, his brow creased at the implication.

“No one wants to see justice done for them more than I.” Ida went on, “But they’re still out there, and I’m here. And I-I don’t know that those are my stories to tell, Colonel. What I saw is plenty enough to hang a village. And it wasn’t just toward my girls.”

“At…at a later point, you’d be willing then?” he ventured, softly, no longer professional, “To tell me what you saw?”

“Larger notebook, Rosenthal.”

“Yes ma’am.” he knew a dismissal when he heard one, he even felt a brief and heinous relief at the prospect of slipping away on a high note. The dreaded scrapping of the program still undiscussed. “I’ll uh, leave ya to that shower.”

“It’s good to be back, Colonel.” she called to him while he was still maneuvering through a somewhat meandering exit, she called out this concession as if it were meant only in regards to him, “Like what you’ve done with the place.”

Well now that was -that was kind and that was unexpected and Colonel Robert Rosenthal may have let the door hit him on the way out.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[alexanderwales]

Excerpt from Timequake (1997) by Kurt Vonnegut

[H]is older brother Frank, an architect, had committed suicide after a nearly identical blow to his self-respect only a month earlier. Yes, and Frank Pepper would eventually be popped out of his grave by the timequake, so he could blow his brains out while his wife and three kids watched a second time.

Here’s the thing: Frank went to the drugstore for condoms or chewing gum or whatever, and the pharmacist told him that his sixteen-year-old daughter had become an architect and was thinking of dropping out of high school because it was such a waste of time. She had designed a recreation center for teenagers in depressed neighborhoods with the help of a new computer program the school had bought for its vocational students, dummies who weren’t going to anything but junior colleges. It was called Palladio.

Frank went to a computer store, and asked if he could try out Palladio before buying it. He doubted very much that it could help anyone with his native talent and education. So right there in the store, and in a period of no more than half an hour, Palladio gave him what he had asked it for, working drawings that would enable a contractor to build a three-story parking garage in the manner of Thomas Jefferson.

Frank had made up the craziest assignment he could think of, confident that Palladio would tell him to take his custom elsewhere. But it didn’t! It presented him with menu after menu, asking how many cars, and in what city, because of various local building codes, and whether trucks would be allowed to use it, too, and on and on. It even asked about surrounding buildings, and whether Jeffersonian architecture would be in harmony with them. It offered to give him alternative plans in the manner of Michael Graves or I. M. Pei.

It gave him plans for the wiring and plumbing, and ballpark estimates of what it would cost to build in any part of the world he cared to name.

So Frank went home and killed himself the first time.

[rhettabbotts]

call it what you want - a rhett abbott series || chapter one

series masterlist | next part

warnings: reader is called angel throughout. mentions of smoking and drinking. i believe that is all.

a/n: i am so nervous for this as it’s my first series so please be gentle with me. i hope you all enjoy!

Ten years ago���

“Rhett, slow down!” You shouted over the music that was blaring through the speakers of Rhett’s beat-up blue truck and the wind that was whipping through the rolled-down windows. You couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled in your chest. Dust was clouding behind the tailgate as Rhett continued speeding down the dirt-covered back road. 

“Woohoo!” Rhett bellowed, his dimple prominent as he grinned at you. He finally slowed down and busted into a fit of laughter at the state of your mussed-up hair. 

“You’re a damn lunatic, Rhett,” you fussed as you flipped the visor down to look at the mess on your head. 

“You love it, Angel. Your life would be boring without me.”

“And you would be in a juvenile detention center without me.”

Rhett knew you were right. From the moment you two met on the playground in fifth grade after you busted Noah Morrison’s nose for pushing Rhett off the jungle gym, he knew you’d be there for him. You were constantly keeping him out of trouble. You really were his guardian angel, even though you hated the childhood nickname. 

The truck slowed to a stop on the side of the vacant road, the evening birds were chirping and you could hear the cicadas starting their nightly song. The Wyoming sky was painted with beautiful pinks, the moon was making her appearance known. You loved this place, you loved being here with your best friend. 

Rhett turned the music down, switching the Def Leppard CD to George Strait. His taste in music never failed to amaze you. He hopped out of the driver’s seat and made his way over to your side, opening the door and holding out a newly callused hand to help you out. 

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you said in a posh voice.

“M’lady,” Rhett said in return, bowing as you stepped out onto the soft grass. He let the tailgate down, allowing you to hop on first before he followed suit. Taking out a pack of Malboros from his front pocket and lighting a cigarette, he let out a loud sigh. 

“You’re gonna give yourself lung cancer, you know?”

“They don’t call them cowboy killers for nothin’, Angel.” Rhett quipped, the white stick hanging between his lips, glowing ashes falling in little flakes. He had started growing his hair out, much to his mother’s dismay. But you thought it suited him, his curls were more prominent peeking out from the baseball cap he always adorned. You sat in silence as he took slow drags from the cigarette, Amarillo by Morning playing softly from the speakers. 

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we? Promise me nothing will come between us.” You were nervous as you spoke, your voice shaking slightly. 

Graduation was approaching and you knew you and Rhett had different plans. He was going to go to vocational school in Cheyenne, just a forty-minute drive from the ranch. You, however, were moving to Arizona. The thought of being separated from Rhett - being hundreds of miles away - made you feel nauseous. You didn’t know why and chalked it up to the feeling of anxiety. The anxiety of leaving everything you’ve ever known behind, moving to a place where you knew no one. Rhett could sense your anxiousness, so in tune with your emotions. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy, Angel. You know that. We’ll see each other on breaks. Four years will fly by before you know it,” he reassured you. 

As you sat there watching the setting sun, leaning on your best friend, you knew he was right. Nothing would tear you apart. 

You stayed close despite the distance between you. When you were home on breaks, your mother complained that all you did was run off with Rhett. He was there for you when you had your first heartbreak. You were there for his first ride and tried to be there for every ride after that. You were still inseparable, even after all of the years that passed and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Present day…

Rhett groaned as his pounding headache worsened the second he opened his eyes and was met with the blinding sunlight that was seeping through his open curtains. He stretched and felt his entire body ache. That damn bull they had him on the night before really fucked him up. At least he won. The muscles in his shoulder pinched and twinged, causing him to grimace. He had one too many beers and shots of whiskey last night. How the hell did he even get home?

His phone buzzed with a new text and he couldn’t stop from grinning at the sight of your name. You were confirming your celebratory lunch, you told him you were buying after his winning ride. He wondered if you were in the same distressed state he was in currently. It was just barely 8 am but his parents were bustling around the house, the Saturday chores had already begun. He rolled out of bed, reaching for the bottle of Ibuprofen he keeps stashed in his nightstand. 

Rhett sneaked out of his room and to the bathroom across the hall, not ready to face the look of displeasure on Cecilia and Royal’s faces. He washed last night’s sweat and dirt and alcohol off his body under the scalding water. After brushing his teeth and towel-drying his hair he made his way down the stairs to face his parents. Royal was already out in the barn while Cecilia was cooking breakfast. Smells of coffee and burning bacon hit Rhett’s senses and his mouth watered. 

“Mornin’ mama,” he mumbled as he placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. 

“You were out late last night. Heard you stumbling in,” Cecilia recalled. 

“Sorry. Met Angel for some drinks and-”

“Rhett, you can’t keep doing this. Your father and I aren’t getting any younger and you need to start thinking about your future past bull riding,” she said and Rhett knew where this was heading. It was a conversation that came up more often than not. 

“Mama-”

“You need to think about settling down, finding a nice girl. Instead of chasing all of those no good little-”

“Mama!” Rhett exclaimed, stopping her before she could finish her sentence. 

“Anyways,” she continued, “you are getting too old to be doing stuff like that. You’re twenty-seven. It’s time.”

Rhett doesn’t know what caused the words to tumble out of his mouth. He doesn’t know if it was the hangover clouding his judgment, the irritation he was feeling from the everpresent cloud of disappointment he felt whenever he was in the same room as his parents. But the words came out nonetheless. 

“I am seeing someone.”

Nice going, jackass. 

Cecilia’s face lit up with excitement, her hands clasped together as the questions came in rapid succession. Rhett couldn’t keep up, his nerves got the best of him and the only thing he could blurt out was your name. His stomach dropped the second he said it. 

“Oh, Rhett! This is- oh, you’ve just made me the happiest mother alive! You know I adore her so very much. How long?! She should come by for dinner! I need to speak with her mother. Oh, this is just so exciting! You know, we’ve been saying for a long time you two would end up together.”

Rhett flushed at her words. He hates lying to his mother, and he hates that he’s dragged you into this unknowingly. He mentally smacked himself as he forced out a smile for Cecilia. 

“Don’t say anything to anyone yet. We- this is all so new and we don’t want to tell many people. Mama I am begging you not to say anything,” he pleaded. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Rhett. I won’t say a word,” she said, mimicking zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the imaginary key. 

Rhett had to see you and he had to see you fast. His hands shook as he explained what had happened that morning and he couldn't bear to look at you. You sat silently eating your toast as he rambled on, waiting for him to finish before responding.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Your raised voice caused a few patrons to turn in the direction of the table you shared with Rhett. “Out of everyone you know, you said me?!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry, okay?! I panicked! She wouldn’t lay off and I had just saw your text and-”

You shoveled your eggs into your mouth as you scowled at your best friend. He wouldn’t stop apologizing, coming up with every reason in the world as to why he could’ve said your name to Cecilia a few hours prior. 

“You know everyone in town is gonna know by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know. I can tell her the truth, I can tell her I was still drunk, I can-”

“Rhett, stop. No, don’t do that,” you said. You sat in silence for a few moments, pondering on what the next steps were. “How long do we need to do this?”

“What?”

“How long do we have to pretend? A week? A month?”

Rhett’s eyes widened at your suggestion. He couldn’t believe you were going along with this. 

“Um, well… My parent’s 30th anniversary is coming up next month. It’s gonna be a big party. Maybe until after that?”

You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, nodding.

“Okay. Until after the party. Rhett, you’re gonna owe me big time.”

He reached across the table to grab your hand, thanking you repeatedly as you rolled your eyes. You finished your food without another word. Your heart was pounding in your chest as the thoughts swarmed your brain. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad, fake dating your best friend. Your friend that you’ve been in love with since seventh grade. Here you were now both pushing thirty and still single. It’s just a friend helping out a friend. You tried telling yourself this for the rest of the day, repeating it like a mantra, hoping it would stick. This next month was going to be absolute torture, for you anyways. You just prayed to whoever was listening that you didn’t slip up and confess your true feelings to Rhett, ruining everything that you’ve built over the past several years. 

[wanderingwomanwondering]

You can’t tell me that this...

And this...

...Aren’t the same image. And there’s something about the role of their shared vocation in their relationship. It’s what’s between them, connecting them and separating them in a way. The truck in 414 and the ladder in 610. Like they both have to mentally get past The Job™️ to see what more they are/can be to each other???

I think it’s interesting that buck was pointedly not in uniform when he saved (uniformed) eddie in 414 but both buck and eddie are in full turnout gear when eddie saves buck in 610.

I’ve talked before about why I think buck was “without his armor” aka uniform in 414. He had to save eddie as himself, not just as a firefighter doing his job. And season 5 bore that out. He was taking care of chris off duty, he was in the room for eddie’s breakdown off duty, he helped eddie remember his purpose and heal off duty. Buck was himself and not just his professional role. The two of them have more than just firefighting between them but they have to start seeing that and buck supporting eddie’s healing in s5 was the start or at least a huge step forward in that revelation.

Eddie is more reserved. More attached to his firefighter armor. He is growing and healing. No doubt! But he’s still a person who plays the deep things close to the vest and the only/main person who’s seen eddie's hand (buddie poker pic, anyone?!) when it comes to really deep breakdown-level emotions is buck. We all know that bobby is a close second (ie the post-shannon cage fighting arc) but this post isn’t about him lol.

Eddie knows buck has gotten close to him in a way that no one else really has and it scares the shit out of him. I know the fandom likes to act like eddie letting buck in is easy somehow but I honestly don’t think that’s true. My dude had to literally break down a whole ass door to get to the truly and fully vulnerable and hurting version of eddie. Anyway eddie still struggles with letting the deep stuff fully show, even with the people he loves and who he knows love him. He’s getting better - much better! - but he’s still not there yet. I think the high ladder and full turnout gear during the lightning strike somehow speaks to that???

In 6b I think Eddie has to do something similar to what buck did in 5b. While buck was kinda forced by the circumstances to start to literally and figuratively dwell in or more fully inhabit his deeper connection to the diaz fam, eddie has to choose to take off his armor. He has to choose to open up about how much buck means to him. This would be a nice progression from buck breaking down the door. Eddie has to let him into his vulnerability and pain. I think we’re gonna get that in 611 or later in 6b. The hospital visits in 6b are ripe for eddie's emotional unshelling and I can't wait.

I don’t think 611 will be a love confession or anything ofc 😔 but we will absolutely (eventually) get a heartfelt speech about what buck means to eddie and chris and how he has to come back to them because they love him and honestly can’t imagine their lives without him.

We already saw from preview that eddie is torn up inside over buck's accident. Now he has to let all that pain hang out. Buck was dangling from that ladder, and so was eddie in a way with no emotional harness. Buck was in the same emotional place back in 413/414 but we didn't get a full deep emotional buddie conversation about it. I'm hoping Healing!Eddie delivers his half of that conversation in 6b. I have a sneaking suspicion that eddie is going to say or show a lot of his emotional state while buck is unconscious and we may have to wait for the actual shared conversation between them, but maybe the show will surprise me and we'll get a good start to a real conversation in 611. *dreaming big*

[dogesterone]

the thing about 3d art for me and why i dont really wanna make money off of it is because for many years that was my dream. i learned to use blender when i was a teenager, took CAD and animation vocational classes in college, and got a bachelor's degree in video game development and 3d animation with a focus in 3d modeling. despite all of that work, all of that time and energy poured into it as a passion, i was never able to get a job. i must have put in hundreds of applications. all of them were rejected. i even moved all the way across the country in a gamble that cost me thousands of dollars and my truck just for the chance that maybe being in an area with a lot of game dev companies would make me more appealing. i think moving ended up being good for me for other reasons (like coming out as transgender, for example), but for my career it proved completely fruitless. all of that made me feel like my degree, my training, my skill with 3d art was all useless and a waste of energy. especially once i had a full time retail job that demanded my full attention and mental stamina, i just couldn't keep doing it. i gave it a couple more efforts, trying to advertise commissions on twitter and in a large discord server my friends ran, but my following just wasn't large or interested enough to give me clients. it weighed on me and was breaking me, so i gave up. i stopped trying. i committed my energy to things that i wasnt doing cause i got a degree in it, but instead things that i found fun. i started indulging in 2d art more. i committed myself more to HEMA. i started working on expanding my social circle and finding community. and those things, perhaps specifically because i wasnt doing them with career motivations, became so much more fulfilling than 3d art. now im seeing success: i made a few stupid bionicle shitpost drawings and. well. that snowballed an awful lot. ive started going to hema tournaments. ive cultivated a rich dating life. so because of that, i dont usually feel compelled to bother with 3d modeling anymore, cause it was such a source of stress. i had a problem i couldnt solve so i moved on.

[majorbaby]

started writing some postwar mulcahy stuff, a lot of it pretty critical of him as a character, feat. BJ when i realized i care more about him and BJ as mirrors in GFA

standard mulcahy disclaimer: my interpretation of him as a character is heavily tied to his vocation as a catholic priest. given that i have an overwhelmingly negative view of the catholic church as an institution and an even worse opinion of volunteer clergy in asia in particular, that means a lot of my views about him tend to be negative.

i think that's a valid interpretation to have because he's a tertiary character and often isn't given the opportunity for a three-dimensional person to be established. and also because i'm primarily interested in MASH as a satirical critique of the army, so i tend to care about where a character falls in relation to the establishment more than i care about their personal drama. hawkeye and margaret are exceptions to that rule only because their drama is so varied and heavily focused on.

they really pushed the 'crisis of faith' with mulcahy in GFA and i'm not into that. reason being, i think more people ought to have crises of faith when confronted with the reality that their all-loving, all-compassionate god has an army of earthly foot-soldiers who often do not seem to be motivated by compassion or love. It is comical to suggest that this is the first time mulcahy has wondered "whether god is deaf" honey there's a war on. I get it, it's his finale drama, but i think the problem is that (to his credit) it's reasonable for him to have had such a crisis earlier on during any of the other heartbreaking things he bears witness to so i was rolling my eyes.

what i did think was interesting was the drawn-out interaction between beejcahy (that's what i'm calling it! sorry lol). here you have two characters who are utterly beholden to their belief systems, which are oppressive to them and oppressive to others. and you also have a show that is completely oblivious to that most of the time, rarely having either character question their beliefs. i would argue that charles has done more to grow his worldview and that is because charles' worldview is positioned by the narrative as a character flaw he ought to grow out of. as opposed to the famously virtuous and unproblematic catholic dogma or standard WASP nuclear family programming.

and as i mentioned with mulcahy because i don't have a range of character traits or drama to point to without headcanonry, i have to give a lot of importance to his being a catholic priest.

so BJ's got his american dream and mulcahy's got the catholic church. i think it's totally valid for mulcahy to not want to share his disability with other people, but i also can't ignore that it's BJ who helps him keep that from the people around them, who'd of course want to help him. makes total sense to me that BJ would be understanding of that, because he does it himself all the time, and seems to think that's worked out soooooo great.

i find the bit he says about having already done his time in purgatory annoying because you don't volunteer to go to purgatory, not that hawkeye or BJ have anything to say about that lol. i know i am being a killjoy about mulcahy's warm finale moment but i cannot see past the unintentional parody.

he gets on the truck without anyone except BJ knowing what's happened, not even hawkeye who by virtue of being the protagonist had a closer relationship with mulcahy than anyone else on the show. as with BJ, hawkeye verbalizes that his doubt that he will ever see mulcahy again and also as with BJ i am inclined to trust hawkeye on that one. Imo, it lends further credibility to the argument against any kind of 4077th reunion. this part of their lives is over, and closure is achieved but there are still some major things left unsaid. without committing to any one headcanon for postwar mulcahy (partially because he was on aftermash and i have no interest in watching that), my view of catholicism being an unreliable support system and uncertainty around how he will process his trauma has me leaning towards a breakdown for him once he gets home.

[bayshoretruckcenter]

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[sawbeentheblog]

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[reyesstrand]

do know if natcha needed to film something else or something because i can’t really think of a good plot reason to send marjan away for a few episodes when she could’ve idk fought it gotten a union rep done literally anything other than quit and split

not really sure how to word this bc i’m still on the post episode adrenaline rush and i could probably find the words better tomorrow but: i don’t know that i would phrase it as quit and split, and i don’t think the show thinks of it that way either—she made a decision she could stand by given her own faith and morals. we know this is the hardest choice for her to make, which makes the payoff of her eventually getting to come back that much sweeter. sure going to a union rep might’ve been one way for them to go (and we don’t know—that could still happen, it seems like asha is on the 126’s side and will likely help them out in some way and could suggest going to the union) but i think marjan needing space to find herself again is the best way for them to explore the inner workings of her character, and shows us the sacrifice she’d make not only to protect potential people out in the world and her team, but herself. so much of her character has been tied to her online presence and this being used against her not only here but also back when she was trying to save the man from the truck in season two comes into direct contradiction with how much she loves having this kind of power to help people and let them be seen in her. she needs to go and find that inspiration for herself again.

i was also thinking about back in the season two premiere when she talks about michelle and how not everyone’s occupation lines up with their vocation, and the group discusses how they’re lucky because for them firefighting/being a paramedic is their calling. it’s marjan’s calling to be a firefighter but she believes so strongly in who she is as a person ethically and morally that her refusing to just….happily go along with a system that would ask her to be manipulated to avoid the stress of something like a lawsuit that would put them in a bad light feels not only so in-character but also like a really interesting story (that could potentially give us more info as to who she is). i feel like it’ll also serve her justice as a character for her to truly come back on her own terms. she gets to go away for a bit, go on her own little adventure, likely have a big save the day moment, and probably get hurt while she’s at it, resulting in the big payoff of the team rallying around her while she rallied around them when trying to keep the 126 together. it’s no secret she’s coming back but i think her being able to get away and come back not only gives us something more entertaining to watch but will really allow natacha/the writers to sink their teeth into the core of who marjan is, and that’ll propel her forward in the future

[selamat-linting]

so, i was enrolled in a vocational highschool. its the type of school that are halfway a tradeschool. its a program in my country that i quote here, meant to produce ready-made workers right out of the education system. the curriculum for every highschool major you took is different, but i personally never learn biology, geography and chemistry beyond the basics in middle school.

random aside over, for one year me and my classmates (computer programming major) had to share a classroom for normal school lessons with the guys majoring for heavy equipments engineering. one time there was an orientation presentation for them and we had to sit there as the teacher told them the kind of work theyre expected to do. so, theyre going to learn maths and physics and everything else so they know how to operate and fix industrial grade machinery like the massive trucks meant to ship coal around, mega structures to dig tunnels for mining operations.

during the last slide, the teacher showed them a slideshow of workplace deaths.. it was morbid, he said to us that death is inevitable on your line of work. its going to happen. of course we can minimize this by following safety codes, but accidents will happen.

and it doesnt register to me as weird at the time, but its stuck in my mind. like i had the vague sense that something wasnt right. and it isnt. like, he's showing kids that dying on the job, its a tragedy sure, but its normal. its fact of life. my country is an imperialized nation so they never try to lie about whats the purpose of our education. we are here to prepare for work, not to learn. and from the beginning, the oil and mining industry doesnt care about human life. and im thinking of the shares and stocks where all of those profits fueled by death eventually finds itself, in the pockets of men who might never see the inside of a oil tank. or where all the oils and minerals are heading, as i sit here waiting in a queue on the gas station to fill my motorbike even though there's an oil and coal processing site just a few hundred kilometers away still in border of my hometown.

worst part is i know this isnt the worst because someone out there who might even be younger than me is dying for the gasoline im getting, the circuit boards inside my phone, and i know one of my friends online is sleeping inside a car while office buildings and billboards stay lit and functional every day of the year fueled and powered by unimaginable amount of normalized deaths.

and im also thinking of the oil spills at the beach, the days that gets hotter and hotter every year. last year there was a gruesome car accident. an oil truck swerved off the sidewalk and killed a dozen people. its not the only major first accident in that place, as always the old complaints about public safety and roads came back for a while, and they might be satisfied that there's a barricade and a rule for large trucks not being allowed to be on the road during the day, but im also thinking of my friend who worked in the industry as a safety operator, complaining that half of the trucks are overdue for maintenance for years and the drivers license have expired but no one ever did anything about it because theyre on a constant deadline and spending time to do checks only makes the managers yell at you for missing a quota and you had to stay longer instead of getting some sleep or spending time with family, in a job where you already work 12 hours a day on average.

my point is, its all connected. just simply asking where the gas powering your car came from revealed a lot. i know this is retreading the basics but i think its good to remember how interconnected everything is. how the tragedies and genocides and social murders arent an aberration but a logical conclusion of the way society is organized. its a well oiled machine, excuse my pun. its all-encompassing, but seeing it as it is makes it easier to find its weak spot, areas where we can fight. this is why im a communist, specifically a marxist leninist, i do think workers' revolt with international proletariat society is the only way we could break free.

but anyway, all this is to brag about how i never learn geography in highschool and yet i can still name more countries and capitals than the average college student in the us so (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾). also now that i mention it i also never learn biology but i know more about the human body than your average terf so 😌 shitty schools is not an excuse 💖

[pepperinstarryskyicecream]

Getting into Dragon's Dogma recently since it was on sale on Steam and Capcom just released the trailer for it's sequel. At the start of the game I didn't expect much since it's 10 years old already but my god color me impressed 😩. I'm specially fond of the game design of the pawn system, really love how their AI assist the player both in combat and explore.

Having them loot every crate and corner and carry all the stuff feel like someone doing all the housework for you, which would feel like it's nothing worth mentioning but to a loot goblin like myself, it's really a big help and lifted my burden of having to loot everything in my line of sight and meet with inventory management afterward, this really does enhance my gaming experience and I wish more games would do this. Not to mention I like how they are all chatty and seem to have a lot to say regarding different situation, location and even remind us to double sure which road lead to our desired destination when we encounter a fork, or be careful around the edge. Their dialogues liven up the entire game so much more and make this journey not so lonely. Although some of the lines get old really quick but I think it's a part of their charm.

The class mechanic is such a wonder too, I usually main Mystic Knight and Sorcerer. Loving how the Sorcerer's spells are so impactful and make me feel like a god calling forth natural disaster into the battlefield. And MK is a very well executive vocation, I really thought this was just gonna be a fighter with some half asses combination of physical and magic, but to my surprise this class offers a lot versatility in both ranged and melee combat, as well as elemental damage. A shame that they won't be back for DD2 but the new Mystic Spearman seem very interesting too so I will give that one a try when the game come out.

Also, I played through the ending and BBI and the feels hit me like a truck, goddamn I really thought this was just gonna be an archtypical JRPG with the chosen one motif and the story would end with slaying the big bad red dragon 😭😭😭. Though, I wish they would elaborate more about the worldbuilding and the cycle throughout the main quest rather than dumping all of it in the ending.

Overall this is a great game and has made it way into my top 3 games list. Really wish I had played it sooner 😢