#speak with them in a language they understand

[still-a-dreamer-even-now]

she wants to understand, she tried to understand, she begs them to tell her what happened to them in the country and they all look at each other having a silent conversation she will never understand and edmund makes a joke that doesn’t quite ring true about their time and she wonders once again when her younger son became a diplomat and her children became a parliament

“the war changed them” she says to anyone that knew them before “i hardly know them myself anymore”

and she says it with false laughter and haunted eyes and a heavy sense that she has missed something crucial and the people that knew them don’t quite get it, “they’re growing up” they say “war changed everyone” but helen pevensie has never seen children who eyes tell her they’ve truly, really lived entire lifetimes at 15

i helen is so terrified her kids grew up without her while still being so young like they lost their childhood it was robbed from them but in reality their childhood was rich and wonderful and lovely and lively and yes even magical and they grew up at a normal rate and then were forced to live through that growing up again in a world less beautiful and she’s afraid they missed their childhood but really truly it was she who missed it

because every time they’ve started trying to explain it to sit her down and tell her, every time she frustratedly throws down a rag while washing the dishes and begs peter to act his age in a way most kids will never hear it said (be a kid!! for goodness sake be a kid, peter!!) and he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again and shakes his head with such a noble tilt and tells her not to worry and that he’s fine and that’s he’s nearly old enough to worry about adult matters now anyhow

because how do you explain to your mother that you’re not really a child (i’ve grown so much in your absence mother) without sounding like you didn’t need her, without sounding like you’re telling a story or a joke instead of the truth (i wish i could show you our palace, our friends) and how do you tell your mother you learned swordsmanship from a mouse, or learned diplomacy from a centaur, that the trees taught you to waltz, you like your tea that way because of a dear old faun, won’t she think you’re playing? joking, teasing her relentlessly? isn’t it easier for her to think you’ve grown than for her to be so concerned that you’re still so childish? and wouldn’t it be wonderful if she would just believe you? but you know she won’t, so you sit silently at the table and hum a lullaby to yourself in a language you wish you could teach her and wonder if a lifetime apart is too long to get to know someone again

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Pets

Billy loves animals. He can’t help it. Even as Marvel, he’ll go up to dog owners and ask to pet their dogs. There are more than a couple videos of him dwarfing these little puppies and petting them.

Marvel: *turned into Shazham and chilling on the floor with Wonder-pig*

Wonder-pig: *yapping in pet language*

Marvel: *responding back in pet language*

Flash: *watching them* “Huh… When did Cap get a pig?”

GL: “I don’t know. I didn’t even know the guy owned pets- is it standing up?”

Flash and GL: *watches in slight horrification and fascination as what they though was a normal pig, stands on two legs like a human being and picks Wonder-pig up so they can go to the kitchen to eat*

By the way, Wonder-pig also refers to Billy as her brother because she thinks he’s Shazham. So, not only is he a pig, but he has Greek powers and her owner has Greek powers so they’re related which makes her and him related. If that makes sense.

Later…

Flash: “Dude, what is wrong with your pig?”

Marvel: “My pig? What’re you talking about?”

Flash: “Your pig! It looked like a pig version of you. Is it not yours…?”

Marvel: “Oooooh you mean Shazham.” *looks for a second to make sure he doesn’t get struck by lightning because it sounds like Shazam*

Flash: *also looks up, confused as to what he’s looking at* “Yeah? I think.”

Marvel: “So what’s wrong with my pig?” *looks back at him*

Flash: “Me and John saw it stand up with full human autonomy. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

Marvel: “Really? My bad. Well, he means no harm.” *pats Flash on the shoulder* “It’s best not to dwell on it.”

Flash: “I really think we should-”

Marvel: *continuing to pat Flash’s shoulder* “I’m really glad we can move on from this.”

Flash: “Yeah, I don’t want to move on from this-”

Marvel: “It wa nice talking to you!”

or

Robin!Damian: “Translate Bat-hound.” *points to the dog*

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

Robin!Damian: “You can speak all languages, yes? That includes animals, I assume?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Robin!Damian: “So translate Bat-hound.”

Marvel: “Well, what am I translating exactly?”

Robin!Damian: “Start up a conversation.”

Marvel: *stares at the dog*

Bat-hound: *in pet language* “You smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around.” (This just sounds like barks to Damian.)

Robin!Damian: “What did he say?”

Marvel: “He said I smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around. I think he’s talking about Shazham.” *looks up to the ceiling for a moment just in case he gets shazamed*

Robin!Damian: “Does that mean you have a pig?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah.” *doesn’t know how to feel about calling himself a pet*

Robin!Damian: “Tt. Neither Batman nor Agent A will let me have a pig.”

Marvel: “Do you want to meet my pig?”

Robin!Damian: “…yes.”

Marvel: “I’ll bring him over one day then! You’ll be the first who knows and gets to talk to him.”

If pretending to be a pig would make a kid happy, Billy would do it. In the end, Damian seemed happy when he came as Shazham.

Robin!Damian: “You can understand me?”

Marvel: *in Shazham form, nods head*

Robin!Damian: *little kid wonder* “Amazing. I’ll have to ask your owner to bring you around more. The Captain mentioned how Bat-hound said you hung around Wonder-pig. I wonder if you and him can both become friends.”

or

Flash: “What’s he doing?”

Marvel: *sitting on the ground and being barked at, oinked at, turtled at, fish bubbled at, and so on*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere* “He’s communicating with them.”

Flash: *gets the shit scared out of him, lets out a little yell, and ends up clenching his heart* “Why hasn’t Batman kept you on a leash? You can’t keep doing that to people. You’re going to give someone a heart attack one day!”

Robin!Damian: *mini bat-glares him for the leash comment and starts pulling out one of his swords*

[nastybuckybarnes]

Clumsy Corporals

Pairing: Ghost x Reader

Summary: Someone takes a tumble in Ghost's bathroom, leaving him to clean up the mess.

Warnings: Angst, attempted assault, language, violence, injuries, fluff, murder(?), Nudity,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: fun fact - this is the first instalment for Ghost and Mouse that I ever wrote, and everything else kinda fell into place around this which I think is beautiful

A/n2: Posting this cause I feel like I just wanna escape reality a lot now and maybe some of you do too.

~*~

"Johnny told me you didn't join 'em for dinner again," Ghost says after closing the door to his quarters.

He can hear the shower running and shakes his head, following the sound and pushing open the ajar door.

"How are they supposed to warm up to you if..." the words die on his tongue almost comically as he takes in the scene before him.

You're curled up in a ball on the bathroom counter, bloodied hands clutching a towel tightly around what appears to be your naked body.

On the ground is Corporal Jacobs, a knife through the underside of his chin and a pool of blood around his head.

His lifeless eyes are open, and your eyes are focused on his body as if waiting for him to get up, to move, to attack.

Ghost surveys the scene quickly, taking in the marks around your neck, the blood on your hairline, and the cut on your cheek.

"What happened?"

He doesn't need to ask, but he does anyway.

Your bottom lip quivers, and for a moment he's not sure if you even heard him. You don't flinch, your breathing doesn't change, and you don't lift your eyes from the corpse on the ground.

"Mouse. Eyes on me."

Your gaze finally snaps to his and you suck in a sharp breath as if realizing his presence for the first time.

He inspects your face once more, swallowing his rage when he sees the bruise blooming by your eye.

"What happened here?" He nods to the body on the ground.

You follow his gaze and he watches intently as your fists tighten and you swallow hard. Your lip quivers so fast it nearly vibrates, but you take a deep breath and eventually speak.

"He fell."

He thinks he's misheard you at first, glancing between the dead man and you.

He kneels down and grabs hold of the hilt of the knife stuck under the man's chin. A knife that Ghost distinctly remembers you taking from him a long while ago.

"He fell?" He asks, tilting the dead man's head to the side and grinding his teeth together at the claw marks on the side of his face.

You put up quite the fight. He'd be proud if he wasn't so filled with fury.

You slowly lift your eyes to his and his stone heart cracks a bit at the unshed tears he sees.

"Yes," you whisper.

He watches you for a breath longer then nods slowly, looking back down to the mess on the bathroom floor.

"Looks like he took quite the tumble, hmm? Silly prick, s'what you get for running with knives."

A weight lifts slightly off of your shoulders and you nod, wiping a tear off of your cheek with a bloody hand, leaving a mess in your wake.

"Now, did he fall before or after your shower?"

You swallow hard before answering, shaking your head as if trying to get rid of the memory of what happened.

"Before." Your voice is so quiet, quieter than usual, and he finds himself straining to hear you.

He pieces together all that he can with what's before him, and quickly comes up with a plan.

"It's late, little one. How's about you finish your shower, and-"

"No!"

He's taken aback by the force of your words, the ferocity of them. The terror in your eyes is twice as surprising.

"No shower?" He clarifies, glancing at the running water, no doubt cold by now.

You shake your head, confirming his words, and he nods his understanding.

Slowly, he stands up and turns the water off, then takes a step toward you.

"New plan. You sit right here, and I stay with you. I'll call Price and Johnny to come clean this up. How's that sound?" He asks, his eyes locked on yours.

You think about it for a long moment then slowly nod, leaning into his hand when he pushes some of your hair back.

A soft sigh leaves his lips and he leans forward, placing a soft kiss to your hairline before stepping back to send a quick generic text to the two men he trusts most.

Pipe burst in my quarters. Get here now.

It takes a minute and a half for Price to get there, two minutes for Soap.

"I'm gonna go meet them at the door, Mouse, but I won't be out of eyeshot, okay? Keep your eyes on me the whole time. That's an order."

You nod carefully, your eyes never leaving his as he takes calculated steps backward out of the bathroom to meet the other men at the door.

"What's going on, Lt?" Soap's gruff voice asks quietly.

The huge man takes a slow step back, allowing the two into his room.

Each man does a sweep of the room, their eyes finally landing on the bathroom and the bloody scene within.

"Fuckin' hell," Soap murmurs, rubbing his jaw.

"What happened?" Price asks quietly, looking at you skeptically.

Your eyes, however, are still locked onto Ghost's.

Ghost gives you a gentle nod then glances over at his teammates, his friends.

"He fell."

"What the bloody hell was he doin' in 'ere in the first place?" Soap asks, slowly walking toward the bathroom to inspect.

His eyes take you in, take in the blood on your hands, the bruising wrapping like a necklace around your neck.

"I think I have an idea," is Ghost's grunted reply.

Your eyes are on the Scot as he steps into the bathroom. Your breath hitches and you scoot back on the counter the tiniest bit.

"Easy, Mouse. Johnny's just gonna help clean up. You can trust him, remember?"

Soap looks up at you and gives you a gentle smile, his own anger rising when he sees more of the damage on your soft face.

"You've saved my arse. More than once, I imagine. S'only fair I help clean up after the poor man's fall," he says gently.

You watch him for a long while then slowly nod, sniffling then wiping your face against your arm, only to hiss at the unexpected pain.

"Why don't you let the Lieutenant get you patched up, sweetheart, hmm? Let Soap and I deal with this?" Price offers, stepping into the doorway.

You look between the three of them then nod again, watching in awe as they move like a well-oiled machine.

Soap takes a step further into the bathroom and Price steps out of it, making way for Ghost to walk in and carefully scoop you up in his arms.

He carries you from the bathroom and sits you down on his desk, turning his back for just long enough to grab a first aid kit.

Price and Soap immediately get to work in the bathroom as Ghost gets to work tending to your -visible- wounds.

He starts with your face, spraying a gentle antiseptic onto the cut on your cheek.

Your eyes stay focused on his as he works, and every now and then he meets your gaze.

The bathroom door opens but you don't look away from Ghost as Price and Soap shuffle by.

Ghost, however, takes a pause and shoots a glance over his shoulder.

"Dump 'im outside. I'll do the rest."

They don't question him.

The only thing allowing him to keep a level head right now is the promise of chopping that pathetic piece of shit's body up into a thousand unrecognizable pieces and feeding him to the stray dogs in the city.

But he needs to make sure you're taken care of, first.

"When we're done here, Johnny will get you a snack while I take care of... our friend. Okay?" Though it's posed like a question, you know he's telling you what's happening and leaving little room to argue.

The door shuts with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asks, scooting back to inspect you as much as he can.

You swallow hard and glance down, shrugging.

"I know you don't want to, but I think you should shower. I'll be right outside the door, won't let anyone in. I swear."

You look at him with wide eyes and shake your head.

"Come with me?" You finally ask, looking toward the bathroom as if it's where nightmares spawn.

For you, it is.

His brows draw together.

"You want me to sit in there with you?"

You shake your head again.

"In the water... please?"

Realization dawns on him and he's not too sure how to feel.

"You want me to shower with you?"

You nod, dainty fingers sliding over his wrist almost absentmindedly.

He doesn't have the heart to refuse you. To tell you that the shower is hardly big enough to fit him comfortably, let alone the both of you.

Instead, he just nods and helps you to your feet.

He's gentle with you, alarmingly so, as he helps you into the -now clean- bathroom, locking the door and turning the shower on.

You lean against the counter, towel held tightly around your body as he undresses swiftly.

When he's naked, he reaches a hand out to you and waits patiently for you to drop your towel, then steadies you as you step into the shower.

You barely made it this far before Corporal Jacobs-

Your thoughts are cut off by Simon stepping into the shower behind you, big warm hand holding your hip gently.

His chest presses against your back, the tiny shower even tinier now that it accommodates two.

"You okay, pretty mouse?" He asks, arms winding around your waist.

You shrug, leaning into him for a moment before slowly turning around to look up at him.

His eyes find yours, reading you, hearing the words you don't have the strength to say out loud, and then he's pressing his forehead against yours.

"You did good, little one. M'proud of you. Next time let me kill him, though. Poor bastard got off too easy, thinkin' he can go around n' touch what's mine. 'sides, don't need any blood on your pretty hands."

Your lip quivers and you tug your head away to lean it against his chest.

"Was scared," you whisper after a moment.

"Yeah, I bet."

"Of you," you add after a moment, not lifting your head even when you feel him stiffen.

"Why?" He finally asks, the fingers of his right hand trailing up and down your spine.

"Thought you... would not listen. Would think it was me."

His hand snakes up your back to grab your hair, tugging your head back gently and forcing you to look up at him.

His face is bare for your viewing pleasure, the steam the only thing between the two of you.

"Do you understand how much you mean to me? 've killed for you, love. 'n I'd do it again in a heartbeat, without question."

A silent tear slips down your cheek and is quickly lost in the humidity of the bathroom.

No more words are spoken for the rest of the shower.

He helps you gently wash your hair and your body, taking note of every scratch and bruise that wasn't there when he left you this morning.

Every new mark on your soft supple skin is another piece he's going to be cutting Jacob's body into, and he cannot wait.

But he needs to take care of his Mouse first.

When your fingers start to prune and the water is running a little cold, Simon helps you out of the shower and wraps a towel around you tightly.

He ushers you out of the bathroom, sitting you on the bed while he dries himself and tugs on some clothes.

After that, his focus is entirely on you. He dries you off gently, his eyes focused on yours the entire time, and you can't help but melt into his touch.

He helps you into one of his shirts then slides a pair of socks onto your feet.

"Do you want some water?" He asks quietly, his warm hands on your bare knees.

You shake your head, reaching forward and sliding your fingers over his thick shoulders.

"Want you. Stay."

He obeys, climbing into bed with you.

You curl up against him, nuzzling your head under his chin and taking deep comforting breaths of his scent.

He holds you against him until you fall asleep, moving only when his phone vibrates from its spot on the ground beside the bed.

Reaching for it slowly, careful not to move you too much, he scoops it up off the ground and reads the message quickly.

He sets his phone down and gingerly rolls you out of his arms, tucking you in tightly and then silently getting dressed.

He shoots you one last look once he's all dressed and ready, then slips out the door, shutting it tightly behind himself.

Soap stands outside the door, silently nodding to his Lieutenant, then turning his back to the door - keeping guard.

No words are spoken as the skull-faced man heads out to the coordinates on his phone. No questions are asked when he returns hours later with his sweater and gloves discarded and the faint smell of fire in his hair.

And when you wake up and start asking questions, he's sure to kiss them away and reassure you that you're safe. That Corporal Jacobs will never lift a finger to harm you again.

How can he? All ten are chopped off and sprinkled in different parts of the city.

Let that be a lesson to the next idiot who tries to harm his sweet little Mouse.

[soupbrothel]

To add to this: an advanced healthcare directive allows you to dictate your medical power of attorney as well as provide you the opportunity to state your healthcare wishes in writing, should you ever be incapacitated and unable to speak for yourself.

Your power of attorney does not need to be a spouse either, if you have anyone you would like as the first point of contact for formal medical decisions in the event of an emergency, I encourage you to establish them as your POA. ESPECIALLY if your next of kin are not people you would like in charge of your medical decisions.

In the state of California, an Advanced Healthcare Directive needs to be either notarized or signed by two witnesses (that are not healthcare officials). Check your states requirements at the link below.

Here is my favorite online resource that breaks down what an advanced directive is into easier to understand chunks, provides explanations for medical terminology, and has each state’s forms translated into multiple languages:

(Prepare for your care is the org name - in case the link doesn’t work)

Before January 2025:

If you are a USAmerican in a relationship that might be affected by legislation that dissolves same-sex marriages, who may no longer be recognized as next-of-kin, especially if you have children, get your rights in writing!

Your marriage certificate may not be enough to prove you have rights to make medical decisions for non-biological children or for a same-sex spouse or partner.

Go to a lawyer, get it spelled out as clearly as possible that you have a voice in emergency medical and legal situations.

[blindmagdalena]

just because antony starr posts so much about his dogs ... how would homelander feel if vought gave him a dog to raise? you know, to bump up his numbers or something so he couldn't get out of it haha

i'm firmly of the opinion that Homelander doesn't like animals, and animals generally don't like him. he's the kind of guy who poses with horses and gets bit. cats hiss at him. dogs tuck their tails and give him whale-eye.

the thing is he was never raised with animals. he doesn't speak their language any better than he speaks our social language. they stink, they shed, they're lesser. pets are just another thing in this world that he was denied, and instead of letting that be one of many heartaches, he chooses disdain. he can't be hurt by it if he never lets himself want it in the first place.

it's precisely because of this that i really enjoy the idea of a dog being foisted onto him. especially one that inexplicably does like him. an excitable young golden retriever that was born and raised under fluorescent lights, destined for doom in a lab, but some genetic or behavioral incompatibility with the project caused it to be rejected.

he'd be extremely put out. there's something infuriating about the way it wags its tail whenever he so much as looks at it. he wants nothing to do with it, and yet it still follows him absolutely everywhere he goes. it barks and whines when he shuts it out of rooms he's in. it drives him crazy that the thing just won't take the hint.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" he says, practically seething. not even he's completely sure why.

he fucking hates the way it begs. those big dumb eyes not understanding his rejection. how it reflexively performs little tricks over and over and over for any scrap of approval, no matter how many times he tells it to go away. hell, it even starts to get excited about that because at least he's paying attention to it, and god, that's all it wants.

"Would you shut up!"

it's just too much. the whining, the hair, the constant demand. it overstimulates him.

deep down, what he hates is how much of himself he sees when he looks at it. the desperate pleading part of him that barks and sits and fetches when told to. the part of him that always obeys. that always wants to obey.

"What is it gonna take for you to get it? I don't want you!"

Nobody wants you. You're not like them.

he never hurts it. never lashes out physically. he's been told what to do with it and for better or worse, he's going to do it. albeit the most bare minimum.

but then he comes home one day and there's no scratch of paws skittering over wood floors. there's no wagging tail, no excited yelps. his gut churns and for a second he thinks the thing must be dead. instead he finds the pup curled up in its bed by the window, staring vacantly out at the skyline.

maybe there's something worse than seeing what you hate about yourself in something else. maybe it's becoming just like the people who made you the way you are.

after weeks of rejecting the thing, he has the audacity to be hurt that it's given up on him.

who gave it that right? why is this stupid little animal allowed to give up when after years and years and years, Homelander is still Vought's show pony?

"Hey!" he snaps, all anger and hurt and rejection.

the dogs ears pin. it looks at him. and there's just... nothing there. no hope, no expectation. who knew a dog could look depressed? he finally got his point across.

and he hates everything about it.

so he kneels down next to the dog bed, jaw tight. he stares for a long while before he just... gives the dog a pat. he's bad at it, his touch stilted and awkward through the glove, but he sits and he pets the damn dog.

eventually, that little tail thumps lightly against the bed, and he feels something tight in his chest loosen slightly.

"Good boy," he says quietly, a little surprised by how easily the words come to him.

he's always thought of praise and affection as something difficult. something hard won. his life doesn't make sense if it isn't.

the dejection doesn't go away instantly. it's a slow thing, like a wilted flower coming back after too many days without water.

but one day he comes home to the skitter of paws and a flurry of fur, and for the first time, it makes him smile.

[revelboo]

A Lifeless Ordinary

IDW Scavengers x Reader

• “Found a thing.” Well, that’s not concerning at all, especially with the amount of screeching coming from whatever it is dangling from Spinister’s servos. Lifting his head, Krok vents because what even is that thing? “It’s loud,” Spinister adds in a tone that makes it hard to tell what if anything the big mech thinks about that, lifting it higher as it kicks tiny legs. Some kind of organic unlike anything he’s ever seen before and loud really is an understatement. Pity making him sit up straighter, because whatever it was to begin with, the poor thing’s life expectancy just dropped significantly in Spinister’s less than capable servos.

• Everything hurts, sliding into a confused nightmare that just won’t end. The facts just keep slipping through your fingers. You’d been at work, pain sudden and sharp, a feeling of being pulled apart. And then waking up on giant, metal monster world. Trying to run from a giant abomination, getting caught and then screaming yourself hoarse in its bruising grip. Struggling because you can barely breathe as you’re held up like the monster that caught you is showing you off to his giant buddies. There’s five of them? Six? It’s hard to tell when he’s swinging you around. You think they’re speaking, but none of it makes any sense, strange alien gibberish that terrifies you even more, because you can’t even reason with them. If you can’t understand them, they probably can’t understand you.

• “What is that noise?” Misfire asks and Krok swallows back a groan, because getting the thing away from Spinister likely just went from being difficult, to impossible as the rest of the Scavengers gather around, drawn by the sound. “This,” Spinister proudly lifts the little organic higher and its screaming breaks off into frantic sounds as Krok just shakes his head. “Thought about stepping on it,” Spinister adds.

• Maybe big and scary will drop you if you hurl on him, because if he keeps swinging you around to keep the other one from grabbing you, it’s happening. You’ll probably break your neck from the fall, but that might be marginally better than getting pulled in two by them fighting over you like a shiny, new toy. The rest are just watching, talking to each in that weird, alien language. Maybe taking bets on how long you’ll survive. Or on who gets to murder you. Sobbing, you struggle against the huge hand gripping you.

• “Let it go,” Krok tries as Misfire reaches for it to make Spinister growl a warning. And he knows Spinister well enough to know that if Misfire wants it, the other’s going to double down on keeping it. Shooting the tiny organic a pitying look, he gives up. It’s not like it has that long a life expectancy out here in this wasteland to begin with, but between Misfire and Spinister? It’s not going to last a rotation, but he tried. The little thing is still jabbering nonsense and struggling, nearly getting dropped and then caught again with a shriek. Oh, it’s definitely not going to survive and it’s not his problem. At all. Even telling himself that, he can’t help but watch it finally slump against Spinster’s servos, big eyes darting around at them as if looking for help. Meeting his optics with uncanny intelligence as its wide eyes start leaking. Frag him.

[rosethyme]

Some excerpts from the article:

1. Trust yourself Trust-building starts with your own self. It includes trusting your own eyes and gut, as well as building protection from the ways the crazy-making can become internalized. 

This also means being trustworthy — not just with information, but with emotions. That way you can acknowledge what you know and admit the parts that are uncertain fears nagging at you. 

2. Find others who you trust Hannah Arendt’s “The Origins of Totalitarianism”explored how destructive ideologies like fascism and autocracy grow. She used the word verlassenheit — often translated as loneliness — as a central ingredient. As she meant it, loneliness isn’t a feeling but a kind of social isolation of the mind. We have to consciously break that distance. In Chile they organized under the guise of affinity groups. This was, as its name suggests, people who shared some connections and trust. Finding just a few people who you trust to regularly act with and touch base with is central.

I’ve written an agenda for such gatherings right after a Trump win that you can use.

All of us will benefit from actively organized nodes to help stabilize us. In a destabilized society, you need people who help ground you.

3. Grieve

No matter what we try to do, there’s going to be a lot of loss. The human thing to do is grieve. (Well, apparently humans are also very good at compartmentalizing, rationalizing, intellectualizing and ignoring — but the damage it does to our body and psyche is pretty well documented.)

If you aren’t a feelings person, let me say it this way: The inability to grieve is a strategic error.

4. Release that which you cannot change

An elder once saw me trying to do everything and pulled me aside. “That’s not a healthy lifelong strategy,” she said. Over the last few months I’ve been testing out a terribly challenging tool. It’s a journaling exercise that invites you to reflect on which issues you’ll spend energy on. It asks: what are issues you’ll throw down on, do a lot for, a little for, or — despite caring about it — do nothing at all for? That last question can feel like a kind of torture for many activists, even while we’re intellectually aware that we cannot stop it all.

5. Find your path

One pathway is called “Protecting People.” These are folks surviving and protecting our own — especially those of us directly targeted, such as trans people, folks choosing abortions and immigrants. Another pathway is “Defending Civic Institutions.” This group may or may not be conscious that current institutions don’t serve us all, but they are united in understanding that Trump wants them to crumble so he can exert greater control over our lives. Each bureaucracy will put up its own fight to defend itself.

Then there’s a critical third pathway: “Disrupt and Disobey.”This goes beyond protesting for better policies and into the territory of people intervening to stop bad policies or showing resistance.

Lastly, there’s a key fourth role: “Building Alternatives.”We can’t just be stuck reacting and stopping the bad. We have to have a vision. This is the slow growth work of building alternative ways that are more democratic.

6. Do not obey in advance, do not self-censor

I’m not coaching to never self-protect. You can decide when to speak your mind. But it is a phenomenally slippery slope here we have to observe and combat. 

Timothy Snyder has written a helpful book called “On Tyranny” — and turned it into a video series. He cites ceding power as the first problem to tackle, writing: “Most of the power of authoritarianism is freely given. In times like these, individuals think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked. A citizen who adapts in this way is teaching power what it can do.”

7. Reorient your political map

The bellicose, blasphemous language of Trump will meet the practical reality of governing. When you’re out of power, it’s easy to unify — but their coalition’s cracks will quickly emerge. We have to stay sharp for opportunities to cleave off support.

How we position ourselves matters: Are we interested in engaging with people unhappy with the regime — whether because they love the current institutions or are unhappy with Trump’s policies on them? Are we able to tell a story that explains how we got here — and do political education? Or are we only interested in maintaining ideological purity and preaching to our own choir?

8. Get real about power

It will be helpful to have a power analysis in our minds, specifically that’s known as the upside-down triangle. This tool was built to explain how power moves even under dictatorships. 

The upside down triangle. (What If Trump Wins/Elizabeth Beier)

The central tenet is that like an upside-down triangle, power can be unstable. It naturally topples over without anything supporting it. To prevent that, power relies on pillars of support to keep it upright.

Removing one pillar of support can often gain major, life-saving concessions. In response to Trump’s 2019 government shutdown, flight attendants prepared a national strike. Such a strike would ground planes across the country and a key transportation network. Within hours of announcing they were “mobilizing immediately” for a strike, Trump capitulated.

9. Handle fear, make violence rebound

Handling fear isn’t about suppressing it — but it is about constantly redirecting. One activist described to me two motions in the universe: shrinking or expansion. When Donald Trump directs the Justice Department to use sedition charges against protesters or arrest his political enemies like Jamie Raskin or Liz Cheney, what’s our response?

Activist/intellectual Hardy Merriman released a studied response about political violence that had some news that surprised me. The first was that physical political violence hasn’t grown dramatically in this country — it still remains relatively rare. The threats of violence, however, trend upwards, such as this CNN report: “Politically motivated threats to public officials increased 178 percent during Trump’s presidency,” primarily from the right.

His conclusion wasn’t that political violence isn’t going to grow. Quite the opposite. But he noted that a key component to political violence is to intimidate and tell a story that they are the true victims. Making political violence rebound requires refusing to be intimidated and resisting those threats so they can backfire. (Training on this backfire technique is available from the HOPE-PV guide.)

10. Envision a positive future

I don’t feel certain, and I’m not predicting we win. But we’ve all now imagined storylines about how bad it might get. We would do ourselves a service to spend an equal measure of time envisioning how we might advance our cause in these conditions. As writer Walidah Imarisha says, “The goal of visionary fiction is to change the world.”

Spend some time envisioning how we might advance our cause. (What If Trump Wins/Elizabeth Beier)

Grieve AND organize.

Good article by David Hunter on how to survive the Trump presidency, both on the personal and on the political plane.

[fireboltposts]

When SKZ finds your well-organized Korean notes

A/N : This idea randomly popped up in my head when I was learning my Spanish. Picture credit to the owner. Also this is the first time I've tried writing for all the members together.

• Where each member suddenly stumbles upon your neat and well-organized notes for learning Korean. They knew you were studying but didn't realise you went so far as to maintaining an old diary of 2013 for writing down random notes, swear words, grammar rules, slangs, idioms, vocabulary, tests where you had graded yourself with a red pen with marks like 16/20 or 19/25 and your signature like a school teacher and even some phrases learnt from the boys.

• Chris

He found your Korean diary on a random Tuesday evening while he was searching for his laptop charger. He wondered what on earth were you doing with a 2013 diary when he had gifted you the latest one on New Year's Day. Not one to read someone's diary, but his interest was piqued because of a SKZ bookmark hanging out of the diary. He opens it curiously, flipping through the pages that contained grammar rules, self-graded tests with your signature (which he can't help but giggle at), and even an entire section labelled "what Channie taught me", containing phrases and words he had previously taught you, that he himself had forgotten, which little notes on the side in pencil on how to pronounce stating that "Channie says it like this". He smiles to himself, feeling a surge of warmth as he realizes you're working so hard to understand and connect with him and the group on a deeper level. He chuckles at the part where you had stated that he says a word in a certain tone and he's a little surprised to see how observant you were to how he spoke Korean that you had noticed such little things even he didn't know. He is moved by your dedication and effort. It meant so much to him that you wanted to understand him better and also the rest of the boys.

• Minho

Minho's looking around your room when his eyes fall on a notebook open on your bed, with pages full of neat handwriting. Intrigued, he walks over and begins to look through them, noting how well-organized and thoughtful each section is. The color-coding in different color ink, the little drawings, and the way you’ve broken down each concept and it’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into learning. He spots a few phrases he's used like "Don't be silly" written in Hangul. He feels a strange pride in knowing that you had gone through so much trouble of noting down things he has said and how observant you were to the other members' words and he feels a soft warmth on his chest. When you notice him looking, he gives you an approving nod. "Your notes are impressive," he says, with a faint smile. "You’re serious about learning, huh? I respect that." He’s not overly sentimental, but there’s a hint of admiration in his tone. "Just make sure you don’t learn any bad habits from the guys. I'll teach you the proper way to speak," he adds with a teasing glint in his eyes and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips.

• Changbin

Changbin flips your notes open curiously and starts reading. The first thing he notices is how neatly you've written grammar concepts and phrases with example sentences using names from the K industry like "Changbin ate an apple", "Joshua cannot swim", "Jaejoong, go to the market !". As he goes through, he can’t help but feel a sense of admiration for your dedication. You’ve put in so much work, and it’s clear that you’re genuinely interested in understanding the language. He chuckles when he sees a section labeled "Cute Phrases learnt from Binnie," where you’ve written down a few things he’s said, noting them with little hearts and stars. When you return, he grins at you, holding up the notebook. "These are really impressive," he says, giving you an encouraging smile. "You’ve put in a lot of effort. If you keep it up, you’ll be fluent in no time!". There’s a hint of pride in his voice as he looks at you, feeling touched that you care so much about connecting with him and the rest of the group in their language.

• Hyunjin

Hyunjin finds your notes when you’re both sitting on the couch. He’s flipping through some things on the table when he spots them, open to a section on descriptive words. At first, he’s just curious, but as he goes through them, he realizes how detailed your notes are. You’ve even added pronunciation tips in English and marked down specific tones you’d heard him use, adding little side notes in pencil like, "Try to sound softer, like Hyunjin." Seeing his own influence in your notes makes his heart race. He’s touched to know you’re paying so much attention to the language, even noting his speaking style. There’s something endearing about how you’re working so hard to speak Korean well, not just to understand him but to match his expressions too. "Wow, you’re really serious about this, huh?" he murmurs, glancing over at you with a soft smile. He leans in closer, resting his chin on his hand as he flips through more pages, admiring your hard work. "If you ever want a study buddy, I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could teach you some new words too… you know, personal ones that only we would know or swear words, whichever you want", he winks, enjoying the thought of having something special shared between the two of you.

• Han

Han stumbles upon your notes one day while you’re hanging out. He flips through them casually, but the more he reads, the more impressed he becomes. Your notes are detailed, organized, and incredibly thorough. You’ve written down vocabulary, grammar rules, and even broken down complex sentences into parts. He’s particularly amused when he sees a section labeled "Funny Phrases" with things he’s said, complete with little notes like, "Han said this when he was being silly." He feels a warmth in his chest, touched that you’ve been paying attention to his quirks and speech patterns. When he looks up at you, there’s a playful glint in his eye. "I didn’t know you were working this hard!" he exclaims. "Your notes are so good; I think I’d actually want to borrow them myself!". Han’s admiration is genuine, and he’s a little flustered by how much he enjoys seeing your dedication. "Anytime you want to practice with me, let me know," he offers, giving you a shy smile. "We could make it fun, you know, with little games and stuff and next time I'll take a test and put my signature on there and an A+ and a smiley if you get it all correct", he said with a wink.

• Felix

When Felix flips through the pages and finds your neat handwriting in Hangul , he's charmed by how much dedication you've put into it, especially when he saw you noted expressions and idioms he used labelled as "Sunshine Lixie's expressions", complete with little stars. His heart flutters at the sight. "Your notes are amazing!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "It’s so cool that you’re learning, and it’s adorable how you even have a section just for my phrases." He pats your shoulder proudly, feeling touched and a bit shy. "I could help you practice anytime you want," he adds, his voice softening, secretly hoping to spend more time with you.

• Seungmin

Seungmin finds your notes by accident when he’s helping you clean up after a study session. He notices them lying open on the table and can’t resist taking a look. As he reads through the pages, he’s impressed by your organization and the level of detail. You’ve made vocabulary lists, highlighted grammar points, and even written down little notes to help you remember certain words. He brings it up later, saying, "Your notes are really impressive. You’re actually doing a great job, and if you keep at it, I think you’ll become fluent in no time." He looks at you thoughtfully, adding, "If you ever need help with pronunciation or understanding something or maybe adding some more to the "Seungmin's Tips" list, I’d be happy to help."

• Jeongin

When the maknae finds your neat diary that you've kept for learning Korean, he is a little surprised but also very impressed at you progress as the self graded "test scores" went higher and as he also remembers some difficult words meant for upper Intermediate learners you'd used a week ago while talking to him. He chuckles when he sees his own "Innie’s Words" section, where you’ve noted down phrases he’s said. Later, he brings it up with a smile, saying, "Your notes are really detailed. It’s so cool that you’re putting in so much effort to learn our language." There’s a sense of pride in his voice as he looks at you, genuinely impressed by your dedication. "If you ever need help, I’m here. I could even teach you some more slang, if you’re up for it Y/N ! And next time, I hope to see you score full marks on your little self tests".

A/N : Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you liked it. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[andriel-islife]

Welcome to my TedTalk of my favorite aftg recurring event: people reacting to Neil’s languages.

First the monsters reacting to Neil’s French

“He wished he could take some satisfaction in the shell-shocked looks the language and his furious tone earned…It was an age before anyone responded. Nicky was too busy gaping at Neil to say anything, and Aaron was staring at Kevin as he waited for a translation. Andrew’s surprise gave way to what a fool might mistake for delight and he leaned forward on the desk. “Wow another one of Neil’s many talents. How many can one man have?””

This scene is funny because unproblematic and ordinary Neil Josten just busts into their dorm room with no explanation and starts speaking in angry French. (And Andrew’s “you’re interesting to me” without actually saying so.)

Andrew and Wymack discovering Neil’s German. (Only Andrew reacts but it’s important to remember Wymack heard the German as well(for later))

“That wiped the irritation off Andrew’s face. It was forever before Andrew answered in German. “That’s unexpected. Did no one tell you I hate surprises?”…”how many languages do you speak, runaway?””

We love seeing through Andrews medication to his true feelings(surprise). And then this being followed by a civil conversation of Neil’s true past and Andrew’s reactions. Is this really the love hate(mostly hate)TFC andriel dynamic we loved for half a book.

The upperclassmen+Wymack finding out about Neil’s French (only Wymack's response but, again, important to know the upper classmen hear his French.)

He didn’t realize what he’d done wrong until he felt Wymack’s piercing stare. Andrew’s lot new Neil spoke French…But Wymack, like Andrew, had also heard Neil speak fluent German. Neil ground his teeth and refused to return Wymack’s look.”

Wymack hadn’t reacted to the German because of the situation but he probably also didn’t feel the need to respond to yet another one of his kids having a second language. But apparently bilingual is where he draws the line for languages. Neil “multilingual” Josten had Wymack questioning who he really was and why his second and third languages happened to be those already present in his team.

Upperclassmen, Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin finding out about Neil’s German (thanks to Andrew being Andrew)

““Oh shit,” Nicky said, switching languages in a heartbeat. “Since when do you speak German? Andrew, you knew about this? Why didn’t you tell us?”…Aaron looked at Neil. “When were you going to tell us?”…Down the hall the upperclassmen stared at them in disbelief. Matt was the first to get his tongue back, but the best he came up with was, “I thought you spoke French. That was French this morning right?…”

Aaron being the king of not caring about things concerning Neil.

Last but not least(if I remember correctly) Jean reacting to Neil’s French.

“Jean wasn’t expecting him to understand them and shot Neil a startled look.”

This startling Jean was funny. How can one be anymore scared when sitting next to Riko Moriyama. And Neil letting his attitude get the best of him in not only English but also French. He was on a roll and he wasn’t going to let a language switch stop him.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

you seem nice and are being polite so i am going to attempt to return the same energy: there is just no universe in which i think it is the case that the language i used, talking explicitly about myself, on my blog, qualifies as harm that i need to be morally responsible for because someone else saw it and made a series of unwarranted assumptions about me. none whatsoever. this is a principle that i hold deeply, and one i extend to you as well and to anyone reading this and to the person i blocked: everyone on earth is allowed to talk about themselves however they see fit in their own spaces. i believe we all deserve that. i believe in being mindful to some degree when we are speaking in the semi-public space that is a personal blog on the internet, and i am in fact generally quite deliberate about using first-person language, as i did in that post, partly because i know that sloppy generalizations can cause people to take posts personally in ways that can be pretty painful, and although frankly i also think many people could stand to get better at keeping it chill when a 3-line post from someone they don’t know who was probably not expecting it to go viral doesn’t encompass their personal situation, i do generally strive to avoid posting in a manner that might cause such friction. but that’s not what this was. i said “here’s what i’m doing,” and someone said, in effect, “fuck you for telling me what to do.” i simply cannot be held responsible in any way for someone wildly distorting the reality of what i said, and i am under no obligation to make any kind of space for someone whose only interaction with me literally ever is to be rude, obnoxious, and annoying directly at me. because that’s what happened here, to be clear: yelling at me about something i quite literally did not say while seeming to make a million unwarranted assumptions about me (a stranger) is a rude thing to do. it is bad behavior in no way justified by the trauma of seeing a personal post about how a stranger on the internet is thinking about the election. absolutely no one is obligated to put up with that shit. if someone wants to take the high road on the matter, that’s very nice. but that’s a favor. it’s not a requirement. if you’re going to be a dick at people - literally at me, like, if they had screenshotted my post to yell at me on their own blog not in a million years would i have responded even if somehow i found out because they would not be doing it literally to my virtual face - you have forfeited the right to expect anyone to respond to you without matching your energy.

it is so, so, so obnoxious to see a stranger talking about themselves and decide it’s appropriate behavior to get in their face and yell at them that they’re doing emotions wrong. i don’t see this as an understandable overreaction after the thousandth paper cut. i just don’t. i see it as someone behaving without any consideration for the fact that other people have interiority. and i don’t think there’s ever a situation in which we are required to greet that particular form of myopic entitlement with gentleness. there are times where that kind of thing may be at some point met with forgiveness, for, like, a person in my actual life and community, although i’d like to state for the record that my friends are almost exclusively people carrying a fuckload of shit and literally not one of them has ever engaged in this kind of behavior, because it’s actually really easy to not be an asshole on the internet. but i just can’t get behind the idea that any of us owe shit to someone whose literal only interaction with us is ever was making up a guy in their head to get mad at and being a dick to us. i don’t believe it is prosocial or good for everyone to endorse the norm that if someone takes the time to behave badly towards you, a stranger whom they don’t know from adam, the only correct thing to do is shrug it off or accept that actually it’s reasonable of them to have gotten mad at you for something you didn’t do. i believe that thinking that way does nobody any favors. i think it’s bad for everyone.

my other grounding technique is remembering that the earliest abolitionists & the earliest suffragists had no proof that the world would ever make possible what they fought for and indeed many of them did not live to see it come to pass. and yet they did not succumb to despair so it would be disrespectful to their memory to let it overtake me

[animentality]

when Shidou's favorite song says, "I didn't hurt you out of hate, but I have no wings, and the sky is too high."

when Shidou himself said that whether it's through making connections or leaving behind wounds, people need to be remembered, they need to leave their legacy on this world and proof of their existence upon other people.

when he attacks people and hurts them, but never with any particular malice for them as people, when he compliments people he admires, when he is filled with as much love as he is hatred, and violence is the only language he understands, and speaks.

when he doesn't mind being hated or being hurt, because that's the only way he can connect with people...

except.

for Itoshi Sae.

the first person I think he's ever fucking met who reached out to him first, unafraid of being bitten, and promised to set him free, rather than cage him.

and said I'm choosing you. I want you.

when Shidou never tries to hurt Sae, because the connection was already made, and when Shidou says I love playing with you. Give me your number.

Let's live together, please.

when Shidou finally learned how to make a connection without hurting that person first.

[foodtruckery]

y’all i’m thinking about stan’s hearing aid and i have FEELINGS.

yeah, yeah, yeah, i know it shows up exactly once and is pretty clearly written off simply as “old man has hearing aid” because that isn’t unusual at all at stan’s age. and sure, if we consider that filbrick, caryn, and ford are never shown with any hearing devices, we can assume this isn’t hereditary hearing loss.

BUT WHAT IF IT WAS. stan is only 17 when he gets kicked out, and we don’t have canonical ages for filbrick and caryn. so it’s very possible that if hearing loss does run in one of their families, it may not be showing up noticeably yet, or it might not be obvious enough that’s what’s happening. it's really easy to just think "ma is loud" or "pa doesn't pay attention" and that's that.

so i’m thinking about a stan who doesn’t know he’s at risk of losing his hearing early. stan who has so much more to worry about than something like that and who probably wouldn’t even notice it was happening until it got bad enough. stan who gets really fucking good at reading body language and facial expressions so he can grin and saying the right thing at the right time or redirect a conversation where he wants it to go because he can’t admit that he has no idea what the fuck someone said to him. stan who’s so goddamn loud all the time, and sure that’s partially his personality, but that’s also what happens when your hearing starts to go — you get loud and you don’t even realize you are until people start pointing it out.

stan who already has to look over his shoulder all the time being woken up in the middle of the night by a sound like a foghorn that makes him think oh, fuck, rico’s goons found me, they’re outside, i’m fucked, i’m fucked. only to slowly realize….the foghorn isn’t outside, it’s not some guy’s truck. in his head. it’s a horrible sort of tinnitus he didn’t know could sound like that. and it scares the shit out of him every time it happens, cause it’ll keep happening, completely at random, for years.

stan who i refuse to believe has insurance, and even if he did, do you have any idea how expensive hearing aids are??? this motherfucker won’t go and get his vision rx updated, and that’s not difficult insurance to come by, generally speaking. meanwhile, hearing aids aren’t even covered by a lot of plans, and these bastards cost several thousand dollars each. so where the fuck did he get his hearing aid?? is it even programmed for his hearing loss???? and if by some miracle it was, originally, when the hell was the last time he had a test done to get the settings adjusted?? we only see him wearing one — does he only NEED one or is that all he could afford??

when i think of stan and ford out at sea together i always think about stan’s fucking hearing aid. you can’t get that fucker wet, they aren’t waterproof! if he has a battery operated model, how many batteries did he bring with them?? you’d be appalled how often you have to change out a hearing aid battery, and that’s assuming you actually take it out and open the battery door every night — would stan??? or would he try and sleep with the thing in more often than not because even after all these years he can’t stand the idea of not hearing someone coming to hurt him while he’s got it out.

did you know that hearing loss can fuck with your brain if you were a hearing person? if you go too long without being able to make out/understand sounds like speech, your brain can eventually stop trying to parse it. that can increase your risk of things like iterations of dementia. do y'all ever think about how stan’s hearing loss might exacerbate the effects of the memory gun??????

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

A Letter From An Ex-Conservative To Her Parents On November 6th, 2024

Mom and Dad,

     When Trump got shot this summer, I remember you saying that this was all because the Left wouldn’t stop calling him Hitler. How we needed to “turn down the temperature” and stop “inciting violence.” I don’t think you understand that when people compare Trump to Hitler, it is not, in fact, just because they do not like him, but because he uses Hitlerian rhetoric on a regular basis. Obsessing over an imagined past version of a country that never truly existed. Saying that (insert frequently dehumanized other) is “poisoning the blood of the nation.” Before Hitler began the Final Solution against Jews, what did he say he planned to do? Deport them, until he realized it was too costly. I don’t think you understand that Hitler did not start putting people in death camps the second he came to power. Trump is currently in about the same position Hitler was in in the 1930s. Is it going to take him putting undocumented people in gas chambers for you to believe me? 

     You might think that I’ve only come to my current conclusions about Trump because of the lies of “the mainstream media”, which, as I’ve said numerous times, I don’t even watch. But it’s actually been largely due to the things Trump himself has said. I understand that you don’t like Biden calling Trump’s voters “garbage”, but the language Trump uses to describe his political opponents is at least as disturbing. He’s disparaged fallen soldiers as “suckers and losers.” He’s proudly boasted about being the president who got Roe V Wade appealed, regardless of the estimated thousands of women who are dying because the medical treatments they need fall too close to the legal definition of abortion. A massive portion of his campaign advertisements are explicitly anti-trans. He thinks Palestinians should be moved off their land because it would make “great beachfront property.” He regularly speaks positively of and rubs elbows with the most disturbing members of the alt-right, such as Laura Loomer and Nick Fuentes. He’s a bully. (you voted for a bully. Remember when I was bullied?) And if Kamala’s plans are incoherent, which admittedly some of them are, Trump’s are even more so. He doesn't have a plan. America is just another failed business to him. 

     I don’t think you’re bad people. But I do think your party is bad. This is far more than just one guy. My journey has been less one of changing any of my beliefs than realizing that the Republican Party never represented those beliefs to begin with. It is the party of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, of stripping the oppressed of their means to succeed and then asking them to “pull themselves up by the bootstraps.” Your precious Reagan was a racist. There’s recorded evidence. His policies were racist. He enabled denial and misinformation about AIDS until it was too little too late and millions had died. And you proudly display his book on your shelf, right next to Rush Limbaugh and Pat fucking Buchanan. Your son is a gay man. How could you. 

     Being a conservative, whether you think so or not, is inherently about preserving the status quo, about making sure things stay the way they are, that the people who are down stay down, and crushing anyone who tries to make things better. I didn’t vote Democrat because I am one. I voted Democrat because it would be easier under one such administration to push this country in the direction of equity and liberty. Project 2025 was intended for the next conservative administration. Trump may deny involvement, but the foreword of one of the sections was written by none other than his own vice president. And with the House, Senate and Supreme Court all red now, it’s going to be easier than ever for him to pass any portions of it he likes. 

     I’m writing you this letter so that you know that if a nationwide abortion ban gets put in place, if schools and parents who support their children’s gender affirming care (which does NOT mean surgery) start getting investigated (which some already are), if Israel continues bombing Gaza until there’s nothing left, if billionaires continue to take up larger and larger percentages of the nation’s wealth, if immigrants who’ve lived and worked in this country for years start getting deported in droves because they couldn’t get the right paperwork, that it’s on you and people like you, even as you continue deny the very real damage done in Trump’s first presidency, the awful, awful people who felt empowered because of him. I tried for a while this summer to see if I could change your minds, but all it did was screw up my mental health and make me realize something truly painful: that you aren’t the people I thought you were. Not when your reaction to police shooting students the same age as your own daughter with rubber bullets because they don’t want their university to be complicit in a genocide is “well, what are they supposed to do? They’re the police.” Not when a man can say immigrants are poisoning the blood of the nation and you still vote for him. 

     It breaks my heart that you and so many people I love have been so deeply conditioned to vote against their own best interests, to think that a government that actually helps its people without actively harming others is a childish, fanciful expectation. I think I truly believed to the depths of my soul until last night that this wouldn’t happen. That we were better than this. That we wouldn’t reelect someone who objectively ran a terrible campaign, who conducts himself with boorishness and indignity, who genuinely, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, represents everything that made me scream "Fuck America" out Laura’s car window this summer. But why should I be surprised America likes fascists? My own parents certainly seem to.

     But I hope you’re happy with your lower grocery prices, I guess. Which we probably won’t be getting anyway, because that’s not actually what Trump’s policies are going to do. 

     You sold out my friends, and entire marginalized communities, for cheaper groceries. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for that.

Lauren

[colebabey888]

Study Tips | THE IT GIRL DIARIES

As the academic year begins to wrap up, things can get stressful with extra workload and faster lessons. I've definitely been a victim of this but unfortunately, I can't afford to slack off if I want that degree, so I began implementing a few tips and tricks into my study method that has helped me a lot.

Summarize and Recite Notes

If you’re good at remembering things like speech notes, try “paragraph summarizing” Those who did orals in pre school, high-school and were good at it, will know exactly what I'm talking about. I take a week’s material and shrink it down to a few key paragraphs with main ideas and keywords. Then, read these notes out loud as if you’re practicing for a presentation. This helps me remember faster. On occasion I make q-cards for harder or more learning material but very rarely.

Use AI !

When I come across hard words or ideas, I use AI tools like ChatGPT or Google. Copy your tricky material, paste it into the tool, and ask it to “explain like I’m five” AI turns it into simple, easy language, making it much easier to understand and remember. This can be so helpful when it comes to work that requires having a good understanding of the topic to actually excel in it. Think of AI as your study buddy that already knows everything. For those who struggle to speak up in class or ask for help, AI is the solution. You can ask the dumbest questions ever and not be judged lmao. Progressive learning 101.

My 3 Step Muscle Memorization

Step 1 : Type out a summary of your notes on your laptop or computer, whatever digital device you choose, I prefer a laptop.

Step 2 : Copy and rewrite them by hand on paper

Step 3 : With a blank sheet alongside you, rewrite your summaries onto it without looking at it, so you'll read off your summaries on your previous page but with your other hand, rewrite it on the blank page. I call it "scribble memorizing" Repeat this until you can do it without looking at your summaries. I do this to basically practice muscle memory so my hand knows what to write without me having to think about it first.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

[xoxosolia]

I MANAGED TO BECOME A MASTER SHIFTER !

Hiii! My name is Solia but you can call me Lia 💞

Disclaimer : English is not my first language, I don't yet speak it fluently, so i use a translators.

I have been in the shifting community since 2021. I shift for the first time when I decided to stop using shifttok and went to shiftblr instead.

I can't really give the magic recipe for shifting because it simply doesn't exist, you have to find what's stopping you from shifting/manifesting. Personally my problem was that I couldn't separate myself from this reality. When I tried to shift, I focused too much on the symptoms and when I wanted to manifest I spent my time checking to see if I had the results in my CR.

I managed to understand what my blockages were thanks to @salemlunaa. Her post really helped me improve and without it I would probably still be stuck in this reality, so if you see this tysm you literally save my life lol 😭. And it was when I understood my blockages that I finally shifted. It was the happiest day of my life, the moment when all my efforts were rewarded and I was confirmed that I hadn't done all that for nothing.

So after that I happened to miss a few other shifting attempts, but I continued to shift until I finally didn't miss any. And now i shift like EVERY NIGHT 😭. I strongly invite you to do the same and NEVER give up. when you gonna succeed you will realize how simple it is.

I'm so sorry I don't explain very well so if you have any questions I'll be happy to answer them

Xoxo, Solia ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

[egrets-not-regrets]

Blue Planet

Korio the Space Shark Astartes, watches the The Blue Planet documentary with his bonded human, Runa.

Author’s Notes:

Dialogue in High Gothic are bolded and italicized.

This is partly based on this post about what kind of present day media survives in 40k. Do not talk trash about Imperial Saint Sir Davyyd At’unnbrugh unless you want to die by Tyberos! This is my new Space Shark boy for #Space Marine Husbandry Sentience.

whai (stingray - Maori Dictionary)

Also, spoilers? for what's in The Blue Planet documentary series?

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams

It’s their weekly movie night. His little whai enthusiastically pulled out a set of DVDs. The cover of the set of discs looked oddly familiar. He remembered having seen something similar in passing on a bookshelf in the Red Wake’s office among his personal collection of archeotech. Korio had asked about what it was, and the Red Wake replied that it was some ancient relic of Davyyd At’unnbrugh, an Oothecan Imperial Saint of great importance. He held the saint in high regard, to the point of killing an ignorant idiot who decided to insult the saint. Korio wouldn’t deny that he was interested in what these discs contain since Tyberos had never let anyone watch the contents in those discs to his knowledge. He wondered if the Oothecan Imperial Saint may have been a descendent of David Attenborough of Ancient Terra.

Runa put down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table then opened the DVD case. Apparently, Korio heard of someone who had a very similar sounding name as David Attenborough in his time, that also made something similar, so he was very interested in watching this documentary series. If he enjoyed it, Runa considered borrowing other Attenborough documentary sets for future movie nights. 

Korio settled onto the couch, watching Runa insert the first disc into the DVD player. She returned to his side and pressed play on the remote control. Dramatic music started playing as David Attenborough started narrating about the power of the oceans and the lives of the creatures that reside in them. What a variety of strange alien creatures... all within and around the oceans of Ancient Terra. He never expected that Terra once had been such a lush place that teemed with life. 

He felt a round bowl placed in his lap, the strong smell of buttered popcorn wafting into his nose. 

Runa tapped his hand and said, “Have them. There enough for us.” her grammar in High Gothic still stumbling. Not for the lack of trying. High Gothic was rather difficult to learn. 

The Carcharadon turned on the translator egg and corrected her, “Have some. There is enough for both of us.” saying what she was trying to convey, letting the device repeat the phrase so she could understand. 

Runa listened carefully, then repeated what he said, understanding the words that were left out. Her bonded astartes nodded his approval. 

Korio rarely spoke the local baseline language, preferring to speak High Gothic. They had been getting by using the translator egg and basic sign language. However, Runa started to learn High Gothic, wanting to better communicate with her bonded Astartes. 

To Korio’s surprise, it was Runa who asked him to help her to practise speaking in High Gothic, let alone taking the initiative to learn the language. Using the translator device, she expressed that it was getting frustrating using the translator all the time in order to talk to him directly, since he rarely spoke in her native language. At that, the Carcharadon felt a tinge of guilt for not learning more of her language. Perhaps their bonding wouldn’t have been fraught with so many difficulties had he learned and spoke the local language earlier. That was not a mistake he was going to make twice. He agreed and bit by bit, they learned to communicate in each other’s languages, slowly relying on the translator device less and less. 

These small practice sessions had the added bonus of doubling as bonding sessions as well; allowing Runa to slowly lose her fear towards her bonded Astartes, and allowing Korio to establish a closer relationship with his bonded human. It was pleasing to see Runa relax more in his presence and even catch a few laughs on occasion. Those were rare and Korio kept the memory of her laughter close to his hearts. 

That eventually led to their almost weekly movie/documentary nights like the one tonight. Sometimes they watched shows in High Gothic with subtitles in english, other times they watched the opposite. Any shows relating to sharks usually drew his interest, but while some were interesting, others with their poor animation and nonsensical plot quickly got rejected. However, he found historical movies and documentaries depicting Ancient Terran historical technology and natural history the most fascinating. 

For this particular documentary, it was in english with High Gothic subtitles, which was probably for the best since it allowed the Carcharadon to listen to David Attenborough’s actual voice. Korio watched with interest, wishing that he had asked the Red Wake’s permission to view the contents of that relic so he could have a comparison. The blue whale was introduced first, the largest animal on Terra, even bigger than the carcharodon that was kept on the bridge of Nicor. Korio inwardly scoffed, he has killed Tyranids larger just as big and ten times as deadly. The blue whale would be a walk in the park, but he couldn’t deny the curiosity to see that large creature in person one day. 

Runa looked up at him and noticed his focused interest. She said, “There are tours to go see whales. I will take you some day.”

“Tours. Tours.” Korio corrected her, then asked, “Blue whales?”

She smiled, “Yes, tours for blue whales and others.”

There was a softened look in his normally stoic expression, “Some day.” he quietly replied as his grey hand tenderly caressed her cheek. Runa blushed, still getting used to Korio’s random affectionate gestures.

The documentary continued, introducing other sea creatures from other parts of Ancient Terra, showing bait balls of small fish, followed by their aerial and underwater predators. As he watched the different species of sharks grouped up into giant shoals to follow the massive biomass of small prey fish; Korio was reminded of how the multiple battle companies came together to rejoin the chapter’s main fleet in preparation for the next large battle. 

Korio and Runa started on the popcorn while watching the pack of orca attacking the mother-calf pair of grey whales. Despite her larger size, the mother grey whale was unable to save her calf. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by the prey or disappointed by predators since the whole ordeal lasted six hours as Attenborough mentioned. 

Runa suddenly took the translator egg, commenting, “Different groups of orcas around the world, can develop hunting techniques to specialize hunting certain prey.” 

Korio listened to the translation and hummed in acknowledgement. That was similar to the different fighting styles from the different legions and chapters of Astartes. 

The scene switched to a whalefall being consumed by the scavengers of the deep. The Carcharodon recognized the hagfish as he had seen them in the research laboratory at the aquarium. Glancing down, he saw Runa reaching into the bowl and taking another handful of popcorn. Impulsively, he bent down and sneaked a mouthful of popcorn from her hand. His bonded froze and looked at him with a strange expression. He sat back up and looked back at her, a glint of sly humor in his dark eyes. Runa’s expression twisted into something between consternation and amusement, before bursting out in giggles. Korio felt pretty proud at that moment. 

Runa caught her breath, “You sneak! If you wanted to be fed, you could have just said so. No need to be like that sneaky leopard shark at the aquarium!”

“Here. Sneaky shark.” She snorted as she held up a few pieces of popcorn at her fingertips to his mouth. 

Korio gently picked the popcorn from her fingers, his sharp teeth barely grazing her skin. He swallowed then replied with a slight grin, “Your sneaky shark. More.”

Runa huffed, “Yes, yes. My sneaky shark.” holding up another few pieces of popcorn for him with a wry smile on her face. Korio felt pleased that Runa responded positively to his impulsive attempt to get her to feed him. Not that he needed to be hand-fed, but at least it confirmed that she was willing to touch him and how much more at ease she was with his presence now. 

He went back to watching the documentary, watching the shoal of squid laying and fertilizing the masses of egg capsules on the seabed, every now and then eating the popcorn that Runa fed him. How alien that they laid eggs in large clusters like that, but in numbers that big, Korio supposed there would be enough young to survive despite predation. To be fair, they were rather delicious, it was a good thing these small squid existed in such large numbers. 

There were only a few pieces of popcorn left. Korio quickly took the handful and placed it in front of his bonded, “Have some, Runa.” he said quietly. 

She looked surprised at first, but then smiled at him and grabbed the popcorn then stuffed them in her mouth. 

“Thank you.” she said. His mouth twitched into a slight smile. 

The first disc came to an end. Runa asked him, “Do you like it? You want more?”

The Carcharodon grinned, looking forward to view the next disc in the series along with his bonded human, “Yes. More.”