#hoping that those affected will be able to see a new tomorrow.

[phioneplatinum]

Listen, now, I don't usually post stuff like this. I really don't! But I'm not gonna stand aside and watch multiple dreams, hopes, and futures shattered. I've done what I've could, and you should too! Does it disturb me? Yes! Yes it does! It disturbs everyone, and the fact people are willing to destroy these futures is just. Fucked up! So I'm not just gonna sit there in my chair and pretend it's not there--thats what THEY want. Turn that disgust into anger. A fighting spirit. For those left scared and alone in the dark.

Put aside the fixations for now. People on the other side needs our voice--they have no way to speak up. I don't care if I lose followers from this-this is one of the most impactful things I can do. People need our help-and we need to help them any way we can. Reblogs, posts, signatures! Anything can help, as long as it gives those people lost and scared for their lives another tomorrow. As long as people KNOW you care about what's going on.

Again, put aside the fixations. We have the power to give those without a voice, those who are unable to fight, those who are scared as to what's gonna happen a VOICE. And if you're going to ignore this, just because YOU'RE uncomfortable with it? Just block me and call it a day. Simple as that.

It's sickening how people can just support other people shattering the dreams and futures of the next generation.

I've done what I could, now YOU should do what you can do too. I won't be posting for a while, especially with what's going on.

Save the dreams and aspirations of the future. Let our voices be heard. Please. I know I don't usually post like this, but please.

Even something as small as a reblog will do. To spread awareness.

That's all. Take care, and please remember to help those who are lost and scared in the darkness. I'll be back with my usual energy later. But right now, people need our help.

[nutcrawler]

Excerpt from Uncanny X-Men letters page, June 1981:

Dear Marvel, When I was a very awkward teenager, the original X-MEN appeared. It was a godsend of sorts, helping me recover some sense of the goodness of an individuality I'd too often heard labelled "abnormal," "freakish," "gimpy," "weird," and worse. Throughout my high school days I read and enjoyed it. I loved it, but I always wanted some elusive thing more. About two years ago when I decided to collect comics as a hobby, I was introduced to the new X-MEN. I fell in love with the comic, literally at first sight, and have come to love it more and more each passing month. You've created and are continuing to create one of the most striking cycles in modern mass (or folk) literature, of which comics are such an important branch, and something of very great personal meaning to me as well. The "more" I'd been wanting. I and my friends- encounter ourselves so beautifully in this book: in the violence and sensitivity of Wolverine, in Storm's poise and her hidden fears, in Peter's simplicity and his sometimes disastrous impetuosity, in Kitty's spunk and self-consciousness, and in all the myriad, exquisite illustrations of what's grand and funny and uptight and terrible about being human that abound in the heroes and villains and innocent bystanders who people the X-Men's adventures. Very much like the people of the ancient myths, your characters are larger than life but true-to-life representations of our species' experience and of our own. I failed to mention Kurt Wagner above because Nightcrawler is he most special of all the X-Men characters, new or old, to me. I alluded to being physically deformed earlier. I may not be pointy-eared and blue or able to go "bamf," but because my hands and feet are misshaped and I wear an artificial limb I can no more pass for "normal" than Kurt. So it is that his and my life experience and outlook most interlock; and he becomes both a mirror and a self-portrait of sorts, as well as a role model. Like Kurt, and sometimes with or through him, I discover that it truly is better to be a whole "me" than "normal," that humor helps defuse anger and to dissolve self-pity, that one's self is infinitely preferable to any "image," and so much more. It's beautiful-very precious and beautiful-to see in 'Crawler month after month a deformed and physically challenged person endowed with courage, laughter, empathy, loyalty, slyness, skills, stubbornness, temper, anxieties, eccentricities, adventurousness, faith, a romantic spirit, sensuality, sensuousness, grace, charm, poise, self-pity, zaniness, seriousness, curiosity, playfulness, and by turns so many of our human traits. He's a terrific reminder of the ultimate truth too often put glibly and insincerely to America's millions of handicapped citizens: that "freaks" and "normals" share at heart one common human experience, one set of feelings and values and needs. I hope "the misfit" will be around for years—he's great company! - but if #141 were actually the last issue he ever appears in, I'd feel an enormous debt of gratitude towards those who collaborated on this book. There aren't too many characters-in books, comics, movies or elsewhere-that us real-life "misfits" can lock onto to form or celebrate positive images of ourselves. (I can list examples on my fingers and toes: "The Elephant Man," "Long Ago, Tomorrow," "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden," some of Theodore Sturgeon's and Harlan Ellison's science-fiction stories, and the X-MEN.) So I thank you very, very much for entertainment, pleasure, intellectual stimulation, and your terrific example that different can be good-excellent, in fact! You have my gratitude, admiration, affection and best wishes always.

Carolyn Amos Fort Worth, TX

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Trying Out Tickles

Summary: When Merlin chooses to sass him, Arthur decides to test some interesting information he learned about his manservant.

(Merry Christmas @cantsaythetword ! ❤️ :) I was your squealing Santa this year! ❤️ :) I loved the TV show the first time I saw it and instantly knew Merlin had to be ticklish ❤️ :) I hope you have a Happy Holiday however you celebrate, and a great New Year ❤️ :))

"Merlin, you idiot! You'll dent it!"

The dark haired boy cringed as he pulled himself up from the floor. "It's armor Arthur."

"Still. A future king shouldn't appear before his people with dented armor."

"Stop having battles and you'll have nothing to worry about your royal pratness."

As Merlin picked up the dropped armor pieces, Arthur scowled. "I'd advise you not to speak to me like that."

"Yeah well when have I ever listened to your advice."

While Merlin muttered insults and picked up the pieces, a small smile pulled at the corner of the future king's mouth. He knew Merlin never meant any harm. He just did it to get under Arthur's skin. Then, as Merlin gathered the last of the pieces, Arthur took a step toward him. "I want to be able to see myself in the reflection before practice tomorrow."

"Thought you didn't want to dent it?"

"Huh?"

"One look at your face and the whole piece will bend."

Arthur reached to smack the back of Merlin's head. However, the younger boy managed to duck and gave Arthur a playful bump with his hip.

"Oi!"

Merlin smirked. "What about those reflexes your majesty?"

"You know, you're getting on my nerves."

The younger boy dodged another attack from Arthur. "Just have that affect on people."

"Idiot."

"Clotpole!"

"Moron!"

As the last insult left his mouth, Arthur reached forward to poke the younger boy's chest. However, at the sight of Arthur's hand moving, Merlin had reactively turned. So instead of poking his chest, Arthur's finger poked his ribs.

A surprised squeak left Merlin's mouth as he jumped away.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Y-your finger hit a bruise."

Arthur tried to cover up his concern with sarcasm. "Don't be such a girl Merlin."

The younger boy glared at the future king of Camelot. "Then don't be such a dunce!"

Arthur reached forward and poked Merlin's ribs again.

And once again, Merlin squeaked and jumped, but he couldn't quite hide the nervous giggles that followed. "Aharthur!"

Arthur's brow furrowed as he studied the thinner boy. The response did not equal a bruise on the ribs. "Are you sure it's a bruise?"

Merlin immediately backed away. "Yes, and don't gehet any ideheas!"

"Any ideas about what?"

"N-nothing!"

"What's gotten into you Merlin?"

"Nothing!"

Arthur watched with a slight twinge in his heart as the younger man scurried away. How had he gone from cocky to cowering in the blink of an eye? Had he really been that injured? Had someone done something to his ribs? Had Arthur done something? He had seemed fine all day today.

For another moment, the future king mulled over the clues. A memory from an interaction he had accidentally seen between Merlin and his mother Hunith had caused a similar response. He had completely forgotten about it until now. And, if memory served correct, Hunith had used a certain technique that had her son squealing and squirming as he apologized.

What was it she had called it? Something with a T? Arthur thought to himself.

Finally, a light clicked on. It was tickling.

Growing up in the castle, Arthur had never really been tickled before. He had occasionally been tazered on the side or ribs by Morgana, and he had a few memories from his younger days of Gaius spidering some fingers under his chin or behind his ears to distract him from things. However, he had never been properly tickled before and he for sure had never tickled anyone else.

Guess that's about to change.

With a smirk on his face, Arthur followed Merlin. The stables were quiet at this hour and Merlin had been rude to him. So it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Arthur to practice.

Inside the small room, the younger man was busy distracting himself by cleaning the armor pieces he had brought with him. With a grin, Arthur quietly locked the door before stepping closer to his manservant.

Once he was close, he clapped Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin!"

The younger man jumped, sending the pieces clattering to the floor once again. Merlin immediately punched Arthur's arm. "Do you normally annoy people this much or am I just the exception?"

"What has gotten into you Merlin?" The future king firmly grabbed his manservant's wrist. "You've dropped my armor twice, talked to me in a manner not fit to address a future king, and now you're attacking me?"

Merlin growled and tried to free his wrist from the hold. It didn't hurt, but he didn't like the fact that Arthur clearly had more strength than him.

As if to prove that thought, Arthur gently tugged Merlin toward him before quickly turning him around. Two arms then held him in place as he tried to squirm away.

"Arthur!"

"Maybe it's time someone taught you a lesson."

"Go for it! I'm used to the stocks."

"Who said I was putting you in the stocks?"

"What then?" Merlin stiffened. "Are you going to hit me instead?"

"Of course not. That's reserved for people who have done something horrid." The future king lowered them both to the floor. "Not for sassy manservants who are rude to their king."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at the change.

"Just to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

"What are you doing?"

"Something new." Arthur wrapped him in a hug and placed his hands around Merlin's thin sides. "Hunith gave me the idea."

Something about the situation clicked, making the younger man's eyes widen. "Dohon't you dare!"

"Don't do what Merlin?"

Merlin's mouth clamped his mouth shut.

"What Merlin?"

A head shake was his only response.

Arthur tried to bite back a smile as his manservant's squirming picked up again. "I can't stop if you don't tell me what it is I need to stop."

A squeak slipped out when Arthur's hands lightly squeezed. "Arthur!"

"Again, what's wrong Merlin?" The future king squeezed again with a little more force. "Ticklish?"

"Ah! Noho!"

Arthur couldn't hold back the grin on his face as he added in more and more squeezes.

"No! Ah! Clohotpohole!"

"You insulting me does not make me want to stop."

"Jerk!"

The future king's hands slowly squeezed upwards. "What was that?"

Merlin's laughter suddenly broke out when Arthur's hands made contact with his ribs. It didn't help that his thinner frame made it easier to grab and squeeze.

However, for all his squirming and insulting, Merlin never told Arthur to stop, nor did he try to pull away. He stayed squirming in the same place in Arthur's arms.

The future king smirked as he latched on to the spaces between Merlin's ribs. He was going slow and cautiously so he wouldn't hurt his manservant. But it was fun to make him laugh and squirm like a girl.

Why hadn't he done this sooner?

Suddenly a random idea popped in to his mind. "Merlin? How many ribs does the human body have?"

"IHI DOHONT KNOHOW!"

"Well why don't we see?"

"WHAT!"

After placing his hands on Merlin's bottom most ribs, Arthur squeezed. "One."

"AH!"

Then his hands moved to the next two. "Two."

"NO!"

The next rib was squeezed. "Three."

"ARTHUR!"

"Quiet Merlin. Now look what you've done. I've lost count and have to start all over again."

"No yohou dOHONT!"

Over and over went Arthur's hands, turning Merlin into a cackling, snorting mess.

"Ugh, I'm bored now." The future kings hands dug into Merlin's stomach. "What's hiding down here?"

The younger man squeaked as he curled into a ball.

"Ah, so it's a curling spot I see."

"Shut uhup!"

"Interesting, but not very entertaining." Arthur experimentally squeezed Merlin's hip. "What about here?"

Merlin jumped! His laughter shot up in volume and he let out a wheeze.

"Oo, that's more like it."

The younger man shoved Arthur's chest and tried to worm away but he was quickly pulled back.

"Let's see if we can find another one."

"Lehet's nohot!"

"Come now Merlin." This time Arthur's hand wormed its way into the younger man's armpit. "Didn't Hunith teach you to share?"

While not as ticklish as his hips, Merlin's armpits still produced a ton of laughter and squirms. Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this atleast a little bit. Merlin looked absolutely adorable and his contagious smile brought one to the future king's face too.

He decided to try one more thing before releasing the breathless younger man. Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips against Merlin's neck before blowing hard. In response, Merlin squealed and kicked his legs just as he had for Hunith.

Once he was through, Arthur held Merlin close a little longer. "Now, if you get sassy again, I'll be forced to use same technique again."

The younger man kicked the future king's leg. "Dohont you dahare!"

"Ticklish idiot."

"Thihich headed Prahat!"

Arthur squeezed his knee. "Try that again?"

"AH! Yohou're royal prahatness!"

"That's more like it." The future king teased before playfully shoving him away. "Now come on, my armor still needs cleaning."

Merlin muttered, "Clean it yourself."

Arthur raised one eyebrow.

Merlin scurried to his feet and re-prepped the armor pieces for cleaning.

Arthur chuckled before heading out of the room. He trusted Merlin's work, but if he pushed the future king again, he may just have to use Hunith's tickle tactics all over again.

[donnerpartyofone]

I'm on your Tumblr because we used to be mutuals, but I'm more of a lurker these days and I've remade several times under different handles and understand exasperation/hesitation at refollowing. I'm sincerely not trying to bait anything here, it's just that I've been depressed for the majority of 2024, and I think a really bad habit I've fallen into is not expressing gratitude to those who have a genuine impact on me. I'm sorry if this is uncanny and too parasocial. I have always admired how incredibly self-possessed and well-spoken/read/watched/cultured you are. I get an older sibling vibe from you that I never had growing up. You are one of the smarter people in the room for me. Sorry I'm sending this on anon, you don't have to publish it, in fact I hope you don't! I think you're one of the best blogs on this site and many things you have posted/blogged about have caused me to dig deeper within myself. In recent times, I appreciate that you force a situationally depressed individual (me) to challenge themselves for the better, if that makes sense. I'm sorry if this is disturbing!

[posted with permission] Man I have not been able to wake up all day for some reason and I owe some writing tomorrow, so this is actually a really helpful warmup exercise to try to get myself moving/thinking. I really appreciate this. I think your idea about expressing gratitude is really important and it's something I've been trying to do also, though maybe in a broader sense, like if I see a really inspiring movie (or whatever) I try to follow the impulse to write to the filmmaker and tell them. In my mind there's this invisible wall between creators and "fans" and that's usually fake; it's very likely that the people who made some of your favorite media are not rich, their futures are not secure, and they don't even necessarily know how their work has affected people. Worst case scenario they don't write you back, but only a snob would be actually bothered, and sometimes you even make a friend. I think the same principle can be applied to, you know, bloggers or whoever. Certainly I run this blog for myself first and foremost and I don't think I would or could stop even if absolutely no one was paying attention--it's a real compulsion and I think it's reasonably healthy to find ways to be in conversation with yourself--but it's valuable to know when you've been understood by anyone at all.

Not to make it weird but in Hebrews I think there's that verse, "If today you hear the voice of God, harden not your heart." That's really powerful outside the bounds of religion. To me it means, when you get that shred of energy or inspiration that says "I could do the dishes right now," do them immediately before you can talk yourself out of it! When you get that little spark that is so easily snuffed out by overthinking and taking that dangerous minute to round up excuses, that spark that you might be able to do the laundry, send the letter, watch the tough movie you're "never in the mood" for, pick up the book instead of watching TV, take a fucking walk, whatever it is: if you practice surrendering to these impulses immediately, almost without deciding, your life can really start to expand. Actually I believe it literally keeps your brain alive, to keep making it process new information, even if it seems trivial or you don't fully feel like it. But anyway a lot of us don't follow the impulse to say to someone "Hey, I think you're doing a good job" because it's so easy to imagine lots of different reasons they won't like it. But honestly that's unlikely (as long as you're not demanding something in return), and if someone responds poorly to that then chances are they're kind of an asshole.

(I mean sometimes I fail to respond to a message or an obvious social cue but it's usually because I just get overwhelmed by other parts of life and/or I'm not extremely skilled in forming and maintaining connections in any normal way. But it's rare that somebody has tried to reach out to me and I was like secretly hating them for it.)

Depression is really hard to talk about--I mean it's easy to VENT about, but it can be hard to converse about. There's that (American?) thing where you feel like no one should say anything that isn't *CEO voice* solution-oriented, and that's when people either avoid the topic entirely or react with all kinds of unwelcome and/or irrational advice. I have the illusion of being all full of wisdom on this because I've been severely depressed since I was really little and obviously there's something wrong with my whole operating system, but one of my best friends--who is not naturally depressive--is in such a bad way and it's not her fault and possibly there is no way out for real, and of course I have the urge to pump her up and keep her afloat, but if I'm too positive it will be totally dishonest. I have to split the difference between cheering her up and like, not lying to her. I'd be a total hypocrite if I denied her the understanding and acknowledgement of darkness that I myself always want and rarely get. It's hard, but on the individual basis it's useful to try to map the nature of your own depression and notice how it operates; just observe and take notes even if you can't see a way to control it right now. It sounds like you're doing some of that, there is a lot of dignity in that activity.

These are my thoughts off the cuff, with any luck they provoke something useful. Now I feel like I'm finally ready to shower and have ill-advised beverages and do my stupid homework assignment. Thank you for your thoughts, and the helpful prompt, and I hope you have a good day and/or night, for real.

[beanieman]

A Very Specific Scenario That Reminds Me Of YTTD Characters But I Don't Elaborate On Why

Sara Chidouin - You're at the library looking for a book that calls to you. There's no specific genre or title you're looking for, just a sense of wanting something to read. Standing between the shelves, you spot some friends looking for a book. They greet you with a wave before you group up for a joint search. The idea seemed great until you get kicked out of the library for causing a disturbance.

Joe Tazuna - You tell a joke in a crowded room. Everyone laughs and looks at you like you're the funniest person in the vicinity. You'll spend the rest of your life chasing that high.

Gin Ibushi - A stray cat approaches you on the street. It's fluffy body rubs against your leg as it happily purrs in affection. For a moment you think it wants to go home with you, then you recall the leftover sandwich you have in your bag from lunch. You throw a part of the meat to the cat and it runs off with it quickly. You'd be offended if you weren't so amused.

Keiji Shinogi - You people watch as you sit on the park bench. You see a couple walking their dog walking hand in hand. You hear siblings loudly arguing about who will get the front seat. You taste smoke as a woman walks by with a cigarette, her hoodie looking made out of a soft fabric you can imagine the texture of. You smell cheap cologne as a man passes through. He meets your eyes and nods as if he understands what you're doing. It's the most relaxing part of the day.

More Undercut

Alice Yabusame - After seeing a picture of someone attractive online, you decide to cut your hair to mirror their style. The scissors are gripped tightly in your hand as you raise the blade to the strands of hair you no longer want to have. As the first cut removes a chunk of hair, you gasp to yourself, realizing you didn't mean to take off quite so much. Your next step is to quickly Google the names of hairstylists in your area, hoping one of them will have an appointment open for tomorrow.

Reko Yabusame - An energetic song plays over the car radio as you drive toward your road trip destination. Friends sit in the seats beside you sharing inside jokes and telling stories you've all created together. A part of you can't wait to get there and see what adventures await you, another wishes the moment would never end.

Nao Egokoro - You're a child on a summer afternoon who's been playing the pool for hours. The water is pleasantly warm, and your hair reeks of chlorine as the adult present asks if you want a popsicle. A grin races across your face as you enthusiastically request your favorite flavor.

Kazumi Mishima - You find an old journal tucked away in your dresser that you decide to read. You see the words and know they were yours, but they no longer belong to you. The version of you that wrote those logs is long gone as you've changed into a different person through the years. The realization couldn't be more bittersweet.

Q-taro Burgerberg - You struggle to lift the large box from the floor, your arms aching as the weight resists your grasp. You're about to give up and let someone else complete the task when a stranger greets you with a friendly smile and offers help. With their assistance, the box is moved with ease, their presence only lasting a brief moment longer as they wave goodbye and continue with their day. You still think of them from time to time.

Kai Satou - It's your first time cooking a new dish. Ingredients are laid out on the counter along with a recipe you plan to follow step by step. You're excited to try something new and nervous about what could go wrong. Even still, you do your best, and despite a few small mistakes, you're able to make a wonderful meal that makes you proud.

Kanna Kizuchi - The night should be dark, but you see a small light hovering by your face as the humid summer air engulfs you. You hold your hand out and let the small firefly land on your palm. It glows a vibrant light that makes you feel like a small child once more catching fireflies with your brother until your Mother calls you inside. You're torn from the memory when the bug flies off your hand toward the other lights shining vibrantly like a star.

Shin Tsukimi - You take a nap in the late afternoon and don't wake up until the moon is high in the sky. After a brief period of confusion, you walk through your house for a glass of water and realize everyone else went to bed long ago. You're the only one awake and decide to play on your phone until sunrise or sleep greets you. The bright light of your device illuminates your face as you open an app and start to scroll.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - Your finger hovers over the send button as you look down at the text and read the message you wrote once more. It's a simple line of "Hey. How are you?" meant for a friend that faded from your life with time. A thousand questions and worries race through your mind as you wonder if it's worth sending, before eventually deciding against it.

Naomichi Kurumada - You settle into your seat at the theater for a movie you've looked forward to seeing since it was announced. The lights dim and you look up to the screen in joy as the title card flickers in. You glace at the people around you and they all share the same excited energy.

Anzu Kinashi - Your friend recommends you a new media that seems like it would be your thing. You only have to indulge in this media for a little bit to understand that this is going to be something that sticks with you. A rush of excitement pulses through your brain as you text friend to say how much you enjoyed it before looking for fandom content.

Mai Tsurugi - It's a major holiday and your family hosts. You wake up with the scent of food wafting through the air and the sound of a Hallmark movie is playing in the living room. You jump out of bed to help in the kitchen with a giddy feeling you only have at certain times of the year.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - You cross another item off your to do list as the late afternoon arrives and you aren't done with your chores. There's plenty left to do, and a frustrated sigh leaves your lips at the realization you're getting very little down time today.

Hinako Mishuku - Jack-o-lanterns cover the street as kids excitedly knock on each door looking a trick or treat. You put on your costume to greet them and hand out the candy they desire. Once the last child has left into the night you turn on your tv and flick through the various scary movies playing to decide which one will thrill you with scares tonight.

[farfromstrange]

GUESS WHO FINALLY GOT HER WI-FI BACK!

Me, that’s right.

Which means I can start writing again, and I won’t be MIA for much longer. Thank you all for being so understanding. I can’t wait to catch up on all that I’ve missed and interact with you all again.

Putting a read more now for those who don’t want to read this little life update.

Uni starts in less than two weeks, and I’m pretty nervous about how that’s going to affect the time I have to write because I’ve already got a reading assignment and I’m way behind on that. But anyway, I’ll find time. I’ve been gone for so long, I need to get back into it. And it’ll help me get through Uni if I write a lot in my free time. I’m majoring in English and minoring in sociology, after all.

So, I’m going to watch the Eras Tour Movie tonight, which means I’m obviously not going to be able to write tonight, but tomorrow’s Saturday and I’ve got no plans, so I’m definitely getting back to it then. And I’ll see what I can do about Kinktober because my fingers are ITCHING.

AND I finally finished my wall, for those of you who care. Call me interior designer for fangirls because I really am proud of my own work this time around.

There’s still space for me to continue the wall of fame, so obviously it’s going to grow

And I’ve got another one.

I tried my absolute best to make the apartment 100% ME. And it worked, I think.

Anyway, I’m about to leave, and since I haven’t made any new friends in this city, I hope meeting fellow Swifties and sharing friendship bracelets will get me some contacts around here. It can’t hurt to try and socialize a bit, right?

I made SO MANY bracelets because I had no Wi-Fi and was stuck with the old criminal minds DVD’s I still got lying around here, but I have to say, it’s been kind of refreshing as well. I feel like a caveman, but not in a bad way. I didn’t use as much social media and I got creative a lot more, so that’s a good thing, I guess. It was a forced retreat, but it felt like one nonetheless.

I’ve got a whole ring of friendship bracelets and I hope to a God I don’t believe in that I’m allowed to take them into the theater or I’m gonna be sad.

Anyway, here’s a picture of my outfit because I feel like I’ve slayed with that.

I’ve been gone for so long, I hope you guys appreciated my little life update. And if not, I’m sorry for bothering you with this on your dash.

More news about my writing and everything else concerning this account coming tomorrow when I’ve finished going through all my notifications and drafts, and then I’ll make a post to tell you guys more about what’s to come and when to expect it.

Until then, I love you, take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you soon!

[thatdorkyauthor]

Hey I see your taking requests, I’ve been having a hard week so if possible can you have starscreamsm soothing his human s/o after they have an anxiety or panic attack after a really exhausting week

If not that’s ok have a good day or night

⛈ Anon

I saw this one after my latest posts and immediately started, I'm so sorry love, for not getting to this earlier. I hope it has been going better for you. I have done a bit of research as I'm not that familiar with anxiety or panic attacks before writing this. Again I'm so sorry. I hope this is to your liking.

Starscream would not know what to do.

Probably would shrug it off at first, not seeing how much it affects you, before realizing how wrong it was and will try to comfort you.

PANIC

Doesn't like the fact that his favorite human on the entire face of the planet earth is having a difficult time.

Will threaten people after you calmed down. HOW DARE they make your life difficult.

Sucks at calming people down but can distract people greatly by talking.

He does his best.

Deadlines, having to see people you didn't like, having to work with said people, things not going the way as planned. You were done. To much had happened, your bucket was full, another droplet would let it overflow. Starscream, hadn't noticed it at first, shrugging it off as just being tired after a long day, and didn't question about it to much, that was until the end of the week. "I'm so sorry dear." He had activated his holoform for you after he realized what was happening. He didn't know how to help, so the first half an hour Starscream frantically tried to find out how to calm you down, which in a way helped but not in the way he had hoped. His attempts failed but it did get your mind off the things that had managed to make you panic.

His arms were wrapped around you as he held you closely on the place he had build for you in his berthroom. Mainly existing from blankets and pillows. 'It will be okay.' He tried. 'Tomorrow will be a new day, a new start of the week. It'll all be better.' He glanced over you, trying to see if his words had any effects, which proved to be difficult as your face was buried in his chest. 'Would it make you feel better if I got rid of those humans for you?' He frowned as you shook your head, how else would he be able to prevent those pesky creatures from bothering you, whether is was with extra work or social activities. 'You being here is enough.' He barely heard you words, but he did and smiled softly. 'Then I'll stay here.' He mumbled softly, somewhat tightening his grip on you. He wasn't planning on letting you go any time soon, at least not until you were feeling better.

[hel-phoenyx]

15) The Bitch is Dead

Kaizarz and Matilda are @corneille-but-not-the-author's characters

The streets of Alfsjland are completely covered in black, today. I spot in some corners a little pit of purple, but it's the only color visible to my eyes, except for my own clothes, or my sons.

Junior is starting to walk, so today I was trustful enough to bring him in the city. I had groceries to buy anyway, and maybe I could try to find a job. Mom and Dad's fortune is waning by the day and I can't count on Tyrfing anymore.

The thought alone is enough to make me shiver in rage.

But Tyrfing is not important today. He didn't show his face since two years, anyway, it's like he's dead for everyone. He is, to me. But I hardly doubt such grief is for a fallen prince, even if people, from what I know, are unaware of what really happened on that boat.

Everyone walks with their heads low, and some of the bourgeoisie are even crying. Fake tears, no doubt, but they're people that could be executed if we didn't see the cry.

All of that is enough of a hint, but just to be sure, I hail a woman passing next to me. She has a child, too, so I can always call for her motherly pity if I am recognised.

"Excuse me ? I haven't been in the city for long, why is there so many grieving manifestations ?"

The woman pinches her lips.

"Ah, you must be from the contryside, if you haven't heard ! Her Majesty Matilda IIIrd died yesterday after a long agony, so we're grieving like we should for a sovereign !"

Her tone of voice is telling enough. She is absolutely not affected by her death, and if she wasn't in the open, with a woman she doesn't know, she would have told me the news with a smile.

But what she thinks is not important.

So the bitch is dead.

Ha.

Mom would have been so happy.

I nod, and take junior in my arms. If really Matilda is dead, we're even more in danger to be recognised. I may be dirty, considerably thinner that before and my hair only is starting to grow back from the grief haircut, but the second I'm spotted and it's all over.

Junior is technically an heir to the crown, after all. And if Tyrfing doesn't reappear, he may be the next in line.

"Thanks, ma'am. I take it the coronation is soon ?"

"Tomorrow, in fact. Those old crows at the council are in a rush to put his Highness on the throne, we've got the shortest grief period for a king I've ever seen. And I've seen Hrogni die, my good lady."

I try to keep a composed face hearing the name of my grandfather. Please, gods, whatever is hearing me, make so that she doesn't notice she's talking to his granddaughter.

Junior is squirming in my arms, but I keep him close. Anxiety will get the better of me if I don't let go. He's the only one I have left. I can't let people take him from me.

"This is not surprising, even where I'm from I heard his Highness is one of the most popular heirs to the throne in a long time."

Even though it hurts so much to say it. I hope no one can taste the acid in my mouth. Not even junior.

It's not good to show hatred to the king in those times and ages.

And of course, the woman nods and smiles.

"For sure. So young, and he managed to at least halt so many of the crises this country is going through. With him on the throne, we're sure to prosper, and who knows, maybe we'll stop this war !"

I don't believe it one second. He wasn't even able to stop a tragedy.

But I can't say that to that lady. She would treat me with far less kindness. And maybe the smile she is giving me would falter even more surely than my husband's life.

"I've heard the entire city is invited to the coronation, that the palace is gonna be open to everyone! Maybe I'll go, if I can afford a day of. Will you, my good lass ?"

I smile.

It is far too forced.

"Maybe."

But I already know the answer.

Seeing him with the crown on his head would be far too painful.

****

I was fishing on the shore, to redo my food stock, and maybe earn a coin or two. It's easy for me to fish, after all. I call upon me the sea creatures, and a spell leaves them helpless in my hand. It's one of the only reasons I didn't die yet, even if I so badly wanted to.

Anyway, I was fishing on the shore. Hidden from most, like usual; far away from my home, just in case. That's probably why I hear footsteps on the sand, on the other side of the cliff.

Besides some people from my past, I haven't heard humans for so long. It may be why I stopped what I was doing to get closer and eavesdrop. I won't get better ways to learn about news from the kingdom, after all.

They're two. Two children, teenagers maybe ; not older than I was when I last sailed. They're wearing ragged clothes, their faces are covered on dirt and under the clothing I can feel their thinness, but they're smiling like War herself gave them the wooden weapons they're holding.

"Haven't you heard ?" says one of them to his friend. "The Mad Queen is dead !"

"No way. How did you know that ?"

"I went to steal some bread in the market today and heard some people talking about it ! And then I asked Lucja and she said that they were right, that we're burying her today !"

They're still chirping, with the enthousiasm I would expect from kids, but I can't hear their words anymore.

So the Mad Queen is finally dead. She was, from what I can remember, in agony even two years ago. Constantly confined in her room, not talking to anyone ; at that point, she was queen only by name. Her son took over the regency something like three years ago.

That's what caused the biggest unrest.

I haven't heard anything else since then. Maybe because I, myself, became a shut-in. But if the queen is dead, and the children are talking about it with so much enthousiasm... I guess there is still an heir left.

Again, I pricked up my ear. The teens are still talking, with even more enthousiasm.

"The coronation is tomorrow," says one of them, the one that warned his comrade of the death of the Mad Queen. "And the people are invited ! I wanna go so badly..."

"You can't, your mom's going to kill you if you don't work a day ! We still need to eat, remember ?"

"Yeah, but that suuuucks ! I wanted to see the king ! Is he as tall as the legends say ?"

I sigh.

Knowing him, probably even taller.

So the day has come. Kaizarz is finally getting crowned. This was bound to happen, after all, but I can't help my heart to sink in my chest. The future really is unmovable, isn't it ?

A long time ago, I would have been delighted. Today it's just making me... I don't know. Sad. Woeful. I don't know. It doesn't feel as bad as it could, tho.

His coronation is tomorrow.

I promised him I'll be there when I was eight.

Today I'm almost eighteen, and that promise doesn't hold much weight anymore.

But

Maybe I can still keep it.

Maybe I'll see you tomorrow

my friend.

[2346khith]

Hello,

The war in Gaza has had a huge impact on families, including mine. 💔

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Your donation, no matter how small, will make a big difference. 🌟

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For those who see this please, visit their blog and reblog their blog’s posts so they  get more attention and if you have the money to spare please donate.

Also I apologize, but I do not have the ability to donate to you. Trust me if I had the ability I would but I don't and I can't. I have no bank account or credit card to transfer money to and no job to gain any money. Every time I ask my parents to help they shut me down so this is the only way to help you. Please forgive me.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Voice Through the Nothingness Part 6

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Contains: Angst, fluff, death of a child, hurt/comfort, still a slow burn but I'm teasing you with flirting.

4.5 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged or follow #a voice through the nothingness.

“Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.”- Isaac Asimov.

"These fucking stitches won't stop itching." Thomas had recovered in leaps and bounds since Billy started working with him. He was in online school four days a week, making strides in rehab and his videos had drawn in five high paying clients after their kids saw his videos online.

"Well don't itch them unless you want Hazel to appear from nowhere and yell at you." Billy loved his daily rehab session, not just because he got to work on getting better but because he got to watch Hazel in action.

"Dude just ask her out, you're clearly into each other." Billy hoped it wasn't that obvious, he was doing his best to hide it.

"We're just friends, plus, she's basically my nurse, it would be weird." Dr Charles had brought it up in passing that sometimes patients develop feelings for their caretakers but Billy dismissed it, giving him some line about only dating models.

"I have some news." Thomas sounded conflicted.

"Your parents told me, you'll still have your job once you're discharged." The one thing that was getting hard was watching people leave, sure Billy could do the basics but he couldn't live on his own yet and living in the hospital was getting old.

"I'm going to apply for college classes through the online school, I was wondering if I could use an office at Anvil to study while the house is being built?" The job had paid so well that Thomas' parents had been able to buy a derelict lot where they were going to build a house.

"Hell yeah. I'll get it set up for when so it's ready when you leave." As the disappointment at his limitations came over him Billy put all his energy into his next goal. In truth, he didn't have to do much more before he could finally go home, it was just that those few more steps felt like he was walking across the world.

****

"That place was so fancy. Shit if we had that at the VA life would be easy." Curtis had come to Billy's rehab session that day and had spent his whole time swapping stories with the staff.

"Why doesn't someone bring it up to one of those congressmen you guys protect? I'm sure there'll be something in it for them." Billy had to give it to Hazel, she was always coming up with solutions.

"Why not? Politicians love a good comeback story." Billy was ready to get back out there and all this talk about Anvil was making him itch but right now, Hazel and Lizzy were enjoying their break while he and Curt waited for the football game to come on.

"Can you pass me more fries please?" Billy reached across the table and passed her a handful before she dipped them in sauce and tucked in.

"Real classy, Hazel. You know it's rude to eat so fast?" Billy felt she chest swell with affection for Lizzy, he could tell how close her and Hazel were.

Hazel gasped in mock offence, "Hey, I'm super classy."

Lizzy huffed, "I once watched you eat a jumbo burrito in six bites while hunched over a sink."

Hasel tossed a balled up napkin at her "hey, what happens on a double stays on a double."

Curtis chuckled, "Don't worry Hazel, we've all been there."

Billy smiled and stole a fry off her plate, "yeah, Frank once opened an MRE pouched and down it in one swallow."

Hazel's eyes went wide and she laughed as the vision took over her brain, "wow, I don't know how he managed that but I'm impressed."

Before Billy could reply, a beeping pulled Hazel's attention away, "well looks like I'm needed back on the ward. I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

Billy nodded, "yep, I can't wait."

Hazel huffed and gave him that half smile he had learned meant something unpleasant was coming, "you say that now but you have another capacity test tomorrow and I'm not letting the doc go easy on you."

Billy was hit with a mix of emotions, anxiety, apprehension and excitement. "Well then, I better prepare myself."

"Yeah, you better."

****

Billy was awash with nerves as he slowly walked to the occupational therapist's office for his capacity test. It was only four days ago that Thomas was talking about getting ready to leave and now it seemed Billy was in the same place.

"Where's Hazel?" She told Billy she would be there and she was nowhere to be seen.

Lizzy swallowed, "something's happened with one of her patients, I don't think she'll be coming but I'm sure she'll do her best."

Billy rubbed his face as his anger grew, logical he knew she couldn't always be there and there were plenty of times in the past when she was busy working and couldn't spend time with him but as he was leaning in therapy, emotions weren't logical.

"Then were's the fucking doctor?" Billy just wanted this over so he could go back to his room and work on his program.

Lizzy pointed down the hall with a sigh, "just there. Try not to Hulk out, please. If you get through this you've got six more tests to go and then you can go home but if you take a step back emotionally they won't let you leave."

Billy took a deep breath, remembered what Dr Charles had taught him and centred himself as the doctor approached, "alright, we better get this over and done with."

"That's just what I like to hear Mr Russo. Step into my office and we'll start." The doctor opened the door and Billy stepped through, the room was filled with household furniture and exercise equipment. There was a bathtub, steps of various sizes, short balance beams and a handful of things that Billy didn't recognise.

"We'll start over there at the steps, I'll get you to place the ball of your left foot of the edge and try and balance without holding onto the rails." Billy focused on what he had been learning in rehab and tensed his core as he followed the doctor's instructions. It took some doing but he managed to balance without wobbling and the doctor smiled, "good, swap feet please."

The right foot was easier and Billy felt his confidence grow, "good job, now you're going to walk up the steps backwards, do your best to not hold on." Billy turned on his heel and focused on the wall in front of him as he took the first step, then the next, and the next.

"A little bit faster please." Billy felt the frustration rear its head again, he was trying his best but he still did what he was told, "good. See that bathtub over there?" Billy nodded, "You're going to stand next to it and we're going to practice stepping over the edge and getting inside. Once you have that down, I'm going to spread some water on the inside and we'll see how you do on slippery surfaces."

Billy was done, he couldn't stop the rage he felt come over him, "Fucking hell, I'm not some old fuck in my nineties with a broken hip. I've been showering alone for months if you'd taken any time to look at my chart. And who the fuck walks upstairs backwards anyway?" He wanted this over so he could go back to his room, if he thought he was going to waste his time doing this shit, he wouldn't have bothered.

Billy wasn't going to hit the doctor but he wanted to, "Where's Hazel? You can't explain anything for shit and I'm getting sick of it." The look on Lizabeth's face only spurred Billy on, "how the fuck is anyone meant to get better when you don't tell them anything. You clearly don't…"

Lizabeth stepped closer with her hands raised, "Billy, you're right, the doctor should be explaining everything but what's done is done. How about we all sit down and go through what you have left to do and the doctor can explain why, how does that sound?"

Billy took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down, "yeah that sounds good."

Lizzy glared at the doctor one last time before waving towards the desk, "you ask him any questions you have and I'm sure we'll be back to the ward before you can blink."

****

Billy couldn't stop looking at the clock, Hazel was late for her visit and she was never late, "where is she?" His fingers tapped like he was trying to drill a hole in the bed.

"I don't know man, maybe she's busy. There was a huge pile up yesterday, she might have extra kids to take care of." Frank was worried, Billy should be happy he passed his test and was one step closer to going home but all he could focus on was that Hazel wasn't there to celebrate with him.

"Her shift it over, she should be here." A part of Billy's mind knew he was being stupid, she might have had to pick up another shift but she always dropped by to let him know when she had done that before.

"Dude, calm down. Hazel doesn't need to be here every time you do something, being without her isn't going to kill you." Frank understood why Billy was acting this way but it didn't make him worry any less. "I'll go see with Liz knows what's going on, maybe she'll tell you why Hazel isn't here."

Frank left Billy the stew in his feelings, the realisation of their absurdity coming over him as he sat in the quiet. At least Dr Charles was coming later so he could talk to him about how he was feeling.

When Lizzy walked in, he knew something was wrong, "I'm sorry Billy, I really thought Hazel would be here. I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe you can offer her a shoulder once she comes. A kid was hurt badly in the pile up yesterday, it's been touch and go all night but he took a turn this morning. She's sitting with him until he passes."

Billy was hit with a wave of shame, he had no reason to complain, "where's his family?"

Liz shook her head, "he's a foster kid, he doesn't have anyone. She paged me about half an hour ago to let me know it won't be long. She should be here in a little bit."

Billy swallowed, "maybe she should go home a rest, it's not like I have to see her today."

Liz gave Billy a soft smile, "nah, I'm sure she wants to stop in and say hello. Dr Charles will be here in ten anyway so you'll have something to occupy you before she arrives."

"Thanks Lizzy, I'm sorry I was an asshole today." Billy knew he shouldn't have yelled at the doctor but he couldn't help it.

"It's fine, but I expect you to talk to your shrink about it." She didn't sound upset at him but she did sound sad.

"I will, don't worry."

****

Dr Charles arrived right on time and Billy was grateful he could read people so well because he looked sad too, "Have you seen Hazel today?"

Dr Charles nodded, "I did. I'm sure Lizzy let you know why she hasn't stopped by."

Billy nodded, "yeah, is she ok? I know you can't me a lot but doing that can't be easy."

He gave Billy a soft smile as he sat down, "No I can't tell you much but she's how you would expect. It is the healer's paradox, to be good at your job you have to get attached, but if you get too attached, then you can't do your job effectivity. I hear you passed another test today, you must be proud of yourself?"

"I don't know doc, I thought I would be but I'm just pissed off." Billy knew this was normal, he had good days and bad days.

"Well has something upset you or are you just upset?" This was a common question in their session, the answer was always mixed.

"I want to go home and I'm sick of being treated like I can't do anything for myself. There's no point in talking about what I was before the explosion I know that but I want to move on." Billy didn't know what he was trying to say but he learned that's ok too.

"You're allowed to be angry that you feel stuck, most people would in your situation. How have the nightmares been?" Billy had been coming off the meds slowly, Hazel was right, the dreams are weird.

"Not terrible, I'm still sleeping at least five hours and I can remember them when I wake up. I've been dreaming about my mother a lot more." He took a breath, "I hate her sometimes."

"Who wouldn't, she left you all alone in the world. What happens in these dreams?" Dr Charles was always so kind, it was easy for Billy to answer.

"I dream about how I found her but this time she's dead and her eyes shoot open and she's screaming at me, blaming me for everything. I would have given her the world, I would have given her everything she ever wanted if she had just wanted me." His breath caught in his throat.

Dr Charles paused so Billy could compose himself, "But you still took her in. You got her to one of the best care homes in the city and you visited her every week before you got hurt so you do care for her. If she could answer your questions, what would be the first thing you would ask?"

"Why she didn't love me enough to keep me? I've seen the parents in rehab, they would do anything for their kids but my mother abandoned me. I want to ask her if she ever thought of me, I know she never checked on me, she could have taken me out of that group home but she didn't." Deep down, Billy knew why, she was a drug addict most of her life, the only time she was sober was when she was carrying him and the moment he was out, she was using again, she couldn't be a mother.

Dr Charles nodded, "I think her giving you up was a sign that she loved you and I'm sure that if she could have kept you she would have. You're very likely leaving here in the next month, how do you feel about being able to see her again?"

"I don't know. Frank's been keeping an eye on her so I know she's doing ok. It would have been nice to have her here." Billy was feeling better by the moment but he always felt that was during his therapy sessions.

"You're allowed to not know, that's what we're here to sort out. We have some more time, how about we pick up where we left of yesterday and walk through the explosion again?" Billy could remember most of it now, he could even remember parts of the ambulance ride but there were still blanks and he hated it.

"Sure doc, I'd like that."

****

Knock knock

Billy was expecting the dinner cart but when he looked up he was greeted by Hazel with a little while box in her hand, "hello." 

Billy smiled, "hello, what do you have there?" 

"I made some cupcakes yesterday, I brought you one to celebrate your success in your assessment today." Despite her smile, she sounded so sad. 

"Wow, cupcakes from home. You must have a lot of faith in me if you brought it in without knowing it I'd pass." Frank had gone on and on about how great her food was, he only wished he could try for food under happier circumstances. 

She sat next to him at the table and slid the box across, "I do. The cupcake is triple chocolate with chocolate icing." 

Billy opened the box, the icing was beautifully piped, and little chocolate shavings were dotted around the icing peaks, "shit this looks good." 

Hazel smiled, "please wait till you have dinner, I don't want to ruin your meal." 

Billy chuckled, "sure." She still seemed sad, even if she was doing her best to hide it, "Liz told me what happened today, are you doing alright?" 

Hazel shrugged, "no but I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've had to do something like that and it won't be the last. I'm sure you've been there before too, comforting someone in their last moments is easier than you think it's going to be." 

Billy nodded, "I've been there more times that I like to count, but you're right, it's strange how easy it is." 

"His name was Harry, I didn't get to talk to him but he was wearing truck socks. The end was peaceful." Hazel's eyes were stuck on a stain on the table. 

"You did the right thing staying with him, it happened a few times when I was a kid. The nurses always made things better." He reached across the table and took her hand in his, it feel like too long since he had touched her. 

"No one should be alone at the end, I don't understand why he didn't matter like everyone else." Hazel's effort to take a deep breath and compose herself failed and her chest heaved. Billy slid around and wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her head in his neck as she started to cry. 

Something about it felt right, like this was what Billy was supposed to be doing. He could see himself being there for Hazel after a long day at work, sitting with her on the couch while she talked about her day. Her arms slid around his body and he hugged her tighter as she calmed down, "You're getting so strong." 

Billy chuckled, "yeah, like you said, you're kinda mean. I'm worried if I don't lift enough weights, you'll hit me with them." Her laugh filled his chest with warmth. 

Hazel pulled away and wiped her face with a sniff, "I'm sorry, that wasn't really appropriate." 

Billy waved his hand, "no, it's fine, we all need a hug sometimes. Maybe you should stay here for a while? You can get dinner from the cafe and we can watch some MMA reruns, you know, end the day on a good note." 

Hazel smiled, "that actually sounds really good." They shifted around and Hazel settled next to him while Billy turned on the TV, "you wanna get something from the cafe too? We can use my discount." 

Billy smiled, "sure, what's good?" 

Hazel thought for a moment, "only four things, the fries, the cheese melt, the greek salad and the ice cream sundaes." 

"The cheese melt sounds good, maybe we can get two of those and two salads?" Billy was happy that Hazel didn't sound sad anymore. 

"Good idea, we can order when the meal cart comes along." Hazel shifted closer and their knees touched but she made move to shift away. 

"Can I share my cupcake with you?" I'll feel bad if I'm the only one enjoying it." Billy wasn't going to lie, he was trying to charm her. 

"I'm not going to say no to that." The way she looked at him made Billy think it was working, "I have some good news, Thomas' last day is on Friday, we're going to have a little party for him and it would make everyone really happy if you were there." 

Billy smiled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

****

Friday came in a rush of more time with the occupational therapist and Billy running himself ragged to make his next milestone so he could leave. He was happy to go to Thomas' party, he even got Frank to bring him a nice pair of jeans and a dress shirt.

When he walked into rehab, Hazel was already there in a set of light blue scrubs covered in sunflowers and a party hat. The smile she gave Billy when she saw him lit up the room and she waved him over with a flurry. He smiled at her as he took in the details of her scrubs, "you look nice."

"So do you, I love the shirt." For the first time in his adult life, a compliment from a beautiful woman had him feeling shy.

"Are these your party clothes?" Billy wondered what Hazel looked like in a dress, he imagined she could look good in anything.

"Yep, I only own scrubs so I have this set when I have to go somewhere fancy. I have a lacy set for dates." Billy took a deep breath, she was flirting with him and he was going to give it right back.

"Ooo, red or black?" He had no idea what had changed but he liked it.

"Green, it suits me." He could see she was holding back a giggle but she didn't do a very good job and with a smile from him her face was breaking out into a grin.

"When you two are done with the foreplay, you wanna come and celebrate?" Lizabeth had been looking at Billy strangely since the night Hazel showed up in his room and he wondered if Hazel had told her something.

"Sorry Lizzy, we'll be right there." Hazel turned back to Billy with a smile, "no funny business now, we got to keep room for Jesus when we dance."

Billy shook his head, "I wouldn't dream of it."

****

This was the most fun party Billy had been to in a long time, over the course of his stay, Hazel had taught him that children had much richer lives than he thought and he found himself listening to them go on and on with genuine interest.

Right now, he was chatting with one of Thomas' friends from the ward about how New York had the best Pizza because of its water. Hazel was looking at him every now and then with a smile on her face and Billy found himself wondering what it would be his life would be like if she was in it in different circumstances.

Hazel came wandering over with two cups in her hand, handing Billy one and giving the other one to the boy he was sitting with, "are you telling Billy all about the superiority of New York water?"

Billy smiled, "yeah, I'm mean, now that I have all this information, I'm definitely going to win the debate every time this comes at up work."

"New York Pizza is the best miss, there's no question." Billy could see how comfortable her patients felt with her, it was like magic.

"Well, Mr Doran, maybe Hannah would like to hear your theory." The boy followed her eye line then popped up with a smile, gave Billy a quick goodbye and raced off.

"Are you allowed to do that?" Billy could see clear as day that the boy had a crush on the girl Hazel had just pointed to.

Hazel nodded, "Of course, they've talked every day since she checked in. I'm just helping him out, her favourite food is Pizza."

Billy chuckled, "is there anything you can't do? You're the best nurse on the ward, killer in rehab, an amazing cook, a matchmaker, hell, you're even a good shoot. What's your secret?"

Hazel smiled and reached out her hand as the music grew overhead, "I don't know, maybe I'll tell you after a dance."

Billy took her hand with a smile as everyone moved to the middle of the room and placed the other hand on her waist. They kept a respectful distance but that didn't stop Billy from trying to take in every detail of her face, the realisation that she was a foot shorter than him hitting him like a ton of bricks, "you're kinda short, you know that?"

She giggled, "I work with kids so it doesn't matter. You got something against short people?"

Billy's chest filled with lightness, "no, I'm just making an observation."

"Ahh, an observation. You make a lot of those." Billy wasn't going to lie, he enjoyed flirting with the nurses and doctors on the ward but Hazel was something different.

"Are you telling me I have a reputation?" He couldn't if she was boosting his ego or giving him shit but he liked it either way.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure if you weren't a patient you'd a very busy man." Something about the nurses talking about him behind his back emboldened him even more.

"Hey, I'm a romantic, who says I wouldn't find a winner and settle down?" Hazel knew that was bullshit, Frank saw to that every time he had the chance.

"I'll believe that when I see it Russo." There was a pause and he got caught in her gaze, he couldn't remember the last time a woman looked at him the way Hazel was. His eyes drifted to her lips but before he collapsed under the overwhelming urge to kiss her, Thomas' parents called everyone over.

She blinked like she was yanked out of a trace and smiled at him, "are you ready to day goodbye?"

Billy smiled back, "it's not really goodbye, he's going to be working for me."

Hazel let out a single laugh, "yeah, you're right. Come on, we better go get us some cake."

Billy's fingers itched to pull her back in but he stopped himself, "good idea."

****

"You know he's not technically your patient?" With the party over and everyone back in their rooms, it fell the Hazel and Lizzy to start the clean up.

"Yes he is, I was instrumental in his recovery. I don't know what you're getting at Liz but you need to drop it." Liz could see Hazel's feelings from a mile off.

"But he wasn't, other than helping in rehab, you gave him no medical care and need I remind you, his friends helped him in that area too." Lizabeth knew that it wasn't unusual for patients to devolvement feelings for their careers but she could see this went deeper than that.

"And you know that no matter what, there's no way to tell what feelings are real and what's been caused by him being hurt. He was there for me at one of the worst times in my life for half an hour and then I didn't see him for two years. Nothing good can come from pursuing that." Hazel might have had feelings for Billy, but there was no way she was going to act on them.

"So give it a few months and then try again. You know the hospital won't care. I know you might be blinder than a bat when it comes to this stuff but this isn't what you think it is." Liz knew her friend, she knew Hazel would never take advantage of a patient.

"I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't treat Billy like a child by thinking that his feelings are only transference. He might have a head injury but he's not stupid." Liz knew that was a low blow but she knew that's where Hazel was going to go.

Hazel sighed and put the broom down before turning to her friend, "please don't. Just let this go. In a few months he will forget about me, he needs to leave all this behind him."

Liz huffed, "you don't know him very well at all."

Part 7

[wind-becomes-lightning]

"Just because you can doesnt mean you should" obiyama

if you want👉👈

Hii!!! With your help I got an idea instantly for this, thank you! I struggled so long with coming up with something and then boom, there it was. So here you go!

Uchiha Obito / Yamato (relationship is established)

A kind of Modern AU (tho there is very little influence)

Rated G

2665 words.

Ao3 Link [x]

To win a bet with Kakashi and Gai, Obito learns a new instrument. Yamato is not excited about this.

There was thick air in the Uchiha household. When Obito climbed into bed and tried to reach over to his husband, Yamato scooched further away from him, back still turned. Obito made a whiny sound of pleading, but Yamato did not show mercy. He was hellbent on making Obito understand that he was mad and that small gestures wouldn’t suddenly make it better again.

“It’s almost over,” Obito whispered into the dark. “The deadline is the day after tomorrow.” The vain hope to get his husband to show him the affection he had been missing so much in the last week or so. 

At first Yamato didn’t want to say anything about it at all, content with just letting Obito boil in his own uncertainty for the hell he had unleashed on him during the past month, but then he couldn’t stop himself from going: “My plants are dying, Obito.” Plants were a sensitive subject for him.

Obito grumbled a little, something about how Yamato would be able to recover the plants without having to struggle too much, because he was so good at gardening, but then changed his strategy: “I am pretty sure it is not proven that music is influencing plant growth. I’ve seen a study about that.” He hadn’t but he was shooting in the dark that Yamato hadn’t either.

“My plants are dying since you torture them with what you call “playing music” each day. I don’t need to study to see how it goes.” Yamato pulled his blanket over his shoulder. “Besides, I miss my peace and quiet too, you know?”

Just thinking about Obito’s practice session this afternoon felt like his headache was back and made his ears ring. This apartment had felt like a torture chamber in the last month and while yes, Yamato was soon to be released from this suffering, he could not just let Obito off the hook now. 

“But I’ve improved so much already,” Obito knocked his head into Yamato’s shoulders. Yamato still didn’t turn around. He would keep freezing Obito out until he learned from his grave mistakes.

Yamato scoffed: “Sure, but not enough.”

Obito now went on the offence: “Isn’t it great that I practised hard to learn this new thing? Shouldn’t that make you happy? It's great to know that I can if I try.”

“Just because you can doesn't mean you should.” And with that the conversation was over for Yamato. He pulled the blanket even higher over his ears, scooched to the real edges of the bed so that Obito’s head fell to the pillow and then controlled his breathing to pretend he was falling asleep.

A few minutes later Obito quietly said Yamato’s name, but turned around himself when there was a lack of reaction. 

Of course Yamato felt bad at his icy behaviour to the person that he, by all accounts, loved more than anyone he had ever loved before, but Obito had brought the chaos into the household just five weeks ago and now neither Yamato nor his plants had only one second of quiet during the afternoons. It was driving him crazy.

He should have known that nonsense would come out of the fact that Obito went out drinking alone with Kakashi and Gai. Those three together, spurred on by a little rivalry they had had since childhood, never stopped thinking of stupid things to do with each other, especially when nobody was around to reign them in. But Yamato had stupidly thought that it would be fine, that they would go drinking and maybe bet on who could get drunk first. He had been too busy to join them and take care of them.

When Yamato woke up the next morning and rolled over to his still sort of hungover husband, Obito slurred that he was going to go out and buy a trombone. Yamato had naively assumed Obito was still sleeping and dreaming and maybe speaking nonsense, after all Obito had never played the trombone or had any interest in it at all or any other musical instrument, but no, Obito had been serious, very serious. After eating breakfast and taking a pain killer he was out the door to get his instrument.

At first Yamato put it down as Obito’s sudden quarter life crisis at 30, his realisation that he had never played an instrument before and really wanted to learn one before he was too old, something that Yamato felt like he needed to encourage, but then Obito had returned with his new shiny trombone and a beginners guide to playing it and explained what Yamato had missed the night before.

Apparently Gai, Kakashi and Obito had been very drunk and very impressed with the life band that was playing in the bar. According to Obito, Gai had mentioned first that he would have been an amazing musician if he had ever tried to learn, but he just never had. Obito then had agreed, yes, he too would have been an incredible musician if he had tried harder or even at all. Kakashi too mentioned how he always wanted to play the piano. All three were bragging about how great they would be as musicians if they had just tried a little.

So a bet was born, because of course it was. All three would learn an instrument in the span of a month and then they would compare who learned the fastest and best. Never had Yamato wished he’d be married to Kakashi instead, who relentlessly teased him when they were together, but Kkashi had picked the piano, which, depending on model, could be practised with headphones. Gai had decided to go for the violin, which could also be very disruptive and headache inducing, but still Yamato thought that Obito still picked the worst of all of them: the trombone.

Day after day Obito stood in the living room, open book in front of him, hands on the golden shiny object in his mouth  letting out wrong sound after wrong sound. Yamato, who mostly worked from home, had tried to drown out the constant noise with headphones and such, but somehow the trombone noise was everywhere. He could swear that he could sometimes hear the trombone in his sleep. 

Then his most favourite plant suddenly started losing leaves which had never happened before. Yamato was good at planting and loved his little balcony garden, but ever since Obito started torturing the house with trombone sounds his plants suddenly weren’t doing so well. While he knew it could also be the stiff breeze and the cold winter weather, Yamato decided it was the trombone’s fault. This was easier to explain.

Even their cat, a half grey half black cat named Zetsu was fleeing from the living room. The little boy who usually was constantly on Obito’s heel was now spending most of his time in the bedroom and bolted as soon as the golden shiny head of the trombone was visible anywhere. Not that Yamato could blame him, he wanted to bolt too if he could.

Yamato’s pure frustration at Obito’s obvious fun while practising only added to the constant noise and chaos. He couldn’t stop Obito from doing his little thing when he was always smiling and grinning when something was going his way, he thought in the first two weeks or so. But Obito wasn’t improving quick enough and the noise kept being terrible noise that gave Yamato a feeling like he was losing his mind.

“It’s good, you know,” Obito said one evening when Yamato complained about the entire situation, “through learning the trombone my lung volume will increase and as such I can hold my breath longer when I have things in my mouth.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”

Yamato knew what he meant, but he wasn’t sure if the improvement was worth the current hell he was living in.

“How will you even judge who learned their instrument the best?” Yamato asked one day when Obito had just finished an especially painful rendition of “Oh when the saints” and tried to catch his breath. “Are you going to ask a professional?”

Obito grinned as if he had waited for this question: “Some friends will be judges. Genma, Kurenai, Asuma,.... You.” Then he added: “Which is unfair to the others because you will obviously vote for me.” 

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yamato said deadpan. Obito pouted.

Slowly Yamato’s support had turned into a little more hostility and he just wanted this to end. He thought the only way to show Obito that this time he had gone a little too far was to withdraw affection from him. This pained him almost as much as it pained Obito, but it seemed to work at least a little. Obito was now exceptionally apologetic each time he had to practise, also, he had bought a muffler, which at least reduced the sound a little.

Only two more days, Yamato thought, and this entire nightmare would finally be over. In his mind he fantasised about a fire he could put the trombone on, the golden instrument melting right under it and never coming back. Blissful quiet would be spreading through the apartment and Obito would get his affection back. Happy end.

They decided to hold the competition in an old garage in Gai’s dad’s house. Might Dai was a way too enthusiastic man for his age and he had immediately volunteered to host all of them to watch their “triumph of youth” which entailed their mastery of an instrument. Yamato very much doubted any of them were very good at any of the instruments they had chosen. Well, Kakashi maybe, since he had in fact played piano when he was younger.

“Trombone huh,” Genma said and pushed Yamato in the sides slightly,” That must have a fun last month.” Yamato shot him a look that could kill. Genma laughed and gave Yamato a sympathy clap on the shoulder: “At least it’s over.”

Yes, at least it was.

They were all given a little sheet of paper with an instrument on it and several scales from one to ten. Presentation. Accuracy. Technique. Sound. “I don’t think any of us is qualified enough to judge on technique,” Kurenai said wisely but Gai waved it off with a typically excited: “You are all amazing enough to understand it even if you aren’t as qualified. I know you can do it.”

Yamato took his seat at the corner of the table and tried not to look too annoyed with the whole ordeal. Obito had been out all morning to practise again, where he had gone Yamato did not know, it was early when he left. Part of Yamato was happy that Obito had decided not to play trombone in their house at 6 am but the other part was upset that he hadn’t even said where he had gone.

First player was Gai. He had bought a wonderfully beautiful wood violin that looked safe and correctly draped over his left shoulder. He was very bouncy, as he so often was, talking about how his opponents shouldn’t be sad if he was the one winning. Unfortunately it was clear relatively quickly that Gai was not going to win. He ripped the strings over the violin as if he was trying to see through a tree. The song he was playing was barely recognisable. When Yamato looked to Asuma that was sitting next to him, Asuma had his head in his hands murmuring: “And that’s only the first one.” 

Gai bowed too deep when he was done, the audience clapped a friendly, but unenthusiastic clap while Dai howled and whistled for his son. The support was cute in a way. Yamato smiled from one to the other. “I think you just have to be a little softer,” Kurenai said to Gai when he came over. “Draw the bow a little lighter, at least for slow songs.” He gave her a thumbs up.

Next was Obito and watching him set up his little stand with sheet music and trombone actually got Yamato a little nervous. Despite it all he wanted Obito to make a good impression and yes, part of him even wanted Obito to win. He made a fist under the table to steady his nerves. Obito could only be better than Gai, right? He had practised so much.

The first sounds came out of the trombone and Yamato could see out of the corner of his eye that Asuma buried his head in his hands again. It sounded vaguely like a song Yamato had heard before, as if it had been run through a noise filter to distort it. Obito had trouble breathing, his head red and fingers sweaty, so he made one mistake after another. Yamato could have sworn he had heard Obito play this exact song perfectly not 24 h ago, but now he messed it up almost as much as Gai had. 

More friendly clap, though Yamato clapped a little harder than he had before. When his husband walked over to him Yamato reached for his hand. “You did well,” he said and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. It was their first real touch in a week. Obito blushed a little at the praise and then smiled, though he still looked defeated.

The miserable performances of his opponents didn’t bode well for Kakashi, who stepped up now to set up his electric piano. In real Kakashi fashion though, he did not seem to even take notice of anyone around him, too bored to even take this competition seriously. They all knew it was just an act however, that Kakashi cared, maybe more than all of them. He sat down and cleared his throat to get them to be quiet, then he played.

“Ah, better,” Asuma said with relief in his voice and Yamato heard it too. While nowhere near perfect in his execution, Kakashi definitely knew his instrument better than the other too. His fingers were not as light and easy as better pianists’ were, but he absolutely knew his basics. He had chosen a very easy song to play and strung along over the keys with minimal mistakes. When the song ended it was clear that he was the winner. The applause after was much more genuine than the ones before.

Nobody even needed to hand in their sheets. Gai jumped forward immediately, shaking Kakashi’s hand so much that he almost fell over. “As expected from my rival. Perfection.” 

“It was not perfect at all, I didn’t -” Kakashi tried to clarify but Gai cut him off again: “Perfection!”

Obito too admitted defeat, though he did it while frowning and grumbling: “You did well, man.” Which Kakashi accepted with a grin.

“To be fair, it was a really hard bet to win against someone who had a head start,” Yamato comforted Obito later, their hands entwined into each other again. It was nice to have the closeness back, now that they had both made it through the hell that was this month. “You did as well as you could.”

This seemed to soothe Obito’s wounded soul a little. He leaned over and let Yamato give him a kiss to the cheek. “I missed this,” Obito whined a little.

“I told you you could have it back if you would end this,” Yamato said a little smugly. “And now it is obviously over.”

“How do you know?” Obito let go of Yamato’s hand and shrugged, “I had fun playing an instrument…”

“Oh god.”

“I was thinking of maybe learning the drums.” Obito grinned.

Yamato could feel his throbbing headaches return just by imagining this. He looked up into Obito’s smiling face. “You are joking right? Please tell me you are joking.”

In what felt like cruel payback for the weeks of icy treatment, Obito just shrugged again, murmured “who knows” and pressed a soft kiss to Yamato’s forehead. 

[kasagiggles]

Could we a crk tk fic lee dark choco and ler dark cacao maybe dark choco feels regret after coming back to the kingdom for hurting his father and cacao cheers him up I headcanon that when he was a kid there was this game that they used to play together where cacao would put dark choco on his lap stick his fingers under his sons arms and just hold him captive while he tickled his son on his lap I headcanon that dark chocos spots are his stomach neck sides and ribs

HIII THANK U FOR THE REQUEST!!

→﹒☓ lee dark choco cookie

→﹒☓ ler dark cacao cookie

warnings : tickles !!

nsfw blogs please dni (＞。☆)﹔

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“i see..” dark cacao cookie muttered, “you were under the influence of that wretched sword.” he choked out the words, bewildered that this information was unknown to him for so long. his eyebrows furrowed, “i do love you, my son. but i fear it will take some time to fully mend our relationship.” he placed a cold, firm hand on dark choco cookie’s shoulder. the young man felt a lump in his throat that rendered him unable to speak. “go. get some rest.” his father said sternly, “i will see you tomorrow morning.”

dark choco cookie had a long night, for multiple reasons he was unable to relax. by now it was early morning, the sun peaked over the snowy mountains in his old bedroom window. his head throbbed as he sat up, taking in the nostalgic room around him. he missed being a child dearly.

his reminiscing was interrupted by the creak of his door, in the hall stood dark cacao cookie. his dark eyes met his son’s, dark choco cookie felt a chill up his spine.

“how did you sleep?” he asked gently, approaching the cookie in his bed. normally dark cacao cookie had this stern and determined facade, but his energy was simply calm today.

“i slept fine, thank you.” he replied, he couldn’t deny it, he was extremely anxious. he averted his gaze, gripping his blankets tightly. he felt the mattress sink beside him as his fathers presence made itself known.

“i know this is going to be difficult.” he started, “but this is a new beginning for you. it’s time to put down the past and focus on growing as a cookie.” dark choco cookie cherished his words, they felt like a warm embrace, a shield from the negativity that hindered his joy for so long.

“thank you, father.” he mumbled. they sat there in a peaceful silence, just like the old days. the sunlight was pouring into his room, highlighting his dark brown dough and covering him in a sheet of warmth.

after a long period of silence, dark cacao cookie finally spoke, “do you remember what i used to do when you were sad?” he said, a pang of sadness in his voice. dark choco cookie thought carefully, hoping to be able to answer the question. and it struck him.

“i do.” he said bluntly, but with a short chuckle afterwards. “why don’t we go back to those times for a moment?” dark choco cookie felt his body stiffen. it’s been years upon years since he has received any kind of love or affection, will this really be okay?

“sure.” he croaked, feeling his body tense up further. dark cacao cookie let out a joyful sigh, and proceeded to skitter his fingers along his son’s sides without warning.

dark choco cookie immediately retreated, letting out a confused grunt. dark cacao cookie stopped out of confusion.

“ah, i see. it’s been awhile hasnt it? just try to let loose and laugh freely, okay?” dark choco cookie felt tears forming in his eyes, did he really deserve this love and care after what he had done to his nation? a part of him wants to think that it wasn’t his fault, he had no control, alas, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

over time, the feeling of love had become foreign in to dark choco cookie. but he didn’t want to disappoint his dad any longer. he nodded, preparing himself.

dark cacaos fingers raked featherlight along his sides. he could feel laughter bubbling in his chest, eventually he found he could hold it no longer. awkward, deep laughter became pouring out of his mouth as he couldn’t resist the urge to laugh his heart out.

dark choco squirmed on his bed, his laughter growing as he immersed himself in the playful experience, his fathers nimble fingers were teasing every nerve in his dough. it felt nice. he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to hide himself. he could just be free and happy again.

after several minutes of gentle, reassuring tickles, dark cacao cookie found himself laughing with his son, cherishing the moment just like they did years ago. the journey of healing would be long and arduous, but dark choco cookie new now that his father would be there for him.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

hope u enjoy dear anon! :3

[thebigshotman]

Hello again, everyone! Sorry for the week long disappearance. Granted, it wasn’t as long as it could’ve been, judging from my other long disappearances this year 😅 but it was still unintended and I apologize. Long story short, a four day work stretch and more nonsense going on between my Mom and Grandma (things are getting better though!) sapped all of my will to write, and so I’ve spend most of the past week playing video games, unwinding…and picking up new fixations. Which didn’t help either 😂

Being on here didn’t give me burnout. Life gave me burnout. However, I still cannot apologize enough.

I should be able to reply to all of my threads tomorrow, though, since tomorrow is finally that big two hour road trip to the local Dave and Busters for the day that I thought would happen a month ago. I’ll also do my best to get to most of the asks that were sent then as well, and thank you to all of those who sent them! So look forward to me coming back somewhat tomorrow.

As a final note before I leave you all for the night, that big ghastly dashboard update wasn’t affecting me, as I’m mobile…however I discovered yesterday that when I try to tap on where someone reblogged a meme or piece of art, it takes me to their main page and not the post I’m looking for. Which is not ideal when I always try to reblog from the source. So if you find me DMing you to send me the original link to a sentence starter/ask meme you may have reblogged, now you know why! I hope you all don’t mind.

Anyway, I’ve gotta get back to work, but I’ll do my best to catch up to everything tomorrow. See you guys then!

[inamanicpixiedream]

It has been a while since I've written anything here in a while and So Much has Happened, and I kept thinking about making a post here, but then things kept Happening.

I am currently on school holidays finally, after the longest term in the world, and my first as a Head of Department. I feel exhausted, but it's a good role and better than when I was in pastoral care. My classes are lovely. I continue to wonder how much longer I can work in schools for though, and I applied for a Dream Job (not with schools) a few weeks ago, but didn't even get an interview. I received a nice, thoughtful rejection though, and it let me know there's other things out there.

I wrote, produced and performed in a show at the Fringe two months ago, and it went so ridiculously well I am still processing it. So many people I knew came, including from interstate, or friends I hadn't seen in years. (No one from my family except my mother came, lol.) I had strangers coming up to me weeping and asking to hug me. I've been asked to perform it at schools. It got nominated for an award, so I got to go to the final ceremony with all the best performing artists from around the world, which was wild. I wish I could just do this for a living, and I want to try, but something wanting to be a writer feels like a kid saying they want to be a mermaid.

The final weekend of the festival, the morning after the awards, I tested positive for COVID for the first time. I'd been so scared of getting it and how it was going to affect me due to all my health conditions, and while it hit me hard, it was manageable, and I shudder to think what it would have been like before the vaccinations.

My health still worries me. I get one thing under control and then another thing flares up. I know this will likely be my life, and that can feel a bit despairing, though all of it is fairly manageable the vast majority of the time. Getting another blood test tomorrow.

We're coming up to a year since I left my husband, which is absolutely wild to think about. I don't know where that time has gone, and it's been one of the best years of my life, which is a feeling that has a lot of Complicated Feelings to it, including guilt. It also means I am coming up to the time where I can apply for a divorce, and I can only hope that this will go as smoothly as I can, but I am not holding my breath. But no matter how difficult it is, it will soon be over, and I can close that chapter.

I started seeing a new therapist. There is nothing wrong with my old one, he has been wonderful, but I've seen him for a long time and felt like I was starting to need a fresh perspective. He is also an elderly man, and my new one is a younger woman, which has had a big impact. She has a very different approach to previous mental health support, but it has been perfect for me; she talks to me a lot about self-compassion, and holding space for those Complicated Feelings. She's helped me worked through a lot of Stuff from the separation, and it's quite remarkable the places she's been able to take me. She's fucking expensive though.

And finally: tomorrow I fly to Queensland to see my partner, the person who helped bring me back to life (to quote Ms Swift) and we're then going to put all his things in a removalist truck, jump in his car, and drive right back here. Can I highly recommend falling in love in your thirties? We are both still getting used to being with someone who is kind to us, as we have our own Past and Triggers but he is a Safe Place, and he SEES me, and it's the most extraordinary thing.

Also, how is it already April?

[dailyanarchistposts]

I.3.2 What is workers’ self-management?

Quite simply, workers’ self-management (sometimes called “workers’ control”) means that all workers affected by a decision have an equal voice in making it, on the principle of “one worker, one vote.” Thus “revolution has launched us on the path of industrial democracy.” [Selected Writings of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, p. 63] That is, workers “ought to be the real managers of industries.” [Peter Kropotkin, Fields, Factories and Workshops Tomorrow, p. 157] This is essential to ensure “a society of equals, who will not be compelled to sell their hands and their brains to those who choose to employ them .. . but who will be able to apply their knowledge and capacities to production, in an organism so constructed as to combine all the efforts for procuring the greatest possible well-being for all, while full, free scope will be left for every individual initiative.” [Kropotkin, Kropotkin: Selections from his Writings, pp. 113–4] As Chomsky put it:

“Compassion, solidarity, friendship are also human needs. They are driving needs, no less than the desire to increase one’s share of commodities or to improve working conditions. Beyond this, I do not doubt that it is a fundamental human need to take an active part in the democratic control of social institutions. If this is so, then the demand for industrial democracy should become a central goal of any revitalised left with a working-class base.” [Radical Priorities, p. 191]

As noted earlier, however, we need to be careful when using the term “workers’ control,” as others use it and give it an entirely different meaning from the one intended by anarchists. Like the terms “anarchist” and “libertarian,” it has been co-opted by others to describe less than libertarian schemes.

The first to do so were the Leninists, starting with Lenin, who have used the term “workers’ control” to describe a situation were workers have a limited supervision over either the capitalists or the appointed managers of the so-called workers’ state. These do not equate to what anarchists aim for and, moreover, such limited experiments have not lasted long (see section H.3.14). More recently, “workers’ control” have been used by capitalists to describe schemes in which workers’ have more say in how their workplaces are run while maintaining wage slavery (i.e. capitalist ownership, power and ultimate control). So, in the hands of capitalists, “workers’ control” is now referred to by such terms as “participation”, “co-determination”, “consensus”, “empowerment”, “Japanese-style management,” etc. “For those whose function it is solve the new problems of boredom and alienation in the workplace in advanced industrial capitalism, workers’ control is seen as a hopeful solution”, Sam Dolgoff noted, “a solution in which workers are given a modicum of influence, a strictly limited area of decision-making power, a voice at best secondary in the control of conditions of the workplace. Workers’ control, in a limited form sanctioned by the capitalists, is held to be the answer to the growing non-economic demands of the workers.” [The Anarchist Collectives, p. 81]

The new managerial fad of “quality circles” — meetings where workers are encouraged to contribute their ideas on how to improve the company’s product and increase the efficiency with which it is made — is an example of “workers’ control” as conceived by capitalists. However, when it comes to questions such as what products to make, where to make them, and (especially) how revenues from sales should be divided, capitalists and managers do not ask for or listen to workers’ “input.” So much for “democratisation,” “empowerment,” and “participation”! In reality, capitalistic “workers control” is merely an another insidious attempt to make workers more willing and “co-operative” partners in their own exploitation. Needless to say, such schemes are phoney as they never place real power in the hands of workers. In the end, the owners and their managers have the final say (and so hierarchy remains) and, of course, profits are still extracted from the workforce.

Hence anarchists prefer the term workers’ self-management, a concept which refers to the exercise of workers’ power through collectivisation and federation. It means “a transition from private to collective ownership” which, in turn, “call[s] for new relationships among the members of the working community.” [Abel Paz, The Spanish Civil War, p. 55] Self-management in this sense “is not a new form of mediation between the workers and their capitalist bosses, but instead refers to the very process by which the workers themselves overthrow their managers and take on their own management and the management of production in their own workplace. Self-management means the organisation of all workers … into a workers’ council or factory committee (or agricultural syndicate), which makes all the decisions formerly made by the owners and managers.” [Dolgoff, Op. Cit., p. 81] Self-management means the end of hierarchy and authoritarian social relationships in workplace and their replacement by free agreement, collective decision-making, direct democracy, social equality and libertarian social relationships.

As anarchists use the term, workers’ self-management means collective worker ownership, control and direction of all aspects of production, distribution and investment. This is achieved through participatory-democratic workers’ assemblies, councils and federations, in both agriculture and industry. These bodies would perform all the functions formerly reserved for capitalist owners, managers, executives and financiers where these activities actually relate to productive activity rather than the needs to maximise minority profits and power (in which case they would disappear along with hierarchical management). These workplace assemblies will be complemented by people’s financial institutions or federations of syndicates which perform all functions formerly reserved for capitalist owners, executives, and financiers in terms of allocating investment funds or resources.

Workers’ self-management is based around general meetings of the whole workforce, held regularly in every industrial or agricultural syndicate. These are the source of and final authority over decisions affecting policy within the workplace as well as relations with other syndicates. These meeting elect workplace councils whose job is to implement the decisions of these assemblies and to make the day to day administration decisions that will crop up. These councils are directly accountable to the workforce and its members subject to re-election and instant recall. It is also likely that membership of these councils will be rotated between all members of the syndicate to ensure that no one monopolises an administrative position. In addition, smaller councils and assemblies would be organised for divisions, units and work teams as circumstances dictate.

In this way, workers would manage their own collective affairs together, as free and equal individuals. They would associate together to co-operate without subjecting themselves to an authority over themselves. Their collective decisions would remain under their control and power. This means that self-management creates “an organisation so constituted that by affording everyone the fullest enjoyment of his [or her] liberty, it does not permit anyone to rise above the others nor dominate them in any way but through the natural influence of the intellectual and moral qualities which he [or she] possesses, without this influence ever being imposed as a right and without leaning upon any political institution whatever.” [The Political Philosophy of Bakunin, p. 271] Only by convincing your fellow associates of the soundness of your ideas can those ideas become the agreed plan of the syndicate. No one is in a position to impose their ideas simply because of the post they hold or the work they do.

Most anarchists think that it is likely that purely administrative tasks and decisions would be delegated to elected individuals in this way, freeing workers and assemblies to concentrate on important activities and decisions rather than being bogged down in trivial details. As Bakunin put it:

“Is not administrative work just as necessary to production as is manual labour — if not more so? Of course, production would be badly crippled, if not altogether suspended, without efficient and intelligent management. But from the standpoint of elementary justice and even efficiency, the management of production need not be exclusively monopolised by one or several individuals. And managers are not at all entitled to more pay. The co-operative workers associations have demonstrated that the workers themselves, choosing administrators from their own ranks, receiving the same pay, can efficiency control and operate industry. The monopoly of administration, far from promoting the efficiency of production, on the contrary only enhances the power and privileges of the owners and their managers.” [Bakunin on Anarchism, p. 424]

What is important is that what is considered as important or trivial, policy or administration rests with the people affected by the decisions and subject to their continual approval. Anarchists do not make a fetish of direct democracy and recognise that there is more important things in life than meetings and voting! While workers’ assemblies play the key role in self-management, it is not the focal point of all decisions. Rather it is the place where all the important policy decisions are made, administrative decisions are ratified or rejected and what counts as a major decision determined. Needless to say, what is considered as important issues will be decided upon by the workers themselves in their assemblies.

Unsurprisingly, anarchists argue that, as well as being more free, workers self-management is more efficient and productive than the hierarchical capitalist firm (efficiency here means accomplishing goals without wasting valued assets). Capitalist firms fail to tap humanity’s vast reservoir of practical knowledge, indeed they block it as any application of that knowledge is used to enrich the owners rather than those who generate and use it. Thus the hierarchical firm disenfranchises employees and reduces them to the level of order-takers with an obvious loss of information, knowledge and insight (as discussed in section I.1.1). With self-management, that vast source of knowledge and creativity can be expressed. Thus, self-management and worker ownership “should also reap other rewards through the greater motivation and productivity of the workers.” [David Ellerman, The Democratic Worker-Owned Firm, p. 139]

This explains why some firms try to simulate workers’ control (by profit-sharing or “participation” schemes). For, as market socialist David Schweickart notes, “the empirical evidence is overwhelming” and supports those who argue for workers’ participation. The “evidence is strong that both worker participation in management and profit sharing tend to enhance productivity and that worker-run enterprises often are more productive than their capitalist counterparts.” [Against Capitalism, p. 100] In fact, 94% of 226 studies into this issue showed a positive impact, with 60% being statistically significant, and so the empirical evidence is “generally supportive of a positive link between profit sharing and productivity.” This applies to co-operatives as well. [Martin L. Weitzman and Douglas L. Kruse, “Profit Sharing and Productivity”, pp. 95–140, Paying for Productivity, Alan S. Blinder (ed.), p. 137, p. 139 and pp. 131–2] Another study concludes that the “available evidence is strongly suggestive that for employee ownership … to have a strong impact on performance, it needs to be accompanied by provisions for worker participation in decision making.” In addition, “narrow differences in wages and status”, as anarchists have long argued, “increase productivity”. [David I. Levine and Laura D’Andrea Tyson, “Participation, Productivity, and the Firm’s Environment”, pp. 183–237, Op. Cit., p. 210 and p. 211]

This should be unsurprising, for as Geoffrey M. Hodgson notes, the neo-classical model of co-operatives “wrongly assume[s] that social relations and technology are separable … Yet we have much evidence . .. to support the contention that participation and co-operation can increase technological efficiency. Production involves people — their ideas and aspirations — and not simply machines operating under the laws of physics. It seems that, in their search for pretty diagrams and tractable mathematical models, mainstream economists often forget this.” [Economics and Utopia, p. 223]

Therefore anarchists have strong evidence to support Herbert Read’s comment that libertarian socialism would “provide a standard of living far higher than that realised under any previous form of social organisation.” [Anarchy and Order, p. 49] It confirms Cole’s comment that the “key to real efficiency is self-government; and any system that is not based upon self-government is not only servile, but also inefficient. Just as the labour of the wage-slave is better than the labour of the chattel-slave, so … will the labour of the free man [and woman] be better than either.” [Self-Government in Industry, p. 157] Yet it is important to remember, as important as this evidence is, real social change comes not from “efficiency” concerns but from ideals and principles. While anarchists are confident that workers’ self-management will be more efficient and productive than capitalism, this is a welcome side-effect of the deeper goal of increasing freedom. The evidence confirms that freedom is the best solution for social problems but if, for example, slavery or wage-labour proved to be more productive than free, associated, labour it does not make them more desirable!

A self-managed workplace, like a self-managed society in general, does not mean that specialised knowledge (where it is meaningful) will be neglected or not taken into account. Quite the opposite. Specialists (i.e. workers who are interested in a given area of work and gain an extensive understanding of it) are part of the assembly of the workplace, just like other workers. They can and have to be listened to, like anyone else, and their expert advice included in the decision making process. Anarchists do not reject the idea of expertise nor the rational authority associated with it. As we indicated in section B.1, anarchists recognise the difference between being an authority (i.e. having knowledge of a given subject) and being in authority (i.e. having power over someone else). as discussed in section H.4, we reject the latter and respect the former.

Such specialisation does not imply the end of self-management, but rather the opposite. “The greatest intelligence,” Bakunin argued, “would not be equal to a comprehension of the whole. Thence results, for science as well as industry, the necessity of the division and association of labour.” [God and the State, p. 33] Thus specialised knowledge is part of the associated workers and not placed above them in positions of power. The other workers in a syndicate can compliment the knowledge of the specialists with the knowledge of the work process they have gained by working and so enrich the decision. Knowledge is distributed throughout society and only a society of free individuals associated as equals and managing their own activity can ensure that it is applied effectively (part of the inefficiency of capitalism results from the barriers to knowledge and information flow created by its hierarchical workplace).

A workplace assembly is perfectly able to listen to an engineer, for example, who suggests various ways of reaching various goals (i.e. if you want X, you would have to do A or B. If you do A, then C, D and E is required. If B is decided upon, then F, G, H and I are entailed). But it is the assembly, not the engineer, that decides what goals and methods to be implemented. As Cornelius Castoriadis put it: “We are not saying: people will have to decide what to do, and then technicians will tell them how to do it. We say: after listening to technicians, people will decide what to do and how to do it. For the how is not neutral — and the what is not disembodied. What and how are neither identical, nor external to each other. A ‘neutral’ technique is, of course, an illusion. A conveyor belt is linked to a type of product and a type of producer — and vice versa.” [Social and Political Writings, vol. 3, p. 265]

However, we must stress that while an anarchist society would “inherit” a diverse level of expertise and specialisation from class society, it would not take this as unchangeable. Anarchists argue for “all-round” (or integral) education as a means of ensuring that everyone has a basic knowledge or understanding of science, engineering and other specialised tasks. As Bakunin argued, “in the interests of both labour and science … there should no longer be either workers or scholars but only human beings.” Education must “prepare every child of each sex for the life of thought as well as for the life of labour.” [The Basic Bakunin, p. 116 and p. 119] This does not imply the end of all specialisation (individuals will, of course, express their individuality and know more about certain subjects than others) but it does imply the end of the artificial specialisation developed under capitalism which tries to deskill and disempower the wage worker by concentrating knowledge into hands of management.

And, just to state the obvious, self-management does not imply that the mass of workers decide on the application of specialised tasks. Self-management implies the autonomy of those who do the work as well as collective decision making on collective issues. For example, in a self-managed hospital the cleaning staff would not have a say in the doctors’ treatment of patients just as the doctors would not tell the cleaners how to do their work (of course, it is likely that an anarchist society will not have people whose work is simply to clean and nothing else, we just use this as an example people will understand). All members of a syndicate would have a say in what happens in the workplace as it affects them collectively, but individual workers and groups of workers would manage their own activity within that collective.

Needless to say, self-management abolishes the division of labour inherent in capitalism between order takers and order givers. It integrates (to use Kropotkin’s words) brain work and manual work by ensuring that those who do the work also manage it and that a workplace is managed by those who use it. Such an integration of labour will, undoubtedly, have a massive impact in terms of productivity, innovation and efficiency. As Kropotkin argued, the capitalist firm has a negative impact on those subject to its hierarchical and alienating structures:

“The worker whose task has been specialised by the permanent division of labour has lost the intellectual interest in his [or her] labour, and it is especially so in the great industries; he has lost his inventive powers. Formerly, he [or she] invented very much … But since the great factory has been enthroned, the worker, depressed by the monotony of his [or her] work, invents no more.” [Fields, Factories and Workshops Tomorrow, p. 171]

Must all the skills, experience and intelligence that very one has be swept away or crushed by hierarchy? Or could it not become a new fertile source of progress under a better organisation of production? Self-management would ensure that the independence, initiative and inventiveness of workers (which disappears under wage slavery) comes to the fore and is applied. Combined with the principles of “all-round” (or integral) education (see section J.5.13) who can deny that working people could transform the current economic system to ensure “well-being for all”? And we must stress that by “well-being” we mean well-being in terms of meaningful, productive activity in humane surroundings and using appropriate technology, in terms of goods of utility and beauty to help create strong, healthy bodies and in terms of surroundings which are inspiring to live in and ecologically integrated.

Little wonder Kropotkin argued that self-management and the “erasing [of] the present distinction between the brain workers and manual worker” would see “social benefits” arising from “the concordance of interest and harmony so much wanted in our times of social struggles” and “the fullness of life which would result for each separate individual, if he [or she] were enabled to enjoy the use of both … mental and bodily powers.” This is in addition to the “increase of wealth which would result from having … educated and well-trained producers.” [Op. Cit., p. 180]

Let us not forget that today workers do manage their own working time to a considerable extent. The capitalist may buy a hour of a workers’ time but they have to ensure that the worker follows their orders during that time. Workers resist this imposition and this results in considerable shop-floor conflict. Frederick Taylor, for example, introduced his system of “scientific management” in part to try and stop workers managing their own working activity. As David Noble notes, workers “paced themselves for many reason: to keep time for themselves, to avoid exhaustion, to exercise authority over their work, to avoid killing so-called gravy piece-rate jobs by overproducing and risking a pay cut, to stretch out available work for fear of layoffs, to exercise their creativity, and, last but not least, to express their solidarity and their hostility to management.” These were ”[c]oupled with collective co-operation with their fellows on the floor” and “labour-prescribed norms of behaviour” to achieve “shop floor control over production.” [Forces of Production, p. 33] This is why working to rule” is such an efficient weapon in the class struggle (see section H.4.4) In other words, workers naturally tend towards self-management anyway and it is this natural movement towards liberty during work hours which is combated by bosses (who wins, of course, depends on objective and subjective pressures which swing the balance of power towards labour or capital).

Self-management will built upon this already existing unofficial workers control over production and, of course, our knowledge of the working process which actually doing it creates. The conflict over who controls the shop floor — either those who do the work or those who give the orders — not only shows that self-management is possible but also show how it can come about as it brings to the fore the awkward fact that while the bosses need us, we do not need them!

[selfheals]

May to July

Many treasured occasions with friends and family, including the Meadows Festival, loads of cinema trips.

I saw one of my favourite artists, PVRIS, live in mid-May and had an amazing time!

I got a new tattoo and named him Ramsay McCoffin. He is very tall and doesn't like to spend money, so is like me in those respects.

TATT

My gran was moved into hospital partway through May and passed in late June, a week or so before her 87th birthday. She spoke calmly of her death and was as ready as one could ever be. It was clear she missed her husband, family and friends who she had lost earlier in her life. Her funeral was beautiful and moving. It was tough to see both of my sisters in tears at the choice of music and the closing of the curtain in front of her coffin.

I completed training to become a Facilitator at Andy's Man Club. I remember the early days where it provided the only space I could talk about my relationship tensions at the time. Crying in a room full of unknown men was a bizarre experience, but a worthwhile one. I hope to give back to AMC and encourage others to attend whenever they're struggling with high stress and/or poor mental health.

I've been really enjoying any time spent with B watching Formula 1 races, getting dinner together, and going for walks/drives. We've connected on an unexpected level and it's awesome. I feel we're helping each other through stuff. I still wonder if we'd be good as an item, and I mention it occasionally in a half-joking manner, but I don't think he thinks he's ready for that, which is valid.

Things are going well with K this time. We met in person for the first time in July, the same week she moved back to Scotland, and had a really good time together. We're going on a picnic date to the Botanic Gardens tomorrow, which should be lovely.

I've not spoken to my crush, A, in a while. I'd like to, but I guess I'm scared of rejection. Maybe sometime I'll pluck up the courage to ask her to meet up again for dinner and/or chill drinks - I might ask now instead of inevitably procrastinating.

I've started going to visit kittens for sale in the last week, but I'm not entirely sure why. I know that sounds silly, but I feel there must be a deeper reason I feel the need for a new creature in my life. I'm not sure if I'll end up following through as it is a big decision to make since Wookiee (my resident cat) would also be affected.

My exes continue to be gradually ostracised from the friendship group. In late July, a new gaming chat was created and I was able to play games in a safe environment with a friend for the first time in around a year. We had a good time, but it was hard to hear them as their partner was gaming quite loudly in the background - no shade though!

I'm looking forward to continuing to live true to myself.