#and that no one should HAVE to work to have plentiful food and shelter and happiness

[phiralovesloki]

One thing I've noticed is the boundless energy and creativity that humans have when we're not unhappy, burnt out, or too busy being ground to death by capitalism.

One of my favorite ways to wind down is to watch streams of people racing each other playing a randomized version of the Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time. Let's look at some of the ways people work to make those streams happen:

players have to stream themselves playing the randomizer seed, which involves spending time figuring out how to set themselves up for streaming (e.g. capture card, software, appropriate hardware, controller, etc), as well as spending at least a couple of hours of their free time playing/streaming

a person, the restreamer, sets everything up so that the players' streams are visible on a separate channel, where viewers can watch the race; they have to stay online the whole time and make sure that there are no problems

someone had to design the restream layout, as well as item trackers, so that the viewers can see relevant information during the race, such as which items each player has found

volunteers are responsible for tracking the items, which involves paying a shitload of attention to their assigned player so they don't miss anything

volunteers also work as commentators, so they have to pay attention to the race and be knowledgeable enough about the game and the randomizer to be informative and entertaining

other people work behind the scenes to maintain Discord servers and websites for the community to make these races happen, including organizing tournaments

people are responsible for moderating the community, including dealing with cheating, determining and enforcing rules, and defusing conflicts within the community

several volunteers work to create and update the randomizer, constantly improving it, fixing bugs, adding requested features, and so on (basically, there wouldn't be a randomizer at all except for an incredible amount of labor from these folks!)

I'm probably missing at least twice as much information here, but all this to say: a fun thing I watch to wind down is the result of people spending their precious unpaid free time creating and working.

This is to say nothing of other points other people have raised. I stay home to take care of my kids right now, but I used to teach biology, and I miss it. My mom can't be trusted to babysit my kids because she'll clean my house without asking, because she just does it automatically. My husband desperately wants to get back to polishing up his several novels that he doesn't have the energy for.

Furthermore, automation was advertised and pushed as a way to free up our time. That's not really the point of it (this is capitalism we're talking about, automation is meant to provide the elite with cheaper labor, they don't care that it puts people out of jobs and into poverty, that's the point). But it should have been the point of it.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The housing crisis considered as an income crisis

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

A paradox: in 1970, everyday Americans found it relatively easy to afford a house, and the average American house cost 5.9x the average American income. In 2024, Americans find it nearly impossible to afford a house, and the average American house costs…5.9x the average American income.

Feels like a puzzler, right? Can it really be true that the average American house is as affordable to the average American earner as it was in 1970? It is true, as you can see from Blair Fix's latest open access research report, "The American Housing Crisis: A Theft, Not a Shortage":

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/

Fix also points out that is even more true of rents than it is of house prices. The ratio of rent to average income has actually fallen slightly since 1970. Rents are also, in some mathematical sense, "affordable."

Now, those of you who are well-versed in statistical card-palming will likely have a pretty good idea of the statistical artifact at the root of this paradox: the word "average." If you remember your seventh grade math, you'll recall that "average" has more than one meaning. Sure, there's the most common one: add several values together, then divide the total by the number of values you added. For example, a nonzero number of people have one or zero arms, so the average human has slightly fewer than two arms.

That average is called the "mean." The mean US wage is pretty robust: $73,242/year:

https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/A792RC0Q052SBEA/1000

But the majority of Americans are not earning anything like $73k/year. Since the Reagan years, the number of Americans living in poverty and extreme poverty has climbed and climbed. And while their declining income sure drags down that average, it's dragged way, way, way up by another group of Americans – the ultra-rich.

You see, as Fix writes, back in the Reagan years, America initiated an experiment in redistribution. Reagan enacted policies that moved most of the nation's wealth from the great majority of working people to a tiny minority of people who ended up owning pretty much everything. Throw their income into the mix, and the average American's income is sufficient to finance the average American home, with plenty to spare.

In other words, this isn't an "average human has fewer than two arms" situation, it's more like a "Spiders Georg" situation. Spiders Georg is a Tumblr meme about a guy who eats 10,000 spiders every day and is thus single-handedly responsible for the (false) statistic that the average human eats two spiders a week:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spiders_Georg

The American rich – Reagan's progeny – are the Spiders Georg of house prices. By hoarding the great mass of American national wealth, they create a statistical mirage of affordable housing.

Now, that's interesting, but where Fix goes next with this is even more fascinating. If the average price of housing (relative to average income) has stayed fixed since 1970, then it follows that the price of housing isn't being driven up by a problem with supply. Rather, these numbers suggest that America has enough housing, it's just that (most) Americans don't have enough money.

If that's true – and I have a couple of quibbles, which I'll get to in a sec – then the most common prescription for solving American housing (building more of it) is somewhat beside the point. For Fix, using public funds to subsidize cheaper housing is like using public funds to pay for food stamps for working people whose wages are too low to keep them from starving. Sure, we should do that: no one should be without a home and no one should be hungry. But if working people can't afford shelter and food, then we have a wage problem, not a supply problem.

Fix – as ever – has a well-thought through, painstakingly documented "sources and methods" page to back up his conclusions:

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/#sources-and-methods

And while Fix acknowledges that reversing the mass transfer of wealth from working people to their bosses (and their bosses' idle offspring) is a big lift, he rightly wants to keep the question of wages (rather than housing supply) front and center in our debate about why so many of us are finding it hard to keep a a roof over our heads. We need progressive taxation, higher minimum wages, protection from medical and education debt, and hell, why not a job guarantee?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/25/canada-reads/#tcherneva

I love Fix's work, and this report is no exception. He does it all in his spare time. Some nice progressive think tank should give him a grant so he can do (a lot) more of it.

That all said, I do have a quibble with his conclusion about the adequacy of the American housing supply. In California, we have a shortage of 3-4 million homes, a number arrived at through the relatively robust method of adding up the number of California families that would like to have their own homes and subtracting the number of homes available near those families:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_housing_shortage

How to explain the discrepancy? One possibility is that the price of housing is artificially low, because more than 181,000 people are homeless here. Hundreds of thousands of more people are living in overcrowded housing, with multiple families inhabiting spaces intended for just one (or even a single person). If all of those people were competing for housing, the price might rise even higher.

Think of the people who have given up looking for work – because they're not in the workforce, wages go up. If they were competing in the labor market, wages would fall. Maybe all those people would prefer to have a job, but they're missing from the statistics.

That's one theory. Another is that we're getting tripped up on averages again here. California does have some towns with many vacancies, extra supply that is pushing down prices; it's also got many places with far more people who want to live there than there are homes for. It's possible that there's enough supply on average across the states, but – as we've seen – averages are deceptive.

Ultimately, I think both things can be true: we have a wage problem and we have (many, localized) supply problems. Both of these problems deserve our attention, and neither is acceptable in a civilized society.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/24/i-dream-of-gini/#mean-ole-mr-median

[thetxtdevil]

Underwater Adventure

Shark!Taehyun x Marine Biologist!Reader *repost*

summary: You work at a marine life hybrid shelter and was assigned to take care of the sharks. One shark is one to look out for as he appears aggressive.

content: hybrid au, hybrid taehyun, human.fem reader, hybrid Kai and Beomgyu make a brief appearance, blood is mentioned, SMUT (minors dni), water sex, manhandling, underwater oral (f.rec), slight choking & gag, mating/breeding, biting, refers to reader as prey

word count: 2.2k

You love the beach and studying the sea life. Something about the cool breeze of the ocean, the taste of salty sand, and fish jumping out of the water makes you happy. Going through years of school, many hours of internships, and a lot of tears to become a Marine Biologist.

Once graduated you got yourself a job at Hybrid SeaLife Shelter. Not a job that you were hoping for, you wanted to work strictly with just animals not animals that were part humans but it pays the bills. It was fascinating actually, animal instincts clashed with human tendencies.

"You're assigned to the shark hybrids, Ms y/n." Your coworkers shivered, wide eyed at you when hearing your assignment as the manager looks without a care in the world. The shark hybrids weren't bad, you liked that they got their own pool with a nice view of the beach, plus two of the shark hybrids are less scary in nature except for one.

You looked at the folder with information about the hybrids. One paper titled "Kang Taehyun" accessorized with bold red statement, "agressive." You breathe deep, mentally going over a list of what to do with the great white shark hybrid. Don't go into his pool that’s his territory, cover any cuts you will have to get the scent of blood out of his sight, feed him plenty, remember to hide toys in the pool so he can hunt. This is not so bad right?

The other sharks were very cute and calm. One was a tall whale shark hybrid, she slowly swam throughout the pool, next pool was the nurse shark hybrid who spent most of her time on the pool floor reading a waterproof book about well... nursing. In a good mood, it was time to go to Taehyun's pool, it was big, dark, and full of rocks that stacked to let him hide. You look around not able to find him, you don't know if you should be worried or not.

Turning around to get the supplies ready you miss the sight of a dorsal fin above water gliding closer and closer to your way. You gasp at the feel of what seems like buckets of water being splashed on you. Whipping around to get a quick glance of the great white hybrid, his sharp toothy grin, paired with a few scars on his lips, his hair was wet shining the silvery color, water dripping down his neck accessorized with gills, his build was strong as you see his muscular arms flex as he dives into the water swimming away. You learned your first lesson, never turn you back on Taehyun.

"""

It was feeding time, the great white was picky he needed certain size fish of certain quantities. This made it a little difficult as you had to crouch at the end of the pool opening without a table or any other supplies so that you weren't getting a surprise shower.

The penguin hybrids were out playing, familiar with them they all said their "hi's" and waddled away until one of them, Kai, was playing with a polar bear hybrid, Beomgyu. You tell them to stop running along the pool but they don't and proceed to accidentally knocking you off balance cutting yourself while falling into the shark's pool.

Taehyun hiding behind the rocks waiting for his food catches scent of you. You're in his pool, your sweet blood is infecting his pool, his chest fills like it was burning, if he doesn't do anything now you're going to be his next meal.

You're mind is in shock, you have excellent swimming techniques, but the fact that you were pushed in a predator's pool, and the pain of your hand increases you don't know what to do with yourself.

Taehyun swims so fast the water makes a wave helping your drowning body come up. His arms wrap around you lifting you out of the water placing you gently on the surface. He stares at you waiting for any sign of breathing. He stares at your peaceful body glancing at the bloody hand although close to death you looked beautiful to him. He leans closer to get a better look but you choke back up water in exchange for air making Tae quickly reach for his bag of fish food and swim away.

"""

The next day you were cautious about your surroundings especially when it came to feeding time again. While getting supplies in your peripheral vision you see the dorsal fin. "Don't you dare splash me" to your surprise the shark's head pops up with a frown.

"How’s your hand?" your eyes widen at the voice this would be the first time the shark has every spoken to you. You look to see the shark studying your bandaged palm. "It could be worse."

The man's big sparkling eyes look up into yours. Was that concern in those eyes? Is this big scary predator caring? "Come here" you without hesitation you walk towards him at the end of the pool. Taehyun stares at you not saying anything, you then lower yourself on your knees to get somewhat eye level. You’re stunned when quick movements were made, Taehyun's toned torso splashes out of the water as his arm reaches for your neck. He pulls you down close to his face, "Don't ever go into my territory again unless you want me to split you in half."

Your eyes begin to water in fear, looking into his eyes you notice the pure joy of having dominance over you. Taking a deep breath as best as you could with the webbed hand on your throat, you raise your bandaged palm out. Taehyun looks at it confused until your fingers press down on his sensitive nose leading him back down to the water. Both of you hold intense eye contact this son of a bitch liked that the squint in his boba eyes and small smirk sitting at the water's surface had your head spinning you couldn't react fast enough before he splashes your face with water.

"""

Interestingly, after that encounter Taehyun hasn't been hiding every time you come along his pool. He tends to show off his swimming, and every time you got dizzy with his sharp turns and overly exposed muscles. He still playfully splashes you, he could never admit this but he likes how your wet clothes cling to your body. More and more you got to admire the pointy teeth as the great white shark hybrid smiled during his time with you.

Today was physical assessment for the hybrids, when you had to check their basics such as height, weight, temperature, and more. An addition to having water hybrids they needed to be tested on their abilities inside water. You were thrilled when you found out that the facility set up a private pool, a rocky crater along the beach. It is nice to have the hybrids leave their boring home and see something new.

The crater was big, a hole in a cliff next to the ocean clear water filled the hole making a deep blue pool perfect to swim in. A wooden bridge built above the water easy for visitors to get in and out of the water. The place had the assessment tools towels, water, measure tape, timer, paper and pen.

You did the assessments separately for privacy. The whale shark and nurse shark giggle and share results of their swimming time they left to join the other hybrids leaving you and Taehyun.

Your hands were shaking while assessing the great white shark. Wrapping the measuring tape around his naked slim waist, he smirks as you bite your lip in concentration. You ask him to turn around to check his dorsal fin, your soft fingers lightly graze over the silky flesh making the man shiver. You tap his shoulder as a sign to turn and as he does his body get a close to yours.

Your face becomes red by the intimate presence of the shark. You can feel his eyes burning into you. "y/n" you quickly look up getting a closer look of his dark eyes above his cute sharp nose "aren't you supposed to test my swimming?" Torn away from your heated fit you quickly get the watch timer set, "whenever you're ready." Taehyun smirks at your flustered state diving into the water. There you got to watch his effortless swimming techniques leaving you in awe.

He passed with flying colors, you seemed more excited about it than he was. Looking at his perfect numbers you realize he was in the water staring at you, "Aren't you going to get out?"

"I need help doing so," he reaches his hand out for yours. You were confused knowing that he was more than capable to get out by himself but you helped anyways. Grabbing his webbed hand you see his infamous smirk instantly telling you that this was one of his tricks again. You were pulled into the sapphire water quickly swimming up for air. Wiping the water off your eyelashes you smack the man, "What was that for?"

All Taehyun does is giggle "you're just too easy to mess with." You grunt rolling your eyes as you swim to the ladder. Reaching for the metal pole you suddenly felt his body against yours. Turning around you see a different look in his eyes, something dark, something to fear. "Why are you running away?"

"I'm not I-i'm just-" his face was close to yours, nose brushing against yours. Whole body looming over yours, you feel his hands grabbing your waist trapping you in the water. "You shouldn't turn your back on a shark, they'll think you're prey."

You let out a pathetic whimper making Tae smirk. Lips so close to yours, "You think I can have a little taste?" Before you could nod he already pressed into a deep hungry kiss. You're stunned by state of events you have yourself in but you couldn't stop. Humming into his sweet kiss told Taehyun that you were getting too comfortable. The tender moment becomes animalistic as his sharp teeth scrape your lips making you cry out so that Tae could dart his tongue in.

It wasn't long until you were clawing at Tae's shoulders pleading for a gasp of air. "You humans and your need for air" he says backing away. Still catching your breath you watch as his body disappears into the water, the calm before the storm.

You gasp as you feel his face shoved in between your legs, nose rubbing against your swimming bottoms. He rids the garment shoving it into your mouth. You cough out the water running down your throat but inhale more as you feel Taehyun's tongue lap up your wetness underwater. His pointy nose puts friction on your clit resulting in your loud muffled moans and hands gripping tightly to the bars of the pool ladder.

You ride the shark's face his tongue deep inside you he looks up watching small bubbles of air floating around your squirming body so pretty in all the blue hues. Giving more attention to your clit, sucking it and occasionally lightly scraping his sharp teeth on your sensitive flesh to eventually have your release disappearing within the water, your legs were shaking not able to swim.

Taehyun swims up to surface, hands brushing his silver hair out of his face exposing his beautiful forehead, "Damn you're loud I can hear you underwater.” You glare at him not so intimidating from the exhaustion and your panties in your mouth. The shark's lips curl up looking at your state, removing the bottoms from your lips his hands then travel down to your legs guiding them to wrap around his waist. "So pretty" Taehyun says as his lips graze your jaw lightly kissing down your neck, "does the pretty prey mind if I breed her?"

Your eyes widen at the question but nothing but a groan slips from your lips. Taehyun could tell you weren't opposed to the idea. Sounds echo through out the crater as Tae's kisses become bites and his aching hard cock slides between your folds.

The shark widens his mouth on the crook of your neck biting down to pierce the skin. You then knew there was no running away as his instincts locks you into place and the tip of his dick enters your weeping hole.

Water ripples as Taehyun pounds into you hard. He is thick so much so that you actually think he may split you a part. When you ask him to slow down he does the opposite. Thrusting fast, he knows his mate can handle it and you do. Tae groans against your neck focusing on every sound you make in his ear. Your voice pitch becomes high and whiny telling the shark your about to come undone. Your pussy clenches milking Tae as he releases his load into you.

Unlatching from you neck, the shark licks the small droplets of blood. He had blood in between the scars of his lips smiling to reveal his sharp canines. Anyone looking at the hybrid would shy away in fear but you didn't, that was your little great white shark.

"Can you help me out of the water?" you plead, Taehyuns dark eyes light up to its usual boba pearls. With his immense strength he holds you out of the water quickly wrapping you in a warm towel and then kisses the his mark on you.

A nuisance,

TxT’s Devil 🦈

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

P.S. this was supposed to be a short though NOT A WHOLE ASS 2K FIC and I didn't put much detail but there you have it. 🫤

[gabessquishytum]

Time for me to be a little problematic maybe. 👉👈

Hob is a poor, peasant child, so when his parents, who have too many kids and are struggling to keep them fed, get an offer that Hob could get an apprenticeship with housing and food, they take it, no questions asked. They don't question the fact that Hob is 6 years old and a wild, almost untamable child, and what could the people possibly want with him. At least he'll be fed.

Hob feels special for being picked out of a crowd. That pride quickly vanishes as he learns that there are dozens, if not hundreds, of kids like him who will be getting the same education. Or apprenticeship. Or whatever. There is more food than he's ever seen in his life.

Over the years, most of the children are sent back to their families. It is uncertain what it is in particular that makes them "unworthy". One kid loses the sight in both eyes but stays. Another loses a finger - he can still do most jobs with 9 fingers! - and is sent away. The most kids are sent away for misbehaving and breaking the rules. But some - Hob among them - can get away with almost anything. Not without punishment or without making his teachers disappointed, but he never gets sent away for stealing, fighting, being rude.

What they learn is mostly etiquette, fighting, and literature. Hob is taught to read and write, and he has to sit through countless lessons about other people who could read and write. He sleeps through the lessons mostly, catching up on sleep after spending the night wandering through the restricted areas of the building or stealing sweets from the pantry.

Then one day, while he is wandering through the forbidden part of the library at the early hours of the morning, Hob runs into someone. It's a tall, black-clad man. He had seen him around 3 or 4 times. The teachers treated him with respect and he never stayed longer than a few days. He never interacted with the young, but he watched them from afar sometimes.

Hob remembers every millisecond of the encounter. The man asks him why he's in the library, and he says he likes to break rules. The man asks him what other rules he had broken, and for some reason, Hob just... confesses everything bad he's ever done. Even before he was taken in by the teachers. The man listens and his face doesn't show anything. No scandal, no disappointment, nothing. Then he suggests - only suggests - that Hob should try to be a better person. And then he's gone. He didn't walk away but just disappeared.

For a few weeks, Hob becomes the worst version of himself, just to spite that man, because there is no reason to be good. This is not a good world, so why should he be? But then he trips one girl as she is asked to come recite something in front of the class and she starts crying after she falls and she is immediately sent away, and he realises... That it would cost him zero effort to not be a bad person. That the girl would continue to have food and shelter if he didn't do anything, and he wouldn't be worse for it. There is enough for everyone.

Hob gives the being a good person thing a try. And it feels, to his surprise, good! He doesn't get any praise or pride from his teachers for the change, no reward, and the dark man doesn't show up again for many years. Only for a moment, passing by Hob, the barest smile on his face. And that is enough. In truth, Hob would continue working on himself even if he didn't get that smile. But it's a nice bonus.

It definitely takes effort, however. His instinct is to steal and cause harm, and he has to fight the urge every day. But the success tastes incredibly sweet. Better than the candy he used to steal.

When Hob is an adult by human standards, there is a sudden change. No longer is there plentiful, rich food, clean clothes, interesting books, and intensive lessons. There is illness, cold, hard work that yields only enough money to get them all by. It seems that whoever was paying the teachers to raise the kids has stopped, but they keep trying to lead them in the right direction. But many have become spoiled, and as many of the teachers succumb to illness, many of the kids - now adults - lose whatever quality was keeping them there and they are kicked out. For the better, perhaps, as outside there are jobs and opportunities. But Hob stays. The place and the people are his home and he cares.

Years later, there are only seven of them left and only three other people - teacher Lucienne and the two grounds keepers. Then one day, the money or whatever returns. Food is served and new people hired. And then, another year later, the dark-clad man returns. The seven remaining apprentices are told to line up. Hob doesn't expect to catch the man's attention another time, he thinks there is nothing special about him. The others are exceptionally smart, talented, or pretty. He is not outstanding at anything.

The man takes a close look at all of them, and it feels like being cut open and having someone look at your organs. Two others scream when that intense gaze lands on them. Hob only gasps in wonder. He swears there are stars in the man's eyes!

When he is done with the examination, the man thanks the teachers. Lucienne joins his side when he announces that he is pleased with their work and he will leave now and this place will cease to exist and it will be forgotten by the time the sun goes down tonight. Then he beckons to Hob, choosing him.

Hob follows, curious and maybe a liiiiittle scared. They don't get on horses or into a carriage. They walk right into the deep forest nearby. There, in a tree that Hob has seen countless of times, is a door that has never been there before. And the man opens it and they all walk through into a huge palace.

There, Hob is informed that he will be wed to the Prince of Stories, the King of Nightmares, Dream. He has been raised for this purpose and he did not disappoint. He worked hard. At that, Hob objects. He is actually still a slow reader and he's not good at any important thing. He carves animals out of wood, but no-one has considered it important. He doesn't sing, doesn't create poetry.

Dream tells him that Hob has worked the hardest by changing himself, humbling himself, and continuing to do so even without any reward, even when the life of being good became uncomfortable and brought him suffering. That is why Dream chose him, in the end.

Hob doesn't get a say in the matter. Before he knows it, he is married to a man that looks no older than he is but who has, apparently, been watching him grow up and had taken interest in him above great poets, singers, and other amazing people. Thankfully, Dream seems like he will be a good husband. The wedding night definitely gives Hob high hopes.

(Dream, tired of his relationships ending in ruin, decided to send his most trusted people to the world of humans to find him a perfect partner. He is not disappointed. Lucienne was right that there was something good even in the rotten apples and they can yet bloom into beautiful trees.)

Hob is given immortality and he is spiked to hell, of course. The end.

- 🚒

ONCE AGAIN LOVING IT WHEN YOU GUYS DROP A WHOLE INTRICATE FIC OUTLINE INTO MY INBOX. I'm so here for this. Weirdass fae Dream essentially grooming a child to be his future husband has just the right balance of creepiness, sexiness and moral questionableness. And Hob’s character arc is moving af??? I think in canon one of the lovable things about him is the way his life does go up and down and I love when this is reflected in au fics. Hob is definitely moulded so much by his experiences and I love the idea of Dream deliberately moulding him into the perfect husband. And Hob still at the end of the day being a normal ass guy??? That's the best part. The carving animals out of wood really got me fr.

I am soooo curious about how their married life would actually turn out. I feel like Hob has definitely been raised to have great loyalty, and that he would stick by Dream no matter what. Ultimately that's probably the main quality Dream is looking for, even if he won't admit it. Would Hob resent Dream for putting him through such a strange existence and taking him away from his parents when he was only a child? I suspect he would try not to think about all that.

Thank you so much for the brain worms, friend!! This is excellent!

[iboatedhere]

(more thanks to @pragmatic-optimist @welcometololaland & @rmd-writes)

---

Henry fiddles with the tap, turning the water temperature down from scalding hot to just piping hot while the biodegradable sponge Alex insists they buy crumbles into nothing in his hand. 

He sighs and rinses the mug before setting it on the rack to dry, turning off the water, and leaning against the sink, looking out into the expanse of their backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?” Alex asks from the table and Henry turns. 

“Do you think we should be growing our own food?” 

Wide eyed, Alex looks from the strip of bacon in hand to Henry and back again.

“I was talking about vegetables, darling.”

“Oh! Ha! Thank fuck,” he says as he shoves the last bite into his mouth. “Because you know I would get attached to that thing as soon as its little swine-eyes found mine and I could never…” He trails off and drags his finger across his throat. “You know.”

“I do,” Henry tells him. “Would it be enough to turn you into a vegetarian?”

“Hell no, but I would probably switch to turkey bacon. I’ve had enough of those feathery fucks to last the rest of my life.” He stands with his plate and coffee mug then nudges Henry out of the way so he can clean up after himself. “You want to start a garden?”

“We have all this land we're not using and who knows how long it’ll take the renovation permits on the shelter to come through. I have a bit of spare time.”

Alex eyes him warily and Henry pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“I was thinking I’d start with the basics…tomatoes, cucumber, courgettes…”

“That’s zucchini, right?”

Henry rolls his eyes fondly. “If you want to be American about it.”

“Well, since we’re in America. I think a garden would be nice. You gotta be careful though, my abuela had one and she was overrun with vegetables. She canned and pickled everything and still couldn’t keep up. She’d pay me and June ten dollars to go around to her neighbors trying to offload peppers because it was impossible to say no to two cute kids.”

“I’m sure I could find a food bank that would take them.”

“I’m sure you could,” Alex agrees before swaying into him. “Are you okay?”

Henry gives him a smile that must look as weak as it feels and Alex presses his lips together and tips his head to the side, giving Henry his best puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s just…you know,” Henry says because Alex does know and Henry doesn’t want to be the one to say it. 

The anniversary of his father’s death looms, the same way it does every year, but every year there seems to be more for Henry to mourn. 

His father never got to meet Alex. He never got to see how full of love Henry’s life is now. How happy he is. He’ll never set foot in this home or see the garden Henry wants to plant or hold the future children they might have.

Henry’s love for Alex grows with every passing day but there’s still a corner of his heart that is gray with grief that no amount of early morning kisses or late night conversations out on the porch will color.

“Baby,” Alex says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Henry’s shoulder. He can’t mourn the way Henry does, but Henry knows he tries to shoulder the weight of it even if he can’t quite fit his arms around it. “You know it’s okay to slow down and relax.”

“Plenty of people find gardening relaxing.”

Alex sighs, the same way he always does when he knows he’s been beaten at his own game and pulls back. 

“Okay,” he says, “I can duck out of work early and we can hit up the nursery–.”

“Oh no,” Henry interrupts. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my garden.”

Alex blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“You, my love, have what I believe they call a black thumb.”

“That’s a fucking lie, I do not.”

“You somehow managed to kill a cactus.”

“That thorny piece of shit had it out for me.”

“Of course, love,” Henry says, gathering Alex’s face between his hands, “whatever you say.”

[gazs-blue-hat]

Whumptober Day 2: “Nobody cares about you” (Johnny MacTavish X Reader)

Summary: Alone and afraid after a mission gone wrong, your mind begins to say some horrific things.

Word Count: 1,325

TW: Fevers, infection, Suicidal Thoughts, (LMK if I missed any)

You were supposed to only be gone for a week at most. A simple recon mission that required you to chill in a foxhole, spying on some deals that were happening in the middle of who knows where.

You couldn’t remember how long you had been gone now. Your coms were out, their batteries having died some three days ago. You had been spotted, chased through the wet pine forest, and shot. You had basic first aid with you and were able to stop the bleeding, but you didn’t have antibiotics. You couldn’t stop the spread of infection up your leg.

You had limped your way to a cave system if one could call it that. I really was a large outcropping of stone that had a smaller hide hole in the back. That’s where you had made your temporary shelter. You had your emergency blanket, and your signal flares but you refused to use either for fear of being heard or seen. The boys would find you. They had to find you.

You were fine for the Irish week of being alone, but that’s when the fever really started messing with you. Your leg burned ferociously and a sickly sweet smell oozed from your skin. You did what you could, an honorable effort even. You had cleaned the wound, even heated a knife and cauterized it, but the damage had been done. Perhaps there was still some debris you missed or perhaps the knife you had used wasn’t 100% clean. Either way, it didn’t matter.

You couldn’t walk anymore, each step laced with an agony you couldn’t quite explain. You had plenty of water, there was a small stream in the outcropping of rock you gathered water from. As for food, you had the same shitty protein bars they gave everybody before they went out on solo ops. You also had managed to hunt a deer and dry the meat enough to make jerky. You would be fine with food.

No, if anything was gonna kill you, it would be this infection. You lanced the skin as often as you could bear, letting the pus seep out and wiping it away. The lack of gangrene was a good sign at least.

The boys would come for you, Johnny would come for you.

The relationship you had with Johnny MacTavish was a sweet one. You were in different sectors of the military world. He worked in a group while you worked mostly alone on recon missions. You were never supposed to be in active combat. You were more of a spy than a soldier.

But all of them could have, should have, would have meant nothing. You were going to die out here. Alone. In the cold, wet, forest of..you didn’t remember.

Day seven of solitude, a week after you should have been back, was when the doubt began to creep in. You had managed to scavenge some barks you knew had antibiotic traits so that was helping. You were thinking your lucky stars that the fever had gone down slightly. You were still delirious, stumbling about your cave and speaking to people who weren’t there.

Angry red lines had begun to climb up your leg, the infection getting worse. A big part of you wondered if you would survive the amputation if it came to that. Another part of you wondered if it was even worth it.

You had your gun, you had your knife. You know more than one way to kill a person. It would be easy, simple even. You would slip away and be free from…

“Nobody cares about you.” A sickly voice hissed in the back of your mind. you believed it for half a second, reaching for your pistol with one bullet remaining. It wouldn’t hurt…it would be over in a second...

“No…Johnny will…Johnny will come for me. He has to. He loves me.”

“Does he?” You could almost see the figure now, dancing along your peripherals in the shadows.

“If he loved you wouldn’t he be here for you? Wouldn’t he have recused you already? It’s even long enough, they would know you are missing. They clearly aren’t coming to help you.” You choked on a sob as you curled into your little hide hole, clutching the tags around your neck. One belonged to you, the other to Johnny MacTavish.

“Leave me alone…” You whispered to the empty air. The voice chuckled and it sounded just like you.

The figure dispersed when there was a sharp crack outside your cave. You sat up, ignoring the flaring pain in your leg. You crouched low, survival instinct kicking in.

“Someone’s been here, look. There’s some meat and a canteen..” The voice was familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. The accent was thick and flowed through the air like a whisp of smoke.

“Look over here, their kit. Steamin’ Jesus their vest is shot to hell…” That voice, that voice was one you knew. Johnny was here! He had found you!

Before you could scamper out of the hole, you paused. It could be a trick, a lie. Johnny couldn’t be here…he wasn’t…

A large shadow passed over your form and you squeaked, hunkering down.

“Oi! Outta the rocks!” The gruff accent filled you with…you didn’t know. All you knew was you wanted to escape, be free from here, free from the pain and the fear coursing through you. You scrambled and scratched at the figure who was reaching towards you, arms open and palms held up. The figure managed to grab the back of your shirt and you were forcefully pulled from the crevice, screaming and howling like a beast.

“Oh God…” Your captor mumbled. You couldn’t see, it was so bright in here. The two of them had large headlamps on their helmets and they were shining light, the most light you had seen in weeks. You shouted and screamed, teeth trying to find purchase on something anything. Your captor held you tightly so your feet weren’t touching the ground and your face was pointed away from them. Holding you like a rabid animal.

You felt warm hands on your cheeks and you froze. That smell…those hands.

“Johnny?” You whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes. Your vision cleared a bit and you could see the face of your lover staring back at you. He was crying, tears streaming into his slightly overgrown stubble. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days.

“Aye, aye it’s me.” His voice cracked on the last word as you were allowed back on your own two feet where to crumpled into a sobbing heap.

“I didn’t think you were coming. I…I almost…” Your thoughts were silenced as you felt his lips press on your face, your forehead, your nose, your lips. He was covering you with his love. You knew you smelled horrible, your leg seeping disgusting fluids as the final bandage had been saturated during the scuffle.

“Let’s get you home. Home with me..” He whispered, placing his forehead against yours. His skin was cool against your feverish face and you reveled in the contact.

“I would like that. I need a shower…”

He chuckled and pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Thought I lost you…Jesus, I was horrified when we couldn’t find you. We found where you made your stand, and followed what little hints we could find. You weren’t easy to track down.” He continued whispering to you, his mouth always running before his mind could catch up.

You didn’t listen to a single word of it, just happy to be in his arms again. All of the fear you had felt, all of the pain you had gone through, it meant nothing now that you were back in his arms. You were safe, and you would never be away from him again. He was going to make sure of that.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Social Butterfly | Antisocial Moth (Keegan Russ x GN! Reader)

TW: A little bit of swearing? Total imposter syndrome for the social butterfly bits as the authors personality aligns closer to Keegan's. Creative liberties taken in backstories as there's next to nothing from the games.

Blog HQ

What do laws of physics and horoscopes have in common? Both say opposites attract.

Which may be the reason why you're sitting at lunch in the mess hall, chatting with the 3rd person that approached your table while your boyfriend sat silently beside you. In the span of 30 minutes.

"No way, of course did." You smiled, laughing at Harper's story about her middle child -- Noah who has been desperately trying to keep up with a girl he likes during gym class. Because if we run together af the same speed, then I get to talk to her more.

"He's gotten better, told me he shaved 5 seconds off his total time last week" the two of you chuckled. Your food barely touched, despite your boyfriend being almost done his. "Oh anyway, I should get going and let you eat. See you, bye Keegan!" He gave a short nod and awkward smile, as you bid your colleague goodbye.

"Oh my gosh, I love her. Her kids are so cute" you smiled over to the quiet man beside you. Like with your past 2 interactions at this lunch alone, Keegan was provided with context and background on all of them. Such as:

Parker - who recently got a new dog named Ranger. 6 month old Husky who argues with him on the daily. The dog is so cute babe, can we get one? Our dog and his dog could be best friends! Then Logan can bring Riley over for a playdate and all the dogs would be so happy. Please!

Then Finn - his girlfriend, Raven (your favourite mechanic on base who he will HAVE to meet) just got home from visiting her friends from back home. He really wants to propose but isn't quite sure if this is a good time for them. I think he should do it because they are literally soulmates.

Did he really care about any of this information? Not overly. Keegan was your opposite. Preferring a smaller, tighter knit social circle than knowing everyone on base. Even if that meant you teasing him about his social circle consisting of his team, even then he didn't know a whole lot of details about them.

"I know plenty about them" He argued one night while getting ready for bed.

"Yeah? Like what?" You challenged, leaning back on the bed, watching your boyfriend roll his eyes. He was the antisocial moth to your social butterfly.

"Uh Merrick started in the seals before he was a Ghost. Knew me since I was 18, so he's pretty much my family. Loves cats, camping and his kids" You raised an eyebrow, internally adding that his wife was the best baker you've met, and that his son played hockey for many years while his daughter played soccer.

"Ajax is the most stubborn, kindest asshole I've had the pleasure of working with. Extremely smart, one of the best mentors and friends I've had" His in-laws also own the local bar downtown and donate meals to the local homeless shelters every week. His partner plans on taking over the buisness one day to continue the good deeds.

"Uh Elias knows his stuff. I couldn't ask for a better commander. Been through hell and back but continues putting the team first, he's also the one who recruited me onto the team". He also lost his wife 8 years after his youngest was born and has been balancing his life between raising 2 sons and commanding a team. He feels bad every so often feeling like he didn't give them a proper childhood, or forcing David to grow up a little too fast to take care of his brother. Even though he loves the bond the two have formed. He is the dad friend of every social circle.

"Logan is good, young and full of potential. Doesn't say much, but knows what he wants out of life and is working his ass off toward getting it. Picks up on things extremely quick, has your back at all times, loves Riley and any other animal he comes across. A bit on the quiet side but that's not a bad thing" You laughed softly, realizing every single description Keegan has given you so far is 95% work related; so continuing in the current format. You bit your lip, in an attempt not to add that Logan was a very sweet kid, of minimal words as your boyfriend pointed out, sure. But he told you once that he hoped to make his family proud with what he was doing. Then got extremely red the day you and his brother told him just how proud everyone is of him.

"What's so funny over there, chuckles?" Keegan smiled at you, walking over to join you in the bed. Opting to lay between your thighs with his head on your stomach. Fingers automatically going to his hair, you felt him relax into your touch.

"I think it's funny that everything was work related. They do lead lives off base, like you and me" you felt him shrug silently. "You forgot about Hesh and Kick". Not bothering to move, he continued.

"Everyone in California knows Hesh's life story, and Kick is just a smartass". He had you there. "And not everyone is as open and talkative as you hun."

--

"Hey, it's been so long I've seen you. How have you been?" Another competitor entered the ring that was your shared table.

"It's been tiring, honestly. Coming back to work from extended leave has killed our motivation" hand finding Keegan's under the table, you were immediately engulfed in conversation with another face he didn't recognize. Lunch forgotten as your interest in the subject grew.

It was when Hesh Walker (the only person on base who held a candle to your social attitude) joined that Keegan decided he was done with lunch. Squeezing your hand 3 times under the table (a silent "I love you") he got up.

"See you guys" he responded to the 3 voices bidding him goodbye, as he went to drop his tray off before leaving.

"Tell me, how is it that the quietest soldier ended up dating the one of the loudest ones?" He heard Kick ask from behind him, walking alongside Elias and Merrick. "Your person could talk to a brick wall and become best friends with it in under 5 minutes". Keegan shrugged, falling in step with the group.

"They bring out the best side of our dear old Keegan though" Merrick clapped him on the shoulder with a mischievous grin. He found it rather comical watching you and Keegan out in a social atmosphere.

You working the room, chatting with anyone and everyone. Remembering random details about most people you've talked to. Him quietly watching you from across the room, or by your side nodding along to conversation. Things none of the senior team would've expected from their sniper 3 years ago, before he met you.

"Yeah. They're pretty great" Keegan smiled, allowing himself to fade into the background and listen to the conversation in front of him turn to whatever sports game the guys watched last night.

Your personalities may be day and night from one another, but he wouldn't give it up for th-

"Keeg! We aren't done talking about the dog we're going to adopt" he heard you yell from somewhere behind him. Causing him to freeze in place as the men in front of him began laughing. Feeling his face burn, knowing all passing eyes were now on either him or his ball of energy jogging up behind him.

But what can he say, opposites clearly attract.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @ai-luni

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'd love to hear something you're thinking about from Shadowstruck!

I've been thinking that the way forward in Shadowstruck is to focus on heartlight, not as a magical phenomenon, but as a medical one. Heartlight gives a person a lot more advantages that make their life easier--it's a source of light, allows you to control your temperature, protects you from the elements, maybe boosts your immune system and stamina, etc. So a shade's lack of heartlight would be bad, not so much because it allows people to control them, but because, from the point of view of this world, it leaves them with significant disabilities. A person could use their own heartlight to support or protect a shade, but only in rare cases that would strain their own health, so it's pretty much never done. I think this angle could better parallel our own world's issues and make it a more direct commentary on society, instead of just another fantasy dystopia.

The prejudice against shades would have a lot of different facets. There's the fact that they're disabled and look different and people find that creepy. There's the religious factor--certain groups that have misinterpreted scriptures to decide that shades don't have souls. The practice of enslaving them could be a twisted form of public service--we can't expect them to care for themselves, so the people with enough money to house them should give them food and shelter, and if they put them to work, it's only fair--that devolved into straight-up human trafficking.

I should note that not every society in this world considers shades non-people. There are plenty of nations where shades have the same rights as everyone else--but from the point-of-view of the society this story takes place in, the fact that they let shades walk among them as equals just proves how barbaric they are.

I've been thinking about these things because I came up with a new story in this world centered around a character who is suddenly thrust into the position of having to deal with these issues. Shadowstruck never really had a plot, because I couldn't figure out how the main character fits into the political scheme, but this MC's existence is a political crisis, and the story comes from how she has to navigate the danger she finds herself in. It is really, really hard not to just post the entire outline of the story because I'm so excited about it and want to talk about all the nuances. But since I love the reveals at the beginning, I'm afraid that spilling it all now would destroy the impact of the actual story, so I think I'll stay quiet for now. But I'm really hoping I'll be able to turn these ideas into a proper story soon.

[specsthespectraldragon]

How To Protect Your Koi From Predators While Still Looking Aesthetically Pleasing

requested by @gallusrostromegalus

Firstly, a quick point about netting before I start. Netting is a bad idea. Several predators (raccoons, herons, and otters) will simply pull it up and get in anyways, and depending on the mesh size you're likely to injure and kill juvenile koi, frogs, and other animals that you do want in and around your ponds. Also, leaves caught in it in the fall can impede water flow and create stagnant areas, damaging plants, preventing oxygen circulation, and providing breeding grounds for mosquitoes. Finally, you're very likely to have to cut out injured or killed predators from it; the last thing you want is to have to remove a very angry, half-decapitated cottonmouth from your pond. Netting is a bad idea, don't do it.

With that said, let's dive in!

Aerial predators (seagulls, kingfisher, osprey, herons, idiot teenage bald eagles, etc.)

The best defense against aerial predators is making sure they can't see the pond in the first place.

Evergreen trees that can be trained to spread branches out over the pond, and aren't prone to fighting each other for space or breaking into the plumbing with their root systems, are good choices for year-round pond protection. Just make sure you know how big the root system is going to become and prepare accordingly- just because california redwoods can work for this purpose does not mean you will necessarily have a pond in 20 years if you use them!

This does mean that you're going to get needles, twigs, cones, and the occasional branch in your pond. With biofalls and a good filtration system, these shouldn't be too much of a problem as long as you're taking the time daily to clean things out (excepting mature redwood, but that's really just another reason not to use that species). You'll want to pick species that don't produce fruit or cones that the koi want to eat, because they will, even in winter when they can't digest food properly. Uncontrolled fruit bacchanals in spring and summer aren't necessarily harmful on their own, but will lead to massive spikes in ammonia and other waste products, which will in turn make your filter sad and give you a massive headache.

2. Land predators (cats, raccoons, foxes, also herons because it's complicated, etc.)

You're not going to be able to hide your pond in any meaningful way from these guys, so the goal is to make the koi as inaccessible to them as possible. A planted ledge before a sheer "drop" into the rest of the pond provides a lovely viewing point while keeping predators from having an area to hunt from. Ponds should be about three to four feet deep; as a rule of thumb, you want to be six or more inches below the frost line, or three feet, whichever is deeper. If you've got great blue herons, you want to be four feet deep at least, because they're lanky bastards.

Speaking of plantings, lily pads, irises, and cattails make beautiful additions to a pond while giving the koi hiding places. Planting cabomba on mesh shelters hides the appearance of the mesh, gives the koi a tasty treat, and provides shelter all in one go. And of course, smaller bamboo tubes or a nice plastic skull give the fry hiding places as well. You can also try duckweed, but many people don't find the appearance attractive, and koi are very good at de-establishing duckweed by eating all of it.

Otters, while land predators, are an exception here because the little bastards can dive and have hands. If you are getting otters in your pond, your problem is far larger than anything landscaping can help you with.

3. Aquatic predators (snapping turtles, water snakes, alligators, etc.)

Offer your koi plenty of hiding places. Otherwise? If you see one of these guys in your pond, you are just going to have to remove them. Put them in your car, drive them to a body of water you deem far enough away, and release them. That's all you can do.

This brings us back to the above point about netting; snakes will wriggle under or through the netting or kill themselves trying, and snapping turtles will just bull right through it. I don't know if netting helps against alligators, but I would not want to take that bet.

Bullfrogs are often considered aquatic predators. They will indeed eat juvenile koi. However, they're no more likely to than the adult koi, and the koi will eat juvenile bullfrogs, so my personal consideration is that it evens out. If you're breeding koi, your calculations are going to be different, but you should have a separate pond or indoor tank for raising the fry anyways.

(bullfrogs will also stop eating the juvenile koi if given regular meals of koi food, but I'm not sure this is healthy for them. I also haven't figured out how to prevent jeremiah from eating the koi food, so it's probably a moot point.)

[permian-tropos]

the question about who would do “shit jobs” in the communally organized society is actually interesting if you want to be creative because yeah what WOULD it take to make mining a job you want to do? how could human beings collectively apply their ingenuity to make a mining job a really appealing one that people would not shirk away from? could you give them fair hours so they have plenty of free time, assurances of safety, good technology, and an emotionally and aesthetically fulfilling community life? could you give them beauty and luxury as a reward for doing the hard work, instead of our society where people earn access to those things by being exploiters, not workers? is the mining commune the coolest hippest most happening place? does it have a sick music scene? do they play a lot of.... rock music. or... metal...? lol  

my point is that there is a kind of nihilistic misanthropy to the idea that some jobs have to entail suffering, and that it’s naive to try to restructure society to make it preferable to do essential work. I don’t actually think miners or sewage workers should suffer. I think anyone who does difficult work that raises the standard of living of everyone collectively should be very happy 

the current solution is: “some people do the shit work because we withhold access to food and shelter and medicine etc from them unless they earn sufficient wages and we accomplish this by having a minority of people use constant ongoing violence to assert ownership of land, raw materials and means of production aka tools.” and arguably the constant exploitation and need to extract so much surplus value to keep an unreasonable status quo is the reason those jobs are shit! maybe we wouldn’t have to mine so much ore if it wasn’t going to a) weapons to help oppress people b) machinery for sweatshops that make shein clothes and fucking funko pops and c) waste because of planned obsolescence instead of repairable technology

and that solution is not working, the planet is on fire now

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

2023 Year in Review

1. 28,490 notes - Jun 16 2023

You know, it’s kinda funny how much of high fantasy centers around kings and nobility and courtly intrigue considering that the archetypal high fantasy, Lord of the Rings, had the rather explicit moral of “saving the world is up to this backwater hick and his gardener because no politician, least of all inherited nobility, would have the ability to see past their own ambition and throw away a weapon”. Oh sure, Aragorn is a great king and all, but there’s a reason he’s over there running a distraction ring while the hobbits do the real work. Sauron loses because he gets distracted by kings and armies and great battles (i.e. typical high fantasy stuff) letting Frodo and Sam sneak through his back door and blow it all to hell.  

Just saying, maybe old Jirt knew what he was saying when he said that the small folk doing their best and holding to each other was more powerful than a dozen alliances and superweapons and we should respect him for it.

2. 22,425 notes - Jul 6 2023

“LOL. You think your vote matters? ROFL and LOL.” Yes, I am aware my vote carries less and less relative power the more people I’m voting with, but unlike your glorious violent revolution, it actually exists.

3. 20,183 notes - Mar 7 2023

The 4 approaches to “orphaned etymology” problems in fiction

1. Obviously we can’t call it French toast if there’s no France so we’re just gonna replace it with something else.

2. The word abattoir sounds too French so it wouldn’t make sense for it to be here without a France. Even though we use English without there being an England.

3. This is called a Ming vase because when you tap it it makes a “Ming!” sound.

4. I am JRR Tolkien and every single word I write has a fictional etymology attached to it that I am translating into English for your convenience.

4. 17,918 notes - Dec 26 2023

As to whether the Gavle Goat’s consumption should be seen as a good omen or a bad omen, I’d say good. Traditionally the Yule goat is made of straw from the final harvest and as a talisman against hard times, and there are unproven theories that its shape is inspired by Thor’s goats, who are constantly killed, eaten, and reborn to provide endless meat for Thor and whatever guests he entertains.  Therefore, its use by birds as a food store and safe harbor is an affirmation of its original purpose and truly in the Christmas spirit of generosity in lean times. What’s more, the birds eating it seems to be have been the one outcome to unite both goat burners and goat keepers, as they have decided not to scare the birds away from their safe harbor and not to harm the goat, a decision that has been universally lauded. 

As omens go, this one’s all positive: safety, plenty, and unity between previous ideological opponents through a creative third solution built on shared values (birds being fed and sheltered is a good thing). May more birds find their way to the Gavle Goat next year. 

5. 11,031 notes - Apr 24 2023

Okay hearing that people actually do this has made me morbidly curious so... My house was split into Parents and Kids bathrooms...

6. 9,188 notes - Mar 16 2023

The best decision The Mandalorian ever made was centering their show around an archetypal masked, taciturn gunslinger who wanders from town to town never putting down roots, and then revealing that he acts that way because he’s a massively awkward introvert who uses that archetype to avoid having to socialize with people beyond the three interaction scripts he already knows.  10/10, top tier characterization, I love seeing this man outshoot a bar full of people and then get scammed by a random mechanic because he’s too polite to confront her about it. Truly a hero of our times.

7. 5,183 notes - Mar 21 2023

Okay but for a corporately mandated love triangle (Gale was meant to be Katniss’ cousin, publisher asked to make him the childhood friend with a crush), Hunger Games absolutely nails it. It can’t just be solved by polyamory because it represents her choosing between two aspects of herself. Yes Gale sometimes acts like a dumb teenager because he is, but not to an obnoxious level. The one and only time Peeta and Gale get a conversation about it, both of them fully acknowledge that it’s Katniss’ choice so fighting over her is pointless. It’s not a marketing gimmick to generate unnecessary tension, it’s a complicated relationship that informs all three of their characters and is deeply intertwined with the series’ themes of war and trauma.

8. 4,122 notes - Jul 1 2023

I mean I’m not even trans and I can still tell Nimona the movie is basically ND Stevenson going back and saying “okay, let’s do it on purpose this time”.

9. 3,850 notes - Jan 4 2023

What I really like about the dinner mystery is that they could have made it super easy or had Blanc go on about how obvious it is since he needed to solve it quickly, but instead he’s thrilled by it. He points out every subtle clue, all the foreshadowing, the style of it, and he even tells Miles that it was satisfying and the perfect bite-sized mystery. “A dramatic, passionate, and colorful crime for a fashionista!”. He might have solved it easily, because this is his job, but he can still appreciate the artistry in it and enjoy solving it.

It provides a nice counterpoint to the later reveal, where he is genuinely disappointed by how dumb the murders where but still prioritizes the victims. He might love solving the mysteries, but he knows what’s really important. So what could be better than a mystery with no victims?

10. 3,467 notes - Apr 6 2023

Honestly when you hear that someone once held bigoted views in the past but no longer does that shouldn’t be a disappointment, but a victory. Yes! We got ‘em! One less person on the wrong side of history and one more for us! This is exactly what we want, for people to leave their prejudices behind, and we succeeded!

Created by TumblrTop10

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart - Chapter 20

In the aftermath of the breakup, life in the Undercity gets even harder...

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act I | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | TW: Drowning | WC: 3.53k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @quirkykaty @crunchlite

───────────────── ���◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

The first week is fine.

There’s plenty of work to keep you occupied. Cleaning, scrubbing, teaching, cooking, laundry, grocery runs, administering first aid, nursing sick children back to health, prepping new beds, stocking up on supplies and preserved foods, asking the local homeless to please stop by the orphanage for a safe place to wait out the oncoming rainstorm…

It’s all hands on deck at Janna’s Hearth. Most of your nights are spent there now. Staying at your Promenade apartment would mean more wasted time traveling to and from the Undercity. 

Besides, it’s less lonely at the orphanage.

And the children need you to be brave and strong. 

You barely have the time or energy to paint. It’s a good thing you haven’t taken on any new commissions. 

Not that you’ve found the inspiration to paint anything in particular. Except filling whole canvases with teal, turquoise, aquamarine… looking for a specific color, either blue or green or a combination of both… 

It would be nice to see his eyes again. Just as a reference.

He’s never coming to see you again. And you’re not going to go looking for him. That’s a promise. But you just want to figure out the exact color of his irises. Just out of an artistic curiosity, of course. 

After that, you’ll never think of him again. 

Never ever. 

But the gods seem to have other plans in mind.

Trash duty at Janna’s Hearth is one of the harder tasks at the orphanage. All the little wastebaskets in every single room really add up. The kitchen always produces the most waste: eggshells, fruit peels, animal bones, cans, the occasional broken dishware, and more… it’s compounded by all the new people you need to feed. But it’s work worth doing. Everyone who comes for shelter gets a warm, hearty meal. Even seconds if they want it. 

You don’t normally mind having to make multiple trips to the dumpster. 

Up until Silco arrives. Walking slowly towards you while you’re lugging trash bags through the kitchen’s backdoor into the alleyway.  

He looks the same as ever. Tall, slender, unruffled, dropping a cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with his boot. An elegant hand resting on the handle of a closed umbrella that he holds by his side like a cane. 

It doesn’t seem fair. Has he spent any nights crying himself to sleep the same way you have? If he has, it doesn’t show on his face. 

He should shove himself in the dumpster, right next to the trash bags you’re about to toss in. 

No, he should hug and kiss you. Reaffirm his devotion to you and commit to staying by your side. 

No, he should go away without saying a single word. 

He doesn’t do any of those things. Just calls out your name hesitantly. 

You don’t hit him or scream at him or cry or tell him to go to hell. Even when the anger and hurt flare up again, an inferno in your chest and face and ears. 

There’s still more trash bags to take out, after all. 

Ignoring him proves to be pretty easy. Pick up two trash bags, maybe one if you need both hands, then throw them into the dumpster. Some of them are too heavy, so you just lean those against the wall. You’ll need to ask Kharon to take care of them later. 

Grab, lift, throw. Grab, lift, throw. Grab, lift, throw…

Silco doesn’t try to get your attention again. But he takes the bags you can’t carry and easily tosses them in. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you tell him flatly. Acknowledging him for the first time. 

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly. “Do you have some time?” 

“No.” 

“Please?”

“No.” 

He seems to get the point now. Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, before continuing, “Well, this is yours. I meant to return it sooner… I rather hope later is better than never.”

The umbrella. The same one you left at The Last Drop. It’s being held out to you now, handle first. 

“Keep it. It’s going to rain tonight,” you say.�� 

“I’m alright.”

“Keep it.” 

“I appreciate your generosity, but—”

“It’s just a stupid umbrella. Keep it.”

He continues standing there. Withdrawing his hand to hold it awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what else to do with it. 

“Do you need my assistance with anything? I heard that the orphanage is opening its doors to provide shelter. Perhaps I could offer a helping hand,” he says formally. 

“We’re fine,” the words slip out of you automatically. Although that’s true, another volunteer would still be a big help. But why did it have to be him, of all people? “You should get going.”

Before you close the door behind you, you stare at him. Making eye contact and hoping that your expression is neutral. “I’m sure you have more important things to do that I’m distracting you from.” 

The heavy door swings shut, and you make sure to throw the lock as loudly as you can. It slides home with a satisfying clunk. 

But whatever small prick of vindication you might have felt is almost immediately overwhelmed by grief and hurt. All this just because you saw your ex. 

Gods, you weren’t even together that long. Less than a year. You need to pull yourself together. 

You’re fine. 

You’re fine without him. 

You’re going to be fine. 

Luckily, you manage to make it to the shower before you start crying.

________________________________________

The next week is less fine. 

The rains are worse than anticipated. You should have known better than to rely on Piltie forecasts. They always downplay the rainy season because they have the money and infrastructure to endure it. Probably the worst thing that happens to Topsiders is the cancellation of vacation or travel plans. 

In the Undercity, a bout of bad weather can be a matter of life or death. 

You and everyone else at Janna’s Hearth are determined to protect as many people as you can. But the storm isn’t the only thing you need to worry about.

Loud screaming and banging echoes loudly in the hallways when you emerge from the laundry room. 

Are the kids safe?? You sprint towards the source. Seems like it’s coming from the entrance hall. Whoever’s making that noise, they’re liable to wake up the children during their afternoon nap. 

It’s quite the bizarre sight waiting for you: Nyle is pinned to the ground by Kharon, one arm twisted behind her back. Yelling and still writhing, trying valiantly to break free. The much larger and stronger Vastayan has one knee on the woman’s back, growling and baring her teeth. Teema and Cuny are busy shooing away curious onlookers. 

“What’s going on??” you ask. 

“Leksy—” Nyle manages to get out, then gasps for air. 

You look at Kharon and nod at her. She slowly lifts her leg, making sure to maintain a grip on Nyle’s shoulder. Seemingly preventing the woman from escaping.

But Nyle’s in no shape to go anywhere. She bursts into hysterical sobs, grabbing you and soaking your front with her tears. Your arms wrap instinctively around her, trying to provide comfort. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Leksy,” Nyle sobs. “The flooding— it started— I have to go—”

Shit. Their house is in the middle of the danger zone. Nobody was prepared for the flooding to start early; it’s part of the reason why the orphanage is so busy today. Nyle must have stopped by here on her way home from visiting Topside. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you soothe her. “Just take some deep breaths, then we’ll go—” 

“Absolutely not,” Cuny cuts in, the older woman towering over the two of you. Stern and sharp set of her jaw leaving no room for debate. “The Children of Zaun are already in the Lanes evacuating everyone. There’s no need to put yourself in harm’s way.” 

Teema calls out for help, and Cuny departs to see what’s going on. Kharon gives a sympathetic look before leaving too. You start patting Nyle on the back. 

If the Children are trying to evacuate everyone… that’s too many people for them to keep track of. They might not prioritize Leksy’s rescue. And there’s no telling how long they’ll take... 

If you and Silco were still together (why are you thinking about him) he would have gone out for her if you asked. 

But Silco’s not in your life anymore (stop thinking about him dammit). Time to take care of things yourself. 

You squeeze Nyle’s hand. It’s just you and her in the hallway. No one else is around to tell you to stay.

It’s now or never. 

She hiccups and sniffles, trying to catch her breath. You help her take off her coat, her eyes widening when she sees you pulling it on. There’s no time to run back to your room to grab yours. 

Hopefully Nyle will forgive you for not staying with her until she calms down. For now, you give her a quick hug. 

“Go get something to eat,” you tell her. “I’ll be back.” 

“I’m—” she says, her voice hitching. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Nyle,” you murmur to her. “You need to stay here… when Leksy comes back, she needs to see that you’re safe.” 

The significant look you give her seems to be enough to reassure her. As you slowly close the front door behind you, you look over your shoulder at her. 

The hopeful expression on her face is the last thing you see before heading out. 

________________________________________

The waters are already two inches deep, soaking your feet immediately to the skin as soon as you slosh through them. There’s no way to hurry without splashing everywhere, and the heavy rain is soaking you through anyways. You pull the hood lower to keep your face as dry as possible. Pushing through as best as you can. The cold has you going numb at first, before the chemicals start making your skin itchy, then irritated. Clenching your hands into fists helps fight the temptation to scratch. 

Your descent into the Undercity means practically diving into the depths, where the rain falls down the slopes and cliffs to collect in the fissures. Then there’s nowhere for the water to go. Flood levels steadily climbing higher and higher. Most people are heading in the opposite direction as you, up and out of the Undercity to find refuge. Clambering up buildings, pipes, ladders, or jamming into whichever elevators or bathyspheres that are still functional. Some even using tables or driftwood to paddle or float their way through the streets. 

By the time you arrive at Leksy and Nyle’s house, the water is ankle deep. Banging on the front door hurts your now red and splotchy hands. 

“Leksy!!” you yell. 

No response. You yell again, in case she can’t hear you over the rain. 

Relief washes over you when she calls out your name. You pull at the door with all your strength, straining against the water. 

Despite everything, you can’t help but almost laugh when the door finally opens. Leksy is terrified, sitting on someone’s— Sevika??—  shoulders. The child’s skinny legs almost wrapping themselves in knots around the woman’s neck. Your friend is sitting at the kitchen table, a grim look on her face as she attempts futilely to light a cigarette.

“Hey,” Sevika greets you casually. As if she were expecting you. 

“What are you doing here??”

“I was babysitting,” she says, then snorts humorlessly. “Hell of a day for it.” 

“We have to go!”

“Take the kid,” she shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

That’s when you finally notice her foot is in a splint, resting on a nearby stool. Sheesh, she really doesn’t know when to take it easy. 

Uh-oh… In her breakdown, Nyle must have forgotten to mention Sevika’s presence in her home. You can’t blame her, but rescuing two people instead of one will make things more complicated…

Still, you’re running out of time. You cross over the room, forging your way through the water. Looking Leksy in the eyes. 

“Leksy… I need you to be brave for me and your mom. She’s waiting for you,” you say in your calmest, steadiest voice. “Can you do that for us? We’re going to get you out of here.” 

Her trembling doesn’t stop, but she takes your hand when you reach out for her. The pace with which she uncoils herself around Sevika is agonizingly slow, but soon enough she’s dismounted and on the ground, holding onto your leg. 

“Come on,” you tell Sevika. Letting out a chuckle this time when you help her get up. 

“What’s so funny?” she asks, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re bad with kids, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes. 

It’s slow going, making your way back out to the Lanes. The water levels are even higher now, past your knees. Leksy clings to Sevika’s free arm. The woman is strong enough to lift the child above the water, but their combined weight has you stumbling to support them. Straining your back and burdening you to excessive clumsiness. 

It doesn’t help that there’s more debris than ever flooding the streets. Bobbing up and down in the water, crashing and ricocheting off walls and buildings. Sending waves that splash high over your head. Making your journey upwards infinitely more dangerous, especially for Leksy.

“We'll have to climb,” you shout at your companions. Jerking your head in the direction of a nearby building. A rickety, rusting fire escape barely visible in between the sheets of rain. Sevika grits her teeth, but doesn’t say anything.

The ladder is just out of reach. After helping Sevika settle on a nearby barrel, you crouch to let Leksy scurry up your back. Her tiny shoes dig uncomfortably into your shoulders as she stands on them, stretching as high as she can. She swipes once, missing the ladder by inches. And again, and again.

Her fourth attempt finally lands, her little fingers curling around the bar. You call out support to her as she pulls herself up the ladder, one painstaking step at a time. 

“Great!” you yell when Leksy scrambles onto the landing. “Can you get the ladder?” 

The little girl pushes downwards on it with all her might. It’s stuck. Her strained grunts are barely audible over the thundering rain. Then she screams angrily and kicks the unyielding metal. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Do you remember the way to Janna’s Hearth?” 

Leksy nods. Tears streaming down her soaked face. 

“Your mom’s waiting for you— just keep going!” you shout and give her an encouraging smile. 

“But—”

“It’s okay! We’ll see you there,” you shout insistently at her.

She bites her lip, then starts climbing. You wait until she disappears over the roof before turning back to Sevika. Shielding her eyes from the rain with one arm. 

“Come on!” you shout to her. 

“Are we going somewhere?”

You point up at the neighboring building. Sevika looks up, squinting at some scaffolding attached to the upper floors. She pushes herself up, throwing her arm over your shoulders again. You grit your teeth to stop yourself from groaning out loud, the strain of carrying her pulling the fibers of your muscles apart painfully. 

The two of you bust down the door to the building before making your way up the stairs. It’s an arduous climb, fueled less by your diminishing strength and mostly by your unyielding stubbornness. 

On the highest floor, you find a window that opens to the balustrade. The strength of the rain has battered the wooden boards to rotting and falling apart. Luckily, the makeshift bridge of planks and steelwork that you first spotted is still intact. You’ll have to cross it to follow the path that Leksy took to the orphanage. 

As you and Sevika clamber onto the platform, a roaring rush of water thunders through the alleyway. A flash flood submerging the ground where you and Sevika were just standing moments ago. Flotsam and furniture slamming into the walls, breaking into pieces. Waves and dirty brown foam splashing onto your boots. Shaking and shuddering the whole building. 

The waves still just as suddenly as they came. The water’s surface is punctured by rain still falling, forceful and fast. 

It’s intimidating seeing the flooding this much closer and higher. Murky and depthless. 

You let Sevika rest for a moment. She sits and stretches her legs out, leaning against the wall of the building. Hissing in pain. When you grab her hand and squeeze it, she doesn’t try to shove you away. It’s a mark of how far your friendship has come, or how dire the situation is that she allows you to comfort her.  

“You first,” you shout, standing up and holding out your other hand for her. The bridge isn’t wide enough for both of you to cross at the same time.

She shakes her head. “Go ahead.”

“No way, I have to stick around in case you fall.”

A skeptical eyebrow is raised at you. “You know how to swim?”

“Yeah! And you probably can’t with that leg…” 

Sevika doesn’t disagree with you. Whatever expression she has on her face is too hard to make out in the heavy rain. But when she finally lets you pull her to her feet, she squeezes with unnecessary force. You don’t remark on it, but cover up a laugh with a fake cough. 

You watch with bated breath as she limps across the bridge…

Dragging her injured foot behind her…

Holding back a gasp when one of the pipes dislodges and falls into the water below with a splash…

Your fingernails digging deep into your palms as her gait becomes more and more unsteady... 

Finally, she’s safe. Allowing herself to collapse onto the roof of the other building. Now staring across the gap at you, gesturing for you to come. 

The shakiness in your grip on the metal piping isn’t just because they’re slippery from the rain. It’s because you lied to Sevika.

You don’t know how to swim. 

The water looks deep enough to swallow you whole. 

But you have to go.

You have promises to keep. 

The first, testing step on the bridge seems safe enough. It holds your weight, as long as you walk carefully. 

Step…

Step, step…

One foot in front of the other…

A wooden board sinks as your foot lands on it.

Before you can move again, it bends. 

Then snaps in half.

Your leg plunges through the hole. 

The metal piping slips out of your grip. 

Before you can pull yourself up, boards all around you splinter. A spiderweb of cracks breaking into pieces. Finally succumbing to the rain. 

You’re falling—

Falling through the air— 

Fear has your heart leaping into your throat— 

Gravity and the ground— constants you’ve been able to take for granted your whole life— disappear— 

SPLASH!!!!

You hit the water feet first. Then the taste of dirt and metal and rust and sand and some acidic chemical flavor fill your mouth. Bitter and gross and wet. As you breach the surface, you spit out great spurts. Flailing and trying to shake the water out of your eyes. Drenched hair pressing on your eyelids, dark strands obscuring your vision.

Sevika yells out your name. Her form leaning over to look down at you is so small, so far away. 

At least your head is above the surface. Some last reserve of strength enables you to keep treading water.

Silco’s feet kick out as he spreads his arms to keep himself floating—

(Advice on how to survive, buried in a bittersweet memory. Courtesy of your subconscious.) 

You keep paddling. It’s too dark to see where to go. Maybe you can hang on like this until—

Sevika shouts again— something you can’t hear—

You look up—

CLANG!!!!

The metal piping from the scaffolding hits you square on the forehead. Blunt pain. A throbbing rectangle of it on your face. Radiating out to your entire skull and brain.

It hurts it hurts it hurts

Your eyes cross. The world blurs. Which way is up? The water is coming up—

Holding you.

You’re sinking.

Don’t breathe—

You breathe.

Water in your nose, your mouth

Your lungs

Bubbles 

Pain

Burning in your throat

Your chest

Your lungs

Your body

Rough edges scraping at your insides 

Your nerves are on fire

Cough it out

It won’t come out

More comes in

Flooding

Get to the surface… Get to the surface…

GET TO THE SURFACE!!!!

GET AIR GET AIR GET AIR

Your arms thrash

You keep sinking

It’s useless

It’s okay. Leksy is safe. And so is Sevika.

They can go home.

It’s dark in the water

But it’s peaceful

“It holds you—”

It’s already in you

“Every problem in the world will fade away”

Your hand floats in front of you

It’s getting darker

Your eyes close

It’s dark

Quiet 

Still hurts

Where?

Your heart 

“Do you have some time?”

Silco

What did he want?

Who knows

You should have asked him 

Too late now

Too bad

Oh well

It’s okay… 

Chapter 21

[digitalagepulao]

Monkey Technology at Huaguoshan

So, I've been musing on just how much the monkeys would be capable of achieving when it comes to technology. We know that Wukong taught them a whole lot, but what could they do before their naturally born sage brought all his learning? This is mostly me rambling about stuff that comes off my head and from my own experiences and learning.

Tool use and crafting

We are well-aware of tool usage among the great apes/homonids (aka humans, chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans and bonobos, as well as extinct hominins like neanderthals and homo habilis), and for convenience's sake I'll give the fantasy monkeys the same skills. Wukong is credited as teaching them how to sharpen wood and bamboo for knives and spears, so crafting tools might have been out of their wheelhouse. So we have to work with basic, naturally occuring tools, like sharp stones and sticks as they are found. To further this point, that should include mortal and pestle tools, as all you need is a concave rock and another stone or even wood to grind things with.

Fire

This one is a bit dicey. Wukong isn't given explicit credit for teaching firecraft, but the novel does make mention of them burning incense and offerings. We can always handwave these deets as stuff monkeys learned by watching humans as animals often seem to do in the novel, but they aren't quite told to make use of it until Wukong returns and makes a proper kingdom out of Water-Curtain cave. So on this one, I'll just say it's something that they've known how to do for a while, but had very little reason to put that particular skill to work until Wukong came along.

Claywork

Since we established they know how to craft fire, next comes what to do with that fire! And first things that come to mind is cooking and claywork. Again, they only seem to cook food after Wukong's leadership, so on to clay. Clay is quite easy to mold and then burn, but it would take seeeeveral attempts to get the heat management right and learn what makes pottery crack in the kiln. As for glazes, they can be a happy coincidence! Depending on the process and time during firing, when the oven is opened, one can find the inside walls with a luster of ash that melted into glaze, and it's pretty neat! Natural glazes can be made by processing wood ash, which again takes some time to learn on their own but not impossible.

Textiles

The monkeys are described as being able to weave grass mattresses, and then later Wukong teaches them to make flax, which is a way more involved process in itself. Now we're on more dicey ground, as textiles take quite a bit of refined precision grips that most tree-dwelling primates aren't capable of anatomically. I'll probably go off about monkey anatomy at some other time, so we'll handwave that one to fantasy rules too.

Winemaking

We got plenty of mentions of coconut wine and other drinks at Huaguoshan's feasts and celebrations, but how did the monkeys get to wine? Animals in nature have been noted to indulge in recreational drugs, including fermented fruits, simply for the joy of it. A notable example is cedar waxwings indulging in fermented berries and needing to be picked out of walkways by kind humans so nobody trips on them. And most notable of all, humanity has had a long history with fermented foods and drinks. Coconut wine takes a bit of processing to be well, wine. This could have been learned over time but again, the monkeys never had much need to perfect this knowledge or put it to much use until Wukong's reign. Making wine is kind of hard when you don't have proper shelter to regulate temperatures, and his discovery of Water-Curtain cave is notable for sparing the monkeys the whims of weather and seasons. So we have shelter, but what about vessels? Water-Curtain cave is said to have all the necessities of life within, including stone dishware, so it's safe to say they had access to stone vases and pots, plus we've discussed claywork, so monkey-made glazed pottery is also a possibility. And we also covered fire, so the process of heating and cooling mashes for fermenting is also checked off the list.

Incense making

The monkeys are described to practice religion to some extent, offering prayers and burning sacrificial livestock to the gods, so one would imagine they'd stretch that worship to burning incense. Incense can be as easy as scraping off aromatics over simmering coals, which is absolutely within their scope to do, but things like incense sticks might take some learning. Getting the dust fine enough to be kneaded and then rolled or extruded is quite a labor without more complex tools than a mortar and pestle, but that's work they might be able to invest in during Wukong's reign at Water-Curtain cave.

Medicine

Now this one is a wee bit tricky. If we're keeping simply to usage of medicinal herbs, then we have multiple cases of great apes using foraged ingredients to heal themselves and even teaching the right way to consume them to their young. If we stretch this to say, poultices and infusions, that feels like a reasonable leap to make given all the other things they seem capable of thanks to basic tool use. For more say, complex things like major injuries and sickness might be touch and go. Usage of tools like splints, sutures and cauterizing are more on the lane of homonini (aka humans and our closest extinct relatives) and I think this is something they'd need to learn from humans how to go about it. If Wukong also brings with him knowledge of traditional healing ie. acupuncture, Tui na, and more complex medicine mixtures, then the monkeys' lifespan is gonna get much longer. And since he goes out of his way to protect his kin from King Yama's rule and shares immortal wine and peaches freely with them, that's definitely something he would do.

Art

Talk about a large category, eh? Art can be any number of things, but I wanna focus on their technical capabilities and their sense of aesthetic appeal. Art has been a homonin trait for a long long time, with recent studies suggesting all the way back to Homo naledi, who lived during the middle Pleistocene. Anything from dragged fingers across mud and clay, slashes on rock, and of course the well-known cave paintings, can be easily assigned to them as they had basic tools available. The monkeys are also described as capable of dancing and playing music during Wukong's reign, so it's unknown if these are skills they already have or were taught over time by him, or if it's something that they just had the time to devote to at that time. I'm going to take that as a little of column A and column B. As for aesthetic appeal, we know great apes as well as other animals do have a sense of what is "beautiful", as well as have their individual preferences. What exactly monkeys will find appealing is definitely up for debate, but while they might take cues from humans through observation, they're capable of their own experimentation at their own time and leisure. Accessories, face and body painting, carvings, and drawings would be fairly common sights among the monkeys, and likely very prized possessions and gifts.

[aronarchy]

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

.

[rust-bearer]

Thank Primus the clinic had a backup generator. First Aid counted himself lucky for finding it in the storage room, and quickly moved it into position for later. No fuel inside it, but that was alright. Plenty he could scavenge for when he’d need to turn it on. Not yet, at least.

How long until power ran out? He didn’t know. It was still online for a little bit, but that would change soon. Two days… maybe, max. Probably less. He shouldn’t- he really shouldn’t shelter in this clinic, of all places, but it was surrounded by big stone walls and only had two entrances. Entrances that he’d already blocked off earlier, sealing the gates and pushing abandoned cars in front of them, and then piling barricades behind. It would have been easier to defend the clinic with more people. Faster. But he’d…

First Aid’s eyes flickered to the outside again. Through the window. And he could see the throngs of zombies filtering through the streets. Could still see people, rarely, run out into the street screaming. Sometimes being chased by other humans too. Sometimes right before being shot. The tires tracks of the army convoy were still visible, and the same was said about the bodies they left behind. Some still human.

No. First Aid didn’t need anyone else. Couldn’t risk it. He already had four mouths to feed- if he even managed to find someone, how could he trust them? How could he trust to leave them around the kids? As of now, everything was- fine. Okay. The oldest, a teenager named Cliff Racer- who’d been at the hospital for her broken leg- she could take care of the younger ones when First Aid would go out. She knew how to shoot a gun, knew how to take care of the littler kids. Of course it wasn’t ideal. But it was what they had.

How much fuel did they have stored? If power went out tonight, First Aid could run it. Should he run it? Maybe not. The windows weren’t covered yet. The fridges all had perishables, though- he’d need to clear them out first. The blood bags. The milk. How much baby formula did they have? He needed to get more. Shit- the vaccines- were all the kids up to date? The babies, certainly not. How many months old?… DTaP, IPV, HepB-

Breathe. First Aid took a shaky inhale in, and out. He hadn’t slept last night and he wouldn’t sleep tonight, either. Just naps through the day. Like night shift work. But it made him exhausted still, and he was panicking. Of course he’d panic. How could he feed all of them by himself? Take care of all of them? If both of the babies needed twenty cans of formula per month- finding that alone would be difficult. Nevermind feeding a growing child and a growing teenager. Even if he could do the most basic of food, rice and beans, how long would that even last? Before-

…Before what?

He didn’t know. He glanced back outside, and this time, towards the edge of the mountains that flanked the city.

Maybe it would be a good idea to move out soon.

[xomissyj]

Hey there, girlies, welcome back to my ✨blog✨. Today's topic is something that's very familiar to us, i think it's not something new- poverty in the Philippines. It's a tough one, I know, but we're all about keeping it real here. So, let's dive in. Poverty isn't just about not having cash; it's about not having enough for the basics – food, shelter, and a future. It's about kids who should be in school, but are out there trying to earn a living instead. It's about families who can't even remember what it's like to have three meals in a day. The big reason? Lack of jobs. Especially in the countryside, where there's land is plenty but scarce opportunities, poor people are stuck. They're working hard, but what's there to show for it? Not much. And education – or the lack of it – is like a broken ladder. Kids are trying to climb up, but they're getting nowhere. Without education, they're trapped in the same cycle as their parents, and that's just not fair. Now, homelessness – that's a whole other layer of the poverty story. It's more than not having a roof over your head. It's about lacking security, dignity, and a place to call your own. When you're homeless, you're vulnerable – to the weather, to danger, and to things that can literally end your life. it's sad to see them experiencing those problems in life. And those things are what makes me grateful to what i have now. Grateful that I've got a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and a chance to study. Sometimes, it's true that we need to be content with what we have and be thankful. At least we don't go to sleep worried, wondering how we'll survive tomorrow. It's heartbreaking to see kids working tough jobs just to eat, or doing illegal stuff out of desperation. If they had a choice, if they weren't hungry or in need, they wouldn't do it. But they swallow their pride because they've got families to feed. Sometimes, I wonder why it seems like those who can least afford it have the most kids...? I guess everyone has their own reasons haha.

But here's the thing – Don't lose hope, even in the darkest corners, there's light. There are people out there making a difference, one small act of kindness at a time. And that's what we've got to focus on. Change might seem slow, but it's happening. And we've all got a part to play in it. So, what do you think? How can we tackle these issues head-on? Drop your thoughts in the comments and stay tuned for more topics like this.