#bring back rescue

[secularprolifeconspectus]

My book Rebuilding Pro-Life Nonviolence has dropped!!!!

I wrote this with my mentor John Cavanaugh-O'Keefe. It's only $8 for print, $1.50 for Kindle!!

Purchase here on Amazon!!!

I am deeply curious what will stand out to folks, so once you have read it, send me an ask featuring your favorite quotes and passages!

[egophiliac]

heeey guess what, I'm obsessed with this idiot flamingo now

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Maedhros’ abdication is so funny because every feanorian was probably salivating over his return like oOOooOoh Nelyo’s back, oh yeah we got our King now you see what he’ll do to you Nolofinwe he’ll really put you in your place huh buddy, good old Nelyo’s not gonna stand for this disrespect he’ll show you the crown belongs with us. And then

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Feral stray at the rescue up for adoption

same stray 1 year after being adopted

[evilkitten3]

au where team hebi agrees that it's a bad idea to leave kabuto unsupervised.... so they drag him along. as the team mascot

[seagreenstardust]

When Katsuki Bakugo needed saving, Izuku came up with a plan where Todoroki, Iida, and Kirishima went rocketing across the sky to reach him.

When Izuku Midoriya needed saving, it was Katsuki, Todoroki, and Iida who went rocketing across the sky to reach him.

Both times, our Twin Stars decided to set their own needs aside and allow the other’s trusted friend to take the lead in bringing them home. Izuku knew Kirishima was the right choice to get Katsuki away from the league quickly and safely, and Katsuki knew Iida was the better man for the job of catching up to Izuku and bringing him back.

Can we please just take a moment to appreciate the parallels. Please.

[whatwooshkai]

URM checks notes NUMBER NINETEEN

"Oh." Chase stops walking, doorwings springing to attention. "I didn't realize we'd gone this far."

Blades turns around as soon as he realizes Chase has stopped, and jogs back over to meet him. "Wassup?" he asks around the silica wafers he's crunching on.

Chase frowns and takes a step away so he doesn't get any crumbs on him. "Don't talk while you're eating," he reflexively chastises, before gazing back up at the building he'd stopped in front of. "I just... I used to live here."

"Here?" Blades swallows and narrows his optics incredulously at the industrial building. It's not much of a home, gray and imposing with very few windows, but then again, the buildings like this scattered through the city were all he knew up until recently.

It's as home as he'll ever get, he supposes. But home is a place you're supposed to be able to return to, right?

"Well, that makes two of us," Blades says nonchalantly. "We didn't have any windows, though."

Chase turns to face him very slowly. Blades is usually so tight-lipped about his past, they all know next to nothing about his life before the academy. But he's opening up... because Chase is?

Oh, yes, that makes sense. Heatwave likes to do this too, right? Trading secrets. Tell me about you, and I'll tell you about me.

Chase can play this game.

"This was the last one," he continues softly, doorwings dropping a little, reflexively measuring the air currents around them. "Where I failed my final exams. I grew up in several facilities just like this around Iacon."

"Oh." Blades has one hand hovering, like he wants to touch Chase but isn't sure if he should. "How'd you fail?"

Blades isn't playing the game correctly. He's pushing further before he's giving back. Chase looks up at the building again, and suddenly feels a deep and oppressive longing for his batch.

But they're not in this building. They've moved on to a precinct by now, and likely have their own apartment or apartments. They're living their lives now. They're not here.

"I did well on my written exams," Chase says, mostly to distract himself. "But I kept failing my practical exams."

"How?"

Blades isn't playing right. This isn't fair, Chase is giving far too much and Blades is giving too little.

Chase stares at the building a little more, and feels an odd emotion swirling in his tanks. He's... angry?

He's angry. At this stupid building, at Ultra Magnus, at the enforcers, at Blades for asking questions.

"They said I was too strict on the law," Chase murmurs. His wings snap out when Blades steps closer, and thankfully he gets the message and keeps his distance.

"Well, I mean, I guess that's a little fair," Blades says, and Chase's finials pin back. "You have to make the punishment fit the crime. If something's unusually harsh-"

"No one should get away with any crime," Chase growls. "I agree, there is nuance to situation, but you have to penalize mechs." His wings ruffle.

Being angry is uncomfortable. It simmers under his plating and demands all his attention. He squeezes his hands into fists. "Including those in the administration. They kept asking questions, about what if it affected our jobs, or the way society works, or if it endangered those in power would it even be worth it?" Chase squeezes his optics shut, letting out a harsh vent and hoping the crawling feeling of needing to do something leaves with the air. "I was upset with the curriculum, so I tried to uncover the source."

"Oh." Blades' tone has turned dark, his field curious, and also frustrated. But he's doing something odd with it, as if trying to communicate that the anger is not focused on Chase. It isn't quite clear, but he appreciates it regardless. "Is that why they failed you?"

"No." Chase looks back up at the building. "They gave me one more chance after finding me looking into... them. But I was never allowed to be alone after that. But, my final exam..."

Chase shutters his optics again. Backtalking is not an enforcer trait! the voice of one of his instructors screams in his audials. You're nothing but an insolent little brat who thinks you're better than the rest of us-

"Chase?"

Chase vents harshly and shoves the memories away. Talking about it is good, right? Besides, it's all over.

They can't touch him now.

"I'm okay." Chase turns back to Blades. "They simulated someone breaking into the building and attacking us without telling us what was happening." He vents harshly again. "I thought he was going to kill my batchmates. He had taken a few down, and a vibroknife to one's neck, and it was just me pointing my gun at him.

"They were shouting at me to kill him." Chase blindly reaches out and Blades grabs his hand, squeezing it tight. "I tried to shoot his knee, incapacitate him so he could face justice. But... the gun was empty. They gave me an empty gun. And they were not happy with me."

Cohort above all else! the voice screams in his helm. You should NEVER risk your cohort for justice. If they threaten a life, take theirs.

But-

But NOTHING. This was your last chance. When push comes to shove, you've proven you're WEAK.

The enforcers do not tolerate weakness.

"Oh." Blades says. "And now you're here."

"I don't understand," Chase growls. "What I did was perfectly acceptable, even in regards to the curriculum-"

"Oh, Chase," Blades says, soft and almost mournful. Chase falls silent. "I think they just wanted you to follow orders."

"Oh."

Why can't you just follow orders?

"I don't want to keep talking about this," Chase says suddenly, pulling away from Blades.

"Yeah, of course," Blades says softly. "Let's go back."

"Right."

They've just started walking when an achingly familiar voice reaches Chase's audials. "Chase! Chase, is that you?"

Blades' optics narrow. "Is he one of your-"

"No. Just a friend." Chase takes a deep vent, steels his field into a neutral state, and turns to face the approaching mech.

Smokescreen scoops Chase up into a hug that's just a little too tight. "How're you doing, buddy?" he asks, cupping Chase's face. "Oh man, it's been too long! I heard you got shifted to the Rescue Bots, but man, I didn't think they'd put you through the works like this. I mean, the optics are cool, but they aren't, well, you."

"It is nice to see you too, Smokescreen," Chase murmurs, fluttering his wings to return the greeting Smokescreen's are flapping. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing great!" Smokescreen's wings flutters excitedly, and he moves his hands from Chase's face to his shoulders. "Your batch is doing good too, they're great kids." His face pulls into a frown. "I know the policies and you can't talk to them. But I thought you might like to know."

"Yes, that is... nice to hear." Chase's frame might be overheating.

"Oh, but who's this?" Smokescreen asks, gesturing to Blades with a wing.

"Blades," Blades introduces himself. He doesn't offer a hand, and has begun crunching on his silica wafers again. "A friend."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Smokescreen lets go of Chase and starts tapping on his comm. "Prowl's a few blocks over, I gotta tell him you're here! He'd love to see you!"

Chase's tanks drop to his pedes. "That really isn't necessary-"

"He's on his way." Smokescreen tucks his comm away and turns back to Chase with another grin. "But you're making friends! I'm real proud of you, kiddo," he admonishes, petting between his finials.

Blades is watching the two of them, tensed, like he's ready to fight at a moment's notice. Not for the first time, Chase wonders if he carries weapons.

Tires squeal as an enforcer rounds the corner, before transforming with a bounce and landing right in front of them. Prowl's face doesn't match his driving, nor his field, flitting with carefully contained excitement. "Chase," he says, with a soft and professional smile, "it's good to see you."

"It is good to see you too," Chase says, accepting and clasping Prowl's outstretched hands.

Prowl's gaze drifts behind Chase, and his optics widen a modicum. He's shocked. "Oh," he says. "Hello."

Blades field is tucked tight to his frame, but his rotors are flared in a clear show of hostility. Both Smokescreen and Prowl's wings drop into a position of do-not-worry-I-am-not-a-threat.

"Do you know him?" Chase asks Blades, now almost worrying about potential weapons on Blades' frame.

Blades doesn't answer. "We have met," Prowl says vaguely. "I am glad to see you are doing well."

Blades' rotors hike up higher. .:We should go. Now:.

.:Only if you tell me why:. Chase challenges. It's only fair, he thinks.

"We should probably go," Smokescreen says, but whether it's for a legitimate reason or he can sense the tension in the air is unclear. "We can't be seen slacking off."

He pushes past Prowl to rub his chevron to the crest of Chase's helm. "Keep out of trouble, alright? And don't be a stranger! They never said you couldn't talk to us."

"Of course," Chase says, letting Prowl rub his chevron against him next. He's pinged twice not a moment later.

Blades tugs insistently at a wing, which Chase flicks out of his grip. He turns to face him, wings flaring up in anger. "Why-"

"Alright, stay safe!" With another quick hug from Smokescreen, the two enforcers speed off together.

"Ugh, finally," Blades growls. "Let's go."

"I don't understand what your problem is," Chase says, flicking his wing to try and get rid of the phantom sensation of a hand on it. "And do not touch my wings ever again."

"Noted," Blades says. "Sorry. I didn't mean- I just wanted to get out of there."

"Why?"

"Because... they let one of them practice questioning with me," Blades says softly. "Regarding my brothers' murders. I'm sure he's nice, but..."

Chase patiently waits for Blades to continue, but he trails off into silence.

It's nothing compared to what Chase told him, but it's something. Brothers, interrogations, murder?

Chase doesn't like not knowing. But Blades likes not telling. So here they are, at a standstill.

"Okay," Chase says softly. He reaches for Blades' hand, and the helicopter takes it.

They walk home in silence.

[yesterdayiwrote]

Trick or treat gewis edition pls?🧡

This is part of a (currently) abandoned WIP, and so I will reward you with a longish (albeit unbeta'd and unedited) excerpt under the cut...

This was my Tour Manager George/Music Superstar Lewis AU...

Waking up with a headache was never a great start to the day.

Waking up with a headache naked was always an even worse way to start the day.

George clutched his forehead tightly, pressing his face deeper into the soft pillow and willing the dull throb behind his eyes to dissipate sooner rather than later.

He groaned softly, the room filling with the distant sounds of honking horns, revving engines and rush hour traffic, his mind racing faster as he contemplated waking up and facing reality.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and George groped around blindly, cursing under his breath as a discarded bottle of Dom Perignon rolled onto the carpet, luckily already drained of its contents. He peered at the screen, hundreds of notifications paling into insignificance as he read the latest text from his boss, reminding him of their meeting scheduled later that day.

George rolled onto his back, finally taking in the sight of the room around him, snapshots of the previous night flooding back to him, leaving him with an impending sense of dread as his memories assembled into a somewhat more lucid sequence of events.

He sat up slowly, rubbing roughly at his eyes with his fingertips, letting out a soft groan as he confirmed his worst fears.

The Presidential Suite of the Central Park Ritz Carlton looked like a crime had been committed within it, ransacked in the midst of some kind of smash and grab robbery gone wrong. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, in a Hansel and Gretel-esque breadcrumb trail from the door to the bed. One set noticeably more expensive looking than the other.

A half drunk bottle of Grey Goose stood on the coffee table beside two shot glasses, one tipped over, spilling liquid across the glass tabletop. Three more bottles of champagne sat unopened and amongst them all stood four shining Grammy Awards. A sign of victory and success and the culmination of years of hard work. It had been worth celebrating.

If only it had been his name on them.

XNDA was at the top of his game right now, finally reaping the rewards of hours of blood, sweat and quite literally tears. Weeks away from home and loved ones on the promotional trail, long nights in recording studios and on video shoots, smiling through the lows to ensure every interview was his best. When he'd stood on stage at Madison Square Gardens the previous night, glowing under the lights as he accepted the Album of The Year award for his debut album +44 (along with Best New Artist, Best Progressive R&B Album and Best R&B Performance ), finally accepted and validated by his peers, George couldn't have felt prouder.

He'd never set out to be a personal assistant, but his organisational skills and his eye for detail had made it a perfect fit for him. It never felt like a chore, instead he felt privileged to be part of the inner circle. In awe of the other man's abilities, but an integral cog in the machine making sure everyone else got to appreciate them too.

To him he wasn't XNDA, global music superstar and icon in the making. To him he was just Lewis. They were friends but more than that they were a team. A deep, complex understanding of each other that had been borne of hours on the road in enforced company. Learning to work together but also learning how to support each other. They had boundaries, although George was somewhat concerned that what had transpired after Lewis invited him into his hotel room to celebrate and delivered a sweet, heartfelt and maybe somewhat tipsy thank you speech to him, had maybe crossed those. He hoped not irreversibly.

George slid slowly from between the soft sheets, rolling his neck and relishing in the soft click. He felt a scratching sensation across his stomach, glancing down in confusion. A tut of disgust escaped his lips as he peeled a torn condom foil from his abdomen, his skin still sticky with dried champagne and, he was sure, "other residue".

He padded softly across the floor, scooping up his discarded boxers from where they were hooked across the back of the armchair, unable to hide his smirk as a vignette of the previous night reappeared in his mind. Deep in the throes of...passion? Lust? Ill-advised drunken stupor? He wasn't quite sure which yet, but the gorgeous sight of Central Park and New York at night had served as a beautiful backdrop that even his hangover couldn't quell the memory of.

George collected his other remaining clothes, balling them up into his arms as he tiptoed across to the bathroom, stepping over at least two used condoms on his way. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at the bed and sighed, taking in one last look at Lewis still sleeping peacefully in the sheets and knowing that when he came back out, last night had to be consigned to history and it was back to reality.

It had to be. For his sanity at least.

He locked the bathroom door behind himself and groaned, dropping his clothes down on the tiled floor, resisting the urge to drop down and join them. The shower cubicle on the other side of the room was ridiculously large, in keeping with the rest of the room, and he fiddled with the water taps, trying to get the temperature just right.

He caught sight of himself in the large mirror, his hips mottled with the soft bruise of fingertips. His collarbone littered with the purple mark of hickeys. He was pretty sure he had a turtle neck in his suitcase, provided he could get to it without anyone seeing.

The shower had done nothing to ease his mind, seemingly incapable of slowing the racing thoughts through his brain or of banishing them entirely. The dull throb in his forehead persisted and he wasn't sure anymore if it was a hangover or just the sheer amount of over thinking his brain was doing.

As he pulled the previous night's clothes back on, the soft wrap on knuckles against the door broke him from his procrastination.

"George?" Lewis' voice was soft, laced with an evident concern. "Are you in there?"

George swallowed down a smirk. Any other day he'd have shot back with a sarcastic jibe, but right now it didn't seem the time. He fumbled with the lock and pulled the door back, plastering on a smile.

"Hey," He croaked, the sight of Lewis in his boxers suddenly far more distracting than he'd realised previously. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and began tapping on the screen, bringing up the day's itinerary. "You'll be happy to hear I planned ahead for you winning." He announced, his smile widening as he walked back into the room. "We have a late start. Nothing planned until 1. Toto's in town as well and wants to meet up so I booked Carbone. You have the interview for radio at 3 and then we fly back to London at 7 but need to be at the airport by 5."

"George."

Lewis' tone had changed, more stern than before. George turned back to face him.

"We need to talk about last night." The older man sighed, stepping across the room but leaving a noticeable gap between them.

"Do we?" George mumbled, dropping his arms to his sides, his feet suddenly becoming incredibly interesting. Lewis tutted, sinking down onto the end of the bed.

"Yes." He insisted firmly, seemingly undeterred about having this conversation dressed only in a tight pair of black Calvin Kleins. "Neither of us were exactly sober last night and I don't want to think I overstepped or..." He tailed off, twiddling his fingers together. "I need to know that I didn't..."

George suddenly realised what he was getting at.

"Oh... bloody hell... Lewis, no." He muttered, stepping closer and closing the gap, the words rushing out of his mouth in his haste to diffuse any misunderstanding. "I'm totally fine with everything that happened last night. You have nothing to worry about." He mumbled, his lips pulling into an awkward smile. "I had fun."

It felt dangerous to admit the full extent of how much he'd enjoyed it. It felt like career suicide to admit he'd maybe even... wanted it? He still couldn't process quite where those thoughts had come from

Lewis glanced up at him with a nod, his lips slowly pulling into a matching devious smile. "Yeah, I did too." He swallowed heavily. "I don't think we should do it again though." He added frankly.

"Oh god no. Definitely not." George agreed with a nervous chuckle, happy to agree to whatever scenario would make things the least awkward. Just two friends doing something dumb together. No complications.

"Okay, well... that's good." Lewis nodded, rising to his feet and grabbing a towel from the sideboard and making towards the bathroom. He stopped suddenly, turning back. "Oh, before I forget." He bit his bottom lip. "I'm really sorry to do this, but I'm going to need you to sign that." He sighed, gesturing towards the desk, a piece of paper laid out with a pen placed neatly on top.

George stepped towards it, his heart sinking as he saw what it was, recognising it instantly. An NDA. He'd stood by enough times as he'd watched other people sign them. He'd smiled awkwardly at all manner of people, trying to hide his own discomfort as they'd signed it all away for just one night with Lewis. He'd just never figured he might be one of those people himself.

"Yeah, sure." He mumbled, waving a dismissive hand in the air. He wanted to seem as cool about the whole thing as possible. "I'll sort it out."

Maybe it was going to be awkward after all.

[kainebell]

greatest brother in the world vs sopping wet pathetic baby of the family

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Pro-Life Rescue & Direct Action: The Importance of Invading Abortion Clinics

Non-Violent Direct Action is Proven Effective

From Ghandi’s Indian Independence Movement to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Civil Rights Movement, to Serbia’s student-led resistance Otpor! and more, two things are consistently linked with the success of movements: a commitment to non-violence and the necessity of risking arrest. That’s because only when people are willing to take risks and make sacrifices, can the institutional power of an oppressor be challenged and delegitimized. Seeing other people getting directly involved in a movement motivates participation. There is a science to non-violent struggle and social revolution that has been documented by political researchers such as Gene Sharpe. From privileged people interposing their bodies between Black protesters and the police who brutalize them during the Black Lives Matter movement, to tenant networks mobilizing to blockade around the homes of vulnerable neighbors at risk of eviction by their landlords, leftists have proven these tactics save lives and advance change. If we want to see success in the anti-abortion movement, then we must follow proven social science.

Rescue is Necessary to Dismantle Big Abortion

Because we will never outspend the abortion industrial complex, the only way we can win is with people power. Abortion rescue disrupts the progress of abortion violence and applies pressure to those complicit. It viscerally agitates the public to reckon with abortion's violence. It reduces violence on the fringes of the pro-life movement by providing a non-violent outlet of expression for frustrated individuals. Non-violent abortion rescue interrupts injustice against prenatal people without unjust action and disarms the abortion providers without harming them. Parents seeking abortion as a solution to an unwanted or crisis pregnancy have bought into the lies of Big Abortion, and rescue unsettles that narrative. Rescuers hope to save not only the child, but also their mothers, families, and communities. Rescue is intervention intended to free even the abortion workers from the cycle of abortion violence. During the era of the late 80’s and early 90’s, it’s estimated that 60% of mothers with appointments for abortions on the day of a rescue never rescheduled.

Rescues Challenge Unjust Laws

We can’t let the reality that the law is on the side of the oppressors dictate what we ought to do. Our goal is to change that reality, not to live with it! Opposition to rescue implicitly affirms that the choice to kill is permissible. We have no ethical obligation to follow unjust laws; in fact, we may challenge unjust laws with civil disobedience. We must use our bodies as shields to stop the main aggressors of abortion from hurting the babies because law enforcement upholds the violent status quo of the state. When a rescuer is sentenced to jail, it is an opportunity for non-rescuers to hold the entire legal system accountable each day for the murder it protects until it is as safe and legal to protect children as it is now safe and legal to kill them.

Rescuers Save Lives in Prisons

If you are pregnant and incarcerated, you are the forgotten of the forgotten. Pregnant prisoners are either pressured into abortion, mistreated into a miscarriage, or forced to suffer a dehumanizing birthing experience, and predatory adoption agencies lie in wait to take and profit from their babies. Pro-Life activists imprisoned for rescue are presented the unique opportunity to advocate for better conditions for pregnant prisoners, to defend the lives of their unborn children, to organize support for their families from the outside world, and to serve grieving post-abortive women behind bars. Even incarcerated women deserve better than abortion. Thus abortion rescuers continue to rescue even while in prison.

Rescues Affirm the Equality of the Preborn

By taking the risk to rescue, you practice solidarity with the preborn and parents who believe abortion is their only option. You have the power as a privileged born person to put your body between the powerless and their oppressors, between an abortion provider and a helpless child. How do we show the world that fetuses are the same as us when we are nothing like them? The answer is simple: we make ourselves more like them. When rescuers stand in solidarity with the preborn, they become as vulnerable as the preborn are. If we say that a woman needs to sacrifice her lifestyle, relationship, body, and future for her unborn child, then we are hypocrites if we’re not willing to do the same. When we rescue, we are willing to sacrifice the same to prison for her child, ergo rescue is solidarity with moms too. Some people will never affirm the humanity of the preborn. It’s our job to do so by being physically intolerant of abortion through rescue.

Rescue is a Direct Act of Love

The preborn deserve to have someone show up for them. An attempt to rescue a preborn child may be the only act of love they ever receive before they are murdered. They have no one else as they are taken legally to their deaths. The success of a rescue is not determined by how many babies were saved that day; it's determined by how many babies were loved. If you were facing death, wouldn’t you want someone who loves you to stand physically with you to the last possible second as well? Your presence in their moment of suffering matters. The preborn deserve to have someone witness them as full people at least once in their life.

If Abortion is Murder, then Act Like It

Do your actions reflect the reality that the preborn are people equal to ourselves? Rescue fully expresses what it means to understand that the preborn have the same humanity as us. Our sacrifice forces others to see the humanity of the preborn, because if they aren’t people, why would we risk jail and potentially worse for them? If the preborn have the right to life, then we have a responsibility to make sure their right is respected. Rescue offers a final tangible act of love to a child as they are being taken away to be exterminated. If you KNOW the preborn are people and abortion is murder, then ACT LIKE IT!

How to Support Rescue

Not every pro-life person can be an abortion rescuer. Factors like finances, family, disability, and racialized police brutality prevent many folks who support rescue from feeling confident in participating. Luckily, there are many ways the pro-life community as a whole can participate in rescue without being a rescuer!

Sponsor a rescuer financially. If you can't rescue, donate to a rescuer who will do it for you! As rescuer Herb Geraghty said, "let us be your hands and feet". Offer monetary and emotional support to the families of rescuers.

Do jail support. Demonstrate in front of police stations, courts, jails, and prisons that are holding rescuers. Write to the rescuers frequently. If you are on a legal team, offer your local rescuers pro-bono defense.

Share rescue stories on your social media in a positive light. Comment on news stories that frame rescue badly. Make videos about rescue and why you support it.

Do culture jamming around clinics frequented by rescuers. Make posters and wheatpaste them to sidewalks, sharpie pro-life messages to the backs of signs, put rescue stickers on the alley walls around the clinic.

Help organize the rescues. Do research about the clinics for the rescuers. Keep the rescuers updated about police scanners while they perform a rescue. Coordinate supplies, donations, first-aid, and legal defense. Be there with food before and after rescue.

Learn More

Quotes About Abortion Rescues Rescue and Police Violence The Rescue Movement (Documentary) The Brutal Truth Dragonslayers Defenders of the Unborn Wrath of Angels Shattering the Darkness All the Rescues Essential Roles in Social Movements Types of Abortion Rescue Historic Abortion Rescues Media Bias Against Abortion Rescue Joan Andrews

[aeolianblues]

if you think you’re having a bad day, I just spent 4:00-5:10 AM in queue for Oasis tickets, was only 900th in the queue, was able to make my selection, proceeded to checkout with two floor tickets, entered my details and almost had them processed all the way only for ticketmaster to refuse to process a Canadian card and continue to throw me out five more times before returning me to the queue of 300,000 people. I was 900th. I had those tickets.

28 August Downsview Park better fucking be real or I’m going to cry

[superfluffychickens]

A reminder that I have the cutest and best dog ever!

I want to train her a bit more this year - she’s gotten really good at ignoring the chickens, coming when called, she’s great at “leave it” and pretty good at “wait,” and can ever kinda play “fetch” now, but I’d like to get her to walk better on a leash in public. She just gets excited so easily and that makes her distracted and she pulls. Dog training is hard, you have to be really consistent which I personally struggle with, but it’s amazing to see how much Treasure’s learned already. She only knew “sit” when I first got her! She’s the kind of dog who’s just so eager to please, so she’s a quick learner - it’s really me who struggles, haha! But she’s just such a wonderful friend, she goes everywhere with me and she’s always happy, she’s my perfect girl and my instant serotonin boost!

[twilightkitkat]

YALL hear me out poolverine alien stage au (if you don't know what it is you should check it out it's a series of animated videos on youtube) where they're like ivantill. For those of you who haven't seen it, the gist is that aliens took over the world and enslaved humans as pets and now force them into singing competitions where the loser dies.

Logan was adopted from the streets by Charles Xavier, an alien hybrid who was much kinder and ran an orphanage for human children. He and the X-men have to participate in Alien Stage, so go to Anakt Garden to socialize and train as kids.

On the other hand, Wade is adopted by a piece of shit owner and gets thrown into Anakt Garden to train. There, he meets Vanessa (who serves a similar role to Mizi) and falls in love with her and idolizes her. He's like Till in the fact that he misbehaves and fights back against the aliens there, which leads to him getting tortured and treated as a threat.

Meanwhile, Logan plays a similar role to Ivan. He's favored by his owner in this sort of transactional business relationship and he's very talented so he gets preferential treatment. He meets Wade and watches him fight back against the captors and becomes infatuated with him. He goes out of his way to interact with him and get into fights to get his attention (and to impede on his time with Vanessa) and uses his special treatment and knowledge to go help Wade when he's being restrained or punished.

But Wade's always drawn to Vanessa. Except, without a "Sua" character for the "Mizi" role, Vanessa likes him back. Despite them spending time together, Logan and Wade have this love-hate relationship where Logan goes to pester Wade and they end up hanging out and becoming sort of friends.

Until the X-men plan an escape, because that's what Charles secretly wanted them to do. Logan grabs Wade at night and drags him along because he wants Wade to escape too. But Wade can't leave without Vanessa, who's too content in Anakt Garden to leave. He doesn't want to put her in danger.

Logan is conflicted about leaving with the X-men or going back with Wade... except he doesn't get to choose. Because the X-men are found and killed by the time he catches up to them. And he's forced to return, traumatized and alone.

He blames himself for letting them go. For not being able to protect them, even if he knew he couldn't do much against the aliens. (Privately, he realizes that Wade saved his life. That without Wade, he would've been up there with them and died. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or angry.)

And so Logan falls into a depression and the only person he's close to is Wade. He starts bothering him more and intruding on his space to get attention, and Wade begins warming up to him but still has Vanessa.

Until the actual game begins. In the first round, Wade has to go up against Vanessa. They sing together, letting themselves relish their final duet, before the results come in. Vanessa lost. She gets shot in front of Wade, who falls to his knees and fights against his restraints and nearly loses it.

He's a husk of himself even as Logan tries to get any kind of reaction out of him. Eventually, their round comes up. And they're forced to fight each other for survival.

Logan notices that Wade stopped singing halfway through the performance. He'd given up. If this kept going, he would lose. And so here comes their rendition of the infamous ivantill kiss scene: Logan yanks Wade into a searing kiss, showing his true feelings and shocking Wade, who doesn't know what to do.

Logan puts his hands around Wade's neck and squeezes, strangling him. Wade closes his eyes, content to die. ...Except, Logan loosens up at the last second. Lets go. And Wade stares in horror as Logan gets shot at, blood pouring down his mouth as he gives Wade a final crooked grin. He'd purposely broken the rules and "hurt" Wade so that he'd be disqualified and lose. So that Wade could go on.

Wade stares in numb horror for the second time as someone he loves collapses in a pile of blood in front of him.

[godsfavoritescientist]

you ever think about how bill is who the pines could have been if they didn't have any kind of support from anyone in their lives

[natelia-aldelliz]

Ghost gifts a single tiny ear loop to Soap one day. Says he noticed Soap had pierced ears. That rings keep from handling a gun or a knife properly. He doesn't make eye contact, tries to hide his face, even as he's already wearing his balaclava.

Soap blinks. Ghost has already given him gifts and only behaved that way for the very first one. He doesn't understand. The earring is very simple, but seems to be made of expensive material and not only covered with a thin leaf of gold.

"Didnae it come with another one?" he says, jokingly.

But Ghost flushes, turns his head, and lifts his mask, only enough for Soap to see the glinting of the other earring on his ear. Suddenly he understands that it's not simply a gift. Ghost favoured practicality, but he wanted to give him a ring.

He grabs his hand as it falls back down.

"Simon, what is this?" he asks softly, not daring to be hopeful just yet.

With his other hand, he reaches out to gently turn Simon's head back towards him. His cheeks and his nose are flushed, it makes the warmth of his dark eyes, generally hidden behind a sneer or a bored expression, undeniable.

He looks nervous. Johnny's heart is beating faster. Could it really be...?

"I know", Simon starts then pauses, uncertain. "I know I'm probably not what you thought you'd have, when you were younger" Soap wants to interrupt, to scoff, to protest that Simon is way better than anyone he could have hoped for, but doesn't. He never wants to cut off his love when he's barely starting to open up.

"I know that I'm not easy to be with some days, that I'm not friendly and easy going like you, like someone you'd deserved to be with." he continues, unconsciously pushing his face more into Soap's hand. "But... I love you, more than I thought I could, and I'd like... I'd like to be with you, for as long as you'd have me..."

Johnny's heart is soaring. He has no idea how to react. He'd have to get all the giddiness out first, and the moment doesn't seem appropriate for jumping around and squealing.

"Officially," Simon continues, voice quieter, out of breath. "If you want to."

A gigantic grin splits Johnny's face. All of his limbs are buzzing, he needs to stand up, to run, to explode something. But he's terrified to spook Simon so instead he just squeezes the hand he's holding rhythmically and moves his feet back and forth.

"Baby, are ye asking me tae marry ye?" Johnny says. He's pretty sure his voice is wobbly, but can't really hear it himself as the blood in his ears is louder than the rest.

Simon's eyes do something, what is visible of his face looks like he has an expression on but Johnny can't analyze it now, doesn't dare to see the hope in his eyes, the pleading in his brows.

"I... Yes, I guess I am," the love of his life says finally. "If you want to. You don't have to."

Soap can't keep himself in check any longer. He's making a high pitched noise, jumping up and down where he's seating on the bed, and throws himself at Simon.

"Of course ah fooking want tae!!!"

Simon lets out an excited giggle, swept in Johnny's mood, and tightens his arms around his lover. No, his fiancé.

This is the best day of his life. He just has to deal with this mission tomorrow, and then they can start to plan everything.

[phatcatphergus]

Fred arc end prediction: tubbo finds Fred and explains how he tried to enact psychological warfare on quackity before getting sent to hell and then becoming a father the second he got back and Fred (who is very new to the concept of emotions in the first place) is so overwhelmed by the idea of his crush being hurt as well as the idea of possibly being a father and the stress that brings that he has a stroke and dies.