#but it does not look like an effective solution to the problem!!

[regenderate]

sorry not to be Like That but the "yuri olympics" event looks so badly run 💀

[bombsonboard]

metal arm brrr

Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)

A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.

*****

“Can you stop moving, please?” 

Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed. 

When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep. 

You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.

Nope, can’t do it. You shift again. 

“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”

With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.

He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.

“I swear if you say-”

“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation. 

“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”

“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm. 

“...If you could?”

“Seriously, fuck you.” 

Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?

“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.” 

Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away. 

In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad. 

With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist. 

You slept like a lamb after that.

*****

When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other. 

Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.

“The fuck is this?”

You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter. 

“A solution?” You shrug.

“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”

“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.

“You’re a fucking menace.” 

The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.

Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.

Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm. 

“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head. 

You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-

“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.

When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.

“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender. 

“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede

“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”

He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.

It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back. 

“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.

Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:

“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”

[iluvmattsbeard]

replace him (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: very heavy smut and strong language

preview: Chris was over you constantly running to him for help with your shitty boyfriend. so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

a/n: listen to song for full effect! trust me, it's worth it.

Chris' POV

i was laying down in bed scrolling through instagram as I see a text notification pop up. it was y/n. I roll my eyes as I read the text.

y/n

i'm so tired of him

i sigh to myself. she was always coming to me for help. her boyfriend constantly treats her like shit. sometimes I didn't even know what to say back. she was always texting about stupid shit he says. I really didn't understand why she stayed with him. I laid there for a bit with my eyes staying still on the text.

Chris

what he do now?

i see a text bubble pop up right away and it stays that way for a while. I guess since it's her first real relationship, if you even consider it that, I understood the attachment she had.

y/n

i'll tell you in person. you think you could come over?

i was confused by the short text since she was typing for so long.

Chris

sure. only because i'm a good friend. be there in 20.

i sigh getting out of bed, heading to my closet to put on a black hoodie and some dark washed jeans. I was sort of dreading it. as much as I cared for her, sometimes I just wanted to tell her to stop talking about him. obviously i can't say that. all I could do was stay supportive.

after a bit, I finally finish and head to Matt asking him for a ride. y/n didn't live that far.

"she's having problems again?" Matt asks getting up grabbing his keys, putting on his shoes. I sigh responding, "obviously. what do I even do?" he just chuckles as he says, "well just listen I guess." I nod as I slip on my shoes as well.

we get in the car and we head to her apartment. the sun was barely going down.

End of Chris' POV

time passes as Chris finally arrives knocking on your door. you open the door after a bit, with puffy eyes. he looks at you as he tenses up. he hated seeing you like this. Chris walks in as he embraces you with a hug. you hug back as you both just stand there in silence. he rubs your back softly. "lets go sit down and talk." he says pulling away. you nod as you walk over to the couch, him following behind.

you both sit down as you sniffle a bit. all he could do was stare at you waiting for you to speak. "he lied to me about where he was. he said he was going to grab lunch with his friends but I saw his location at some random house I haven't seen before." you pause for a bit, "I confronted him about it but he just got defensive. I have every right to be angry right?" Chris just nods. you cover your face as you sigh. "I gave him everything I could. he doesn't realize all I put up with." you say. you continue to rant as he just stays silent. Chris was frustrated listening to you complain over and over again about the same shit.

"and he-" you were interrupted by Chris clearing his throat. "y/n. this is getting ridiculous. how many times do I have to sit here listening to the same shit?" you were taken a back from his response. "all he does is treat you with no respect. do you really think I want to hear about it all the time? there's a simple solution to all of this." you stay silent with a blank look. he stays silent as he waits for a response. your phone rings. it was your boyfriend. you both look at the notification. you were going to reach for your phone, but Chris picks it up before you could. "hey-" you say to him but you stay silent in shock with what he does next. he answers the call.

"hello? y/n?" your boyfriend, Zach, speaks. "look Zach. all you do is make her upset. so do me a favor, don't call again." Chris says hanging up, throwing your phone to the other side of the couch. you sit there in shock. "why would you do that?" you exclaim. "he's still my boyfriend." Chris scoffs. "look at my face y/n. does it look like I give a fuck?" he says with a serious tone. "I know what you want y/n. it's for sure not him." he says shaking his head. "Chris, this is my relationship." you say. "I know it is. yet you bring me in between to constantly pick you up. so if you want me here, stop bringing him up. stop talking unless it's about us."

you have a confused look on your face. "us?" you ask. he lets out a fake chuckle before speaking, "yeah us. I know you're with him but, let me ask you something." he says getting up. "why stay with him, when you got me to replace him?" your eyes widen at the question. "I mean i'm constantly here for you. clearly, he's not." he continues. he walks over to you as he looks into your eyes with that same serious face. you sit up straight as you keep the eye contact. "I don't know what you want me to say. i'm still with Zach." you respond. he clenches his jaw as he lets out a scoff. "again. does it look like I give a fuck?" he says. all you could do was look down at your feet.

"you can stay with him. all I can do is just make things better." he says lifting your head up by your chin. making you look into his eyes. you swallow at his actions. "but I don't trust him." he says. he puts his hand on your cheek as he rubs it softly. "let me make you forget him." again, your eyes widen at the statement. next thing you know, he grabs your hand, making you get up. "do you want that?" he asks. you hesitate before nodding slowly.

he gives a sly smile as he turns you around, bending you over onto the couch. "he won't give you what I got for you right now." he says putting his hands on your shoulders, as he slides them down the side of your body slowly. you stayed silent, giving into the moment. your breathing was a bit uneven as you felt his touch. he then uses his hand to move your hair to one side. he leans in behind you, leaving kisses on your neck softly. "is this okay?" he whispers in your ear. you gulp as you say quietly, "yes". he then stands back up straight as he takes off his hoodie, a long with his shirt. "good". he responds taking in the sight of you in front of him.

he then pulls down your pajama pants slowly. leaving them hang at your ankles. he leans down grabbing your ass, leaving soft wet kisses on it. "perfect". he says. he then leans in behind you as he grabs your face making you look at him. he grips your face kissing you hungrily. you kiss back eagerly. you knew Zach never kissed you like this. as you continue kissing, he moves his hand down to your neck gripping it, still kissing you. you felt your hot core get wet. you never expected to be in this position. yeah, you were with Zach. but Chris was living up to his words. Zach left your mind. all you could think now was how badly you needed Chris. you hear your phone ringing. you wanted to pull away and look but he grips onto you harder. "no phones." he sternly says.

he gets off you, starting to unbutton his pants. it was very evident how hard you got him. just by looking at you, bent over in front of him. he lets his pants drop below him, hanging at his ankles. he then pulls your black panties down. his eyes were filled with lust and admiration. he groans quietly taking it in. "so beautiful". he says.

he licks his lips as he pulls down his boxers taking his dick into his hand. he strokes himself as he gets closer to you. he takes his tip and rubs it at your entrance, teasing you. you move slightly, wanting him to put it in already. he lets out a laugh, "be patient". he inserts his tip slowly taking it out shortly after. you whine at his movement. he smirks as he does it again, having you go crazy.

"Chris please..." you whine out quietly. "good to know you want it so badly." he responds. he then shoves his dick all the way into your wet core. you arch your back at the feeling, letting out a moan, shutting your eyes. his thrusts were slow, driving you insane. "fuck y/n. are you sure you still want to be with him?" he says groaning.

he continues thrusting slowly but deeply, having your arms get weak from holding yourself up. "Chris you feel so good stretching me out". you moan out. he lets out a small laugh as he pushes your head down into the couch picking up his pace, your arms giving out. "fuck!" you scream out. your eyes were clouding up as he continued to thrust faster. "you take it so good." he says with a single sweat drop slide down the side of his face.

you were a moaning mess. you never imagined Chris being this good. "you're so fucking hot y/n" he says putting his hands over yours as you both grip the couch beneath. you were enjoying every moment. you've never been treated so good. "is this what you needed to help you?" he asks keeping his pace. "yes!" you scream out. he slows down his thrusts leaning back up to leave kisses on your shoulder.

he then grips your waist as he pounds you slowly with his thrusts. you rolled your eyes with pleasure at the feeling. he grunts with every thrust. your legs started to get weak as you moan out, "i'm cumming Chris." he slaps your ass as he returns to his fast paced thrusts. you released all over his dick. he pulls out, stroking his dick on top of your ass, shooting his cum all over it. he throws his head back at the sensation.

your legs were shaking, as he chuckles with his breath uneven. he cleans you up, then collapsing next to you. you lay down staring at the ceiling. you stayed silent with a smile appearing on your face thinking to yourself, "wow." Chris then kisses you on the cheek asking you, "so... what's on your mind now?" you turn to look at him before replying, "you". he smiles at your response, kissing you gently.

"call me Mr. steal your girl from how I got you." he says with a sly smile. you both let out a loud laugh. your phone starts ringing again. you knew it was Zach. you let it ring. you didn't care. Chris grabs your phone and hangs it up. "remember, he can't give you what I got." he says.

a/n: sorry if this was short! likes and reblogs are highly appreciated. thank you!

[goodolreliablejake]

Fantasy races are an uncomfortable concept, because they present a world that literally works the way racists think that it works. The attempts to mitigate this problem often fail to address the core concern, merely making the idea more palatable.

A big example is trying to correct by changing the language from "races" to "species." This attempt fails for two reasons:

1) Exactly! Racists think that people of other races are a different species. That's the foundation of "race science," phrenology, all of it.

2) Are demihumans different species, though? Like, the interactions between elves and dwarves don't resemble the interactions between different species in our world. They don't act like snakes and lemurs, or whales and krill, or even cats and dogs. More often we've got different groups of people, who may speak different languages and have different cultural practices, engaging in diplomacy or war and struggling to coexist. In practice, they are treated as nations: ethnicities. Except they're ethnicities who are biologically distinct enough to have objective differences in ability.

This is something that puts me on edge in Mass Effect, otherwise one of my favorite games. True, the game ultimately lands on condemning the genophage, and it's not subtle about that. I mean just look at the name... But it's still considered debatable, morally grey, and Mordin Solus remains one of the most charming and enduring heroes of the series. The setting has bent over backwards to make every racist stereotype and talking point as legitimate as possible. In this setting, it is objectively true, scientifically proven that it is in the DNA of Krogans to naturally be violent, warmongering killing machines whose explosively rapid breeding poses an existential threat to the galaxy. That in turn is meant to make us think that maybe forced sterilization is something worth considering. It's hard to ignore the parallels to real life racist propaganda. I don't think it's malicious, just ungrounded and thoughtless; the result of creators to whom these ideals are abstract thought experiments, rather than reflections of real history.

Another big example is Dark Elves. They try to make it okay, to mitigate the message by fleshing them out as characters, by scapegoating an abusive deity rather than an ingrained nature, by erasing the monster manual description that reads "Always Chaotic Evil," by trending skin tone away from black and towards purple, or gray, even pale white. But none of it really changes the core issue, does it? The idea of drow is to equate dark skin with evil, to fetishize that idea, and to tell a story about a subsect of people cast into darkness as a result of sin in a direct parallel to racist Christian beliefs about dark skin being a curse or punishment from God.

So, do I think we need to cancel Mass Effect and stop playing D&D or telling stories about drow? No, not really. I mean... I do all these things. Truth is, I don't have an actionable solution, for myself or anyone. But the dynamic is clearly present and worth describing. And the attempts to challenge it are often insufficient, more about making ourselves feel better about what we're already doing than enacting real change.

[beekeeperspicnic]

Can't believe this blog has existed THIS long, and I've somehow never shared this Sherlock Holmes fanfic by PG Wodehouse. As far as I know it predates Conan Doyle publishing any stories which mention Holmes retiring to keep bees, which presents the delightful possibility that ACD discussed his future plans for Holmes with his young friend Plum, whose first reaction was to go off and write (and publish) a cute parody of it.

The Adventure of the Missing Bee

Sherlock Holmes is to retire from public life after Christmas, and take to bee-farming in the country.

"It is a little hard, my dear Watson," said Holmes, stretching his long form on the sofa, and injecting another half-pint of morphia with the little jewelled syringe which the Prince of Piedmont had insisted on presenting to him as a reward for discovering who had stolen his nice new rattle; "it is just a little hard that an exhausted, overworked private detective, coming down to the country in search of peace and quiet, should be confronted in the first week by a problem so weird, so sinister, that for the moment it seems incapable of solution."

"You refer—?" I said.

"To the singular adventure of the missing bee, as anybody but an ex-army surgeon equipped with a brain of dough would have known without my telling him."

I readily forgave him his irritability, for the loss of his bee had had a terrible effect on his nerves. It was a black business. Immediately after arriving at our cottage, Holmes had purchased from the Army and Navy Stores a fine bee. It was docile, busy, and intelligent, and soon made itself quite a pet with us. Our consternation may, therefore, be imagined when, on going to take it out for its morning run, we found the hive empty. The bee had disappeared, collar and all. A glance at its bed showed that it had not been slept in that night. On the floor of the hive was a portion of the insect's steel chain, snapped. Everything pointed to sinister violence.

Holmes' first move had been to send me into the house while he examined the ground near the hive for footsteps. His search produced no result. Except for the small, neat tracks of the bee, the ground bore no marks. The mystery seemed one of those which are destined to remain unsolved through eternity.

But Holmes was ever a man of action.

"Watson," he said to me, about a week after the incident, "the plot thickens. What does the fact that a Frenchman has taken rooms at Farmer Scroggins' suggest to you?"

"That Farmer Scroggins is anxious to learn French," I hazarded.

"Idiot!" said Holmes, scornfully. "You've got a mind like a railway bun. No. If you wish to know the true significance of that Frenchman's visit, I will tell you. But, in the first place, can you name any eminent Frenchman who is interested in bees?"

I could answer that.

"Maeterlinck," I replied. "Only he is a Belgian."

"It is immaterial. You are quite right. M. Maeterlinck was the man I had in my mind. With him bees are a craze. Watson, that Frenchman is M. Maeterlinck's agent. He and Farmer Scroggins have conspired, and stolen that bee."

"Holmes!" I said, horrified. "But M. Maeterlinck is a man of the most rigid honesty."

"Nobody, my dear Watson, is entirely honest. He may seem so, because he never meets with just that temptation which would break through his honesty. I once knew a bishop who could not keep himself from stealing pins. Every man has his price. M. Maeterlinck's is bees. Pass the morphia."

"But Farmer Scroggins!" I protested. "A bluff, hearty English yeoman of the best type."

"May not his heartiness be all bluff?" said Holmes, keenly. "You may take it from me that there is literally nothing that that man would stick at. Murder? I have seen him kill a wasp with a spade, and he looked as if he enjoyed it. Arson? He has a fire in his kitchen every day. You have only to look at the knuckle of the third finger of his left hand to see him as he is. If he is an honest man, why does he wear a made-up tie on Sundays? If he is an upright man, why does he stoop when he digs potatoes? No, Watson, nothing that you can say can convince me that Farmer Scroggins has not a black heart. The visit of this Frenchman—who, as you can see in an instant if you look at his left shoulder-blade, has not only deserted his wife and a large family, but is at this very moment carrying on a clandestine correspondence with an American widow, who lives in Kalamazoo, Mich. — convinces me that I have arrived at the true solution of the mystery. I have written a short note to Farmer Scroggins, requesting him to send back the bee and explaining that all is discovered. And that," he broke off, "is, if I mistake not, his knock. Come in."

The door opened. There was a scuffling in the passage, and in bounded our missing bee, frisking with delight. Our housekeeper followed, bearing a letter. Holmes opened it.

"Listen to this, Watson," said Holmes, in a voice of triumph.

"'Mr. Giles Scroggins sends his compliments to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, an' it's quite true, I did steal that there bee, though how Mr. Holmes found out, Mr. G. Scroggins bean't able to understand. I am flying the country as requested. Please find enclosed 1 (one) bee, and kindly acknowledge receipt to 'Your obedient servant, 'G. Scroggins.

'Enclosure.'?"

"Holmes," I whispered, awe-struck, "you are one of the most remarkable men I ever met."

He smiled, lit his hookah, seized his violin, and to the slow music of that instrument turned once more to the examination of his test tubes.

Three days later we saw the following announcement in the papers: "M. Maeterlinck, the distinguished Belgian essayist, wishes it to be known that he has given up collecting bees, and has taken instead to picture postcards."

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

[clinicse]

EYESURGERYANTALYA - GOLD

Are you considering eye laser surgery in Turkey? This bustling nation has rapidly become a top destination for individuals seeking advanced eye care treatments at affordable prices. Procedures such as eye laser surgery not only offer a chance for clearer vision but also feature state-of-the-art technology and highly qualified specialists. Additionally, options like trifocal lens surgery and blepharoplasty further enhance your overall eye health and appearance. With its rich culture and scenic beauty, Turkey makes for an appealing backdrop while you undergo transformative treatments.

Eye laser surgery turkey

When considering eye laser surgery Turkey, patients are often drawn by the combination of advanced technology and affordable prices. This type of surgery, often referred to as LASIK, uses state-of-the-art lasers to correct common vision problems such as nearsightedness, farsightedness, and astigmatism. Many clinics in Turkey offer experienced surgeons and modern facilities, making it a popular destination for those seeking improved vision.

One of the main advantages of choosing Turkey for eye laser surgery is the significant cost savings compared to many Western countries. Patients can expect to save anywhere from 30% to 70% on the total cost of the procedure, including travel expenses. This affordability often does not compromise quality, as many Turkish clinics adhere to international standards and boast accreditations from recognized bodies.

Additionally, the pre-operative consultations and post-operative care are typically thorough, ensuring that patients feel comfortable and informed throughout their journey. With a growing number of success stories, eye laser surgery in Turkey continues to gain popularity, making it an appealing option for those looking to enhance their vision safely and effectively.

Trifocal lens surgery turkey

Trifocal lens surgery Turkey is rapidly gaining recognition as an innovative solution for those seeking to improve their vision. This advanced surgical procedure allows patients to obtain clear vision at multiple distances, reducing the need for glasses or contact lenses. With the help of cutting-edge technology and skilled surgeons, many individuals are experiencing enhanced quality of life through this transformative surgery.

Many clinics in Turkey offer a comprehensive package for trifocal lens surgery, including pre-operative evaluations and post-operative care. These packages often come at a fraction of the cost compared to Western countries, making Turkey an attractive destination for medical tourism. Patients can not only experience substantial cost savings but also take advantage of the robust medical infrastructure available in the country, ensuring a safe and comfortable surgical experience.

Furthermore, the success rates for trifocal lens surgery in Turkey are impressive, with many patients achieving satisfactory results within days of the procedure. The procedure itself is typically quick, minimally invasive, and performed with precision, allowing for faster recovery times. As more individuals learn about the benefits of this procedure, Turkey continues to solidify its reputation as a leader in ophthalmic surgery.

Blepharoplasty turkey

Blepharoplasty, commonly known as eyelid surgery, is an increasingly popular cosmetic procedure in Turkey. It involves the removal of excess skin, fat, and muscle from either the upper or lower eyelids to enhance the appearance of the eyes and provide a more youthful look.

Turkey has become a top destination for blepharoplasty due to its combination of skilled surgeons and affordable prices. Many individuals from around the globe are seeking these procedures in major cities such as Istanbul, where advanced medical facilities and experienced professionals abound.

Patients considering blepharoplasty Turkey can expect a thorough consultation where doctors assess individual needs and create tailored treatment plans. Post-operative care and follow-ups are also essential components of the surgery, ensuring that patients achieve the best possible results with minimal complications.

[autistichalsin]

I'm sorry, like, I can legit understand where quite a few criticisms of Halsin come from even if I don't agree, but when people get upset that he's a bad leader, I just-

You guys. That's literally the point. The entire point is that he is unable to balance his own moral compass with the strict requirements of Druidic leadership, leaving him with the worst of both worlds, because he can't find a way to act that satisfies everyone. (A lot of) non-Druids see him as too obsessed with nature at the cost of people, and (a lot of) his Druids think he's weak and ineffective. The Grove does as good, if not better, without him around because his successor is able to adhere to Druidic code, preventing discordance. Halsin comments on this several times.

He struggles the entire time with being a devoted worshipper of Silvanus, (who is the god of wild nature in particular and doesn't even care that much about "balance" between nature and humanity, though Halsin clearly does a great deal), and his deep love of humanity- caring so much about others, about suffering, even about suffering that is entirely the result of the problems with civilization.

The entire reason he gets the much-maligned arc about hating the city isn't because "lol hippies", it's because it is the ultimate stress test for his priorities- and what ultimately illuminates his solution. Let the people in need be at the forefront while also getting a chance to serve nature as he loves so much. Him creating his commune isn't just running away from a romanced player- it's him balancing his need to serve the greater good with his struggles with leadership with his love of nature with his love of humanity. And this provides the best solution.

And he agrees with the assessment that he wasn't meant to be a leader, at least not in the Druidic order; if a romanced player tells him his new dream suits him, he softly says, "better than Archdruid ever did. The old teachings could never have foreseen this world."

Halsin isn't bad at all kinds of leadership, if you look closely at OTHER situations where he takes the lead outside of being Archdruid. It's just that weighing his beliefs vs those of the Druids left him unable to act effectively. If he's no longer constrained by those rival beliefs, he shows himself to be extremely effective, and his kindness and compassion guide him to helping those the most in need.

There is, after all, a reason that the first thing we learn about Halsin is that he took a group of Tiefling refugees into his Grove- a highly unusual act for the leader of a Druidic circle. It was all foreshadowing, all along, that his soft heart was going to be in DEEP conflict with the harder nature of the Druids.

That is literally his entire arc. Snarking that Halsin isn't great as an Archdruid is like snarking that Shadowheart seems unable to fully commit to worshipping Shar.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Big news! The US, and right after it, Canada, Australia and Italy, as well as the UK and Finland, have ALL frozen their financial support of UNRWA, following evidence presented to them that some of the UN agency's employees participated in the Hamas massacre.

To add to the news, this is NOT the first scandal involving this agency. UNRWA facilities have been continuously used for terrorist activity, UNRWA teachers and employees have been repeatedly called out for their support of antisemitism and terrorism, the same goes for UNRWA textbooks and schools, where antisemitism and terrorism are encouraged. It's even been asked why UNRWA still exists. Palestinians are the only ones who get their own refugee agency. Every other refugee, from every other country in the world, including ones suffering far greater humanitarian disasters, are treated by the general UN refugees agency, UNHCR. And unlike UNHCR, UNRWA does not look to solve the plight of the refugees it claims to help. If it's not enough that it's unclear why should Palestinians get their own agency, and why does it perpetuate the problem of Paletsinian refugees rather than help solve it, or why is there a separate definition for Palestinian refugees than for all other ones, Palestinian refugees also get more funding (through UNRWA) than any other refugee in the world. Just to highlight the absurdity, celeb millionaires Bella and Gigi Hadid, and their millionaire father Mohamed, are all still considered Palestinian refugees according to UNRWA's definition, despite obviously being well integrated into other countries.

Something I wanna add is about proportions within the UN and UNRWA employment. Globally, the UN says it directly employees 37,000 people. UNRWA's website says over 30,000 people work for it, and most are Palestinians, "with a small number of internation staff." That means UNRWA seems internation and impartial thanks to being counted as a UN body, but in reality, it is a Palestinian orgnization. It could never be impartial, like it wants to appear. But then it gets quoted endlessly by other UN bodies, as if UNRWA's data is impartial and reliable. It's been said more than once that many Hamas members are also employed by UNRWA, and in fact, Hamas has already voiced its displeasure over the funding to UNRAW being stopped. If Hamas is unhappy about it, when Hamas has been killing its own population, that says Hamas has its own vested interest in this organization.

Funding for UNRWA has been frozen before, but then restored. So that's not a solution. This time, the UN should be pressured to dismantle UNRWA, and move Palestinian refugees to the same definition, the same budget and the same kind of care and solution granted to all other refugees under the UNHCR.

Just a reminder that thanks to the anti-Israel demonization, Jews are not safe anywhere. In London, three people were recently attacked for simply speaking Hebrew. So here's your reminder that Hebrew is the native language of Jews, there are many Jews who try to learn and speak it, and targeting people for just speaking Hebrew is by its very nature antisemitic.

A new study shows that about half of the Israeli citizens evacuated from the north are suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. I don't know of a similar current survey regarding the Israelis evacuated from the south, but given the massacre they survived, one can only assume the situation among them is even worse.

These are Lior (right) and his 79 years old dad Chaim Perry (left).

Lior's brother was murdered during the Hamas massacre on Oct 7, and his life long peace activist father Chaim was kidnapped. Lior was asked today what he thought of the International Court of Justice's call yesterday for Hamas to return all of the Israeli hostages, immediately and without any conditions. He said he also calls for the same thing, and it's about as effective.

This is Irena Maman.

She's a resident of the northern Israeli city of Kiryat Shmona, but when most of its people were evacuated, Irena refused to. With her husband's help, she's still working as a tailor, and inviting soldiers who need their uniforms fixed to come see her, offering her work to them pro bono.

These are Aviad (left) and Gideon ("Gigi," right) Rivlin.

Four Rivlin brothers went to the Nova music festival together, Aviad, Gigi, Yochai and Yinon. When the terrorist attack started, they were giving the wounded water. At a certain point, they dispersed, with each brother running in a different direction. Aviad and Gigi did not survive. In an interview, their father said he's stopped asking himself why did he lose two sons, and started being thankful for having gotten two back. Gigi was named after his uncle Gideon, who was murdered by a terrorist from Gaza.

May their memories be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[theflashjaygarrick]

It's a missed opportunity that despite Roy Harper and Jason Todd hanging out now there's been never any tension between about them or exploration of their differing approaches and perspectives on the drug crisis. Particularly because for both of them it is deeply personal.

Roy Harper.

Roy became addicted to drugs in the 1971 comic Snowbirds Don't Fly which was Neil Adam’s and Dennis O'neill's attempt to tackle the "youth's greatest problem!" drug use and addiction. I feel like all most people know is that Speedy took drugs and Ollie took it badly, but that honestly ignores the whole point of the story. The story challenged contextual stigma around addiction and drug use as a personal failing or something that only happened to weak people. It explored how it could happen to anyone, even a hero like Speedy. It focused on the social factors such as racism and poverty and how they push people into substance abuse as a way to cope. It even turns the trope of the evil foreign drug cartel on its head by making the guy behind the drug supply a wealthy white American man in who runs a Pharmaceutical company, doesn't do drugs, and actively mocks the people he profits off the suffering of.

The point therefore is twofold. Firstly, drug users are people just like you and me and it is vital to be compassionate to people struggling with addiction. Ollie who yells at and hits Roy and leaves him due to anger and fear is clearly in the wrong. Hal and Dinah who look after Roy and stand beside him at his friend's funeral and as he confronts Ollie are clearly in the right. Secondly, the solution is not to focus on the drugs but instead to deal with the systemic problems of inequality, oppression, trauma and disenfranchised youth.

Despite parts of it ageing bad (the use of slurs was to demonstrate the damage of racism, but I feel uncomfortable having slurs uncensored in a comic book written by white authors) it is a surprisingly progressive take on addiction for a mainstream 70s DC comic. It also clearly demonstrates Roy's opinion on the drug problem and how to deal with it. He sees anger and going after dealers/manufacturers (like Ollie did) to not be enough. Instead the real change comes from helping the people in that situation by improving their lives and compassionately helping them at their worst.

Enter Jason Todd.

For context Jason Todd has had almost his entire life shaped by trauma of substance abuse. His (adoptive) mother Catherine struggled with addiction and overdosed just months before he met Batman, effectively orphaning him. Soon after he was found by Batman who essentially drafted him into his crusade on crime, not considering that being a vigilante may be potentially damaging for an already traumatised child.

But when he came back in UTRH he decided he could best help Gotham if he killed (largely non-costumed) criminals and controlled the city's criminal underworld himself. After violently assuming control of the drug trade, Jason imposed his own rules for dealers, most famously that he would kill anyone who sold drugs to children or near schools. Later while incarcerated Jason Todd killed 82 Blackgate inmates (and harmed over a hundred) by poisoning the prison food. This mass murder was intrinsically indiscriminate and due to the US prison system it is reasonable to assume people charged with drug offences were included in the death count.

Jason does have deep childhood trauma associated with addiction and drug use and wants to help prevent suffering. That being said, his approach treats drugs as a criminal problem to be eradicated or controlled, not just a symptom of deeper social issues. He kills people who sell drugs to kids, rather than helping building a support system so kids aren't pushed into abusing substances to cope and people don't have to deal to survive.

What does this mean?

Scott Lobdell got details of Roy's addiction wrong and distorted him into a reckless idiot who has been ostracised from the community. But if it was done right their interaction and opposing perspectives/experiences could be really interesting. Both hate drugs and the drug trade, but the way they conceptualise this hatred differs significantly.

Roy focuses on helping the individual and addressing deeper social problems, seeing drugs as a devastating but ultimately symptomatic. Jason sees drug use as first and foremost a criminal issue, with true benefits being achieved through controlling the criminal underworld.

Roy's priority is therefore supporting people struggling with addiction and showing compassion for their situation. Jason doesn't really focus on ways to help the individuals suffering from addiction, as much as mitigating the overall harm and fitting the drug trade into parameters he views as acceptable.

I think it would add needed complexity to their relationship (and to Jason's redemption if we're going that route) as well as dealing with the more 'war-on-drug' elements of UTRH. Also it would help Roy stand on his own as a strong, articulate leader with a dark past rather than being (at least for a while) reduced to essentially Jason's sidekick.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for @qwertynerd97; the wet nurse omegaverse. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Best intercept her before Jon hears her coming, then,” Bruce says briskly, already heading towards his office door. “Get her up to date on the situation and prepare her for what to expect from the kid.” 

He doesn’t in any way think that Lois would take either Carl’s presence or his total lack of pack manners badly, obviously. Lois isn’t all that manners-oriented herself and in fact typically appreciates people who don’t waste time on them outside of direct necessity. He does, however, want Clark to have a moment with his alpha before Jon goes to her smelling like another omega–and specifically like another omega’s milk. 

That’s definitely for the best, under the circumstances. 

Lois would never look at another omega and Jon would never want another mother. Of course neither of them would do that–certainly not over a situation like this one, of all damn things. Certainly not over a stray stranger half Lois’s age in a socially precarious position and likely in need of legal assistance, at a minimum. But Clark’s stressed and tired and has been worrying about a literal toddler starving to death while watching said starvation happen right in front of his eyes, so Bruce is just going to be arranging things to be a little gentler on the other’s instincts wherever possible. 

It’s just very, very much for the best, that’s all. 

“There’s not that much to expect, Bruce,” Clark says with a sigh, because no doubt he feels patronized by that treatment. 

He still follows him out of the office and to the foyer, though. 

Bruce lets them both out the front door, figuring talking on the stoop will be less likely to reach Jon’s ears. It’s a mental thing–Clark does it too. Just instinctively doesn’t listen outside of certain ranges or through certain barriers unless something catches his attention. Makes it easier to pass for human and focus on what’s immediately present, but also seems to be just a sort of subconscious sense of manners. 

Meaning yes, they’re just reflexively being polite. 

Bruce has always just assumed that the entire planet has Ma and Pa Kent to thank for that particular reflex, considering, and left it at that. 

They stand on the steps, waiting, and Clark keeps his eyes focused towards what Bruce can only assume is Lois’s approaching car. The two-hour commute from the Daily Planet isn’t ideal to be making, well–daily, but there’s only so much “work-from-home” Clark Kent and Lois Lane can do, especially when they’re not actually home and might have to explain being in a different home office than usual if a meeting came up. 

And again, they don’t want any kryptonite anywhere near this situation right now, especially not with Lor already weakened by hunger and starvation. Staying in Metropolis wasn’t an option, even if avoiding anyone noticing the Lane-Kents staying at Wayne Manor is going to be an issue. But Bruce has some cover stories mocked up just in case, and they’d all rather risk their identities than risk a child’s life. 

So–the commute for Lois, since Superman regularly flying her into work wouldn’t be any subtler, and parental leave for Clark for at least a couple of months. They’ll need something better set up for the long-term, especially now that they’ve found Carl and still not succeeded at the formula synthesization and will therefore almost definitely be staying in Gotham for the forseeable future, but . . . 

It’s a process. Bruce will figure it out. Clark and Lois need to focus on their new pup, so he’ll do the planning, and then he’ll bring it to them. They’re pack too, after all. 

And either way, someone has to do it. 

Clark doesn’t say anything as they wait. Bruce resists the urge to poke at the problem. A much more effective solution is on the way.

[hwnglx]

this was a complex and long one. the more i read on wonyoung, the more in awe i get of her. like wow we all need to learn a thing or two from this girl. she's a queen.

wonyoung's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled song: 28 reasons by seulgi

+ so unsurprisingly, this girl is a professional through and through. very common pattern for people who entered the industry at an early age. hard work in the entertainment business comes to them astoundingly easy. (something i saw for ni-ki previously)

she's just as polished and sophisticated off cam, as she is on cam. very focused on maintaining a clean image even behind the scenes, she's aware that's what can make or break a public figure. quite a few idols put on an angel act when cameras are on them, but allow themselves to be reckless beyond closed doors. wonyoung knows people talk, there's this sense of a continuously cautious “trust nobody” in her. this is something that sets her apart from many others. wonyoung is very aware that things will get out eventually, so she's incredibly eager to withhold a flawless reputation even behind the scenes. she's also extremely protective of what is hers, whether that's her material possessions (money, expensive or cherished items), the image she's worked hard on maintaining, her loved ones and cherished relationships. wonyoung puts a lot of value into keeping them in check, making sure they're taken care of.

i looked up her mars sign and immediately went “aaah” as soon as i saw it's in virgo, because she seems to be outstanding at planning. wonyoung is very calculated, everything she does she's fully aware of. she always acts while exactly knowing the effects it has on, not only herself, but the people around her. this is also a quality she doesn't only use for her own good, but many people around her seem to appreciate. since she's incredibly intuitive, she can combine those two qualities, which makes for a person who's great at identifying and reading situations, and wisely acting according to this profuse intuition. for example, if someone she's close to is telling her about their struggles, she not only is great at making them feel cared about and listened to, offering them emotional understanding and support, but also excellent at grasping the problem and conflict, and providing the person with helpful solutions on how to act. random thought, but i could see her being a pretty good psychologist, or lawyer. (did she ever talk about wanting to work in medicine or law if she wasn't an idol?)

wonyoung is very smart. not only emotionally intelligent, but also very eloquent. great at speaking and finding the right words at the right time. there's also a lot of drive in this girl, like so much. she has a very determined attitude, which can be contagious to the people around her. amazing at pulling people out of situations that seem hopeless, and giving them courage to move forward. a very good team player, she's capable of adjusting to her co-workers and compromising, finding a middle-ground for the sake of the team. i can see many people truly enjoying to work with her, because she doesn't only have such a profound understanding of what she's doing, but is also considerate of the people around her.

lastly, this girl literally pulls the strings, has most people at the palm of her hands with ease. especially in a romantic manner, if any men mess with wonyoung.. make no mistake, she will not be played by them but instead play them swiftly, probably without them even noticing until later. the type to smile at you and hug you while stabbing an injection with your own poison in your back, knowing you did this to yourself. type to beat you at your own game while smiling politely.

she will not allow anyone to trick her, make a fool out of her. she reads and understands behaviorial patterns very well, so it just isn't easy to mislead her. however! best believe she only does this to people who do her wrong first. people who deserve it. it's giving “i'm sweet and respectful to everyone but, you better know not to mess with me, because that's when you'll get to see a different side to me” as i mentioned, i can see her being pretty cut-throat when it comes to men. especially in the industry. many weird ass men in there, wonyoung does not allow them to put themselves above her, just because of their bizarre gender superiority complex. (i remember this spiting some male idols in my reputation reading lmao well..) there's this thing of her always remaining crazy polite though, and doing just enough for payback. in this smart manner in which she can't be blamed or faulted for it.

- i hate to say this, but wonyoung can have her entitled princess tendencies. it's kinda giving spoiled rich girl who not only expects the best treatment, but is also so selective over who she calls her friends, depending on their status. not sure if she grew up in a rich household, but this seems like something that comes very naturally to her. she's very very meticulous, very very picky and perfectionistic. even if she doesn't always express it in a mean or aggressive way, it can just rub people the wrong way since it can give off pick me energy. i can see her being all “hmmm no” about some potentially beneficial things in her career like jobs or opportunities, just because she can feel superior to them. like she's above them. very much boss energy and it again, is incredibly smart in several ways, but sometimes it can be off putting, she isn't always right in her judgement without fail.

she's so invested in closely managing people's image of her, that she can quickly drive herself crazy over trivial details. there seems to be a lot of fear when it comes to letting go of this obsession and control over her reputation, as well as making herself vulnerable. wonyoung seems to have a lot of trust issues. this comes up everytime i read for her.. there's this constant feeling like everyone is out to get her somehow. i think she's seen a lot of shit happen in the industry, people in the business can be cruel and cold. just like the public, they can often look at and treat idols as these emotionless dolls. due to this, wonyoung can easily get mistrustful of people with pure and good intentions. she protects her heart in a very fierce manner. (this could for sure go up to the green flags but her immense trust issues seem to potentially stand in the way of her forming genuine and healthy connections too)

she's so scared of appearing easy to attack, easy to hurt or easy to access and weak. she hates crying in front of people, and always puts on a perfect mask she hides all her inner struggles behind. she's scared of baring her true soul to people because she doesn't like the thought of them seeing her as a flawed person. wonyoung sets herself up to skyhigh standards, because she believes she's lacking and unworthy of praise if she doesn't meet those expectations. she feels like she needs to be perfect for people to like her, which is sad and ironic, because.. they literally go on hating on her for appearing so perfect. people need to calm the hell down, shut the hell up and realize their words are making her put on even more of an act, hide herself even further, since she's actually so easily hurt. her heart is much softer than people realize, and much softer than she herself would like it to be.

[synthetickitsune]

Hi can I please request a svt o13 reaction where svt have to deal with a s/o who is having hiccups and the hiccups just don't seem to stop. Like what would they do?

askjhajs this was a fun silly thing to do!

S.Coups ❧ He finds you the most adorable thing in the world. He teases you for the first couple minutes but when the hiccups just won’t stop, he gets worried. Honestly if it lasts long enough he’ll start thinking about talking to a doctor or something. He sulks when you get frustrated with him after he keeps asking if you tried this and that method to get rid of the issue. Miraculously, after you snap at him, there are no more hiccups but there is a pouty Seungcheol that can't believe your body would betray him like this. He lies on your chest that night and keeps muttering grumpily that he doesn’t deserve this.

Jeonghan ❧ He keeps cooing about how cute you are but when you complain that it’s starting to hurt, there's no way he can watch you struggle and not help. Yet he disappears on you, and you very reluctantly search the house for him, hiccuping every couple seconds. And when you just begin thinking he must've gone out without telling you, he jumps from behind you and scares you half to death. Jeonghan’s plan doesn't work and now you’re both hiccuping and hyperventilating. He quickly gathers you into his arms with soft apologies. At least you get some cuddles and pampering as a compensation.

Joshua ❧ He's on his phone the second it seems like your hiccups won't just stop. He scrolls the net for solutions. He goes through them with you one by one, constantly rubbing your back for support. He's smiling at you softly which truly helps with your rising panic that this is your life now. He brings back a glass of water - it got you the closest to freedom before. He doesn't make you drink it but instead threatens to pour it over his head if your body doesn't get it together. Needless to say, even your body knows better than to mess with Shua.

Jun ❧ He laughs at you. He even has the nerve to imitate the way you jump with each hiccup. His amusement quickly fades into worry and guilt when it just won't stop, though. He follows you around and keeps checking if you're okay yet. He makes you drink enough water to make you sick, yet it doesn't have the desired effect. So he settles for being your moral support and keeps apologizing for making things worse. You end up cuddled up in Jun's lap, watching some movie that's boring enough to make you fall asleep. Still, you don’t hiccup anymore so he will count that as a win.

Hoshi ❧ After a while, it just gets funny to him that you keep hiccuping, but after a longer while, it's not as fun anymore. At least he has the decency to look sheepish when you call him out on his earlier teasing. Nothing seems to help, and he can see you're getting annoyed, so he changes his attitude and tries to make you laugh. He cuddles you and returns each of your hiccups with a little roar. You roll your eyes at him but it is cute. And it does take your mind off the issue at hand. For a bit. After that doesn't work anymore, you're left with clingy Soonyoung threatening you with doctors - and promising to hold your hand the whole time.

Wonwoo ❧ You're just so grateful for Wonwoo's patience and the small, reassuring smile he gives you wherever you apologize for disturbing during the movie. The idea was that maybe you'd get scared or shocked or just distracted and the hiccups would stop on their own. No such luck. He's a champ though, and he rubs your arm as you curl into his side in defeat. Sometimes, out of nowhere he speaks up and comments on the movie - which is highly unusual but seeing how distressed you are thinking you're disturbing him, he's gotta at least try to help. Even though it doesn't cure the root of the problem, at least he sees you relax again.

Woozi ❧ Let’s be real, the constant hiccuping isn’t annoying only to you but to him as well. Mostly because he gets startled each time you suddenly jerk with the strength of that particular hiccup and that’s embarrassing. Jihoon is a man on a mission as he reads article after article on hiccups, how to deal with them and what causes them. Somehow he ends up on a forum for mothers with children with dozens of crazy ideas. You try a couple that seem kind of alright and the third time's the charm. You laugh at some of the ridiculous ‘hacks’ but ultimately you make him keep the link saved. Just in case.

The8 ❧ At first it's a little cute but when you keep hiccuping after all this time, he gets concerned and decides he must help you. He guides you through several breathing exercises and tries not to crack up at the random hiccups shaking your body and echoing in the otherwise silent room. Minghao will pet your hair gently and reassure you that he'll still love you even if you hiccup for the rest of your life or if you turn into a worm. The shock of those words coming out of his mouth is enough to cure you. He has a victorious smirk on his face but doesn't take it back - it’s honestly an all win situation for you.

Mingyu ❧ He giggles almost as much as you hiccup. It's so cute to him - you're his precious grumpy sweetheart and it's so fun to tease you. Karma is free though, so for all his laughing he soon begins hiccuping as well and suddenly finding a cure that will work is a team effort. When you resist his pout and tell him he's on his own, Mingyu argues that it's gonna be embarrassing if he keeps hiccuping during recording. Somehow you cure your hiccups but the same thing just isn’t working for him. He's still happy for you but very dramatic about "sacrificing" himself for your well-being.

DK ❧ You’re an efficient person and you’ve read that surprise or sudden scare might cure your problem. Sure, you’re feeling bad for your boyfriend for what you’re about to do but you know he will understand. You creep up behind Seokmin quietly and then - as you expected - you hiccup. He shrieks and jumps, catching you off guard with both because you never know when to expect him to turn into a dolphin. He’s just about to scold you for scaring him but then he notices you’re looking at him like he just saved your life and he gets really worried until you explain. Then he dies laughing because, like, this never even happened to Mingyu so how unlucky you have to be??

Seungkwan ❧ He's scolding you like this is your fault even as he holds you and fusses around you. It's his first time ever seeing someone hiccuping for so long, so excuse him if he's a little concerned and dramatic. He will ask his mother for tips. He follows you everywhere, trying to be sneaky, but you catch him every time and he only gives you a smile and asks how you are feeling. It breaks your heart seeing Seungkwan's worried puppy eyes and the wrinkle between his brows. Eventually, the hiccups do stop and he just drapes himself over you, feeling so relieved he might cry. He'd get flashbacks any time you hiccup in the future.

Vernon ❧ You will strangle him, seriously. You would if all this wouldn't be the thing that finally got you rid of the endless hiccups. The this in question being currently the 35th minute of Vernon reading you some bizarre hiccups stories off the internet now that he's run out of medical theories behind what exactly hiccups are and how they happen. He doesn't even notice you're cured. You blame some obviously fake story about a guy who popped a lung due to hiccups. You had a good laugh over that one. Your boyfriend seems to be having a good time still so you curl up into his side and fish for more internet gold with him.

Dino ❧ He's a sweet and supportive boyfriend. When he notices the hiccups just won't go away, he tries to help and looks for more suggestions of cures. He's very wholesome and you're so grateful for him. That is until there's a wave of quickly following hiccups rocking your body and all he has to say is "drop the beat". Seeing your deadpan expression, the seriousness of which is undermined only by another hiccup, he bursts out laughing and you chase him around the house, the hiccups ceasing in the process. Chan is very proud that in the end he was the solution to yet another of your struggles.

[lucawrites11]

the lionesses biggest problems against france and my solutions

keira walsh unable to lose her marker

the lack of a left footed centreback

poor defending of corners especially from hampton

terrible substitutions

a lack of speed and players in the box

a lack of creativity in line-ups making us completely predictable

okay, let's look at these problems in depth:

sarina loves a 4-3-3 or 4-2-3-1 looking something like this:

however this line-up has multiple problems. the first is that it's predictable, it is a slight modification of the same line-up with the same people that has been used since the euros except it no longer has the same level of success because the opposition has figured out it's weaknesses.

the first major risk is the reliance of Keira Walsh. Germany had figured this out by the Euros Final. as one of the best holding midfielder in the world, she's absolutely crucial in terms of the passes she provides forward and her ball recovery but if you just put one player on her all game (in France's case it was Kenza Dali) you can mark her out and remove England's ball recovery ability and ensure that they struggle to get the ball forward.

Another weakness is that if Sarina choses to start Greenwood, as she did yesterday, there is no defender with a good left foot and that leaves the defence vulnerable and also limits the connection that Hemp can have with her full-back down the left. Furthermore, without Lauren James, Ella Toone doesn't provide the same speed running in behind in the 10 role and that switch with Russo to allow Russo to overload the midfield and start goal scoring play. It was something that she did multiple times against France but Toone didn't make her way into the box like James and there is no finishing. English is struggling without that out and out striker, and Lauren James compensated for that gap. Without James, speed in the frontline is also lost, leaving Hemp the fastest forward player and no one chasing after her to get into the box with her.

Also loosing Earps meant that Hampton was shaky and thrown off coming on and she has never been as strong at set piece defending. Khiara may be a better option to defend set pieces where France are deadly but that's too much pressure for a debut game almost. I would like to see Khiara get her first England cap in the next Ireland match to allow be more of an option for Sarina as competition for Earps and Hampton. Sarina also failed in terms of not making a subsitution until the seventieth minute and bringing on experience where England clearly needed more speed and fresh legs. Leaving Jess Naz, Grace Clinton and Jess Park's speed on the bench was criminal.

what's the solution?

in my opinion, sarina has to use an entirely new line-up that does a few things:

either takes Walsh off the pitch or uses a midifeld overload that allows her more freedom

brings more speed into the attacking line

places a winger or ten behind Russo with the ability to get into the box

makes space for a left-footed centreback

there are a few options:

3-4-3

this is my least favourite option. it solves the keira walsh problem by taking her off the pitch but that leaves stanway as the sole holding midfielder. furthermore, it gives space for a left footed centreback in alex greenwood but it means bronze is pushed into the midfield which she can play effectively and would allow for speed in the attack but can leave a defensive hole on the wings. also without a clear left midfielder (carter could maybe play where i've place clinton and if she does, clinton should replace kirby). however clinton has speed to get into the box and as does kirby. this is also tiring for the midfield however england does have the midfield depth to bring on in park.

4-4-2 (diamond)

4-4-2 is on the left and the diamond option is on the right

both are strong choices for this england side and i think that hemp can also play up front next to russo with mead on the right with bronze and clinton or stanway on the left. two centre-forwards in russo and mead/hemp allows the centrebacks to be occupied and for a high press which can interfere with the french attempt to play out from the back that they love. clinton allows has the pace to run in behind when russo or mead manage to steal the ball allowing for a quick counter attack. four in the midfield can also overload the three that the french place in the there and challenge their ability to mark keira walsh out of the game. furthermore, a strong press in russo and hemp/mead allows the midfield be bypassed because the four doesn't always provide a full overload. two upfront can also compensate for when russo drops into the midfield and to hold up the ball, this also allows for the full overload with five in the midfield to pull markers off keira. with a strong left back in greenwood who can play centreback, williamson can also drop into the midfield for an overload. a four at the back with the left-footed defender allows for a deep block if the ball is lost, something that is likely to happen if france play in the midfield again.

3-5-2

this is my favourite line-up

the five in the midfield allows for a complete overload that can release walsh and give her the freedom to pass forward. furthermore, there is the left-footed centreback in greenwood. bronze and hemp playing as wing-backs also allows for a deep block when they drop back and they are both fast at getting both back and forward on the defense and attack which can be the main weakness of this line-up however bronze and hemp can play well as wing-backs. furthermore, bronze, hemp and clinton can overload the final third to support the high press of russo and mead that ensures players in the box and speed on a break to that can work quickly to throw off a french defense and a build up of play from the back

i think this will solve a lot of england's problems going forward and back and release keira walsh in the midfield as well as throwing france off with a new line-up that they wouldn't be expecting

i would also like to see jess park and aggie beever-jones up front to provide support as a striker for alessia russo or speed in behind replacing grace clinton

[lastoneout]

It's also like super fucking infuriating to see people continue to argue that generative AI is the best way for disabled and/or poor people to make art because like, you know what helps make art more accessible? Giving poor and disabled people money.

Like take me for instance, I'm disabled. I get severe migraines and intense leg/back pain if I sit at my computer for too long, my hEDS makes holding pens and pencils hard, my ADHD makes it hard for me to start certain tasks and/or stop them before I potentially hurt myself, my neck also hurts if I look down too much, my dyslexia AND my ADHD both make it difficult to keep track of a story as I write and use correct spelling and grammar, plus, I need to prioritize taking care of myself and going to appointments and keeping my house clean and that takes up a lot of my free time. All of these things make creating the kind of art I want to create difficult if not occasionally impossible.

So what do you think would solve my problems better? Giving me money so that I can have a drawing tablet and desk chair that won't hurt my neck or back, another tablet + pen and a lap table and comfortable body pillows for drawing in bed, easier transportation to my doctors appointments, effective treatment for my chronic pain and migraines, the ability hire someone to help me keep my house clean, a spelling/grammar checker that isn't complete ass, and a therapist and psychatrist who can help me manage my ADHD better?

Or an AI program that takes my input and spits out a drawing or story made of stolen content glued together that, in the case of the art, I cannot meaningfully edit without starting over, which also destroys the environment in the process?

Seems pretty obvious to me. I don't need AI, I need help to manage the things that are actually stopping me from being able to write and draw.

Or take my mom. She's had severe rhumatoid arthritis since she was a small child, her hands are deformed and she relies on her wheelchair to get around. She doesn't need AI to help her paint, she needs special paint brushes she can actually hold, a table her wheelchair will fit at, and someone to help her with personal hygiene/keep her house clean/take her to doctors appointments so she actually has free time to paint.

Does that poor kid growing up in public housing with parents who are too poor to afford art classes or supplies or to send them to college really need a computer program to draw for them, or do they need support to help them take those classes, buy drawing supplies, and money so they can go to college.

Blind people can paint, deaf musicians exist, people with missing limbs find all sorts of ways to make art, people with parkinson's paint with typewriters, my mother can't hold a normal paintbrush and she makes some of the most beautiful watercolor paintings I've ever seen, Van Gogh had bipolar disorder and only sold like one painting when he was alive, I mean for real how many different artists have you heard of who's biographies start with them being born into poverty?

This is not meant to be inspiration porn, these people are just ones who were able to find ways to make art despite their struggles. They shouldn't have had to struggle at all, but god imagine how many more artisrs and writers we could have had if none of them had to overcome those struggles. It breaks my heart to think of all the wonderful art that never got to exist because no one helped the people who could have made it actually have the time, money, support, and safety they needed to make it. AI would not have saved them because making art isn't the problem, being disadvantaged is the problem. Living in a world that refuses to make room for you is the problem. Being fucking poor is the problem. Humans have always found ways to make art despite huge barriers, the solution isn't a computer that makes art for them, it's SUPPORT AND MONEY SO THEY CAN OVERCOME THOSE BARRIERS AND MAKE THEIR OWN ART.

As a last example: I love watching dancing and I would love to be able to dance, but I'm terrible at it(I got kicked off a dance team for not being able to learn the dance at all despite spending weeks on it, idk my brain wasn't made for dancing) and my disabled body makes it more pain than pleasure if not actively dangerous, anyway. Having a robot dressed to look like me dance next to me while I get to watch would not make me feel like I'm getting to dance. It would actually be extremely fucking demoralizing and frustrating. I would hate that!!

Having an AI spit out a painting or book would not make me feel like I got to paint or write a book. It's a fucking anamatronic doll running on stolen ideas and it will never be the same as getting to actually expirience the joy of creating art first hand. AI is not the solution. Helping people who need it is the solution. And I am CONSTANTLY pissed to think about all the time and money that goes into these fucking AI programs that would be better spent helping disabled and poor people get the help they need so they can make art themselves, all while the people running the nightmare plagiarism pollution machines pretend that their horrible inventions exist to help people like me.

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 Epilogue

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

Thank you all SO MUCH for reading. Thank you to everyone who supported me and listened to me babble about this series since December. Thank you to all the readers who messaged me, commented, liked, reblogged, etc. I see every single one of you and I appreciate you so much. I injected a LOT of my own experiences and trauma directly into this story, and it meant a lot to me to be able to share it with you all. Whatever you're going through or whatever you've been through - you are a survivor, you are enough, and you can save yourself. Writing this has been such a journey and it wasn't always easy, but it was always worth it. xoxo

PREVIOUS

Epilogue

Some Summer Sunday (900) Sunday service is a regular occurrence for you and Joel, and the church gets more crowded every week. You've been noticing the building filling up with people of all faiths, packing in the pews until there’s only standing room left, and then lining the walls. Joel tells you residents from all over The Valley make the trek into town every weekend to see you but you’re pretty sure he’s just being complimentary. Guys say all kinds of shit when they’re trying to get in your pants so when he acts like everyone thinks you’re the holy madonna you just chalk it up to that. 

He’s asked you to wear a nice outfit today in preparation for a big announcement, so you’re wearing a flowy yellow gown with a little too much tulle in the skirt and feeling like a tragically awkward beauty queen. You’re worried he’s going to make a big deal of the greenhouse plans and you’re going to have to stand there while everyone - including Isaac - stares at you, waiting for you to make some kind of speech like you just won a humanitarian award. 

You don’t want to be raised aloft like some kind of goddess, that was where Joel made his mistake. You think it’s more effective to meet people on their level, to just act human and blend in with the group. People like having something to believe in but as long as they’re being taken care of and heard, they work better as a collective. Plus, when something goes wrong there’s not someone risen above everyone else for them to direct blame at, instead everyone just works together towards a solution to the problem.

But what Joel does on this day is even worse than you could have imagined. He asks you to join him in the thick, sweltering summer heat, standing in front of the maxed-out congregation and then, holding your hand in his, he gets down on one knee. Your brows knit in confusion and you’re honestly about to ask him if he’s okay until he pulls something out of his pocket. A ring. A fucking ring. Several women in the crowd gasp and squeal, and a smattering of clapping makes the rounds. 

You can’t believe he’s doing this to you right now.

“I want to give you everything I have, to share everything with you.”

You’re going to die of embarrassment.

“I want your partnership, your company, and your sage wisdom.”

No, he’s going to die. You’re going to kill him.

“I want your mind, your heart, and your body.”

Jesus fuck-, in a church, Joel? 

“I will spend the rest of my life loving, honoring, and obeying you.”

Did he just say-

“Baby,” he winks. “Marry me.”

That wasn’t even a question. He just ordered you to-

The crowd erupts in applause as Joel rises and places the ring on your finger, grabbing both sides of your face and kissing your mouth.

“I didn’t say yes,” you murmur against his lips.

“But you will. You know we’re perfect for each other” he says, looking deep into your eyes. He whispers your name. “I’m so in love with you.”

Words that you once wanted to hear so badly still carry an edge to them, a phantom sting in your gut from an old wound he made.

“You just said you’d obey me in front of everyone,” you say, your voice a whisper.

“I know,” he hums. “And I will.”

This is a lot. You let your guard down at the house, when you’re all alone. You let him hold you and kiss you and fuck you on every surface... but in public? You raise your walls back up, barely letting him touch you. Now he’s proposing marriage - marriage - and practically submitting to you in front of the whole Valley.

“What if I still don’t trust you?” you ask, your voice even quieter.

“That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

This is so fucked up. You know this, you know how fucked up this is. This is so fucked up that you should push him away and tell everyone exactly what kind of man he is, create a mob to distract him while you run away and leave this valley permanently. Tess would probably even help you this time. But the most fucked up thing of all is that you don’t want to do that, you don’t want to leave him. Part of you might hate him but there’s a part of you that loves him too. 

Not the way you loved him before, of course, when you were willfully ignorant of who he was. There’s a part of you that loves the Joel you now know he is. The anger, the power, the obsession. It rolls off him in waves that you can taste and smell, like a thick incense it fills your nostrils, intoxicating you. It makes you crave his violent nature, makes you want to sick him on your enemies like a junkyard dog, makes you want to climb him like a tree and howl at the moon. It makes you feel… exalted. 

“Marry me,” he says again. Just as much a command as it was the first time.

You look him in his dark eyes and nod slightly, watching his devilish smile grow.

You’re not going anywhere. You’re exactly where you belong… at his side.

🖤

THE END

Thank you SO MUCH to Bug for stepping in and helping me when I needed it, you are always fucking there when I need you and your friendship means so much to me I can't even put it into words. I love you I love you I love you. TY Beef for helping me in this process and for your amazing suggestions, encouragement, and absolute hyping up along the way. I am SO grateful for your friendship, you are such a ray of sunshine. I love you so so SO much. 🖤Cult Joel (CJ) would not be what he came to be without both of your help.🖤

no taglists going forward - follow @nox-notifs & turn on notifs🫶

TAGLIST @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @pinkypromisepascal @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @macaroni676