#and two everyone's got their shit problems

[its44intheehouse]

OFF-LIMITS. -Rafe Cameron.

Pairing: best friend!rafe x fem!reader

summary: rafe has always been your sweet, loving best friend. until he showed you he’s way more than that.

author’s note: had a cute idea for a fic. hope you’ll enjoy. as always, this is filthy. -xoxo, cherry💋

warnings: possessive!rafe, borderline crazy, obsessive!rafe, mentions of violence, rafe being a perv in secret, mentions of JJ Maybank flirting with reader, choking, face slapping, rough, unprotected p!v, loss of virginity, praising, degradation, breeding kink (baby trapping)

Being Rafe's precious best friend meant that you were always going to get spoiled. Many women wished for the things he was constantly offering you; his undivided attention, his affection, random, huge amounts of money sent to your bank account everytime you'd tell him you had a bad day, or if you wanted to get your nails done, or go for shopping, sometimes insisting he'd come along, protection, maybe a little too much of it at times, everything you could ever want.

You were the most important thing in his life, since he never really had much of a relationship with his family, all of them treating him like he was a disease, something to be avoided at all costs, only bringing pain and suffering to those around him, like they'd often tell him. But you never saw him that way, and you hated his family for pushing him away and hurting his feelings like that. You were always there for him, his biggest supporter, the only one who could calm him down when he'd come knocking on your window late at night after having a fight with his father, the one taking care of him and putting a smile on his face. And he loved you for that.

But being Rafe's precious best friend also meant that you were off-limits to everyone else. You knew he had a tendency of being rather... intense, when it comes to you. Shit, everyone knew it, too, always choosing to stay at an arm's length from you in fear of what Rafe might think. Ever since you two were kids, he was always protective of you, and he absolutely hated the idea of sharing you.

As you got older though, it got worse. You couldn't even talk to a boy without him pulling you away immediately, and if you did, he'd always make sure to claim you in some way, wrapping his strong hands around you, or placing his big hand on your ass "innocently", always throwing daggers with his eyes and making sure that whatever asshole was trying to talk to you could see that you were unavailable. That he wasn't playing about you. His pretty princess. He didn't like it when you'd hang out with Topper and Kelce either, but since they were his friends, and they definitely knew not to fuck with him, he let it slide. But only because most of the time, he was with you, never leaving your side and silently taking notes of every time one of them would get a bit too close or be too kind to you for his liking.

You never had a problem with it. Rafe always knew best. That's what he'd always tell you, and you never had a reason not to believe him. He always took care of you. Many people talked and raised eyebrows constantly around you, not believing even for a second that you two were just best friends. There was no way that was all.

To you, it was just white noise. You were so used to Rafe and his behaviour that you didn't bat an eye ever at the closeness between you. He was just Rafey, your beloved best friend.

But little did you know the lengths that he'd go through to make sure you stayed by his side. That you'd remain his. His little bunny, oblivious to the real reason he's always asking to see your phone, hiding his true intentions with the excuse of just “checking for something", or "playing music" or wanting to "take photos" of you, when the real reason was that he was going borderline crazy just thinking about you secretly talking to boys on there. Oblivious to the real reason his knuckles were violently bruised once in a while, promising you that it was nothing, when in reality, he almost killed a few boys for talking about you or looking at you in a filthy way, or trying to spark a conversation with you. Clueless about the way he was always watching you, even when you thought he wasn't around. Following you in secrecy, almost everytime you'd leave the house, just to make sure that you were safe and you weren't planning on seeing someone else behind his back. Completely unaware of the way he'd steal a pair of your panties once a month, sometimes washed, but most of the time used, snatched right out of your laundry basket, just to fulfill his sick, filthy fantasies in the privacy of his room at night, when no one would be awake to hear his moans and your name slipping from his lips as he fisted his impossibly hard cock so fast that he was seeing stars.

He thought it was cute. How you never suspected anything, how blindly you trusted him. And he was fine with you not knowing just how obsessed he was, for a while.

However, his patience was starting to fade. With every pearly smile, every innocent look you threw his way, those short skirts and sundresses you liked to wear that he swore you were wearing on purpose, just to make him go mad. Everytime you'd sit on his lap, or press your cute little ass against him when you'd dance at a party.

Everything was slowly but surely driving him insane, and it was only a matter of time until he was going to finally take what he wanted, what was rightfully his, and only his.

In his mind, the moment you'd find out about his true feelings towards you was going to be romantic, he'd make sure to be careful not to scare you off, he'd make you realize just how much you need him and how much he loved you.

So why did you just have to ruin that, by letting a damn pogue, JJ Maybank of all people, flirt with you? He thought he was going to lose his mind when he'd caught you two on the beach, talking without a care in the world, that stupid pogue scanning your body shamelessly and complimenting your little outfit that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He thought he was smart and fearless, trying to get into your pants like that.

He thought.

Oh, how he hated that you had to make it hard for him and yourself by doing that. He had trusted you, showed you his love, his devotion, for so many years, and there you were, pushing him to do something so reckless that might make you hate him.

But no... he wouldn't have that. He was going to make sure you never looked at another man again, that he would be the only one for you.

Forever.

"My dumb little princess, always so fucking oblivious." He grunted, pounding into your little pussy violently while he gripped your cheeks painfully, making your juicy lips pout. "You don't know what you did to me back there, baby. You're lucky that little shit is still alive after what he tried to pull."

His tone was soft, almost mocking, but you were having trouble processing his words, too messy and too cock drunk to hear anything as you took what he gave you helplessly, your abused cunt swallowing him greedily with each thrust of his hips.

"I told you not to run off by yourself, didn't I? Told you you should only stick by my side. You. Only. Stay. With. Me." He barked, empathizing his words with harsh thrusts, knocking the air out of your lungs and having your back arch off the bed.

"M' sorry, Rafey! I... I didn't mean to, I promise!" You cried out, digging your manicured fingers into his shoulders as you used them for support.

He just chuckled, the sound dark and lacking any amusement. You didn't mean to. Of course you didn't.

"Yeah? Then what the fuck were you smiling at Maybank for, huh?! Letting him look at you, talk to you, when you know that shit pisses me off? You tryna be a whore or something?!" He snapped, grabbing onto the back of your thighs and folding them to your chest, the new angle allowing his cock to stretch you even more and hit your cervix deliciously.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your lips parted with a loud, pornographic moan.

This wasn't the Rafe you were used to. Your soft, caring, loving best friend, and even if you knew of his outbursts, his undeniable issues, he always made sure to keep that side of him away from you, only treating you like a delicate flower, worshiping you with all his heart. Now, he was a completely different person, and maybe you should've hated him for taking everything from you like that, your sweet, precious virginity, but to your surprise, you loved it. And the way your pussy was fluttering around him uncontrollably was a clear sign of that.

"Well shit, would you look at that." Rafe smirked, leaning closer and folding your legs further, the pain adding to the pleasure you were starting to feel at the pits of your stomach. He wrapped his fingers around your slim throat, applying pressure to the sides of your neck and humming in satisfaction at the way your teary eyes widened in shock. "My pretty princess likes being called a whore, huh?"

"R-Rafe! Please, please!" You begged, but you didn't know what for.

"You were just begging for some cock, weren't you? This slutty hole needed a good pounding that bad. What a shame, baby..." He tsked, shaking his head and leaning to peck your trembling lips briefly, before switching up and slapping your cheek, the sharp sound echoing in the room along with the filthy sounds of your skin slapping and your wet pussy squelching around him.

"My dick is the only one this cunt will ever see, understood?!"

You let out a short scream and clenched around him viciously, his words making your head spin.

You were sure you were scratching his back to the point it was almost bleeding, but you couldn't help it, feeling like you were going to pass out with his hand coming back to squeeze your throat and with the way his pace picked up, the bed creaking underneath you like it was going to break with the force of his thrusts.

"Yes! Yes, Rafey!" You managed to say between moans and pathetic whimpers, reaching out and grasping his wrist, your small fingers wrapping around it.

You looked so beautiful to him right now. Unreal. With tears rolling down your soft cheeks, those pretty doe eyes looking up at him submissively, not hiding the way your pupils were blown in pure lust, only for him. Red, swollen lips from his kisses, your carefully applied makeup that was now ruined on your face, an obsessive amount of marks that were going to become flashy bruises, all over your neck and your chest, a clear reminder for you and everyone else that he owned you. The sweet sounds coming from your lips were like music to his ears, the countless nights where he'd imagine how you'd sound like, how you'd feel wrapped around his cock now useless, because nothing could compare to the real thing.

"Sweet angel taking cock so well. 'S like you were made for me, baby... Don't you think so? Look at how greedy this pussy is. Taking me like a pro." He praised, pulling back a little and tilting his head to the side and watching the way he slipped and pushed into you so easily, your slick covering his entire length, a hint of pink around his base, the evidence of your innocence being ripped away from you, now belonging to him.

Letting go of your neck, you finally gasped for air, blinking stupidly at him with your long lashes. But then, he suddenly reached out and grasped your hair, fisting it and yanking your head forward with force, having you watch the way he was stretching you repeatedly.

"Look how good you're taking me. This is all mine. Mine. No one will ever get to see you like this, baby... Gonna make sure of it. You'll never think about another boy ever again. You belong to me, you always have." His lips stretched into a smirk, the look in his eyes possessed as he watched you squirm and whimper, almost unable to keep your eyes open with the tears blocking your sight.

"Say it. Say this pussy belongs to me. You belong to me." He growled, his once blue eyes that were now dark and possessed burning a hole through you, his fingers gripping your hair tighter and pushing your head back. His body pressed against yours as his other hand sneaked its way to your pussy, his thumb pressing against your puffy, sensitive clit and rubbing it back and forth rapidly.

Your thighs were shaking around his waist, and your small body was trashing underneath him as you whined and locked eyes with his.

"It's yours, Rafey! Pussy's yours. I'm yours!"

"Fucking right. You'll never get away from me, even if you tried. I own you. You're never leaving me." He spat, the possessive words only making you squeeze his cock tighter.

It was supposed to be a threat maybe, but in your fucked up state, it was the hottest thing.

You wouldn't be able to live without Rafe anyway, you were so dependent on him, on his attention, his love, that the thought of ever being without him felt wrong.

Then, a sudden thought came to him. How could he make sure that you were never going to escape him? That you were only going to need him, for the rest of your life, just like he needed you. Maybe he could knock you up. Surely you'll never be able to run away if he got you big and swollen with his baby. You'll be his forever. God, only the thought made his body shiver. You'd look even more beautiful this way. Glowing, all because of him. Carrying his heir in that pretty belly of yours. Giving him a family to take care of.

An animalistic growl escaped from deep inside him, and his hips snapped frantically against yours with a newfound purpose now as he smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your whimpers. The kiss was filled with possessiveness as he tried to claim you in every way possible, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you greedily while you tried to keep up with him, every once in a while clashing your teeth together as he rocked your fragile body into the mattress. When he pulled back, a string of your shared saliva connected your lips, and he grinned at you, but in a way that had the hairs on your body stand up.

"Think I know what to do with you, princess. Think I'm gonna get you knocked up. Yeah. You'd look so pretty like that, you'll be so full of me you won't even be able to walk. And everyone will know, baby... Everyone will know who did that to you. That you're carrying my baby inside of you. Rafe Cameron's baby. My heir."

[ramshacklefey]

Wait hang on this actually got me thinking about the stuff that leads up to Waternoose (ohhhh shit I just got his name wow) being held accountable:

Mike and Sully realize that the narrative of human children being dangerous is false.

They act against social and legal standards to protect Boo.

They discover that Randall is acting to exploit children in the interests of the company.

They try to inform Waternoose of Randall's actions and discover that he is complicit in them, claiming that he is doing it to protect society from the disaster of having insufficient resources.

They decide to act against Waternoose, the interests of the company, and possibly the interests of their society as a whole, because all of those things are dependent on causing harm to and exploitation of another group.

The government agency responsible for protecting Monster society from the perceived "danger" of human children acts to reveal Waternoose's corruption and hold him accountable, again in spite of the fact that this will destroy the company and cost Monster society their main source of energy.

Mike and Sulley realize that there is an alternative form of energy available that is better than Scream and doesn't require exploiting others.

THE KEY ELEMENT HERE IS THE HEAD OF THE CDA ACTING AGAINST WATERNOOSE.

Roz could have turned a blind eye to Waternoose because his plan would benefit their society in the short term. She had the power to do that. But she chose her duty to protect society from corruption and greed over everything else.

That's what allowed Mike and Sulley to use their new knowledge to improve their society's well-being and prevent the harm being done by the collection of Scream.

Without Roz, Waternoose would have gotten rid of Sulley and Mike, preventing them from realizing that there was an alternate source of energy available. The Scream Extractor was already a solution to the problem, and it's one that fit in with the social belief that children are dangerous!

So, what's the takeaway here?

It's that social/political changes will only come about if:

Ordinary citizens have the knowledge needed to find new ways of doing things;

Those citizens are willing to act against social norms and powerful people to protect others. (And potentially to act on their discoveries. Mike and Sulley had all the pieces they needed to discover the power of laughter before Waternoose was gone. In the story, it didn't come to this, but we can imagine a scenario where they tried to set up a new business in competition to Waternoose.); AND

Those with the power to regulate and hold accountable people like Waternoose actually do so.

When it comes to many current problems in our society, we already have the first two things in place. Our Waternooses are actively working to prevent Number 3 from being a thing. They're to get rid of Number 1 by destroying education systems. They're trying to get rid of Number 2 by convincing people that they're invincible and necessary to the functioning of our society. That there's no hope for change and that trying to change will hurt everyone.

If we want to change things, we have to stop them from doing that. And we can. We have the means to work from the bottom up, to educate and encourage others, and to start forcing that change.

And damn if a kids' movie from 2001 didn't manage to say all that. (I give the corporates who funded the movie no credit for agreeing or supporting that message, but the writers and animators who managed to get the movie past them.)

[allmylovc]

heartless!chris takes care of you when you´re drunk.

There had been a campus party tonight, and let´s just say you were having the time of your life. Now that you and chris broke up (again) you were able to enjoy it without any stress of him doing some stupid shit or getting mad over you doing some stupid shit.

You made out with like 10 diffrent guys, and took way too many shots, while chris stood there in the corner watching you like a hawk. He was seething. He hated seeing you around other men, it was disgusting watching you throw yourself on all these guys that you´ve never even met.

He walks up to you after he saw you stumble out the bathroom, and plop on the couch. He takes your drink out hand, your head shoots up "Hey!" you protest as you reach to take your drink back. He shakes his head and sighs "What´s wrong with you, huh?" he said as he taps your head with his other hand.

"Nothing." you scoffed, with an adorable pout on your lips. He rolled his eyes "You´re acting like such a dumbass today." your heart ached at his words. He always acted like this when you two broke up, but he wasn´t any better and he would do the same. So why was it a problem when you did it?

He tilted his head and smirked "C´mon, you´re to drunk to be around all these people." he said as he reached his hand out for you to take.

Which you did.

You two stood up and made your way out the party. He took you to his car, buckled your seatbelt for you and drove off. Once you two got to his place he got you carefully out the car and took you inside.

The second you stepped foot inside you felt that uneasy feeling in your stomach “I’m gonna puke.” you said as you put a hand over your mouth. His eyes widen and he immediately takes you over to the bathroom. Your stomach churns, and you bend over the toilet, barely holding yourself upright.

The nausea is overwhelming, and all you can do is gag, your body shaking with each heave. Chris is kneeling beside you, holding your hair into a make shift ponytail.

His face twists up in disgust as he hears your vomit pouring into the toilet “Let it all out.” He said quietly, as his fingers brushed through your hair.

You wipe your mouth and flush the toilet, and sit back on the cold tile, your legs weak and trembling beneath you. Chris sits down as well, leaning his back over the tub with a grunt.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, you looked up meeting his gaze, you shrugged “I don’t know, chris.” You ran a hand through your hair—moving it away from your face “I was sick of your bullshit,” he scoffed and shook his head “So you’re blaming you being drunk and stupid on me?” he laughed bitterly “Of course.” he huffed “Cause you’re always right, and everyone else is wrong.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes “That’s not what i meant.” you protested “Then what did you mean?” he snapped “You acting stupid and being a fucking slut has nothing to do with me.” he retorted harshly.

The silence grew heavy and so did the tension in the room. Maybe he was right, maybe you were being a total fucking slut, but in your defense you just wanted to forget about him.

“You know how pissed i was when i saw you make out with all those guys?” he admitted silently. You felt a glimmer of happiness knowing you were able to successfully make him jealous, but even then you still felt a bit of guilt gnawing at your chest.

He met your gaze “This is.. this is stupid.” he scoffed, you nodded in agreement “I know it is,” you sighed as you sat straight “I just wish you wouldn’t act the way you act all the time.” He bit his lips “Yeah.” he whispered “I’m sorry.”

“You act so heartless all the time, chris.” he said quietly, he bit the inside of his cheek “I just wish you could show me how you feel sometimes.” he continued.

You two just sat there for a moment in the awkward silence, and the heavy tension in the room. You both fucked up bad, but unlike him you were willing to talk and apologize for your actions. Meanwhile he just sat there and said absolutely nothing.

You looked up and sighed “I love you, chris.” your confession hanging in the air, he didn’t even look at you or show a hint of sympathy or affection he just nodded.

“I know.”

©ALLMYLOVC all rights reserved.

�� authors note  — woohoo first heartless!chris blurb, and i don’t how to feel about it, idk why i criticize my work so much, but enjoy! i apologize if there are any misspelled words or grammar errors. english is not my first language.

tags: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @zebonos @/sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

-

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

[cloveroctobers]

access all areas — 10. Zilla Fatu [Winter Prompts]

A/N: i was battling between making this either Jey or Zilla inspired…and I decided to risk it lol s/o tiktok for putting me on again yet I’m still learning him lol 🩵

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 27. confessing a crush when it's snowing. DIALOGUE PROMPTS —“It's just a wish, I know wishes don't come true." // "Who told you that?"

WARNINGS: This is a shorty fluff! absolutely the language! Suggestive themes & Zilla being Zilla? Whatever that means 😉

<- if you’re bored or open to reading something else cute read my previous floppy flop anthology prompt here.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

“You calm down yet?” Is the first thing you say to the brooding man, sliding the door shut behind you as you step out onto the deck.

He sucks his teeth in response, not taking his glare from the approaching evening view, elbows resting along the banister, “Don’t come over here wit that mane.”

You laugh, squeezing the collar of your fur jacket tighter around your neck while you took a spot beside him, “Or what? You gonna cuss me out too? Everybody knew what they were doing sending me out here to deal with your ass.”

Zilla rolls his dark eyes up to the sky.

He knows there were plenty of options that could have had the task of talking to him: Jacob who knew Zilla pretty well and always tried to coach him into having a level head but after that shit he just pulled with Solo at his log cabin? That man was ready to toss Zilla out on his ass himself! Then there was Jimmy who usually tried to see everyone’s POV and that he did when it came to Zilla and Solo’s everlasting beef, Jey (who was currently tipsy) no longer had patience for Zilla’s mouth and as much as the twenty-five year old loved to be at functions with Jey, when they got into disagreements it always had the potential to go extremely left (their tempers combined was insane work) between the two however they could always squash it at the end of the day, and even Roman who was just getting the chance to really know the youngest member, was witnessing it all and open to figuring out where Zilla’s head was at—since they were all in their twenties once before.

Ultimately you stepped up (with light pushing from the other ladies, mainly Ava and Jey) to make sure Zilla was alright after he and Solo almost threw hands. It was all going so well, everyone was having a good time until the competitive sides egos came out.

“And how’s that? You not getting me to sit around the campfire and singing songs with that mutha—

“Alright, relax.” You interrupt with your hand held up, “How is it that I’m cool with your own blood and you’re not?”

Zilla muttered, “Maybe that’s part of the problem too.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What?”

“Let’s not act like I didn’t see him tryin’ to push up on you.”

You’re frowning now.

You and Solo been friends long before you met Zilla. At first you didn’t think he was even open getting to know you because you had ties with Sikoa but eventually Zilla pulled his head out of his ass, apologized for being an asshole for awhile, and you two were able to turn over a new leaf. There were no doubts that the both of you heavily got on each other’s nerves—Virgo men—but somehow there was always love there.

“It’s not like that.” You sigh, “Never has been and I don’t know why I have to sound like a damn broken record for you to get it.” You snap, leaning on your own elbow, and pressing another hand into your hip.

He blinks, “Does he know that?”

“I’m not doin’ this with you, Isayah.” You exasperate, “I came out here to check on your well-being, not you focusing on non-existent problems. Especially when you’re still out here entertaining other bitches like a dog in heat.”

It’s Zilla’s turn to furrow his brows.

“I dunno where that’s comin’ from but I’ll bite, say what’s on your mind then, ma.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you peek down at your acrylics as if that was more important, “…I’m just saying you’re using whatever you can find—something as ridiculous as Solo being into me, as an excuse to whoop his ass at any given time, is funny when your phones been going off from your little groupies since you got here.”

“Ah,” Zilla leans back and points, “You keepin’ tabs on me? How sweet.”

“Shut up, ain’t nobody thinking about you.”

Zilla smirks, “I mean…it’s coo if you are.”

“Me when I’m trying to deflect.”

“I’m not.” Zilla laughs a little, “I don’t gotta lie to you. There’s been a few that I’ve been talkin’ to but it’s never gone any further…cause I’m waiting on your ass, surprisingly.”

From the corner of your eye you spot flakes starting to glide down from the sky. The deck suddenly feels warm compared to the frigid air that first greeted you and almost made you want to crawl back inside.

“Huh?” Is all you can get out.

Zilla mocks you, “Huh? You heard me.”

“So…” you kick at the air awkwardly now, “I guess this is the part where I confess I’m feelin’ you too.”

He nods, “I thought that shit was obvious way back when I was hittin’ it right on Halloween with my hands around your throat?”

Instantly you smack his arm, making him laugh and lick his lips. “I didn’t need a refresher, thank you!”

“I dunno I thought your ass might of forgot,” Zilla turns to fully face you now, “I certainly didn’t.”

And there he goes giving you that taunting stare, that could make one with the most fear in their heart, quiver in place.

Reaching a ring finger out to the man, he breaks eye contact for a moment and reaches his own hand out to interlock with yours. It’s instant static but it’s brief because he’s tugging you right into his embrace. You melt into his frame, his arms locking around you just right as you gently sway side to side in the cold evening. Of course one hand that isn’t wrapped around your shoulders, slides down to hold your backside that’s buried beneath your fur jacket��knowing he would much rather get a real feel—you laugh to yourself.

“Can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I mean…you just said you’re down to be mine, no?”

“I don’t know if I said all that.” You pull back to glance down at his lips, a smile playing on your own glossed ones.

He closes one eye pretending to think about it, “You kinda did admitting your truth to me, girl. Don’t act brand new.”

“That’s all you!” You go to shove him with a laugh, that he mirrors, “Actin’ all fool over you know who when he’s just a friend and whomever is in your phone, you need to dead that by the way.”

“Yes ma’am.” He agrees, “Can I get some love now?”

“Are my hugs not enough?”

“Yeah sure, you smell divine and look even better but I’m really trying to see what you taste like.”

Oh?!

“I thought you didn’t forget.”

“Of my other girl, nah.” He shifts his eyes down your frame, making you gasp, ready to smack him again, “Sweeter than any cherry pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“You don’t like cherry pie.”

He shrugs as if it’s obvious, “You’re my exclusive.”

Shaking your head, you’re not sure what exactly you were going to do with this man but you turn to get a better view of the snow that started to come down harder now. Like a young child, you go to the banister to gaze up at the pretty fluffs that demanded to be seen.

You feel the weight of Zilla’s arms lock around you now, which makes you lean back against him, enjoying his warmth—despite the fact that he was only outside in a hoodie—which you didn’t want to hear a thing about when he caught a cold—and the touch of his lips against your neck.

“…Whatchu wish for?” He asks after a moment, noticing that your eyes were closed as soon as you spotted a star that flew through the sky.

If you blinked you might have missed it.

You’ve always been into shooting stars and the galaxies and shit. Zilla could be a yapper himself but he remembers a late night session after your first and only time together, that y’all got into a conversation of the unknown.

Granted you may or may not have been under the influence that Halloween night but those thoughts still occurred even without.

Lightly turning your head against his collarbone, you realized you’ve been caught, “It's just a wish, I know wishes don't come true."

Zilla frowns, “Who told you that?”

“It’s silly.” Your attempt to persuade him to drop it would be ignored.

Zilla scoffs, “It was me wasn’t it? You don’t gotta be shy about it…plus I actually like hearing what’s on your mind if we’re being honest.” He taps at your temple gently.

You can’t help but to beam at him, “Aw, aren’t you cute!”

Zilla rolls his eyes at you slightly squealing, “Don’t start.”

“Want a kiss?”

“Hell yeah…New Years about to come early.” He returns the grin, licking his lips as you spin to wrap one arm over his shoulders, the other goes to lightly scratch at the back of his head just how he liked, foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other, as you breathe each other in just before Zilla makes the move to place his lips right on yours.

He still knew how to make your toes curl just with one kiss.

“I love yo ass.” Zilla admits, once he catches his breath, an ounce of fear shining through his own dark eyes for a moment before he easily masked it.

A smile that reaches your own eyes speaks before you do, “I know.”

Zilla throws his head back in annoyance, “Forreal? This what you on?”

You nod playfully, “Can’t give you too much access can I?”

“Access?” Zilla repeats with a glance from underneath his lashes, “We been passed that, don’t you think, baby?”

Humming you move to rest both hands on his chest, “I would say you’re right and the feeling is mutual but that might get to your head.” You tease.

Zilla rubs at his face, laughing to himself, “Oh aight, bet. Imma get it out of you though, just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it.” You wink, pulling the sides of his hood forward more as a brisk chill full of snow glided by you two, and then you toss your leg up over his hip.

Zilla doesn’t hesitate to grip your clothed flesh, his gaze darkening as you lightly bite your bottom lip, “Yeah, I think you’re asking for trouble as if you don’t know that I’m about it any time and anywhere. That hot tub cover is calling our names.”

You peek around his frame, leaning a bit to see the covered tub up ahead and that was enough of a hint into Zilla’s mind.

“Ayo! Y’all better be clothed out here!” Jey calls out, peering through his fingers and lets out a sigh of relief, “Zil, your time out is over! Bring your asses back in here, we about to fire up: den of thieves.”

Zilla groans as he says back over his shoulder to his older cousin, “Man, why your drunk ass gotta be so loud for?! Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Well get un-busy! I’m sure you will find some other time to get nasty at some point while we’re all here…and you’re welcome by the way!” Jey sends the two a grin before leaving the door open, letting you two know that this wasn’t up for debate.

Watching action movies was part of the family gathering, along with a lot of shit talking and over talking that definitely pissed a few off that we’re trying to get into the storyline. You and Solo were part of the few that hated excessive talking so you just hoped the snacks were good.

Placing a lingering kiss on an irritated Zilla, you savored his lips, which turned a scowl into a smile, then you intertwined your fingers, dragging him back into the cabin full of chaos.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

[firstelevens]

22 for sambucky? :)

22. things you said after it was over

It would be nice, Sam decides, if the people around him could acknowledge, just one time, that he's a goddamn professional.

Sure, they're willing to trust his tactical assessments and follow his plans in the field, and there's plenty of mentoring opportunities where they actively seek out his advice, but apparently that doesn't mean shit. Apparently, at the end of the day, Sam's team--and a number of people who aren't on Sam's team, which is kind of the problem--is convinced that he'll handle any given awkward situation with all the grace and professionalism of a thirteen-year-old.

Nobody has said as much, of course, but he can feel all of their eyes on him, their interest barely disguised as they watch him from across the jet. Whatever world-ending threat it is that demands the presence of both Team Cap and the Thunderbolts, it's been overshadowed by the mere act of Sam walking across the jet to sit beside his ex.

Bucky, at least, doesn't give him anything more than a glance of acknowledgment as Sam takes a seat on the bench. There's about a foot of space between them, and Sam is abruptly reminded of the time when there used to be no space there at all, when the furthest that either of them could bear to be was still near enough to orbit the other.

"Torres still thinks I'm the one who broke up with you and you're covering for me," Bucky says, by way of greeting. His jaw is tight, so different from the sweet smile he used to send Sam's way when he was about to either be very sweet or a complete nuisance. "You might want to refresh your team on intel gathering."

Sam snorts, but he doesn't feel particularly like laughing. "If Torres can't believe the truth when he hears it, we've got much bigger problems than how he thinks our relationship ended."

All he gets in response is a grunt, Bucky's eyes focusing back on the paperback in his hands.

"I'm not here to talk about Torres, anyway," says Sam.

"No?" asks Bucky, flat. "And I was so sure you were here to braid my hair and tell me that he finally asked you out."

Sam, a goddamn professional, ignores the jibe. "I'm here because AJ's twelfth birthday is next week, and Sarah says you still haven't RSVP-ed."

"What do you mean?" asks Bucky. "I told her weeks ago I couldn't make it."

"Yeah, that was the wrong answer," says Sam, crossing his arms. "It's AJ's birthday. Everyone he loves is going to be there. You're not skipping it."

Bucky's eyes narrow in irritation, and although it's directed at Sam, he still feels a rush of relief that it's no longer the closed-off expression he was getting earlier. "Is that an order, Cap?" he sneers. "You know I don't answer to you anymore, right?"

"You never answered to me to start with," snaps Sam. "And it's not an order; it's an invitation."

"I know I'm getting up there in years, so maybe my memory's going, but invitations are usually requests, aren't they?" asks Bucky. "There's not generally a right answer."

"Fine. It's not an invitation. It's a reminder," he says. "AJ loves you and you love him. He wants you at his party, and you wouldn't break his heart by missing it."

Bucky scowls, crossing his arms. "You sound very sure of yourself."

"Oh, I am," Sam says. "I already worked it out with Sarah and everything."

He can see Bucky trying not to take the bait, but after a long moment, Bucky's frown gets deeper as he asks, "Worked what out with Sarah?"

"AJ and I are going on a trip before his birthday to celebrate, just the two of us," says Sam. "The day of the party, I'll be on call, so I won't be there. For whatever it's worth."

But naturally, Bucky can't let anything be easy, so he gets all huffy. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Sam. Why would you be on call during AJ's birthday party?"

Sam mirrors Bucky's scowl. He hasn't missed these arguments. "So we can fix the stupidest thing I've ever heard, which is you telling Sarah that AJ's favorite person can't come to his birthday party because it would be 'uncomfortable' for one person who's not even that relevant to the party."

"It's AJ's birthday," says Bucky. "His uncle should be there."

"And he will be," says Sam, with his fiercest glare. "Right?"

He watches realization color Bucky's face, slowly melting into wonder.

"Oh," says Bucky, softly. The look on his face, all tender, heartbreaking awe, triggers Sam's muscle memory so fast that his hands are reaching out to hold Bucky almost before he realizes that it's happening. He snatches them back as soon as he clocks it, but Bucky is clearly too caught up to notice either way.

"Yeah, oh," Sam says, trying for the even tone he'd used earlier. "So you'll be there?"

Bucky nods shakily, his eyes still wide. They look a little glossy, maybe, but Sam can't fault him for that.

"I'll be there," he whispers. "Thank you, Sam."

"Of course," says Sam, pushing off the bench seat. He clears his throat. "Be safe out there."

"You, too," is the immediate response. There's a drawing-in of breath, like maybe Bucky has something more to say, but nothing else follows, and eventually, Sam is out of reasons to stay. It's hard to pull himself out of Bucky's orbit all the same.

[caelcstis]

small apologies to anyone who saw me have a whole breakdown on the dash over the weekend

essentially money's always an issue in my house.

rent's bumped up to $1610 but they didn't bump it last year so my mom and i couldn't complain. her car got repossessed late friday night into early saturday morning because my friend and i were out swimming that night and we saw it still there when i was dropped off damn near midnight and i didn't get the dogs back out until 1 am before crashing in bed.

i only just got my permit again, and i have no car because we sold mine when i was like 20/21 to just have extra pocket money for rent and a car payment. it's been an issue since i was a kid, and my mom's kind of been bringing me down that path now that i have a job and was capable of building credit. i now have shit credit, which means i can't get a new place to live for the both of us since she's getting older, it'd be hard for me to find a place to sell me a car. i work a job that's pays me now $12.70 and have been told since april i would be getting full time and a raise. credit cards have been charged off, i still have one company down my throat to pay them back by the end of the month which if i had the money, i would.

regardless, money's always been an issue, having lost our one vehicle of transportation just kind of made me snap. my friend who was supposed to pick me up had her boyfriend - who i am not fond of, pick me up because she went an hour away for fucking fish being sold at her campground. i was at work, i had a new person working up there with me and i just couldn't babysit. i got through it since i convinced my morning worker to stay. i bought her a coffee with whatever money i had, i made sure she got a scratchy that lets her get money off groceries and i was basically in tears saturday night that everyone knew because i just couldn't keep myself together.

sunday it was a little better, especially when my sister said she'd help my mother get her car back and even chewed her out for not telling us sooner - not that i could help much. but if i knew she was struggling that much i would have taken on other bills like more for electric, internet, gas - but she never told me. especially when i was working 40+ hours a week for a month and a half.

i was just really stressed, overwhelmed and mad at my whole situation because we've been living like this since i was 11 and i'm turning 25. it's exhausting and i was just so pissed off between the situation with the car, my friend abandoning me it felt like, and just having to be at work when i wasn't in the mental state and i knew i couldn't leave because no one would come in or stay for me. no one fucking cares about the work i do or how hard i work. they just care it gets done. just hope asset protection enjoys me collapsing in the corner of the cash office bawling my eyes out because i just couldn't stop myself at one point because of my anxiety.

but yes, i apologize if i worried anyone, especially when i never really responded to anyone. i just needed more of a place to vent it out in the small ways i could. i'm okay now, my sister help pay off what was owed and hopefully my mother gets her car back tomorrow.

it's not perfect for me still, but it's a little lighter.

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters

[weekendviking]

Actually, good summary, excepting cast iron is _too_much_ carbon - usually about 5-6%. For carbon steels, you want between 0.7-2%, if that, which is the reason for cast iron then going to the oxygen blast furnaces. Basically, there were historically two ways to get iron - Bloomery Smelter, which was the smallish charcoal fueled cylindrical stack furnace used by most iron age cultures throughout the world, and which only went out of fashion in the 18th century, and higher bellows efficiency Blast Furnaces, which were initially a thing with the Chinese, and stayed there, and weren't really a thing anywhere else until the 16th century and later, and what we call a Blast Furnace didn't really turn up until Bessemer made a breakthrough in the early 19th century.

The principle reason for the difference between Asian Blast furnace technology and Indo-Euro-Afro Bloomery furnace technology is that the first people in China who thought 'How do we make a thing to blow air at our fire to make it hotter' solved that problem by making a disc on a stick piston pump out of bamboo, while the first people who had that thought in India/Africa/Europe made a bag out of an animal skin and squeezed it. Both technologies then improved their system by putting inlet and outlet flap valves, tubes and refractory tuyere/nozzles on that, and pointing it at their furnace, and Yay, you can have a bronze age, and then later, an iron age. Away we go.

But, and this is crucial, the Chinese bamboo piston pump could have inlet and outlet flap valves at either end, so it was _double_acting_, whichever way the piston was moving, air was being pushed into the fire with very little pause between strokes. This made it more efficient, and very scaleable, because you can build a very big wooden box with a piston and inlet/outlet valves at either end with very little other tool and infrastructure needed. Whereas if you're making bellows like all the rest of us, out of a couple of animal skins, well, the rest of us quite quickly changed our skin bag to 'two wooden flaps and a hinge and a flap valve, and if you want continuous air flow, use two or more at once', and that bellows style of 'two big wooden panels with handles on the end and a leather bag' sorta limited the size and efficiency and stayed with us to the early blast furnace era in the 17th-18th century and then finally went out of style as we got steam power and could use fans instead. But over in China, those big bamboo piston derived double action box bellows meant that in their bronze age, they were doing tonnes of bronze at once, whereas everyone else was mostly doing much smaller kilos to tens of kilos or hundreds of kilos, not tonnes to tens of tonnes, all because of the more efficient bellows technology in China.

But that meant, as the knowledge that you could get a useful metal out of rusty ochre ores spread out of Anatolia, when that knowledge got to China, well, they chucked a whole lot of it in one of their big ass high oxygen blast box bellows furnaces, and got a molten, high carbon, brittle cast iron out of it. And said 'This stuff is shit, use it to cast hoes and stuff for farming and munitions grade weapons, we'll keep to bronze for fancy weapons and important stuff,' and muddled on that way for some (centuries!? I think) before realising that the reason the iron from the other guys was better was because their bag bellows furnaces were shittier and lower temperature and so were not getting hot enough to melt the ore completely and produce liquid carburised cast iron, but instead were getting 1100-1200 degree ish reducing conditions that were barely liquefying the ore, stripping the oxygen off it with carbon monoxide, and a spongey mass of iron would grow in the molten silicate and iron slag bath at the base of the stack below the bellows nozzle. Which then had to be hammer wrought to weld it all together and squeeze the slag out to produce a workable wrought iron, and steel was a little understood thing that happened sometimes in smelting, but usually by cementation/case hardening, but was hit and miss. But iron was everywhere, so wrought iron for all and sometimes steel was better than bronze for some. So the Chinese had to work backwards to make lower efficiency furnaces to get useful sponge iron bloomery furnaces (still with box bellows, just not going as hard on the blast, and smaller). Roman bloomery furnaces, for example, sometimes got big enough to accidentally produce cast iron, and they'd throw it out as a waste product.

But the problem is that bloomery iron production, although giving a product that was a workable iron, made small lumps - kilos to tens of kilos at a time, and even at their largest, never really more than hundreds of kilos at a time, and each bloom a bit different, so hard to get uniform product, and nobody really understood how to get rid of things like phosphorus, so you get the 'Ok, iron from this region is ok for farm tools and wrought work and goes black and doesn't corrode, but is too brittle for cutting edges' (high phosphorus ore) and 'Ok, iron from that region is good for steel and doesn't get as brittle, use that for cutting edges and weapons' (low phosphorus ore, etc)

Now, lots of cultures kept, or started, as they got big bellows technologies, producing cast iron in blast furnaces, because large volumes of uniform quality cast iron is great for cheap tools, cookpots, and once you understand how to get the bubbles out of it, cannons, and also cos big bellows blast furnaces are also great for doing large volumes of copper alloy stuff for all your cupro alloy needs, but also self aggrandisment statues or Vatican Doors or again, Cannons. But we were all stuck with small batch bloomery stack furnaces to make workable wrought iron for steel until the 17th-18th century, maxing them out to as big as they'd go without making too much accidental cast iron. By the mid 18th century, I think, puddling techniques had turned up for slowly turning high carbon cast iron into workable low carbon iron - really awful job, standing with a long iron rake in front of an open blast hearth stirring a puddle of molten cast iron around to burn off enough carbon that a lump of malleable sponge iron began to form under your rake, which you could then turn into steels or wrought iron. Various versions of this process were independently developed. (There's some evidence that there were Chinese versions of malleable white cast iron developed back in the Han dynasty, and were used intermittently to the Tang dynasty, too).

But the modern blast process turned up from people like Bessemer, Kelly, Naysmith, etc, in Europe, UK and America, all around the 1840s, as multiple groups experimented with improving that awful (and worker health destroying) puddling furnace process, with different versions of blowing an air blast, oxygen blast etc, over, around or through your vessel of molten high carbon cast iron, to burn off just enough carbon to turn it into steel, but not so much that you burnt it all off and your useful alloying components too. That couple decades between the 1840s to 1860s solved the base problems of turning high carbon but large volume cast iron blast furnace product into useful steel and iron alloys to allow us to escape the small batch production bottleneck of the two and a half thousand year old bloomery process, which @iamthepulta has covered above.

But of course now we're cooking ourselves, so we need to shift as many of our necessary materials production and use processes to carbon neutral, or carbon negative. In the case of steel, while arc furnaces are now a mature technology for alloying and recycling, it's hard to get the carbon and oxygen intensive reactions out of iron smelting to produce your arc furnace feedstock, but it looks like hydrogen is the way to go: Fe2O3 + 3H2 = 2Fe + 3H2O. People have been fiddling with that reaction since the 1950s, but the problem is that it's endothermic, and wants 95.8 kJ/mol to run in the direction we like. So you have to put in A Lot of energy with your hydrogen, and that means you need to do this sort of hydrogen reduction of iron ores at locations of large availability of hydropower or other non fossil fuel electricity, and where you can store large volumes of electrolytically produced hydrogen (preferably in salt mine cavities). The HYBRIT process seems to be the people most successful, but the problem is that it's around 30% more expensive than even the most efficient carbon based iron reduction processes:

success, everybody, i thought about something other than vampires for like a twenty minute stretch. the something was: electric arc furnaces

about 7% of us coal consumption is metallurgical coal, which is used (after being coked) as fuel for blast furnaces. blast furnaces smelt ore and scrap metal, usually to make steel. most coal in the united states is used for the power grid & must be replaced with renewable sources, but it's a little more straightforward to see how that swap needs to go; we need better batteries & genuine investment, there are questions about where & how those renewable sources should be generated, & i do think that our power consumption needs to fall. it's less obvious how we might replace metallurgical coal, though, because we still need steel. electric arc furnaces are efficient, cheaper, smaller, and more capable of running variable loads than blast furnaces, but almost all of them are for the scrap metal -> steel process, they're not for iron ore -> iron -> steel. but we are getting better at making them! so i read through part of a DoE powerpoint & glowered at links to mckinsey reports about it. i don't know anything really about metals mining, mostly i've just read about coal & all of that from a labor safety perspective, but i'm very curious about the, like. engineering problems (and also still labor safety & environmental problems) presented by trying to genuinely transition away from coal, which we absolutely must do, like guys even UMWA is out here like 'we gotta stop pulling this shit out of the ground' [official position of union president cecil roberts is that coal miners & their communities need a 'just transition' away from coal]

[sandpapersnowman]

I had been worried that cutting my dad off and distancing myself from him would put me in a difficult position with his side of the family but I've actually reconnected with a couple family members over how shitty he's been and it turns out I'm not the first one to stop talking to him, he's been blocked by like two of my aunts And my cousin

[butchratchettruther]

I may or may not be compiling a chronological list of nearly every locomotive ever directly because of starlight express

[moe-broey]

Like how are you gonna be romance-repulsed while essentially functionally being a self-shipper. This IS a trick question but also it is undeniably an unfathomably stupid position to be in. And Yet

[kuromi-hoemie]

so like..

is the idea that as a compromise to only having to toggle off tumblr live once a month, you now have this permanent tumblr live icon regardless of ur setting choice stuck to the bottom in the middle of everything in the hopes that i click on it accidentally anyways even though it's clear i don't want it or? where is the NO 100% STOP GIVING ME THIS SHIT I DON'T ACCEPT YOUR POLICIES AND LITERALLY COULD NOT CARE LESS ABOUT TUMBLR LIVE AND WILL NEVER BE INTERESTED IN THIS TYPE OF FEATURE OR FORMAT.

@zingring @photomatt @humans idk how many feedback requests people have to cut tumblr for "no" to just be a valid response here. ppl aren't dumb and see u inching over the line trying to force this on them despite the snooze choice.

what, are there so many ppl snoozing and such a low adoption rate that you know you need to trick users into using it so you can "make number go up" or? 🙄

[my-mind-is-afk-rn]

Man thinking about old alters is kinda weird cause I'm sitting here like "oh I wonder what [x] would think of where I am now" and then I'm like. Oh wait, that's me. That's not some mystical spirit that was just in my life for 8 years of my childhood, that was a phase of mine that I had back in elementary/middle school, except I was having like 40 of them at once and they were all different, and now that we're fused together again, I remember every path of this life like it was the original, but at the same time I remember interactinf with... each other.. and..... now I just have like 40x the memories except I don't and.. uh... anyway what *would* [x] think of me now, well honestly i have NO idea because their life "ended" before I got a grasp of our sense of self... and that was the whole point of doing that..... and I keep forgetting that I was just... Like That for so long. Anyone get what I'm saying? (I need sleep)

[iguessitsjustme]

So you're telling me

that this man was able to pull these three ladies

at the same time and marry two of them and keep the other as a mistress?

That man? I've seen dirty socks on the sidewalk with more sex appeal.

[arolesbianism]

Mental health shit is kicking my ass but at least I have my silly guys