#this is the most consistent I've ever been

[futchmemes]

i know it's not a great time financially for most people right now, but i've still had a lot of people reaching out for help so i want to boost their campaigns in the event that anyone is able to give. campaigns are linked on their names to cut down on the post length.

Farah @elegantkidpuppy reached out on behalf of her family in Al-Zawaida. her brother has suffered an amputation and is in urgent need of medical care. she intends to finish her degree in computer science to help her family start over. #310 on the gaza-evacuation-funds list. £8,721/10,000

Amal @amalalkafarna18 reached out on behalf of her young son Mohammed(5), who has been severely injured in a drone strike and needs care outside of Gaza. she is traveling with her husband and other two small children (7 and 1) along with another young family consisting of 3 siblings (26, 16, and 4) who were separated from their parents. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. $2,278/5,000

Amal @familgazaamal1's infant nephew has nerve damage and a severe injury to his foot due to the shelling and needs treatment urgently. her father was in Egypt on October 7th and has been separated from his family since the border crossing closed. Amal is trapped with her mother and 3 brothers, as well as her infant nephew whose mother is also in Egypt. #55 on the gazavetters list. $10,205/30,000

Lina @leena-112's husband, 2 sons, and daughter have lost their home and place of work. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. €130/30,000

Mosab @mfamily reached out asking for help supporting his wife, his father, his brother, and his baby daughter, who is less than 6 months old. his extended family's 3-floor home was bombed early in the attacks, killing 26 of his extended family members. #309 on the gazavetters list. €2,623/20,000

Abdul @abdalrahim88 (warning for blood in his fundraiser images) is a pastry chef and trains young people to enter the restaurant industry. his home and restaurant were both destroyed and he is now living with his wife, children (2 sons), mother, father, brothers, uncle and his wife in a tent. one of his sons sustained injuries to his spine and skull and is still suffering in the hospital. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. €152/80,000

Etaf @etafpalestine1, her husband, and her 5 children have evacuated to Egypt, but they are still in need of support as they rebuild from scratch and try to send their children back to school. #9 on gaza-evacuation-funds' list, #1120 on the Butterfly Effect Project's list, and #88 on gazavetters' list. €11,450/100,000

Amira @amira-nimer is a 23-year-old data science student whose father passed due to coronavirus, and has been taking care of her diabetic mother ever since. she has been displaced by the destruction of her home and her university and is currently living in a tent with her family in Deir al-Balah. vetted. €32,703/39,000

Imithal @imtithalcrusadecreator is a dentist from gaza who is currently displaced with her extended family of 35, mostly children. she has already lost her brother. vetted. €8,067/50,000

Ahmed @ahmedmohammeds-blog is a recent journalism graduate from Khan Younis who has been displaced 4 times by airstrikes. he hopes to raise money for necessities for his family, as well as for his brothers' educations and to replace his lost camera, which he needs for his journalism career. unvetted but images are unique and his donations are protected. €120/30,000

Shima @shimabshahin and her husband and three children have lost their home and have been displaced multiple times. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. €823/60,000

Louay @nerdyzombiecoffee suffers from health issues including increased electrical activity in his body and stunted growth. he is trying to raise money to purchase a warm tent and winter clothes for his family. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. £336/30,000

Rana @ranafamily7 is a 14-year-old wheelchair user living with her mother and siblings in a small, structurally damaged house in Gaza. her father has been separated from them and is living in a tent in southern Gaza. she is raising money for necessities including medical care. #250 on the gazavetters list. €3,142/50,000

Noura @nouraayman is a young mother who was forced to flee to Egypt with her husband, baby daughter, mother, and father-in-law. she and her husband both studied at Al-Shifa hospital as medical lab specialists, but have been uprooted and no longer have income to pay for her father-in-law's kidney cancer treatment. on top of that, her other family members including her 85-year-old athsmatic father and teenage siblings are still trapped in Gaza and need funds to escape. vetted. €5,430/50,000

Mona @manouche-231 is a housewife with 3 children living in a tent after their house was destroyed in the bombardment. #253 on the gazavetters list. €1,430/50,000

Mohammed @mohammednasser is a 17-year-old high school student who has been displaced with his mother and 7 siblings after their home was destroyed. after evacuating, he intends to continue his studies. unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. €7,960/38,000

Ola @abedallhferwanagaza's husband reached out on behalf of his wife. he was in Egypt on the day the attacks started, and has been separated from his wife and 3 children in Gaza ever since. he hasn't been able to meet his youngest daughter, born during the attacks, in person yet. Ola and her 3 children have been suffering liver problems as a result of the unclean water and unsanitary conditions. #60 on the gazavetters list, #964 on the Butterfly Effect project's list. €19,210/35,000

Lana @ali-gaza's father is severely injured and their mother is in need of lengthy medical treatment. their family home was destroyed. #307 on the gazavetters list. $522/25,000

Tareq @tareqayad1 needs funds for himself and his 12 family members, including several small children, to escape to Egypt. they have been displaced multiple times and have no income due to their family house painting/maintenance business being destroyed and an unstable internet connection preventing remote work. Tareq's father is chronically ill and his brother has dwarfism; both of them need urgent care. #160 on the gazzavetters list, #599 on the Butterfly Effect project's list, #95 on PaliLiberation's list. $19,487/92,900

Bassam @bassamsameh reached out on behalf of his family by sharing his brother Fouad and his brother's wife Roba's campaigns. Bassam's educational technology company and Fouad and Roba's solar energy company have both been destroyed, leaving their collective family of 17 without income, including a baby daughter under 1 year old. both unvetted but images are unique and donations are protected. €2,072/35,000 and €2,991/10,000

Yossef @yosef-gaza111 is a young accountant who lost his home and job as he evacuated his home with his family of 12. He intended to marry his fiance, a software engineering student, in 2024, but she evacuated to another area of Gaza with her family. his mother is in desperate need of an operation that her family cannot afford. #251 on the gazavetters list. $1,382/30,000

[branwinged]

dragon discussions are usually about the dualism of dragonfire's destructive capabilities and fire as an element of life in the fight against eternal winter, which is also what i've focused on before. but reading fire & blood rn and realising their ability to fly is an overlooked aspect of the way dragons are being used in the story. flight in f&b serves two major purposes. dragons are, of course, their main claim to power, dragons made them kings. flight then becomes a way of placing them quite literally above the rest of the population because they're not simply nobility, they're royalty. flight also signifies a disregard for all enclosure—it's the way aegon, rhaenys, and visenya begin the conquest by effortlessly flying inside castle walls. emphasised most in the burning of harrenhal ("Those walls are strong and thick" / "But not so high as to keep out dragons. Dragons fly.") —flight here is put to use as both invasive entry and a show of dominance as aegon takes balerion and descends well within castle walls to set harrenhal ablaze. but this goes both ways, because the castle also signifies (gendered) entrapment. which is why flying is consistently described as the one great love of a great many targaryen women, because on dragonback they're the equals of targaryen men, capable of fulfilling the same role in warfare. but back on ground they're eventually expected to fall back into the gender roles demanded of them (and i think hotd's opening is doing both with rhaenyra. she's a targaryen princess and the privilege of flight is hers alone, contrasted with alicent remaining on ground. and rhaenyra is free and wild and happy in the air, but two scene changes later, on ground and inside castle walls, aemma tells her she's destined for the birthing bed)

in the main series flight is always, unsurprisingly associated with freedom, and not simply from gendered expectations, because unlike her royal ancestors dany's life has been defined by dispossession. forced out of her home and on the run, under the primary care of an abusive brother until that brother sells her for an army—dany has never truly known material safety or independence. which is why flight is the great appeal of her dragon dreams in agot (Flying, she thought. I had wings, I was flying. But it was only a dream) and something first made obvious with silver, the horse drogo presents her with at their wedding.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.”

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

silver represents the modicum of freedom she acquires through their marriage. yes, she is thirteen and is sold to drogo as his property and he rapes her nightly, but her status as khaleesi is what finally frees her from viserys. drogo kills him not out of any particular love for her, but because viserys threatens to hurt the mother of his child. silver is a symbol of that protection drogo provided but being khaleesi won't truly liberate her—she loses everything the moment drogo dies. but what does free her in the end is her dragon dreams.

She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that [red] door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door. And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. “The last dragon,” Ser Jorah’s voice whispered faintly. “The last, the last.” Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

it's interesting the way the red door in the house with the lemon tree is meant to be her version of security and stability and personal freedom, that's home. when she imagines king's landing she imagines every door painted red. but what she finds within once she opens the door is herself. perhaps then, home for her is not a material location she must look for. instead security and freedom for daenerys is her identity as the last targaryen, the last dragon and when she understands that truth (the fire is mine), she walks into that pyre and sets herself free.

it's not yet a role she's entirely, unhesitatingly stepped into. adwd is the book in which dany struggles most with her targaryen heritage, represented in the way she locks away her dragons once drogon eats that little girl, but the solution doesn't lie in rejecting it. chaining the dragons led to her own entrapment in meereen, which is why drogon appearing in the fighting pits is so obviously a rescue. what she must to do is redefine what it means to be a dragon, and i think she will, she's already halfway there in the way dragons and the magic they embody are being redeemed through dany righting the wrongs of her valyrian ancestors. flight as a symbol of dehumanising oppression in the freehold with the dragonlords in the sky as the slaves toiled away in the mines underground vs flight now as a symbol of enduring hope and freedom for the dispossessed.

[violetsrxse]

Meet Cute of a Lifetime | Vi x Reader

Summary - When sleeping in leads to you visiting your regular coffee shop later than usual and forgetting your wallet at home, your day proves to be more interesting than expected when a generous stranger offers to pay for your coffee.

Word Count - 1,040

CW - Just fluff, no use of Y/N, fem!reader, Vi is taller and she's a sweetheart as per usual, Modern AU, coffee shop meet cute

A/N - This fic is set roughly 3 years before my 'Just Tell Me When' fic but it's not necessary to read them in order or together at this point!

A/N #2 - I hope everyone enjoys this! Also never feel shy to send me asks with different concepts for this AU or any other you can think of, I'd love to hear them!

Modern Chef!Vi Masterlist

-

The first thing you hear when shaking off the haze of sleep is a soft but consistent knocking on your door accompanied by the voice of your mother telling you to wake up. Glancing over at the clock on your nightstand causes you to shoot out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor in your haste.

You’ve somehow managed to sleep through all of your alarms. Most likely because of how late you'd been up the night before studying for the upcoming end of term exam.

Truth be told, college had been beating your ass lately. You suppose this is just one of the effects.

"I'm up!" You call to your mother, cursing under your breath as you rub your eyes in an attempt to shake off your sleepiness. Opening your closet, you quickly settle for a fuzzy blue sweater, some lined leggings for warmth and an easy hairstyle that keeps it out of the way.

You hardly have the chance to say good morning to your parents before you’re rushing out the door into the cold, dry December air, shoving your headset over your ears and beginning a swift walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away.

Shaking off the chill, you admire the Christmas decorations on the houses on your way, the blown up Santa Claus in your neighbors yard, the Christmas lights, beautiful even unlit, and finally the wreaths adorning nearly every door.

You only stop once to pet the fluffy brown cat with a white nose and paws that you see nearly everyday. She doesn’t have a collar, nor have you seen her going in or out of any of the houses on your street. So you’re pretty sure she’s a stray, but you haven’t managed to convince your parents to let you take her home no matter how much you beg and plead.

As you reluctantly part from your fluffy friend, you shiver at the biting cold and can't help but worry that she's also feeling the effects of the weather. But you push forward, nearing a street lined with a variety of different shops and of course, your favorite coffee shop.

It's not five minutes later when you come up to the entrance of the coffee shop, groaning at the long line you can see from the outside of the window.  

Shaking your head in annoyance and pulling the door open, you're hit with a comforting wave of warmth that melts some of your frustration away. As you glance around, you figure if you're already late you might as well just wait and get your morning coffee.

Who needs art history class anyway?

A slow ten minutes later when you finally reach the counter, you order your usual drink and reach for your wallet only to find your pockets empty.

Cursing softly, you're about to tell the barista to just cancel your order and go to class without your caffeine fix when you hear a voice from behind you.

"I've got it."

Whipping around, you lock eyes with what's got to be the most attractive woman you've ever seen. She smiles kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." Against your own judgement, you begin taking in her features, eyes darting around her face. Her powder blue eyes, plump heart-shaped lips, the scars on her lip and eyebrow and finally, her roman numeral tattoo.

Your cheeks heat when she catches you staring.

"I don't mind," Her smile softens and she's already getting her wallet out, zipping it open and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "This should cover it." You watch as she passes the bill to the barista.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it." You sigh heavily, beginning to ramble as she orders her own drink, a classic hot chocolate. "Can't believe I forgot my damn wallet- I was in such a rush to get here I must've left it on my nightstand- but I guess things like that happen when you sleep in. I really appreciate the generosity though! Thank you..." You mentally kick yourself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm totally talking your ear off."

"No, no. It's alright, seriously." She stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets. "And you're welcome, you looked a bit stressed when you came in and I thought maybe I could cheer you up."

The barista calls your name and you eagerly take the cup in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You pop open the lid, inhaling the scent.

"You watched me come in?" Your cheeks heat once more and you reach to unzip your coat a bit.

You hadn't noticed her, but you wish you would've.

"I did... shit, I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable-" The woman's cheeks flush a color similar to her hair and sways on the balls of her feet, boots clunking softly on the tile flooring. "I just thought- think you're really pretty."

"Really?" You blink in surprise, 'cause there's no way this is happening to you right now. "Thank you, and likewise!" You reply awkwardly, kicking yourself again, you're totally blowing this.

The woman chuckles. "Thanks, I'm Vi by the way."

You tell her your name and she nods with a soft smile, taking her coffee from the barista with a soft 'thank you'.

As the both of you step away from the counter, Vi asks: "Would you like to join me? I usually like to hangout here for a bit while I drink my hot cocoa."

You almost shed a tear, because you can't.

"I'd really love to, but I'm actually super late for my first class." You say apologetically. "But, I would definitely be down to another time? Maybe this weekend?" The words are hopeful and they make Vi smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that too." She pulls out her phone. "Wanna exchange numbers?"

You nod enthusiastically, taking the phone and handing her yours simultaneously. Quickly entering your number into her phone, you hand it back.

"Was nice to meet you, Vi."

"You too, pretty girl."

You leave the shop with a wide smile on your face, no longer worried about being late for class. Perhaps sleeping in was a good thing.

You really, really hope so.

-

No one can convince me that Vi would like coffee, maybe tea though? But she's definitely a big fan of hot chocolate.

[eachuisge-cc]

Catsim Lore Thing

Because a few people have asked and that's all the excuse I need to unleash my highly specific brand of neurodivergence on you all. A lot of the non-world-related stuff is lifted/tweaked from my much more in depth cathar headcanon masterpost that I made over on my other blog, because I've been developing those a lot longer and I'm fairly consistent in how I like to operate when it comes to fantasy cat people.

Obviously this is just things I've made up for my own save and what I have in mind when I make cc for them, and nobody else has to care about it. It's just for fun. If you don't like my take on them then forget you ever saw this and do whatever you want. There's no wrong way to use the feline cc well, except reuploading it or paywalling content you've made with it. that is the wrong way to use it.

But I love this shit so you're gonna hear about it anyway.

If you want to make your own or plop some into your world, CC and premade cat townies can be found here.

Biology

They’re not cat/human hybrids or some kind of magical experiment, they’re taxonomically just cats. More specifically they’re a species of felid that evolved to fill an ecological niche usually occupied by hominids the same way hyenas are felids that fill a niche usually occupied by canids. Form followed function and now there’s sapient cat people.

Consequently, like most felids, they have five digits on their forelimbs/arms and four on their hind limbs/legs. Their claws are not retractable because evolution sacrificed that for the extra dexterity of two finger joints and better balance while walking upright.

Their coat genetics work very similarly to domestic cats but with a few curveballs and genes unique to them. Some genes crop up more commonly in particular regions with extremely obvious/predictable distribution, so you'll see a lot of colorpoints in Mt Komorebi, a lot of tiger striped agouti in Tomorang, and a lot of bengal agouti and solids in Evergreen. How did this happen without deliberate color breeding? Don't worry about it they're pretty.

They slot more cleanly into felinae than panthera and can purr but not roar. They don’t meow because talking technically is their meow. Closest relatives would probably be cheetahs or other small wildcats.

They’re more omnivorous than most felines and benefit from eating a fruit now and then but they do still primarily eat meat and can’t subsist on a vegetarian diet. because they’re more omnivorous, most of them can taste sweetness. 

They can’t naturally interbreed with humans or anything else besides Sixam aliens, but I mean it’s the sims and science babies are a thing so in practice it’s probably doable. The tech probably originates from the aliens.

(sidenote, I view Sixam aliens as kind of the citrus trees of kingdom animalia. in that they’ll get down with anything that passes the harkness test and can produce viable hybrid offspring with a staggering number of other species, and are generally kind of biological chameleons)

They mostly don’t find it weird that people keep domestic cats as pets for the same reason humans mostly don’t find it weird that people keep monkeys as pets. I mean, don’t keep a monkey as a pet, but you see what I’m saying. if there was a species of domesticated monkey it would be fine. 

They’re naturally predisposed toward magic and have a higher than average percentage of spellcasters among them. they aren’t more gifted at magic than other species, on average, there are just a lot of them that have some aptitude. 

They don’t have a ton of sexual dimorphism, both males and females can range from very small/slight to very tall/bulky and anywhere in between. 

The main difference is that males generally have much fuller/longer manes (it’s more common to keep them long in Evergreen Harbor, but in other regions they often cut/style them shorter according to broader fashion trends) and females generally grow them much shorter and sometimes don’t have one at all.

They don't have eyebrows. Because there's already fur there.

NSFW Biology

They have very small breasts on average unless actively pregnant/nursing and if the game supported it better, they wouldn’t have them at all most of the time. Because I’m tired of slapping boobs on every humanoid species even when it makes no real sense to do so. You really just don’t see cat people walking around with humungous dobonhonkeros and they don’t sexualize them in the same way some human cultures do.

Their dicks aren’t barbed because Ow, but they do have vestigial non-keratinous bumps that make them look like they are. While they do have a sheath rather than a foreskin they don’t actually retract into it by more than a couple inches when soft. 

Social

As a species they’re very predisposed toward polyamory and less inclined to marry or stay with one partner their entire lives, as with most cats. Their family structures tend to be less fixed and more convoluted than the traditional human idea of a nuclear family as a result, with most kittens being raised communally by varied combinations of partents/aunts and uncles/friends. this makes them somewhat frustrating to manage within the framework of sims 4 gameplay. 

They’re promiscuous by human standards and have fewer hangups about nudity. As a consequence they tend to be fetishized/perceived a certain way by other species. Some find this deeply frustrating and some just kinda shrug and lean into it. Or utilize it to make a killing as escorts/cam models because hey the market is there. 

Look, the fact that I regularly make content for wickedwhims should tell you what my priorities are, in any given save of mine San Myshuno is a den of cyberpunk debauchery and everybody's fucking like maniacs. There's some porn logic going on here.

Relationship to the world

They aren’t really native to whatever plane of existence the sims world is in. Originally their species came from another world and entered the one they inhabit now via the magic realm. The population that immigrated was later cut off from their world of origin (or the world itself may have fallen to some sort of calamity, they have no way of knowing at this point) but were able to integrate into their new home pretty successfully. That was many generations ago and the kind of thing the current population reads about in history books, and has absolutely no bearing on anything. but for some reason I needed to know this. and now all of you have to know this. 

They have, however, always been seen as outsiders by the human population and the mindset has persisted to varying degrees throughout history, even though nobody alive today would possibly remember a time when they weren’t around. 

Because of this history, they’re well known for moving into abandoned places and/or ghost towns formerly occupied by humans and making them their own, the most recent example being Evergreen Harbor, which currently has by far the largest population of cat people relative to other species. They’re largely self-governed due to the nature of the place (though they do put in the effort to actually govern themselves, this isn’t a New Hampshire bear town situation) and their work in restoring the area has begun to attract environmental scientists and activists of other species to the town.

Cat people are also a common sight in San Myshuno, where they’re often associated with sex work and the entertainment industry overall. The same is true in Del Sol, though there aren’t nearly as many of them there, and the same reputation tends to follow them to varying degrees anywhere that they aren’t the majority population. To be fair, at least in San Myshuno the reputation isn’t really unwarranted. 

[shyphonics]

Salad Days Chapter 3: When I was born, my mama cried, and picked me up with gloves.

(babypunk!Rodrick Heffley x reader)

part one | part two | part four

I wanna be stereotyped

I wanna be classified

I wanna be a clone

I want a suburban home

Suburban home

Rodrick wakes unusually early, 8 AM, still feeling weird. The rest of the band are still asleep. He grabs a beer from the fridge because, fuck it, nobody can tell him not to.

Getting shows is harder than he’d expected. He’s nervous, but he has to keep up a front, for the sake of the band. If he tells them he’s worried that they’ll never get a show, they might just give up. He can’t let on that there’s any negativity in his mind. He has to be a fearless leader. This has to work. This is their life now. It’s gonna be fucking amazing.

There are seven missed calls from home on his cell phone, and he decides to ignore them a little while longer. He doesn’t feel like talking to his parents, he knows they’d just be disappointed in him. He'd just have to hear about so-and-so from down the street who just got into law school. Or medical school. Or whatever the fuck kind of school.

No matter what he does, he knows he's a failure in their eyes.

Rodrick hadn't had any interest in higher education. He'd figured he didn't need it for the kind of life he was after. No matter how much his parents had guilted him.

He'd felt maybe a teeny, tiny bit guilty when everyone around him got their college acceptance letters. People started cliquing up based on which schools they'd gotten into and everything.

I hope we're dorm mates!

Are you taking psych 101?

Wow, you got a full scholarship?

Fuck off.

At one point, his dad had even caved and said, you can major in music theory!

And what, Frank? Show up to venues all like, here’s my degree! My masters in drums! Give me a show, please?

Yeah, right.

At least he'd had the rest of the band. Through everything, they'd always been on the same page. Always plotting a way out.

He takes a deep chug of his beer and pops his laptop open. He checks The Strike's website, and notices a radio feed in the top corner.

A nasally man's voice comes through his headphones. He's mid-rant, "-because they didn't understand us. And they never have, and they never will. My parents thought I was the devil. My dad loved The Eagles. I hated The Eagles with every fiber of my being. If I could say one thing to my father- and Glenn Frey- right now, it'd be: suck it. Punk never dies."

Rodrick suppresses a laugh as a song starts. He's pretty sure he recognizes it, and the words are really resonating with how he's felt since he left home.

Clicking through The Strike’s event calendar, he almost does a spit take. Friday night. They’ve got a show.

Suck it, Frank and Susan!

“Wake up, fuckers!” he yells, causing bodies to stir around the living room.

“Dude, shut up.” Ben groans from the couch.

“You shut up! We have a show! In 2 days!”

That does the trick, and everyone is up and shouting in celebration, drowning out their downstairs neighbor hitting the ceiling with a broomstick.

His email blinks with a new message:

Let’s see what you got, diaper boy.

~

Gettin’ high with your friends

On the basketball court

Sunglasses on when you sleep

Yeah, that's a sport

They're absolutely decked out. Denim, leather, patches, and studs as far as the eye can see.

You recognize Rodrick from your post at the bar, dressed like an aging member of a hair metal band, desperately clinging to his youth. He’s fumbling with his ID and a pair of dark sunglasses while Jimbo, the bouncer, impatiently crosses his arms. The rest of his band, you assume, make it through easier.

“The show’s in two days! What are you doing here?” you shout, drying a glass with a rag.

They look like a child biker gang, hopped up on sugar.

“Making ourselves known!” one of the others replies. He’s got a high pompadour, and a leather jacket that is entirely too small for him. You chuckle as they all take a seat.

“What’re you havin’?” You toss the rag over your shoulder and meet Rodrick’s eyes.

“Beer?” He says, unsure.

“Type?”

“Uh. Cheap? Cheapest, please.”

“Natty Light. Two bucks. Plus tip.” You wink, rooting around in the fridge under the bar.

“Tip? You got it out of the fridge.” Rodrick raises an eyebrow.

“And I opened it,” you pop the beer open, setting it down hard to make your point.

“Okay, okay. Uh, what’s a tip on that?” He looks panicked, digging in his wallet.

“I’m fucking with you. It’s a two dollar beer.”

He sheepishly hands you three singles, and you tuck the third into your bra. You hate to say it, you really do, but he’s kinda cute. All dressed up to drink shitty beer with his friends. He’s got a nice nose, despite the visible break, and enough eyeliner on to join a family of raccoons. It suits him.

He takes a sip and flinches, “This is awful.”

“If you hadn’t said cheap-est, you woulda had more options!” You laugh.

The rest of the guys order a round of PBRs, a four dollar option, and well whiskey shots.

“Ooh! Classy,” you mockingly fan yourself, “What fine young gentlemen.”

“Hey, how come it’s empty in here?” One of them asks.

“It is…” you check the clock behind the bar, “four pm.”

They stare at you.

“Broad daylight.” You deadpan, setting four shot glasses down on the bar.

The Strike is an old building, all chipped red paint and rickety metal. Rodrick’s eyes linger on a giant sculpture of a flaming match above the bar. Posters from their heyday line the walls: Agent Orange, Circle Jerks, Violent Femmes, Adolescents. There’s a weird song playing; the chord progression seems all out of whack, and from what Rodrick can tell, the singer is chanting suicide, suicide.

“What song is this?”

“You don’t know? it’s your favorite,” you tease, smirking at him.

He’s got nothing. You figured.

“Dead Kennedys, ‘Straight A’s.’ Come on, man. It’s a good one, too. Sixteen on the honor roll, I wish that I was dead. That was me!”

“Whoa. What? What happened?” One of the others asks. He’s got flat ironed blonde hair and big hipster glasses, and his mouth is hanging open.

“Well,” you tilt your head, “Let’s just say my hair and eyebrows have fully grown back, and my parents don’t know my whereabouts. The punks took me in, and I never looked back.”

“What do you mean they took you in?” The one with the shaved head looks at you with genuine concern.

“Okay, so like, this is a bar. People play here. People also play empty buildings, and shitty old houses.”

They’re hanging on your every word.

“I used to run the doors for house shows, collect the five bucks or whatever, stop fights, and then I could sleep in the houses. Then they started paying me, I met my band, I met Mike… and now I’m here!”

You pose, attempting to look successful.

“That’s really cool, but also, like, sad. You don’t talk to your parents?” One of them asks, eyes glittering.

“Don’t need ‘em.” You try to smile reassuringly. You hadn’t meant to bring the vibe down, but hey, they’d asked.

Rodrick’s eyes are fixed on you. His expression is strange. You decide to break the tension.

“You gonna drink that, baby boy?” You tap your fingernail next to his shot.

He looks up at you, lips trembling like they’re trying to form words. His friends are cackling.

“Uh, y-yeah, totally.”

Oh. He’s never taken a shot. None of them have, you realize, as you look down the line and see full glasses.

“C’mon, losers! Take ‘em down! What are you here for?” You holler, channeling your best drill sargent, “I’ll do it with you, fuck it!”

You pour yourself a shot of shit whiskey, raising it in the air, “Let’s go!”

They mirror you and raise their glasses.

“Here’s to Big Rod and The Diapers!”

Gulp. You look around. They’re all puckering their lips and tearing up. You have a brief moment of recovery as well.

You exhale heavily, “Yeah, that’s what happens when you get well liquor. Does a body wrong.”

They laugh, still groaning.

You turn the music up from the big stereo behind the bar, and the guys are all chatting amongst themselves. They seem to be having a great time, and you’re prepping the back of the bar for the small crowd about to pour in at five.

The whiskey hits Rodrick’s head, and he feels pretty goddamn proud of himself. This place is awesome. They have a show here. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and decides he's finally going to call home. Hearing your story had made him actually miss his mom. Maybe she’d even be proud of him.

“I'll be right back,”

His friends wave him off, and he heads into a doorway where the bathrooms are. He dials the number and sighs heavily, shaking off his nerves.

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, hey mom,”

“Rodrick! Oh, thank goodness, did you change your mind? Are you coming home? We can start applying to colleges again, and…”

“What? No, I… I got a show! At a real venue.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed, “Are you getting paid?”

“Wh- I don't know! It's in two days. I'll let you know. Nice to know you're still so supportive, though.”

“I'm just worried about you.”

Rodrick frowns, refusing to speak.

“Do you want me to put dad on?”

“No,” Rodrick scoffs, “tell Greg I say hi.”

He hangs up, standing there, sulking for a moment. Why the hell was he expecting anything different? Don’t need ‘em.

He hears a commotion towards the front of the bar. He peeks around the corner, and sees the bouncer restraining a short, stout guy with a shitty little mustache.

“Lemme go, Jimbo!” he struggles.

“Tony! We told you not to come back here!” You march around to the front of the bar and put your hands on your hips.

“What did I even do?”

“You got broken glass and blood all over the dance floor! You know who had to clean it up?” You're right up in his face, taunting him.

Tony is part of a small group who only come to shows to beat the daylights out of each other. They're sweet when you get to know them, but reckless, and horrible for the bar ecosystem. Last Saturday had been hardcore night, and Tony and his buddies had managed to turn a very respectful pit into an absolute bloodbath.

He's still squirming. The bouncer has him in a full Nelson at this point, he's not doing himself any favors.

“I had to clean up your fucking blood, asshole! That's a health hazard!” You land a light flick on his nose and he grumbles. It's probably broken, and you feel just a little bad. “Not cool!”

Jimbo carries him outside like a child and dumps him on the curb. Rodrick is slowly creeping to the front of the bar, eyes wide. He's cautious, but part of him can't help but think how cool you are.

“Dont come back! Remember what I said, I can put the Hell's Angels on your ass in a second!" The bouncer’s voice booms.

The rest of the band notice Rodrick’s presence and they share a frightened look. This is getting serious.

Jimbo shuts the door and laughs. He's a huge man, mountain-like even. He's got long hair with a beard to match, adorned with rings, like a viking. His laugh does not match how scary he is. He sounds like Santa Claus.

You're laughing too. Jimbo is the perfect bouncer; strong and intimidating, but a total softie underneath. He's the honorary uncle of everyone at The Strike.

“You're a Hell's Angel?!” Ben pipes up, shocked.

“Nah,” Jimbo chuckles, “I just have a beard and a bike. Little fuckers like Tony scare easy, though."

Rodrick feels his heart hurt a little less as everyone around him laughs. He could get used to this. It feels like being in a weird little family.

“Oh boy,” you say quietly, hearing the familiar sound of fuck, fuck, fuck! coming down the stairs. It's Mike.

“What’s goin’ on, Mike?” you ask, grabbing a glass and filling it with seltzer water, topping it with a lime.

“Fuckin, booze delivery Saturday, show Friday! Spring break! Fuckin… frat boys!" His voice is high and nasally. Rodrick immediately recognizes his voice from the radio show earlier.

He chugs the water in one go, and slams it on the counter.

“Mike, we got plenty. All the bottles are at least half full, and the walk-in has, like, fifteen cases of beer.” You say, refilling his glass.

“Frat. Boys.” He repeats, running a hand through his tall, silver hair.

Rodrick grimaces. He really, really hopes none of those frat boys will be from back home.

“Isn't this a punk bar, though?” Ward asks.

Mike moves his head like a meerkat to look at Ward, squinting through his Buddy Holly glasses.

“Who are you? And they don't care! They'll go anywhere there's noise and booze!”

“Alright. Focus. Ideas, solutions,” you try to recenter your neurotic boss.

“They said we could come get it, but that delivery’s not gonna fit in a goddamn ‘94 Corolla.”

Ben leans back from the bar and looks at Rodrick, raising his eyebrows. Rodrick gets it, and smiles back, pointing at Ben.

“We have a van!”

Mike whips around to look at Rodrick.

“Who are you?”

“We’re Löded Diper, uh, sir?” he cringes at his own words.

“Ew. Don’t do that.”

“I don’t know why I did,” Rodrick’s eye twitches, “but we’ll totally get your booze.”

Mike gives him a suspicious glare, then ducks behind the bar to grab a notepad. He scribbles furiously and waves Rodrick over to show him the paper.

“That’s where you go. That’s who you talk to. That’s our order. Be there at 11 AM tomorrow, get it here by 1.”

“We’ve totally got it!” Chris shouts from the bar, making Mike jump.

“Don’t fuck me over!” Mike turns to point at Chris, then makes his way back up the stairs.

You look at Rodrick, mouthing nice! and giving him a thumbs up. He nods, giving you a big grin. It’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him, and it gives you a little flutter in your chest.

Pretty cute.

~

Hold my head, make me warm

Tell me I am loved

Give me hope, let me cry

Make me feel

Give me touch

The guys are all passed out for the night. Rodrick finds the radio feed from earlier and puts his headphones in, laying back on the couch. This time, the host is different.

"This is 98.7, your last independent radio option in a hundred mile radius." A calm, warm voice greets his ears, and he has a pang of recognition.

Is that...?

"I've been thinking about this song a lot today," the host says, "this one's for whoever needs to hear it."

Brain death. Mind death. School damage! Straight A's!

Rodrick sits up. Holy shit. It is you!

He closes his eyes and lets the song take him over. For how dark the lyrics are, it's oddly comforting. Today had really made him feel less alone.

Life isn't just bullshit for him- he'd known that, of course- but now he knows it. He's seen it. He's not a disgrace for going after his dreams.

He's finally in a place where that's not such a crazy idea.

If you're okay, if four other bands are okay... he's gonna be okay. He doesn't need anyone's approval. Fuck 'em.

He lays back as the song ends and another begins, a sense of relief washing over him. Eventually, he falls asleep to the sound of your smooth radio voice mixed with crunchy, old punk demos.

Everything is gonna be okay.

He knows it.

[mimimar]

i've been completely charmed by witch hat atelier♡

(art prints)

[ellystral]

I just watched The Wild Robot movie...

Couldn't cry but my heart feels like this:

The soundtrack was beautiful too and I love Roz's voice so much.

[tuesdayscanons]

Every now and then, I think about The Simpsons RPC and how there's an occasionally a spike of Simpsons muses that inevitably crumbles away and leaves me waiting for the next short lived Simpsons RPC Renaissance

[vaguely-concerned]

nothing makes me feel like a golden god quite like a new recipe turning out delicious on the first try. unfortunately, conversely nothing makes me feel more 'I am god's mistake' than spending all that time and effort on something and having to make a sandwhich b/c the results were inedible if you want to retain your capacity for delight. the duality of home chef

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Please BE EXCITED about stuff you like/ want to be excited about 💞 That's what life supposed to be about, finding joy in the smallest things, in the things we enjoy and love. And the people that judge us for having that joy in our hearts lose their own life, because they spend too much time judging someone else's life instead of doing something with their own. FUCK them

this is one of my favorite asks and i love you

[copia]

this is weird and overly personal but blogging about it anyway. i started a silly project at the end of may this year to exercise every single day (with small exceptions for exams etc) until the first sleep token show - idk why i chose that (i do, it was 'do it for vessel') but having a finite goal is so much easier to work towards than 'i will continue this habit for the rest of my life'. long story short i've done it and i'll continue on even though the first show has passed (do it for papa v this time?) but just saw myself in the mirror in the hotel i'm staying at for the next ritual and jdbdhjdbdj i've got some defined muscle i didn't have this time six months ago thank u vessel

[swampndn]

Um, y'all. I think I'm the main character now or something.

Story time.

So, I'm teaching a class this semester. It's cool. It's great. I love it. Anyway, last week I was walking out with a student, and I was telling her the ways I like to stay grounded in this city, i.e. going to the water as much as I can, finding ways to be on the land. She's also Native and was struggling adjusting to this city. We part ways, and I walk out of the building with a random man who was leaving the same time we were. He opens the door for me, introduces himself briefly, and asks me if I teach here regularly. I tell him I do, just the one class though. He tells me that usually he teaches visual art at a local high school but was guest lecturing on his work in Afro-Futurism and public art for a friend's class. It's pleasant. He's nice. No weird vibes. Felt really normal. He walks me to my car out front. We part ways. Entire exchange lasted maybe 2 minutes.

Well, fast forward to today. He reaches out to me on Instagram. He says that he was thinking about me all week, and he wanted to get to know me better. We go back and forth. He's really sweet, funny, clever, charming, wicked smart, and matches my energy (which is RARE) - he also ain't said a single sexual comment to me. The respect. Also, I ain't gonna lie. He's tall, muscular, and fucking hot. And an artist??? Say less. I wouldn't have been mad about some explicit advances, although my traumatized ass probably would have reacted poorly (involuntarily), so good on him.

I give him my number after he makes a silly little joke that Facebook told him his soulmate is an Aries, and I said that he's in luck because I'm an Aries. Then boom. Dropped the number. (I still got it.)

Tell me why the first thing he texted me was a silly gif of John Cena strutting around then said "this me walking into your life as the luckiest man alive", then asks me on a FULLY PLANNED DATE: a PICNIC AT A LAKE NEAR A BOTANICAL GARDEN because he overheard what I was talking about to my student about last week, AND THEN I learn that he's also Native!!! That's really important to me, and he was telling me all about his family (we're here on his ancestral land, actually). And also he's asking me all about my work, and then straight up broke down how he was feeling about me in such a clear, direct way. He laid out his intentions. He may or may not have said he's gonna marry me, but he was trying to be chill about it 😅🫣

Anyway. This has never happened to me before. I'm like what the literal fuck is going on? Am I too traumatized for this? What is happening???

[weirdnerdygoat]

Oh look, a younger ford blushing picture...

I... may or may not be making something...

[give-me-one-good-reason]

I pretty much never draw Luigi with his hat, and this is not due to design preferences but my complete inability to draw hats with brims. Baseball caps and flatcaps (the Mario Bros.' hats seem to be a middle ground) are the bane of my existence.

[audioaujom]

Sorry gang, no stardew update this week ://

Been too busy getting my CollegeHumor Tangled AU started and also being sick. Oh, and I have no ideas or backlog. But mostly the being sick thing