#fight against global warming

[awesomecooperlove]

✈️🛬🛩️

[kidcataldo]

okay. these billionaires making stupid life choices is a direct cause of their untimely death, terrible

but the lack of closure for all of us (mostly their families) when they’re not able to find the submarine and know the reason behind it, like

how do you cope, not ever knowing?

[solxamber]

Take Two || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil, once lovers, are forced to reunite through work, stirring up old heartbreak and undeniable tension. Slowly, you realize love never truly left, and some stories deserve a second chance.

i promise it's a happy ending

The night air feels sharp against your skin, the chill sinking into your bones as you stand face to face with Vil in the shadow of Pomefiore’s grand staircase. His golden hair catches the faint light, glimmering like spun silk, his expression frozen in a mask of disbelief. But his eyes—his eyes betray him, shining with an ache so raw that it almost makes you collapse under the weight of your decision.

"You’re leaving me," he says, his voice flat, brittle, like glass about to shatter. "After everything."

You try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. "You deserve someone who can keep up with you, Vil. Someone who doesn’t have to fight just to be noticed, someone who—"

"Stop," he snaps, the word cutting through the night like a knife. "You think this is about keeping up? About deserving?" His voice rises, trembling with a rare fury. "You’re not a burden to me. You never were."

Tears spill over before you can stop them, warm against the chill of the night. "But I’m holding you back. You’re going to be an award-winning actor, a global icon. You’re meant for so much more, Vil. And I—I can’t be the reason you look back someday and wonder what you missed out on."

Vil’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his perfectly manicured nails digging into his palms. "You sound like a coward," he says bitterly. "Someone who doesn’t understand what it means to love. I gave you my heart, and you’re throwing it away like it’s... disposable."

You step closer, your voice trembling. "Vil, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. That’s why I’m doing this. Because I know that if I stay, I’ll be the anchor that holds you back."

He stares at you, stunned into silence, before his face crumples. It’s a sight you never thought you���d see—Vil Schoenheit, so composed, so regal, letting tears spill unchecked. "I regret it," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I regret giving my heart to someone who doesn’t want it."

Your breath hitches. You reach out, wiping his tears away with trembling fingers. "I want it. I’ll always want it."

"Then why—"

"Because I love you enough to let you go," you say, your voice cracking. You lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, tasting the salt of both your tears. It’s desperate and bittersweet, a farewell that neither of you wants but both know is inevitable.

When you pull back, his eyes are filled with an agony that mirrors your own. "I’ll pray to the stars that they align for us in another life," you whisper, stepping away even as every fiber of your being screams to stay.

Vil doesn’t follow. He stands rooted in place, watching as you disappear into the night, his tears sparkling under the starlight like diamonds.

And as you walk away, your heart breaking with every step, you can’t help but wonder if love is truly worth it when it hurts this much.

The spotlight gleams against the polished floors of the gala, chandeliers casting constellations on every surface. You stand at the edge of the room, champagne flute in hand, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Laughter ripples around you, yet your heart pounds louder than any of the polite chatter.

Across the room, he stands, bathed in a soft golden light as if the universe itself couldn’t bear to dim him. Vil Schoenheit, global phenomenon, beloved by millions. And you, just a rising singer whose every success still feels like a shadow of his own.

You force yourself to look away before your gaze lingers too long. It's been years since that night—the night you kissed him goodbye, the night you walked away so he could become everything you knew he was destined to be.

And he did. Oh, he did.

Every magazine cover, every award stage, every grand performance is proof of that. You’re happy for him. Truly. You send flowers every time he wins something new, handpicking each bouquet and handwriting every note. Congratulations, Vil. You deserve this and more. No reply ever comes, but you never stop.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That this is enough.

He spots you before you spot him. He always does.

You stand by the windows, moonlight catching on the delicate fabric of your clothes. Your laughter mingles faintly with the music, but Vil knows you well enough to hear the cracks in it. To anyone else, you’re poised, radiant—a star in your own right. But to him, you’re the person who kissed him goodbye and took his heart with you.

He straightens his posture, as if that will shield him from the wave of memories crashing over him.

The flowers you send have become a cruel routine. He receives them like clockwork—each arrangement more thoughtful than the last, each card bearing your familiar handwriting. He reads every word, his thumb brushing over the ink, before placing the cards in a drawer he’s too afraid to open.

And yet, he saves them all.

Seeing you now is both agony and relief. He knows his worth; the world adores him, reveres him. But when he sees you, every ounce of that worth feels hollow. He feels young again, vulnerable—a teenager fumbling with emotions too large for his heart to hold.

The inevitable happens: your eyes meet.

You catch Vil’s gaze across the room, and your heart stutters. You force yourself to smile, a small, polite thing, and raise your glass in acknowledgment. He nods back, his face unreadable, and you swear your knees might give out.

You’re supposed to be over this. You’re supposed to be happy.

But every time you see him, the years fall away. It’s as if you’re back at Pomefiore, back on that staircase, wiping away his tears and whispering that you loved him before breaking both your hearts.

You excuse yourself to the balcony, the cool night air biting at your skin. You lean on the railing, taking deep breaths.

"Running away again?"

His voice is smooth, poised, and far too close.

You whirl around, and there he is, the moonlight outlining him like the leading man in some grand romantic drama. He’s holding his own champagne flute, his free hand tucked neatly in his pocket. He looks flawless, as always, but his eyes betray him.

"I wasn’t running," you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"Of course not," he replies, his tone as sharp as ever, but there’s something softer beneath it. He steps closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. "And yet, here you are. Avoiding me again."

Your throat tightens. "I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me."

He laughs, a quiet, bitter sound. "Do you really think I have nothing to say to you after all this time?"

You blink, taken aback. "I—I didn’t know. You never—"

"Responded?" He raises an eyebrow, his expression a careful mask. "What was I supposed to say, darling? That every card, every flower, every fleeting mention of you feels like a dagger?"

The word darling slips out so naturally that you almost miss it. Almost.

"Vil, I—"

He cuts you off, his voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to be adored by millions and still feel empty because the one person I want won’t even look at me properly?"

You gape at him, words caught in your throat.

"You left me," he says, and his voice breaks just enough for you to hear it. "You left, and I—" He exhales sharply, composing himself. "I told myself I hated you for it. But the truth is, I never stopped—"

You take a step forward, closing the distance. "Stop."

His eyes widen slightly, his perfect mask slipping.

"I never stopped either," you admit, your voice trembling. "I thought I was doing the right thing. For you, for us. But all I did was break us both."

And then you unceremoniously run, like you always do.

The sound of your phone vibrating aggressively on your nightstand jolts you awake. It’s your manager, and he’s barking something about an emergency meeting, now.

Still half-asleep, you throw on the first pair of pants you can find, grab your bag, and sprint like you’re being chased by a swarm of angry bees. By the time you reach your company’s little meeting room, you’re wheezing like an old accordion.

You stumble in, gasping for air. “I’m—here—what’s the—emergency?”

And there he is.

Vil Schoenheit, sitting in your dingy little meeting room, radiating elegance and beauty like he’s some Greek god forced to endure mortal company. His perfect golden hair gleams under the flickering fluorescent lights, and his outfit probably costs more than your annual rent.

For a second, you just stand there, staring at him in disbelief. "What?" you manage to choke out.

“Ah, you’ve arrived!” your manager says, completely ignoring your obvious confusion. He’s fawning over Vil like the man just descended from heaven itself. “Aren’t we so fortunate to have Vil Schoenheit here with us today? What a privilege!”

Vil sits there with the most unimpressed expression you’ve ever seen, his gaze lazily drifting to yours. He raises an eyebrow, and the look on his face very clearly says: The universe hates me as much as it hates you.

“Why…” You gesture wildly at him like that explains anything. “Why is he here?”

Your manager claps his hands together as if this is all the most wonderful news in the world. “You’ve been given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compose and perform the opening theme for Vil’s new drama!”

“…What?”

“And Vil has graciously come all this way to provide you with inspiration!”

Vil crosses his legs, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “I didn’t exactly volunteer,” he says flatly. “I was informed this meeting was non-negotiable.”

“Graciously forced,” you mutter under your breath, earning a sharp glance from him.

Your manager continues, oblivious. “This is huge for us! For you! For the company! A chance to collaborate with Vil Schoenheit!” He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

You? You’re mentally screaming. The room’s ancient air conditioning groans louder than your brain cells, and the smell of stale coffee is threatening to choke you. This is where Vil Schoenheit is supposed to get his inspiration?

“Great,” you say weakly, flopping into a chair. “Love that for us.”

Your manager claps you on the back, way too hard. “I’ll leave you two to get started! Can’t wait to hear what you come up with!” He scurries out of the room like his life depends on it.

The door clicks shut. Silence.

You turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like he’s silently calculating how fast he can escape. “So,” you say, attempting to sound professional. “I guess we’re doing this.”

Vil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It seems we have no choice.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk tarnishing my reputation? Hardly.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow. Thanks for that vote of confidence in my music.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’ve heard your work. It’s… fine.”

“Fine?” You bristle. “Just fine?”

“I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion,” he says smoothly, completely ignoring your indignation. “Or at least, I hope you will.”

This is going to be a long day.

The next hour is spent with Vil giving you vague, lofty descriptions of “atmosphere” and “emotion” while you scribble down ideas that may or may not be entirely out of spite.

“Think regal, but with an edge,” Vil says, leaning back in his chair like a king addressing his court. “Something that captures the drama’s tone—elegance, intrigue, power.”

“Right,” you say, scrawling Fancy Soap Commercial Vibes in your notebook.

“And it must resonate with the audience on an emotional level,” he adds, completely serious.

You nod, underlining Fancy Soap Commercial for good measure.

At one point, Vil gets up to demonstrate a movement he wants the music to evoke, his motions fluid and precise like the world’s most intimidating interpretive dancer. You’re not sure if you’re inspired or just terrified.

Finally, you throw your pen down. “I get it! Regal, edgy, emotional. Big feels. Got it.”

Vil gives you a skeptical look. “Are you certain? Because your notes don’t inspire much confidence.”

You glance down at your notebook, where you’ve doodled a tiny stick figure labeled Vil’s Vibes surrounded by stars. “…Yeah, totally got this.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “If this ends up sounding like a children’s lullaby, I’m holding you personally accountable.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Great. No pressure.”

And yet, as much as you want to throttle him for his impossible standards, there’s a part of you that doesn’t hate this. Because, well… it’s Vil. And whether you want to admit it or not, working with him is kind of incredible.

Even if he’s the most dramatic muse you’ve ever had.

The day starts with your manager shoving a revised directive into your hands: go watch Vil's shoot. Apparently, you needed more "inspiration" to compose a song fit for his upcoming drama.

Great. Because spending more time around Vil Schoenheit, global icon and your ex, is exactly what you needed to totally not lose your mind.

Still, you don’t show up empty-handed. On the way to the set, you grab an aggressively caffeinated iced espresso for yourself—because surviving the day calls for it—and, without much thought, you pick up a caramel macchiato with oat milk.

The barista hands it over, and you’re hit by a pang of nostalgia. This was Vil’s favorite back when you were teenagers, back when you’d watch the sunset with him after his rehearsals. You shake the thought away. It’s just coffee.

When you arrive, Vil’s seated on a folding chair, reading over his script like it’s sacred text. Even in the chaos of the bustling set, he looks poised, his hair perfect despite the heat of the lights.

You approach, clearing your throat. “Hey.”

He glances up. “You’re late.”

“I’m five minutes late.” You hold out the cup. “Peace offering?”

Vil takes the coffee without comment, but the moment he sips it, his movements falter. His eyes widen, ever so slightly, and you catch the flicker of emotion on his face before he masks it.

You don’t linger. “I’m going to talk to the producers.”

As you walk away, Vil stares at the cup, at the faint smiley face you’ve drawn on the lid. His chest tightens. You remembered.

He forces the thought down, folding it neatly into the drawer of unspoken feelings he’s cultivated since the day you left him. Setting the cup aside, he rises, perfectly composed. He has a scene to shoot, and Vil Schoenheit doesn’t falter.

Watching Vil perform is like watching magic. Every movement, every look, every line—he’s utterly captivating.

You sit near the monitors, jotting down notes as inspiration flows. There’s something about him—his intensity, his elegance—that fills your mind with melodies. You’re so engrossed that you barely notice the shoot wrapping up until Vil walks over, a towel slung casually around his neck.

“Are you leaving already?” he asks, his voice smooth and calm, like you hadn’t just been mentally composing an ode to his perfection.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll call an Uber.” You stand, shoving your notebook into your bag.

He frowns, clearly unimpressed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take you home.”

“Vil, it’s fine—”

“I insist,” he says sharply, already walking towards his car.

You follow, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and dread.

The car ride is quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the city lights flashing by. Vil’s driver keeps his gaze firmly on the road, giving the two of you privacy, but the atmosphere feels oddly intimate.

As you sit there, your mind drifts back to your first date. You were a nervous wreck back then, fumbling with your words, tripping over your feet. Vil, of course, had been effortlessly composed, amused by your flustered state but kind enough to guide you through it.

A small smile tugs at your lips at the memory.

“What’s so amusing?” Vil asks, his voice breaking the silence.

You glance at him, startled. He’s looking at you, his gaze sharp but curious.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, shaking your head.

He doesn’t press, but his eyes linger on you longer than usual.

When the car pulls up to your apartment, you thank Vil and step out, but as you turn to leave, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Vil?” you ask, surprised.

He blinks, as if realizing what he’s done, and lets go immediately. “Nothing,” he says, straightening. “Just… be on time tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “I will.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. But he doesn’t. He nods curtly, turning back to the car.

Inside your apartment, you close the door behind you and slide down to the floor, the tears spilling out before you can stop them.

He’s as beautiful as the day you let him go, and it hurts.

You’re so happy for him, so proud of everything he’s achieved. But God, you miss him.

Meanwhile, Vil sits in the back of the car, staring out the window as the city blurs past. His fingers brush against the empty coffee cup in his bag, the one with the faint smiley face you drew.

His heart aches, but he doesn’t let it show. Not even to himself.

The drama is an undeniable success, catapulting Vil’s already dazzling career into further stratospheric heights. But unexpectedly, the opening theme—your song—becomes the anthem of the year, a chart-topping sensation that has every talk show, magazine, and fan forum buzzing about your collaboration.

You, however, aren’t basking in the glow of success as expected. If anything, you’re moping.

Deuce notices first. “You okay? You look… weird.”

“I don’t look weird.”

“You do,” Grim adds, gnawing on his tuna sandwich. “You look like you ate bad tuna but don’t want to admit it.”

“Thank you for the visual,” you deadpan.

You sigh. Everyone else is ecstatic. Your phone is a whirlwind of congratulatory messages, your manager has been pacing like an over-caffeinated rodent, and your inbox is overflowing with offers. Yet all you can think about is the fact that the drama is over—and so are your obligations to Vil.

No more early mornings brainstorming lyrics with him. No more quiet moments sipping coffee during breaks. No more stolen glances when you thought he wasn’t looking (he always was).

It’s ridiculous, really. You’re thriving. Your career is skyrocketing. You should be ecstatic.

Instead, you feel like you’re bracing for an emotional wrecking ball.

Vil, on the other hand, is furious. Not at the drama’s success, of course—he’s a consummate professional, and his performance has been widely praised. No, Vil is furious because he can’t escape you.

He tried. Oh, how he tried. He kept himself busy with interviews, photoshoots, and premieres, meticulously avoiding the thought of you. But then the making-of video was released.

There you were, sitting beside him, coffee cup in hand, throwing out ideas with that little spark in your eyes. The fans lapped it up, the media ran with it, and now every outlet wanted the two of you together for joint interviews.

Vil could not imagine a worse fate.

The first interview is scheduled for 10 a.m., and you arrive early, clutching your notes like a lifeline.

Vil is already there, of course. He sits with perfect posture, his gaze steely as he scrolls through his phone. When he notices you, his lips press into a thin line.

“Good morning,” you venture hesitantly.

“Is it?” he replies coolly, without looking up.

Ouch.

The producer, blissfully unaware of the tension, claps his hands together as he enters the room. “Ah, our power duo! Ready to make magic?”

You exchange a strained glance with Vil. He raises a single brow, clearly unimpressed.

The interview begins, and for the most part, it’s harmless—questions about the creative process, the drama’s success, and future projects.

Then the interviewer smirks, leaning forward. “You two have such wonderful chemistry. Were you always this in sync, or did it take time to build that dynamic?”

Vil’s jaw tightens. You blink, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Well,” you start, “we worked really hard to make the song fit the tone of the drama. It’s all about teamwork.”

“Hmm, teamwork,” Vil echoes, his tone dangerously smooth. “Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

The interviewer beams, oblivious to the storm brewing. “Fans are dying to know—any plans for another collaboration?”

“Who knows?” Vil says, his smile razor-sharp. “Perhaps fate will decide.”

By the time the interview ends, you’re emotionally drained. Vil, of course, looks as pristine as ever.

“Thanks for being civil,” you mutter as you both head to the parking lot.

“Civil?” Vil’s laugh is devoid of humor. “Darling, if that’s your standard for civility, I fear you’ve been spending too much time with amateurs.”

You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t ask for this either, you know. You think it’s easy for me to—”

You stop yourself, biting your tongue. You’re not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still affects you.

Vil arches a brow, waiting. When you say nothing, he smirks. “Thought so.”

Later that night, as you scroll through social media, you stumble upon a clip from the interview. It’s nothing scandalous—just a moment where you and Vil exchange a glance and laugh at a question. But the comments are merciless.

> “These two have HISTORY, I can feel it through the screen!” >“Vil looked like he wanted to stab and kiss them at the same time, and honestly, relatable.” >“Petition for them to star in a romantic drama together??”

You groan, throwing your phone onto the couch.

Somewhere across town, Vil is scrolling through the same comments, his expression unreadable. He closes the app with a sigh, but not before saving the clip to his private gallery.

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s masochism. Maybe it’s hope. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because a part of him isn’t ready to let you go.

The day of the photoshoot arrives, and you’re running on a dangerous combination of nerves, caffeine, and denial. Standing next to Vil for hours under flashing cameras, forced to feign effortless chemistry, feels like a ticking time bomb.

Vil, of course, looks unbothered—poised and perfect as ever, his every movement calculated for maximum elegance. Meanwhile, you’re sweating like a guilty criminal.

“Relax,” Vil murmurs as he adjusts his jacket between shots. “Your unease is practically a stench.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you grumble.

The shoot goes on without a hitch, until—of course—it doesn’t.

It happens in the middle of a particularly dramatic pose. Vil, perched precariously on a raised platform in heels, steps down just as an intern accidentally knocks over a loose prop. It lands with a sharp crack, and Vil, who’s clearly caught off guard, stumbles and falls.

A collective gasp ripples through the room.

“Are you okay?” someone yelps, rushing toward him.

“Don’t touch me,” Vil snaps, voice sharp as glass. He sits up with a wince, cradling his ankle.

You’ve been keeping your distance the entire shoot, trying to maintain your professional boundary. But the second you see Vil hurt, that self-imposed wall shatters.

“Vil!” you shout, practically tripping over cables as you rush to his side.

He looks up, his expression guarded. For a moment, you hesitate, half-expecting him to snap at you too. But instead, he simply nods, a subtle permission that shocks the entire production team into silence.

With a surprising amount of strength born from sheer adrenaline, you lift Vil into your arms, bridal style.

Someone from production stammers, “We can call for—”

“I’ve got him,” you cut them off, your tone firmer than you expected.

Vil doesn’t protest. He just loops an arm around your neck, tilting his head slightly as though he’s resigned to being carried like royalty. You can feel the weight of everyone’s stares as you carry him out of the studio, whispers trailing behind you like gossip at a high school cafeteria.

The walk to the medic feels like an eternity.

“You’re heavier than you look,” you mutter, trying to distract yourself from the way his perfume is overwhelming your senses.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Vil replies, his voice still sharp but lacking its usual venom.

When you finally reach the medic, you set him down gently, your arms trembling from the effort.

“You can leave,” Vil says as the medic begins their examination.

You nod, turning to go—but your feet refuse to move. Instead, you end up awkwardly sitting on a nearby chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

You tell yourself it’s just to make sure he’s okay. That you’ll leave once the medic gives the all-clear.

Vil doesn’t say anything about your lingering presence. He keeps his eyes closed, his usual pristine mask slipping for just a moment as he exhales slowly.

When the medic finishes and declares him fit to leave, you finally stand. “Well, I should—”

“Thank you,” Vil says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze. For a moment, all you can do is nod before hurrying out of the room, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

Back in your dressing room, you sink into a chair and bury your face in your hands.

“What is wrong with me?” you groan.

Meanwhile, back in the medic’s office, Vil sits in contemplative silence, the ghost of your touch lingering like a memory he can’t shake.

You’re holding Vil’s phone like it’s made of glass, glaring at Rook’s number on your own screen.

“You sure I can’t just leave it at the studio?” you ask for the third time.

“Non, non, mon ami!” Rook’s dramatic voice practically vibrates through your speaker. “Vil has a most pressing engagement this evening, and the phone is vital to his work. You’re already such a dear for delivering it!”

“Couldn’t you do it?”

“Alas, I have an engagement myself. A critical affair, truly,” Rook sighs, his tone more playful than apologetic. “I’ve sent you his address. Bon courage!”

Before you can protest, the line goes dead, leaving you staring at the apartment address like it’s an execution order.

You’re in the car, grumbling to yourself as you mentally rehearse what you’ll say.

Here’s your phone. Bye.

Short. Simple. No emotional mines to step on.

But then you accidentally touch the screen, and his phone lights up.

And there it is. The lock screen.

It’s a selfie of the two of you from years ago, taken on some lazy afternoon. You’re both laughing, your faces smushed together awkwardly. You remember the moment vividly—Vil had just cracked a rare joke, one so unexpected it had you crying with laughter.

And now here it is, preserved like some cruel reminder of what you had.

Your stomach twists.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

The driver glances at you in the rearview mirror, concerned.

You’re ugly sniffling by the time you pull yourself together, the poor driver tactfully pretending not to notice. “Sorry,” you choke out. “Allergies.”

He nods slowly, clearly not buying it.

When you finally arrive at Vil’s penthouse—a sleek, modern building that screams successful celebrity—you take a deep breath and ring the doorbell.

Vil answers the door himself, wearing a loose, elegant cardigan and lounge pants that still manage to look couture. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you.

“You left this,” you blurt, shoving the phone into his hands.

He takes it, his gaze lingering on your face. “Were you crying?”

“No,” you lie, unable to meet his eyes.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

“I’m fine—”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he says, his tone soft but firm.

Despite your better judgment, you step inside.

The interior hits you like a brick wall of memories.

The layout is different, but the details are achingly familiar. The same muted color scheme you’d picked out together. The same arrangement of throw pillows on the couch—even the same colors.

Your eyes dart to the bookshelf, spotting a framed photo of the two of you tucked discreetly among the décor.

It’s too much.

“You did this on purpose,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Vil’s gaze softens. “I didn’t want to forget."

Before you can respond, he goes to the kitchen to get something to drink, leaving you to drown in memories.

You’re sitting on Vil’s pristine couch, sipping tea that you can’t even taste. He’s seated across from you, the distance between you both palpable, like a chasm you’re too afraid to cross.

But Vil doesn’t wait this time. He doesn’t dance around the words.

“Why?” he asks, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

“Why what?” you whisper, even though you know exactly what he means.

“Why did you leave?” he snaps, the composure he always clings to starting to crack. “Why did you take my heart—my trust—and then shatter it into a million pieces? Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

You flinch, tears already pooling in your eyes. “I—I thought—”

“No,” Vil interrupts, standing abruptly. His hands tremble as he gestures, his voice rising. “You didn’t think. If you had, you would’ve seen how much I loved you, how much I—” He cuts himself off, his chest heaving.

You’re crying now, hands gripping your knees so tightly they hurt. “I didn’t want to hold you back, Vil. You had so much ahead of you, so much to achieve—”

“And you thought you were the thing holding me back?” he yells, his voice breaking. “You thought I would’ve been better off without you?!”

You nod miserably, choking on a sob. “I wanted you to thrive! I didn’t want to be the thing that kept you from reaching your dreams!”

Vil laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and laced with pain. “And you did just that. You leaving—you leaving—was the only thing that’s held me back. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. You haunt my dreams, my every waking moment. And I hate it. I hate you for it. So tell me—”

He drops to his knees in front of you, his face inches from yours as his voice cracks. “Tell me you hate me. Tell me you don’t love me anymore, so I can move on. Please, I’m begging you.”

You’re sobbing now, shaking your head frantically. “I can’t. I—I don’t hate you. I never stopped loving you. I left because I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I was so, so stupid—”

“Yes, you were,” Vil cuts in, tears streaming down his face. “So stupid. And so cruel.”

His sobs are raw, unrestrained, and they tear at your heart. You cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away his tears even as more fall. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave again. I’ll stay. Forever, if you’ll let me.”

Vil closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. When he opens them again, his voice is barely audible. “Don’t promise me that unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” you say, your voice steady despite your tears. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay.”

Vil exhales shakily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face in your shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers, and for the first time in years, the weight between you begins to lift.

You’ve barely put the mop down when Vil calls from the living room.

“Hurry up with the tea,” he says without even looking up from his script. “And don’t forget to fold the laundry after this. Properly, please—last time you folded one of my scarves into an actual triangle. Who does that?”

You mutter a half-hearted "Yes, your majesty," and shuffle toward the kitchen. You’re halfway there when Rook bursts in through the front door, a bouquet in hand and stars practically bursting from his eyes.

“Ah, l’amour! C’est magnifique!” Rook declares, startling you so badly you almost drop the tea tray.

Vil raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the dramatics. “Rook, must you barge in unannounced?”

“Mais oui!” Rook exclaims, twirling dramatically. “How could I not visit when my dear friends have rekindled their eternal flame of passion? Look at you two! You, bossing them around, and them—obediently obeying every word like a loyal partner. True love has won!”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the grin spreading across your face. Vil, however, looks less charmed. “They’re making up for years of terrible life decisions, Rook,” he says, deadpan.

“Oh, of course,” Rook says, his grin never faltering. “But love is in the air, and I, your humble admirer, could not be happier. Do not deny it—my heart soars!”

You and Vil exchange a look, both exasperated and oddly amused.

“Fine,” Vil says with a sigh. “If it makes you happy, Rook, then yes. True love has won. Now, will you let me enjoy my tea in peace?”

Rook gasps as though he’s been given the greatest gift of all time and promptly sits down, refusing to leave.

When you and Vil finally announce your relationship, the internet goes into an immediate frenzy.

The official post is simple: a photo of the two of you holding hands, captioned, "It’s official."

But the comments?

>"Wow, groundbreaking news. I couldn’t tell from the way Vil stared at them like they invented oxygen." >"You’re telling me they weren’t already dating? I thought this was public knowledge." >"The tension between these two could’ve powered the whole continent. About time." >"Wasn’t their last interview basically a rom-com in disguise?" >"Not even surprised. I’m more shocked it took this long."

Vil reads through the comments with a scoff. “Captain Obvious seems to be having their moment in the spotlight.”

You laugh, peeking at his phone. “I mean, they’re not wrong. We weren’t exactly subtle.”

Vil hums, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least they approve. For now."

It’s late by the time you both get home, the quiet hum of the city fading behind you as Vil unlocks the door. The soft glow of the apartment feels comforting, like the kind of peace you didn’t know you needed until now.

You both kick off your shoes, and Vil immediately starts fussing with his scarf. You grab it before he can hang it up, putting it neatly on the rack.

As you settle on the couch, Vil joins you, resting his head lightly on your shoulder. For a moment, neither of you speaks, just enjoying the stillness.

“Do you ever wonder why we made it so complicated?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence.

Vil chuckles softly. “Often. But then again…” He tilts his head to look up at you, his violet eyes warm and full of something you can only describe as home. “Perhaps we wouldn’t have appreciated it as much if it had been easy.”

You hum in agreement, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re probably right. But still…”

Vil smirks, pulling you closer. “No more unnecessary complications. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you whisper, letting yourself finally, fully relax.

Masterlist

[batboyblog]

The United States is experiencing scorching new levels of heat fueled by climate change this summer, with dozens of people dying in the West, millions sweating under heat advisories and nearly three-quarters of Americans saying the government must prioritize global warming.

But as the Republican Party opens its national convention in Milwaukee with a prime-time focus on energy on Monday night, the party has no plan to address climate change.

While many Republicans no longer deny the overwhelming scientific consensus that the planet is warming, party leaders do not see it as a problem that needs to be addressed.

“I don’t know that there is a Republican approach to climate change as an organizing issue,” said Thomas J. Pyle, president of the American Energy Alliance, a conservative research group focused on energy. “I don’t think President Trump sees reducing greenhouse gases, using the government to do so, as an imperative.”

When former President Donald J. Trump mentions climate change at all, it is mockingly.

“Can you imagine, this guy says global warming is the greatest threat to our country?” Mr. Trump said, referring to President Biden as he addressed a rally in Chesapeake, Va., last month, the hottest June in recorded history across the globe. “Global warming is fine. In fact, I heard it was going to be very warm today. It’s fine.”

He went on to dismiss the scientific evidence that melting ice sheets in Antarctica and Greenland are causing seas to rise, threatening coastal communities around the world. He said it would result in “more waterfront property, if you’re lucky enough to own.” And he lapsed into familiar rants against windmills and electric vehicles.

At the televised debate with Mr. Biden in June, Mr. Trump was asked if he would take any action as president to slow the climate crisis. “I want absolutely immaculate clean water and I want absolutely clean air, and we had it,” Mr. Trump responded, without answering the question.

Mr. Trump’s spokeswoman, Karoline Leavitt, later declined to clarify the former president’s position or discuss any actions he would take regarding climate change, saying only that he wants “energy dominance.”

The United States last year pumped more crude oil than any country in history and is now the world’s biggest exporter of natural gas.

A clear majority of Americans, 65 percent, wants the country to focus on increasing solar, wind and other renewable energy and not fossil fuels, according to a May survey by the Pew Research Center. But just 38 percent of Republicans surveyed said renewable energy should be prioritized, while 61 percent said the country should focus on developing more oil, gas and coal.

“Their No. 1 agenda is to continue producing fossil fuels,” said Andrew Dessler, a professor of atmospheric sciences and the director of the Texas Center for Climate Studies at Texas A&M University. “Once you understand their main goal is to entrench fossil fuels regardless of anything else, everything makes sense.”

The party platform, issued last week, makes no mention of climate change. Instead, it encourages more production of oil, gas and coal, the burning of which is dangerously driving up global temperatures. “We will DRILL, BABY, DRILL,” it says, referring to oil as “liquid gold.”

By contrast, Mr. Biden has taken the most aggressive action of any president to cut emissions from coal, oil and gas and encourage a transition to wind, solar and other carbon-free energy. He has directed every federal agency from the Agriculture Department to the Pentagon to consider how climate change is affecting their core missions.

If Mr. Biden has taken an all-of-government approach to fighting climate change, Mr. Trump and his allies would adopt the opposite: scrubbing “climate” from all federal functions and promoting fossil fuels.

Mr. Trump and his allies want to end federal subsidies for electric vehicles, battery development and the wind and solar industries, preferring instead to open up the Alaskan wilderness to oil drilling, encourage more offshore drilling and expand gas export terminals.

Project 2025, a lengthy manual filled with specific proposals for a next Republican administration, calls for erasing any mention of climate change across the government. While Mr. Trump has recently sought to distance himself from Project 2025, he has praised its architects at the Heritage Foundation, a conservative research organization, and much of the plan was written by people who were top advisers during his first term and could serve in prominent roles if he wins in November.

When pressed to discuss climate change, some Republicans say the country should produce more natural gas and sell it to other countries as a cleaner replacement for coal.

While natural gas produces less carbon dioxide than coal when burned, it remains one of the sources of the greenhouse gases that are driving climate change. Scientists say that countries must stop burning coal, oil and gas to keep global warming to relatively safe levels. Last year, at the United Nations climate summit in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, the United States and nearly 200 countries agreed to transition away from fossil fuels.

But if elected, Mr. Trump has indicated he would pull back from the global fight against climate change, as he did when he announced in 2017 that the United States would be the first and only country to withdraw from the Paris Agreement to limit greenhouse gas emissions. (The United States subsequently rejoined under Mr. Biden.)

And it’s possible he would go even further. Mr. Trump’s former aides said that if he wins in November, he would remove the country altogether from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, the international body that works on climate policy and created the 2015 Paris deal.

When it comes to international relations, Project 2025 calls for an end to spending federal funds to help the world’s poorest countries transition to wind, solar and other renewable energy.

The blueprint also calls for erasing climate change as a national security concern, despite research showing rising sea levels, extreme weather and other consequences of global temperature rise are destabilizing areas of the world, affecting migration and threatening American military installations.

Federal research into climate change would slow or disappear under Project 2025, which recommends dismantling the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which conducts some of the world’s leading climate research and is also responsible for weather forecasting and tracking the path of hurricanes and other storms.

NOAA, according to the authors of Project 2025, is “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry and, as such, is harmful to future U.S. prosperity.” At the agency’s research operation, which include a network of research laboratories, an undersea research center, and several joint research institutes with universities, “the preponderance of its climate-change research should be disbanded,” the blueprint said.

Project 2025 also calls for the president to issue an executive order to “reshape” the program that convenes 13 federal agencies every four years to produce the National Climate Assessment, the country’s most authoritative analysis of climate knowledge. The report is required by Congress and details the impacts and risks of climate change to a wide range of sectors, including agriculture, health care and transportation. It is used by the public, researchers and officials around the country to inform decisions about strategies and spending.

Project 2025 also calls for the elimination of offices at the Department of Energy dedicated to developing wind, solar and other renewable energy.

Waleed Abdalati, a former NASA chief scientist who is now at the University of Colorado Boulder, said downgrading climate science would be a disservice to the nation. “That’s a loss of four years in pursuit of creative solutions,” he said.

As president, Mr. Trump tried to replace top officials with political appointees who denied the existence of climate change and put pressure on federal scientists to water down their conclusions. Scientists refused to change their findings and attempts by the Trump administration to bury climate research were also not successful.

“Thank God they didn’t know how to run a government,” Thomas Armstrong, who led the National Climate Assessment program under the Obama administration, said at the end of Mr. Trump’s presidency, adding, “It could have been a lot worse.”

Next time, they would know how to run the government, Mr. Trump’s former officials said. “The difference between the last time and this time is, Donald Trump was president for four years,” Mr. Pyle said. “He will be more prepared.”

[mariacallous]

For Sander van der Linden, misinformation is personal.

As a child in the Netherlands, the University of Cambridge social psychologist discovered that almost all of his mother’s family had been executed by the Nazis during the Second World War. He became absorbed by the question of how so many people came to support the ideas of someone like Adolf Hitler, and how they might be taught to resist such influence.

While studying psychology at graduate school in the mid-2010s, van der Linden came across the work of American researcher William McGuire. In the 1960s, stories of brainwashed prisoners-of-war during the Korean War had captured the zeitgeist, and McGuire developed a theory of how such indoctrination might be prevented. He wondered whether exposing soldiers to a weaker form of propaganda might have equipped them to fight off a full attack once they’d been captured. In the same way that army drills prepared them for combat, a pre-exposure to an attack on their beliefs could have prepared them against mind control. It would work, McGuire argued, as a cognitive immunizing agent against propaganda—a vaccine against brainwashing.

Traditional vaccines protect us by feeding us a weaker dose of pathogen, enabling our bodies’ immune defenses to take note of its appearance so we’re better equipped to fight the real thing when we encounter it. A psychological vaccine works much the same way: Give the brain a weakened hit of a misinformation-shaped virus, and the next time it encounters it in fully-fledged form, its “mental antibodies” remember it and can launch a defense.

Van der Linden wanted to build on McGuire’s theories and test the idea of psychological inoculation in the real world. His first study looked at how to combat climate change misinformation. At the time, a bogus petition was circulating on Facebook claiming there wasn’t enough scientific evidence to conclude that global warming was human-made, and boasting the signatures of 30,000 American scientists (on closer inspection, fake signatories included Geri Halliwell and the cast of M*A*S*H). Van der Linden and his team took a group of participants and warned them that there were politically motivated actors trying to deceive them—the phony petition in this case. Then they gave them a detailed takedown of the claims of the petition; they pointed out, for example, Geri Halliwell’s appearance on the list. When the participants were later exposed to the petition, van der Linden and his group found that people knew not to believe it.

The approach hinges on the idea that by the time we’ve been exposed to misinformation, it’s too late for debunking and fact-checking to have any meaningful effect, so you have to prepare people in advance—what van der Linden calls “prebunking.” An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

When he published the findings in 2016, van der Linden hadn’t anticipated that his work would be landing in the era of Donald Trump’s election, fake news, and post-truth; attention on his research from the media and governments exploded. Everyone wanted to know, how do you scale this up?

Van der Linden worked with game developers to create an online choose-your-own-adventure game called Bad News, where players can try their hand at writing and spreading misinformation. Much like a broadly protective vaccine, if you show people the tactics used to spread fake news, it fortifies their inbuilt bullshit detectors.

But social media companies were still hesitant to get on board; correcting misinformation and being the arbiters of truth is not part of their core business model. Then people in China started getting sick with a mysterious flulike illness.

The coronavirus pandemic propelled the threat of misinformation to dizzying new heights. Van der Linden began working with the British government and bodies like the World Health Organization and the United Nations to create a more streamlined version of the game specifically revolving around Covid, which they called GoViral! They created more versions, including one for the 2020 US presidential election, and another to prevent extremist recruitment in the Middle East. Slowly, Silicon Valley came around.

A collaboration with Google has resulted in a campaign on YouTube in which the platform plays clips in the ad section before the video starts, warning viewers about misinformation tropes like scapegoating and false dichotomies and drawing examples from Family Guy and Star Wars. A study with 20,000 participants found that people who viewed the ads were better able to spot manipulation tactics; the feature is now being rolled out to hundreds of millions of people in Europe.

Van der Linden understands that working with social media companies, who have historically been reluctant to censor disinformation, is a double-edged sword. But, at the same time, they’re the de facto guardians of the online flow of information, he says, “and so if we’re going to scale the solution, we need their cooperation.” (A downside is that they often work in unpredictable ways. Elon Musk fired the entire team who was working on pre-bunking at Twitter when he became CEO, for instance.)

This year, van der Linden wrote a book on his research, titled Foolproof: Why We Fall for Misinformation and How to Build Immunity. Ultimately, he hopes this isn’t a tool that stays under the thumb of third-party companies; his dream is for people to inoculate one another. It could go like this: You see a false narrative gaining traction on social media, you then warn your parents or your neighbor about it, and they’ll be pre-bunked when they encounter it. “This should be a tool that’s for the people, by the people,” van der Linden says.

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (My Struggle I), Part I

For David Duchovny’s birthday, I put out a poll asking Tumblr which of his projects I should watch for the first time. 

The Revival won. Welp. 

I then, fool that I am, put up another poll wherein I doomed myself by including an option to watch the whole thing. 

And here we are. 

My Struggle I. 

Oh, boy. 

This post will be long because I'm laying the groundwork for the rest of the series.

MY MODUS OPERANDI

I don’t care how cute or cuddly or happy or heartfelt individual MSR moments are, popcorn will be thrown if those scenes are achieved through incomplete, inane, or nonsensical plot points. Give me 1+1=2 or give me death.

The Revival is part of a whole that includes all of Seasons 1-9 and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe. As much as I prefer to distance this series from canon, the reality that it functions as a direct follow-up remains; and it needs to be judged accordingly.

And, as always, I separate the art from the artist~.

...WELP. It’s time to face my doom. 

Let's go!

MY STRUGGLE IV

The intro’s… fine. Engaging, even. 

I did notice, though: the last series and Fight the Future and I Want to Believe began with the same formula: glimpses from what will be an x-files case, then straight to Scully’s perspective. Usually Mulder’s narration and POV didn’t feature until the tail-end of a two or three parter, i.e. Redux or Amor Fati or… well, even then, it was juxtaposed against Scully’s. 

Scully was the voice of The X-Files-- even Chris Carter noted that her report of each episode’s casefile became a motif of the show. Mulder’s narration was rare, very rare, even in episodes that were written to focus on him. 

A definite and purposed choice, to be sure. Mulder as an active agent in his own story. …OR a story that focuses on Mulder’s voice instead of Scully’s. 

We shall see. 

The intro continues; and it’s still engaging, possibly gripping (too bad I know where this leads)... but the music got a bit LOTR there. Is that just me? Seems… mellow, orchestral, a little more fantasy than sci-fi. Am I nitpicking? Maybe. 

The BIBLE references UFOs?? Lol, no. (Unless you count the objects described in Revelations-- the book, not the episode-- but even then, those are largely considered to be drones, not UFOs.)

Chris Carter, I see you. 

(Note from the future: NOW I see why the Bible bit was included-- lots of heavy-handed "God means this, Scully" in order to get her on-board to join the files. Ugh.)

…They’re really doubling down on the UFO lore, huh. All of which evaporated because of global warming, I guess. 

GUYS, why couldn’t this have been about life on Earth after Colonization?????

It fits with the disaster footage, it fits with Mulder’s voiceover, it fits with the character progression from Season 9 (I GUESS), it fits with a whooooooooooole ton of other factors. 

I’ve never been one for wanting Colonization in canon, but it literally would have worked for this series. There wouldn't need to be a complete wipeout of humanity, maybe just a “disaster happened, but the humans are fighting back” scenario. 

And that would fit with Mulder and Scully’s "breakup", PERHAPS-- they spent so much time working, trying to save the world (she in science, he on the ground or with untainted factions who coalitioned post-Colonization) that their relationship cracks would need to be actively worked through. Not broken up so much as together and repairing.

It would also help CC and co. to avoid the tempest of modern US politics and the more mainstream conspiracies that were taking hold at that time-- a broader reach to all audiences, a "bigger picture" for everyone to unite under.

(Guys, they should have let me write for this show. …I take it back, I’d have quit after three days.) 

Also: The show writers spent all their brain power on this sequence and this sequence alone, didn’t they? 

Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man are going on a bus somewhere.  

...On closer inspection, neither man looks like anything like Obiwan Kenobi, but the nickname is staying.

We’re back to Scully at a hospital-- not unlike I Want to Believe’s opening.

Skinner called? Oh. Didn’t know he was “here” this early. 

WAIT. 

Wait, wait, wait. 

Scully just called up Mulder like nothing’s a big deal? He answered like nothing’s a big deal? She’s smiling over his joke from the get-go?

…And we’re supposed to believe they’re seriously broken up. Which the show will insist is the case. 

David and Gillian really said, “Script? What script?” and did what they wanted. I salute them. 

Also, “What’s happening out there, Scully?” is a great line to point to Mulder’s continued isolation… which the series will IMMEDIATELY toss aside because he’s, apparently, not been as much of a hermit lately? (Granted, this could be a joke at his own expense because he’s no longer claimed by ~the darkness~, but…. I don’t think the writing’s gonna be that clever, I’ll be honest.)  

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

Fine, I admit it. 

I’m loving this so far. 

And that’s gonna make me even angrier later on. 

“Why doesn’t he [Skinner] just call me?”

“He doesn’t know how to reach you, Mulder. I barely know myself.”

Mulder is baffled and a tinge annoyed, Scully is amused and straight shooting. 

THERE IS NO HINT, BEHAVIOR, OR MANNERISM SUGGESTING THEY’VE BROKEN UP. None. At all. He’s isn’t reluctant to answer her call, isn’t sad or withdrawn, isn’t affected by anything she’s saying other than to be teasy or poky. She isn’t hesitant to call, isn’t sad or depressed, isn’t anything other than a little pleased to dangle a juicy tidbit in front of Mulder’s face. 

This is gonna follow IWTB’s ping-pong writing-- they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, they’re fun and in-character, they’re suddenly out-of-character, etc. etc. etc.-- isn’t it?

(Mulder taping over his laptop’s webcam is a great touch and not something at all that I’ve done before. At all.) 

“I thought you were done with UFOs-- the ‘stranglehold they put on your very existence’, I believe you put it.” 

“I’m just the messenger, Mulder.”

That’s GOOD, that’s necessary writing. That’s planting the seeds of what happened between them, what led to a cooldown or a breakup or a whathaveyou. AND STILL neither character acts as if they’ve broken up: no melancholy, no sadness, no nothing. 

Mulder’s timbre became a little sardonic while quoting back her words, but that doesn’t mean they’ve broken up. If anything, that points to a bicker and line-in-the-sand between them-- him bringing up UFOs at the dinner table and her reminding him to talk to someone else about it before turning the topic to how the lettuce is growing or something.

Neither actor is performing like one would if pain and trauma and heartbreak and distance were placed between them; and that really complicates things because the breakup is built on top of the aforementioned list of struggles. 

Would Mulder have dug his heels in post 2012, seeing it as a sign that “the aliens” just changed their plans? Yes. 

Would Scully have seen a pursuit down that rabbit hole as a waste of time? Debatable. The Truth S9 Scully wouldn’t have-- the aliens are still out there; and they cost her months of her life, months of Mulder’s abduction, months of Mulder’s death, months of Mulder’s separation, and the ultimate cost: William’s adoption and their life on the run. Post The Truth Scully would have seen this as her quest, too: she won’t give up, she says in the finale, because he won’t. 

IWTB Scully, however, would- and that's a problem. 

I’ve already discussed, at length, how out-of-character Scully was in I Want to Believe (posts here.) Although Mulder doesn’t escape from the same writing blunders, she is really, really scalped: of her courage, of her will, of her determination. 

Whenever Scully gave up, in canon, it was only because she thought she was holding Mulder back, or when she felt Mulder had lost his faith and trust in her. That held true in Season 9-- despite the appalling writing choices there, too-- but didn’t in IWTB. 

The Revival had the perfect opportunity to factory reset the writers' mistakes: portray a wiser duo who continue to fight the fight according to their strengths, like they always have before Mulder ever met Scully. (When Mulder tells Scully to set up a meeting with Skinner, he adds, “Don’t pretend I’m going alone”-- which reinforces my point.) 

But I know that's not going to happen.  

Scully goes without argument-- THAT’S GOOD, THAT’S GOOD CHARACTER WRITING. At this point in the game, of course she would-- they trust each other, they have for years, they’d have reached even deeper levels after going on the run for [insert math] years. All good things! 

The problem: this will create a huge conflict with her actions later.

(I’m already so disappointed.) 

“Uber?”/”Hitchhiking. Relax, Scully, I’m kidding” was a fun modernization of their humor, I’ll take it. 

This scene is starting to highlight the distance between them, which is all well-and-good, but feels tonally different from the previous scene. As in, their two scenes were definitely filmed on different days, in different moods, and with different intents. 

She’s worried about him, with tears in her eyes; he has his walls up; there’s distance, as previously noted. 

“Good for you to get out of that little house every once in a while”/”Certainly was good for you” is followed up with knowing, indulgent, pleased smiles and you expect me to believe these two are seriously broken up. Nope. I’ve seen Scully sad but amused, I’ve seen Scully too sad to be amused, but these two? This moment? Nah.

Tonally dissonant-- the IWTB problem: at-ease and close one minute, at-odds and distant the next. Hoorayyyyyy....

None of this makes sense for a long-term, permanent (as Scully infers later to someone else) breakup. Nor for a short-term, semi-permanent one. Math doesn’t math. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” she says, implying he's the one who permanently pulled away… which will be contradicted later this very episode. 

“I’m always happy to find a reason [to leave the house],” he says, somberly. 

Both of which are odd lines. 

If he’s happy to leave the house to see her… why hasn’t he? 

If she’s happy to see him, always, but says a relationship between them was "impossible" (which she will later), why is Scully staring at him with heart eyes, hoping he gets better so they can continue their relationship? (And mark my words, this tone underscores her interactions with him the rest of this series.) 

Tad’s here. He’s... fine. He represents the overly cautious very well. At least he hasn’t gone full Alex Jones mockumentary (...yet.) 

I’ve heard criticisms that Mulder and Scully don’t act like themselves in this series, but based off the few minutes I’ve seen here… I don’t agree. 

The essence is the same. Truly. Scully’s got the same face that lights up the same way, Mulder’s got the same expressions and young-at-heart humor. Neither are really melancholic. Neither are David or Gillian esque. 

Perhaps that will change. 

(Note from the future: OH BOY. Which Mulder and Scully are we talking here-- OG Mulder and Scully? Nope. IWTB Mulder and Scully? Yep. David and Gillian? Once or twice.)

But, again, their interactions feel… wasted. Hollow. They’re supposed to be broken up, but their breakup doesn’t contribute to their interactions or the plot. They’re supposed to have suffered and are working back to each other… but they aren’t really separated, haven’t seemed to suffer (note from future: except for one scene which comes outta nowhere), and won’t collapse back together on-screen.

They’re supposed to be wiser and more mature, but they’ll still engage in a silly will-they-won’t-they while Mulder eats up the latest UFO or conspiracy slop he’s either already engaged in or debunked [insert math] years ago and Scully clings to her cowardice like a leech. 

First nagging problem: Scully smiling at Tad, Scully excusing Mulder’s mannerisms when he becomes briefly jealous, Scully making nice with a conspiracy nut. 

…Isn’t that Mulder’s job? Didn't she leave because conspiracies were consuming her life? Does this mean she actually does want this life back but is she playing coy or elusive because...?

Furthermore, when Mulder popped a comment off to a witness or informant in the past, Scully never excused him-- just breezed over it professionally with another question. She’s only saying “excuse him” here because she’s taken a shine to Tad. WHY, on this post-2012 global warming green Earth, WOULD SHE?

Tad says Mulder is the X-Files, Mulder says that “book is closed”... WAIT. Wait, hold up--

Pause. Stop. Rewind. 

Mulder wants to believe. Actual proof is hard to come by. 

Tad thinks Mulder is the X-Files. 

MULDER SAYS… *ahem*... Mulder says, “I’m afraid that book is closed.” …Which means he’s no longer into UFOs or aliens, too. SO. why did Scully LEAVE.

If that’s behind him, why aren’t they together again???? Mulder didn’t know who Tad O’Malley was a minute or so ago, meaning he’s been outta the conspiracy scene for a bit. That MEANS his departure from Conspiracyville's been long enough to patch-up his obsession and ensuing depression, I guess.

But then... what about Scully??

Because Mulder wants her to come back (already subtly established in each scene), and Scully is concerned for his welfare; but Scully thinks he’s still into UFO conspiracy and hasn’t come back because of it? BUT SHE ISN’T SHOCKED WHEN HE SAYS “I’m afraid that book is closed” MEANING SHE KNOWS HE’S PUT THAT BEHIND HIM... BUT STILL HASN’T RETURNED?

And both of them aren’t acting as if they’ve broken up, anyway, except for a pointed line of dialogue here and a brief reaction there before they yeet back to the status quo.

They’ve left that behind them, Scully says, for better or worse. And Mulder latches onto that better or worse, making a pointed barb at their breakup, but…. There’s no writing glue, just suggestion and inference; and the suggestions themselves don’t add up. 

Here come the bullet points. 

Season 10 posits Mulder became depressed after the aliens didn’t invade in 2012-- that’s reasonable and logical, his nature is depressive when his expectations are subverted or smashed or etc. 

Season 10 also posits Scully left because Mulder became too much to deal with. That’s… not logical, since her nature is to rescue and nurture, even when Mulder’s being an actual boil on her sittin’ cheeks (ala Demons, etc., etc.) 

Season 10 posits Mulder’s hard to get a hold of-- despite being in the same house the FBI helicoptered to in IWTB-- and posits it might be hard for Scully to get a hold of him-- despite the fact both characters easily got in contact, knew it was each other, and even joked about the fact it’s hard to get in contact with Mulder… which means it really isn't. (The script doesn’t catch these discrepancies, of course, pretending Mulder is very hidden away at the same ol' house he'd been discovered at in 2008.) 

Season 10 says Scully doesn’t want UFOs to be part of her life anymore, that it was a stranglehold… yet she came along on a conspiracy gig without question to… what? Be around Mulder? But then, why warm up to the conspiracy guy-- an embodiment of what drove her and her partner apart?

Season 10 posits Mulder chased Scully off with his conspiracy spiraling YET ALSO states he’s put that part of his life-- conspiracies, UFOs, the X-Files-- behind him. Which implies: A. Mulder’s aaaaaaall better now and B. he put that all behind him but Scully never came home and C. Scully shouldn’t know he put that all behind him if that’s what’s keeping her away; but she does know because his declaration doesn’t take her by surprise, which means she’s still driven away and concerned for him for no discernable reason.  

Season 11 posits Scully didn’t leave because Mulder became too much to deal with but because she, too, had issues to deal with. This point wasn't mentioned or hinted at in the episode that introduces their breakup, which makes that line of reasoning a complete rewrite. (Whatever. I’ll judge how well that’s executed when I get there.)

It doesn’t add up. 

Are we surprised. 

Five seconds after this, I had to listen to a back-and-forth between Tad O’Malley and Mulder on conspiracies and Conservatives and alien beliefs and the O’Reilly Factor and….

This seems out of touch, I’m not sorry. 

When this show aired, Conservatives already had their miles-long conspiracy theories. For Mulder to be ignorant of that fact while allegedly knowing exactly who and what Tad believes while also alleging….

More bullet points!

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has, supposedly, been out of the conspiracy scene. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder isn’t aware that not only did 2015 Conservatives believe in aliens-- despite the fact Tad is a watered-down copy-paste of Alex Jones-- but that there were also Conservative believers in the 90s (who were a fringe in their own group, but.) This was Mulder’s expertise; and his eidetic memory isn’t likely to have tossed that info because it was no longer relevant to his life. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder has supposedly not been out of the conspiracy scene-- despite saying he is-- because he does know who Tad O’Malley is-- despite not knowing who he was two minutes ago. 

Mulder is assuming that Conservatives “of your credentials” don’t believe in UFOs or “9/11 false-flag conspiracies” despite people from the Left, Center, and Right publicly believing those conspiracies in 2015. 

Fox “I’m afraid that book is closed” Mulder is supposed to be dismantling Tad’s grift; but he (and the writers) sound uneducated and incredibly out-of-touch during this dialogue-- as if all Conservatives were still Bush-era believers. Most were suspicious of the government by this time (they helped elect a man who ran on a “drain the swamp” campaign, after all.) Mulder’s bewilderment here is old and tired, even by 2015 standards. 

This writing is flashy-- long sentences, quick back-and-forths-- but poorly constructed and badly executed. 

This is also the first segment where David Duchovny is peeking through Fox Mulder; where Scully is swinging wildly between absolutely-fine-with-Mulder and we’re-no-longer-together; and where we, the audience, are being force-fed that only one side of the political aisle believes in aliens-- or the Bigger Question or whatever-- on a show that wants to poke at unfounded conspiracy beliefs.

Oh, look! Scully made a Scully-face, so everything’s good now! 

(UuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH--)

Sveta. Aww, I like her--

“You don’t remember me.”

“No, I think I’d remember.”

WHAT WAS THAT. 

Show writers, STOP with the romantic triangulation, it’s NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN. David doesn’t even TRY to make that romantic-ish. Yet you angle on Scully’s face as if she’s supposed to be out-of-the-loop and a tinge jealous. 

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, hoooooooooooooooooooold up. 

Svetta was a dark-haired little girl Mulder interviewed after her first abduction, meaning she’s set up to be another Samantha. 

So…………………. What’s with the murky jealousy issue, CHRIS. You wedged it in solely so Scully would feel jealous over Mulder? Y’know. Like I Want to Believe? 

And I say Chris Carter because he wanted to play the breakup angle:

"We do it in an interesting way," Carter told The Hollywood Reporter. "We put some of the tension back in that was relieved by them being together. It added to the storytelling opportunities. It's something that I came up with; I had been thinking about it. There was always talk of [breaking them up] if we did another movie."

The first shot canon takes right between the eyes:

Scully being “familiar” with the “screen memories” abductees are given was a cool touch… except she’s never been given “screen memories.” The abductees in Jose Chung’s From Outer Space were given screen memories-- she was returned a blank slate. (Even Mulder didn’t have “screen memories” after his abduction.) 

Scully poking Sveta about aliens taking her unborn fetuses seems a tad (heh) strong except all the alien-related pregnancies have been the result of government testing, not alien probes. So. If this scene followed canon's rules, her skepticism would be warranted.

But this skepticism is still odd. 

Two seconds ago, she was making nice to Tad O’Malley in the car, and now she’s leading the questioning for Sveta. The odd icing on top of this odd cake is that Scully left because she didn’t want UFOs to have a stranglehold on her life, yet here she is leading an interview with an abductee.

Sveta: “I have alien DNA, for sure.”

Scully: “Have you had a doctor confirm that?”

Sveta: “No.”

Me, too, Mulder. Me, too. 

Scully doesn’t question the alien DNA bit, so that’s good. 

…I’ll bet everyone forgets she and Mulder have a bit lingering in their systems from the black oil and his brain thingy and residue from when she touched the ship and and and. 

“Something you can test. Dana.” 

What… what was that. 

Honestly, what was that. Whatever mood David was conveying through Mulder, it didn’t match anything from any previous scenes, let alone this one.

Is he poking at Scully? Why? He’s not jealous anymore (if he even was.) The way he says it and her expression in response implies they have a tense back-and-forth going on, but they don’t. THEY DON’T. 

We’re 13 minutes in and I could make another numerical list. But I won’t. Yet.  

Back to not-Obiwan Kenobi and Military Man. 

That alien’s stupid bad-looking. 

Wait. 

That’s not how canon said Roswell unfolded. 

And the first alien shot on Earth was by Deep Throat’s hands-- that was his whole turning-point backstory. 

CURSE YOU, LACK OF A SHOW BIBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

(Note from the future: All of that past canon? Fake. Faked. All lies. None of that happened.)

“What have you done??” Not-Obiwan Kenobi yells… and what have they done? 

Back to Scully and Sveta. 

Sveta can move things with her mind-- not all the time-- but at least Scully is listening to her claims without automatically shutting them down. 

But also…

“I can move things. With my mind,” should have IMMEDIATELY had a greater impact on Scully, up-close-and-personal as she was to her son’s abilities. But nope! No reaction! Of course! 

Sveta “You were together but now you’re not” is asking the right questions. I don’t even mind Sveta. I’ll bet this episode’s the last time we see her, though. 

Does she contribute to anything? No. But she’s nice, so. 

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT, WAIT, WAIT. 

Scully diagnosed-- wait, hold up, list time. 

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression. 

That killed their relationship. 

…THAT killed their relationship? After everything? 

The writers are going to have to explain, in detail, why that killed it. 

Why does canon need to explain? Because we have a history of Scully sticking by Mulder during the worst periods of both their lives-- leaving him would have to require a very, very good reason.

And there is no indication, thus far, that Mulder’s depression drove a humungous wedge between them, forcing her to walk away. In fact, there is no indication a wedge exists between them, AT ALL-- only the odd, inconsistent word or phrase here or there that bears no weight on the plot or their ultimate decisions.

Whenever Scully left in canon, it was because she could no longer help Mulder. Season 11 will rewrite Season 10’s initial explanation but setting that aside: we’re not given any indication that she did try to help him; or that his depression was so deep and so dangerous that it drove her away.

And if it were that deep or that dangerous enough to drive her away, Scully leaving would have been the last and worst possible action she could have taken. If Mulder's mental state was in such a massive nose-dive that she couldn’t handle what he was going through, Scully-- a medical professional-- would have had him hospitalized, even temporarily against his will, because she would know (per Demons or Gethsemane or Amor Fati) that this level of depression always manifested in suicidal tendencies for her partner.

But Mulder, as per the rules laid out in this episode, never went that far in his deterioration. (Note from the future: We'll get to that.)

If he had, Skinner would have been aware of his hospitalization and wouldn’t have asked for his help; Scully would have been aware and wouldn’t have passed on the information; and Scully wouldn’t have called from the hospital with a degree of buoyancy when relaying Skinner's request to Mulder. 

In short: Scully leaving = very big, very drastic measure. Mulder suffering from depression = very big, very bad consequences. Scully's nature and past actions = getting Mulder help, even if he resists at first (i.e. shooting him in the shoulder to save his life.) Mulder and Scully's partnership = unbroken, except through distrust or botched writing.

“And you have a child together.”

Wow, that wasn’t clunky at all. 

SCULLY STICKS SVETA HARD WITH A NEEDLE BECAUSE SVETA MENTIONS WILLIAM, darkly saying "That's enough", SO SVETA WOULD KNOW SHE DID IT ON PURPOSE.

I’m… so disgusted. Like, eck. Urk. Awful. 

Telling Sveta to back off, strongly, would be in-character; USING PAIN TO DO SO is…. So wrong on so many levels. Scully never utilized medicine to inflict pain or injury on her enemies.

Wow, this grossed me out. You know why?

Scully diagnosed Mulder with depression and left. At first glance, that seem like an out-of-character action that the writing can salvage later by this or that means.

BUT THEN, Scully inflicts pain on Sveta for mentioning William, leaving the audience with the impression that she’s vindictive. 

Which then connects the dots between “vindictive” and “left Mulder when he was diagnosed with depression.”

And since we, the audience, haven’t been given a stronger reason for how Mulder’s depression got that bad or why she didn’t help him through it, we’re then left with a sour impression of Scully’s character. 

The writers then try to imply Sveta was spilling out Scully’s personal secrets to prove that her powers were real, but that still doesn’t give Scully the right to abuse her power. Especially because a traumatized woman was trying any method possible to be believed.

And the fact that Sveta is also a victim of the government weaponizing science and medicine makes me even angrier at Scully.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, BOY, another helicopter outside the Unremarkable House, my favorite part of IWTB....

Mulder’s never seen… an alien replica vehicle. 

Oh, my mistake: “No. Never. Not like that.” Covering all the bases, I see. Y’know, in case the writers FORGOT MULDER SAW ONE in SEASON 1, EPISODE 2. 

OH, LOOK, he’s got his wonder face back, everything’s aaaaaaaaaaaaall better now!

Running on free energy they’ve had since the 40s, sure Jan. Whatever you say. 

This just feels so old. Like. Tech we haven’t had since the 40S, GUYS, GET IT, BIG MONEY CORPOS KEPT IT FROM US. Yeah, we got it. 

And the flashbacks to Not-Obiwan Kenobi just walking off with an alien corpse because Military Man didn’t… see… value in studying… it. I guess. 

Scully doing “God’s work” giving kids ears because their biology neglected it.

I admit, that’s an intriguing window into her perspective of God vs. science, and how she sees a person’s biology separate from God messing them over or messing them up just because. I dig it.

(Note from the future: This will be used as a plotline club rather than a nuanced discussion of her faith.)

Mulder being the most challenging relationship she’s ever had-- “and the most impossible”-- is a weird line. Because yes, it’s true that their relationship is challenging; but her fervor at impossible is the only time in this episode we see an adversarial tendency, DESPITE My Struggle I trying to drum up moments to prove TENSIONS still LINGER (they don't.) 

It’s IWTB all over again. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

“Yeah. I got that impression.” Tad says, and Scully’s hurt because she thinks Mulder gave Tad that impression of her. 

So. So. Wait. 

Scully lied when she stated “It’s impossible” because she didn't like Tad poking into her private affairs?

But she sounded truly convinced their relationship was "impossible" while saying it.

So, she was either angry or still confused about her emotions-- which is fine, Scully's not always in-tune with her inner workings-- when Tad replied, "I got that impression."

Which explains why she was so hurt at Mulder's seeming rejection.

Because she thinks Mulder’s behavior led Tad to that conviction.

Which means CC just wants Mulder and Scully to be caught in a miscommunication fic.

Also, why is Tad so sad about this? Were they his OTP, or is he pretending to sympathize to get in Scully’s pants? Because that’d be crummy, Chris, to have her be overly nice to Tad only for him to try to twist that into an opening as the new conspiracy guy on the block. 

On a lighter note, Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully could still get it in their 50s, so there’s that.

HE DID, HE DID SET SCULLY UP TO BE PURSUED BY TAD--

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT--

KNOCK IT OFF, CHRIS. 

Poor Sveta. She’s gonna be butchered in this script, isn’t she?

The series is EATING up vast amounts of time with very little scale or grounding. For all I know, a day or a week could have passed. 

It’s so, so badly paced. 

Mulder’s investigating now, without Scully, because he noticed Sveta had a tell during the interview. 

Um. 

Sure, that’s a Mulder thing to do.

Oh, wait. This is the “work of men” realization.   

The dialogue between Mulder’s questions and Sveta’s answers are really disjointed, as if they’re mildly talking past each other-- another aspect of IWTB I couldn’t stand. 

Welp, at least it’s easy to prove they were both written by the same people. 

The second shot-in-the-head for canon: 

“Sveta, who took your babies?” 

“Men.”

“Men? Humans? You saw their faces.” 

Also, Sveta’s babies are referred to as her babies, but William-Jackson isn’t Scully’s baby despite sharing half her DNA but Emily Sim was Scully’s baby despite also only sharing half her DNA.

It’s a mess. 

Well… Mulder doesn’t seem too surprised here that men were involved in her abductions (I mean, he's long since been aware the government was involved from day one, so.) It’d be really stupid if the writing made him surprised about this later, wouldn’t it?

…Wouldn’t it?

Another poorly constructed set of lines:

“I haven’t worked for them [the government] in years.” 

“But you always wondered… if they were lying to you, too.” 

No, he didn’t wonder-- he believed it.

A wonky way to address his old skepticisms, for sure. 

JUST AFTER I NOTED THAT MULDER DIDN’T LOOK SURPRISED AT SVETA'S REVELATION, HE CALLS UP SCULLY AND MAKES A BIG DEAL ABOUT IT BEING A CONSPIRACY OF MEN. 

I knew this was coming, but maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan that was so, so poorly handled.

SCULLY WAS GETTING (sort of) WINED AND DINED BY TAD O’MALLEY??????????????

I HATE IT HERE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WHAT IS HAPPENING, WHAT IN THE WORLD AND WHY, HOW COULD YOU BE SO EASILY FLEECED, DANA, THIS ISN’T AN ED JERSE PARALLEL BECAUSE YOU THINK MULDER DOESN’T WANT YOU, THIS IS STUPID, THIS IS THIS IS THIS IS

WHAT. 

I thought Scully had dated Tad O’Malley in the past (sometime after the breakup) but this is worsefarworse. 

SVETA IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING, I’M SO TIRED. 

“Mulder, where are you going?” sounds exactly like Scully, and now I’m mad Gillian didn’t use that voice for the rest of the show (voice recovery aside....)

I KNEW SKINNER WAS BEHIND GETTING THEM BACK. He just calls up Scully to call Mulder up, then just unlocks the old office when Mulder wants to get back in. 110% Skinner thought this would help his buddy Mulder. And he’s not wrong. 

Wait. 

Did Skinner put in more effort to save Mulder from his mental health struggles (per this My Struggle I episode) than Scully??????

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-- my brain is broken. 

The hold on Skinner’s face while he says “Can you tell me what this is about” was way too long. 

Also, don’t try to play coy with me, Skinman. 

Now the camera’s zooming around and losing its “X-Files” feel by being too… modern. 

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down is the only time in canon where I agree with him. Mulder’s just spouting and demanding and not really making clear sense and this is why you don't let Mulder back into his basement without Scully by his side, Skinner-- don’t you remember that lesson?

Skinner telling Mulder to calm down then saying he doesn’t take orders from him only for Mulder to say “Who do you take orders from?”, ugh.

GUYS, THIS WAS RESOLVED IN SEASON. 2. BECAUSE MULDER KNEW MEN WERE BEHIND THE CONSPIRACY SINCE SEASON 1, EPISODE 2; AND SKINNER SINCE SEASON 2, EPISODE ASCENSION.

BECAUSE SKINNER’S ALREADY HAD HIS LOYALTY TESTED AND THIS IS HURTING MY BRAIN MAKE IT END.

I’m not even 25 minutes into this, help. 

“Why do you think I called you? Because I was looking out for you, because I’ve always looked out for you.” Is… is Skinner the only character who’s progressed? That’s exactly what he would do-- he’s acting sensibly, rationally, and in-character... and more mature, more veteran, than his agents.

I know the Revival is supposed to be “Mulder and Scully all grown-up” but none of their actions have been intelligent, measured, or informed by their age or life experience. It’s a farce that I hope future episodes will rectify. 

“A decade of my life--” Mulder rants and kicks his poster like a toddler AND YOU KNEW ALL THIS INFORMATION FROM SEASON 1, MULDER. NONE OF THIS IS NEW. WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAT IS THIS. 

I can’t imagine how disappointed philes were when they tuned into this episode. Well... I can because of how I feel; but at least I knew, roughly, how bad it would be going in. 

This is worse. 

Skinner: “You’re blaming me for that?”

Mulder: “No, I’m blaming myself. I’m sure they lied to you, too.” 

This isn’t a revelation, chump. 

At least Skinner confirms my theory: “There hasn’t been a day since you’ve left that I haven’t reached for my phone to call you, Mulder, wishing you were still down here.” 

Feral Mulder is touched. 

“Since 9/11--” OH NO, WHY ARE WE GOING THERE “--this country’s taken a big turn and in a very strange direction.”

Guys. Guys. This isn’t… this… what. 

“Now they police us, spy on us, and tell us that makes it safer--” CAN THE WRITERS GET OFF A SOAP BOX FOR FIVE SECONDS. Of course it isn’t safer to be unnecessarily policed or spied on, but the answer isn't just "boo, the government!" What… why… my brain’s melting, I feel it deteriorating. 

This, again, feels so Bush-era. Like, whoever wrote this didn’t update their mentality. 

Also, the camera shots and cuts are weird. Holding too long, zooming out at “pause and take THAT in” moments, focusing on Mulder’s phone while he silently calls up Skinner to prove a point… it’s supremely unsubtle.

Back to Tad, I don’t care. You did this to yourself, Scully, cozying up only to be used as a name drop on his show. Stupid. 

Is Scully gonna be shocked she has alien DNA? She shouldn’t be. 

But then again, Mulder shouldn’t be shocked this has all been a work of men, so. 

She’s expecting-- no, hoping-- for a call from somebody named Mulder. 

Sure, they’re broken up with hard feelings. Sure. Absolutely. 

Is this old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi?  

Of course.

At least Mulder seems old hat at this informant business. 

But of course, he’s “not even close” to putting it all together. 

Stupid. 

WAIT.

The countdown was WRONG-- Mulder states it began, not ended in 2012, meaning he's believed this theory for some time. Meaning... why was he so depressed after 2012? Why are there still depression concerns in 2015?? Seriously, what's with his depression if the 2012 Colonization was allegedly the cause of it but there is no Colonization and the clock's simply been reset????

WHY WAS HE DEPRESSED IF HE RECONFIGURED THE COUNTDOWN. WHAT.

Mulder: "Not by aliens, not with aliens, but by a conspiracy of men--"

“You’re wasting my time.” Tell him, old man Not-Obiwan Kenobi!

“Ten years ago, you came to me--”

Wait, ten years ago? What, 2005? The guy showed up while Mulder was on the run? And Scully never… knew about this?

There were no aliens lighting each other on fire??????????????????? WAIT, I NEVER HEARD THIS INFORMATION. 

THERE WERE NEVER ALIENS, AT ALL???????????????????? Like, AT ALL????? 

The writers are saying that Scully's experience on Ruskin Dam in Season 5 was not two warring alien factions BUT TWO GROUPS OF MEN LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR GIVING EVERYONE FALSE MEMORIES OF ALIENS LIGHTING EACH OTHER ON FIRE, OR...??????

hONESTLY. 

Let's be real specific for a second: Chris Carter expects us to believe that the ENTIRE mytharc from the original show was ALL faked; that there were no aliens, ZERO, ZILCH; and that CSM and Deep Throat and all the others created elaborate schemes JUST to manipulate MULDER because the aliens weren't a threat from the start????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? DON’T BELIEVE YOUR LYING EYES. THEY WERE ALL MEN IN SUITS.

Like… do you realize how stupid that is? How actually, unfathomably stupid that is? It’s not just “the aliens didn’t invade because of global warming,” no, it’s “they were never a problem to begin with, we just manipulated Mulder into believing they were because… because he’s so important, I GUESS.”

Roswell’s also a smokescreen, of course. 

Y’know how, during the 90s, DD thought The X-Files was a stupid sci-fi show? If he thought each mytharc plot was as bad as this one, no wonder he wanted to bail. 

Oh, by the way, the global warming explanation is part of a theory: the fascist elites will dominate the world and escape from consequences into space, leading the rest of humanity to die by a globally warmed planet. The aliens weren't chased off by global warming because they were never a factor to begin with.

Wow.

I CAUGHT A CONTINUITY ERROR!

Scully shows up at his place in her uniform from yesterday, panicked, like she’d just run from Tad’s side to see what happened despite her saying over a day has passed.

Going to ignore his “What are you doing here, Scully?” because we’ve ping-ponged back to the out-of-character Mulder that the writers use when it’s time to remind everyone he and Scully are broken up. 

It’s IWTB all over again, I’m so tired. 

They’re talking past each other and he’s touching her shoulders now because he needs her to trust him and yadda yadda yadda. 

It’s soooo, sooooo, soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo highschool, I’m sorry. This is Riverdale. This is [insert whatever teen series you want to watch.] These are teenagers masquerading as adults, for the angst.

None of this holds up, their emotions shift left and right without provocation, things just happen, and there is no strand of continuity stringing anything together.

Scully trying to talk Mulder down from further pursuit doesn’t make sense because, AGAIN, she’s the one who's always gone back to the files even when he walks away; and every time he’s given up, or wanted to, SHE'S called him back and held him accountable and kept him going. 

This is the Scully from IWTB with no gumption of her own, who denies her leaps forward because of plot, plot, plot. 

Guys, I’ve been religiously dosing myself with caffeine (via chocolate), but my body keeps trying to make me go to sleep because it’s so uninvested. I don't even need sleep.

“This is my life, this is, this is everything I believe in--” HOW. MANY. TIMES. Has he said this before. WHEN HAS THAT LINE EVER WORKED ON SCULLY.

But that's beside the point: "this" was no longer his life after Amor Fati, by his own choice. Closure brought him closure, but he was already spittin' walk-away talk by Requiem, chose to leave in Vienen, and insisted Scully stay gone in Alone. In Season 9, it was Scully who had to beg him into hiding to pursue the Truth or whatever; and it was Scully who brought him the case in IWTB and Scully who relayed Skinner's request and tagged along both times until she got uncomfy and decided never mind, too hard.

Y’know? This claim gets to me because it’s a lie. A lie so blatant that 90s Mulder would have thrown hands over it, a lie so baseless that it erases his declaration in the hallway:

“I don’t know if I want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I can.” And every time Mulder yells his “THIS IS MY LIFE”, he erases that part of his past, the part that willingly left the files or the big Truth or the next chase to save Scully’s life or to keep her by his side. 

Chris Carter said Mulder and Scully were The X-Files post The Truth… but I guess he keeps conveniently forgetting that. More accurately, he keeps making MULDER forget that, in spite of all evidence in Mulder’s history and personality to the contrary. 

It infuriates me. 

“Tad O’Malley is a charming man--” get outta here. 

Now Scully’s been played the fool so she’s going to think Mulder’s being toyed around with by a social media sociopath. You’re an idiot, Scully. 

You’re an idiot, Mulder. 

You expect us to be idiots, writers. 

Here’s some ham-fisted “Fate” dialogue for you, *ahem*:

Scully: “How do you know he’s not playing you, he’s a player!” (You would know, Scully.) 

Mulder: “He’s a Godsend!”

Mulder’s not a believer in God, BUT this is also supposed to refer to the God conversation Scully and Tad had in the hospital, which will inadvertently make Scully ~believe~ again.

“What are you talking about?” I’m with ya there, Scully. I’m with ya, there. 

Scully’s trying to insist Mulder's on a verge of a breakdown, which… UGH. 

This scene implies Mulder hasn’t had a breakdown or a break from reality YET-- Scully spends the episode constantly concerned for his health and begging him, here, to watch what where he's stepping because he’s on the verge of spiraling. 

Which means he hasn't spiraled, because she's afraid of what would happen to him IF he did.

MEANING that there wasn’t an inciting factor that made her leave: no alcoholism, no outbursts, no nothing. He just became depressed, probably withdrawn, and wouldn’t change; so, she left. 

Do you realize what that means, per this episode? It means Scully ANTICIPATED a breakdown and left BEFORE it happened. Then hoped he’d get better before it did. 

Which breaks the established morals of her character. If she had been able to help, she would have stayed. If she hadn’t been able to help, she would have found another way to help him, even if it involved calling in a third party against his will. Instead, she withdrew and hoped he would get better BEFORE he reached a breaking point-- essentially, leaving him to an impending breakdown while hoping and praying against it.

This makes her decision to leave a mark of weak character-- not because she was a woman who left her depressed husband, but because Dana Scully, whose character we amply know, left. It checks none of the boxes she'd have to clear first before choosing to take one step out the door.

All the fic I’ve read to justify their breakup-- and make no mistake, CC wrote her to say “as your friend” intentionally--  or time apart or whathaveyou had Scully reach a breaking point. Because, of course! That's logical. But here, in canon-- in black and white-- that didn’t happen. 

We, the audience, have to create a plausible scenario in our minds to justify the steps she took. Because. it. Is. not. In. canon (as per this episode.) 

Now Scully’s gonna get jealous of Sveta, I’m so done. Riverdale, uuuuuuuuugh. 

Mulder just lets Scully walk away because Scully thinks he wants Sveta but “Sveta is the key to everything” and if Scully wants to misunderstand that she should have more trust in him, I guess, and I NEED A RESPIRATOR.

He just says “Scully” once  and lets her huff off.  

TAD’S BACK, GO AWAY. 

WAIT, TAD STOPS HER BEFORE SHE LEAVES. 

Mulder: “I would have invited you, Scully, but I didn’t think you would come.” 

That’s…

That’s….

Let’s break down this stupidity: 

Scully shows up. 

Mulder had Sveta in the house because he was calling her and O'Malley for a group meeting. 

When Scully becomes nearly hysterical over his safety, he doesn’t reason with her, just spouts like a lunatic. 

When she misreads the Sveta situation and stomps off, he lets her go with a weak, “Scully"--

--because he knew Tad was right behind her and was pulling in to stop her from leaving. 

Because Tad and Sveta were invited but Scully was not. 

And Scully was not invited because.  

Because she might not show up. 

I’m just preaching to the choir at this point, continuing on. 

Scully gave in, just like that. Guess she’s not leaving, anymore. 

She’s so, so… spineless. Has been since Season 9, has been a BIT since Season 8 (though that was at least justified and kept to a bare minimum.) 

I’m just. So sick of passive Scully. 

I HATE THOSE STINGER NOISES NOW. 

It’s always, “You can't let this information out because these men work in secrecy”/”What is it?”/”You’ll see”; then stinger; then we, the audience, are immediately shown what it is.

No suspenseful build-up.

Tad: “Then why are you [Scully] here?”/”Scully: “Mulder, what are you up to?”/Mulder: *knowing look*/stinger/next scene.

KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY.

“Implanting of alien embryos”-- so Sveta’s babies weren’t her babies. 

So Scully’s baby wasn’t her baby. 

But Emily was her baby but William isn’t. 

Sure, Jan. 

In spite of this information, the Revival will paint William as their son until it doesn’t; despite, again, stating from day one that the alien babies are implanted embryos and not biological babies.

So, these two boneheads should have suspected that William wasn’t theirs, anyway. 

Even though William is theirs because the CSM timeline doesn’t add up, which they would have mathed in their heads by the time little William was snuggled in their arms. 

It’s all so stupid. 

Why does this feel so fearmongery about the government? And I’m not going to sit here and say the government should be trusted-- it has a VERY bad history, I'm aware. But this is “my first conspiracy” level of worldbuilding.  

Did the writers think it was clever to set O’Malley up as a bad actor then reveal he was a good actor, modeling him after the notorious Alex Jones only to point and jeer, “HAH, you assumed! He’s actually on Mulder’s side!” 

Because that’s not genius, that’s laziness. 

Scully only now decides to inform everyone Sveta has no evidence of alien DNA? So, what, she was never going to tell them unless Mulder kept being, what, crazy? 

“They got to her,” says Mulder about Sveta, but Scully LITERALLY SAID she had no alien DNA, so what was Sveta supposed to believe???????? That Tad O'Malley wasn't using her for as a hoax???

Mulder ran all the way to her house, or ubered then ran, or whatever… and she’s gone, of course. 

Poor Sveta. 

Tad O’Malley’s Truth Site is gone, oh, noooooo. 

Look, I’ll always be against censorship. But this is sending so many odd and mixed signals that it’s creating craaaaaaaaaaaaazy levels of dissonance. 

Mulder wrote “Don’t Give Up” in Scully's car dust…. 

Riverdale. 

Mulder presents the global warming = no aliens theory? 

I’m so tired. 

WAIT, SCULLY BELIEVES MULDER'S THEORY NOW THAT HER BOY TAD’S BEEN PULLED OFF THE NETWORK. 

“We need to find her [Sveta], Mulder,” Scully insists. 

Hold on, prediction time: Scully only changed her mind because this case now involves her-- i.e. only extending empathy to Christian (a boy that reminded her of William) and not to the string of missing, possibly murdered, women in IWTB.

OF COURSE. Her results for Sveta ended up being wrong AND HER OWN GENOME HAS ALIEN DNA IN IT, TOO. 

You selfish, self-centered clone of Dana Scully. 

Scully truly hasn’t recovered since… Season 9, let’s be real, where she told Mulder to leave then spent the whole year crying over his absence. In IWTB, she brought Mulder a case then left him when he wouldn’t stop his pursuit (to SAVE. LIVES.) And in the Revival, she called Mulder and the gang crazy until her own genome showed alien DNA. 

Hate this, hate this, HATE this. 

Also, yeah, she already knew she had alien DNA in the OG series, moving on.

Oh, and now they get a call from Skinner just when Scully says someone has to stop the bad guys. 

OF COURSE. 

Remember the God convo from earlier, guys???? GOD. FATE. SOMETHINGSOMETHINGSOMETHING. 

You had ONE good idea to explore-- how Scully views God vs. the aberrations of biology-- and then just... used it as a convenient club to beat in the “God/Fate means for us to do this” instead. 

“Scully, are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know there’s a choice.” 

Can’t someone PLEASE just explore her faith with nuance? PLEASE? 

Sveta's DEAD???????? I’M SO MAD, I liked her!

YOU FAILED HER, SCULLY. 

YOU FAILED MULDER, SCULLY. 

WHY DOES SCULLY HAVE TO KEEP FAILING PEOPLE???????????? 

Skipping the CSM scene because I don’t care, the END. 

CONCLUSION

How does Scully’s mischaracterization keep reaching new lows? 

How does Mulder become less wise with age? 

How is Skinner the only mentally mature character here?

I’m so tired.

[quasi-normalcy]

The fact that my city is breaking heat records on the day that America decided to just throw up its hands and surrender in the fight against global warming is doing nothing for my mood.

[satoshy12]

In a way we are like my Parents

Vegan Rights Damian x Sam Damian met Sam Manson while she was protesting against a company that would cut down a whole forest. And he helped her fight against the corporation by destroying their equipment. Only after that did he notice he did eco-terrorism. And ending up joining her group that fights against global warming and… So Damian ended up doing Robin work at night, at day being Damian Wayne, and three times a week helping Sam and her group and dates too. How is it that he who didn't want to follow his grandpa and mother ended up being a new generation Talia and Batman just without killing and him joining her? Sam liked her boyfriend, but she would like to talk why Talia Head paid so much support for her group and said that she should take good care of Damian.

A/N Sam and Danny never dated, Damian covers up his 2 work from his family. Maybe Danny dates a alien girl or so that had fallen into Amity Park.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - March 13, 2023

🐝 - Did you hear about the honeybee vaccine? It's creating quite the buzz! But seriously, it's a major breakthrough in the fight against American foulbrood and could save billions of bees.

1. Transgender health care is now protected in Minnesota

Minnesota Governor Tim Walz signed an executive order protecting and supporting access to gender-affirming health care for LGBTQ people in the state, amidst Republican-backed efforts across the country to limit transgender health care. The order upholds the essential values of One Minnesota where all people, including members of the LGBTQIA+ community, are safe, celebrated, and able to live lives full of dignity and joy.

Numerous medical organizations have said that access to gender-affirming care is essential to the health and wellness of gender diverse people, while states like Tennessee, Arizona, Utah, Arkansas, Alabama, Mississippi, South Dakota, and Florida have passed policies or laws restricting transgender health care.

2. First vaccine for honeybees could save billions

The US government has approved the world's first honeybee vaccine to fight against American foulbrood, a bacterial disease that destroys bee colonies vital for crop pollination.

Developed by biotech company Dalan Animal Health, the vaccine integrates some of the foulbrood bacteria into royal jelly, which is then fed to the queen by the worker bees, resulting in the growing bee larvae developing immunity to foulbrood. The vaccine aims to limit the damage caused by the infectious disease, for which there is currently no cure, and promote the development of vaccines for other diseases affecting bees.

3. Teens rescued after days stranded in California snowstorm: "We were already convinced we were going to die"

The recent snowstorms in California have resulted in dangerous conditions for hikers and residents in mountain communities. Two teenage hikers were rescued by the San Bernardino County sheriff's department after getting lost in the mountains for 10 days.

The boys were well-prepared for the hike but were not prepared for the massive amounts of snow that followed. They were lucky to survive, suffering from hypothermia and having to huddle together for three nights to stay warm.

Yosemite National Park has had to be closed indefinitely due to the excessive snowfall.

4. La Niña, which worsens Atlantic hurricanes and Western droughts, is gone

The La Nina weather phenomenon, which increases Atlantic hurricane activity and worsens western drought, has ended after three years, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. That's usually good news for the United States and other parts of the world, including drought-stricken northeast Africa, scientists said.

The globe is now in what's considered a "neutral" condition.

5. Where there's gender equality, people tend to live longer

Both women and men are likely to live longer when a country makes strides towards gender equality, according to a new global study that authors believe to be the first of its kind.

The study was published in the journal PLOS Global Public Health this week. It adds to a growing body of research showing that advances in women's rights benefit everyone. "Globally, greater gender equality is associated with longer [life expectancy] for both women and men and a widening of the gender gap in [life expectancy]," they conclude.

6. New data shows 1 in 7 cars sold globally is an EV, and combustion engine car sales have decreased by 25% since 2017

Electric vehicles are the key technology to decarbonise road transport, a sector that accounts for 16% of global emissions. Compared with 2020, sales nearly doubled to 6.6 million (a sales share of nearly 9%), bringing the total number of electric cars on the road to 16.5 million.

Sales were highest in China, where they tripled relative to 2020 to 3.3 million after several years of relative stagnation, and in Europe, where they increased by two-thirds year-on-year to 2.3 million. Together, China and Europe accounted for more than 85% of global electric car sales in 2021

7. Lastly, watch this touching moment as rescued puppy gains trust in her new owners

By the way, this is my newly started YouTube channel. Subscribe for more wholesome videos :D

---

That's it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Let's carry the positivity into next week and keep spreading the good news!

[probablyasocialecologist]

The climate impact of burning coal, oil and gas must be taken into account when deciding whether to approve projects, the supreme court in London has ruled. The landmark judgment, handed down on Thursday, sets an important precedent on whether the “inevitable” future greenhouse gas emissions of a fossil fuel project should be considered. Campaigners hailed the ruling as a “huge win in the fight for a livable climate” and said it gave a boost to several other domestic lawsuits challenging fossil fuel extraction.

[...]

“The whole purpose of extracting fossil fuels is to make hydrocarbons available for combustion,” three of the five judges agreed. “It can therefore be said with virtual certainty that, once oil has been extracted from the ground, the carbon contained within it will sooner or later be released into the atmosphere as carbon dioxide and so will contribute to global warming.” The International Energy Agency has said no new oil and gas exploration should take place if the world is to limit global heating to 1.5C (2.7F) above pre-industrial temperatures.

[...]

Campaigners have brought other lawsuits, such as those against the Rosebank and Jackdaw oil and gas fields in the North Sea, which also challenge the way those projects are assessed. “This is a huge win in the fight for a livable climate,” said Tessa Khan, a climate lawyer and executive director at Uplift, one of the groups challenging Rosebank. “Government can no longer keep repeating that the emissions from burning oil reserves don’t count.” It also gives a boost to a lawsuit challenging the government’s decision to approve a controversial new coalmine in Whitehaven, Cumbria, which had been delayed pending the Horse Hill decision. West Cumbria Mining, the company behind Whitehaven, had been allowed to intervene at the supreme court.

20 June 2024

[pinknipszz]

modern headcanons | highschool edition

⋆✮↪ neteyam, lo’ak, kiri, ao’nung, and tsireya

neteyam

he always walks you to class. he loves company, especially yours. neteyam would go the extra mile by carrying your bag or holding your stuff. and he’s so humble about it! he doesn’t even think that it’s something you should thank him for. to neteyam, it’s just the standard. he once told you that most of his childhood was spent with his mother and grandmother, two women in his life who really care about manners.

he packs extra lunch for you. neteyam is the type of guy to bring an extra lunch box just for you. if you’re not hungry or you brought your own lunch, he’ll insist you take it home. you don’t know what you did to deserve him. he would experiment with different cuisines and sneak in little notes that make you swoon. sometimes, you return the favor. when you pack his favorites, like steamed fish or grilled meat, he loses his mind. everyone finds your relationship sickeningly sweet.

lo’ak 

he probably vaped at least once. he’s the type of guy to give into peer pressure. if someone offered him a blue razz ice elfbar at a party, he would try it without thinking twice. much to your surprise, lo’ak didn’t really get into it. he likes to brag about it though, especially to ao’nung. you scold him when he does. part of the reason why he tries to stay away from that stuff is because of you. he knows that you don’t like it when he jeopardizes his health, so he makes an honest effort to be mindful of his decisions.

he skips class. a lot. honestly, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s offered to “walk you to class” and lead you in the opposite direction. you guys usually stay on campus, like maybe in the janitor’s closet or under the gym bleachers. when you guys aren’t, though, you’re usually running off to a local gas station or even the mall. it really just depends on the class period. lo’ak isn’t exactly the best influence on you.

kiri

her favorite class is biology. it’s just the closest thing she could get to botany as a high schooler. kiri is interested in all things related to plants, to the extent that she started a club dedicated to maintaining the school garden. she doesn’t have any leadership positions like tsireya, though, but she likes it that way. kiri doesn’t want to feel the pressure of dealing with other people. she also doesn’t have the mental strength to be constantly reminded of the fact that global warming exists.

she skips class occasionally. you’re always surprised at how rebellious she’s capable of being. unlike lo’ak, she doesn’t stay on campus. she’s out the door when she gets the chance. instead of staying at places like the mall, though, kiri stays at the local park. it’s where she gets most of her work done. she usually doesn’t drag you with her against your will, because she understands that the risk isn’t always worth it. you’ve never said no to her, though.

ao’nung

he plays close-contact and collision sports. remember when he tackled lo’ak in that one fight scene? yeah. ao’nung would channel that energy into sports like basketball, rugby, and even wrestling. ao’nung isn’t a team captain or anything. that’s way too much commitment, but he does have the most influence. because he earns titles like “player of the game” or “star player,” ao’nung knows how to get sponsors for trips. you hate how it gets in his big head.

he sits behind you in every single class you have together. ao’nung finds it more convenient to talk to you this way. if there’s assigned seating, he’ll bribe, beg, or do literally anything else to sit behind you. it gets him in trouble most of the time, but it’s worth the effort. if it does work, though, ao’nung likes to braid small pieces of your hair or pass notes during class. your classmates give you two funny looks, but they never say anything about it. courtesy of ao’nung.

tsireya

she’s the captain of the swim team. she’s a natural in the water. she’s also very good at raising team morale, so there’s really no other person fit for captain. you always attend her swim meets and cheer her on as much as possible. if you’re being honest, she doesn’t really need it since she crushes the competition every single time. she literally brings home gold every single year. your school will literally never find another swimmer as talented as her.

she’s the head of the house and grounds committee. tsireya would be an environmental activist. she’s got a big heart. she spearheads all activities related to the environment in your school and even started a conservation charity. you have no idea how this girl manages all of that on top of sports and school work. it does get in the way of your quality time with her, but it makes her happy so you don’t complain.

(masterlist)

[awesomecooperlove]

👿👿👿

[matan4il]

Update post:

The fighting along Israel's northern border continues. Today, a Hezbollah attack drone was intercepted over Ein Ha'Mifratz, not too far from the famously mixed city of Akko, in northern Israel. The IDF has been targeting terrorist squads and infrastructure in southern Lebanon in response to the on going Hezbollah attacks on civilians communities here. Meanwhile, a Hezbollah senior has threatened today that Israel is "not ready" for what they have prepared for it.

An Iranian delegation is visiting Egypt, and just like everything else that legitimizes the Islamist regime in Iran, and allows it to get a step closer to its vision of being a world power, this should concern us. The Iranian-funded Houthis have been attacking ships traveling through the Red Sea, which affects global shipping, but the impact to Egyptian economy is even greater, as all of these ships are not passing through the Suez Canal, meaning they're not paying Egypt for this passage either.

A big thank you to @curieklei for sharing this NYT link with me: France is another country clearly denouncing South Africa's false lawsuit against Israel. That's on top of the US, the UK, Canada, and Germany, with the latter even saying it would join the lawsuit on Israel's side.

Yesterday, Jan 18, was the one year birthday of Kfir Bibas, the youngest Israel hostage, who was kidnapped to Gaza when he was just 9 months old. He has spent a quarter of his life in captivity, and counting. In Tel Aviv, his uncle gave a speech, in which he brought up reading what developmental stepping stones Kfir should be going through right now, based on his age. He should be seeing many colors, but he's only experiencing darkness. He should be crawling on safe, warm ground, instead he's kept underground. In Jerusalem, a mural has been dedicated to Kfir and the rest of the Bibas family, including 4 years old Ariel, all still held hostage in Gaza. Since 'kfir' in Hebrew means lion cub, and 'ariel' means God's lion, the whole family is depicated as lions:

These are Shachar and Tamar. During the war, Shahar was seriously injured, and had to have his leg amputated. He's going through rehabilitation, and before even finishing it, he and his girlfriend Tamar got engaged:

The medical first aid that the army is giving the soldiers has dramatically increased their odds of surviving even some critical injuries. During the Second Lebanon War in 2006, the percentage of soldiers wounded, who died from their injuries, was 15%. During the Protective Edge operation in 2014, the percentage dropped to 9.2%. According to IDF statistics, so far in this war, the percentage is even lower, at 6.7%, less than half of what it used to be during the Lebanon war. These advancements in emergency medicine have also helped civilians injured seriously by Hamas terrorist on Oct 7 to survive. Much like in the past, it's sure to be used around the world, and help save the lives of many, without Israel ever getting credit for its global humanitarian aid.

This is 19 years old Adir Tahar.

On Oct 7, he was stationed at the Erez checkpoint, on the border between Gaza and Israel. Just a reminder: there were no Israelis going into Gaza since Israel withdrew in 2005. There were Gazans coming into Israel daily, to work here, to get medical treatment, etc. Without soldiers at the checkpoint, it would have been closed. By serving there, Adir wasn't just protecting Israelis, he was also serving the Palestinian population in Gaza.

On the day of the massacre, Adir fought back against the Hamas terrorist and saved many others, before he was killed in battle, when they shot an RPG at him. But then, they abused the body of this kid. They cut off parts of it, including beheading it. David Tahar, Adir's father, recently recounted how he watched a Hamas vid showing his son's headless body. What was left, was so mutilated, they had to identify it based on his dog tags, personal items he carried and DNA. During an interrorgation of two terrorists who were involved in this, it turned out that one of them tried to auction Adir's head for 10,000 $. The family originally had to bury the body, knowing its main parts were missing. The interrogation produced enough intel, for the IDF to be able to retrieve the head from where it was kept in an ice cream shop's freezer, with signs of further abuse on it. The family opened the grave and re-buried their kid.

They are now trying to raise enough money, to open a center for endangered youth, dedicated to Adir's memory, in the city where he lived, Jerusalem. The last time I saw an update, they were looking to raise 500,000 shekels, and got donations of 27,000 shekels. I really hope they succeed. Either way, may Adir's memory be a blessing.

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

[hwaightme]

The meaning of 'Jeong'

☔ pairing: yunho x f!reader ☔ genre: comfort, fluff, angst ☔ summary: jeong (정/情) - the intimate and warm feeling, the closeness and affection arising from one's relationship with another person. ☔ wordcount: 5.8k ☔ warnings/tags: stress, a lot of work stress, burnout, disregard for own health, language, a little arguing, yunho driving, yunho singing, business, office, implied office disrespect, no need for words when yunho knows, knight in a shining automobile, snow and rain, on the verge of a breakdown, starry night, unedited, lmk if anything else~ ☔ taglist: @doom-fics @legohwa @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven ☔ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ☔ a/n: hello there, sometimes we are in need of some yunfort~ warmest hugs, and much love! All reblogs, comments, thoughts, notes appreciated~ Thank you so much Sky for ideating with me, inspiring me, and fueling first my San, and then my Yunho brainrots <3 would not have happened without you~

It seemed that no matter what you did, everything served to further agitate you - another penny in the bottle of emotions that was threatening to overflow if you as much as hinted at your utter exhaustion. With all your might you wanted to convince yourself that this was temporary, you were trying your best and that no matter what happened, it all would end up being for the better. But sometimes, too much was just what it was. Too much.

Your troubles had wounded themselves tightly into an impossible knot, weighing you down until you were in a hopeless crawl, barely sentient and resorting to existing on autopilot just so you could avoid tearing up in a public place. You were not about to give your colleagues the sadistic satisfaction. With hefty heaps of sarcasm and barely concealed impatience, you waded through meeting after meeting, discussing projects that had backlogs larger than your anger. Somehow, as the day progressed, what you had already deemed to be a ‘not so good day’ had managed to one, two, triple-up itself.

First, you were notified, twenty minutes before the official launch of a function update in an internal, company-wide application, that there was a severe bug found, and the release would have to be delayed until further notice. Nothing new for a product manager to hear, but considering that you had just spent two hours in a metaphorical grill with your own senior manager, as well as the director of the department, you were not about to ‘not take things to heart’. The pressure only built as you were pinging person after person, with your dual monitor glowing from all the messaging windows, fighting against the torrent of your subordinates’ uncontrollable procrastination, all an attempt to reconfigure task assignment to fit in the same sprint. You cursed the ‘agile’ framework time and time again as you upped the severity on at least seven story points for your team, and hesitantly, transferred a hefty number to yourself.

This was a never-ending cycle. One which you would never break no matter how hard you tried. Such was your job; at least that was the excuse you gave it, since the monetary compensation was good enough to be motivated to put up with was clearly draining. In calls from early morning until late in the evening. Constantly juggling everyone’s workload and having to keep your finger on the professional pulses of at least fifty people, globally. You were no stranger to having meetings at awkward hours of the day, either. As you watched your colleagues beginning to pack up and leave for home, chatting away about their families, or about some new restaurant that opened in the area, or about some sports game, you realised you were completely deflated. Looking at your calendar, there was only one meeting – with partners in the US, to go, but it felt like an impossibly daunting task. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on your eyes and tension in your neck made it impossible to sit comfortably. But you still did it. Still sat there, in your office chair, accompanied by the squadron of chronic overtime workers whose heads were dotted across the floor as far as your eye could see, and pretended like it was not nearing nine o’clock at night.

You had promised your boyfriend that you would stop drinking coffee at weird hours, him having been horrified at how you could handle the bitter beverage, while you would pretend you did not see him sneak sweetener into his mocha. But with both of you getting busier and busier, and with you additionally trying to drown out the noise that came with not seeing him as much as you would have wanted, you slipped into your routinely coffee machine visits. The rumble of the artificial barista as it brewed up your only source of energy was soothing – the one sound in the workplace that did not pose a threat to your mental health, nor to your growing headache. Every sip was a temporary lull in an otherwise chaotic corporate fiasco you had found yourself in. Oh, how you wished you could tap out; this was your only conclusion to the dull, monotonous interlocution where not once, but twice did one of your co-workers abroad show their complete ineptitude in all things technology related by failing to share screen and check chat.

As you bid farewell to the last of the officemates who you agreed to mutual acknowledgement with, you leaned back in your chair and sighed. With the pitch black night outside, the artificial fluorescence that illuminated your pallid, tired skin appeared to be stronger, drying your eyes. If you were to stay frozen for a while, they would turn off until the next sudden movement, and maybe you could catch up on a much needed nap, cutting your sleep debt by at least a few minutes. But at the same time, could you afford those few minutes? When you were left alone with your mind, the notion of productivity and achievement became skewed, and what you would previously deem to be okay, or good enough, easily moving on to the next task, now metamorphosed – daunting, demanding monsters that haunted you, highlighting their inexistent faults in a dark crimson, covering your vision. If there was free time, that was time that could be spent working, perfecting, editing. And if it was not spent in that way, it was time wasted. Simple as that. Inadvertently, you became a lethal collaborator of the very cycle you dreaded waking up for the last couple of weeks, and were now in the process of breaking it, twisting it into a downwards spiral. You were aware of this, and yet, you remained passive, dismissing all alarm bells as overdramatization. The increase in cooling coals in your ambitious fire did not phase you, for you decided you had more important things to focus on. Like staring at your emails, unable to conjure a single coherent thought.

The words were swimming in front of you, the caffeine no longer doing anything to serve you. All that was left was the chocolatey aftertaste – you had your coffee snob colleagues to thank for campaigning for having proper beans be ordered, so everyone could travel to faraway places at least through the notes the beverage had, the harvest, taste the sun that blazed down on the rolling hills proudly bearing the farmlands. Only the memory of the dark roast sticking to the roof of your mouth, an unpleasant dryness settling along with the realisation that there was no chance you would be making any more progress. You heaved another displeased sigh, and after rolling your shoulders a couple of times, pressed on the power button, seeing how your distorted reflection appeared before you as the screens went black.

It was easy to imagine ghosts waving you goodbye, as the click-clack of your heels resonated through the main reception on the ground floor of the skyscraper where you were one of the many ants. A lonely security guard stationed by the turnstiles nodded you his farewell, hearing the beep of your id card being accepted. You nodded back. He was one of the more approachable-looking guardians of the money-making machine, you had seen him shake a joke with his fellow suited-up brethren a total of two times and you were not about to discourage yourself with the accompanying thought that you had been working in the company for just over a year now. You have not had the share of your favourite megawatt grins that would have dispelled your grim disposition, so every bit of negativity had to be treated with caution. You were a ballistic missile being transported in a rickety mule-drawn cart with one wheel falling off. Bit by bit. Step by step. You just needed an uneventful commute home, so you could collapse into your bed and forget about today, until tomorrow would inevitably remind you, and so the loop would start again.

But there it was. The cherry on top of the disgusting cake. Of course, the weather had to fit the atrocious mood. Even though your calendar explicitly stated spring, and you had been more than excited to welcome the longer days and the blooming trees and bushes, the temperamental elements were bestowed upon you as what could only be an evil prank. A cocktail of clumped up snowflakes and icy cold rain beating down on the side walk, the light emanating from a nearby streetlight gaining the appearance of static due to the rapidly cutting streaks. You cursed under your breath, already saying goodbye to your felt trench coat and blaming yourself for being too optimistic and not metaphorically gluing an umbrella to your hand. It was difficult to hold the tears that began to well up and inevitably blur your vision, turning the puddles and buildings into an urban soup. You had always wanted to see yourself as strong, or at least strong enough to be able to sustain yourself and be proud of your perseverance. But as you stood there, a stride away from being soaked by the downpour, you were trying to accept that you were fated to be ‘that one passenger’ on the metro, wavelengths of stress and misery vibrating out of you. The passenger who would have everyone sitting as far as possible and obviously concerned. You looked down, watching a stray shiny wrapper float down to the curb on a stream of water, stopping once it reached the sewage drain and the holes ended up being too small. Your hands clenched into weak fists, and you trembled, the nervous lump in your throat becoming painfully noticeable and spurring on a growing flood of apprehension. Under the stormy night sky you were so small. A tiny dot that would not leave as much as a footprint, insignificant against the menacing, ceaselessly falling drops of water, like a barrage of nature’s heavy artillery. As you were about you turn up the collar of your coat in attempt to do something, anything to protect you against the rain that you were about to step into, a voice called out, in part muted by the battering of concrete, but you would still recognise it anywhere.

“Would be cool if you could answer your phone sometimes.” Your head turned sharply to the right, in the direction from which you heard the sweet, deeper set tone.

Face slightly obscured by the edge of the huge umbrella that was loyally protecting him, there, approaching you, ambled the man who you would not dare expect to spontaneously visit you. Sure, you had your share of fantasies about how it would be like to have your boyfriend pick you up from work, or to meet up for lunch together, but both you and Yunho had phenomenally chaotic work schedules, and even calls lasting for longer than five minutes had to be planned well in advance. And while you were over the moon when you could spend time with him, the recent scarcity had led into a mounting pressure for you, to maintain a lighthearted disposition, to not let your troubles interfere with him and his life outside of a busy, demanding career. While that could have been your pride talking since such an approach took courage, your comfort was not at the forefront of your mind when you chose to not tell the full story to Yunho, when you faked a smile and covered the bags under your eyes.

"You know I can't use my phone in the office." You huffed, stuffing your hands into your pockets and feeling for the device, which you preferred to keep on do not disturb unless you knew someone was meant to be contacting you.

"Well, you are not in the office anymore, Y/N. But it’s alright, I completely get you. It’s late enough for you to not even bother with it until tomorrow, honestly." Your boyfriend shrugged his shoulders, and as he joined you under the roofing that protected the entrance from the mid-March cries of winter, he lowered and folded the black umbrella, revealing himself entirely to the streetlamp, and dim light emanating from the glass that guarded the reception area. You took in his divinely sculpted form, his smiling eyes and lips, and, in shock, realised that it had been far too long since you had seen this wondrous man in person.

He was dressed as though he had just stepped out of the dance studio, which, knowing Yunho, he very much might have. A beige hoodie, black tracksuit bottoms and some dual-toned sneakers to tie everything together he looked dangerously cuddly, which only further agitated you. Why did he have to come here without warning? Why did your ray of sunshine have to show up when you were nothing but a seething, thunderous raincloud?

"Thanks, Yun. But how and why are you here, exactly?" you did not mean to sound irritated, but your spent nerves were getting the best of you and took control of your speech. Yunho quirked an eyebrow but dismissed his perplexity in favour of lightening the atmosphere and cheering you up.

"My spidey senses told me you might need a knight in a shining automobile. And judging by how you don't have an umbrella, I think I'm right."

It was much more than just the lack of an umbrella; at your happiest, you were the type of person who would sing in the rain. It was the awkward hours at which you responded to his texts, the evident struggle you went through to keep your eyes open whenever you two would video call after work, but most of all it was how you so obviously held information back from Yunho that prompted him to approach his manager and carve out the time he otherwise would not have. If there was anything he learned over the half a year, and counting, of your relationship, was that you were a fighter, much like him - an energiser to a fault. You would give, give and give some more until there was nothing left for you, and then would lead yourself into the illusion that you were just being lazy when you were actually falling apart. You were putting on a brave, calm and collected face, and your hesitation to drop the mask in front of him was unnerving. If there was anyone in your present life who should be your pillar of support, a person you could trust, depend on, lean on be it emotionally or physically, it should be him. In Yunho's eyes, work and some pre-determined timetable was always adjustable when a loved one was in trouble, and hell, you were of the same opinion: when it came to racing across the city in the middle of the night just because he hinted at the fact that he had sustained an injury, you would stop the universe. So why did you not consider the basic healthy principle as something that was not applicable to you?

"But aren't you busy?" your inquiry sounded rhetorical. As though you had already formulated an answer for yourself and were unwilling to accept any other. To be frank, yes, Yunho was busy. So were you. Such was life. However, this element of your lives did not define you, nor did it imply having to take a secondary position in another’s life. Yunho shook his head, stepping closer to you until your arms were almost brushing.

There was a melancholic air to you. Days passing in minor chords, accumulating into a tune, then a song, then a symphony. Your sonata filled with dreams falling flat, and sharp comments forcing you to adjust your dynamics and rhythm. Yunho had fallen in love with the beautiful music of your heart – a beacon of kindness, selflessness and positivity, you had always been the first to encourage him, sometimes messaging or calling him before his members even had a chance to turn in his direction to wish him luck. An innate, deeper sense of what was around you, Yunho noticed time and time again how you elegantly navigated social landscapes, reading people, places and striving to simply do what was best for the situation you faced. You were one to intuitively know something was going on before it could even have the chance to consciously register.

But that also made you prone to wearing yourself out. Sacrificing yourself for those who did not deserve it, and not leaving enough to perform even the most basic human functions. Your boyfriend was always in awe of you, and how you could possibly have so much love contained in your body. As he gazed at your form while you rocked back and forth on your feet – a habitual action that he had realised was one of the most telling signs for your worry bubbling over, the strong urge to erase whatever parasitic dissonance was taking up space in your magnificent mind grew and grew until he could not resist to take your hand in his, smiling when he noticed your lips curl into the ghost of a smile as your fingers intertwined.

"Not busy to love you. No come on, let's get you home, you spent enough time in the glass box as is." He tugged on your hand, ready to open the umbrella again to lead you to the car he had parked around the corner, but you would not budge.

"I swear you had prac-"

"I am here. Okay? Here, now." He desperately wanted to bring you back into the present. What was outside of your control, and was not your decision to make should not preoccupy you, and yet if you caught onto as much as a hint of being the source of inconvenience for another, it sent you into a grim spiral. Not this time, Yunho was not going to let you keep doing this to yourself, even if it took a lifetime.

"It must have taken you so long to get here I-" your voice was growing quieter and quieter as you focused on the sensation of Yunho’s warm hand pressed against yours.

You had not realised how much you missed the feeling, and the reassurance that came with it. He was here, indeed. He was here with you. He was there for you. You raised your head as soon as he squeezed your hand a couple of times but struggled to maintain eye contact due to the evident concern written in his glimmering orbs. The tender, compassionate eyes, irises a dark mahogany hue, a safe haven in your hardship. You wished you could fall into those pools and drift into the blissful serenity they offered. At the same time, it was terrifying how he was peering right into your soul, making it seem as if your vulnerabilities were right there, on display, just for him. A shiver ran down your spine despite the layers you were wearing.

"If you checked your phone, you would now that my schedule changed." He commented, gleaming.

"Oh, so you are saying I'm wrong for worrying now?" you tried to pry yourself away, but Yunho strengthened his grip. He was not about to let you float into that headspace again.

"I don’t mean to make you angry here, just pointing a thing out." Voice level, the dulcet timbre silently posed a question to you – what was the rush? Why were you trying to run from affection?

"I am not angry! Just why is it that out of the blue you decide to appear? I would have been fine-"

"What, have other plans?"

"Uh, no? Going home?"

"So, what is there to stop me from popping by to see my girlfriend?” he pursed his lips, pulling you towards him so that you were facing him directly. Spontaneously interested in everything but his piercing scrutiny, you took to studying the white drawstrings of his hoodie.

"But… uh… well… There is like, a lot happening right now, isn’t there? For both of us? I mean… you have all that filming to do, the comeback to prepare for… you literally just came back from tour and…” you caught yourself rambling, and trailed off into the sound of rainfall.

"Hm. Figured."

Yunho nodded to himself, clicking the tip of his umbrella against the ground as though dotting a full stop on a page. Confused, you attempted to prompt him for an elaboration.

"Excuse me?"

"That you are burned out."

The phrase was a scalding hot iron thrown at the barriers you had painstakingly been building around your mind palace. You knew that it was true. Hell, if someone had just asked you to speak the truth about what you were feeling, this was the first thing that would come to mind, but were you going to say it? No. Never. What you were feeling and what influenced you was nobody else’s problem.

"Am not." It was childish, but it was the only response you could conjure without making tears well up in your eyes. Yunho was too close, too attentive, too much for your distressed and hurt heart.

"Are too."

"Look I am fine. There is nothing-” you peered at the darkness on the other side of the street. Tuned into the rustling of the trees that lined it, and wished for yourself to become part of the scenery instead of having to confront what Yunho was trying to get you to admit.

“You said there is a lot happening for both of us, and then you just list things off about me,” he was not going to let you go this easily, both in discussion and physically as he removed his hand from yours and instead placed it on your waist, “I am perfectly aware of them. I know my limits, and I know that I am managing fine only because I am honoured to have so many people supporting me. And now, I want one of these people to tell me what this ‘a lot’ means to them, and why they are now looking in the other direction.”

Your head snapped back to Yunho, revealing your misty-eyed state. Immediately, his expression softened, and he pulled you in, keeping you flush against his chest as he absent-mindedly rubbed your back with his thumb, while his other hand was keeping the wet umbrella a safe distance away from your clothing. You bit your lip as you took in Yunho’s comforting scent. He never wore any particular perfume, instead opting to smell like a mixture of fresh laundry and a miniscule hint of soap. And yet, if you could bottle this and keep it, you would in a heartbeat. To you, this was what the aroma of home, of safety was. If he wished to make you unravel your ball of troubles, this was the way to do it, you confirmed as you felt yourself automatically melt into his touch, blinking away tears that you were tired of holding. Not exactly aligned with your scheduled ‘half an hour of breaking down when you get to your apartment’, but who were you to complain about Yunho staying here with you, in the cold, adamant on defeating your inner voice that otherwise would have led you into a further darkness.  

"Let's continue this in the car, yeah?" His voice wavered, dropping into the softest whisper which jolted you out of your guards entirely, and you let yourself be guided by him to his car.

As you ambled, side by side, you were enveloped in a total silence, the raindrops forming an abstract beat on the umbrella above you. Arm around you, fingers landing just under your shoulder, Yunho was afraid of letting you go even for an instant, the fragility in your steps and fumbling for a response as he asked if his hold felt alright for you exposing your inner dejection. And once he had you and him settled in the front and driver’s seats respectively, he put the key into ignition, but did not turn it just yet. As the rain painted a blurry masterpiece on the windshield, he tilted his head, and looked at you.

“Tell me about your day.” A simple ask, but to you it felt like one of those unsolvable mathematics problems. You could lie, and on any other occasion you probably would with a classic ‘I’m fine thank you and you’, but you would be foolish to think that Yunho would buy that. If anything, he would explicitly label the nonsense for what it was and encourage you to give him a real answer with nothing but those gorgeous, hopeful eyes of his.

“It was… you know what, it was a lot. Too much even. Really, the last couple of weeks have been too much.” You uttered, annoyance starting to boil within you as you recalled the rollercoaster of events.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to weigh you don’t with it. Really, this is nothing. It will pass.” You fiddled with the buttons on the blazer, now within reach as you had unzipped your coat. Though your words were grammatically correct, nothing made sense to you. What was it that you were saying? Learned phrased out of the automatic deflection compartment, lines of defence in an effort to avoid discussion.

“Then why are you giving it so much power?” Yunho persisted.

“Uh… I don’t know, maybe because it is my job?”

“So, you get paid to have burn outs?” while he asked this in a joking manner, his smile did not spread past a brief flash. When you did not send a retort in his direction, he motioned for you to continue. You hated to admit it, but you agreed. As of late, this was exactly what your job had turned into. You being a hamster stuck in a wheel, running ceaselessly with no rest breaks in sight. Running in the hopes of there being a finish line. A success. A milestone. But all there seemed to be was more paperwork, more reporting, more meetings, more conflict, and more doubt.

“Well, now that you say that…”

“I am not one to judge professional choices and perfectionism. In fact, I respect you so much for being so dedicated, and being such a hard worker. But a siren is going off right now, okay? You are on the edge of a cliff, and we do not want you to fall off it, yeah?”

“What cliff?”

“I am an idiot for not picking up on this sooner, but now that I have, I must tell you: you are being pushed way past your limit, and you need a break. It is basically doctor’s orders.”

“But it’s just wo-”

“Tell me, what was the last thing one of your colleagues had said to you? About your work?” Yunho was no stranger to office gossip, through you having occasionally divulged to him the drama occurring in your workplace, and through the myriad of dramas he had watched with you and noticed that you often reacted to what was happening on screen as if it hit very close to home.

“Uhm… but it was not a nice thing so…”

“Say it.” Interest turned into a demand, and Yunho leaned closer to you.

“I only overheard it…”

“And? You still heard it.” Dropping his voice low, he rejected your subconscious devaluing of what had obviously been harm incurred.

“That I was trying too hard to please my boss…” a mumble escaped you, followed by a ragged sigh. Why was this so hard?

“That is fucked up.”

“…even though I was literally just doing my job. I was asked to do this report and all there was that was extra to it was me wanting to make it look pretty.” While you were not saying anything particularly heart-breaking, at least not by your definition, you choked up and had to force each word out with the strength you had left.

“I swear, humans are strange creatures,” Yunho mused out loud before chuckling, “says I, a human.”

“But that’s exactly why you can say it. And besides, you are a thoughtful human. Pretty much a blessing, Yunho. So don’t even.” Finally, a genuine grin graced your features, reminiscent of the first rays of sunlight after a merciless storm. Basking in the glow, Yunho returned it twofold and proudly wore the blush that started to rise on his cheeks. But he knew better than abandoning his mission so early on.

“Not to be cringe or anything, but to hear that coming from an angel is quite the honour.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you laughed airily. But the moment, unfortunately, did not last long, and your day was once more overcast by rumination. Yunho did not speak, waiting for you to give him as much detail as you felt comfortable with sharing.

“Sometimes, even if I am trying my hardest, I get this sense that I might be better off shutting up and giving the others the reins.”

“So, they are disrespecting their own manager?”

“I guess it's because I am younger than them or something. I mean, I get it, it is a gnarly economic period for the company, and everyone is losing their marbles, trying to stay above the water, but it would be good if they at least took my advice into consideration.”

If looks could destroy, then the glare that Yunho sent your office building would have set it ablaze. To curb his anger, he drummed out an abstract pattern on the steering wheel, though the grip that followed it told all. He blamed himself for not having been there sooner. For letting this pain pile on until it turned to a ball and chain that progressively set out to ruin what had been your dream career. If only it was as easy to wipe away cutting words and agonising actions like faint graphite etchings on a piece of paper.

“They should know their place, that’s what," he hissed, giving the wheel one final thump before pushing himself into his seat and turning to you, "You are being too soft on them, in my opinion. And that is why they are acting out. Promise me this, you will show them that you are a frontline manager, and you are more than capable of keeping things under control-”

“I’m trying-”

“-by taking a break. People can sense weakness, especially people who are not so kind to you. And while I cannot fix their attitude, I can try my best to help you. And before you say it, you are not coming into the office on the weekend, I am booking you up.”

"How do you know I do that?"

"Over the months of video calls you really think I did not memorise that one conference room you use to call me?" He shot back, smirking as you were at a loss, the only option being to roll your eyes and give yourself up to a legally mandated holiday.

“Yunho, you are too selfless, please, I just need a couple more hours of sleep and I’ll be all sorted."

“No, I will be selfish and take care of you. So, sit back, relax, and think of happy things. And that’s an order.”

“But that is not how selfish works?”

“It does in our world. Besides, don't you want to show them who is the boss?" The cheeky boyish grin won you over, and you beamed, whispering an amused:

"Unbelievable..."

Falling in love with Yunho did not give you butterflies in your stomach. If anything, it calmed the anxious knots that accumulated over however long the time between you being in each other's presence was. Sure, you would be okay without one another. Living life, achieving what you wanted to achieve. Brought down by the gloomy days but rising again. But together, those days were just so much less gloomy. The, what could only be described as innate, trust that you had formed in one another, was the invisible string tying you together in the gift that was your present. Falling and being in love with Yunho was like a warm day in the spring, a promise for new life, for blue skies and for a warm breeze caressing the blossoms of affection. It was like the starry night sky in the early summer, with you and him sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building where you lived, on an old bed sheet because you were yet to invest in a proper picnic blanket, but still the happiest people in the world.

As he closed the gap between you, running his fingers over your jawline before cupping your face to get a better angle, you closed your eyes and gave into the adoration that emanated from him. In the subtlest of gestures, in the sentimentality that translated into him understanding you better than how you understood yourself, he was every bit a man head over heels in love. And while either of you were yet to say the words, each action and inaction both screamed it. Perhaps it was something more than love. A proximity of the souls that was built in the quietude, in the shadows of an emotional flurry. In the hustle and bustle of common terminology, labels and anniversaries, a little world that could only come into existence with genuine intent and care became a reality. This cozy corner that housed only you and Yunho. 'Did you eat?', 'I will take care of you', 'I'm outside with medicine' were all manifestations of this unspoken devotion. And as he placed one final kiss on your rosy lips before starting up the car, you were entertained by the fascinating coincidence in the only term you could think of to describe this feeling being the exact same as your boyfriend's surname.

Flickering lights, neon signs and a revelation that the cycle could stop. Though you were on the verge of somnolence, barely resisting drowsiness settling on your eyelids like the snowflakes outside, you watched as Yunho masterfully spun the steering wheel while singing a melody which you recognised to be Standing Egg's Starry Night, one which you had made him repeat again and again as soon as you had heard it once. Upon noticing your gaze resting on him, he broke into a chuckle and fell quiet until the next red light.

"Mmm, why did you stop?" You asked and pouted, glancing at Yunho's arm as he pulled on the handbrake.

"Because I want to look at you as I sing it:

Here we are close to star

I want to stay with you forever like this

Here we are close to star

The endless starry sky and you and me..."

As he sang, in the air hung a promise. One which you did not need for him to say out loud to understand, for more often than not, the feeling itself was the true, and magical meaning.

[elbiotipo]

in the face of things like the floods in Brazil, how do you have ANY hope that the biosphere won’t be completely and utterly destroyed? I’m at my wit’s end. It seems like we’ve passed the point of no return. There isn’t any hope

how do you keep motivated

The biosphere won't ever be completely and utterly destroyed. Unless an asteroid impact boils the oceans away, that's just hyperbole.

And the FIRST thing you need to stop doing about climate change right now is hyperbole, because 1) that's the new strategy of "let's keep things as they are" people, "climate change is irreversible and we're all doomed so why do anything" and 2) it makes people to think you don't know what you're talking about and you're just a pointless doomer so they don't even listen. I'm a biologist, but you also should know what biosphere is, you know our biosphere has passed through several mass extinctions and has survived. Use the right terms.

What do I mean by this, am I being a condescending pedant? No, well maybe a little and I apologize, but my point is, it means that to talk about climate change, you need to know what's at risk. It's not "the Earth will warm 2°C and EVERYTHING WILL DIE", it's NOT. Global warming in such a short timescale means the disruption of global climate and weather in unpredictable ways which leads to natural catastrophes such as these. It means the disruption of ecosystems and agroecosystems because of this, in ways that we don't fully understand because it involves many factors. At the very worst case scenario, it means crop failures with all that implies, and we've already seen this with droughts, but even then, it would require adaptation and food distribution, just as today. There is a lot more to climate change, but what's important here is that it doesn't mean that we will all catch fire or drown when the average temperature reaches a certain degree. There is not such thing as a "point of no return".

What can we do about this? First of all, assist those who are inmediatly affected by these natural disasters. Second of all, recognize that these things will increase and start building up measures against it; change land use and preserve forests and wetlands so that floods have natural sinks, build defenses and canals in cities, reforest and protect land affected by drought, every place will have to adapt in a different way. Third, and this is already happening, transition away from fossils and aim at decarbonization, not only stop emissions but actually reverse them.

I say this is already happening because as of right now, solar and wind energy is at its cheapest ever and coal plants aren't being built nearly anywhere anymore. This transition is going through very rough times as the fossil fuel industries are very powerful, and this is why governments need to be pressured by popular action to complete it once and for all. But the results are already there. The worst case scenario of a 4°C warming planet, which would have meant crop failures and total melting of the ice caps, is increasingly far away, we are NO longer in the business as usual scenario. Are we there yet? No. Is a warming over 1.5°C inevitable? Most probably yes. Will this cause disasters and will require a tremendous effort to fight back? Definitevely. But every effort counts. Every coal plant that closes, every hectare of forest preserved, every time people choose nature over profit, every effort counts towards keeping us away from catastrophe.

Do you efffort then! Go get educated instead of dooming, learn what a biosphere is! And a biosphere isn't a small thing, you won't save it alone. It will take the efforts of millions of people to protect it. Millions of people who are already hard at work. Educate yourself and join them!

[padfootagain]

Bookshelves

Hi everyone ! Here is a cute little something to answer this anonymous request for my 6k event : “I am in love with your writing style 💖😍 Can you make ben Barnes one with trope 16?”

Thank you for your request, anon! Hope you like the cute drabble I wrote for it!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: so much fluff you will get cavities

Summary: Nothing’s better than reorganizing your bookshelves with the love of your life on a crispy autumnal afternoon…

Word count: 1258 (short but sweet!)

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

The air is crisp and cold and you love it. It’s greyer than the leaves outside, they still wear their orange and red colours. The sky matches the global atmosphere of that afternoon: heavy with upcoming rain, gradients between black and white, smelling of the earth after a storm. You have a warm mug waiting for your lips right by your side, there, on the floor. A warm blanket wrapped around your frame and a fire cracking over cold stones. It’s warm, it’s autumn in all its splendour.

It's a simple afternoon, basked in Eta James’s voice, and it’s easy to forget that tomorrow is just another Monday, that you will have to go to work and get up before dawn and fight the cutting edges of the cold wind against your cheeks. It’s easy to forget that this day will have to end. Especially when Ben’s voice rises from somewhere behind you, a low hum that spreads warmth and reassurance across your heart, makes it skip a few beats in its excitement. He’s humming along the melody, matching the warmth of the saxophone and the quietness of his padding feet against the tiles. When he sits down by your side again, a refill of warm tea in his favourite mug, his hair is dishevelled, wearing an old black hoodie and some sweatpants, along with colourful fuzzy socks.

And you love it. You’ve never found him as stunning as he is now, looking cozy and warm and infinitely intimate in the simplicity of his appearance. Nothing fancy. Nothing done to impress you. You’ve passed this uneasy stage of your relationship a long time ago. You love each other too much now to accept anything from the other but their true self. You admire the curve of his jaw darkened with stubble, and the grace of his eyelashes brushing his pale cheeks, and the enticing beauty spot under his right eye. You’re not even thinking as you reach up to brush his messy dark strands of hair back, out of his face, so you can see him better. He’s smiling, turning towards you as you move your fingers through his hair, just the way he likes it.

“Alright, so… how do we proceed with this?” he asks, something mischievous glinting in his dark eyes, and you can’t supress a smile.

The task at hand is huge: rearranging the bookshelves of two people who adore reading is going to be a mission that will keep you both busy for the whole day. You’re going to love every second of it, no doubt.

“Do you want to reorganize everything by author? Genre? Colour?”

“Author is more practical.”

“Colour is prettier.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“I will do whatever makes you happy, my darling.”

“Do you want to separate our collections?”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“We share a last name by now, we’re done compartmentalizing stuff and labelling them as ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. Whenever you’re sick, even your bloody virus becomes mine…”

You laugh at that, playfully pinching his thigh.

“Hey! It’s not my fault if you caught my cold last month! I told you to stop cuddling me, and you didn’t!”

“You looked too miserable. I was feeling too bad for you…”

The admittance is a mix of fondness, shyness and something extra-sweet that your heart can’t handle. It quickens its pace as it overloads.

“Right, so… we’re putting them all together, but how? Because for now, our books are a mess.”

“I vote authors. Because I’m an organised person,” Ben argues, but you pull your tongue at him at the playful teasing in his tone.

“I vote colours, cause it’s more aesthetically pleasing.”

“I vote for whatever makes you happy, cause I’m a clever lad, and I know I need to pick my battles in this relationship…”

“Clever lad, indeed!”

You exchange a laugh and a tender kiss, before starting to empty the shelves, Ben standing up to take the books out and passing them to you so you could organize them in piles.

It takes what looks like forever to empty all the shelves fully. You have mountains of books around you by the time you’re done, and Ben has changed the music to some Louis Armstrong and his trumpet. It has started to rain, and you have to turn on the lights as the sky turns a darker shade of grey. The rhythmic pattern of the rain against the windowpane and the rooftop warms your heart, and draws white clouds over the windows.

Ben is becoming increasingly distracted though. By the time the shelves are empty, he’s restless and keeps on playfully pushing your legs with his feet.

“Stop it!” you smack his foot away when he attacks again, making him giggle in the most adorable way.

“Let’s take a break,” he argues with such an adorable pout, you are this close from yielding, but you don’t, shaking your head.

“Come on, we can cuddle after we’re done with this,” you offer, and you notice the grin he fails to hide.

“In bed?”

“In bed.”

“Can I be little spoon?”

“If you want to, sure.”

This time he gives you a proper grin, bright and full of mischief.

“Oh, that’s a deal! Hurry up!”

You laugh at him as he starts picking piles of books, but he quickly slows down to organize the shelves correctly.

And you love it, it’s so satisfying to reorganize your bookshelves. You add some figurines, some cute pictures of the two of you as decoration to fill up the empty spaces on the shelves. And then it’s finally done, complete.

“I have to admit that the rainbow thingy looks stunning. Highly impractical, but stunning.”

“I think so myself!”

Ben drinks up the cold remnants of his tea, wincing at the nasty taste.

“We did such a good job! All our books finally put together in a pretty way!”

Ben hums in agreement, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer, dropping a sweet kiss to your head.

“We did an excellent job!”

That’s when he realizes that his favourite figurine is missing. He looks around frantically, but you merely chuckle as you point towards the coffee table.

“Marty’s over there,” you joke, and he heaves a relieved sigh, walking over to get his Back to the Future figurine, and he places it on a shelf.

“Now, it’s perfect!” he chimes, turning towards you. “And I think we deserve to rest now.”

“You mean… cuddle?”

“Of course, I mean cuddle! You promised I would get cuddles out of this, do not break your word!”

You laugh at him but follow him anyway, teasing him some more while you make your way to your bedroom.

A few minutes later, you are buried under blankets, watching the rain fall on your windows, the touches of red from the trees in the distance, Ben tugged into your side, his head buried in the warmth of your neck as you stroke gently his back.

He heaves a content sigh.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers into your skin. “God… I’m so happy right now. This is the best, isn’t it? Just… doing the simplest of things together. Just… doing nothing. Just… being here, together.”

You hum, kissing his forehead, and you notice then that he has closed his eyes. He’ll soon fall asleep, he often does when you hold him like this. He can’t help it. He feels so peaceful in your arms, safe, untroubled.

“Yeah… yeah, I think that’s the best, indeed…”