#everyone is getting replaced in this house

[reignpage]

College student!Sukuna

11:54pm: three’s a crowd

warnings: 18+ mdni, stalking, trespassing, voyeurism, yandere!sukuna, pervy!sukuna, nonconsensual recording, mentions of panty stealing, mild act of violence, masturbation, not proofread

college student!sukuna had been deathly quiet since shoko squealed about your date with a guy on your course to the rest of the group. everyone was over at gojo’s frat house for drinks, just the ‘inner circle’ (gojo’s words), to catch up. and for reasons that continue to elude you, your bff thought it would be the funniest thing ever to make you reveal your plans over a stupid game of truth or dare. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to glance at college student!sukuna whilst the group howled and wolf-whistled. perhaps it was because you knew there would be no reason to; he isn’t your boyfriend, you owe him nothing. but maybe, just maybe, it was because you weren’t brave enough to find the answer to a question you had been asking yourself when you said yes to your classmate. 

would he care?

it would, undoubtedly, break your heart if he was cheering you on just like everyone else. so, after the events of last night, you go to your date with an excitement that didn’t come naturally, like a plastic mask, rigid and cheap. but you enjoy yourself regardless - he’s sweet, kind and cute in a boy-next-door type of way. he makes you laugh, he opens doors and pays for dinner. 

of course, you don’t plan on inviting him up to your apartment, even if shoko had excused herself for the night with a salacious wink, choosing to room with utahime to ‘cleanse’ themselves from ‘male energy’. but when you make the mistake of viewing gojo’s story just as he’s dropping you off at your door and see that your friend’s at yet another party, you change your mind. 

because there in the background is college student!sukuna with a girl clinging to his shirt with her leg thrown over his lap and her face buried in his neck. in a flurry of hastily thrown clothes and clumsy clashing of teeth, you wind up in your bed with this boy before you even realise that your front door had been unlocked. 

college student!sukuna wasn’t pleased to hear the news, to say the least. what you hadn’t seen was the flex of his jaw, the tick of his brow and the darkening look in his eyes. he decided there and then that he was going to ruin your plans. at first, he figured he could crash your date or spread rumours the guy had an std or a micro-penis. but then he thought he should let the boy take you on a date so you could at least get a free dinner, his girl shouldn’t go hungry after all. 

college student!sukuna chose to distract himself by tagging along with the guys to a sorority party, allowed a girl to touch him up so he could pretend it was him you were with. 

but then a thought occurred to him; a free dinner might not be all the guy would offer. with a sudden fury, he threw aside the girl whose name he never actually heard, nor asked for, and drove over to your place. he had a spare key made that neither you nor shoko knew about, so he let himself in, planning to sit on the sofa, fists ready to be thrown if someone other than you (or shoko) came through the door. 

that was he had originally planned. 

college student!sukuna hadn’t intended to be distracted by the realisation that your room would be empty. he was just going to sniff your pillows and rifle through your dirty laundry basket for new material. he hadn’t meant to be distracted by a lingerie set hanging in your closet. so when he heard the sudden rush of footsteps he made the split decision to tuck himself away with your clothes, leaving a crack for him to peer through. 

so there he is, fighting the urge to drag that stupid guy off you and replace him with his own body. he knows for a fact he can make you feel so much better than that loser. guy didn’t even bother eating you out, didn’t look up from your tits to see if your face is scrunched up from pleasure. certainly doesn’t even think to suffocate you with his mouth and tongue or to bend you into different positions to leave you sore all over. 

you’re only in your bra and your skirt’s pooling over your waist whilst the guy thrusts without any kind of rhythm into you. he’s sweaty and loud, like a pig, and you hate the feeling of his baby-soft, clammy hands on your skin and the high pitched whining in your ear. you find yourself craving rough palms gripping your hips, low growls vibrating through your bones, hard muscles pinning you down to the bed, maybe a hand pressing you into your pillows as you get plowed down with relentless thrusts. 

why did you let jealousy fuel your actions?

possibly one of the stupidest things you’d ever done. 

college student!sukuna agrees. he knows you’re regretting it, can tell by the half-hearted moans you’re pushing out, by your limp arms, and by the fact that the guy comes only a couple minutes later. the noticeable annoyance on your face might make him laugh if it isn’t for the incessant throbbing in his jeans. 

it doesn’t even occur to him to be worried about what would happen if you found him in your closet with a boner because all he can focus on is your creeping hands teasing your folds before you begin rubbing your clit with a frustrated fervour. you have your phone in your hand, clearly needing visual stimuli to get going. 

college student!sukuna wishes he could see what you’re looking at, itching to know what sick kinks you have hiding in there and desperate to know if they align with his. your date’s passed out, snoring away with his dick barely tucked back in, and you’re cupping your tit over the lace as you moan under your breath, desperate to keep quiet. 

your orgasm is weak, barely there and you hate that gross feeling of bodily fluids and bad decisions catching up to you. eventually, you push yourself up and head into the bathroom to clean up, hoping the guy will leave by the time you’re done. when you come out, you’re pleased to see he is, you don’t even care he didn’t say bye or thanks, and you’re sure he won’t ever contact you again. 

thank god.

college student!sukuna left too. snuck out right behind your date and shoved him into a bush from behind before getting into his car to rush back home so he could release the ache in his cock. he almost reached into his jeans to jerk off in time with your hand but decided against it — he didn’t want to cum to the sight of you naked with a guy next to you. if you weren’t so goddamn hot, his boner would have deflated. 

no, college student!sukuna wants to cum in his own bed to the recording of you he didn’t even realise he took until he was checking the time on his phone and noticed the video still going. guess it was second nature for him to press record as soon as you were remotely vulnerable. 

and he knows saving his load for this shaky video of you would be so worth it because if he pressed his phone to his ear and turned the volume all the way up, he’d hear the faintest, annoyingly quiet, barely audible whisper of his name leaving your lips. 

college student!sukuna's heart, and cock, is full of so much love for you, his sweet girl, always thinking of him. 

you and him are a match made in heaven. 

[sassydefendorflower]

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List 2.0

Hello and welcome back to a very special fanfic rec list! 

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated! 

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

Fujiwhara Effect by byrambles / @byrambles

Fujiwhara Effect: When two tropical cyclones spinning in the same direction pass so close to each other than they begin spinning around a common center. Or: Dick is NOT a fan of Bruce’s new kid (seriously, WHO brings home a new kid weeks after the old one moves out and then doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell – ). When he gets trapped in Gotham by an East Coast hurricane, though, he has to figure out how to be in the same room as Jason without losing it.

byrambles's words: This was so much fun to write! I think it has a sweet mix of angst and fluff — plus a silly little surprise part-way through!

The Lines that Bond Us by canaf_lilah

Reclusive author Bruce Wayne's most recent book, The Bat Man, was a critical success and a mass market flop. As he struggles to make sense of a sequel, he shocks no one more than himself when he brings home recently orphaned Dick Grayson. Bruce could never have predicted the impact on his life - and his writing - the remarkably resilient young acrobat would have. Batman and Robin may only exist on the pages of Bruce's books, but that doesn't stop them from saving the people they touch.

Lilah's words: to me this is by far the best fic I've ever written. I'm determined to finish it one day, but don't be too put off by the incomplete status! It works well as a standalone.

red like blood (they won't wash clean) by silver_the_phoenix

Tim snaps. It's a lot bloodier than he thought it would be.

Silver's words: I started this one because Tim deserves to go a little feral, as a treat; and I finished it because I'm a simp for Good Brother Jason Todd.

Cared For by 1Zukoneedsafamily2 / @trashcollectshere

Jason smirked as he stood over The Replacement. He stroked the feathers of the splayed-out wings, before he gripped a group of feathers and yanked. Not hard enough to pull out feathers but he wanted him awake when the fun started.

Krys' words: also everyone loves a tower fic right???

Brother, Go Find Your Brother by sleepingcreep (JaySgrech) / @misplacedspleen

Brother, go find your brother: A method of finding something lost by attempting to lose something similar in the same way, in the hopes that it gets lost in the same place and both can be found. “You should match, right?” The grin cracked wider as the lanky captor rolled the knife between their fingers, strolling closer to where Tim was pinned to the wall. Jason didn’t comprehend what the creep meant, too focused on trying to pull his hands against the cuffs in the right way to pop his thumb out of place to get free. There are many years of scars between Jason and Tim before they match.

Jay's words: I'm reccing it because I'm proud of how the settings turned out and I think I wrote a unique take on Jason and Tim's relationship

dirt piling up, putting me to bed by rutaceae / @applejee

Jason never imagined that a simple trip to a bookshop could end with him trapped in the basement of a collapsed building with Tim, but you don't often get what you imagined when you live in Gotham.

Luka's words: i’m quite happy with how contained this little fic is (for me); i always wanted to stab someone, and have someone else panic so bad they don’t realise they’re fucked up themself. fun times!!

Do-Si-Do's Churros & Other Curious Things About Love by sElkieNight60 / @selkienight60

Being a beta in a house full of alpha’s is rough. Especially if you’re trying to be heard.

Selkie's words: I like it because I really enjoy reading Platonic Omegaverse stories, and the Batfamily are so unrepresented here, (I say, in the meaning that I simply crave more of them, there are truthfully quite a few out there, but I just enjoy them so much).

Maui Melon Mint by motleyfam / @motleyfam

In the case of Bats vs. Stomach Bug, there can only be one victor.

Motley's words: I had a ton of fun writing from Damian’s POV for a change and letting Alfred wear his sassy pants

Writer's Cellblock by pinstripedJackalope / @the-ghost-of-jason-todd

Mystery writer and father to five, Bruce Wayne has no great fortunes to fall back on. No reserve of social charisma, no family jewels. He no longer has a butler, though Alfred does his best to visit regularly. He is, in short, not the kind of man who can buy freedom. Heck, he can barely make ends meet some months. So you can understand the… concern… he feels when, late one night, two FBI agents come knocking at his door.

K's words: ngl it was hard to pick a fic, and i would have picked one with more than one chapter but i always did think this one was kind of fun

Golden Silence, Golden Yolks by BabblingBookends / @babblingbookends

Words between Dick and Bruce have never been easy. Dick talks, Bruce doesn’t listen. Bruce talks, Dick is expected to listen. Better if neither of them speak at all.

Babbles' words: If you watch a TV show for long enough, there will inevitably be some character moments in a diner, and I just think that's fun, hence this fic!

keep your head up (it's a cruel world) by lookforanewangle / @lookforanewangle

“If the past is anything to go on, sir,” he says kindly, “this boy will be in your care for a good many lifetimes, and you will do all you can to keep him safe, just like you have with the others.” Or, the Batfam/The Old Guard reverse verse au with Dick's introduction to the world of immortals

Lyss' words: I put a lot of work into this one and while I know reverse verse isn't everyone's cup of tea, I think it works best in this universe in this order, with many surprises yet to come, and room for this universe to grow!

A Promise to Stay by xerzi / @xerziartblog

No one needed Tim Drake, but Tim Drake still needed to be needed. And well, who better to choose than the one person who could never stop needing him? So inherently broken that his job would never be finished. Yet so unfortunately resilient that he would never be left the sole survivor. And so desperate to serve that he would never be betrayed again. In other words, no one else needed Tim Drake, but certainly, he knew there was someone who could make use of his particular skill set. - Tim Drake, 12-year-old independent adult, professional birdwatcher, is offered everything he’s ever wanted…for the low, low price of his verbal agreement. All he has to do is say yes.

Xerzi's words: I just want to put Tim Drake in a jar and try to figure out what's wrong with him…so I put TWO Tim Drakes in the same jar so they can work together to figure out what's wrong with them (and how to fix it)

The End of Man by AuroraKant / @sassydefendorflower

Dick Grayson wasn’t meant to be caged in, but then again… Dick Grayson wasn’t a murderer, and look at him now. (was this what insanity felt like?) Dick Grayson gets captured, forced to shift, and put into a cage - surely, this is the worst that can happen?

Aurora's words: Look... I always wanted to write a deranged Shifter AU in which Dick Grayson goes absolutely mental. What can I say? I love it when my boy is broken and covered in blood <3

Catching Stars and Comets by Faeriekit

From this tumblr prompt: "Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damian oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior."

Faeriekit's words: it's been a fun AU to work on, I hope people enjoy it, also it's got kids. It's basically an ageswap!AU where all the batkids are "villains" without Bruce's influence. And it was either this fic or the bees.

cardboard box by A_Canceled_Stamp / @a-canceled-stamp

Robin!Tim is exposed to Ivy's cuddle pollen. For the first time, he reaches out to Bruce for help. How he wishes he hadn't.

Stamp's words: this is my first hurt/no comfort fic and I am very happy with how it turned out! The comments I've gotten on it always make me cackle lmao

a flower called you has bloomed by dottie_dc / @dottie-wan-kenobi

The real problem is that, well. Last time Tim went undercover, he kind of… came home and embarrassed himself. It’s not that he’s shy about being seen in disguise, okay? They can all tease him all they want but it doesn’t bother him. He has way more blackmail on his siblings than they do him, so whatever. It’s just… Caroline Hill is a different story.

Dottie's words: I saw the inspo art and it gave me immediate motivation to write something, which was really fun. I loved writing it and seeing people in the comments be able to relate. queer headcanons my beloved <3

Of The Covenant by Kgraces / @kgraces

Dick Grayson is many things, and foremost among those, he's a detective. He can't stop himself from noticing things about Tim Drake — things that make him question not only his home life but his relationship with Bruce Wayne, too. (Things spiral from there.)

Gracie's words: I’m gonna toss my current longfic your way so hopefully it motivates me to work on it more lmao. It’s a Dick & Tim fic where Dick basically takes a look at all the adults in Tim’s life and goes “is anyone going to take care of this feral, unsupervised child? No? Guess he’s my responsibility now.”

Now and Then by librarylexicon / @librarylexicon

Dick’s spent the past few months recovering from an ordeal he’d rather not think about, so when Bruce asks him to spend quality time with Tim outside of their masks, he instantly agrees. Amid conversations, itineraries, nightmares, photos, revelations and a whole lot of chocolate, he and Tim navigate the Great Ocean Road—and learn more about themselves and each other along the way.

lily's words: Dick and Tim are my favourite Batboys, so I've been wanting to write a fic about them for a long time, because of their long history and close brotherly relationship in the comics. This story is a love letter to their bond, and I'm very pleased with the way all the emotional whump turned out!

How to tape a card castle by Fleur_de_Violette / @fleur-de-violette

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Violette's words: This is my longest published fic so far ! I really enjoyed writing it, both the Robin Jason and Dick part and the little case stories in between and I'm happy about how it turned out!

See You At Your Worst by wildsofmarch / @wildsofmarch

Dick has only been a mob enforcer for six months, but delivering a shipment of guns to an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham should have been easy. All he needs to do is win the man's trust and secure him as a repeat customer. Unfortunately, the Red Hood is not impressed with him.

Wilds' words: I like this one because I go ham with the identity porn!

The Nature of Things by FidotheFinch / @fidothefinch

After a mission gone wrong and a spat with Drake, Robin is benched. Worse than that: Damian is grounded. As serendipity would have it, it gives Damian the opportunity to facilitate the rehabilitation of the manor's new ward, a dog Batman rescued from a fighting ring.

Fido's words: I got to memorialize pieces of my childhood pups in this story, and it was my first fic in the fandom

in vitro by genericlesbian72 / @femmescooter

Shadow-girl did not know much. She didn't need to. But she knew her first kill would be for the baby.

Hedgehog's words: This fic was a challenge to myself on how Cassandra would view her first kill, without words to describe it, while also a take on ‘joining the Batfamily early’ for her that I haven’t seen much before.

this one takes the cake by carol_in_au / @carol-in-au

Jason took a sip from his glass, slowly, synching it with Bruce's words. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued with an authoriative tone that was so not him. "I have something to announce." Bruce Wayne has an announcement to make

Chrys' words: It's fast-paced, has a good comedic timing, a bit of fluff in some moments. When I reread it, I found it pleasant to read and I was quite happy I created it

presumptions by Valkirin / @valkirinii

Batman is away on a long mission with the Justice League when Red Hood attacks Robin in Titans Tower. Red Hood thinks that hurting Robin will get Batman's attention. He doesn't expect Nightwing. Nightwing doesn't know what to expect from Red Hood, Gotham's newest rogue.

Trixie's words: It's one of my favorites that doesn't seem to get as much attention. It's also really fun to let Dick Grayson be angry and intimidating.

Operation Friendship Helmet by goldenraeofsun / @raeofsoleil

When Red Hood meets Dick, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Maybe, if Dick plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer he gets to Hood, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar?

Rae's words: This is the first time I really dove into my favorite trope, secret identities, complete with a big reveal at the end.

Roadtrip to Nowhere by Ghxst_Bird / @ghost-bxrd

“For the last time, I’m not modifying a car we’ll be ditching a few towns over.” “Why, you got better things to do?” “Yeah, getting food on the table, you leech.” Jason goes on an impromptu road trip with an ex-Talon and ends up running into a family member… who still thinks he’s dead. Oops.

Ghost's words: Calvin Rose deserves more love in this fandom!

Q is for Quintessential by writergeek / @writergeek

"Rodney...you're talking about altering the timeline here." Well...yeah. Wasn't that the point? "...I want you to have a backup plan." Of course he had a backup plan. At this point he could probably list them all by alphabetical order. Or...the story of the backup plan(s) Rodney never wanted to use to save 12 days 25 years 48000 years mankind.

WG's words: not a DC fic, it actually comes from my old fandom, SGA. i just... i enjoy the time loop shenanigans and the fixit nature of it (which needs fixing only bc i broke it shush), both tropes i adore reading (and writing, apparently)

Leaving The Light by TheCallOfTheSea

Jason is alive, but he has fallen. Can the Batfamily save him?

M&M's words: I enjoyed exploring Jason as a villain, but it wasn’t easy writing relentless angst! I still brought out his humanity in a way.

closet space by adelfie / @adelfie

“Hi,” she says in a breathless rush, then takes a moment to swallow and wet her lips. “I, uh, need your help?” “Are you dying?” “N-not exactly.” “Then you don’t need me,” comes Jason’s lazy, uninterested reply. The call ends with a click. . Steph doesn't know what's more embarrassing: that she's been locked in a closet during a party, or the fact that her "friends" aren't really her friends. And to top it all off, Jason's the only one who can come rescue her.

adelfie's words: I love that Steph isn't fighting a big bad villain -- there's something so soft and strong in realizing that other people's judgments aren't what truly matter.

penance by cuephrase / @cuephrase

After Tim dies, his soul remains stuck as a ghost at the Manor. Forced to watch Dick and Bruce grieve him and unable to do anything, the only thing making the afterlife bearable is Jason. Until the day his ghost departs.  Tim assumes that Jason has passed on. But then the Red Hood breaks into the Cave. And for the first time, someone can see Tim.

Cue's words: i just had an inordinately fun time writing it!! there was a lot of catharsis in the process, and i’m very proud of the ending because i feel like i was able to preserve the fic’s bittersweetness- like the happy ending didn’t dilute the sorrow and instead they were able to complement each other

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever / @jbsforever

In a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party. But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

JBS' words: it's a story that centers around jason learning just how much crime alley appreciates him. it's also a sibling bonding fic between jason and tim

Ghosts From The Past by red_jaebyrd / @red-jaebyrd

Tim stared at an old poster of the ‘The Flying Graysons’ and his stomach dropped. He immediately fixated on the young boy’s smiling face with his eyes bright and full of life; frozen in time in eternal happiness. It was such a sharp contrast to the last memory Tim had of the youngest Grayson laying broken and still on the circus floor. Tim sighed. He wasn’t just at any old circus. He was back at Haly’s Circus where his nightmares had started and never really stopped. Or Bruce is Ghost Hunter and takes Jason and Tim with him to investigate strange happenings at Haly's Circus.

Jae's words: I wanted to try and write my own version of a no capes au adding in my own lore about the characters and their new world.

sons of sky by ScarlettSwordMoon, Kiwilart / @kiwilart

Dick is thirteen, leader of the Teen Titans, and already starting to chaff under Bruce’s thumb. When Bruce gets de-aged to fourteen, Dick thinks this experience will finally bring their partnership back to working order. It doesn’t. And then it does.

Scarlett's words: This fic has challenged me in so many fun directions. It is terrifying and exhilarating to write young!Bruce and to really try my hand at a big novel length plot line. Of all my WIPs, this is the most fun to work on because I'm working with an artist, Kiwili, who supports me during the loneliest parts of the drafting process, and also draws amazing art for the fic. I'm very proud of what we've done so far and very excited to be close to finishing.

we'll meet again some sunny day by Ms_Trickster / @ms-trickster

When Talia rests a hand atop her bed, the sound of paper crunching beneath it fills her ears.

Missy's words: Talia is a character that deserves a lot more depth and affection and it was a blast to write a story in which she is loved.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

November 6, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Nov 06, 2024

Yesterday, November 5, 2024, Americans reelected former president Donald Trump, a Republican, to the presidency over Democratic candidate Vice President Kamala Harris. As of Wednesday night, Trump is projected to get at least 295 electoral votes to Harris’s 226, with two Republican-leaning states still not called. The popular vote count is still underway.

Republicans also retook control of the Senate, where Democrats were defending far more seats than Republicans. Control of the House is not yet clear. 

These results were a surprise to everyone. Trump is a 78-year-old convicted felon who has been found liable for sexual assault and is currently under indictment in a number of jurisdictions. He refused to leave office peacefully when voters elected President Joe Biden in 2020, instead launching an unprecedented attack on the U.S. Capitol to stop the counting of electoral votes, and said during his campaign that he would be a “dictator” on his first day in office.  

Pollsters thought the race would be very close but showed increasing momentum for Harris, and Harris’s team expressed confidence during the day. By posting on social media—with no evidence—that the voting in Pennsylvania was rigged, Trump himself suggested he expected he would lose the popular vote, at least, as he did in 2016 and 2020. 

But in 2024, it appears a majority of American voters chose to put Trump back into office. 

Harris and her running mate, Minnesota governor Tim Walz, offered a message of unity, the expansion of the economic policies that have made the U.S. economy the strongest in the world in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, and the creation of an “opportunity economy” that echoed many of the policies Republicans used to embrace. Trump vowed to take revenge on his enemies and to return the country to the neoliberal policies President Joe Biden had rejected in favor of investing in the middle class.

When he took office, Biden acknowledged that democracy was in danger around the globe, as authoritarians like Russian president Vladimir Putin and China’s president Xi Jinping  maintained that democracy was obsolete and must be replaced by autocracies. Russia set out to undermine the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) that enforced the rules-based international order that stood against Russian expansion. 

Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán, who overturned democracy in his own country, explained that the historical liberal democracy of the United States weakens a nation because the equality it champions means treating immigrants, LGBTQ+ individuals, and women as equal to men, thus ending traditionally patriarchal society.

In place of democracy, Orbán champions “illiberal democracy,” or “Christian democracy.” This form of government holds nominal elections, although their outcome is preordained because the government controls all the media and has silenced opposition. Orbán’s model of minority rule promises a return to a white-dominated, religiously based society, and he has pushed his vision by eliminating the independent press, cracking down on political opposition, getting rid of the rule of law, and dominating the economy with a group of crony oligarchs. 

In order to strengthen democracy at home and abroad, Biden worked to show that it delivered for ordinary Americans. He and the Democrats passed groundbreaking legislation to invest in rebuilding roads and bridges and build new factories to usher in green energy. They defended unions and used the Federal Trade Commission to break up monopolies and return more economic power to consumers. 

Their system worked. It created record low unemployment rates, lifted wages for the bottom 80% of Americans, and built the strongest economy in the world in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, setting multiple stock market records.  But that success turned out not to be enough to protect democracy. 

In contrast, Trump promised he would return to the ideology of the era before 2021, when leaders believed in relying on markets to order the economy with the idea that wealthy individuals would invest more efficiently than if the government regulated business or skewed markets with targeted investment (in green energy, for example). Trump vowed to cut taxes for the wealthy and corporations and to make up lost revenue through tariffs, which he incorrectly insists are paid by foreign countries; tariffs are paid by U.S. consumers. 

For policies, Trump’s campaign embraced the Project 2025 agenda led by the right-wing Heritage Foundation, which has close ties to Orbán. That plan calls for getting rid of the nonpartisan civil service the U.S. has had since 1883 and for making both the Department of Justice and the military partisan instruments of a strong president, much as Orbán did in Hungary. It also calls for instituting religious rule, including an end to abortion rights, across the U.S. Part of the idea of “purifying” the country is the deportation of undocumented immigrants: Trump promised to deport 20 million people at an estimated cost of $88 billion to $315 billion a year. 

That is what voters chose.

Pundits today have spent time dissecting the election results, many trying to find the one tweak that would have changed the outcome, and suggesting sweeping solutions to the Democrats’ obvious inability to attract voters. There is no doubt that a key factor in voters’ swing to Trump is that they associated the inflation of the post-pandemic months with Biden and turned the incumbents out, a phenomenon seen all over the world.

There is also no doubt that both racism and sexism played an important role in Harris’s defeat. 

But my own conclusion is that both of those things were amplified by the flood of disinformation that has plagued the U.S. for years now. Russian political theorists called the construction of a virtual political reality through modern media “political technology.” They developed several techniques in this approach to politics, but the key was creating a false narrative in order to control public debate. These techniques perverted democracy, turning it from the concept of voters choosing their leaders into the concept of voters rubber-stamping the leaders they had been manipulated into backing. 

In the U.S., pervasive right-wing media, from the Fox News Channel through right-wing podcasts and YouTube channels run by influencers, have permitted Trump and right-wing influencers to portray the booming economy as “failing” and to run away from the hugely unpopular Project 2025. They allowed MAGA Republicans to portray a dramatically falling crime rate as a crime wave and immigration as an invasion. They also shielded its audience from the many statements of Trump’s former staff that he is unfit for office, and even that his chief of staff General John Kelly considers him a fascist and noted that he admires German Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler.

As actor Walter Masterson posted: “I tried to educate people about tariffs, I tried to explain that undocumented immigrants pay billions in taxes and are the foundation of this country. I explained Project 2025, I interviewed to show that they supported it. I can not compete against the propaganda machines of Twitter, Fox News, [Joe Rogan Experience], and NY Post. These spaces will continue to create reality unless we create a more effective way of reaching people.” 

X users noted a dramatic drop in their followers today, likely as bots, no longer necessary, disengaged. 

Many voters who were using their vote to make an economic statement are likely going to be surprised to discover what they have actually voted for. In his victory speech, Trump said the American people had given him an “unprecedented and powerful mandate.” 

White nationalist Nick Fuentes posted, “Your body, my choice. Forever,” and gloated that men will now legally control women’s bodies. His post got at least 22,000 “likes.” Right-wing influencer Benny Johnson, previously funded by Russia, posted: “It is my honor to inform you that Project 2025 was real the whole time.” 

Today, Trump campaign press secretary Karoline Leavitt said Trump would launch the “largest mass deportation operation” of undocumented immigrants, and the stock in private prison companies GEO Group and CoreCivic  jumped 41% and 29%, respectively. Those jumps were part of a bigger overall jump: the Dow Jones Industrial Average moved up 1,508 points in what Washington Post economic columnist Heather Long said was the largest post-election jump in more than 100 years. 

As for the lower prices Trump voters wanted, Kate Gibson of CBS today noted that on Monday, the National Retail Federation said that Trump’s proposed tariffs will cost American consumers between $46 billion and $78 billion a year as clothing, toys, furniture, appliances, and footwear all become more expensive. A $50 pair of running shoes, Gibson said, would retail for $59 to $64 under the new tariffs.

U.S. retailers are already preparing to raise prices of items from foreign suppliers, passing to consumers the cost of any future tariffs. 

Trump’s election will also mean he will no longer have to answer to the law for his federal indictments: special counsel Jack Smith is winding them down ahead of Trump’s inauguration. So he will not be tried for retaining classified documents or attempting to overthrow the U.S. government when he lost in 2020. 

This evening, Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán posted on social media that he had just spoken with Trump, and said: “We have big plans for the future!” 

This afternoon, Vice President Kamala Harris spoke at her alma mater, Howard University, to concede the election to Trump. 

She thanked her supporters, her family, the Bidens, the Walz family, and her campaign staff and volunteers. She reiterated that she believes Americans have far more in common than separating us.

In what appeared to be a message to Trump, she noted: “A fundamental principle of American democracy is that when we lose an election, we accept the results. That principle as much as any other distinguishes democracy from monarchy or tyranny, and anyone who seeks the public trust must honor it. At the same time in our nation, we owe loyalty not to a president or a party, but to the Constitution of the United States, and loyalty to our conscience and to our God. 

“My allegiance to all three is why I am here to say, while I concede this election, I do not concede the fight that fuels this campaign, the fight for freedom, for opportunity, for fairness and the dignity of all people, a fight for the ideals at the heart of our nation, the ideals that reflect America at our best. That is a fight I will never give up.”

Harris urged people “to organize, to mobilize and to stay engaged for the sake of freedom and justice and the future that we all know we can build together.” She told those feeling as if the world is dark indeed these days, to “fill the sky with the light of a billion brilliant stars, the light of optimism, of faith, of truth and service,” and to let “that work guide us, even in the face of setbacks, toward the extraordinary promise of the United States of America.” 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[landinrris]

Since you’ve been re-blogging all these great gifs of young Lando, what did he and Carlos find most intriguing about the other the night they first met at that party in your football au? I imagine there must’ve been such a lovely spark. Don’t know if you’re going by canon, but it reminds of how Carlos said Lando was quite shy during their first meeting at the MTC, which is very sweet.

The young Lando gifs are destroying me tbh. The short answer is that Carlos is immediately drawn to Lando because of circumstance (both hiding out from a party). And then he stays because Lando is just real with him- he doesn't pay attention to football, even to the club that plays down the street, so he has no idea who Carlos is. He sticks around and wants to get to know Carlos for him rather than because Carlos might be able to get him match tickets or a tour of the club. Lando definitely gets more confident over time, but Carlos makes him a little wild from the start.

The long answer is that I have written this part, so why not a little prequel action! Takes place while Carlos and Brentford are still in the Championship League rather than the Premier League.

-----

If Carlos had a choice, he would not be at a house party right now. A house party after playing an away match three hours away that was grueling and maybe the longest ninety minutes of Carlos’ life to date. They’d barely come out on top, a fact about half the guys wanted to celebrate after a rocky start to the season. 

Pierre had somehow managed to convince him to come out. Carlos was the captain after all, and his tagging along would be that much more of a morale boost. Plus, it’s not like the party was a total stranger’s. The house belonged to some kid Marcus knew who was busy being productive in uni. 

So, Carlos swallowed his pride, resolved to stand in the corner with a beer or two, and provide moral support to whoever needed it.

The house itself is modest. It’s close by the university— small and shared by three guys whose parents names are probably on the deed. The party already looks like it’s in full swing, and Carlos wonders how long it’ll be until the police are called.

A few people recognize and cheer when they see them, but for the most part, the party goes on as it had. Pros and cons about not being in the Premier League, Carlos supposes.

Carlos loses Daniel and Pierre pretty quickly and is sure he lost track of Liam and Marcus before they ever got into the Ubers to come over.

He sighs as he takes in everyone around him. He’s probably not much older than half the people here— certainly closer in age than Daniel is to everyone, but that doesn’t mean Carlos feels connected. He knows he looks older than he is, not helped by his clothing choices— jeans and a navy henley. Not that he has much better “going out” options, but still.

The lights are half out in the living room, spilling out into the back garden where he sees plenty of people chatting and playing some kind of yard game. 

In the distance, he sees the glow of what must be the kitchen and heads in that direction. The sacred place. The holy land. As much as he’ll hate it, maybe he can linger in there and someone will make small talk with him. He’s not always overly thrilled to talk about football when he’s not required to, but maybe that would help pass the time now.

The kitchen is small— proportionate to match what Carlos judges to the rest of the house. It’s plain to see boys live here, though they’ve tried to clean up as best as they can. The appliances are begging to be replaced, the coils on the stove rust colored with age and definitely not level. The cabinets are white clapboard as well with dull brass knobs. Carlos didn’t go to uni, but he’s no stranger to the cheapness of a setup.

On the far counter sits a few bottles of liquor and juice. If one was more lazy, a sports drink cooler sits next to that, undoubtedly containing a concoction Carlos could only dream of. He’s not looking to fall victim to alcohol poisoning though. 

As if someone in the room could read his mind, a voice speaks up from behind him. “There’s some beer in the fridge if you want something less caustic.”

He turns around to see who’s just spoken to him and finds a boy sitting up on the countertop next to the stove, a plastic cup in his hand and the heels of his feet resting against the bottom cabinet door. 

Carlos spends more than a few seconds staring, but he can’t help it.

The kid— because he looks like a kid— has frizzy brown hair that looks like it’s trying its hardest to do something against the laws of nature. Even in the yellowish light of the kitchen, Carlos can tell his eyes are mesmerizing and hard to explain. His face is dotted with what looks like a combination of freckles and acne. 

Carlos wordlessly turns to the fridge, pulls out the first beer he finds, and floats over to the other side of the kitchen helplessly.

“Thanks,” he tilts the bottle in the guy’s direction and looks around for a bottle opener. 

“Behind the liquor bottles.”

Carlos needs to get his head out of his ass because the bottle opener isn’t even hiding. He does spare a glance at what he’s about to put in his mouth and figures he’s had worse.

“Did you know those beers were there because they are supposed to be drunken or because you are one of the people throwing this party?”

“Probably no to both. My roommate dragged me here because he’s friends with the guys throwing it. I just snooped in retaliation. Don’t know why they’re there.”

Carlos can’t help but laugh disbelievingly. He props his hip against the stove a few feet to the guy’s right like he’s posting up residence. “Well then, I thank you…”

“Lando, not much of a party guy.” He sticks his hand out in introduction, and Carlos can’t help but take it. He repeats Lando’s name to himself in his head a few times, mind rolling over the n and d like it's some foreign word he's learning for the first time.

“Nice to meet you, Lando. I’m Carlos, also not much of a party guy.”

“Did you also get dragged here or are you just a masochist?”

“No, I am also here with friends, but they disappeared almost as soon as we walked through the door. One of them knows one of the people who lives here. I guess. My plan was to just hide in a corner with a beer for an hour and then make a quiet getaway.”

“Well, it’s not much of a corner, but it is relatively quiet in here.”

“I am touched you would share your space. So you are in uni then?”

Carlos tells himself it’s not a crime to make small talk despite feeling like a dinosaur around people a few years younger than himself. There’s just something in this Lando guy’s eyes that has Carlos leaning in closer and wanting to know more. It doesn’t hurt that he’s cute on top of the strange pull.

“Yeah, it’s my first year. I live down on campus with a few people. It’s been decent so far. Mostly spent this term trying to get my bearings and figure out what’s going on.” He glances down into his cup, and Carlos suddenly wonders if he’s even old enough to drink. Carlos should probably leave him alone.

“And what are you wanting to do?” he asks instead.

“Art— sculpture and pottery more specifically. I like making things and getting my hands dirty, you know? Something tells me you are not in uni though.” Lando purses his lips like he’s only now coming to the realization and is somewhat dismayed by it.

Maybe Carlos’ face revealed too much.

He bends his head down and smiles ruefully. “Ah, no, I am not. I just turned twenty-two. I suppose this makes me a bit of a loser being at this kind of party.”

Lando shrugs. “Maybe. I doubt hiding in the kitchen helps that.”

Carlos laughs. “Fair. Does this also make you a loser?”

Lando scoffs in what looks like mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. They’re all just…” he gestures elsewhere, “Making out with girls somewhere else. Also not really my thing.”

“Randomly making out or the girls? Because if it’s just the making out, I’m sure there are plenty out there who would get to know you first,” Carlos asks before he can stop himself. He’s not even drunk and here he is asking about Lando’s sexuality.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “Uh… no, it’s the girls. Not really my scene, and I’d rather not find out which of the guys’ it is either. Not a few weeks into my first year.”

Carlos hates the way his heart skips a beat. “I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like it is better to stay quiet than open yourself up to people who can judge and hurt you.” He doesn’t know why he admits as such to a complete stranger. He’s not out publicly, and just because Lando didn’t say I know when Carlos introduced himself doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who Carlos is. For all he knows, Lando could go online later and tell everyone that Brentford’s captain is gay.

Lando doesn’t look surprised though. He doesn’t reach for his phone to tell the world. If anything, his eyes are understanding in a way that strips Carlos bare.

“Have you found someone? Who doesn’t do that to you?” Lando asks. 

He sounds like he’s asking partly out of his own curiosity and partly for Carlos’ well-being. 

“My family and some close friends know. But if you are asking if I have a boyfriend, no I do not.” Carlos will not admit to reveling in the way Lando’s cheeks redden. It’s like he didn’t expect for Carlos to figure him out quite so easily. 

Lando nods and takes a gulp of his drink. Carlos can’t help but look on amused and sip at his own.

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry.”

For an unbearable second, Lando looks like he’s about to hop down from the counter and flee, which is the opposite of what Carlos wants.

“You didn’t pry, it’s fine.” When Lando looks unconvinced, Carlos repeats himself. “Lando, it’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry.” He wonders if Lando expects him to ask the question in return even if he admitted he was essentially single a few minutes prior. But Carlos won’t let himself open up any kind of possibility with Lando right now. Not before—

“How old are you, anyway?”

Carlos is about to wonder why Lando looks suddenly morose at Carlos’ question before he answers. “I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

Carlos almost chokes on his drink. “I thought you said you were in uni.”

“I skipped a year and I have a late birthday.” Lando sighs and leans his head back on the cabinet behind him. “It always freaks people out.”

It’s understandable, especially while Lando’s still young. “I can imagine. I didn’t mean to be like other people. It just surprised me. How was that for you?”

Because Carlos finds that he wants to hear and wants to still learn everything about Lando even if it’s only for friendship right now. Lando may be mesmerizing, but Carlos can and will control himself.

Lando doesn’t look nearly as downtrodden when Carlos doesn’t run away. Instead, he launches into stories about school that gradually meander into conversation from other areas of life. Carlos steers them clear of anything related to football, utterly uninterested in learning whether it changes Lando’s opinion of him.

Sure, Carlos isn’t a Premier League player, but Brentford is sitting fourth in the Championship, and Carlos knows there’s no limit to what people will do for a leg up.

The topic doesn’t even come up in general, making Carlos think that Lando doesn’t even watch it— and wouldn’t that be something. Of course, it’s not outside of the realm of possibility, but to seemingly click so well with someone in a genuine sense and not because the other person is trying to make themselves appealing because of what Carlos does for a living? It’s refreshing.

He loses track of time huddled in the kitchen talking to Lando. He learns that Lando sells some of his pottery online already and that he wants to grow his business throughout school and beyond it. He shows Carlos some of his work— beautiful and flowing vases and pots with artful designs that remind Carlos of pieces locked away in his mother’s china cabinet. He’s been involved with pottery since primary school when clay pots consisted of connecting coils and pinching a ball out into something usable. 

They talk about their families— the woes of growing up the middle child with multiple sisters. Lando makes Carlos laugh harder than he thought possible, the two of them seemingly syncing their laughs in a way he’s ever only done with a few close friends. It makes warmth bloom in his chest.

Only once Daniel wraps his knuckles on the door frame of the kitchen does Carlos realize it sounds quieter beyond the kitchen than it used to. Carlos tries not to react as if he’s been caught out doing something secretive. 

Daniel hesitates as he seemingly takes the scene in. “We’re getting ready to go, you coming? Most everyone is starting to clear out.”

Carlos looks down at his watch and balks at the time. So much for only staying for an hour when it’s been about three. “Uh, yes I will meet you outside?”

Daniel nods and turns back into the living room. 

Carlos turns back to Lando and takes a leap. “Give me your phone number? We can keep talking and maybe hang out properly?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. I can send myself a message from your phone if you want.”

“Okay, perfect.” Carlos fishes his phone from his back pocket, navigates to a new message, and hands his phone over. He saves Lando’s contact after Lando hands his phone back, going so far as to tell Lando to pose for a picture for his contact photo. Lando puts his hands under his chin and squints his eyes into an exaggerated close-mouthed smile. It’s hopelessly endearing. “I will see you around?”

“For sure. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Anytime.”

Carlos is somewhat morose to leave the little room that had become his haven over the last few hours. Lando’s face might as well be burned into his retinas for as long as he’s been looking at him, and yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. The living room and front walkway are too dark, the people not as endearing.

Somehow Carlos is going home with the same people he came with, though they’re definitely on the tipsy side compared to Carlos who had only had an additional beer.

“Everything good?” Daniel asks, lingering as Pierre and Alex climb into the waiting Uber.

Carlos startles out of his own head and looks to see Daniel watching him. “Me? Yes, everything is good.”

“Carlos, mate,” Pierre exclaims when they’re seated. “I thought for sure you would have left like an hour and a half ago.”

“Nah, Sainz looked like he was having a good time, didn’t you?” Daniel protests.

Carlos thinks of Lando sitting on top of the counter with his blinding heart-like smile. He doesn’t have any qualms about agreeing and letting them gloat. “Yeah, I did actually.” Carlos doesn’t pay attention to whatever Pierre says after, choosing instead to look out the window instead and watch the trees and houses roll by.

[rottenpumpkin13]

AU where bad things happen but everyone is alive and somewhat sane. Anyway. Cloud works really hard, gets kidnapped by the science department and becomes strong enough to be considered for first class soldier but he is… still so small and pathetic looking next to the others. He is allowed to become a first so the company can buy his silence. However! He is purposefully cut out of frame in photo ops of the firsts, his invitations to public events are ‘lost.’ When he tells people he is a first class soldier to get in to restricted areas he needs to go into for his job he is laughed at and ignored. Nobody but the other firsts and a few higher ups know Cloud is actually a first class soldier. How do they react to the little power house being slighted constantly? How does Cloud react to people being convinced he is a liar and a poser?

Cloud had wanted to be a hero, but now he'll settle for doing his job and staying out of the way. His rise to First Class was so unconventional that all he really cares about now is helping and doing his best, even if he levels with the others effortlessly. The other Firsts respect him as an equal, but there's little they can do to change how the public sees him. Except for Zack. Zack won't let it slide.

*Zack is filming Sephiroth and Cloud in the training room*

Zack: Ready when you are! This video is gonna go viral. Just wait 'till they see how easily Cloud can hold his own against Sephiroth.

Angeal: I'm not sure about this. What if Sephiroth hurts him?

Zack: Eh, he won't. Cloud's a tough fighter.

*Cloud punches Sephiroth in the face*

Angeal: OI!

Zack: In fact, I think he might even be more powerful than Sephiroth.

*Cloud drives his knee into Sephiroth's and forces him down hard*

Angeal: I SEE YOUR POINT!

Zack: I can't wait until the whole world knows Cloud's name. What if he replaces Sephiroth as the new favorite?

*Coud raises his sword to impale Sephiroth*

Angeal: STOP THEM!

Zack: Embrace Cloud, Angeal.

[ominous-feychild]

Hi, guys. It's me, Barlowe.

No fun aesthetics, none of that. We're addressing the election today.

I never thought I'd be political on my blog—and, in fact, avoided it except for where I really wanted to get things out to everyone, like Project 2025—but circumstances have forced me to step up.

For those who want to see my actual Writeblr intro, you can find it here. This post is getting pinned to my blog for a while.

So, hi. Barlowe here.

I'm an autistic lesbian with health issues I'm too poor to treat.

I'm currently in a relationship with a Mexican-American woman.

My older sister, although we don't really get along, is trans.

I do not care about my relationship with her. What matters is that she is in legitimate danger. Because of the results of the election.

My girlfriend? She's in danger, too. She had people yell and spit at and shove her during Trump's first term, and she had little to nobody she could turn to for help. Like me, she's chock-full of struggles and disabilities. So much so that I almost want to say she's had it even worse than me in that regard.

But I won't be comparing struggles here; that's not the point.

My little sister is still a teenager. She lives in Florida.

As a 13-year-old, she had people call her a slut for wearing a tank top.

A tank top.

It's Florida. It's hot.

She was 13.

Do you know the amount of rage I felt when I heard that?

I'm a nonviolent af grown-ass adult and I wanted to track down those kids to beat them tf up. I wanted to teach them a lesson to never treat my little sister like that again.

But they aren't the source of the problem, do you know that?

The source of the problem is their parents. The media. The internet, and echo chambers full of disgusting, sexist pigs who reduce women—and girls—to nothing more than sex objects for men.

“Grab 'em by the pussy.”

Did we all forget that?

Did we all forget how disgusting that pathetic excuse for a man is?

Did we ignore all of his crimes, all of the things he's done?

Why? Because Harris is a black woman? Because she's mixed? Because she's flawed? Because she didn't deserve to win?

Listen to me.

That's not good enough.

Maybe she didn't deserve to win. But do you know what?

Nor did Trump.

Trump deserves to be IN JAIL.

He's racist, he's xenophobic, he's sexist, a rapist, a homophobe, a convicted felon, and so, so much more.

And yet here we are.

How did millions of people vote a man like that into office?

I would've gone running for the hills at just ONE of those things?

... but that's not the point.

We're here now, except... things aren't quite as clear-cut as we've been led to believe.

There's an interesting saying that goes something like:

“People most often expect from others what they know of themselves.”

And what did Trump most love screaming at the hills?

That the votes of 2020 were rigged.

And he said to “find votes”.

Well, it looks like he found them.

Or, at the very least, he's gotten rid of Democratic ones.

There were bomb threats called in on democratic-leaning polling locations, machines “didn't recognize” ballots, democratic ballots were rejected for inane reasons, and ballots were burned.

Do you think a man so obsessed with so-called “rigging” wouldn't engage in it himself? Whether he truly believed it or not—which, it's been proven that he didn't, and only claimed so to rile up his cultish followers, causing January 6th—who's to say he wouldn't do it himself to “even out the playing field” so to speak? Who's to say a man like him wouldn't claim election fraud 4 years in advance just to pull the wool over all of our collective eyes later?

I'm not saying that he hasn't won.

But I am saying it's not goddamn over.

There's petitions you can sign demanding for recounts [EDIT: THEY DELETED THE LAST ONE!!!! THIS IS A REPLACEMENT!!!]. You can contact Harris to beg her to not take this lying down. You can—and SHOULD—contact the White House directly.

Listen to me.

Check out Project 2025.

My sweet, lovely girlfriend has been shoved and verbally abused—harassed into literal agoraphobia that she's already slipping back into just because of the election's results—by people who ate up the hateful rhetoric of the Right.

She lives in a Blue State.

Even while my trans sister was male-presenting, she was treated differently—coldly—before she cut her hair short again. Suddenly, people would smile at her on the streets again.

She's since started transitioning, and what about now?

My little sister was physically bullied while she lived in Texas.

They, too, are lucky I was never around for that.

Now, in Florida, I doubt she fares much better.

My friend, who's a teacher in Texas, has been forced to publish under a pseudonym and try their complete and utter best to hide their writing so they're not fired for her job. Why?

Because the MC's nonbinary.

My friend is terrified for their son, growing up in a world like this. They're terrified to have another kid—which they want—because 'what if it's a daughter?' They don't want to bring a girl into a world like this.

And they don't want to risk a pregnancy that can end their life.

People all across the states are being forced to give birth to the children of their rapists... or die because of complications in the womb.

Babies are being forced to die slowly in the womb rather than humanely, through “abortion”, after it's clear they're dying, but “still have a heartbeat.”

Queer folk, PoC, and immigrants have been targeted and live in fear for their lives. They deal with VERY real violence and harassment, even if you don't see it yourself.

This is all the lasting effects of Trump's first term as president.

He and his followers spread a hateful rhetoric strongly aligning with Hitler's before the man took over. They fearmonger and sell out minorities as the reason everything's wrong in this country.

They make minorities a scapegoat, and make them into targets.

Regardless of the actual results of the election, these so-called “victories” for the Right only embolden the bigots to act more and more egregiously.

It doesn't matter if you're “one of the good ones”. It doesn't matter if “most Republicans aren't like that”. It doesn't matter what you think.

What matters is reality.

And reality is: a Trump victory means victory for the extremists.

They ran with it the first time.

What do you think they're going to do with it this time?

This all isn't to sound doomeristic, though—I think we still have a chance. I think Trump's rigged this thing for a reason. I think we need to push for this stuff to be exposed.

But it's going to take everything we have, guys.

Sure, maybe Harris isn't perfect. She's questionable af in a LOT of places, and I personally hate her stances on Palestine. I'm sure most of all of us do. But, do you really think Trump will be any kinder?

Do you really care to doom everyone else off of the miniscule chance that he'll decide to help them?

Listen: Harris isn't trying to turn the States into the next fascist dictatorship. Trump is. Harris isn't showing EVERY single “preparing for a genocide” red flag. Trump. IS.

Petition for recounts. Tell Harris not to give up.

And contact the White House telling them this is not acceptable.

Complain about the bomb threats. Complain about the lost ballots. Complain about the tampered-with ballots. Complain about the burned ballots, complain about the rejected ballots, and don't stop fighting tooth-and-nail like Trump kicked and screamed after the 2020 election.

Don't give up. It's not too late.

And, to my followers?

Let me make this abundantly clear.

If any of you voted for Trump? If any of you wanted him to win, or for Harris to lose?

Then get the fuck off my blog.

I don't give a shit what kind of relationship we've had in the past, or if you liked my writing, or any of that.

A loss for Harris is a win for Trump—it's that simple.

You aren't morally superior for choosing not to vote for Harris no matter WHAT reason you had for it. You aren't morally superior for finding her dubious, for hating her views on Palestine, or for refraining from choosing either of the two evils.

You're a coward.

An enabler, comforting yourself by telling yourself “at least you didn't have a hand in {whatever turned you against her}”.

Sure, you didn't kill the sheep.

But you left the gates open for the wolves.

And that makes you responsible for their deaths.

You knew the risks of leaving the gate open. But you did it anyway.

And, to any of you who voted for Trump?

I want you to know I HATE you.

No matter what, no matter who, no matter WHY.

I consider you all equally responsible for anything and everything that happens as a result of his presidency if it comes to be.

It isn't “just politics”.

It isn't something you can just wipe your hands clean of.

Maybe you don't have to face the consequences for the things that come from this, but I, the people I love, and countless others do.

It's not “just politics”.

It's our fucking lives.

And I hope, one of these days, you learn to regret it as much as the rest of us.

So, to those of you who left the gate open?

Do yourself a favor.

Get the fuck off my blog before I find out you did.

[mrsriddles-blog]

Gasoline | T.R

Pairing: Slytherin fem reader x Tom Riddle

WC: 3.5k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, toxic relationship, manipulation, etc.

Summary: In which your naivety of Tom Riddle seems to come back to you later in life as a not-so-perfect marriage between you two, starts to fall apart.

Are you insane like me?

Been in pain like me?

Bought a  hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?

Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?

Would you use your water bill to dry the strain like me?

Being Tom Riddle’s wife was no easy task. In the beginning, back when the two of you were dating—the Slytherin prince and princess—you were naive. You never believed what everyone said around you about Tom. He never showed that side to you, no, not until you were trapped in a marriage with him. Of course you loved him still, but you also knew this wasn’t healthy. 

It began with him becoming more possessive over you. He had moments where he’d blow up, accusing you of flirting with his followers or trying to get unwanted attention by dressing like a “whore”. You’d eventually reign him in, but sometimes he would throw expensive bottles of liquor at the wall or grab you a bit too roughly. Then it was to the point you walked into your shared room to see him throwing your clothes in the fireplace as he didn’t approve of them, and he replaced them all with things he liked. 

That was a little over two decades ago when the two of you got married. Time never really played a part in your life anymore now that you and Tom were both immortal. But, now you were amongst the descendants of your old friends. Like Lucius Malfoy, a living and breathing carbon copy of your dear friend Abraxas Malfoy. You were talking with Narcissa, holding the baby boy of hers, your own stomach swollen with twins. 

“Madam.” Daisy, one of the house elves murmurs timidly from beside you.

“Yes?” You ask politely.

“Mr. Nott…he has left his son in a basket on the porch.” She says. 

You were quick to hand Draco to Narcissa before you jog towards your front door. The door was open and you could see the other house elves pushing the basket in. You grab the little boy from the basket and gently open the letter. 

“Love?” Tom asks, storming your way out of concern.

“Theodore said Laura died giving birth to their son…Theodore Alon Nott Jr. He has given us full custody to raise him as our own. He said he wouldn’t be able to give him a good life.” You explain with a frown as tears well in your eyes at the loss of your friend. 

Tom looks down at the baby boy in your arms, unknowingly rocking him back to sleep. He looks back at the basket and grabs out the file that contained these things. He heads to his office as you gently coo at the baby. 

You were already beginning your task of making a list of extra baby items you’ll need. For now, you were using one of the cots you had gotten for one of your boys’, but materials like that were simply replaceable in your mind. 

You get Theodore laid in a cot, standing there for several minutes just watching him as your own heart hurts for the boy. 

“I promise to give you a good life, Theo…and I promise to tell you all about your mummy one day, sweet boy.” You murmur before leaving to head to Tom’s office. 

“He won’t answer!” He shouts, thankfully you had managed to close the door.

“Is it so bad that we raise, Theodore? We are married…Theodore said he was already blaming the child for Laura’s death…he wants to provide a good life for him. So, he thought of us.” You say confused.

“Are you fucking insane? I have plans! You being pregnant wasn’t apart of the plan just yet! But, you couldn’t fucking wait! We don’t need another child! We aren’t a fucking orphanage!” He snaps, freezing up after his own words. 

You were quiet, your hands on your belly protectively. You didn’t know that he felt that way. You tried to convince yourself that he was happy, but now that he said what he’s said, you could see the fake smile he gave you. It makes sense as to why he stormed off to his office after. 

“Carry on with your plans then…do not ask for my help. I’ll play no part. Instead, I’ll focus on the children. Theodore is staying.” You say, your voice void of emotion.

He didn’t get another word in as you turned and left. You  couldn’t stay…no, you were about ready to cry. You manage to wobble up the stairs as you hear little whimpers from the nursery. You open the door to hear more little whimpers. You walk to the cot and frown as you see the little boy with tears, watery eyes, and those little whimpers leaving his lips.

“Oh goodness, you’re so quiet. Come here, sweet boy. All is going to be okay. Wow…you have your mumma’s eyes. In fact…you look just like your mumma. I’ll have to pull out the old picture books once you’re older.” You murmur to him as you sit in a rocking chair. 

There was two…one for you and one for Tom. You waved a hand, your magic making it move to the attic. You sigh, looking down at the child in your arms. 

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?

Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?

Do the people whisper ‘bout you on the train like me?

Saying that you shouldn’t waste your pretty face like me?

“Mumma!” Mattheo yells, his tiny four year old body nearly knocking the breath out of you as he slams into you.

“Matty! What in the world?” You question.

Tom, who sat at the other end of the table in silence, looks up. You’ve hardly uttered a word to him since the night he blew up on you. He never apologized…you moved to another room. The marriage he fought tooth and nail for was falling to shambles because he wasn’t quite sure how to love. 

His eyes zone in on your left hand to notice you have taken the rings off. He clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he tenses. 

“Theo tripped and got hurt! He can’t get up! We were just playing!” He exclaims.

“Stay here.” You say, standing as you hurry out the backdoor. 

Tom watches from the window as you break off into a sprint to where the boys always like to play: the garden. He tenses as a little hand nudges him. He looks back down at Mattheo who had walked to him.

“Are you the reason why mumma cries at night?” He asks.

“What?” Tom asks, genuinely confused.

“Mumma cries at night, looking at old pictures of you both. I asked mumma about it once and she said it was nothing and that she was just happy. But, those weren’t happy tears…I don’t like when mumma is sad. You need to fix it, mister.” Mattheo says seriously. 

“Dad…I’m your dad.” Tom says, not liking being called mister.

“I know…but I didn’t know if I could call you that.” He admits shyly. 

Tom frowns, realizing his own ego and drive was pushing his wife and children away. Sure, children were apart of the plan later in his life, but sometimes life doesn’t work the way you expect. He gets up and kneels in front of Mattheo. 

“You can call me dad, son…I know I’ve been distant…and I’m truly sorry about that, Matty.” He says.

“Okay…but, you can’t call me Matty. That’s mumma’s name for me.” He says.

You walk in with Theodore on your hip, his face buried in your neck as he whimpers. Tom was on the other side of her. You freeze seeing Tom in front of Mattheo.

“What are you doing?” You ask harshly, glaring at Tom. 

“Relax, mumma…I just wanted to talk to him.” Mattheo says. 

He runs over to you, hugging your leg. You gently rub his back before you glance back over at your husband who was still kneeled on the ground, looking at you. You turn away, walking upstairs to the boys’ room. You lie Theodore on his bed, gently tending to his ankle. 

You help the boys get washed up before you were helping Theodore down to dinner, the twins following behind you. 

“Is he okay?” Tom asks from where he sat. 

“He’s fine, just a sprain.” You murmur.

“I can perform a healing spell if you don’t mind.” He says.

“No. Those spells we learned in school can only fix minor injuries. It’s not meant for sprains and breaks, Tom.” You say.

“No, no…not one of those. It’s one of mine.” He says.

“Even more the reason as to why I’m saying no. He’ll be fine within a few days.” You say firmly. 

Tom quiets, nodding before focusing on his plate. He didn’t eat, he just kind of stared at it, lost in thoughts. The kids kept you lost in conversation as they told you crazy stories of their imagination. They were telling you of their adventures outside when Theodore got hurt. 

“I have a question.” Theodore says nervously. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask softly. 

“Can I call you mumma like Tom and Matt?” He asks.

“No! She’s my mumma!” Mattheo yells.

“Mattheo!” You and Tom scold at the same time.

You look at your husband in surprise who looks at you. You found yourself wondering what his sudden interest in your life—in your kids’ lives came from? Things hadn’t been the easiest the past few years. You faced constant whispering behind your back. You heard rumors of Tom having mistresses, some of those mistresses being with child, and the list goes on. 

“Mattheo, that wasn’t polite. It was rude and disrespectful. Theodore is our family. Apologize.” Tom says firmly, his son looking at him in surprise. 

“B-But…” Mattheo stutters before stopping as Tom raises his hand.

“No buts.” He says sternly.

“Mumma…” Mattheo trails.

“Listen to your father…he’s right…Theodore is our family. He’s always been a brother to both you and Tom. If he wants to call me mumma, he can…and I would still be your mumma, Matty. Nothing could ever do that. But, Theodore is a part of our family. You owe him an apology.” You say.

“I’m sorry, Teddy.” Mattheo whispers.

“It’s okay, Matt.” Theodore mumbles.

“Theo.” You say softly. 

“Hm.” He hums, pushing his food around on a plate.

“You can call me mumma if you wish. But, I want you to know that your biological mumma…she was a wonderful woman, one whom I will tell you about more in the future. She would’ve been a wonderful mumma. And she is always with you, watching over you. You know…your mumma loved the stars just like you. Next time you look at the stars, remember your mumma is the brightest star in the sky.” You say softly, your eyes stinging with tears as you remember your best friend. 

“I know, but I want you to be my mumma too.” He says, looking at you with big blue-green eyes that reminded you so much of Laura. 

You managed to get through the rest of the night with ease, putting the boys to bed before you went back downstairs to finish cleaning up.

“Can we talk?” Tom asks from where he stood in the doorway.

“Did you realize your head was so far up your ass that you were being an asshole?” You ask.

“I’ve realized that I’ve definitely been a bit of a twat. I apologize, love…dearly. I want to fix things…I want to be apart of our kids’ lives. I’ve put my plans before family for way too long.” He says.

“I’ve torn myself apart for years, trying to entertain the idea that maybe some sick, twisted part of you never meant those words. Then, I came to terms with the fact that maybe you are cruel and heartless. And now, after four years, you want to tell me that you are just now realizing this?” You ask.

“I’m sorry…I really am love…I miss us…you…and I want to be a part of our kids’ lives. I would get on my knees for you. I’d do anything…please, love.” He says.

And all the people say

You can’t wake up, this is not a dream

You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being

With your face all made up, living on a screen

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline

“So…you and Tom are renewing your vows.” Narcissa says, the two of you drinking tea as you watch the boys play. 

“Yes…I’ve grown tired of fighting the advances of his. For a while he was so sweet and loving. Now, he's controlling and domineering once more. I keep living in this dream that he’ll be this sweet, loving and gentle guy. He never is.” You say with a sigh.

Deep down, you knew he loved you so much. His ways were just warped and twisted…it was something you just had to grow use to. There was no changing Tom.

“Why not leave him?” She asks.

“I love him…but even if I did choose to leave him, it wouldn’t be possible. I am his. His wife. The mother of his children. His property. He’d track me down if I ever tried to leave, drag me back and I’d face a punishment for doing so.” You say. 

Narcissa frowns, understanding that explanation more than she wished. She could say the same about Lucius. She had nothing without him though and he knew that. He’d never let her take Draco from him. So, if staying with Lucius meant she could protect her sweet Draco and to give him the best life, then she will stay. 

“Can you believe they are six?” She asks, changing the subject. 

“No…it seems that time keeps moving and we just want to hold onto our boys.” You say, smiling sadly at the boys. 

Soon, you were tucking the boys into bed before heading to your bedroom. Tom was already laid in bed, turned away from you as you made your way to the bed. Once you were settled, you turned the lamp off and let a soft sigh out.

You awake only hours later, a cold sweat on your forehead as you trembled. You reached over to hold onto your husband only to find that he was gone. 

“You can’t ever leave me.” He whispers.

“Tom? This isn’t funny.” You say shakily, looking around the room before turning the lamp on and seeing he was nowhere.

I think there’s a flaw in my code

(Oh, ooh-oh, ooh-oh, oh)

These voices won’t leave me alone

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold

“Are you alright, love?” Tom asks as you push your food around on your plate.

“Fine.” You mumble. 

You found yourself pulling Narcissa off to the garden later as the boys played together. She looked at you worriedly.

“Cissa…he’s toying with me. H-He’s in my dreams…he’s constantly watching me…I hear him when he isn’t in the room…it’s like he’s using spells.” You ramble.

“You use to be the most lively person I knew. A flame that danced so beautifully. Then Tom came along, swallowing you up as that flame could only come alive when he wanted. And he’s taken so much from you…driving you mad and silencing that fire in you…one I once admired about you.” She sighs, looking at you pitifully.

“Cissa! I’m not crazy…I’m serious…he’s playing mind games with me.” You say, looking at her in frustration.

“Right…” She mumbles.

It was a tense silence before she hurried away to grab Draco, insisting she forgot that she was helping Lucius with something. You sit on the ground, staring at the grass with a frown as Tom watched you from the window. He smiles, feeling victorious. 

Are you deranged like me?

Are you strange like me?

Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

Pointing fingers ‘cause you’ll never take the blame like me?

“My boys!” Your husband says, walking in. 

You cast your eyes to the floor, unable to look into his scarlet red eyes, nor to look at his distorted form. You feel his hand on your shoulder that squeezes you painfully. 

“Father.” Mattheo greets snarkily.

“Matty, please.” You plead softly. 

“Did I say you could speak, wife?” He asks cooly.

You clench your jaw hearing him groan in pain as he flies back against the wall. You stand slowly, turning to face him with a cold look.

“I am so tired of you telling me what I can and cannot do. I am so tired of you spinning your web of lies, sending our children out to do your dirty work, and trying to make me feel like I am crazy! I never should have forgiven you…you are incapable of change. I’ve had it!” You shout, lifting a hand as you began to chant the spell you created. 

He shouts, demanding you to stop, but you can’t. You focus on all that anger, all that sadness, and all those years of being belittled. You slowly set him down, looking at the man that stood before you. 

He was young once more, sharp features, those blue eyes you fell for, his curly black hair that was neatly styled…your Tom. The one before horcruxes and losing himself��just your Tom. 

“What did you do?” He asks slowly, looking at his hands. 

“I’ve given you chances time after time for centuries, but I’m tired of this nonsense. There is a side to you, one that is capable of love and care—a side my children deserve at least. You are mortal and I’ll piece your soul back together every single time you wish to tear it apart for immortality. Try to kill me or my children, I dare you, but we are immortal, a way that isn’t dark and twisted like yours. Until you can prove that you are a true leader…husband…and father, you’ll be taking a step down. Until then, I’m taking over.” You say coldly, glaring at the man that you despise yet love at the same time. 

“Y/n/n…love, don’t do this. Please. Make me immortal, I’ll prove myself as we go forth, but please do not ruin my plans.” He pleads.

“It’s always been about your plans and your work…well, not anymore. They are my plans and my work now.” You say, smiling sardonically at him before looking at the table of people. 

“Children, you’re dismissed.” You say.

“Momma…” Theodore says, standing up as he looks at you unsure before glancing at your husband.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Come here.” You murmur, opening your arms to him.

He steps into your embrace, melting into it as he always does, holding onto you as if it’s the last time he’ll ever hug you. You kiss his temple, waiting till he lets go. Then your twin boys launch themselves at you and hug you tightly, both trying to express their feelings through a hug. You kiss their heads before gently urging them to go with Theodore and the other children to the living room. 

And all the people say

You can’t wake up, this is not a dream

You’re part of a machine, you re not a human being

With your face all made up, living on a screen

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline

“Be a little less…haste, Matt. Just a flick of your wrist.” Tom says.

You watch your husband with admiration. He has proved to come a long way and was teaching your sons how to perform some of his personal spells. Spells that weren’t simple to cast.

“Good job, Theo!” He praises as Theodore prefects the spell.

You look over to your son, Tom kicking at some rocks on the ground. He’s had a hard time with accepting his father back in. He was so scared he’d end up hurting him in the long run. 

“I can assure you that your father has learnt his lesson. I’ve seen into his mind and I’ve sensed it for a few weeks now. If you’d like…you can perform the spell to make him immortal.” You whisper to him. 

“Does he truly deserve it, mum?” He asks quietly.

“I know he’s hurt us so much in the past, but he’s genuinely trying. He deserves it. It’s not like we can’t rip that immortality away from him. You and I are the only ones who know of the counter spell. Go on, son, you’ll do wonderful.” You urge softly. 

You step back, watching him pull his wand and aim it at your husband. He mumbles the spell, a bright light shooting out of his wand. The light subsides and your husband was hunched over, slowly standing as he looks back at you and Tom.

“What…” He mumbles.

“You’re immortal. Mum said I could cast the spell.” Tom says nonchalantly.

Your husband strides forward, pulling his son into a hug. Tom tenses before slowly hugging his father back.

“To be able to perform a spell your mother has created is truly a one of a kind achievement. I’m so proud of you son.” He murmurs. 

I think there’s a flaw in my code

(Oh, ooh-oh, ooh-oh, oh)

These voices won’t leave me alone

Well,my heart is gold and my hands are cold

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Analysis of the Trials

The Witches' Road holds four trials, each meant to test the four types of witches that traditionally make up a coven. The trials change the appearance of the coven to match the rooms, and the rooms match the witch who is most being tested in that trial. Despite the big twist regarding the Road (and excluding Rio given she wasn't present for hers), I wanted to analyze the symbolism of the trial setups and what they revealed for each of the witches.

Potions ~ The first trial tested Jen, with the room being set as a modern getaway beach house. It was sleek and pristine, the outfits of the coven were tastefully stylish, and the trial even executed itself by having them do a wine party; it was quite classy to say the least. From what we see of Jen, she's very high-class in her fashion choices as well as her general presentation, and personality-wise she sees herself as a cut above the rest. I believe Jen herself tries to emulate this with her candle business; ultimately though, the business is a bit of a sham that fraudulently copies the all-natural luxury aesthetic. Similarly, as the trials progress we see that Jen can be very crass, selfish and not very "poised"; so, not as classy as she let's on. I believe the reason Jen goes through all this effort is to compensate for her lost magic after being bound. Embracing the high-status markers of regular human society is her way of trying to feel powerful since she can't do so anymore in the world of magic. As a result, the trial formed itself to represent what Jen wants on a surface level, and Jen does take a liking to it, but unlike with Alice and Lilia she doesn't get the personal development the others got. This shiny, rich aesthetic isn't what she truly wants; Jen wants her power back, real power, and no cheap imitation of luxury will replace the severity of that loss. It's not until she experiences true covenhood that she's able to be a witch again.

Protection ~ The second trial was Alice's, set within a 70's-style music production studio where the coven wore corresponding clothing. The 70's was when her mother Lorna started going around touring music and creating the Ballad (the beginning of the end for Lorna). Music was what her mother was all about, and despite Alice's tumultuous relationship with her witch lineage, the Ballad was what connected the two after Lorna's passing. Alice's motivation for coming to the Road was to find out what happened to her mother, so the room presented itself as though it was a physical representation of Lorna herself. To complete the trial Alice had to confront her family's curse as opposed to something more objective, and once she realized the curse was spreading to the others in the coven, her urge to protect them led to her finally utilizing the magic and music of Lorna that she had long since rejected, gaining more understanding of her inner power as she progressed. Where Alice initially entered the room with caution and fear, she came to fully embrace the spirit of the trial, of Lorna, so wholeheartedly that fire plumed from her sheer spiritual power, and she was able to end her family's curse. Alice got what she needed from the Road, she got her closure, while finally accepting being both a Protection witch, and the daughter of Lorna Wu.

Divinations ~ Finally, Lilia. Her room was a medieval castle setup (I believe in the comics it's stated Lilia came from royalty, and her younger self is shown in a time period that could've have these style castles). The tarot card trial was a test of her divination, with the gravity-flipped sequence was a testament to the element of air and the unbound fluid nature of divination itself. The outfits in this room were the first to not consistently match the room setting (Maleficent lived in a castle like this, but not Glinda), as everyone was dressed in caricaturized witch costumes. I have a more in depth analysis on the possible indications of the costumes regarding Lilia in this post, but the main idea is that each costume held some representational relevance to the witch wearing it, and the caricature-ish nature was a reflection of Lilia's self-view as well as an opportunity for her to reclaim negative stereotyping around herself. Lilia accurately reading herself through tarot in order to understand her own nature was I'd argue the most impactful show of self-actualization and growth in the entire story, with both the setup and costumes representing Lilia's life in some way, and her journey being about accepting the chaotic nature of her trial as it is a reflection of herself, and only by accepting herself is she able to find ultimate fulfillment and harmony.

[randomthefox]

You know what would make an AMAZING short animation for Sonic? While Eggman is trying to create a new robot after his latest defeat, he gets bored and gloomy. He's a bit down from getting kicked in the ass by Sonic all the time. But then he gets the brilliant idea of pranking everyone to get back at them and cure his boredom. Eggman would be SO great at pulling pranks. XD

I can picture that really vividly. Camera showing a view of Eggmans workshop in the dark. Suddenly the door swings open with the light flooding in, Eggman stomping his way inside nursing a big bandage cross on the top of his head and picking blue quills out of his butt.

Grumbling he slams his way into his work chair and swivels to his building station, already pulling out schematics and blueprints to start designing his next scheme. But his foot bumps against a trash can which is filled with crumpled up blueprint paper, he fishes a few out and unwraps them to inspect and sees they're the discarded schematics from boss mechas from previous games. Going through each and every design which was attempted, and destroyed. At first with an angry expression on his face, but then it starts to get more sullen and depressed as he goes through sheet after sheet after sheet after sheet after sheet. Each and every one was a failure. Maybe even complete with a little sketch doodle animation on the blueprint paper of Sonic breaking the mecha and laughing in a little squeaky voice.

Eggman slumps over the desk with his head in his hands, tugging at his mustache in frustration. Combing through a literal pile of his failed past schemes is making him gloomy. He pushes away from his work desk and just staggers out of the room and starts idly roaming through his base. Inspecting the assembly lines. Looking over animal containment cages. His badniks manning those stations stiffening up nervously from his presence, but Eggman is basically just doing this meme.

Eventually as he's milling around listlessly he trips on a pile of nuts and bolts and falls flat on his ass. The badniks nearby when it happens scatter in fear of an ensuing tantrum. But he just lays on his back for a few seconds. Then he sits up and looks down at the stuff he tripped on, and toes at the pile for a second. Then his eyes widen and a big twinkle comes to his face and he starts grinning wide and huge as inspiration strikes.

Cut to Knuckles walking around on Angel Island, wandering around just on patrol. Then he struts back to where the master emerald only to stop and gawk with shocked horror. The camera panning around to show the emerald had toilet paper flung across the entire shrine and dripping yoke and broken egg shells from tossed eggs splattered all over it. Knuckles starts stomping around and raging while the camera pulls back showing Eggman hiding in the bushes cackling to himself.

Cut to Amy walking home while holding a bag of groceries, and once she gets in front of her door she pulls out the keys to unlock it and go inside, but once she tries stepping into the house she trips and falls flat dropping her grocery bag. She pushes up with a startle and looks down, and finding that her feet are stuck to the welcome mat which has been turned into a glue trap! She double takes with confusion, then glances up and looks around left to right in surprise at the sound of Eggman howling with laughter in the distance.

Cut to Tails in his hanger working on the Tornado, he takes a break wiping his brow and going over to his work desk to pop a mint into his mouth. Only to grimace and scrunch his face up, then coughs the mint out and sticks his tongue out while clutching at his throat. He frowns and inspects the mint and finds his entire bowl of candy has been replaced with what is conspicuously just metal nuts that have been painted to look like mints. Tails frowns and turns around and then gasps to find that the Tornado is sitting on top of cinderblocks, the landing gear wheels missing like a hub cap jacking.

Cut to Sonic sleeping under a tree in the shade, only for the shade to darken into a shadow as Eggman looms over him. Pov turning back to show Eggmans grinning laughing face as he leans in towards the camera until he fills up the entire frame with darkness. Then cut to later in the day with the camera sitting behind Sonics shoulder, he yawns awake and stretches. Suddenly Knuckles Amy and Tails all show up, all of them carrying the indications of their pranks Knuckles holding the entire master emerald aloft Amy stumbling with glue still on her feet and Tails holding the bowl of nut mints. They all converge in front of Sonic starting to chirp and complain, only to stop and stare as Sonic stands up and regards them with confused concern with the camera still looking just behind his shoulder. Then all three of them burst into laughter looking at Sonic, and the camera sweeps around showing Sonic's face - completely drawn over with magic marker making a fake mustache black eye and monocle and other silly scribbles all across him from chin to forehead while Sonic just looks baffled.

Cut back to Eggmans workshop just as Eggman is sitting back down at his desk, smiling and sighing with rejuvenated energy. Then he pulls out a fresh blueprint sheet and starts drawing away at a new mech design, the camera slowly pulling away while he giggles under his breath as he draws and some jaunty midi tune cover of E.G.G.M.A.N. plays out the video before it cuts to credits.

[sunfloo-wers]

This can only go well I'm sure

I'm going to do it, I'm going to open up a google docs and start writing the fic that has been plaguing me for the past month!

I hope this goes well, I have a feeling it'll either be months until I'm next seen with a novel that I don't remember writing or I'll be back in 20 minutes with a blank google doc

WELP

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Do you think Home and Bardaby would end up- if not friends than at least allies eventually in your fantasy au? I think it would be a real shame if Wally's best friend & his patron couldn't find some common ground. Maybe they could both keep an eye on Wally for each other? I know Home is literally Always There with him, but there are some human(puppet?) issues that an elder god just wouldn't really get. idk, I just think it's a bit of a shame that they don't get along, since Barnaby's the only other person besides Wally to actually interact with home in the original ARG.

oh no yeah! they do Eventually! it just takes a while and some work. Home in this au is pretty protective of Wally for Reasons, and it takes a lot to make them go "hey, you're chill. i like you". unfortunately Barn is also protective (not nearly to Home's extent but yk) so they naturally clash where they should get along

i have the full process In My Mind but essentially: Home, if given express permission, can "possess" Wally (put in quotes bc technically Wally is already possessed by them). this happens either when Wally wants a fucking break / is overwhelmed and wants Home to take the wheel (Wally's consciousness is kinda 'turned off' - it falls into a deep sleep!), or if Home does Wally a favor - they trade the favor for a set amount of possession time. because Home would like to have a body & make the decisions from time to time <3

during one of these "Home has the wheel" periods, i imagine that some shit goes down that forces Barnaby & Home to work together w/o a mediator. and during this time they're trying to get through this while keeping Wally's body relatively unharmed - Barnaby experiences a nice disconnect of "this is Wally but its also not Wally & its also a being i don't like very much bc its a dick-". but through the power for Forced Interaction, they realize that yeah, they have common ground, but they're also not too bad :]. catch Wally taking the wheel and being perplexed at how Barnaby is all "hey say hi to Home for me!" or asking for Home's opinion on things.

[pissfaggit]

local neighborhood pervert sucking on your windows

[mossflower]

stares at my bio

[autumnhobbit]

my parents house genuinely just makes me so sad