#it’s more like. I should be allowed to just die

[skiagraphe0]

I know exactly where it comes from: the idea all adults are evil predators who can only be in fandom spaces because they want to prey on kids. For years, people have been freaking out about adults being in the same Discord as a minor (gasp!) even though the server's topic is Animal Crossing, or been freaked out teenagers are on Reddit where adults are even though the only subreddits they have in common is r/watercolor. "Be afraid!" people scream, eyes wide in fear, "I heard a grown-up might be there and they'll unalive you or grap3 you!"

It used to be - and definitely was when I was growing up - that an adult speaking to a minor was not considered a massive risk. Adults were not seen as suspicious in hobby spaces, because it was understood that adulthood didn't mean giving up everything you'd ever liked. As the moral panic got worse, however, a sinister motive was assigned to pretty much everything. You're an adult, but you read books? Uh, books are sold at stores, and minors go to stores! You're an adult, but you play video games? Uh, minors also play games! You write fic and post it to the internet? Uh, don't you know minors are online? You're so scary!

There's also this idea a lot of Gen Z kids have that adulthood = the death of joy. When I got my master's degree, I was in classes with 18-24 year olds who were absolutely stunned that I still watch anime, play video games, read books, sew, draw, write fanfic, listen to pop music, etc. It was very odd, explaining to them that I just never thought of not doing things I like. I could tell this explanation was both confusing to them and made perfect sense. They had been told you become a husk at 30 and simply work, poop, sleep, and then one day die. They could also piece together that it wasn't logical for me to stop listening to music and drawing because I'd hit an age.

"But you're not weird about it, right?" was a question I got, often said with genuine anxiety. I would furrow my brow, confused, and ask, "I'm not sure what a 'weird' way to listen to music is? Or how to be weird about playing a game? I guess I don't, like, make room for Jesus when I make my Animal Crossing island or anything."

My dad is 84 and reads Star Trek fanfic/keeps up with the new shows.

My neighbor is 54 and loves Disney and is helping sew cosplays for her granddaughter/teaching her granddaughter how to sew.

The manager at my local Joann Fabrics is 60 and she just did her first cosplay.

Animator/artist/illustrator Tyrus Wong was still drawing and working on concept art for an idea to pitch when he died at 105.

The notion that adulthood means being miserable and sobbing in corner somewhere (if male) or tending to children (if female) and nothing else until you die is extremely recent. It's not supported by basically anything other than their own anxiety about anyone older than then being nearby. But the thing they don't seem to grasp is that their fear about someone posting someone or reading something isn't what anyone else is going to base their lives on.

If it scares you that someone has a hobby past the age you think that should be allowed, I'm sorry for you. That genuinely sounds like a lot of anxiety. Your life sounds really hard and really miserable.

But you're not my patient and I'm not a therapist. I can't help you. I can pray you get better, but that's it.

I'm not going anywhere. Neither are most people - if anything, fandom going more mainstream means we're going to see an increasingly higher number of adults getting into it, at the same time as kids into it age into being an adult.

If adults scare you, fandom isn't the hobby for you.

Fandom Problem #7211:

As someone who's almost 30, I legitimately do not understand why people on this site treat you like you're totally geriatric and incapable of having hobbies or interests. It's always "lol this person is THIRTY, they must have no life!!". I find age is weaponized most of all with censorship advocates who go, "imagine being 30 and still shipping characters on TUMBLR 💀".

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[grayskies2525]

Inevitable (male sneezing, contagion) | Part 3/4

Here we continue to follow Evan through the worst cold of his life. There will be one more part after this!

Part one Part two

Another obvious CW for mess!

Word count: 2,200

*** 

Part 3

Bed.

A single monosyllabic word that currently means everything to Evan. The mere thought of having a bed to come home to after his shift is the only thing keeping him going. 

He stands now with his gaze unfocused off in the distance as he tries to even out his breaths. He’s been at the front registers for an hour and he’d estimate he’s sneezed twenty times at least. He’s had the good sense to keep tissues on his person at all times. There’s one tissue that’s been living out its life in Evan’s left hand for a good while now. Evan has deemed this his “wiping” tissue, using it for a quick swipe, or sometimes to clasp it desperately against his nose in efforts not to send a deluge of fluid onto the items he scans. He refuses to blow into this tissue. No, that’s a job for the fresh tissues — the tissues he allows himself to pluck from the box he keeps next to him. These are the tissues he quickly disposes into the  — now close to overflowing — wastebasket.  

Then there’s the tissues he sneezes into. He keeps these in the pocket on the right side of the jacket he’d slipped on earlier when he’d started feeling chilly. He figures it’d be a waste to throw these tissues away if they’re only coated in a light mist. There’s, of course, been many tissues that haven’t survived some of Evans more… forceful sneezes. The tissues with holes or an abundance of thick stickiness were fated for the wastebasket that has now, effectively, become a tissue cemetery. 

God, he just wants to go to bed. And maybe have a bowl of hot soup — tomato soup with Goldfish crackers, and possibly a grilled cheese sandwich to go along with it. But, then, he’d have to make the soup and sandwich and in his current state, he’d rather die of starvation than put in that effort. Maybe Marcus will take pity on him and make it. It doesn’t even need to be homemade. Surely they have a can of Campbell’s somewhere in the cabinet. 

“EDT’shuuuuHHH!”

Evan feels proud the sneeze, while coming on too quickly for him to cover, is only a fine spray. Sure, it does absolutely drench the store’s phone, but in comparison to what was happening to Evan earlier, this is practically nothing. His constant tissue use has kept away the more viscous type of mucus from shooting out of him. He spares a moment to contemplate how he’s reached the point where he considers sneezing all over a phone to be a success just because it wasn’t accompanied by strings of snot.

Kate, one of the associates working the registers today, sighs as she sees him trying to wipe off the phone with a tissue. “I’d tell you to go home, but I know you can’t. But, listen, you’re going to start a literal outbreak at this rate. Like, I’d be surprised if everyone in town doesn’t come down with this thing in a few days time. So, would you consider wearing a mask? There’s a box in the break room.”

Evan stares at her. Yes, wearing a mask would prevent spreading the virus, but that would only work if he could keep the thing on.

“Uh, I don’t really know if that’s feasible, Kate,” he says, wiping his nose with the tissue he has on hand, as if to illustrate his point.

Kate stares at him, her mouth in a thin line. “Well, you should try. It’ll at least give the impression that you’re attempting not to spread your cold to all our customers.”

Evan sighs heavily before turning and heading off to the break room.

* * *

The problem with masks is that their main purpose is to prevent droplets dispersing when people speak, cough, or — of course — breathe. Evan imagines they could be good at preventing sneeze spray from entering the air, providing the sneezes are the light and misty type. Otherwise, after a few sneezes, a person is going to have to dispose of the mask and get a new one— which would be fine if the person only sneezed here and there.

Evan is not sneezing here and there.

“AHD’tshhhUUUHHHH! ADT’SHHHHH! HEhhh HH HEH EH-TSsSHHHH!”

He notices the warmth first, then the wetness. 

It clings to his face, which forces him into having to smell the strong scent of his own saliva and mucus, both of which are teeming with viruses. He needs the mask off now.

But there’s a customer literally speaking to him. A fact he nearly forgot.

“... And I’m just saying if you don’t want customers to think something is on sale, then you shouldn’t have an ‘on sale’ sign so close to the item.”

Evan snorts thickly and holds up a finger in the universal sign for “wait a minute” as he turns around to pull off his mask. It stubbornly clings to his face, as if glued to it, but he manages to pull it off, though he does have to hold back a gag at the sight he’s met with. He pulls a bunch of tissues out of his pocket — the ones previously reserved for sneezing — and wipes up the mess before turning back around.

He plasters on a smile for the customer. “Yes, I agree that sometimes our signs can create confusion if they’re not properly switched out, or if they are too close to another product. So, refresh my memory — you’re saying you thought this 10 quart air fryer was on sale for… for 15 dollars?” he asks, frowning, trying to actually process the words the woman’s been saying.

“Yes. But that lady over there —” she says pointing to Kate who’s working one of the other POS stations. “Told me the sale was actually for mixing bowls. But if the sale’s for mixing bowls, then the sign should have been closer to the mixing bowls and not the airfryers.”

Evan stares. Something about the woman — perhaps her tone of voice, or her pursed lips and self-righteous looking expression — gives Evan the idea that she knows exactly what she’s doing. There’s no way she thought a three hundred dollar airfryer would be on sale for fifteen dollars. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one who moved the sign next to the airfryers. People like this annoy more than someone who outright steals.

“Right. I understand what you’re saying, but — EDT’SHHuuuuHHHH!” 

He managed to aim the sneeze downward at the counter. He watches the droplets settle on a notepad in spots — some large, some small —  all over the top page. He frowns, then looks up.

The woman’s face is contorted into a scowl. “If you’re sick, you should stay home.”

“I — ADt’SHhhhhhhhh! AD’TSHHHHHH!”

Evan can’t even feel ashamed this time of sneezing on someone. She shouldn’t have been so close, and more importantly, so damn annoying. Though, as he stares at her face covered in the glistening evidence of his cold, he does begin to feel a miniscule amount of shame.

“Uhmb, liste’d, I amb so sorry.” He snorts, trying to lessen the congestion he hears in his voice. “Hodestly, I’ve got a killer cold righdt dow ad I —”

“You realize this is unacceptable, right?” the woman says, her tone drenched with bitterness. “You have no business being here getting customers sick. I will be complaining. Give me the name of your manager,” she demands.

He blinks. “Uhb, so the madadger today is actually mbe, so ubm… cobplaidt doted I guess?” he says, giving a heavy snort, exhaustion tugging at every inch of his body.

The lady glares. “I can’t even understand what you’re saying. I’ll be filling out a survey later. I’ve been a regular customer here for years and I hate to say it, but I don’t think I can ever come back.”

Alarm bells flash through his mind as he remembers his training videos. But then the tickle from hell takes sudden residence in his sinuses and he snaps forward. 

“AHHgt’shuuuuuhhhh! AHHHHGG’tSHHUUUHHHhhhh!”

This time there are strings. And they hang down in thick, unbreaking strands. Instinctively, he brings up his bare hand to collect the mess. He stares at the woman, helpless to do anything but stand there with a hand covering his face. The woman’s mouth is curled in disgust, and she gives a quick shake of her head before turning to exit the store. 

Well, that’s the third customer he’s scared away today with his sneezing. Although, the second could hardly count as a “customer” he supposes.

* * *

“Trevor, please," Evan begs as he sits at the break room table, feeling thankful to be alone in the room. "I will take your closidg shifts dext week if you just cobe id today. I hodestly dod’t thidk I cad make it through four bore hours of — of this ihh’shhHHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOOO! SHOO!” He takes a deep breath before immediately resuming the pattern. “ACK’SHOOOO! SHHOOO! SHOOOOO!”

Eight sneezes. 

Eight.

He’s dying. 

Each sneeze scraped against his throat and made his head throb. They also tore through the one tissue he’d brought up just in time. There’s a large hole in the middle and a slimy mess coating his hand. At this point, all he can do is sigh.

“Please, Trevor. I’ve dever beed this sigck befo — Eck’SHooOOOOO!”

More spray. More strings. More sighs.

“Jesus,” Trevor says, from the other end of the phone. “Fine, I get it. You’re sick. But, it’s just that, you know…I had plans… and, well, can’t you just call Bethany or something?”

“Already did. Bethady’s at the ebergedcy vet with her dog. You’re literally by odly hope. Please. I’b sdeezi’g all over custobers ad everythi’g, Trevor. Like, you have do idea. I just wadt to get sombe rest so I cad shake this thi’g ad — I — HEH!”

Evan sets the phone down on the table and pulls several tissues from the box on his lap, quickly burying his face into them.

“ECK’shhUUUUUuuuhhhhh! ECK’Shhhhhhhhhh! Heh hh hhh HHHH MPfff’tshhhuuuhhh! MPT’SHUUUHHHH!”

“Goddamn,” he hears Trevor say from his phone, but Evan’s too focused on trying to keep himself from literally drowning. He blows and blows his nose, the sound gurgling. He feels slimy dampness run all down the side of his hand. Clearly he needed more tissues than he grabbed.

“Fine,” he hears Trevor say with a groan. “But we’re definitely trading shifts next week so I don’t have to close.”

Evan’s throat feels scratched all to hell from the sneezing. He clears his throat to alleviate the scratchiness only to find himself lost in a coughing fit. Like, the sneezing wasn’t enough.

“Evan? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, thagk you, Trevor. Ad I promidse I’ll take your evedi’g shifts dext week.”

* * *

“Dude, wake up. I drove forty minutes on my day off to come save your ass just so you can go home to sleep off your sniffles. So, go home.”

The voice is one Evan knows. In fact, he thinks he heard it not too long ago. But, going back to sleep sounds immensely more appealing than trying to figure out the owner of the mystery voice.

Someone’s shaking his shoulder. 

“Dude,” the voice says again, sounding irritated.

Evan’s the one who should feel irritated. He’s just trying to get some sleep and now someone’s shaking him and also he has to — 

“Hmmph’SHHHhhhhh! HEH’tshooooo!”

Evan, instinctively, sniffles. It turns out there’s a lot more than he’d realized to sniffle back up, so he finally raises his head a little from the table he'd apparently fallen asleep on.. He sees large globs of mucus across his arm.

Then he remembers. 

He slowly sits up and finds Trevor’s gaze on him. 

“Jesus, Evan. Clean yourself up.”

Evan wipes his nose with his arm, leaving another trail along his skin. 

God, he needs a shower. 

Trevor’s eyebrows go up and his eyes widen before he shakes his head as if in disbelief. Evan watches, mind still half-asleep, as Trevor dampens a paper towel at the sink in the tiny kitchen section of the break room.

Trevor jogs over to Evan and holds out the paper towel. “For your arm. Man, you are a wreck.”

“I dod’t feel very good,” Evan says, sniffling and looking at the paper towel, feeling dazed.

“No shit,” Trevor says before his expression softens. “Listen, clean yourself up and get home and rest. And don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll cover for you. Just take one of my shifts when you’re feeling better.” He looks back down at the paper towel in his hand. “And for the love of christ, please wipe off your nose. It's pouring like a faucet. I don't even know how that's possible with how stuffed up you sound.”

Trevor reaches the paper towel out again to Evan. Evan goes to take the towel, but since he seemingly no longer has any control whatsoever of his respiratory reflexes, he sneezes.

All over Trevor’s outstretched arm and into the air. Because of course he does. 

Evan takes the paper towel and for reasons he doesn’t understand, begins awkwardly wiping Trevor’s arm with it.

It’s hard not to when there’s little globs of mucus on Trevor’s skin. After this cold is over, Evan hopes to never have to see another “glob of mucus” again.

Trevor just stares down as if in horror, until he finally snaps. “Okay, that’s enough, Evan. I’ve got it. Get yourself cleaned up and for the sake of everyone, go home.”

“Sorry,” Evan mutters before going to do just that.

Part three

[brucewaynehater101]

Adding on the "all planets must agree to war for the emperor Tim to agree", to make sure the leaders of allied planets aren't ganging up on someone else for their own gain, each planet should have a referendum. The population of each planet must vote in high percentage that the war is for a cause they're willing to die and kill for. I'm sure C4 are doing their best to prevent those types of leaders in positions of power, but also I think Timothy "Mr. Backup-plans-for-days" Drake would have several different types of preventions in place just in case.

Another post talking more about this

I do like this agreement. Giving the ruling government of each planet total say over their planet's population in regards to them being sent to war *would* be horrid. It would be better if the populace voted for whether or not they agree to risk their own lives for that cause.

C4, in this case, would preside over the polls to ensure there are no temperings and allow everyone the choice to vote.

I'm not sure what an appropriate percentage would be... Because that's the percentage of people unwilling to sacrifice themselves or their loved ones or whatever the cost may be.

I'm also not sure if planets who "abstain" or vote against the war would thus be forced into it if the majority chooses to do so. Perhaps, if their populace doesn't want to fight, they may still provide aid through production, supplies, and other means?

[sydneytheforestqueer]

Greetings Tumblr!! One of my pookies said I should post this here so I am! I was going to write a Desert Duo hunger games fic but I didn't feel like writing out the whole thing so have this snippet that I wrote up earlier!!

The canon sounded and Scar stared up at Grian. The peacekeepers son had become much more ruthless throughout the course of the games than Scar had ever seen him before, but thats what a need of survival does to you, right? Grian still stood over the body of Bdubs, sword in hand as he turned twords Scar, who had essentially turned on him a moment before.

Scar was never going to truly kill Grian, he was just hoping to get Grian mad enough to kill him. They had been by each other since the very beginning, growing up together, learning the ways of this awful world. Even when Grian moved districts, Scar always remembered his best friend. Here they were, standing face to face with Grian yelling that he was a traitor.

He stared at the boy in front of him, the one he had been trying to keep going this entire time and scar dropped his sword. He knelt on the ground in front of Grian.

“You can kill me. For everything you did to me to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and claim victory.”

The boy gave Grian a sad smile. He preferred to die by Grians hand with the knowledge that his flower was safe than to have died earlier with so many adversaries against them.

Grian stared at Scar, saying that he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t kill Scar. They both knew that the Gamemakers would only allow one champion, so they decided to fight, bare fits, no weapons. They had made their way back to the makeshift grave that they had made for Pizza, the mutt they managed to wrangle into submission earlier in the games. Likely something that upset the gamemakers, it was a small act of rebellion that had been wonderful while it lasted.

The farmhand and the peacekeepers son stood across from each other in a makeshift circle of cacti next to the grave of their pet. Grian said that whatever happened, they could count this as a double win… but scar knew what would happen. He would make sure that Grian made it out. He cared too much for him to let him lose.

The two counted down before Grian charged at Scar. Sure, Scar was strong but Grian had always been faster. Scar knew he had to fight back or Grian wouldn’t actually kill him, but he couldn’t keep up with him anyways. It hurt, everything hurt. He was in pain from the hits yet they kept coming till he was bloodied and broken on the ground, staring up at Grian as he sobbed out apologies. Grian looked beautiful, even with the blood and grime staining his features from the past week of ruthless conditions.

He was like an angel of death, coming to take the suffering from Scar. Scar gave a weak laugh as he looked up at his pesky bird. He wanted so badly to hug him and comfort him like he always did but Scars body and mind felt numb. Despite the fact he was dying, he was happy. Grian won, he would get to go home. Scar was happy to sacrifice himself for Grian. He cared about him more than anything else. He just wished he had the courage to tell him before this moment.

As Scars thoughts started slipping into eternal darkness he was able to make out a few weak words. He simply needed to tell Grian that he loved him… and then he let the darkness take him. At least the last sight he saw was the beautiful face of his Sun. He was Icarus, he had gotten too close and now he was burnt up, diving into the cool darkness of eternal sleep.

The canon sounded across the arena as Scars heart stopped.

Okay so yea that's the scene lol- I have another post somewhere with some things about this AU but I'll put some basic info here

Grian and Scar are from district 10 but Grians dad is a peacekeeper and was able to move them to district 3 a few years before both g and scar end up in the games.

Grian got the nickname pesky bird from farmers in D 10 cause he tended to climb around in barn rafters and sing songs in his free time.

Grian had his dad and his mom (whos an engineer) and then scar had just his mom. After scar dies grian also dies (like in third life) out of spite so that the game makers wouldn't have a winner.

Pizza was one of the mutts put into the arena to make the tributes have to fight in order to get food. The llamas had supplies but would brutally attack the tributes, grian and scar were able to wrangle pizza and get a makeshift muzzle on him with their experience from being raised in district 10Also this all takes place during the 25th hunger games where all the tributes were voted on. Scar basically told everyone to vote him cause he didn't want anyone else to deal with the games, grian was voted because people hated that he's a kid of a peacekeeper and no one really had much care for him.

Feel free to ask questions if anyone wants to know anything more!! I did start writing this from before the games and then gave up but I'm willing to give information to the community and let you guys come up with your own ideas and such. >:D

Also have the playlist I made a while ago.

(Thanks @c4-oliver for convincing me to post this here lol)

[tododeku-or-bust]

Hey I heard that you've been having issues with some friends lately about politics lately and was wondering how you're.... dealing, I guess? I'm not American, but my 3 best friends of seven years are. I've considered these people my platonic soulmates and boxes of gifts are still sitting in my closet addressed to them.

But ever since the US. Elections this year, I've felt really sick thinking about people voting for the Dems after they livestreamed a genocide. And none of my friends particularly *like* the Dems at all and think they're complicit and need to do better, but they also did still vote for them in the hopes of not losing insulin/hormones/welfare money they need to live.

And I don't want my friends to suffer or die, but I also feel really gross thinking about my friends doing that. I've tried explaining to them that the Dems aren't any good for us, but they always retort that they need to try in order to live and I never know what to say.

I'm pretty new to any serious leftist movements and don't think I'd really be ready to meet people in a group like that so like,,,, should I keep trying to get through to them since they agree the Dems aren't good? Is that what you've been doing?

I've tried explaining my feelings to people IRL from my country and they all basically agree that "Americans just want to avoid Trump hurting them" and I feel really isolated and scared. This whole debacle has kind of crushed my belief in love and soulmates (platonic or otherwise) and now I don't see much point in continuing to be alive if I have to just cut off every person I've ever known or loved and be alone until I die.

I really hope you aren't experiencing the same feelings I'm going through and that something that makes you really really happy happens this week. And that your wedding goes well! Don't let anybody say you don't deserve to be happy!

Well I can't really speak on soulmates fr, but you wouldn't have to "be alone until you die" if you found community that thought more like you 😅 and I'm not saying that to be snarky, I am completely genuine. For all the peers whose respect I don't have for my beliefs, I have found people that did, that helped me feel reinforced. You said you're not ready to get serious, but when you are, just know that that's what these movements and groups are for! Maybe you'll find different soulmates there! Maybe it's time to let go of the old ones that served a different time for you.

I'm sorry that your friends are not on the same page as you, though. Me personally, when it comes to these things, I am absolutely a black sheep. But I don't try to convince people in my life anymore. I loudly let it be known where I stand so that they cannot deny there is another reality than what they see, that I will not be moving, and that's it. Convincing people who are more concerned with themselves than they are anything else has not served me. I don't talk to people who aren't trying to listen to me 🤷🏾‍♀️ When they're ready to actually listen, then get ready to talk! But the same way you can't persuade them (as of right now), you don't have to let them pressure you, either. I might just be jaded, though. I've allowed a lot of bridges to slowly burn. If they rebuild it, or stop the fire, then that's how it'll be.

Educating yourself is also a great way to reinforce your perspective; part of the reason I'm so confident is because I take the time to read. The things I can't put into words, a LOT of other people across many cultures have! So I'm not blind! I personally value my integrity above social standing, bc at the end of the day you're gonna die with you, and I'll be damned if I never stood for shit bc "clout" by people who only liked me for conforming lmao. I gotta like ME by the end of my life. And ik that's easier said than done, and it does disappoint very often but... I try to do it.

I wish I had better advice for you; I'm sure that was not the soft answer you needed 😅 I appreciate you reaching out to me, and I hope you find the strength within you to continue. 🙏🏾

[moocowmoocow]

Femslash February 01 - Frost

Margo x Irina

Margo limped to her window in her new office. She had been on her feet more in Leningrad than she had been in all her years in the USSR. She was going to feel this over the next few days. But despite the lip service communism paid to egalitarianism, she noticed how much nicer this office was. She now had a window with a view looking out into the courtyard.

She shivered as she looked out over the snow. It reflected the glow of the full moon and Margo felt like that she was watching the patterns of frost forming across the windows. She tried not to jump when she saw Irina’s reflection.

Morozova had its roots in the Russian word for frost. It seemed appropriate. The woman was cool, sometimes cold, and just as deadly.

“It is beautiful, no?” Irina said as she stood behind Margo. Too close. “I must admit, Margo, that as reluctant as I was to share you with the world, to not have you hidden will allow us to move quicker. Perhaps exit the solar system before we die.”

Margo rubbed the ache in her hip as she turned to toward Irina. “Thank you, Director.”

Irina reached out and put her hand over the one Margo had at her hip. Her hand was cold. “You should really see one of our doctors. We do have some of the finest doctors in the Soviet Union here.” She brought her other hand up to cup Margo’s cheek. Margo tried not to shiver. “I do not like to see you in pain.”

Margo nodded, licked her lips and tried to move past her. Irina stood her ground as she stroked her thumb back and forth across her cheek. “I meant what I said. We will go far into the cosmos together.”

Irina leaned in and kissed Margo. Margo kissed her back and tried to calculate the length and pressure of a kiss that would keep her alive.

[gxyhxrror]

.

[roots-symphony]

what's so interesting is that agatha and nicky clearly had their cons well-oiled, and at the end it seems they even started turning their song into a part of it as well, like i don't think that was the first time nicky sang that song for an audience and they used it to lure witches (i do think it's the first time that it /technically/ didn't work), and how after nicky died it continued to gain popularity and be so well-known it became a legend, and along with that agatha being known as the only survivor of the road and people (like billy) seeking her out to walk it or just for knowledge of it. and i think that had been the idea when they first started using it as a con. making it so they no longer had to travel and scavenge, using it as a lure to bring the witches to them in order to keep nicky alive, but only one small misstep and rio got him anyway

and then thinking about how lorna, who had a generational curse placed upon her family that is going to kill both her and her daughter and who desperately wants to see her daughter survive, heard this song and created her own version to use as a protection spell for her daughter and, like agatha did before her, she made her version so well-known and so popular that years and years after death it's still protecting her daughter, until ultimately her daughter was finally able to use it to break the curse and save herself

idk just.. they're like two sides of the same coin, or distorted mirrors of each other

agathas love was so powerful and so strong that death gave nicky time

lornas love was so powerful and so strong that the ballad gave alice time and even freed her

if nicky hadnt been taken that night, could it have eventually freed him as well? rio said agatha used the dark magic of the darkhold to hide herself from rio, so was that the end goal? they'd continue to lure witches to both keep nicky alive and to have agatha become powerful enough to forever keep them hidden?

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[birb--birb]

Soooooo I did lich emmrich...for science..

AND IM SORRY I DONT LIKE IT HOW IS IT MORE COMON THAN SAVING MANFRED??????????

[thecruellestmonth]

Things I'm seeing the Fanon Stans (/pos /affectionate /neutral) pick up lately:

al Ghuls are highly educated doctors ✅️✅️ <- true and correct and canon 👌

Duke hates Dick 🆗️ <- extrapolation and exaggeration but funny and potential-ful

You can identify a Fanon Stan when they preface their statements with "I'm pretty sure that..." or "Well didn't [thing] happen in canon?" and then repeat a cherry-picked or exaggerated version of canon filtered through the silly/venting/manipulative account of a Canon Stan.

[leatherbookmark]

Every once in a while there will be a blogger I'm not following, but whose posts I know and whose blog I visit from time to time. They can either be a generally popular user, a fandom-popular user, a mutual-in-law, or simply someone whose posts I've seen reblogged by other blogs I visit. You know how it is on tumblr dot com.

Anyway, impressing me -- and at the same time making me take you for a Cool Person Who Knows Things, And Whose Opinions Are Important And I Should Defer To Them -- is only a little bit harder than biting into an overcooked noodle, or accidentally stepping on an ant. So, I'll often admire these people from afar and feel sad and inadequate if we disagree on something, or of they criticize something I think is fine (especially if they do it without giving a reason, like 'well, it goes without saying that X simply sucks').

However -- sudden salvation -- every once in a while this blogger will have an opinion that's so nonsensical, or they'll behave in a way that's so unnecessary hostile to someone who doesn't really deserve it, that it's honestly both sad and surprisingly relieving to me because ohhhh okay you're just a fucking asshole. You're not a special, sophisticated mini-god, you're just an asshole who's mean for no reason. Phew! Aaaaand block.

[lastoneout]

Tbh I have a lot of complicated feelings about the whole OceanGate thing and I'm not really a fan of how this is being treated as The Evergiven 2, but as it becomes more and more likely that the sub suffered a critical failure and imploded days ago my main thought is that visiting the Titanic's wreck should be in the same category as climbing Mt. Everest; a pointless, unfathomably dangerous, disrespectful excursion that should not be allowed, or at least regulated and reserved for experts who know what they're doing to conduct research and/or matinance.

I mean like at this point I don't even think the average person should know where Titanic is. What is the benefit? All it leads to is death and the disruption and/or potential destruction of a mass gravesite that also doubles as a unbelievably valuable historic artifact that will not be around forever. Why the hell are people just allowed to go down there?? We don't let people go rub their hands all over the Mona Lisa, and that wouldn't even kill anyone, why can billionaires just go tromping around in far more deadly and fragile locations, especially ones where hundreds of people have already died?

But yeah idk there's no real point in adding my input to the discussion and I kinda don't want to comment on it beyond this anyway, but the whole situation sucks and def makes it clear there are simply some things people should not be allowed to do no matter how much goddamn money they have.

[thedreadvampy]

legitimately insane how to some people, "we should wipe out this ethnic group that we've violently constrained to a ghetto because they're just genetically more violent and dangerous" is a reasonable and justifiable statement but it's Nazi Rhetoric to say something like, "it's bad that Israeli civilians are being killed but acknowledging that as tragic includes acknowledging that the almost daily state-sanctioned murder of civilians by the Israeli government is also tragic and unacceptable"

btw guys speaking of Nazi shit - can we check in, alongside what's been done to Palestinians in the last 75 years, what's the Israeli government's take on the Azerbaijani government's newest round of ethnic cleansing of Armenians? oh are the Israeli government's actions maybe not determined by Jewish identity, but by a commitment to colonial supremacy which puts them on the same page as other violently genocidal states like Azerbaijan, the US, and the UK? god can you Even Imagine?

(framing speaking against Israeli war crimes as inherently antisemitic requires understanding the Israeli state as representing all Jewish people, when it doesn't even represent all Israelis.

framing Israeli war crimes as synonymous with Jewish identity is pretty fucked up if we're being honest. I don't think that controlling water and power and movement for a captive population and shooting children dead for throwing stones is an inherent value of Judaism, any more than I think the torture carried out at Guantanamo Bay is an inherent value of Christianity - in both cases they're atrocities carried out by a far right genocidal government using religious identity as a shield.

Calling statements like "Israel is committing genocide against the people it's displaced" inherently antisemitic is doing more to further the idea that all Jewish people are associated with Israel than saying "the Israeli government is doing war crimes," which is a statement of fact about a country that exists and does war crimes. Is criticism of Israel as a nation often used as cover for antisemitism? Absolutely. Does that mean the Israeli government isn't doing literal war crimes repeatedly, on record, while talking publicly about scrubbing an ethnic group off the map? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well in the last 48 hours they've definitely cut off water and power to almost 600,000 civilians and allegedly used white phosphorus against civilians so in an extremely factual and unambiguous way yeah man those are Literal War Crimes whoever does them.)

[it-begins-with-rain]

Halloween Recommendation: Stephen King's Rose Red

** This one can be tricky to find. It was originally released as a 3 night mini-series in 2002, but then re-released as a motion picture. Apparently Hulu has it?

In 1906, oil barron John Rimbauer built a veritable palace overlooking Seattle. It was his young bride, Ellen, who would give the house it's name: Rose Red.

First blood was drawn before the foundation was even laid. A foreman, murdered over a simple argument. Bizarre deaths and mysterious disappearances plagued Rose Red, swallowing up the Rimbauer family, their servants, friends, and anyone who dared enter.

Eventually, the grand estate fell into disrepair. Paranormal investigators descended upon the property, but none were ever able to solve the mystery, nor stop the deaths.

Now, more than 90 years after the first deaths at Rose Red, Steven Rimbauer, the last living descendant of John and Ellen Rimbauer, has been offered massive sums of money to sell Rose Red. It will be totally leveled, the land used for condos.

Before the house is destroyed, Steven agrees to let Dr. Joyce Reardon and a cobbled-together team of psychics, mediums, and other paranormal investigators do one final sweep of the house.

What evil lurks within Rose Red?

What horrors did John and Ellen Rimbauer summon in their palatial estate- or were they victims themselves?

Why does Rose Red kill the men, but swallow the souls of the women and force them to haunt it's halls?

How many of Dr. Joyce Reardon's team can escape with their lives?

*** Stephen King wrote the screenplay for this story, but there is no novel. Instead, as part of the publicity and hype leading up to the miniseries premiere, "The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer" was published, serving as a prequel. You can buy the novel on Kindle.