#mostly around the issue of I Lack A Car

[captainadwen]

I feel like my brain is just on an unending roll of Apartment Hunting Thoughts

[straightline-bow]

I know everyone is mostly joking with the whole ‘oh the GPDA should strike’ thing after their statement in instagram, but I really think we should be having a conversation about how actually, they can’t strike, and that lack of ability to use collective bargaining can be and may be incredibly dangerous.

The issue with the GPDA as a union is that it only covers the twenty current Formula 1 drivers. Now, many people see no issue with this - why would anyone else need coverage? - but this is what sort of hamstrings the GPDA as a union. Should the members go on strike, there would be backlash in the press, pressure on the FIA, FOM, Liberty and the teams - but there are other drivers, who have the super licences needed to drive an F1 car. And could you even blame them? We’ve seen how hard it can be for rookies to get a seat - Colapinto looks a lot like he may be able to get on the grid, either for next year or the year after, and that is a swansong MIRACLE that came out of nowhere for him. Lawson and Piastri had to wait on the sidelines, as did Doohan. The only Driver’s Academies that seem to be working are Ferrari’s (A Leclerc off to WEC, Bearman in Haas), Mercedes’ to an extent (They tossed Aron aside when he’s been doing fantastically, but Antonelli has a seat) and sort of Mclaren’s (Bortoleto was under them in F2, but he has now severed ties to sign for Audi.). And even then they CLEARLY have their failures. Can you truly blame young drivers for taking any and every opportunity handed to them when so few succeed at all?

A strike would be very easily defeated by the FIA and Co - and there would be no guarantee of contracts post strike, and although the WDCs and highest level drivers could probably weather the storm, there is no way the rookies and those from smaller teams would be able to, and they could likely lose their seats over it. Quite frankly, the only way for a strike to work in the drivers favour in this day and age would be for them to vote to include all drivers who have superlicences in the union, and then for all of them to strike together.

A reminder: every driver who has an official contract with a team entered into the F1 championship can apply for a superlicence, if they hold the other requirements (usually a certain number of points plus a driver’s licence pluse a competition licence plus a theory test on first sitting), which means drivers from IndyCar, WEC, lower formulas, Formula E and test drivers are all usually eligible, or can be. I think the official number is around 70ish drivers are eligible, plus any retired F1 drivers who keep up the fitness standard and 100km of practise across a year - so drivers such as Jacques Villneauve could potentially still have a valid superlicence, so long as he proved he did enough practise.

Aside from the sheer unlikelihood of the GPDA being allowed to vote to include all holders of valid superlicences - which could possibly lead to the core members facing severe consequences, possibly the same as striking on their own - there are a lot of drivers who would not strike for safety precautions, purely they don’t think they are necessary (Brundle on the halo) or because they know if they broke the line they could get a drive, and because the GPDA has so little political power it very rarely is able to intercede to set minimum wages etc the way other unions are able to, any drivers breaking the line would know they weren’t losing out on anything but a moral argument, and potential safety issues. Some people don’t think about safety until they need it.

The current state of affairs is just incredibly concerning, and I think that although it’s fun and fine to make jokes about it, we should definitely remember both the driver’s own lack of agency, and that even though some aren’t satisfied with the statement they put out, it is perhaps one of the only things they can do.

[alpaca-clouds]

Rural Living vs Capitalism

Something I find rather funny is this one thing that somehow left wing and right wing people will agree on: They kinda hate farmers and their protests and them wanting living wages - just for different reasons. Like, sure, there is a certain group of right wing traditionalists who idealize farmers, but pretty much everyone else just is angry with them in one way or another.

Among left wingers I usually make myself unpopular by looking at farmer protests and go: "Yeah, well, actually they are right?" Because most of the times the protesting farmers are the smaller and middle sized farms, who get fucked over by the big coorporate farms. And that is an issue. It is among the issues they are protesting about.

And this is a general thing when it comes to the rural communities.

See, a lot of times left wing people tend to be rather suspicious of rural folks, having this idea that everyone in rural areas is super conservative - not to say racist, misogynist and queerphobic. And... Like, we know that statistically speaking a lot more people with "conservative" ideas (if not outright rightwing) live in the rural areas, which has to do with folks in those areas generally being older. And if younger families move into rural areas, they often are better off and hence statistically also more likely to be right-leaning at the very least.

However, the fact is that nobody gets quite as fucked over by capitalism as people in the rural areas are - both farmers and people just living there. And there are always people living in rural areas for the other reason people might move there: The fact that living in rural areas is on the surface a lot cheaper. Homes are cheaper there at the very least.

But that is where it starts. Because rural folks get fucked over in so many way. Generally there is the fact that a lot of other stuff is more expensive in the rural areas. Often amenities might be more expensive. You want fast internet? Lol good luck finding someone offering it. The internet cables lying in your village are probably like 15 years old. You remember ISDN? You wanna go shopping? Well, you gotta drive 30-60 minutes to the next supermarket. Need new clothes? Well, it is a two hour drive now. Also, the supermarket might be more expensive than the one in the city. You cannot drive a car for some reason? Well, we have a bus that comes two times a day, if you miss it, you are fucked. The next train station is like an hour away. Mostly because for "small" rural communities it is just not payign under capitalism to put all those things into the villages. A big supermarket? Does not make enough money there. Fast internet? Costs too much to put down there. The same with everything else. And thus... Because capitalist companies want to make a profit, a lot of stuff is not available in rural areas. In the worst cases this leads to food deserts - large areas where no supermarkets and ways to get food (other than fast food joints) are avaialble.

Oh, and schools? At times the next school might be more than an hour away as well.

And if you are a farmer? Well, if you are a small farmer you are fucked as well. Because no way in hell are you able to work your farm as efficiently as a coorporate farm management company is able to, who underpay the farmers working for them. Those companies can afford for giant automated systems, too, that take care of a lot of the stuff. Things that a lot of smaller farmers just cannot pay for or need to go into dept for.

So, in so many ways... Yeah, people in rural areas get fucked over again and again. Both people living there - and the farmers. And... Well, yeah. Of course because in the rural areas people tend to be a lot more conservative - but in the end they might be fucked over more than anyone else by capitalism. And due to the lack of basically everything around them, they often lack access to the information of how and why they are fucked over.

Which is not to say, that there are not left wing organizations active in rural areas. And some people there start to see how they get fucked over.

But I just wished for left wing people to also realize that this really is a big issue. And have some sympathy for those people.

[nurse-floyd]

The Weight of Living

Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, ED’s (not overly descriptive. Avoid if you’re suffering from these issues and you’re always welcome to reach out to me if you need help with these issues.

You stood in front of the mirror in your hotel room, adjusting your outfit for probably the hundredth time that morning. Grand Prixs were always a glamorous affair; the paddock was always crowded with celebrities, models, and the other WAGs. The familiar feeling of anxiety washed over you as you turned to the side and further inspected your outfit.

“Hey, are you ready?” your boyfriend Daniel’s voice called out as he appeared in the doorway. His smile was bright, as always, but it faltered slightly as he took in your expression and the way you were examining yourself in the mirror. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just trying to look presentable. I guess this is as good as it's gonna get.”

He walked to your side, his arms wrapping around you and his head coming to rest on your shoulder. “You look gorgeous, as always,” he emphasized with a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back into his embrace. “Thanks, Danny.”

As you walked through the paddock hand in hand with Danny, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other WAGs and celebrities looked so effortlessly perfect, not a hair out of place, their clothes fitting just right and their makeup flawless. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t compare.

You had been trying so hard since these feelings started to arise, skipping meals and spending more time in the gym in the hopes of losing a few pounds here and there to try and fit in among them. All it did was make you feel weaker and more self-conscious. Danny had noticed; he always encouraged you to eat with him, knowing the signs too well himself, but he also trusted you to come to him when you needed and when you were ready.

Danny, always attuned to your emotions, noticed your change in demeanor as you looked around, seeing photographers and the other guests in the paddock. He squeezed your hand a little tighter in support. “You look gorgeous,” as if he read your mind, he leaned over and whispered in your ear.

When the pair of you finally managed to get to the VCARB motorhome, you were left on your own as he was in and out of briefings and media. You hung around and talked to a few friends and RB employees, but mostly kept to yourself.

“You okay, sweetheart?” you heard Danny say as he came over to your side, breaking you from your thoughts. He had just finished up with an interview and wanted to spend any free moment he had with you.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you replied.

“Let’s get you something to eat before free practice. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

You hesitated, but nodded. As you made your way towards the catering area of the motorhome, you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking at you as you loaded up a few items on your plate. Judging. Criticizing your food choices. The anxiety was driving you crazy. In the end, you ended up with a small plate of some fruit, which you mostly pushed around with your fork.

A few hours later, free practice was in full swing, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright as you watched from the paddock. The noise, the stress, the lack of proper food—it was all becoming too much for your body to handle. Your vision blurred, and you felt yourself sway on the spot. The last thing you saw before your vision began to gray was the blur of cars as they zoomed past the screen.

When you came to, you were lying on the plush couch in what you recognized as Danny’s driver's room.

“Hey,” he said softly as he brushed a strand of hair back from your forehead, noticing your eyes fluttering open. “How’re you feeling? You scared the hell out of me.”

You could see the worry etched on his face as he knelt on the floor beside you. As you tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness had you closing your eyes again as you felt Danny guide you back against the plush sofa.

“I’m okay. Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess.”

You knew he wasn’t buying it, though. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and a knowing look. “Sweetheart, I know something’s going on. I wanted to wait for you to come to me and tell me, but now we need to have a serious talk.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Shh, it's okay,” he reassured you as he pulled you into a gentle hug. “I’m not mad, just worried.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. After a moment, he helped you sit up, his hands never leaving yours as his spare hand plumped up a few pillows for you to lean against.

“What’s going on, love?” he asked gently. “You’ve been different lately. Skipping meals, pushing yourself too hard...”

“I just... I don’t feel like I belong here,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I look at the other WAGs and I feel... inadequate. Like I’m not good enough.”

Danny’s eyes softened with understanding. “Your weight or how you look doesn’t define your worth. You are so much more than that, and I love you for who you are, not what you look like.”

“I just want to fit in,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with his thumb, his touch tender and comforting. “You don’t have to change yourself to fit in. You’re perfect as you are. And if you ever need help or support, I’m here for you. Always.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, Danny. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with love. “You don’t have to find out, because I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in weeks.

Danny kissed your forehead, then stood up, offering you his hand. “Now, how about we get you something proper to eat and take it easy for the rest of the day?”

You nodded, taking his hand and standing up. As you walked out of the room, you felt a renewed sense of strength, knowing that with Danny by your side, you could face anything.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Keeping Quiet (Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Severe bullying, injuries, turf burn, mention of violence

Request: Hi, can I request?, a Holmes brother fic, where reader is their youngest brother who is in high school/university getting bullied bc their disability(mute/deaf) and how their deal with that situation, I kinda want reader to be a ball of sunshine who always smile but are sad inside and although they can see through his smile, they struggle to find a way to help them. 🥺

Your life from the get go has always been a little harder than other kids your age. For one, you were the youngest Holmes, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, though when you were born your eldest brother had already graduated university, and your other brother was a teenager not far from leaving school. With their own unique personalities, they struggled to connect you immediately, and you didn’t see them much as a young child. However, since starting Secondary school, they had become a bit more involved, especially since you had moved in with your eldest brother so you could attend a good school that was closer to him, however, you were still mostly by yourself, especially since how work driven both your brother’s were. Oh yeah, and the other thing that made your life a little harder- you were deaf. 

A silent world was all you had known since birth, and because of that, you didn’t have to adjust to any change, instead you just learned to do things differently, like when trying to cross a road on a corner, you’d look at those around you to see if they were going to cross, knowing that if the road was clear and they didn’t move, they could hear a car coming. You never had speech therapy growing up, and since when growing up your parents and brothers always communicated with you with sign language, you never used your voice. To you, your hands were your voice, and the thing in your throat that let you make noises was only for dire emergencies to get immediate attention. 

Right now, you were convinced this wasn’t an emergency, but you had the overwhelming urge to just scream as hard as you can. You wanted so badly to be heard, but feared backlash, either from your peers of your issues being perceived as fake or not nowhere near as bad as you felt they were, or backlash from the people who were making you feel like this. 

You’d just gotten home from school, and you entered as quietly as you could, closing the door briskly and looking around, not sure if Mycroft was home, and you didn’t want to see him right now. You closed the front door, looking at the empty coat hook where you’d usually place your coat, except you didn’t have it with you, so instead you just kicked off your shoes and tried to head to your bedroom with your school bag. However, for obvious reasons, you hadn’t heard Mycroft and Sherlock bickering in the other room, or that they had promptly stopped when the front door shut loudly from how quickly you had shut, followed by your footsteps through the house at an accelerated rate to your bedroom, and the noise of your door being shut just as quickly as the front door. The two brothers stood in silence, staring in the direction of the noises before turning to face each other. “Something’s wrong.” Sherlock spoke up. 

“I’m aware of that.” Mycroft scoffed, before they began to walk to go up the stairs. Sherlock stopped at the bottom though, though Mycroft continued up. Sherlock checked the entrance of the house, noticing your lack of coat, either meaning you were still wearing it or didn’t have it, and the droplets of water on the floor, as well as your school shoes being shiny and darker than usual, told him it was the latter. It hadn’t rained in the last hour. He finally followed after Myrcoft, who was already trying your door, though it was locked. He turned to Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes followed the wet droplet stains in the carpet to your door. “He’s locked himself inside.” Mycroft pointed out.

“Give me your credit card.” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft went into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and going through it to hand him a card, before Sherlock shoved him out of the way, sliding the card through the door, pushing the lock out, and when it clicked open, he turned the handle opened the door enough to stick his hand in, reaching for the light switch, flicking the lights on and off in your room to get your attention. He didn’t get a reaction from you. No multiple knocks to signify he could enter, and not a singular knock for him not to come in. He waited another moment, before looking at Mycroft who at this point looked worried, fist pressed to his mouth. Sherlock opened the door further.

They didn’t see you when they first stepped into the room, but Sherlock noticed your school bag- wet through, soaking the carpet, dirty, the zip busted, a strap broken, several school books looking ready to fall out after being crammed in that were soggy and ruined. With that, he knew where you were- the small bathroom attached to your room. He walked to the shut door, trying the door, finding this one unlocked, and he slowly stepped in, looking down and to the side, seeing you sat on the floor, legs pulled to your chest, head resting on your knees. 

“Mycroft, go make tea.” Sherlock said monotone, not taking his eyes away from you. Mcroft, who had noticed your bag and was trying to find anything to salvage, stood up straight, processing the situation, before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock slowly entered the bathroom, kneeling down before sitting on the floor beside you, carefully reaching out, lightly tugging on your soaked and dirty school jumper to get your attention. You peeked up, making eye contact, your eyes red and as wet as your uniform. Sherlock didn’t need to ask what happened, and you didn’t need him going on a revenge campaign in your honour, at least not yet. Instead, he signed ‘I’ll run you a hot bath, and you get undressed. Are you hurt?” You sniffed, signing a yes, before you started to take off your jumper, pulling it over your head, and Sherlock’s eyes immediately took notice of the wet white material that had stains of red on your arms, and as he looked closer, he saw your hands, and presumably your forearms as well were scraped up and red raw. Sherlock took your jumper from you, standing up, before signing to you again. “Drop them just outside the door when you’re done.” He said, turning to the bath, plugging the drain, and turning on the taps, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Mycroft arrived shortly after with a tray, cup of tea and snacks as well, placing it on your bedside table. “What happened?” Mycroft asked. 

“He’s been bullied. I’m not sure what happened, maybe he tried to bring up what was happening or tried to stand up for himself, but it escalated outside of school- his uniform needs to be cleaned and died- where’s your first aid, he’s scraped up as well.” Sherlock listed. Mycroft’s mouth open and closed repeatedly, before he spoke. 

“I-I didn’t know.” He stuttered. “He never… he never told me he was having issues at school. I had no idea.” He explained, and Sherlock frowned. 

“I didn’t know either.” Sherlock added. It wasn’t a lot to say, but it made Mycroft feel so much better. If Sherlock didn’t notice something was wrong until now, then there was practically no way for Mycroft to see either. You hid it, and you hid it well. You hid it from the best. 

“I’ll call the school administration and organise a meeting with them. I’ll find out who did this.” Mycroft decided, reaching out and taking the jumper from Sherlock. “I’ll also get the first aid” he commented, turning and leaving the room again. Sherlock stood in your room, not moving, and he waited until he heard the bath water turn off, the door open, your clothes hit the floor and the door shut again before he turned and went and grabbed the clothes, taking them to be washed with your jumper. Sherlock heard Mycroft on the other side of the house, yelling on the phone about repercussions, demanding a meeting tomorrow, even if it’s the weekend, before his voice became louder, him walking into the same room with Sherlock, wordlessly giving him the first aid before leaving again to continue his argument, and Sherlock headed back upstairs to your room. 

He peeked into your room, seeing you had gotten out, dried off and dressed into your pyjamas, sitting on the edge of your bed. He flashed the lights again to get your attention before stepping in, coming and sitting down on your bedside, carefully taking your hands, rolling up the sleeves to properly see the scrapes and turf burn, which made him wince, imagining the pain in the bath, even though you didn’t make a peep. You didn’t make sound despite the pain, and that really, really bothered him. He wordlessly cleaned them and bandaged them, before signing to you “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You nodded, crawling deeper into the bed so your legs were rested on it, and Sherlock pulled your pant legs up to your knees, seeing even more turf burns, and he copied what he did with your hands, pulling the legs back down when he was done, before he pushed the medical equipment away from him, and waited in front of you till you looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He signed to you, speaking the words along with it. All he got was a shrug, which Sherlock was not going to accept. “Did they threaten you?” He added. You looked away, before finally signing. 

“It wasn’t too bad. I could handle it, I didn’t want to worry you. But I think someone else reported what they saw and they thought it was me.” You explained to him. 

“So if it wasn’t reported, you hadn’t planned to tell us?” Sherlock questioned. 

“It wasn’t a big deal.” You signed, clearly frustrated, which was paralleled by Sherlock. 

“Well it is now. We’re your brothers, your family. If something bothers you, you tell us, even if you’re annoyed at the way light reflects through a window, or how they’ve changed the packaging on a product in the shops, you tell us. Even if you think it’s harmless or not a big deal, we’d rather you told us about little things instead of hiding things until they become huge things. This is huge now, and we’re going to deal with it.” His signing firm and almost exaggerated. You’d never seen someone yell via sign language, yet here Sherlock was, somehow finding a way to do it, and it was pretty effective. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised to try and calm him down, which seemed to work. 

“How long has this been going on? How many of them are there, and what are their names? Tell me everything.” 

A few minutes later, Mycroft finally got off the phone, pacing for a minute to plan his next actions- deciding if he needed to call someone else, or go and check on you, but then Sherlock came into the room, and handed him a piece of paper, with names, examples of what each person did and their role in the attack, and how long it had been going on with a short timeline of other incidents. “I trust this is enough to start with?” Sherlock asked, watching as Mycroft skimmed over it. 

“This has been going on since he started secondary school?” Mycroft questioned, Sherlock briskly nodded, before tapping the paper to make him focus again. “Yes. This is enough. I’ll locate their parents and addresses, gather more information, I’ll have people look into CCTV to see if we can catch any footage of them following, chasing or… attacking him.” Mycroft explained, folding the paper up, before tucking it into his pocket. “How is he?” 

“He’s going to be sore for a while, keep an eye on his injuries- maybe take him to the doctor just to have it on record. He’s not very talkative at the moment, but we really need to get him to start talking to us more about things happening to him. If he’s ever quiet around you, try and engage him and ask about what he’s thinking about, get him out of the habit of keeping everything locked up. Leave the addresses to me. I’ll personally make sure they get the letters about the police investigation when you have it ready.” Sherlock said, walking to the entrance of the house, Mycroft followed him, watching his younger brother grab his coat, swing it around him and put it on. 

“Sherlock, do not threaten them- it’ll not be good for the investigation.” 

“I have no intention of threatening children, Mycroft. But I will make sure the point is put across that those parents have done an awful job and that they shouldn’t have messed with Y/N.” Sherlock promised, before promptly leaving. Mycroft huffed after the door shut, glancing up the stairs, before deciding to make a fresh hot drink for you to get started with a conversation with you.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter@keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[theblueflower05]

These Violent Delights: Chapter One

A/N: Thanks for bearing with when it came to getting this first chapter out! Work has been dragging me by my hair, but i'm going to try to get this story updated every week. At least until I’m able to work through this Spike Fearn brain rot I’ve got going on rn.

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy from the jump. I mean, check the source material. Talks of suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Loneliness. Smut coming later!

Pariring: Bjorn x Reader

Summary: A friendship is formed under the most unlikely of circumstances.

✨Masterlist

✨Playlist

Next Chapter

Every day is exactly the same.

The sentiment runs through your head as you blearily blink up at the water stained ceiling. The comforter is tangled around your legs and your mouth is dry- a side effect from the sleeping pills. The shrill ringing of the alarm is the only indication that the morning has rose on the horizon, outside the singular window in your apartment it is still black as pitch. Your joints crack when you finally force yourself out of bed.

You go through your morning routine in an almost mechanical manner. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed in the standard issued trousers and blouse you’d been given when you got your assignment- the holes you’d sewn up yourself are barely noticeable. Barley. Clip your hair back. Even the movements as you eat the tar like oatmeal feel too practiced. Fake.

Lately, you’ve found you dont feel very real anymore. There’s probably droid’s walking around, wires for veins, that feel less hollow than you do.

Jackson Star is a planet in the Alfeios system, and in the 11 years you’ve been stationed here you’ve realized, that it is a planet that should've never been colonized. It’s harsh, by nature. Sweltering summers followed by frigid winters, and the ever present, extremely active volcanoes. The atmospheric processors can only do so much.

And they cant do shit about the lack of sun.

They can try to replicate it; expensive lamps and vitamin C tablets acting like a cheap knock off. Like Weyland-Yutani Corps way of saying sorry we dropped you in hell- here's the shittiest consolation prize in the galaxy.

This particular Friday is gloomier then usual, rain accompanying the dark. The walk down the cluttered streets feels even more…hopeless than usual. Like maybe this is all there is. Blurring lights of neon signs and the ruddy faces of children that hold out their hands on corners, begging for their next meal.

Like maybe if you stepped in front of the bus in this cross walk- then it would end the loop. You’d be able to get out of this eternally dark purgatory.

They aren't new thoughts, but you lifting your foot to step of the curb is. You go numb, not thinking or feeling as you step into oncoming traffic.

Theres the blaring honk of a heavy hand on a horn and then you're being yanked backwards, hard.

You gasp as you’re pulled back onto the sidewalk and out of the way of oncoming traffic. You’re equal parts grateful and disappointed. But mostly you’re shocked.

The girl is small statured, her brown eyes wide behind unruly curls. She curses filthy and fast in Spanish.

Her gaze makes you feel uncomfortably scene. Its assessing and…worried. Its been a long time since anyone worried about you. “Are you alright?”

You’re taken aback by her question.

“I’m fine. Didn’t see the cars coming” you don’t understand why you’re explaining yourself to this stranger. It’s probably the hot embarrassment that’s pointing your face red.

She doesn’t look amused by your answer but nods slowly “Okay…”

The signal turns red, the cross walk sign lights up and you’re gone, fast as your feet can take you away from your unlikely savior. Leaving her standing there, confused.

“You’re welcome!” Comes her snark filled holler. You don’t blame her. But with the shame filling you, you also can’t look at her. You just give a haphazard wave behind you. A piss poor thanks, you know.

You hope you never see her again.

-

After the blip this morning, the routine persists- until it doesnt.

The office is how it always is. Bleak. The yellow lights flickering and the wallpaper peeling. Patty, a heavy set woman with an acidic smile sits at the front desk. The grim reaper at the mouth of the river Styx. It’s pleasantries, your badge is scanned and then you find your way back to your cubicle. As ready as anyone can be to stare at a screen and four walls for the next twelve hours.

Maybe it’s something in the damp air, but once again, the day deviates from the norm.

You only ever work with electronic filing. Sorting piles and piles of e-documents into they Weyland/Yutani system. An office grunt you’ve been called. And yet today they want you up front, something about “Yolanda from zoning and housing” missing a day because her son is dying from black lung. God forbid she want to be by his side. It leaves the office understaffed.

“I’m not trained for that position” you try to reason but it falls on deaf ears. There are numbers to be punched, and your lack of true no how doesn't really matter. You begrudgingly leave your familiar desk, taking only the thermos of hot coffee with me. Small mercies, really.

Front desk is as hellish as one would think it would be. Between having to interact with real human beings, not the computers you’re used to combined with Patty’s snooty remarks; you’re absolutely jonsing to get the fuck out of there and go home by the afternoon.

In the back office the digital copying machine is down for the fifth time this week. All of the filing systems have honestly been off- a result of the shitty outdated tech on this planet.

“Ugh- they really dont know what they're doing back there” Patty sighs, muttering under her beath about how she doesnt get paid enough for this shit “Im going to go help. Again. Keep your head down and follow the guideline on the forms” she gives me stern instructions and a side eye “And dont touch my stories”

She cares more about the trashy soap operas she watches on her tablet then the mother she just evicted from her apartment.

Where’s a fucking droid when you need one? This is most definitely a job that shouldn't be done by anyone with a conscience.

With dread in your stomach you put on a brave face as the security system announces the next client;

Oh.

It’s a girl. With a small stature and wide brown eyes. Ones that reflect the same recognition you feel. It takes a moment for you to swallow the surprise.

“Name” You demand in a practiced voice. The shakiness you feel not transmuting to your tone. Or at least you hope it doesnt.

“Kay Harrison” and just like that, she’s not a stranger anymore “I’m here for an appointment”

You type quickly, plugging in the details on the keyboard. Pulling up her file. Scanning the information quickly. “Yes, I can see that. Here to formally request an eviction extension”

Damn. Thats tough.

“Yes. But only because we truly will be able to pay it next week. I brought not only mine but my brothers work logs and proof of direct deposit-” she pulls out a beat up old tablet and slides it under the glass. “We’ll be able to get the rent paid in full by the fourth”

What kind of cruel fate is this? The most twisted form of serendipity. She saved you this morning and now you have to co-sign on her eviction this afternoon.

You know it doesn't matter, you saw their file. The Harrisons arent newbies to being late for rent and their landlord is chomping at the bit to get them out.

“I’ll scan these into your case but at this point in the process it really doesn't matter” at your words, panic induced tears fill her eyes.

“No- because. We’re late. But we always pay. We’ve never been negligent, not on purpose. Since my dad died we’ve done our best” Kay rambles an explanation that doesn't matter and you feel frozen. Stuck. Conflicted in a way that you we’re supposed to have trained out of you.

“I cant-” you sigh and she looks pathetic. Drained…void.

A feeling you know all too well. That had almost led you right into the grill of a bus this very morning. And yet- she’d stepped in.

You gnaw on your lip and as discreetly as possible, your eyes scan around the empty office. Your co-workers still not back yet. You’re the only one in here. Its madness, but if there was any time to act on madness- it would be now.

You begin typing furiously, entering in codes that a normal front desk clerk wouldn't know, it isn’t in their training. But you’d been trained for filing.

“An extension wont be needed” You speak purposefully, giving Kay a pointed look “The landlord marked the eviction for the fifth. That gives you three more days to get a payment in before the constable is scheduled to come for the lock out”

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

The landlord had actually marked the second but well. It’s an easy enough over turn. Easy, but extremely illegal. You just did something that could not only cost you your job but risk your contract. Land you in jail-

“He marked the wrong date…” Kay chews the words, like she cant believe what she’s saying.

“Yep” I say quickly, finishing up, covering my ass by copying multiple files into the system. It would be hard as shit to uncover it, if anyone cared to bother. Kay’s just another file in the hundreds today. “Here you go, Miss Harrison. You have seventy two hours to get the payment to the respective party. If not the constable will be there to conduct the eviction”

I slide her tablet back towards her.

“I- I don't know what to say” She stutters and you give her a glare. You don't have the time for groveling, for un- needed thanks. As far as you’re concerned, you are now even.

“Don't say anything. Take your things and go”

I don't look at her again, not even when she leaves. Instead I refocus on my computer screen. Trying to breathe through the nerves that wrack my body. That was just about the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

Your heart beats furiously and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in months.

-

After that it seems like something has been broken. The pattern no longer functions.

Jackson Star is by no means a small colony. Thousands strong, full of unfamiliar faces. And yet. You keep running into the same one.

“Here, I grabbed you a coffee. Extra sugar, like ya like, even though it’s going to rot your teeth out” Kay waits for you at the same corner that the two of you had met on. Weeks ago. She’d hunted you down after that fateful day and had shown that she wasn't giving up on showing her gratitude so easily.

Having friends in the colony is a dangerous game. Every friend you’ve ever had has either been transferred off planet or died. And yet here you are, eagerily bounding over to Kay. Taking the paper cup full of cheap coffee.

“My teeth are my own business thank you”

And it goes like this; the train station where Kay catches her ride to the mines isn't far from your job so the two of you make your morning commute together, gabbing about nothing. It's nice. It feels familiar, you used to have loads of friends.

Kay’s easy to talk to and she shares so much of herself so freely. Her little stories about her family make you smile. Make you feel warmth, and secretly longing. And yet still, every time the topic of you meeting everyone comes up you shy away.

Being friends with Kay is one thing. Meeting the most important people in her life is another.

She offers again today. Dinner at her house, ya’ know, the one she still has because of you. It’ll be lowkey. Just the friends. Fun.

Although you crave it, you’re scared of it too. That’s why you’re shaking your head, giving another of those flimsy excuses. Kay just pats your arm.

“If you change your mind, you’re still more than welcome to come. I’ll text you the details, okay?” She’s got this way about her. Gentle but not condescending, a hard balance to strike. Too bad she’s on this near barren planet, she’d be a great mother.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you”

When the two of you hit the proverbial fork in the road- you go your way and she goes hers. You to the office and her to the mines. Both prisons in their own rights.

You watch her cross the street and join a tall man at the train station. His skin’s the same shade as hers, his eyes the same almond shape. He’s handsome in a way that you’ve only seen on screens, in those old movies your mom used to watch.

This must be the older brother she talks so much about. Tyler.

He says something you can’t quite decipher to her and then looks over her shoulder, across the street at you, and beams.

Its not a normal smile. It’s pearly whites flashed at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. When he gives you a smooth wave you feel like you might be knocked over.

You just know the grimace and jerky hand motion you give back is as awkward as it feels.

If you obsess about how much of an antisocial weirdo you are all day, that’s your own prerogative.

I mean come on? You can’t even manage to wave back at someone? You truly need to get it together.

You think about that as you eat dinner at your makeshift table that night. Maybe, you’re just out of practice. You’re not awkward, just dusty. You just haven’t spoken to anyone for more then five minutes since your upstairs neighbor had a pipe burst.

It’s what leads you to pulling out your phone, to pulling up Kay’s contact. It’s still new. Still fresh.

Is there anything I should bring?

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

Kay: Nope, just yourself!😊 [location attachment] see you tomorrow.

You stare at her response on the small bright screen until your eyes burn. This is the change you had craved so badly.

So why are you so scared?

This chapter kind of took on a life of its own. I so desperately wanted to have Bjorn in this but there was just- a lot of ground to cover. Next chapter we’re jumping right into introducing him (and smut towards a the end of that chapter to!)

Big shout out to @spikedfearn for letting me ramble like a crazy lady in her inbox. Her Bjorn content literally makes me salivate.

If anyone else is still going through Romulus hyperfixation please feel free to comment or send asks! I’m always here to chat!

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #38 – Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion

Didion is one of those canonical authors I always feel like I should already have read at some point (isn’t that what high school English class was supposed to be for). Of course this was a very vague feeling, and not attached to a single scrap of actual information about her and her work beyond the general time period and cultural milieu – so I grabbed this from the library and started it entirely blind (partially my own fault for skipping the introduction by a different and much worse author tbf). Fascinating book, artistically successful and emotionally affective, but not one I’m able to say I really found enjoyable, or even necessarily beautiful (it’s no Giovanni’s Room, to compare another bit of canonical latter-20th century high literature).

The book follows Maria Wyeth, an (increasingly former) actress in 1960s Hollywood, through her slow decline from up and coming starlet and wife of a prestigious young director to an enforced retirement as an isolated upscale sanitarium/hospital resort. Which is hardly a spoiler – the book starts at the end and jumps through the timeline freely, and in any case the whole thing feels telegraphed to the point of inevitability. Maria’s life in LA is contrasted with how she grew up in a tiny desert town in Nevada, so small it at some point stopped existing, and in the process more or less gives you the narrative of her life.

Which is as close to a plot as the book has, really. Maria and her internal monologue are the near-sole focus, and her view of the outside world and what’s happening around her basically always says more about her than the world. Watching Maria’s life falls apart really is watching a car crash in slow motion – you’re never really surprised at any point, but the shearing metal and flesh are hard to look away from.

The book’s very much capital-l Literature, here meaning that the style and prose is at least half the reason to read the book. The story’s told through short vignettes (I’m not sure a singe chapter was more than ten pages, whereas the vast majority were two or three) and the deliberate, generous use of white space, both figurative and literal. Maria is pretty relentless in her self-deception and lack of self-awareness, and in any case is quiet elusive and vague with descriptions of people and events – reading between the lines is quite necessary. This overall really does work for me - the imagery is vivid and memorable, and Maria’s head is a compelling and believable place to be.

It’s also just intolerable. I have no particular issue with deeply unsympathetic, tragically unselfaware, or wince-inducingly self-destructive characters, but Maria sure is all three of those to a degree I rarely see. More than that, she is just profoundly passive. It is, for me at least, far easier to be invested in operatic delusion and hubris leading to ruination than a just resolutely thoughtless and pettily cruel person letting her life rot around her. Which is a failure of literary empathy on my part, probably, but did make this a somewhat frustrating book to read. You’re left want to scream at Maria to just do something (anything!) that she isn’t led to by people around her like an ornery goat to water.

This is probably exacerbated by the supporting cast. Who are all very much portrayed as hopeless, clueless gamblers and unprincipled, hypocritical Hollywood decadents,, absolutely – but despite that, keep trying to reach out and offer her lifelines or support. Which is mostly surprising because she might literally not say a single kind word to another human being in the entire book, is relentlessly caustic in her internal monologue, and sure isn’t doing favours or advancing the career of anybody. The real tension of the book ends up not being whether or not she’ll destroy her life and more how long before everyone around her just lets her.

It’s a blisteringly cynical novel overall, really – both in its portrayal of individual characters and of society as a whole. I joked while reading it that it felt like American Psycho without a Patrick Bateman, and while that’s a bit too far – everyone’s still very recognizably human, most of whom do care about at least a few things besides status symbols and dick measuring contests – but the portrayals of Hollywood and Wall Street certainly feel like they rhyme.

Though the implicit politics of that cynicism do feel do feel very different here. Very possibly because the back cover called it something like ‘a blistering satire of the excesses of the ‘60s’ (paraphrasing from memory), but the book definitely ended up feeling very (socially) conservative, full of worries about broken families and marriages of convenience and just generally decadence. The whole plot where Maria gets a motel-room abortion to deal with the consequences of her affair which almost kills her, sends her spiralling into months of total, life-ruining depression, and destroys her relationship with both her husband and her paramour feels like something you’d only see coming out today in explicit pro-life propaganda, for example; certainly it’s a trope I’ve seen complained about more than (until now) I’ve ever actually seen done. The fact that Maria’s foremost redeeming feature is always her love for and desire to be with her (disabled and permanently hospitalized for vague reasons), and that the climax of the book is a suicide directly caused by infidelity, also. None of which should exactly be surprising, really – a book almost as old as my parents has dated opinions on social issues! - but for some reason I always expect canonical authors to have been free-wheeling libertines and bohemians.

Speaking of being written nearly sixty years ago – the time capsule quality of this book is positively fascinating. Which I say whenever I read something from before the millennium, but still – the ‘60s are still so profoundly mythologized I do love the chance to see anything written about them at the time, if only for ‘the past as a foreign country’ tourism reasons. The Hollywood of exploration, drug abuse, meaningless sex, vicious gossip and every combination of the above feels like it could almost be written about today, right up until the point where an easy divorce means finding an amenable judge and finding a witness to corroborate the husband’s admission of wanton emotional abuse (which becomes a stark reminder of how horrifying even a historical five minutes ago was when you consider what happens if you can’t meet any of those conditions). The illegal abortions, the utterly casual homophobia, the auteur theory being a hot new thing, the cult of the open road. It all adds up to an interesting effect.

Speaking of the cult of the open road – Maria’s only real sense of peace, happiness and self-control in the entire book is when she’s spending all day cruising the highway at dangerous speeds just for the sake of it, without itinerary or destination. No real coherent point to make, just that there’s something truly and incredibly American about that? The descriptions of the Nevada desert and highways, too.

But yeah, an expertly written novel that’s positively lovely in places (the opening monologue is near-sublime, for example), but not one that really awed or oved me the way some other literature has.

[tulipe-rose]

forget I just posted that because I just thought of the funniest skk fic prompt while brooding in bed and scrolling through my dashboard.

Pm skk, but they stay at an abandoned hospital, that surprisingly still has its beds, for the night (organizations like the sheep usually get to them as soon as the place gets abandoned).

They split up to check the place for any threats before meeting back at the main lobby, giving each other the all clear. They're both too weary to actually sleep despite the apparent lack of threat so they decide to pull an all nighter. They take all the mattresses off the beds and stack them on top of each other using Chūya's ability and begin playing some twisted versions of sleepover games like 'never have I ever'. There's always a penalty lmao.

Oh and there's this unspoken competition on who'd fall asleep first. Competitive mfs here.

Chūya begins feeling drowsy from staying put for too long so he abruptly gets up and just casually strolls around in circles until an idea pops into his head and a devilish grin spreads across his face. He heads over to one of the hospital beds and rocks it a little to test its wheels. Mildly rusty but functional enough. nothing his ability can't solve.

Dazai be looking at him and like 'really?' and Chūya smirks back in 'you chickening out?' which ends up with them racing through the halls and down flights of stairs on mattress-less hospital beds, repositioning the mattresses at the bottom to cushion the crash. They head over to the kitchens later and unexpectedly find an ancient radio that seemed to have a small issue where some wires were connected wrong, easy fix for Chūya, who spent most of his life living off scraps and repairing stuff like this all the time. (Dazai thinks it's cool but he'd rather let Mori admit him into therapy than admit it; he can just drive the therapist a little insane and gaslight them into believing Dazai is perfectly fine.)

There's little to no signal in the kitchens (seriously what was this thing doing there in the first place?) so they end up scouring the hospital (they give up 2 minutes and forty seconds in.) for signal until they just head over to the roof, which was full of broken and discarded objects.

They sit at the edge and settle on listening to a punk rock song that was audible enough with the tune being satisfying enough. The light pollution in this part of suribachi city was especially non-existent, so the stars burned brightly, the sky's beauty a sight to behold for Dazai, who didn't see stars all that often given that he was a city boy through and through, and a nostalgic scenery for Chūya, who used to stargaze whenever he had too much to think about. The atmosphere was tranquil, calming even, for a while there.

They spend the last two hours before sunrise sitting there mostly in silence, save for some small talk and the occasional comment about every new song that came on. It was actually nice.

They head out by sunrise, calling Hirotsu up to send them a car once they were out of the broken down area and into familiar Mafia territory.

They go back to the hospital again as twenty two year olds, Chūya having taken the radio with him last time, returns with it, the signal as bad as it was back then. They felt like teenagers again /pos (for them, being a teenager was actual hell so I felt the need to specify that this is a good thing in this case), the place felt more and more nostalgic the longer they strolled through the halls, the mattresses they left, torn up and yellow, exactly the way they left them.

The stars were just as beautiful as they were all those years ago.

[lace-coffin]

hii!! I absolutely love your works ‼️‼️ yummy

//

But I was wondering how Asa Emory would react to a Kid? Around 7-9.

Butttt, Asa comes home from teaching a bunch of kids, gets dressed and goes to the hotel but when he comes in, there’s stuff like missing, other peoples doors / cages open, etc, and there’s like a little kid stuck somewhere (like maybe Asa’s safe room or whatever) and the little kid kinda of just broke into the hotel looking for shelter.

(Like the kids in an abusive family, etc, and has really ripped clothing and a few bruises on their face)

Idk if this is silly, 😭I just wonder how Asa would react to a abused kid breaking into his hotel and being like ‘dis my hotel now’

How would Asa Emory react to a child breaking into his hotel?

Requests are open!

Asa was bone tired. Teaching children will do that to you. Not that anything particularly noteworthy happened, a few tantrums he had to sooth but that was about it, nothing special. Still, teaching kids sucks the energy and maybe your soul out of you.

Children operate on such a different wave length to us and come out with and do things that Asa couldn’t even begin to conceptualise. Today a kid told him “mommy said that my daddy is going to be having a sleep over at his lady friends house from now on, so I get to sleep in the big bed!” And then walked off like it was nothing.

Trudging into his room Asa tugs off his tie, work clothes following soon after, sighing he slings them onto the bed in a heap, he can deal with it later. Usually he would take a shower but considering the work he does it would just be a waste to get clean to get dirty again.

Slamming the door of his white, but mostly grey van due to it being in dire need of a wash, Asa makes his way to the front entrance of the hotel.

Immediately he can tell something is wrong, the door is still locked as he left it but the bordered up window has a gaping hole across two of the planks, most likely rammed in on the spots that were weakened by weathering.

The gap was maybe large enough for a lanky adult to squeeze through, maybe a child? It definitely wasn’t the police, there would be cop cars and way more fanfare. Looters maybe? If it was looters then there’s a chance the traps inside had taken care of the issue already. It’s not like they’d find anything of value, well anything of monetary value, he’s not sure criminals would consider his collection as valuable as he does.

Steeling his nerves he enters the building, hand readied at his pocket knife clipped to the ring on his belt, it’s unlikely anyone would manage to get the jump on him in his own hotel but it’s always good to be prepared. After darting around corners cautiously he makes it to the control room, something of a safe room almost, before pausing.

Ah, a child. Stood defensively just beyond the door is a dirtied looking child, skin unclean and clothes having seen better days. He defiantly has some guts breaking into here of all places, or maybe it’s just desperation? It looks like the child may not have anywhere to go or atleast doesn’t have a safe home environment. Ok, get the kid to safety and then he’s out of Asa’s (lack of lol) hair. He’s pretty sure all his subjects are secured and in there cages but he can never be too sure what happens overnight when he leaves so it’s best to be hasty. He works with kids all day, he can do this.

He can’t do this. Admittedly the kid probably has a lot going on but they’re a nightmare. So far they’ve kicked and hit whenever Asa approached, attempted to bolt from the locked room, and declared “this my hotel now” to an unamused collector. Eventually they come to a truce, finally managing to subdue the kid with fruit slices and the promise of taking them to the authorities. As much as he doesn’t want the police snooping around here it’s not like he can leave the kid in the cold like this. Asa’s going to have to drive to a random street and essentially lie about where and how he found the kid.

Lord help this man.

[becauseimanicequeen]

WHAT I’M CURRENTLY WATCHING

ONGOING:

TO BE CONTINUED (Thailand): I’m having the time of my life with this one due to the main characters’ lack of communication, fear of fessing up to their feelings toward each other, the drama of the past, and Poppy (I always love Poppy!).

LOVE IS BETTER THE SECOND TIME AROUND (Japan): I love mature QLs (mature as in adult characters that are complex, flawed, and feel real, and that deal with real-life problems). This is no exception. I also love stories with the possibility of getting a second chance (because everyone makes mistakes).

1000 YEARS OLD (Thailand): This one is way too cute for me (I have a hard time vibing with too much cuteness). You would think this is a series about vampires and aliens, but it’s actually about soup and umbrellas. The only reason I’m still watching this is because of said umbrellas. The umbrellas got me hooked! (Welcome to the real struggles of a visual artist.)

CLOSE FRIEND SEASON 3: SOJU BOMB! (Thailand): There are too few episodes for me to say something substantial about this one. The neon lights in the first episode got me good, though (and I’m a slut for neon lights). Also, I love drunken shenanigans (in fiction, btw) and it’s delivering on that front.

TWO WORLDS (Thailand): This is another series with too few episodes for me to say something substantial. I like the vibe so far, though. Also, I always have a sweet spot for artists so Khram has a special place in my heart.

DEEP NIGHT (Thailand): I love the club setting (again, neon lights are my thing) and the chemistry between the characters (especially between Seiji and Pan). There’s also the possibility of a poly relationship (which I and so many others are hoping for).

(I hope I don’t get as clowned about this poly relationship as I got clowned about Non showing up alive in DFF.) (Either way, I’m staying in this clown car because I need poly! Hope is said to be the last thing leaving a person...)

CITY OF STARS (Thailand): This is really sweet. The characters are sincere and have great communication skills. Fueang and Krom maturely solve every issue that shows up. It’s nice to see a great relationship like this for a change (even though I do love watching miscommunicating characters as well).

ANTI RESET (Taiwan): I’ve recently started watching this and easily got into it since I could binge several episodes. It has an interesting story (falling in love with a robot that seems very real and human). The chemistry between the main characters is great and the visuals are gorgeous (Yi Ping’s house is beautiful, even though the front door never seems to be properly closed, like, ever).

A SECRETLY LOVE (Thailand): Right now, the only reasons I’m watching this is because of Kimmon (the actor who plays Pluem), Kut (who plays Khonprot, since I haven’t moved on from his role as Din in Chains of Heart), the sapphic side-couple (even though it’s a fake relationship right now) with rhyming names (Soi and Froi), and the neon lights. Mostly because of the neon lights! (I’m such a slut for neon lights!)

UNKNOWN (Taiwan): When I say that I’m obsessed with this series, it’s because I am. These characters live in my mind rent-free 24/7. The chemistry, the palpable yearning, the dialogue, the emotions expressed through the acting when there is no dialogue, etc., etc., etc. It’s just soooo great.

(Unknown does cover a topic that’s generally seen as taboo (“adoptive” brothers falling in love), so, be aware of that. I don’t have any issues watching series with taboo topics because there’s very little stuff I get uncomfortable with when it comes to fiction. So, I’m in love with this series with my whole stone-cold heart.)

[thisbarbiereallylikesbirds]

Who is the second biological parent of the kids? Like the first is obviously splinter but who is the second? Or are they biologically engineered so they don't really have second? And your au is fun to read

First of all, thank you I'm very glad that you like the au :) :) :)

As for your questions, it's honestly something that I've asked myself several times and struggled to find an answer for that I like.

The main issue is that most of my human aus are more "human" aus since the boys technically are still turtles, they just wear cloaking broaches and as a result grow up thinking that they're humans. This isn't the case in this au, they straight up are just regular humans.

So the lack of magic/alchemy plus the fact that Draxum is unable to do unethical experiments on anyone since he is granted legal custody of the kids kinda makes things difficult.

All that being said, here is my current lore for how the boys came to be (keep in mind that this might change in the future).

TW: mentions of a car wreck and the injuries coming from that, depression, human experimentation

Back in the late 90's after breaking up with his long term girlfriend, Lou Jitsu was in a pretty serious car wreck. It left him with some scarring, a pretty serious back injury, and chronic pain. As a result, he retired from acting. He lived off of the money he'd made from the last Lou Jitsu movie but eventually it became clear that he'd need to get another job. So, when he was contacted by a scientist offering him a shocking amount of money to participate in some genetic testing, he was more than happy to accept.

Little did he know, the DNA samples he provided were actually mixed with Draxum's DNA to create what would hopefully be perfect little super soldiers. After finding this out he pulled both him and his new sons out of the experiment. Eventually the experiment was shut down due to lack of subjects to work on.

Draxum, of course, was frustrated and decided that the best course of revenge for ruining his perfect experiment would be to get shared custody of the boys (a choice that totally won't backfire).

Most of this isn't too relevant to the au though as it's mostly just the boys messing around being adorable.

Thank you for asking!!

[theworldoffostering]

We had a great time at a Make A Wish event this weekend. It was at a zoo, and had a bunch of Disney and superhero characters there. They served lunch, had face painting, and a scavenger hunt. I’m not sure NB has ever been to a zoo. It was nice to have a little down time.

Baby won a bag of candy from our local library. He had to guess how many candies were in the jar, and his guess was only one number away, so he won all of the candy. We picked it up yesterday. He was thrilled!

DS had his senior pictures done last week. I cannot believe how expensive they were! We get the proofs later this week, and I know they’ll be great. The photographer is really talented. We’ve used her before, and I guess I feel like given that Ms. 6 never had senior photos taken, it was worth the splurge for DS. I’m just glad we could make it work financially.

DH had his next paper assignment due next week and he has yet to start it even though I’ve provided him several hours multiple days last week to work on it. I believe he spent most of that time sleeping while I was on kid duty. I feel like there is a serious problem happening here, but I don’t know what it is. He met with his psych last week, and I sat in on it. They are increasing his antidepressant and the psych suggested next level of care, but given that DH is not wanting to harm himself, next level of care is not available. He does however, feel deep hopelessness which creates apathy, lack of clear thinking, and zero motivation. I don’t know what my role is supposed to be as his spouse. It all feels very disconcerting. I’d love to do some reading on depression, how to help as a spouse, etc., if you have any good book recs.

We did book MGM Park in Vegas. Tell me anything I should know. We are not renting in a car and I’m writing down any and all suggestions. Mostly, I want to have an enjoyable pool experience and sleep well. I’d really like to be able to turn my brain off for a couple of days. I hope I can make that happen.

I met with my endocrin last week and she thinks I’m doing well. I have a full body scan coming up in September. If that comes back clear, I will basically be considered in remission. Yippee!

Ms. 6’s birthday is this week. I don’t know what to get her. She’s driving down to visit for a week or so and I feel like that’s too long. I know that makes me sound like a jerk; I sincerely love her and care about her, and also feel like it’s incredibly stressful to be around her right now because her life decisions stress me out. How do other parents manage this? Give me all of your tips. She’s committing to attend the college which will land her about $60k in debt if she graduates in four years when she could go to a state school, and graduate debt free. She won’t get a job for the summer. She won’t go to her mom’s house and get her things. It’s very different than how I would advise her, and it’s stresses me out, but I know that’s a me issue and not a her issue.

[likeabitchylamb]

i'm gonna ramble about my favorite characters in supernatural because it changes so much as the show goes on and each character is different in each season and with each writer. Like, Sam in the early seasons with the demon blood, his brand of daddy issues, his trying to be good but everyone including heaven is telling him he's nothing more than a demon blood-drinking vessel of Lucifer, and he'll sacrifice himself to save the world and stop the apocolapse. oh my god i think about that every five minutes. he's just a long, shaggy-haired, too-tall, and too-kind young man. he sees the best in everyone, and tries to redeem monsters when he can because if he can save them, he can save himself, right? and later on I think about the soulless sam and hallucinating lucifer and the ramifications of being in the cage for so long, and all that so often. but then... idk he has his moments from time to time, but it felt like his character finished and just needed a woman to pair off with because TV character arcs always end with characters marrying, but he didn't even properly get that? he married an off-screen woman after his actual love interest DIED!

then we get dean, who started out as the typical beer-loving cool womanizer dude who loves his family, his car, and hunting things. then he gets broken down as the show goes on into exploring his daddy issues, and it was never something i really fully loved until later on, mostly because the show was always so insistent on keeping his Cool Status at first. then he did and it was always so good. but the show always put a beer back in his hand, a gun in his pocket, and I always left the season feeling like there was more to be explored. he can yell, scream, and cry, but he was never allowed to truly grow from those experiences. he died a hunter, after explicitly showing that was the last thing he wanted.

casiel. oh my god i love castiel. he very quickly became my favorite character above sam with his lack of understanding social queues and his relationship with heaven. ohhhhhh my GOD his relationship with heaven. that scene at the bench where he's begging for clarification and a sign and for god to talk to him????? I'm sobbing. at times i felt like his character's arcs were forced, or his arc was too quick, or off-screen, but that's a by-product of the studio keeping him as a side character so misha had a max number of episodes to show up in. i really hate not seeing "starring: misha collins" because misha really is the heart of the character. just like everyone, but especially misha. he kept castiel around and brought him to life beyond what was expected and that was how it was from day fucking one of his portrayal. oh my god.

also, adam! because his bitterness and spite and hatred always felt So Real. imagine you're him, and your dad travels for his job, but comes to baseball games and he's nice and all. then he disappears and suddenly two men, kinda older than you, show up saying all sorts of crazy shit. they're your father's children from his first marriage before his wife died when they were super young -what?- and his job was hunting monsters -what the fuck?- and you're actually a dark secret in his life and they are fucking pissed cause he was such a shit dad to him -what the FUCK?- oh, and he's dead, killed by a demon -what the actual FUCK- then you get possessed by -get this- the archangel Michael and before you can even begin to properly process that angels exist and the apocolapse is happening because you're still reeling over the fact that your dad was a deadbeat to his two other children who were raised to hunt monsters and your family was like a vacation getaway for him so he can pretend to be normal instead of raising his two other children properly, but you can't think about THAT because oh my god sam took control of lucifer and dragged you and Michael, btw in the same body, down to the hell. but not normal hell, oh no, this is the cage where time is so much faster and you're there for hundreds of years and lucifer is torturing sam and it's awful and you're stuck there with Michael and wow, did he ever say goodbye to his mom (note: i forget if his mom is even alive or talked about, but i assume so) Then you get brought back, and of COURSE YOU HATE EVERYONE!!!

[alpaca-clouds]

Electric Cars Suck

There is some irony in how things turned out, right? Like eight years ago or so it was mostly the left who was like: "We need more electro mobility!" And the people on the right were like: "Noooo! We need our gas guzzlers that go VROOOOOM!" And somehow now the people on the right buy their stupid cybertrucks, while the people on the left have in large numbers converted to: "Actually, all cars fucking suck."

And hey, that's me. I am in that story. Because actually, all cars fucking suck!

But let's be a bit more serious: The main issue with cars is not even the CO2, the fine particles, or the microplastics they generate. (Yes, most microplastics in the environment originate with cars!) The main issue is, that we live in a car-centric society, that is so very much inaccessible for anyone who does not have a car.

And let's be honest here: In this regard I am complaining as someone with a lot of things going for me: I live in Germany and I live in a city here. We have actually somewhat working public transport, and even my physically disabled ass is capable of reaching the next super market, pharmacy, doctor's office and library within 5 minutes on foot. Sure, due to a lack of bus drivers (which again is due to a lack of proper payment for said bus drivers) they cut some of the bus lines here, making the time I need to get to the next hospital go up by a good chunk, but... What I am saying is: Hey, I am at least not living in the USA, where it is basically impossible to get around in a lot of places when you have no car, because the infrastructure is just so bloody car-centric.

And that is the reason why cars just suck so darn much. Because they need all that infrastructure that makes it harder for everyone to get around.

And the double issue with that is, that some people will still need cars no matter what, even if we try to improve that. I spoke about it before: Some disabled people will always need cars to get around, because they just do not have an alternative due to a variety of reasons. And some services (like ambulances, fire fighters and so on) will also just need cars. Which taken together means that we need to maintain some infrastructure.

Generally speaking I feel, a lot of folks within the Solarpunk scene do underestimate this issue, too. Especially in concern to the USA, Canada and some other colonizer cities in the global south, that have been created very much with cars in mind.

In Europe, most cities have been created with horse drawn carriages in mind and people who walk on foot. Sure, they have been retrofitted to allow for cars, but that retrofitting can easily be toned down in a way that would allow those cars that are needed to pass through, but allow the areas to be used otherwise. (I mean, we have several cities here were you can still see that the city originally has been build by Romans some 2000 years ago, because the city map features certain Roman city planning styles.) It is not really so hard to turn those cities into 15-minute-cities again.

But in the US? In the US a lot of the cities have always been constructed with the car in mind, and the entire street plan is organized around the car. Lots of wide streets. Lots of parking lots. Lots of other facilities that are needed for cars. Sure, you can reuse some of the space. But that does not negate the fact that everything has this wide sprawl that makes it a lot harder to get around. And that really is a problem if someone tried to make 15-minute-cities here. Because frankly... In some areas there just would not be another way but to just tear it all down to rethink city planning once more.

Like, sure, in the city cores it is not that much of an issue. Turning Manhatten into a 15-minute-city is not the issue. But the wider area of New York city? Eh... And in other cities it is worse, of course.

And yeah, those issues - the stupid infrastructure cars need... It is still the same, no matter whether the car goes VROOOOOOM or BZZZT.

[f1-ferraero]

Do you think that Ferrari stands a chance to win the constructors this year (and dare I hope the WDC)? Or is it not on the cards at all? I think Canada was just a combination of the wrong setup and bad luck but idk if I'm just being too optimistic lol

I definitely think that winning the constructors is a possibility! RB, Ferrari and McLaren are very very close in performance, so it's going to be a development race, but it will also be up to the drivers to maximise every session.

There are a lot of upgrades to come, but RB appears to have issues with data correlation between the sim and real life, and we haven't really seen any big improvements from their latest package. It looks like their baseline is pretty unstable and has a very narrow setup window, unfortunately for us they are very competent and can usually work around this.

Ferrari on the other hand seems to be confident in their upgrade plans. They've taken a lot of time to understand their baseline, and I think the Imola package was mostly focused on making sure it was as good, stable and predictable as possible, and now they will be bringing their performance upgrades to Barcelona and Silverstone. Of all the top teams Ferrari looks like the most stable, despite not being the fastest at the moment. I trust Fred's judgement and the changes and decisions they are making. We'll see how the new upgrades work, but I wouldn't be surprised if Ferrari turns out to be the fastest team during the second part of the season.

The RedBull is no longer a dominant car, and while Max can make up the difference, Checo can't consistently do that. There's only 49 points between them and Ferrari. Canada was a one-off, but if both Ferrari drivers continue the streak of having finished in the top 5 every race this season they're likely to eventually catch up.

McLaren is the fastest right now, but they probably won't have a chance unless something crazy happens, because despite having had the best car for the last couple of races they haven't managed to maximise the potential. Oscar is only in his second season, so while he's doing a good job all things considered he is lacking to the other top drivers. And I think all of the media hype throughout his career has put a lot higher expectations on Norris than he can live up to, which leads to him often making mistakes or not putting everything together when under pressure. Maybe if he'd had a more competitive car during the last 4-5 years, but I don't think he's ready yet for a championship battle and consistently fighting for wins.

The drivers' championship will be more difficult, but if Ferrari can get enough of an edge over RB and McLaren to consistently win and take podiums I don't think it's impossible. At this point of the season I think you can stay optimistic! But we still shouldn't get too excited. RedBull are still the favourites and after McLaren's big improvement last year I can't exclude them. Anything can happen so we'll have to wait and see how it goes :))

[sunsetcougar]

Alongside all my world building I’ve been doing for the Cannibal Angel AU I’ve also been ironing out some of the details for my Circus AU, and I’ve got the base notes for most of the main cast figured out. Ages are a pain to figure out when in canon the characters are all immortal, but I ran roughly based on how long they’ve been around in canon and what sort of dynamics I want them to have.

Lucifer, 56 - He started the circus alongside Lilith. He was full of so many big dreams and loved seeing them come to life around him. Lilith’s disappearance destroyed him, and he wishes every day for closure.

Lilith, 55 - She started the circus alongside Lucifer. While he was the dreamer she tackled the more technical bits, enjoying seeing the pieces fall into place. She’s been missing for seven years and no one knows what happened to her.

Sera, 48 - Her and Emily’s mom was sixteen when she had Sera. She was mostly raised by her grandparents but always knew she was unwanted and that they thought she ruined her mother’s life. She joined the circus to try and give Emily a life filled with the joy and love she herself was denied.

Adam, 45 - He was an accomplished trapeze artist and when Lute and Vaggie were forced out of their careers because of their injuries he left with them and followed them to the circus, refusing to abandon his best girls.

Lute, 44 - She was an accomplished trapeze artist before she was involved in a car crash, lost her arm, and gained heavy scarring across part of her left side. It causes her chronic and phantom pain and some stiffness. She joined the circus because they gave her a chance to prove herself again.

Husk, 40 - His gambling and alcohol addictions ruined his life. He was married, but his wife has since divorced him and took their son. He hates and blames himself for how his life has turned to shit. He joined the circus for lack of other options.

Alastor, 39 - He was a famous radio host but due to rumors he found himself out of business. He despises modern technology, viewing it as flashy and unnecessary. He joined the circus for his own entertainment while he rebuilds his radio career.

Angel, 36 - He's a sex trafficking victim, on the run from his abusers. He joined the circus because it’s always moving so he’ll be harder to find. He has a lot of body image issues and is constantly terrified he’ll be tracked down and dragged back to the hell he escaped.

Emily, 26 - She was the “do over” baby for her and Sera’s mom and step dad. It didn’t go well and Sera ended up getting custody of her when she was five. She’s was practically raised in the circus, barely remembering a time before it.

Charlie, 25 - She was raised in the circus, having never known anything else. She’s participated in acts since she was a kid and found herself suddenly being given the title of ringmaster when she was twenty, two years after her mom disappeared.

Vaggie, 23 - She was an accomplished trapeze artist before she was involved in a car crash and shrapnel destroyed her eye and tore up her back, causing her stiffness and chronic pain. She joined the circus because they gave her a chance to prove herself again.