#then there's hundreds of thousands of others already out there

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none; some mild cussing, reader wears glasses and jay's a bit awkward lol

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: first fic ever yay! I was rewatching HTTYD and this idea came to me and who am I to deny the muses of writing

Jason knew this patrol was going to be a tough one.

The usual gloomy Gotham night had a sort of electric tension to it, putting everyone on edge.

As he finished securing the guns on his holsters, a deafening roar made him jump out of his skin.

It was nothing like he had ever heard before: the sound seemed like it came from above his building complex, akin to that of a thousand lions. A loud thump shook the whole building and Jason peeked his head out of the window, watching as people on the streets were running away from flames, screaming in terror.

He sighed warily, grabbing more magazines than usual and hurrying down the fire escape, too preoccupied to reach his bike and go to the Batcave to tell them what the fuck was going on than to look back out of the kitchen window, where a pair of giant eyes was watching him leave his apartment.

As he rounded the corner of his building in a hurry, so close to reaching his bike in the garage, he abruptly stopped as he was face to face - or better yet, face to snout - with the humongous muzzle of a giant lizard.

Or at least that's what he thought it was until the creature opened his mouth and emitted scorching flames too close for his comfort.

Jason backed up, his mind running a hundred miles an hour.

"Hey there, buddy..." He tried to coax the thing, whowas eyeing him with a blood-lust gaze.

Jason gulped, not too sure about his helmet's fire resistance anymore.

The thing was at least 10 feet tall and just as big, if not more. The scales on its body reflected the streetlamp light, giving it a more menacing look and steam seemed to come out of every pore on its body.

As both of them kept looking at each other, none of them relenting, Jason swiftly pulled out his gun, aiming it at the creature just as quickly.

Frightened by the sudden movement, the giant lizard thingy that he didn't want to call a dragon but that looked scarily similar to one, screeched, causing Jason to let go of his gun and clutch at his helmet in pain, the noise unbearable.

The dragon -yes, he was going to call it that- stumbled again and zeroed in his fire breath directly on his garage door, melting the metal panel.

"Shit!" Jason took several steps back to shield himself from the heat.

The dragon kept at it for several seconds, but all the damage was already done. As it took one final look around, it flew away, its huge wings taking out the flames.

Jason stood there in silence, the chaos of the outside world drowning out all of his thoughts as he stared at his bike, just the two silver handles barely visible in the otherwise pile of melted metal and burnt leather.

His chest heaved uncontrollably, just know realizing what he saw.

Suddenly, his comms activated, the shrill of Dick's screaming making him frown in irritation.

"Everybody, we've got dragons in Gotham!"

"No shit, Dickhead," Jason deadpanned, still looking at what remained of his bike.

"Oracle, I need a ride to the Batcave. Now."

You had spent the whole day tending to your dragon, Obsidian, as he had quickly gotten bored of his play buddies that he usually hung out by the lake with and had decided to bother you while you were studying.

"You big baby," you cooed at him, scratching his chin with your left your hand as you continued typing on your laptop, one paragraph of your final essay almost finished.

After completing your bachelor degree, you had decided to open a dragon sanctuary with your best friend from college after seeing so many of them getting mistreated and abused.

In the area where you lived, dragons were sadly thought as being more of a nuisance than loyal companions, thus leading everyone to think that they weren’t worthy of love and shelter.

The first dragon you had ever rescued was Obsidian, discovering him near your local park after a morning jog.

His little paws were sticking out of the half-burned box he was laying in and you couldn't resist his big amber eyes staring at you, so you took him home, much to your parents' chagrin.

Now here you were, nearly two years later and almost finishing your thesis with a huge, sassy dragon resting his head on your lap and demanding scritches behind his horns.

"You're so cute, Obi," you smiled down at him.

The dragon responded by gently nuzzling his head further into your lap, a low purring rumbling through your whole body.

"So cute, such a cutesy, lovely-" your cooing was cut short by a large swooshing sound and screeches coming from the lake.

You furrowed your brows as you felt the way Obsidian's body tensed up and started growling at the direction the noise came from.

You set your laptop aside as you made your way towards the lake, your dragon hot on your tail, his black scales reflecting the moonlight.

"What the hell's going on?", you muttered to yourself as you reached the premises.

Your eyes widened as you saw all the dragons of your sanctuary lose their minds, their wings flapping erratically as they screeched in fright.

Slowing approaching the flock, you noticed how they were huddled around a sparkle of some sort.

You took your utility belt and your trustworthy lasso from the nearby hut in case something came out to harm you.

The sparkle was emitting blue light and it kept keeping bigger and bigger, opening up like some sort of portal, and as it grew in size, the dragons freaked out more and more, to the point where you had trouble controlling Obsidian as well.

"Easy now, easy, Obi," you tried to reassure him. Your bond with him was extremely solid and transcended everything you had felt before, so you could calm him down enough for him to still listen to you, but it was too late for the rest of them.

Now too far gone, they became skittish and as the both of you approached them, they ran through the portal, one by one.

You ran after them, swiftly getting on Obi's back as you saw the portal getting smaller again.

"Shit, Obi, run faster!"

As you shouted at him, you felt his wings sprawling out and you took flight, passing through the portal.

You looked around as you took in your new surroundings, but you quickly had to clutch your nose at the pungent reek of smog and overall dirt that seemed to cling to the city below you.

You furrowed your brows in disdain as you saw skyscraper after skyscraper, not a single ounce of green in sight.

It all was so different from your home, but you quickly had to regain your composure as you saw your dragons already wreaking havoc through the city, squishing cars under their weight and setting things on fire.

"Obi, fly low," you instructed him.

He grunted in acknowledgement as he slowly lowered himself from his previous stance and you instructed him to land on a rooftop.

Getting off, you took a once over at Obsidian, checking for anything out of the ordinary that might have happened as he flew through the portal.

Reassured that he was all set, you released a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Everything here seemed so...strange.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck the city and you could feel the static that was left in its wake.

Where were you anyway?

You didn’t have much time to ponder on the question as you saw one of your wind dragons, Helix, making his way towards the outskirts of the city, gusts of wind quickly encircling him as he flew away. The white dragon couldn’t have been too far away from you, so you decided to follow him in attempt to lasso him back and tranquilise him. You hated carrying the tranquiliser gun, but you knew that it was better to be safe than sorry when dealing with these giant creatures.

As you hopped back onto Obsidian’s back, a light caught your eye.

It was being shone from a near-by building, and it represented a…bat?

You contemplated on the image a bit, but then got pulled back to reality by you dragon suddenly taking flight.

You yelped as you reached for his horns, trying to hold onto them, completely caught by surprise.

“Whoa, Obi, what has gotten into you?” you screamed at the dragon, who huffed in response, tailgating Helix.

You held tightly to your dragon’s back, the absence of a saddle not bothering you, as that’s how you first learned to ride.

You quickly approached Helix, the white dragon’s movements erratic and confusing you.

As you got closer to him, you let go of Obi’s horns and unravelled your lasso, positioning yourself upright, ready to catch one of his legs or, more hopefully, one of his wings.

The pursuit lasted several minutes and you couldn’t get a clear opening.

Just as you thought you had a car view of his hind legs, Obi suddenly stopped and remained still, his black wings still flapping to keep the both of you in the air.

You were about to question him but the words died in your throat as you saw that Helix was headed straight to what seemed like a manor’s rooftop.

Your eyes widened in shock, but you knew you couldn’t do much and just looked with your mouth agape as he made full contact with the building, the great force of the collision seemingly rattling the manor.

Meanwhile, Jason and the others were in the Batcave, contemplating what to do.

“You know,” chimed Damian, “if these dragons are anything like Goliath, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said as he looked up at his pet dragon, who was lazily lounging next to him.

Both Dick and Jason deadpanned at that.

Dick was the first to speak up, his arms moving all over the place, “Have you seen them?” he asked, incredulous at his little brother’s words, “they’re freaking huge, much bigger than Goliath and much, much scarier,”

“One of them set my bike on fire.” Was all that Jason said, his arms crossed in irritation, wanting to get rid of them already.

Stephanie wheezed, holding her stomach as she doubles over in laughter, “Is that why you asked Barbara for the Batmobile to be brought to you?”

All she received was a dirty look.

“If that’s of any consolation, another one of them almost stomped me to death,” added Tim, shivering at the memory of almost becoming a human patty mere minutes ago.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a contemplative sigh as he thought on what to do next.

Before he got a change to open his mouth, a loud crash with a following roaring sound shook the Batcave and the manor, making everyone brace themselves onto the console so they wouldn’t fall.

Jason locked eyes with Cass as he shouted a “what the fuck is going on?”, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

Bruce put on his cowl and gestured for them all to follow him, not waiting for them as they all put on their domino masks and helmets and got out of the cave as well.

“I hope to God that wasn’t a fucking dragon crashing right into the manor because if it is-”

Dick’s threat fell on deaf ears as they all reached the left wing of the building and saw a huge white dragon trying to wiggle out of his spot on the rooftop, as it had completely caved it in when it crashed.

All they could do was watch in horror as the creature seemed to flap its wings trying to escape, sending bricks and debris flying everywhere.

They all swiftly dodged the moving objects, when all of a sudden, a person’s screaming voice pierced through the chaos.

Jason looked to the left right of the manor and could hardly make out the silhouette of another dragon, this time pitch-black, who had…a person on its back??

He had to do a double take to confirm that what he saw wasn’t something his mind was conjuring up: on the dragon’s back there was a woman with a lasso in her hands, yelling something at the white dragon who continued to thrash on – or should he say in – the manor’s roof.

Her yelling stopped as she spotted them on the ground, all of Gotham’s vigilantes staring with a mixture of confused and awe-struck expressions on their faces as she told something to the black dragon she was on and quickly landed on the manor’s grounds, the dimensions of the creature really showing when its horns brushed against the top branches of one of the oak trees planted by the entrance.

“Fucking hell…” was all that Jason could mutter as he took in the creature’s large body, covered in black scales that reflected the garden lights in hues of metallic blue and purple. Its spiked tail swishing back and forth as it started down at the group with its beady amber eyes, almost as if it was challenging them to try and come closer to you, now standing in front of it.

You held a hand to his snout and whispered something to the lines of “calm down, bub, I’m just going to talk to them”, and the dragon visibly relaxed but still kept a guarded stance.

You hesitantly approached Jason and the others, who were all sizing you up to determine if you were a possible threat or not, but upon reading your relaxed and submissive body language their shoulders slightly sagged.

You walked until you were a few meters from them, then stopped and pointed back at the creature on the manor’s roof with your thumb.

“My dragon’s on your roof,” you said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your head.

No shit, Jason thought, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth nonetheless.

He was admiring the way you purposely carried yourself with a calm and composed, albeit quite awkward, demeanour, having probably realized that dragons weren’t an everyday sighting here.

Your eyes sparkled behind your glasses as you latched your lasso back onto your utility belt. Jason noticed how you were wearing civilian clothes, quite similar to the ones you could find in most stores here in Gotham, so he wondered how on earth did you look like some sort of dragon-cowboy back there, up in the air, with the lasso hovering over your head as you swung it with expertise.

Bruce was the first one to talk, taking a few steps towards you. You widened your eyes in surprise, not having noticed the black-clad man until now. A shiver run down your spine as you saw the menacing cowl he was wearing.

“Who are you and why are you here.”

You released a shaky breath as you started talking, feeling everyone’s eyes on you.

“Listen, I don’t know where I am but I was just minding my own business when all of a sudden, a portal bigger than my house opened up in my backyard and that may have heavily triggered my dragons and they kinda went through it and are now here and I know they are wreaking havoc and are overall being so naughty I’m so sorry-” you said all in one breath, your apologetic nature getting the best of you as you pleaded them not to hurt them.

Dick held his arm up, shutting you up, “They’re yours?” He said, an incredulous look clearly shown on his face despite his domino mask covering his eyes.

You nodded as if that were the most normal thing ever, giving him a strange look.

“Uh, yeah?” You said, looking back at Obsidian, pointing at him, “Well, he’s technically mine, but the others are, too, since I’ve rescued them and they’re now staying at my sanctuary-” you got interrupted again, this time by Damian, who received a concerned gaze from you, shocked to see a kid.

“You have a sanctuary for dragons?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling very excited to have someone to talk about dragons to.

You smiled in excitement, your sudden change in body language not going unnoticed by Jason as he kept quiet, memorizing your every feature.

God she’s pretty.

Jason caught Cass’ gaze and felt himself blush as she gave him a knowing look, having clearly read his body language as well.

He was so grateful to have his helmet on at that moment.

Your laugh pulled him out of his thoughts and he caught you answer to one of Bruce’s questions.

“-yeah, so I don’t know where it exactly was, I only was some skyscrapers after I passed through it,” you quickly explained.

Bruce nodded in contemplation, lowering his gaze to the ground, before your next question made him snap his stern eyes back at you.

“So, what’s up with the costumes and the masks?” You asked, slightly confused at the funny looking people in front of you. Maybe they were having some sort of party?

“You don’t know who we are?” Asked Stephanie in slight surprise.

You chuckled, looking at her, “Should I?”

“Duh, we’re Gotham’s best – and only – vigilantes!”

“What’s a…vigilante?”

Uh?

“UH?”

Everybody’s incredulous gaze snapped to you and sensing your discomfort, Obsidian growled in warning at the group, still not getting too close to them per your command.

“Easy, Obi,” you reassured your dragon, smiling to comfort him. He huffed and turned his head to look at Helix, who had since stopped struggling and was looking at you curiously from his place on the manor’s roof.

“Uhm, so…” you continued, staring back at the group, “where I come from, we don’t have vigilantes…so, care to explain what you guys do, exactly?”

Jason huffed a laugh at Dick’s defeated expression, his pride noticeably shrinking by the second as you stared at him as he were a lunatic.

“We fight crime,” he said, turning your attention to him. He noticed your perplexed gaze, probably caused by the helmet he was wearing, “but we do it in suits and masks to conceal our identity since, you know, we have day jobs and carry normal lives during the day.”

You mouth opened in realization, bashful for having mistaken them for randos but also relieved to have struck conversation with people who might be able to help you.

“So, you’re like dragon protectors!” you said in awe, “they basically do the same stuff you guys say you do, but while riding dragons so they can cover more land.”

“Wait that’s actually so cool-”

“I know, they’re the coolest people where I come from!!”

“Wait, where do you come from?”

You furrowed your brows, thinking of an answer that will probably help them understand your world better.

“Earth.”

“What do you mean Earth, this is Earth”, said another one of the vigilantes, a quite lanky one with black bangs falling on his eyes.

You shrugged in response.

“We call it Earth, so I don’t know what to tell you, really”

“Well, then, we must figure out where the signal of the portal came from so we can understand if it was opened from your Earth or ours, and then we’ll help you bring the dragons back-” Bruce’s plan was interrupted by Helix’s roar, this time in desperation as he wanted to be freed by the bricks that were digging into his scaled body.

You signed, turning back to them with an apologetic smile, “I’ll get that.”

“Do you want us to help?”

You shook your head, thanking them, apologizing for the dragon-sized damage.

Bruce dismissed you with his hand, telling you not to worry about it.

As you walked back towards Obsidian, he turned back to the others, his tight-lipped expression evaluating the possible outcomes this situation could bring upon Gotham.

“So, what do we think?” said Tim, his gaze not leaving your figure as you hopped onto your dragon’s back.

“She’s nice, I like her.”

“We’re not talking about that. We need to know if we can trust her not to use the dragons to turn the city to literal ashes,” said Damian, receiving a groan in response by Stephanie.

“You’re awfully quiet, Todd,” Dick jabbed his little brother with his elbow, earning a stomp on his foot.

“What do you want me to say?” he responded, truly at a loss of words, “I mean, dragons? In Gotham?”

“What about Goliath, then?”

“Well, he isn’t from here as well, you know,”

“I should show her him! Maybe she could tell us why he’s been itching like crazy for the last few weeks-”

The banter stopped as Tim’s “Guys, look!” made everyone turn back around and watch with wide eyes at the scene before them.

You were now a good 15 feet from the ground, the wings of your dragon flapping steadily as you got up to your feet, positioning your body sideways to stabilize your core.

You took the lasso into your hands and started rotating it in a circular motion at the white dragon in front od you, who had begun to wriggle again out of fear of staying stuck there, his frightened gaze unable to clearly see you.

It was safe to say he’d never been the sharpest dragon amongst your flock.

Jason stared in awe as you swinged the rope one last time before flinging it at the dragon, catching him by one of his crooked horns. You secured your hold on it, tightening the rope quickly and then putting it in Obsidian’s mouth, who pulled once, twice, and at the third time successfully released his friend, setting him down onto the ground with a loud thump that shook the trees and bushes surrounding the premises of the manor.

You quickly got off of your dragon’s back and with some sort of weapon in hand, made your way towards the creature. Jason furrowed his brows in confusion at your “I’m so sorry buddy”, thinking the worst when you aimed the gun at his throat, but taking a breath in relief when he saw it was a dart gun.

The dart now jabbed in Helix’s throat had a quick effect on his, as he slumped over, his chin squishing a finely shaped topiary, turning the squirrel-shaped bush into a sad blob of leaves.

You smiled to yourself and petted Obsidian’s snout, praising him for a job well done.

Turning back to the group, you shouted happily, waving your arms to attract their attention but stopping mid air as you saw them all already staring at you.

“Can he stay here for a while?”

[themareverine]

—worst!Logan x nameless!femOC

warnings: fluff, domesticity, absolutely self indulgent, mentions of a car accident, based on some limited Googling I’ve placed Logan and Deadpool in Hoboken, NJ.

car shopping with Logan torturing the salesman and being sexy, lol. can only imagine. absolutely no idea where this came from, took me 20 minutes on my phone. Enjoy.

“I just wanna know if the heads have been done, baby.”

Nervously twisting her foot against the stones and other used-car lot gravel has done little to sway Logan’s insistence on forcing the underpaid salesman to answer earthbending questions just short of torturous. Twice already the man had left back into the office to retrieve records—hasn’t been smart enough to just keep the file on hand. Kids these days, is all Logan had muttered. The man was no less than 55, at a wild hair guess—gray mottling his beard and once-copper hair was evidence.

Attention welded firmly to the top the motor humming quietly in front of him, Logan’s hands slip into his pockets as he studies. He’d been taking her to car dealerships all afternoon, for nearly five weekends in a row—money burning holes in the pockets of his Wranglers, no doubt.

Unable to find anything remotely worth his time, Logan had been nitpicking since she’d proudly waved the check from Geico proudly overhead. Like a battle flag staked in the survival of a car accident, it wasn’t a life changing amount of cash—meager, actually, considering the vehicle lost. She’d trashed the Tuscon on the backroads of Tennessee valley country, a tried and true companion with well over two hundred thousand on the dash and the Midwestern rust to prove it.

A wreck she’d walked away from. Logan had all but flown to her aid—he hadn’t slept the thirteen hours and thirty eight minutes it had taken to rescue her from hill country. With little warning, he’d packed a backpack, punched out of Jersey with his Jeep. Gas station coffee, cigars, and a stashed bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the front seat had found her, swept her up in a kiss and concern, and whisked her back to Hoboken.

And in true Logan fashion, he’d kept under wraps his intentions until that check hit the mailbox. Or, rather—a Snapchat had showed up on his phone. Ecstatic, a heavily filtered and stickered snap had made him smile—and she’d almost dropped her phone. Hadn’t been not a walking mess of flustered and flattered, doe-eyed and dreamwalking since he’d announced he would not only be helping her scout out her new rig, but paying the difference for whatever pink slip she came to acquire.

“It’s just money, darlin’—I got plen’y.”

Mistruth, she knew—Logan worked hard on a barely-livable wage working logs, but, despite any attempt to argue over shared chili cheese fries and rootbeer floats, she’d relented. Hands tossed in the air. He, after all, had money saved. Couldn’t think of a better investment.

“Gotta get my girl into something safer than a fucking Hyundai Tuscon.”

“Logan. I really think it’s fine—“ Hunger burns at the base of her spine. Her feet are near bleeding in wedge heels, and it may as well be sun surface degrees standing on the blacktop in jeans and a Greatest Showman Lip Sync t-shirt. The turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck is heavy and slick with perspiration from the back of her neck—also a gift from Logan, for Hanukkah. Presented before her family as a grand gesture of vested interest and traditional courtship, it was as real as God. Expensive. Heavy.

His look is hard, wrinkled as his eyes scale over her. “You got somewhere to be?” Nodding to the phone in her hand, “You’re checkin’ the time like it’s your lover, honey. Secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” His brows wag teasingly for a second, pink flashing to life on her cheeks.

“I just think if we’re not gonna buy the car, we shouldn’t be making poor Phil run back and forth,”

They’d already discussed this on the test drive. Phil was two things, if not honest—a jackass, and completely incompetent when it came to the issue of Subaru Outback’s with the 3.6r. Logan and his copious amounts of obsessive access to Google, married with over 200 years of tinkering on anything with wheels, had determined every single known mechanical complaint about these damn wagons—and, once she’d decided which direction to go, had made it his life’s purpose to plague every single online forum to know. He’d asked questions. Googled schematics and blueprints. Had test driven no less than six vehicles, finding faults with all of them. Salespeople aside.

His nose wrinkles, snorting dismissively. “The fuck I won’t,” hands fall from his pockets to the frame of the Outback, Logan bending over the motor to consider the hum of the serpentine belt, “ain’t gonna kill him to make some steps when his ass is gettin’ fat in an office chair, darlin’. B’sides, haven’t decided if we’re buying this or not—not fully.” In other words, I’m having fun pullin’ his chain, baby.

Sighing, she drops her purse off her shoulder and reaches to unclasp the necklace from off her neck. Logan clocks her shift, brows furrowed—moves behind to undo it himself, thick fingers warm and calloused as they gently brush the curls on the back of her neck. Heat ebbs from him like a long black train, breath warm and heady on the back of her neck.

Handing the necklace over her shoulder, his arm snakes around her waist. Tugs her close. Smiling against her flittering pulse, his hand covers the necklace in hers as a low hum of approval rummages around the adamantium in his chest.

“You’re hot,” he hums. And she isn’t sure if he means overheated or otherwise, but opts into the adjective game.

“It’s a hundred degrees,” and that’s no lie. Gently tipping her head to the side, she smiles as his tongue gently lathes the spot behind her ear, “I’m in jeans and heels, Wolvie honey.” Her hand reached to brush fingers through his hair, tempted to pull. “And I know for damn sure you’re not buying this Outback. You don’t like Phil.”

Gut punched and pleasured, his growl is animalistic. Bestial. “How’d ya know that?”

Her lilt is light, teasing as her hips cant back against his pelvis. “You didn’t like him the second he slapped eyes on my tits in this shirt, that’s how,” her sigh is exaggerated, “and—for a guy over two centuries old, you don’t exactly have a poker face, Logan.”

His laugh is hard, rough around his chest. She can feel it rattle down her spine, chasing the heat that pools in the cradle of her womb. Every nerve is alive as he snugs up his arm around her waist, fingers tracing the buckle of her belt. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gently sways her back and forth.

She continues, “I am also waiting for you to cash in on that promise for lunch,” glancing down, “you can obviously see I’m withering away here, Wolverine.” Trying not to giggle as his hands move to her hips, nipping at her skin, his fingers gently slip into the pockets of her jeans as he angles his head to brush his nose against the shell of her ear.

“Got a better idea, sunshine—how about we screw Felony Phil and his clunker of an Outback, and I take you outback for some product research, huh?”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. Sold.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[porcupine-girl]

Here is something to remember as we watch Trump kick off the insanity with his ridiculous cabinet picks:

He’s not a dictator yet.

Some things - even some illegal things, now that anything he does “officially” isn’t illegal - will be a lot harder for him to do than others.

Blackmailing a foreign leader? Easy for him to do all by himself. Selling classified documents to our enemies? Unfortunately, easy for him to do by himself.

But some things require the cooperation of large chunks of the government. Not just on paper, in a way he can ignore, but in the fact that it will take hundreds to thousands of people to pull it off and any bit of government interrupting that process may stop it entirely. And yes, he controls a larger swath of that than last time, but he doesn’t control the whole thing yet.

These cabinet picks? If we can convince just a handful of the people who occasionally scraped together enough spine to stand up to him last time to vote against them, they’re toast. I’m literally planning on sending letters - not emails, USPS letters - to Sens. Collins, Murkowski, and Romney * begging them to do the right thing. Collins and Murkowski have already publicly doubted these cabinet picks. I doubt they’ll all three veto every bad pick, but if all three of them vote against even one, that’s damage reduced.

This DOGE thing? This CNN article points out that it’s likely to get bogged down by FACA, the Federal Advisory Committee Act, which in his last term stopped his plan to set up a committee to “investigate voter fraud.”

How did it stop him? Not by telling him he can’t do it, and then him listening and obeying. They stopped him by tying the whole thing up in the courts until he got bored and dropped it. He might own SCOTUS, but he doesn’t own the entire federal court system yet.

And he had a short attention span and doesn’t actually give a shit about anything. Do you think he actually cares about reducing government waste? Of course not, he just wants lower taxes and fewer regulations for himself and his buddies. If it doesn’t look like DOGE is going to get him that quickly enough, he’ll lose interest.

I’m not saying the system is functional enough to stop everything he wants to do. It wasn’t last time, and it’s less so this time.

But when you start to spiral into despair, remember that the system is big enough and lumbering enough to slow him down. To get in his way. Not every time, but sometimes. He will NOT be able to pull off every single thing he or Project 2025 claims he’ll do. We don’t know yet which things he will or won’t manage, and yes, he might make some of the worst things happen.

But he’s not a dictator yet, he doesn’t have total control yet. The more cooperation from others it takes to pull something off, the less likely he is to manage it. He will fail sometimes.

* I knew Romney was retiring but I thought his term wasn’t quite up yet. But no, he’ll be gone.

[buckleyy]

i’ve always been a buddie truther but at this point, only thing that makes sense narratively is for buck to be with someone he already knows and has a connection with. this isn’t to say that people can’t fall in love when they meet with that intention, like dating, in real life obviously. but buck has already been with characters that are put in the show for the purpose of being his love interest like a thousand times, and it’s never worked out for him. it would be sooo unfulfilling for the story if they introduced another character as a love interest and were like omg finally! this is the one. that just wouldn’t work, unless there was a lot of build up of their relationship, and build up of the character outside their relationship. they’ve tried to do that with taylor (taylor x lucy when?? tim i know you can hear me) but it still felt like bucks love interest was getting a backstory instead of taylor herself does that make sense?

now instead of giving buck a love interest, they could have him accept being single, but that would honestly be such a let down. pleaaase don’t get me wrong i LOVE when characters are single and living their best life, but that doesn’t make sense for buck. he wants to be in love soooo bad and have a family he’s basically a disney princess at this point. he asked tommy to move in with him for gods sake like this boy is desperate bless his heart

it’s unlikely to me that they’ll introduce a new consistent character at this point in the show (bring back ravi!!). so it would make the most sense to build up an existing relationship buck has. don’t hit me, but i wouldn’t be entirely opposed to them bringing taylor back as a consistent character, letting her do her thing, and then rebuilding the relationship from there. however, i don’t see that happening. it would make the most sense for buck to be with a character who is already established on the show, whose own personal and romantic life have them in the same spot as buck, who has great chemistry with buck…. who’s newly single and reconsidering what he wants out of life…. who once had a panic attack when someone thought his girlfriend was his sons mom despite literally writing buck into his will without a second thought…who has hundreds of other clues pointing to him being gay… who is recently unmustached…

[moonlit-imagines]

I Know The End

Eternals x reader

warnings:

a/n: wait this song is kinda perfect for this

prompt: @the-kinnie-in-me: “Hi! I saw the extension for your 8k event (congrats btw) and wanted to participate with “I know the end” by Phoebe Bridgers + Marvel’s Eternals + Familial and reader is an eternal too if that’s okay 😅 tysm in advance 💕”

It happened to be that you left the Eternals long before the rest felt the need. Something just didn’t feel right as you spent some thousand years protecting humanity and regardless of what the others thought or their devotion to the mission, you knew you wanted out.

You snuck away in the dead of night feeling a massive sense of guilt the further the distance from the only family you’d known all these years. Ajak, Druig, Sersi, all of them would be so hurt you left without a word—but would they have let you leave if you told them?

You didn’t want to be found, not for now. Maybe not ever. But those memories would always haunt you and urge you to go back and you couldn’t drown them out.

Now it was the 21st century and the Eternals were at your front door.

“Found you.” Druig chuckled, inviting himself and the others into your little apartment. “The end is here, y/n.”

“No ‘hello,’ huh? What do you mean? Why are you here?” Your voice chock-full of frustration and embarrassment.

“There was no ‘goodbye.’” Sersi replied, lightly stepping on your creaky hardwood floor, observing some of your collection. “Six hundred A.D.” She pointed to an item on your shelf. “Egypt without us?” You sat down on your couch and shook your head.

“Why did you guys come here? ‘The end’ isn’t good enough.” You demanded as Sprite sat beside you.

“Deviants are back.” Ikaris explained and you rolled your eyes.

“You can handle those. I saw them on the news.m already.” Your guard hadn’t dropped yet, but you felt tears welling just from your family being present in your home.

“A new Celestial is being born.” Sersi added, something they should have led with. “From Earth. It will destroy everything if we don’t find a way to prevent that.”

“You want to kill it?” You asked, completely horrified.

“Merely put it off until a better option presents itself.” Druig continued the conversation and your eyes widened, not understanding how that would even be possible. Your life flashed before you and you just felt lost—you had no idea what happened between when you left and now. Fifteen hundred years passed and now they were asking for your help as if nothing had happened.

“Will you come with us?” Ikaris asked and all eyes fell onto you. You felt a lump in your throat when the question was presented, and Sprite grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“We need you, y/n. Goodbye or not, we want you there with us when we figure this out.” Sersi assured you, and you smiled lightly.

“Yeah. If you don’t, everyone might die.” Druig added and Ikaris glared at him. You chuckled out of amusement and discomfort and nodded.

“Yeah. Why not…”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #60 – Paved Paradise: How Parking Explains the World by Henry Grabar

This is a book I heard about because the cranky old communist who runs the local daily paper recommended it in some editorial I’ve long since forgotten the actual point of. Which is generally a very high-risk way to get book recommendations, but in this case it worked out! Though I came into this as the friendliest possible audience for the arguments Grabar is trying to make, so I’m genuinely not that sure how convincing a work it is for a less sympathetic reader. It is at least full of fun and somewhat memorable anecdotes.

The book is about, well, (almost) exactly what it says on the tin – the economics and politics and logistics of parking infrastructure in American cities. Specifically, how it is an all-consuming, economy-warping, environment-destroying, city-killing cancer that is the primary causes of decaying urban cores and the lack of affordable housing in gentrifying neighborhoods. The book is loosely organized, with each different chapter approaching the question of and ills caused by parking from a slightly different angle, or considering the history and psychology that has made it such a mighty force, or showing case studies of how different places have started fixing it.

The two main thrusts of the book are a) parking as an un- (which is to say privately-) regulated privilege and entitlement which the great mass of the American public expects to be provided for free (or for an at-most nominal fee) wherever they happen to want to go and b) parking as possibly the least efficient use of developed real estate in the world, and one that absolutely dominates most American cities.

The latter is a bit less interesting to me, just because it’s broadly things I either already knew or could have pretty quickly puzzled out from what I do. It’s still quite well-presented, and quite rage-inducing – the number of square miles of space set aside for the sole use of free parking on every urban street, the eye-watering amount of money cities spend and give up in revenue to subsidize driving and parking, the hundreds of thousands of units of housing whose economics don’t pencil out because of mandatory parking minimums or that are killed by neighbors and ‘community engagement’ out of (ostensible) concern over their effect on parking availability in the neighborhood, and so on. It’s all well-told, but none of it’s exactly groundbreaking (which Grabar is entirely forthright about, to be clear. A large chunk of the book is combination synopsis and advertisement for the older and more more rigorous The High Cost of Free Parking, also cited as one of the main reference texts).

The former is much more interesting reading for me, just because (as a lifelong and involuntary non-driver) the psychology of it is just a bit foreign to me. The sheer fact that so much parking is both free and unregulated means that instead of market pricing or government permitting all manner of fascinatingly dysfunctional private systems to allocate and ration it out develop instead. Fist fights and murders over stolen parking spots, the self-proclaimed vigilantes patrolling condo parking lots for anyone overstaying their welcome, outright criminal conspiracies and organized violence between ice cream truck companies over poaching each others most lucrative routes – many less morbid and attention-getting things too, to be fair, but it’s still all just fascinating. And if ‘explains the world’ is a bit much, does function as an excellent window into a great many neuroses and dysfunctions of American public life.

One of the points the book repeatedly hammers home is that ‘parking shortages’ are, except in a few extremely select neighborhoods, basically a myth. The parking is almost always there – the average American city has more free or subsidized parking spaces and lots than are filled (at least) 360 days of the year. Drivers just expect parking that is simultaneously no more than a couple blocks from their destination, available the moment they pull up, and (almost) free. Garages go half empty while thousands of road-miles are driven every month circling blocks looking for free spots – terrible for the climate, for the roads being driven on, and for traffic and the utility of driving through the city in the first place. Reducing or eliminating free curbside parking (either charging market-clearing rates, or using the real estate for loading zones or patio seating or any of a thousand other things that serve more people in a period than the same amount of parking) thus often makes traffic better, not worse.

This is very much a book written by a journalist rather than an academic, for both good and ill – not that it doesn’t seem densely researched or well-cited (the endnotes run north of 50 pages), but there’s definitely a prioritization of being approachable and readable over being detailed or rigorous. Hence every chapter having at least one and usually several interviews or deeply characterized anecdotes there to be case studies and examples. Sometimes this anecdotes are incredibly interesting and something I’d probably read a book entirely devoted to – the above mentioned New York City ice cream truck feuds, or the fascinatingly blatant and eye-popping amount of corruption around parking ticketing and violations also in NYC, or how the city of Chicago sold the right to operate all its parking meters through the end of the century to Morgan Stanley – but just as (if not more) often it’s just a few pages sketching a sympathetic portrait and life story of someone suffering the travails of some aspect of parking infrastructure so the reader will have someone to empathize with as the problem is described. A trick that does start t get old the more often it’s repeated.

The book’s long digressions into history were (perhaps unsurprisingly) more interesting for me than the contemporary anecdotes. Partially just because the evolution of things like the car garage and how public streets are conceived of is always interesting to learn more about, and partially because of just how long we have at this point known about things like ‘induced demand’ and the various morbid inefficiencies of car-first, -only and -always culture. Literally generations! It's bleak.

Though having said that, this was funnily enough one of the only works of nonfiction I can remember reading in a long, long time that ended on a positive note in a way that didn’t sound like transparent cope. As is mandatory in all works of pop-sociology, -economics or -poli-sci, this one also ends in a chapter or two of examples of Doing It Right and ways society can fix itself going forward. Grabar just actually weaves together a narrative through most of the book of a slowly-increasing pushback and growing political coalitions who are (in the book’s framing) more interested in cheaper housing and more usable public space than traffic jams and parking lots. The COVID lockdowns and sudden need for as much outdoor space as possible – leading to parking lots being repurposed as church pews, curbside parking as patio seating, and a dozen other things – serve as a case in point. The book ends reiterating the point that the USA’s most desirable and expensive neighbourhoods are very often the ones that are dense and walkable enough (and/or sufficiently well-served by public transit) to comfortably live in without owning a car, and the confident belief that such neighbourhoods are only going to grow more common.

All that said, Grabar’s actually much more sympathetic to the pro-car, pro-parking viewpoint than most authors or pundits I have seen make similar points are. Sometimes to a mildly cringe-inducing ‘no don’t run, I promise I’m normal like you!’ way, being entirely honest. But then, one can at least hope that it helps the book actually function as a persuasive text instead of so much elegant preaching to the choir.

[kiefbowl]

this post is kinda inspired by the recent developments of 4b usa, but also just me musing in real time over what I've seen on tumblr over the past decade or so. I think the internet is a cool tool bc it's possible to get a message out to large numbers of people quickly...if you have the platform. and I think sometimes that can convince people, like say young feminists, that successful organizing is going viral and getting a lot of ppl to quickly and publicly voice their agreement to insert whatever the thing is. I can see why small, community organizing with, like, the six people you already know sounds so hard and time consuming when you can see posts sometimes blow up into the hundreds of thousands in a very short amount of time.

but engagement in an internet post is not great data into how many people are actually engaging with it at a level you might hope, and if you really want to control the message of your insert whatever the thing is, you do kinda have to start at home with the six people you already know meeting once a month or whatever trying to get another person or two or whatever to join etc etc. and like take what I'll just call 4b usa - it's busted into the mainstream and people are trashing it, right? well instead of despairing, why not, in your immediate circle you already have (even if that's just one other person) just decide on a new name for yourself to call this movement. It's like, I saw a post about how the wiki page is being trashed and someone called it colonization - but usa women lifting the name 4b kinda is that mentality, too, no? I mean we're talking about a korean feminist movement for korean women named 4b because of korean words built off of decades of work by korean women. okay...so you just want to grab it and call it your own? and a shared language, names that mean something, can be very useful, so I get the appeal of just wanting to use the term 4b, and it might seem like "well why should we have to change our language for these men who refuse to understand?" uhm...for the long game. for the survival of the movement and the goals you've set. is the name more important that what the name represents? and low key as part of your private convos you can still use 4b as part of that shared language, right? "me and my friends are going full stop with men, just like 4b. no marriage, no sex, no babies. wanna go full stop with us?" now you're talking like an american who's talking to an american, or like whatever you're trying to do or whoever you are.

don't get so hung up on language that you can't see the end game of your goals anymore. peace&love & good luck :)

[shesadollette]

❝ K-Idol!Horangi ❞

Note: So… as some of you guys may or may not have known, Horangi got into debt with a local crime boss when he was a compulsive gambler and had to flee his home and join the local military before his arc started as the “Horangi” we know now (taken from the official wiki fandom page). Now here, I’d like to expand and dive deeper on his double life as both a military contractor and an underground indie artist within the timeframe of his life.

𖧧 He’d be a soloist. A rapper to be specific.

𖧧 Picture the vibes of BewhY, Big Matthew from KARD, Felix from Stray Kids, Agust D, and so forth.

𖧧 He gives off those ruggish downtown boy vibes that’s usually known and could be told apart for the visuals, music style/aesthetic, and unique range.

𖧧 His fondness of implementing cultural elements whether lyric or beat-wise with modern music is quite conspicuous. He finds adding sounds of traditional Korean instrumentals in his beats and to add references of his hometown in his lyrics to be endearing and an integral part of who he is.

𖧧 He’s quite a small artist and a private one at that. Only wishing for his listeners to see him for his art and not as who he really is outside of that.

𖧧 (I’m still kinda unsure what his stage name should be. Should it be “Horangi” too? Or should he want to use another name instead?)

𖧧 His music journey started when he wanted to make some money while being caught in the deep end.

𖧧 When he had first started out, he found it overwhelming and impossible to put his voice out there within the voices of many groups and soloists already making it big.

𖧧 Horangi being Horangi, he pushed through the waters anyway and dared to publish his first practice beats on SoundCloud, not expecting much anyway.

𖧧 A first then became a second. A second merged into a third. It took the fellow a good while to finally include vocals into some of his songs as well as gaining a few listeners along the way.

𖧧 All this he did as a side hustle while planning to enlist in the Republic of Korea Armed Forces to flee from his home, his family, and the anticipating creditors.

𖧧 Timeskip to when he finally found himself and his life’s purpose as the current Horangi.

𖧧 Not long after, he joined KorTac as a contractor. That is when he met König.

𖧧 The two couldn’t really interact much. Or rather, wouldn’t. With König already having social anxiety and Horangi determined to succeed on his job, they could merely greet and uplift one another like ordinary teammates would.

𖧧 Such was the norm until one day…

𖧧 “Man, today’s been a blast! A blast yet exhausting day. An exhaustingly blasting day? Anyway, König, what do you usually do to wind down, big guy?”

𖧧 “Hm… I usually listen to some music.”

𖧧 “Oh really? What kind?”

𖧧 “Uh… metal and rock I suppose…?”

𖧧 “Ah, I see I see…”

𖧧 *Gets flashbacks to his early days when he first started on his music journey*

𖧧 “You know, funnily enough, I just remembered that I used to make music before enlisting in the military.”

𖧧 “Oh yeah?”

𖧧 “Yeah. It was nothing much. Just um… a side hustle, if you would call it. I wasn’t like a big artist or anything, just a small one. An indie artist if you will.”

𖧧 “I see…”

𖧧 Horangi then endeavored to log into his old SoundCloud account… only to discover that he had around hundreds of monthly listeners and each of his few songs getting hundreds and if lucky, then a thousand plays.

𖧧 Not completely a 180° to when he first started his journey, but it was more than he had expected since the beginning of his career.

𖧧 He then endeavored to get back to making music during his time off, doing market research to find out what the listeners wanted, exploring alternative music genres, mashing up beats, expanding his vocal range, you name it, he was genuine and actively getting into it.

𖧧 Eventually, he became more confident in putting himself out there, and started posting his music on other platforms, building up his portfolio.

𖧧 And that’s when he began gaining recognition. He remembers the time he got his first comment leading up to his first fan mail.

𖧧 Then there’s König.

𖧧 Horangi endeavored to bring it up again one day, “Yo man, remember that one time I mentioned that I was an indie artist?”

𖧧 “Uh… kind of? Why?”

𖧧 “So you see… I’ve kind of gotten a little group of fans but, no labels have offered me to sign with them yet but could you imagine mate? I’ve got uh… what do they call it again? A ‘fandom’, so to speak?”

𖧧 “Uh-huh? And where are you going with this?”

𖧧 “All I’m saying is that I’m kind of famous now,” he grinned behind his mask. “You could um, probably give it a listen sometime, yeah? If you want, no pressure of course man.”

𖧧 “No guarantees though.”

𖧧 Yet he found himself going through pages dedicated by Horangi’s fans during his time off, his interest won over the fandom he had stumbled upon calling themselves FIERCE.

𖧧 He may had also given his music a chance. Perhaps once. Perhaps even twice. Perhaps he had lost count. Perhaps in his personal life outside the military grounds. Perhaps he had found himself unconsciously playing his music in the background while getting lost in his hobbies.

𖧧 Maybe, just maybe… Horangi may have reached an integral part of somebody’s life through his voice.

guys, imagine an AU where horangi is actually a kpop idol as a side hustle other than his military job……….🧍‍♀️(if somebody ever picks up this idea pls make it a korangi ship AU too? 👉👈)

[broken-synchronicity]

Since Twisted Wonderland's language "Common" is the equivalent of Japanese, & the foods Grim mentioned are typical foods that one can find in Japanese convenience stores, wouldn't it be safe to assume that the culture & customs are Japanese as well?

Like, if the students celebrate Halloween, they probably just dress-up in costumes & decorate the dorms. No "trick-or-treat" because Japanese people have this strong "no bothering/disturbing/cause inconvenience to others" mentality - so no collecting sweets, candies & chocolates by knocking doors from one dorm to another.

Or, if the students celebrate Christmas, they would mostly eat fried chicken, because somehow KFC in Japan has a strong association with the holiday, hence why it's a popular choice among Japanese people.

Or if the students celebrate Valentine, it would be still in the traditional sense: because NRC is an all-boys school, most of the students would at least receive chocolates from girls - and they're expected to give those girls back in a month (White Day).

How does Kal explain the American version of these holidays with the language barrier if neither Lilia nor Malleus is around?

I'm fairly certain the only reason there are so many recognizably Japanese things in twst is because it's a Japanese game. But that's very few things in general. Even then, during the Prologue we had the pair of bullies try and start something with us over Carbonara, and Azul has squid ink pasta for lunch during his arc, decidedly Italian dishs. Mont Blanc, despite its heavy popularity in Japan, is still very French in origin. Just because there are Japanese snacks in a school store, doesn't mean everything is so decidedly Japanese.

Holiday wise we had:

The Halloween event states that each area is a stamp collection point for a stamp rally they're doing to collect a prize for at the end of a circuit through the school grounds, which would be in replacement of actual trick or treating since there's no way any school would shell out for that much candy for that many guests over the course of a week even if it's only 7 points of collection, and no child only picks up 7 pieces of candy during trick or treat. Also, haunted houses are a thing.

All the students go home for winter break, so there's almost no way to know what or how they celebrate winter holidays if they do, and both the Ghosts and Crowley list/give us a pretty standard European Christmas fair with a cooked turkey and gingerbread house

Masquerades are EXTREMELY European, even if the idea of donning a mask during spooky season isn't wholly

There are hundreds of festivals, not just holidays, that hold the main point of a Firework display as the highlight, so the Scarabia event is hardly isolated

Literally the only vaguely Japanese-esque holidays was the Wish festival and Bean day, but that's it. And they both were VERY round about in their presentation, making them easily holidays that could pass anywhere else that held those similar stories the holidays were based off of (Pinocchio and Jack and the Bean Stalk.)

There's no way to know how or even if there's a Valentines day equivalent since we're never getting such an event, so there's no way to say how any of the boys go about it.

As for Japanese being the "Common" language, that's just literally what I call it in LiT. It's got a historical reason that I haven't gotten to in my story, but that's just what I call it.

They might not actually be speaking Japanese in-game, that's just how it comes across to the MC, Yuu, who is Japanese, since in-game it's stated that there's a translator spell cast over school grounds because all the students don't actually speak a common language.

Sorry if this got ranty, but twst, despite being so thoroughly Japanese, doesn't at all lean very heavily into it for the very reason it's a Disney Fantasy Game, it's picked up all these Non-Japanese fairytales and needed to represent that, not their own culture.

[starzalign]

I feel like the creators & editors must be on different pages ab syd and carmy bc how are you going to show us glaringly obvious romantic scenes n then say the opposite?? Honestly I think they’re tryna gauge our reaction before doing anything official

[guinevereslancelot]

being the youngest person at work is being the honorary IT specialist despite knowing basically nothing abt technology except how to use google

[woozymitts]

When you're building a fantasy world and you need to make a conlang but you don't know shit about linguistics and you already have 9834893985439 other things to do for your project

[schoolhater]

answering a couple questions i got on this post since i realized ppl genuinely wanna know:

tl;dr:

israel lets very, very little aid get into gaza. even the UN can't get in as much as they want to. funding individual families, gazan led initiatives, and mutual aid collectives operating out of gaza ensures gazans can provide for themselves and pay for the extremely expensive aid that is available.

with all the civil infrastructure destroyed by israel, the situation on the ground has devolved into unrestricted capitalism, driving up the price of aid (that should be free!). this makes it more urgent for people to have funding for daily survival.

the post linked above has examples of how donating to individual families can help a lot. if you want to help more than one family at a time, there are many gazan-led initiatives focusing on rebuilding their infrastructure and distributing aid fairly that are worth donating to instead of large charities that already get the majority of donations.

as i mentioned in the last post: @/careforgaza on twitter is a nonprofit started by gazans, it's been endorsed by multiple palestinian journalists.

the sameer project is a collective organized by diaspora palestinians offering emergency shelter to gazans.

ele elna elak is a project aiming to bring water, food, shelter, etc. to gazans and has been promoted by bisan owda.

and the municipality of gaza itself is fundraising to rebuild water infrastructure.

all of these organizations are active inside gaza right now and are being run by gazans. if anyone knows of other gazan-led mutual aid projects, nonprofits or charities feel free to link them in the notes! hope this helped!

long answers under the cut!

if you wanna donate to a charity that's absolutely fine, but the thing is most charities (and even the UN!) are unable to make it into gaza in the first place, leaving aid rotting at the egyptian side of the border or subject to israeli settler attacks

not to mention, charities and nonprofits also maintain a paternalistic colonial relationship with the indigenous people they are trying to help, determining what aid they need for them instead of returning power to them and letting them make their own choices

i'm not here to say that one option is better than the other, just that they achieve different things and are equally legitimate. there's an attitude among people who question the legitimacy of these gofundme campaigns that somehow the people promoting them are telling them not to donate to charities. nobody is stopping you from donating to charities. we are just asking that you do not dehumanize the very real gazans in your inbox just because their method of asking for aid is more direct and risky.

unfortunately that's exactly what has happened. because israel destroyed all of gaza's more formalized infrastructure, it seems that organized crime and rampant inflation has taken its place. aid is supposed to be free, but in order to save for evacuation or the cost of living, people have started selling them at an inflated price. and aid that is truly free attracts intense, large crowds that are dangerous to navigate.

this was posted on abc a few days ago

it's pure, unrestrained capitalism. i've had multiple palestinians describe this situation to me confidence. that's why everything's so expensive now. why people have to rent out tiny plots of land for their tents to sit on, why my friend @siraj2024 still has to buy tarps to cover the broken windows of the overpriced bombed out apartment he rented, and why a bag of flour can cost a thousand bucks in the north.

even before israel closed and then bombed the rafah crossing, the egyptian hala travel agency was only allowing people to cross the border if they paid a hefty $5000 USD per adult / $2500 USD per child bribe. it denies doing this, but the hundreds of stories from palestinians say otherwise.

with regard to the economy, here in america we saw something similar happen in the wake of hurricane helene and milton. the podcaster margaret killjoy describes how she saw dual economies rise after asheville was fully cut off from the rest of the country - some people offered each other supplies for free in a sort of mutual aid honor system, and some people required payment when they lent supplies because they themselves needed to buy stuff for their families. these dual economies exist in gaza too. and this means they all still need money to survive.

[foone]

Bad idea: Age gap discourse but in a fantasy land where there's multiple races who have vastly different lifespans and life styles.

Is it wrong for a 27 year old human to date a 140 year old stone elf, considering most stone elves don't get out of diapers till their 30s?

Is it wrong for a 80 year old dwarf to date a two year old fire wisp, when fire wisps only live up to 5 years (between the eruptions) and have memories of their past lives, so in a way they're "born" at age 400,000+? That octogenarian dwarf is way younger than the fire wisp that's only physically younger than some of the socks the dwarf has!

Is it wrong for a chronomancer who was never born to date, well, anyone? They are zero years old and infinity years old and negative one hundred and seventeen years old all at once. They look like an old human, sure, with the long white beard and the wrinkly skin, but as far as anyone can tell, they've always looked like that. We've seen the cave paintings.

Is it wrong for a 30 year old lizardman (that's old in lizardman years) to date a human who is 60 years old in biological years (because of aging spells), 26 years old in lived-experience years, but only 13 years old in calendar years? (ie, they were born 13 years ago, but spent some of that time in sideways timelines, so they've lived more years than have passed in their home timeline?)

Is it wrong for a 12,000 year old dragon date a pile of 400 kobolds when kobolds only live like 10 years on average, but reach full maturity in one year? And if you disagree, can you do anything about it? You do know what happened to the last policeman who tried to arrest a dragon, right? Their city is still smoldering, 50 years later.

Is it wrong for anyone to date the time worm? It's the same age, every year. So the age gap can only intensify. If you start dating the time worm when you're both the same age, when do you break it off because you've become too much older than them?

And most confusing of all... What about the fairies? They could be anything between a thousand and a day old, they would lie about their age either way, and they can look like whatever they want. There's fairies we know for a fact have been around since the founding of The City of Towers, who met the silent mother herself, and also look like they're at most ten years old. Is it wrong to date them, or just really uncomfortable for everyone who sees it? And on the other side there's fairies who are "born" (hatched? They come from plants, I'm not sure what the verb even would be. Seeded? Sprouted, maybe) this week who are already appearing like middle-aged men and dancing with widows in what looks like a scheme to run off with her fortune but they never take the money, because what would a fairy want with worthless metal discs? Maybe fairies have a hive mind or genetic memory or reincarnation with full memories, they'd never tell you or give you a straight (or consistent) answer anyway.

Stonefolk are really the only inter-race dating situation anyone can agree on. They're unthinking & unmoving solid rock during the day, so those hours don't count. Thus their "real age" is a nice even half of their true age. So if you meet a stonefolk who was dug out 30 years ago, watch out: that's a 15 year old, and if you're a 25 year human, that's too young for you, even though their dig-date is five years before your birth-date.

EDIT: 2024/01/12: Changed the name of the Stonefolk

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[jlheon]

𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) — psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓯renemies to lovers ; fluff, profanity, & lots of kissing (𝔀ordcount) one-thousand five-hundred forty 𝓹eng's note. these pics. #iWantThat 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon

“you’re late,” sunghoon says in the most agitating voice possible as you walk through the classroom door.

“i wouldn’t be late if you did your job,” you huff, walking right up to the desk he sat at and dropping the bags of decorations you had picked up from the party supplies store.

“hey! i said i would pick those up!” he says annoyed, sifting through everything you brought.

“mrs. kim said we needed them by today! why the fuck were you just sitting around?” 

“geez, loosen up,” the boy gets up from his seat, his tall body looming over yours. “let’s just go decorate the gym.”

the two of you split up the bags of party supplies and headed towards the gym where the rest of the council and student volunteers were waiting. 

setting up for the fundraiser was easy until you and sunghoon started yelling at each other over which color streamers should be used over the doorway. 

jake had to drag you away by the shoulders to come to help him with the balloons. sunghoon felt a bitter taste when he saw jake with his arm around your shoulder but decided to ignore it. 

“hoon,” jungwon calls out. “we’re out of balloons!”

“that’s why i should have bought the decorations…” sunghoon mutters under his breath before walking up to where you and jake were giggling. 

sunghoon walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. “we have to go back to the store.” he whispers in your ear. 

you freeze at his touch but nod and say goodbye to jake. he lets go of you and the two of you walk out the exit leading to the parking lot.

the two of you get into sunghoon’s car and he drives off to the mall. 

there’s an awkward silence between the both of you, which you can’t decide if you like bantering with him over it. there’s so much tension due to sunghoon’s lingering touch from earlier.

once inside the mall, you quietly walked side by side into the automatic doors. 

only a few feet from the party supplies stores you halt. spotting your ex-boyfriend and old friend seemingly on a date.

“sunghoon,” you whisper, tapping on his shoulder. “do you see what i see?”

he rolls his eyes at you finally breaking the silence but then looks up to see for himself. once he does that the two seem to have had the same idea, making eye contact with the other.

“oh shit they saw us,” he panics, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the photo booth you were conveniently standing next to.   

the photo booth is small. way too small. sunghoon is already sitting as you uncomfortably sit on the ledge with your legs peeking out from the curtain. 

“get up,” he instructs. 

“what?” you raise an eyebrow. “i’m not letting them see me again! especially not with you!”

“i meant like come here,” sunghoon grabs you and settles you on his lap, so the both of you fit into the small space.

“oh my god, what if they come over here!” you panic resting your hands on his shoulders. “this is bad! especially since i’m with you of all people-”

“with me?” sunghoon questions. 

“well, like when we were dating, he always thought you had a crush on me, which isn’t impossible! i had to keep reassuring him but he never believed me! like me and you are barely even friends-” you ramble, balling sunghoon’s shirt in your fists as you freak out. 

“woah, calm down,” he tells you, prying your hands from his uniform so you don’t wrinkle it. “it’s not like they’ll come to talk to us.”

just as the words left his mouth the sound of two sets of footsteps were picked up by your ears. you started to become overwhelmingly nervous. it was the first time seeing your ex-boyfriend since the split and the fact your childhood best friend was on a date with him. 

even if you drifted, shouldn’t she have some sense of girl code?

“you’re shaking,” sunghoon stares at you. 

“no i’m not!” you shake your head, your heartbeat being undeniably fast. “but like i haven’t had a date since him and that’s kind of sad for me-”

“i swear i saw her,” the familiar voice of your old friend says, sounding so close. “it could have been anyone though.”

“no, i saw her and that motherfucker,” your ex hisses. 

“wow, i’m ‘motherfucker’,” sunghoon whispers, rolling his eyes.

“if he made a move on her i swear.”

“hey, i have an idea,” he says in your ear. 

sunghoon reaches for his phone out of his pocket, holding you close as he leans over slightly to pay the machine for a photo. the screen activates after processing his card and he selects a random frame. 

the camera starts going and you sit confused as sunghoon starts posing. you can’t help but watch him. he always looks pretty but you must admit he knows how to pose. 

you peek over to the curtain to see two pairs of legs standing outside the photo booth. you can only assume it’s them. 

“you weren’t looking in any of them,” sunghoon recalls, pressing print on the screen. 

“oh, sorry,” you turn your attention back to him. 

“it’s fine, let's do another one,” he says nonchalantly as he pays for another photo strip.

this time sunghoon shifts in his spot, making it so that your face can be seen on the screen without having to turn you around in his lap.

you awkwardly copy sunghoon’s poses until by the second to last picture you hear him again.

“that fucker is in the photo booth,” the male voice outside says, seeing as he drops the photo strip back into where it fell from. 

“come closer,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“fine,” you lean onto him. “but don’t show my face too much. i’m not wearing concealer today.”

“you look just as pretty,” sunghoon leans closer so your lips barely brush the others. “maybe even prettier than usual.”

he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, gently stroking it before closing the gap. 

you hate to admit it but kissing sunghoon was everything you expected and more. you’ve caught yourself daydreaming about his lips on yours during one-on-one meetings in the conference room. when his hair is still damp from his after-shower practice and his face is still slightly flushed.

park sunghoon can make you mad, especially when he got secretary over you in freshman year. but you cannot deny that even when bitter about the council's choice you wanted to kiss that proud smile on his face. 

he made you mad when he stole your posters when you were running for secretary again the next year. but after he found you crying in the far stairwell he explained he only did that because he thinks you should run for president instead. sunghoon even pulled out another stack of flyers he made for you that he spent the whole night doing.

the sunghoon that got you both kicked out of a council meeting for arguing with each other is the same sunghoon with his lips molded perfectly against yours. 

the same boy that had you studying your ass off when class ranks came out, since he’s your only competition, is the same boy in front of you now with his lips locked on yours.

you start to feel dizzy by the decreased amount of air in your lungs by the minute but you can’t bring yourself to let go just yet. when you start seeing black specs dotting your vision you finally pull away to see a heavily panting sunghoon with a flushed face. 

“sorry,” sunghoon apologizes as he catches his breath.

your heart sinks. he only kissed you to distract you and probably so your ex will see the photos when they print.

“oh,” you fight the frown threatening to appear on your face. “it’s okay. he’s probably gone now.”

“i would have asked for your permission but you looked really stressed and i thought it would help you get your mind off your asshole ex.”

“thanks,” you say with a pout sunghoon finds adorable.

“you still seem sad,” he pokes at your sides, making you squirm in his hold. “maybe another kiss?”

“maybe,” you say shyly. 

sunghoon is out forty dollars by the time you and he are done kissing in the photo booth. he kept mindlessly swiping his card as his lips stayed on yours to prevent anyone from kicking you two out since you were there for a considerable amount of time.

you’re interrupted by sunghoon’s phone ringing profusely. 

“where are you two?” jungwon asks in a panic. “we need those balloons.”

“traffic,” sunghoon says as you plant a line of kisses down his neck, hands tangled in the hair at his nape.

“hurry up,” jungwon advises him.

you and sunghoon return to school an hour and a half after you originally left. with a bag of balloons and a stack of photo strips. most of them capturing purely just of you two making out.

when stepping foot in the gym and you go over to hand jungwon the balloons he so desperately needed. he quickly notices the matching hickeys forming on both your necks and how disheveled your uniforms and hair appear.

“traffic huh?” jungwon asks as his eyes flicker between both of you.

"lots," you nod as you walk away to help minjeong tie balloons.