#we’re doing polls and science

[buddie-or-tevan]

Something I’ve noticed this episode:

I’ve seen two takes on the “your dad’s alive” response from Tommy:

A lot of Tevan shippers saying Tommy was referring to Bobby and reassuring Buck

and buddie shippers saying it was a dismissive comment and was not referring to Bobby, but Phillip.

[alithographica]

Oh no I left my three ancestral citrus species in close proximity and they hybridized

(via Agricole on Wikipedia)

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #3 — The Interrogation

Bright light floods your vision, eliciting a hiss as you repeatedly blink to regain your senses. Shielding your eyes is useless; your hands are pinned tightly behind your back, your wrists already starting to throb.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself tied to a chair, arms and legs bound to the wooden frame with thick rope. A few tugs and attempted kicks lead you to quickly relent that your bindings aren’t budging.

Shaking the fuzz from inside your head, you examine your surroundings.

While most of the room is cloaked in shadows, your chair is illuminated with a bright spotlight, highlighting the laminated flooring beneath your feet. Directly in front of you stands a long bar, perched upon a podium to elevate any individual behind it. The room is completely bare otherwise, giving a cold, clinical appearance.

How in the Aeons’ names did I end up here?

“Ah, you’ve finally regained your senses.”

You jolt, the voice to your left sending gooseflesh across your skin. It’s deep, full of condescension and authority, and almost certainly male. Sweat trickles down your neck.

Confirming your suspicions, a tall, muscular figure steps from the shadows beside you.

Your already rapid heartbeat skyrockets. Despite his scowl, the man is undeniably handsome—golden eyes to complement his dark purple locks, full lips and strong, toned arms on display thanks to his single-sleeved attire. You’d typically be blushing as he grips the back of your chair with one arm and leans down close to your face, if it weren’t for the unwelcome and compromising position you’re in.

You struggle to swallow. “I—um, sir, there must be some mistake—”

“You are (Y/n) (L/n), are you not?” he interrupts. His breath, minty with a touch of sage, tickles your nose as he closes the gap between the two of you even further.

“Um, yes…?” You cringe at how pathetic you sound, but really, how else are you supposed to react when a stranger has you apparently kidnapped and tied up?

The man rolls his eyes. “Come now, at least admit to your own name. If you can’t do that, how can you own up to the consequences of your actions?”

Head spinning, you ignore the fact that you think he just implied you’re stupid to instead focus on his latter comment. Despite your situation, you can’t help the spark of indignation that rages in your chest. Maybe that’s what makes you stupid: your sharp tongue. “Excuse me? Consequences? Are you lecturing me? And how do you know my name? Who even are you? Why am I here?”

Tilting his head slightly, the man lets a subtle smile pull at his lips. “Finally asking the right questions.” He stands and paces behind the podium in front of you, appearing like a judge presiding over court.

“My name is Dr. Veritas Ratio, and you, (Y/n), are my wife.”

You jerk back like you’ve been hit. That is certainly not what you were expecting.

A startled laugh escapes you. “I don’t have a husband.”

Ratio hums in response, jotting down something in a book he pulled from his robes. “And what is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”

“Woah, woah, are we just going to glance over the fact that you’re claiming we’re married?!” you shout, panic creeping into your bones. So not only have you been kidnapped, but the individual holding you is also insane. Great. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

A deep sigh fills the room, followed by the sound of lead scratching against paper. A low mumble that you can barely discern contemplates, “Perhaps the dosage was too high this time? Such an amnestic response is unusual… Could a physical stimulus be required to invigorate her hippocampus?”

The damn man is treating you like a science project!

Before you can retort, he pulls out two small vials of liquid, both no larger than your thumb. He sets them down on the table before you and gestures to each individually.

“You now have a choice. Drinking this,” he motions to the right, at the vial possessing a golden liquid flecked with sparkling, iridescent particles, “will restore your memories. You’ll remember me, and everything that led up to this point.”

Remember him? Did he drug you into forgetting, and this was the next step in his experiment? If what he claims is true, why would a husband ever do that to his wife? Your head throbs.

“Or, choose this vial,” he points to the lefthand bottle, a concoction so dark it mirrors the midnight sky, “and you will forget everything and get to walk out that door shortly after.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Surely there was some sort of catch. His language was too vague to be of any comfort at all.

“Why are you making me choose at all? This all seems like one really fucked up joke.” You tug at your bindings again, letting out a growl of frustration.

Ratio pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’re lucky I’ve grown so fond of you that I can overlook your insipid questioning. You will choose.”

“And what happens when I do? Surely it’s not as simple as remembering you or being freed. You don’t seem like a man who would go to all the trouble. What’s in this for you other than forcing me to be your little lab rat?”

After a pregnant pause, Ratio clucks his tongue. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I give away the answers. You’re clearly not thinking straight.” He places his notebook down and picks up a vial in each hand, holding the small things between his thumb and index fingers.

“The gold bottle here will completely restore your memories. You want to know the whole truth about us? How you ended up in this room? Why it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation?” Your breath hitches; what did he mean not the first time. “Then drink this one. It will probably give you a leg up, since you’ll recall all those past times you tried oh so fruitlessly to escape me.”

He then raises his opposite hand as your horror builds. “Alternatively, this vial will completely wipe your memories, but only of me. You’ll recall everything about yourself, your life, hobbies, et cetera…but in doing so, you will be helpless the next time we meet. You will have no defenses, and one way or another, you will be my wife again. That much has already been proven true.”

The floor falls from underneath you. Aeons, how many times have you taken that midnight liquid? How many times have you been in this very scenario, drugged into forgetting him, only for him to court you time and time again. Clearly you must reject him each time, but he’s so lost in his obsession that he has to reset you each time you try to flee. The thought makes you immediately nauseous.

Despite your dry throat, you manage to croak out, “And if I refuse to take either?”

Ratio’s expression darkens, his chin tipped up haughtily. “Don’t test my patience, (Y/n).”

You gulp, eyes flicking back and forth between this two hands. You must choose.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

This is one of the best articles I’ve seen yet on Trump, Trumpism, and the upcoming election. It’s directed at the right and centre-right (whereas most tumblr posts on this are directed at the left), but it’s saying – with detailed analysis and evidence – exactly what needs to be said, to everyone. This is not a normal election. How you vote this November determines whether you ever get the chance to vote in a democratic election again. This is not a game. Fascism is not a buzzword or a rhetorical device to hurl at anyone and everyone you disagree with. It is real, it is dangerous, and Trump is openly running on a fascist platform.

There are only two sides in this election: those who want the United States to be a fascist dictatorship and those who do not.

I live in Canada. I do not want to live next to a fascist state (especially since the Comservatives here are way ahead in the polls and their leader gives every sign of wanting to cozy up to Trump).

Please, stop this while you still have a chance.

Today we’re going to look at definitions of fascism and ask the question – you may have guessed – if Donald Trump is running for President as a fascist. Worry not, this isn’t me shifting to full-time political pundit, nor is this the formal end of the hiatus (which will happen on Nov 1, when I hope to have a post answering some history questions from the ACOUP Senate to start off on), but this was an essay I had in me that I had to get out, and working on the book I haven’t the time to get it out in any other forum but this one. And I’ll be frank, some of Donald Trump’s recent statements and promises have raised the urgency of writing this; the political science suggests that politicians do, broadly, attempt to do the things they promise to do – and the things Trump is promising are dark indeed.

Now I want to be clear what we’re doing here. I am not asking if the Republican Party is fascist (I think, broadly speaking, it isn’t) and certainly not if you are fascist (I certainly hope not). But I want to employ the concept of fascism as an ideology with more precision than its normal use (‘thing I don’t like’) and in that context ask if Donald Trump fits the definition of a fascist based on his own statements and if so, what does that mean. And I want to do it in a long-form context where we can get beyond slogans or tweet-length arguments and into some detail.

Now the response from some folks is going to be anger that I am even asking this question and demands for me to ‘stay in my lane.’ To which I must remind them that the purpose of history and historians is, as Thucydides put it, is to offer “an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the understanding of the future, which in the course of human affairs must resemble if it does not reflect it” (Thuc. 1.22.4). This is my lane. Goodness knows, I’d much rather be discussing the historical implications of tax policy or long-term interstate strategy, but that isn’t the election we’re having. And if hearing about these things that happened is unpleasant, well, Polybius offers the solution: “men have no more ready corrective of conduct than knowledge of the past” (Plb. 1.1.1). We must correct our conduct.

The author, Bret Devereaux, lays out the history of the rise to power of Hitler and Mussolini and draws out the lessons

What I want to note here are two key commonalities: First, fascists were only able to take power because of the gullibility of those who thought they could ‘use’ the fascists against some other enemy (usually communists). Traditional conservative politicians (your Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham types) and conservative business leaders (your Elon Musks) fooled themselves into believing that, because the would-be tyrant seemed foolish, buffoonish, and uneducated that such an individual could be controlled to their ends, shaped in more productive, more ‘moderate,’ more ‘business friendly’ directions. They were wrong; many of them paid for their foolish error with their lives (Victor Emmanuel III paid for it with his crown). Mussolini and Hitler would not be ‘shaped,’ – they would be exactly the violent, tyrannical dictators they had promised to be – to the total and utter ruin of their countries.

Note that these men were not exactly subtle about what they wanted to do. Mein Kampf is not a subtle book. But they both knew how to promise violence to their followers while prevaricating to their temporary allies; be wary of the fascist who promises violence in his rally speeches but assures you that, if you just give him power, he won’t hurt anyone (except the people you don’t like) – because it is a lie, of course.

Second: once these fascist leaders were in power it was already too late to stop them. Precisely because fascists had no respect for democratic processes and the rule of law – things they had declared openly in seeking power – once in power, they were unconstrained by them and swiftly set about converting all of the powers of the government into a machine to keep them in power. And the conversion from democracy to dictatorship was remarkably swift, in Italy, Mussolini marched in October of ’22, rewrote the election rules in November of ’23 and by December of ’24 had effectively dropped even the pretense of democracy; just two years. Hitler was faster: appointed chancellor in January 1933, by March of that year he had suspended constitutional protections and ruled by fiat; just three months.

The time to stop an authoritarian takeover of a democratic system is before the authoritarian is in office, because once they are in power, they will use that power, to stay in power and it becomes almost impossible to remove them without considerable violence (and difficult to do even with considerable violence).

That, however, creates a tricky situation. With most political ideologies, voters can adopt a strategy of judging by outputs: “if you don’t like the current government’s policies, let these other fellows here have a go at it and see if they do better. If not, you can always vote them out next time.” But with fascists and other authoritarians there may not be a next time and this strategy fails: by the time the actions of the fascists make it clear they are dangerous, it is too late to vote them out.

This is why it is important to listen carefully to what fascists say and what they promise and most importantly to take their threats of political violence and authoritarianism seriously.

Which is not to say that everything on the right is fascism (just as not everything on the left is its own authoritarian variant, communism). Ronald Reagan was not a fascist, nor was George H.W. Bush or George W. Bush or John McCain or Mitt Romney. They were conservatives within the liberal tradition (again, ‘liberal’ here in the old Jefferson-Locke-and-Washington sense). Most Republicans today are not fascists, although a distressing number appear ready to repeat Franz von Papen’s mistake of assuming they can achieve their goals through an alliance with fascists. Only the devil wins such a devil’s bargain.

How is one to tell the difference? Listen to the things they promise to do and understand that they make speak out of both sides of their mouth: promising violence to one audience and then toning down their rhetoric to another. But politicians speaking from within the tradition of liberty don’t need to speak that way because they don’t promise violence in the first place.

Listen for the promises of violence, the promises to suspend press freedoms, the promises to persecute political adversaries and when you hear them believe them.

I strongly recommend reading the whole article, as the author goes on to lay out two of the more common definitions of fascism and analyze, point-by-point, how Trumpism fits them.

There is a reason why some Republicans, even some of the people who were in Trump’s inner circle in 2016-2020, have jumped ship now. The Republicans who are willing to vote for Kamala aren’t doing it because she’s conservative – they’re doing it because they’re anti-fascist. It would be deeply ironic if people on the left who have been calling themselves anti-fascists for the last eight years proved to be less so than those Republicans. This may be one of the most crucial moments in American history. Take it seriously.

[under-loch-n-key]

Hi everyone. Obviously everyone has seen the news and read the polls and obviously you can tell that we’re likely cooked.

For some reason our country wants to elect the Mango Menace and his gaggle of orange stained goons once again.

I am terrified for myself, my loved ones, my country, our climate, and just everything.

However, I’d like to tell the LGBTQIA+ community these things because I know we are terrified right now.

What happened today, it’s devastating. It angers me too. Some of my closest family voted for that horrible man. I don’t think I can look at them the same way anymore. Especially, when they hold no guilt or remorse about it even after I explained his policies to them. What do I know, I guess.. 🤷🏻‍♂️🙄

However, as a queer, trans man in this little community, I want ALL of the LGBTQIA+ people who will see this post to know that things will be alright. We all have each other. We know we exist here in the states even if none of us have met. We EXIST.

Just because those orange stained dunderheads want to silence us doesn't change the fact that we exist. We do. We always will. Bigotry cannot fight facts and science. We'll always exist. The only time trans people won't exist is when the human race dies out. Even then, we have other animal species that are queer and trans. No matter what, we will always exist in nature. They cannot change that. They cannot take that from us. Do not lose hope. Even though it's really fucking hard not to.

Do not lose it. The fact that you and I exist is a beacon of hope to another trans and queer person. We exist. None of us want to be left here alone. So we must go on. We must continue to exist. Things WILL be okay. I'll always keep fighting and living for you and every one of my trans and queer brothers, sisters, and siblings.

You existing and simply being here is a beacon of hope to me. Someone who has understands how I'm feeling. Someone who is LIKE me but so different at the same time.

In the grand scheme of the universe, we are very small. However, even though it's small, the fact is that it EXISTS. It's so fucking small in this big void of the cosmos but we're here. We're made of similar components as stars, ones that had to die for us to exist.

I like to think of the sky as when humanity was truly equal. When we were just atoms in the big ol' void, ya know? We didn't fight. We didn't give a shit about all of this stuff. We were allll different types of stars and matter. We were all random as hell, but we just WERE. We coexisted peacefully together in the universe.

Now that those stars are dead as a door nail and some dumb fishy bastard decided to get curious and walk on land, we're all human. Humanity fucking sucks ass sometimes but it's also such a beautiful fucking thing. No matter what happens, a part of us will always exist.

Our existence is embedded in the universe. Nothing can change that. So, please keep living. Be safe, but keep living. Always keep fighting. We belong here just like anyone else.

You belong. You are loved. You are cherished. You are noticed by me and other people here. We all understand each other. So keep going. Again, one day we will all have a better tomorrow. I swear to fucking god or whatever the hell is out there, if anything, however it's unlikely, I will ALWAYS keep fighting for you and WITH you.

Every protest l attend. Every petition I sign. Every time I vote. Every time I go to pride. Every time l simply leave my home as I am. I am doing it for you and all of us. Our people WILL have our damn tomorrow. I'm sick of us not having it. I swear to you we will. So, again, please keep going. Keep fighting. Keep living. Exist. Your existence may be a threat to some bigoted fucker but your existence is precious to someone else. Please do not let them take your right to exist away from you. Keep going.

We’ll have a better tomorrow, the one that we deserve eventually, but we just need get through the hard, bumpy, dirty road first.

Again, we will be okay. Everything will be okay. We’ll get through it. Yes, unfortunately, we will likely see suicide rates and hate crime rates go up and that's disgusting and just all types of awful and depressing. It angers me beyond words.

However, we are strong.

We shouldn't have to be strong though.

What we should be and need to be is loved, accepted, warm, fed, have shelter, and are safe.

For now though, we remain strong. You will always have a place here.

You will live. You will not die, hun. I know the thought creeps in and believe me, I understand. Those thoughts creep in for me too, but we must learn to try to control them. If there's anything I know about us trans and queer folk it's that we're strong, feisty, kind, very sexy, and cheeky as hell. So, if we live, we live because it's our damn right and to be spiteful. We do not owe the people who want to harm us our lives. We just don't. We deserve healthcare. We deserve to love and get married.

We deserve to grow old.

You will grow old. You will be able to go on those trips you've always wanted. You will be able to have that cheesy romance you've always wanted, if you are someone who is wanting a relationship.

You'll be able to sit down and watch your favourite movie. Why? Because you stayed. You didn't give up. Ever. We will always exist.

We will ALWAYS live.

Being transgender has existed before humans even walked this earth and it will still exist when all of us book our holy bus tickets and the blessed holy tax collector comes to collect our debted souls. No matter what, we will live on. They can silence us all they want and erase whatever the fuck they want but that doesn't mean that it's the truth. We're HERE.

We've been here since forever ago. Those Cheeto dusted dunderheads cannot change that. Like I told another person here, other animals and even plants are trans and queer! We've always been here. That won't change, hun.

Everything WILL be okay. We'll always survive and live on. Look at how far we've come in these past years. Many of us thought that we'd be gone already but here we are, two trans people typing away in comment sections on an app where middle age men get off to octopus porn and neko ladies in Japanese school girl outfits because men. and welcome to the internet, I guess. Lmao.

Everything will work out on way or another. We'll have our tomorrow, hun. For now, we gotta buckle down because we're in for a bumpy ride but hey, thankfully on bumpy you have those moments where ya hit the bump just right and you're like

"WOAH, HELLO!- mister bump, you better watch yourself, you saucy boy~ You can't be doin' that. You better take me to dinner first." Lmao. Okay, on a more serious note, we just gotta buckle down together and get through this bumpy ass dirt road because after awhile you make it through that rocky dirt road in the woods and come out to feel smooth pavement again. It'll be alright. We just need to band together and make it through. We all are always stronger together. You're not alone, my friends.

You're talkin' to a guy who has the personality of a gay muppet with a big mouth. I'm shocked nothin’ has happened to me yet with my yappy ass screeching and getting over 80+ gay people to start baa-ing like sheep at a bigot at last year's pride event, but that's a wholeeeee different situation.

My point is, we'll be okay. We'll make it through.

You'll survive. You have me. You have everyoneeeee here and on other social forums. Sure, it's not the same as in-person interactions but it's somethin'. It’s better than nothing I guess. If we’ve gotta go stealth mode eventually and make secret groups for us trans and queer folk, then so be it.

Just do whatever you feel you need to do to keep yourselves safe.

We'll have a better tomorrow. We just need to keep pushing through this rough shit. We'll get out of the woods and onto smooth pavement with open skies eventually.

Continue to exist. Fight. Be safe, but live. Live for yourself, fellow trans people, and simply for spite.

Fuck bigots. Not actually though. Like DON'T fuck them. Who knows where they've been. But fuck them. They're not worth your life. Their bigotry is not worth your life. Live because it's your right.

Those guys are all so far up Donald Trump’s ass he fired his doctor and hired his supporters to give him a colonoscopy.

So, live long. Live for love and live for spite, my friends. We'll get through this.

It’s Trump 2: Electric Boogaloo. SPOILER: The first movie sucked too. They even tried to make a third one — Mango Menace Strikes Back! We didn’t want to come to the theatre to see the second one but it was a class field trip that most of America signed for us. So, we’ve allll got no choice but to go on the trip to the cinema.

Anyways, things will be okay. We’ll make it through. We’ll out get it figured out. We always do. We’ll take care of each other. Everything will be alright. 🤙🏼💛⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️✨

(Sorry for typos and repetitive speech- it’s 4:14 a.m. EST. 😭😭)

[catfern]

cowboy!ellie headcanons

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader

music: roses are falling - orville peck

word count: 1.2k

warnings: fingering (briefly), drunk sex-ish, guns??, yearning and just sappy shit mainly im in a vulnerable state

an: this is shit brainrot bc i've played too much rdr2 and i want ellie to let me ride her cowgirl style. this took me for-fucking-ever because i got acrylics and dropped my wpm from 108 to 67. also if i put out a poll asking what fic to post next would people vote

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✷ cowboy!ellie having the most pornographic, velvet-laced southern accent known to man. drawling out words in a whisper, that reassured wit sitting in her throat with a lopsided smirk. she’s such a tease, knowing how it gets to you, that ‘c’mon, sweetheart, you gonna make me wait f’you?’ after she trots ahead, glancing back at you under the wide brim of her hat. please, trying to make eye contact with ellie after a long day of riding (ifykyk), seeing just a glance of the veins in her neck, beads of sweat sitting in the little crevices as she leans down to her saddle bag. god, her hands!! and she looks at you, that knowing impatience and ‘okay there, darlin’?, and you can’t look at her, your head swimming and drowning in the molasses of her voice and too focused on the up, down, up, down, up trot of your horse.

✷ setting up camp for the night, bed mats a good distance away from each other, and you wake up, fire dying, moon high, and ellie is still awake, hands covered in dirt and ash and rust from her old revolver that she cleans too occasionally. the gentle scratch of charcoal on parchment, her body hunched over, protective like a creature, and when you call out to her, she TOSSES her journal into the dirt like it burned to touch. if the moon wasn’t so faint, you’d see the uncharacteristic blush fleeting across her cheeks, but too quickly, she tells you to go back to sleep, she’s just staying up to take care of the fire. you listen in a haze, and ellie tears out the five, maybe 6 pages?? of rough sketches, harsh lines etching out your body, your smile, your eyes, and stamps them into the cooling embers of the campfire.

✷ if we’re talking historically accurate cowboys, ellie is definitely the type to believe in dinosaurs!! it’s this new, fresh, science fad and everybody laughs at her for it, cause omg?? giant lizards?? nah!! but ellie is so adamant, reading every paper and pamphlet on the subject that she can get her hands on (assuming she can even read lets be so real), and she’ll tell you about it! small, reluctant meanders from more important topics, at first, but you’re kind and you listen to words either of you barely understand, and sure it’s a little bit boring, but she’s happy, and for some reason she makes it incredibly dynamic, crash coursing you on lizards that evolved (a buzz word in all her pamphlets) into BIGGER lizards.

✷ cowboy!ellie, the horse whisperer. she doesn’t teach you to ride, but you’ve never had a way with horses, cantankerous and rough, so you need a lil bit of assistance. ellie will take the lead, letting you rock behind her on your horse, your arms draped around her like common occurrence, and she’ll turn, ‘see? be gentle, she’ll listen. you’re a team, y’know?’

✷ ‘she just likes you more than me.’

✷ her laugh is boisterous, loud, it sounds like it belongs amongst the hills and caverns, like wind against rocks, ‘no one likes me more than you, flower.’

✷ one day, you’re just passing through a small town, nothing more than a few shops and scattered farm houses, and ellie spies an outlaw poster, poorly tacked to the community bulletin board. it’s her, badly sketched, sure. her chin is way too big, nose a bit askew, but it’s definitely her. and you laugh as she presses you frantically, ‘i don’t really look like this? do i?’ and it’s got some ridiculous nickname that definitely over-inflates her ego, ‘ellie 'longshot’ williams (no one has called her that ever) that she’ll parade it around like a medal

✷ ‘aw, love, do you need some help shootin’? don’t call me long shot for nothin’.’

✷ you’d get a bit vulgar, a bit defensive because, yeah, maybe ellie is actually good at shooting, and you could benefit from her teaching. but that fucking nickname, lording over your head with that lilt in her voice, and the childish, goading smile, you’d tell her to shove it somewhere the sun don’t shine and just pray luck guides your bullet.

✷ your now-so-serious scowl eats at her, so ellie has to swallow her boyish pride and shut up, simply falling behind you. gently tapping your shin with her boot to get you to adjust your stance, her hands stretching out over yours to feel out the barrel of the foreign pistol. they’re rough, calloused, unmade for this sort of gentle gesture, but you welcome the heat that they give. with a soft push and pull, like a tide she moves your fingers, your hands, to hold the gun well. her voice is a whisper as she instructs, ‘don’t hold it so loosely. stronger grip helps aim.’ 

✷ she’s shaking in her boots. a moment like this, tender, with you is scarcely shared. the closeness burns her chest as she feels you breathe against her, skittish but assured, ellie’s finger snaking around yours to settle on the trigger. you go to fire, and the recoil sends you backwards in a shock, ellie having to move her hands from the gun to your waist to keep you steady. you laugh something coarse, leaning back into her without a thought. adrenaline intimacy.

✷ ‘okay, maybe y’need a few more lessons before you get it right.’ it’s a selfish thought, but it cements ellie in that moment, with you just in her reach, and her revolver. she’d clean it for you.

✷ cowboy!ellie doing stupid shit, like taking longer detours to show you the scenery, the stretching fields and great mountain waterfalls, stopping to pick wildflowers (she’s a sap), or taking the extra care to saddle up your horse for you, securing the girth and not letting you touch it because ‘i don’t need you slippin’ on me.’ she takes care of you, out on the road, it’s not an official thing, but you’re off limits.

✷ ellie is kind, but sex with her isn’t. the first time, she’s terribly drunk, playing away her night in a saloon, at a poker table (she’s losing), and you’re sat at the bar, wearing that, and it’s violently throwing her off her game, so she decides to make it known that your presence is an interruption. dragging you upstairs, she’s unkind. ‘you’re not helping my luck, looking like that.’

✷ ‘how do you need me, then?’

✷ she tastes like cigarette smoke, and bourbon, and she smells like the sleek of rain on dry dirt, and feeling her all over you is intoxicating, rough. she’s quick, her lips aren’t soft but rather, a grating possession on your skin, a feeling that swallows you, melts you down in the heat of her hands. she swears, a lot, it sounds like disbelief but really, it’s a bribe. a prayer. ‘dear god, give me this, let me have this, and i will be devout.’ it’s primal, something uncontrollable. drunk, it’s worse. she loses herself in the haze, becomes complete disregard, her fingers inside you without hearing you, just feeling you. lost in you and she keeps pounding into you simply because she’s enraptured by the feeling of you clenching around her.

[duckprintspress]

Cover Reveal: “Scrap Metal Angel” by Nicola Kapron

On October 10th, Duck Prints Press will be launching our next crowdfunding campaign for the novella Scrap Metal Angel by Nicola Kapron – and today, we’re sharing the cover for the first time!

Secret Gates have protected mankind from the unknown chaos beyond the edges of reality for millennia, and now, all that stands between everything humanity knows and the horrors outside it are a depressed trans man, his exhausted partner, and a creature ill-suited to the world after being pulled from his own horrific reality. This is Scrap Metal Angel by Nicola Kapron, an urban fantasy where only fragile Gates protect all we know from eldritch, incomprehensible magic. This is the world that Adrian Somer is determined to save.

Blurb:

Reality, tiny and fragile, is cut off from the sea of chaos and nightmares that surrounds it by seven Gates. One of them is open—and has been since the Stone Age. Through that opening, strange creatures and energies slip through. Some are malevolent. None are harmless. And all of them must be kept a secret.

Every hidden magical world needs a shadowy clean-up crew. Adrian Somer is a Gatekeeper, sworn to protect the cosmic Gates, to defend reality from the unknown entities that exist beyond them, and to help those whose lives are affected by magic.

When a grieving sorceress starts punching holes in reality to try and resurrect her murdered fiancé, Adrian must turn to a ghost from his past in order to save the city, and perhaps the world—even if that means digging up someone he thought was safely buried: the twin brother he killed eight years ago.

About the Author: Nicola Kapron has previously been published by Neo-opsis Science Fiction Magazine, Rebel Mountain Press, Soteira Press, All Worlds Wayfarer, Mannison Press, and more. Nicola lives in British Columbia with a hoard of books—mostly fantasy and horror—and an extremely fluffy cat.

From October 10th through October 25th, we’ll be crowdfunding through our website and webstore to fund publishing this awesome novella, with a goal of $2,800! You can preview the campaign RIGHT NOW, and if you’re interested in backing and want to get a notification when the campaign goes live, make sure you follow us on social media and/or sign-up for our newsletter!

We’re currently doing a poll to determine the exclusive extra that Patreon backers who also back the campaign will receive. There’s no time like the present to become a backer and get access to exclusive previews, behind-the-scenes access, backer reward short stories, Patreon-only merchandise, and more!

[starrz-n-waffl3-fries]

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT OUR UNIVERSE‼️

Joey is gone, out of our lives, Never to be seen again- DONE-

Soooo (ﾟ∀ﾟ)💧

We are rebranding the universe’s name!! we’re not calling it the cruel game of life anymore!!

There is one problem, though, with that-

We have six different names in mind and we are relying on YOUR help to decide!!! <3

The fate of the universe is quite literally in your hands, everyone’s vote matters, so what do you think? which one of these names do you like the most? >:3c

We don’t have all of them down logo wise, but this is what we do have in the order of the poll Decisions!!!

I’m not sure how Tumblr works so if you cannot change your vote and you want to change your vote after we show the other remaining two, let us know which one you’re re-voting for in the comments And we will take that comment in consideration when calculating the results!!!!<3

@watermelonolemretaw @burntmarshmallowqueen

(Credits to YDB and LPG!’s logo art to @watermelonolemretaw)

(Credits to FL and GMN+PB logo art to @starrz-n-waffl3-fries)

[kidlit-queen-competition]

Round 1 Poll 22: Raphaella La Cognizi from the Mechanisms vs Bonnibel Bubblegum from Adventure Time

Entry propaganda UNDER CUT IT GOT TOO LONG:

Raphaella La Cognizi

She literally threw herself into a black hole when she ran out of things to discover. AS AN EXPERIMENT.

“As cruel and evil as she is science”

Science officer in a band of immortal space pirates who maybe created her own mechanical wings? Loves unethical experiments and magnets. Described “as cruel and brutal as she is science”. Eventually threw herself into a black hole for science. Also has a very nice singing voice!

She is as cruel and beautiful as she is Science! Also she made herself immortal by giving herself a pie of wings. Probably. We’re not 100% sure

she’s an immortal space pirate. what else do you need to know??

She is a imortal space pirate. She has wings. The wings are the reason she is imortal. She died by launching herself into a black hole simply to see what would happen. (Also I feel like I should specific that the lesbianism here is a headcannon.)

After she becomes bored with mad lesbian science, she launches herself into a black hole for funzies. She loves magnets. She has wings. What else is there to say. also shes my wife

She is "as cruel and brutal as she is... science!" Her position on the crew of the Mechanisms is "science officer" and she cares a lot about Doing Science and not at all about ethics! She is confined by nothing in her endless pursuit of knowledge, whether that be time, money, laws of the universe, or moral codes. She's immortal, mostly, except at some point her death is finally permanent and that is when she threw herself into a black hole to see what would happen

Her first introduction ever was "as cruel and brutal as she is... Science!" Also she threw herself into a black hole just to learn something new one last time.

Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum

Oh she is so fucked up. She made a whole kingdom. I think she is jus <3

THE OG LESBIAN SCIENTIST OF KIDS CARTOONS!!! she created her own kingdom of living beings and considers them her subjects and she's been experimenting and creating and exploring ever since she was very small. she gay kisses her vampire gf in the finale! she probably has a lot of noms and im sure you know her but I love her and I want to see her here!

[haveyoureadthisscifibook]

FAQ: read before submitting

[plain text: FAQ: read before submitting]

a note re series: I am more than happy to queue up an entire series on request! if this is what you want, please indicate that explicitly in your submission, especially in cases where the first book in a series and the series as a whole have the same title. otherwise I need to ask for clarification, and it slows down the process of getting your submissions queued up.

where do I submit books?

submissions are currently closed!

[plain text: submissions are currently closed!]

here. before you submit books, though, please check the list of books that have already been posted or queued. (note: if you’re using the mobile app on an Android phone, you may have to copy the link into your browser in order to access it.)

when submitting multiple books, please submit all of them in a single ask so it’s easier for me to keep track of, especially if you’re submitting them anonymously. also, please include the author’s name!

what counts as having “read” a book?

did you finish the book? then you’ve read it. if you did not finish the book, you have not read it.

do audiobooks / having a book read to you count as having “read” a book?

do you think you’ve “read” the book? then you’ve read it. I’m not here to police your experiences or your relationships with physical books / ebooks / audiobooks / whatever.

does [graphic novel / manga / manhua] count as a “book”?

for the purposes of this poll, a book is a prose narrative, so graphic novels and other visual media with text do not count as “books”.

does [“novella” / “novelette” / short story] count as a “book’?

if a short story was originally published in a single issue of a periodical, in a multi-author anthology, or as part of a single-author collection, I will most likely not accept it unless it has subsequently been published as a standalone volume of more than ~75 pages. if you submit a text where this applies and you think it should be accepted anyway, please elaborate on why with your submission.

however: if a short story was originally published in the form of a standalone volume (i.e., not as part of a collection of texts), then yes, under normal circumstances that counts! I don’t care if it was a 10-page pamphlet or a 1000-page behemoth: if it was first published on its own, including as an ebook, it’s a book.

you can see my more detailed guidelines for short fiction here.

the one exception is things like (e.g.) The Fellowship of the Ring, which is explicitly the first volume of a single, larger book — in a case like this you would submit The Lord of the Rings, rather than its component volumes.

I encourage you to submit short fiction to @have-you-read-this-short-fiction even if it’s not eligible here!

does [short story collection] count as a “book”?

for the purposes of this poll, no, unless the stories are linked into some kind of overarching whole. simply sharing a common setting does not qualify (so Yoon Ha Lee’s Hexarchate Stories would not count as a “book”).

what about [series] as a whole?

no. this blog is asking about single books. feel free to submit multiple books in a series if you’re so inclined, though!

what counts as “sci-fi”?

if you think something should count as sci-fi, feel free to submit it. I haven’t read every book, and I have a flexible definition of the genre. there are some limits to my flexibility, but as long as it is set in the future, has some kind of futuristic technology, is set an an alternate timeline, or includes other non-realist phenomena that are explained (pseudo)scientifically, I’ll probably consider it sci-fi.

I’m a bit more ambivalent about older texts — I tend to think that something like Lucian’s True History (for example) can’t really be meaningfully said to be science fiction, for all that it involves space travel. once we start getting into early modern philosophical novels like More’s Utopia we’re on somewhat firmer ground, but really only in the nineteenth century do we start getting things I would unequivocally consider to be science fiction.

note that I am definitely willing to include works of science fantasy like Tamsyn Muir’s The Locked Tomb books or Piers Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality, as long as there’s clearly sci-fi stuff going on along with the magic.

what about fantasy?

there’s a blog for that. :-)

does it have to be in English?

no! I read a number of languages and would be more than happy to include books in any language. the demographics of tumblr mean that you’re probably unlikely to get an overall “yes” result for something not in English unless it has a very popular English translation, but I’m happy to post the poll anyway — and maybe get some book recommendations in the languages I read. :-)

you can see links to all the language tags on this blog here.

why don’t you include blurbs for the books in these polls?

there are both practical and ideological reasons for this. tl;dr, it’s a lot of work, presents logistical problems for books not originally published in English, and there are books and authors that I categorically don’t want to promote beyond showing people the cover.

————————

check the #faq tag for additional questions and answers.

[literaphobe]

Do you have a list of all chapters of tvl that contain smut?.....asking for....science

i can’t sleep so im gonna do this. hi. idk what ur definition of smut is so for the purposes of this ask response im gonna define it as um. idk. sexual contact…? someone got to come…?

anyway (SPOILERS AHEAD)

1) ch3 -> orgasm denial marathon + blowjob scene

2) ch6 -> virginity loss sex (first scene) + shower sex kinda bc there’s hand and mouth stuff (second scene)

3) ch7 -> yeah they had sex in this one (last scene) there was masturbation and then getting tvl chat tied up or something

4) ch8 -> tvl marinette has a sex dream about both tvl adrien and tvl chat noir. more sad than sexy but when she wakes up she kind of humps tvl adrien and then neither of them get to come but well isn’t that kind of epic

5) ch9 -> there’s a massage scene which leads to a bit of sex but most of it is stupidity and sadness so i would almost not count this

6) ch10 -> they had sex in the last scene!!!! a lot of it and it was like. sad angry reunion sex. but more so. i love u and you don’t love me but fuck it let’s have sex hey why are u crying also btw if u still want to have sex with me is it ok if i tell u im madly in love with you every time we do it

7) ch11 -> it kicks off w a concerning pussy eating marathon (first scene) and like ummm yes they have kind of like ‘distract me’ sex (fourth…? Scene?) which turns into like. i want to call it a marriage kink. um. like they’re like very turned on by the concept of being husband and wife smut. yeah i write normal things

also since we’re here let’s do a poll

[krowbby]

Hogfather footnotes poll, Part 1!

Since it's Hogswatch season, I'm back with another footnote poll! Hogfather has a ton of footnotes, so this has to be split into 2 parts :P Part 2 linked here!

Full text of each footnote plus a little context for each is below the readmore so this post isn't a mile long. Enjoy!

Later on they took the blood out to make the stories more acceptable to children, or at least to the people who had to read them aloud to children rather than the children themselves (who, on the whole, are quite keen on blood provided it’s being shed by the deserving*) *That is to say, those who deserve to shed blood. Or possibly not. You never quite know with some kids.

"The sign which says ‘Do not, under any circumstances, open this door’?” “Of course I’ve read it,” said Ridcully. “Why d’yer think I want it opened?” “Er…why?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “To see why they wanted it shut, of course.” * *This exchange contains almost all you need to know about human civilization. At least, those bits of it that are now under the sea, fenced off, or still smoking.

Downey stood up with some relief and walked over to his large drinks cabinet. His hand hovered over the Guild’s ancient and valuable tantalus, with its labeled decanters of Mur, Nig, Trop, and Yeksihw.* *It’s a sad and terrible thing that high-born folk really have thought that the servants would be totally fooled if spirits were put into decanters that were cunningly labeled backward. And also throughout history the more politically conscious butler has taken it on trust, and with rather more justification, that his employers will not notice if the whiskey is topped up with eniru. 

He was called Peachy, although no one had ever found out why.* *Peachy was not someone you generally asked questions of, except the sort that go like: “If-if-if-if I give you all my money could you possibly not break the other leg, thank you so much?”

[…]but who were nevertheless inconveniently positioned where they were and could much better be located on, for example, a sea bed somewhere.* *Chickenwire had got his name from his own individual contribution to the science of this very specialized “concrete overshoe” form of waste disposal. An unfortunate drawback of the process was the tendency for bits of the client to eventually detach and float to the surface, causing much comment in the general population. Enough chicken wire, he’d pointed out, would solve that, while also allowing the ingress of crabs and fish going about their vital recycling activities. 

[…]said his brother [Medium Dave].* *Ankh-Morpork's underworld, which was so big that the overworld floated around on top of it like a very small hen trying to mother a nest of ostrich chicks, already had Big Dave, Fat Dave, Mad Dave, Wee Davey, and Lanky Dai. Everyone had to find their niche. 

MOST OF THE LETTERS… THEY DON’T REALLY BELIEVE. THEY PRETEND TO BELIEVE JUST IN CASE.* *This is very similar to the suggestion put forward by the Quirmian philosopher Ventre, who said, “Possible the gods exist, and possibly they do not. So why not believe in them in any case? If it’s all true you’ll go to a lovely place when you die, and if it isn’t then you’ve lost nothing, right?” When he died he woke up in a circle of gods holding nasty-looking sticks and one of them said, “We’re going to show you what we think of Mr. Clever Dick in these parts…”

Despite the decorations put up inexpertly by Igor the barman to show willing,* Biers was not a family place. *He’d done his best. But black and purple and vomit yellow weren’t a good color combination for paper chains, and no Hogswatch fairy doll should be nailed up by its head. 

Fairies aren’t necessarily little twinkly creatures. It’s purely a job description, and the commonest ones aren’t even visible.* A fairy is simply any creature currently employed under supernatural laws to take things away[…] *Such as the Electric Drill Chuck Key Fairy. 

Apparently he ran a fruit stall and was married to a girl called Angie.* *Who was (according to Sideney’s mother) a bit of a catch since her father owned a half-share in an eel pie shop in Gleam Street, you must know her, got all her own teeth and a wooden leg you’d hardly notice, got a sister called Continence, lovely girl, why didn’t she invite her along for tea next time he was over, not that she hardly saw her son the big wizard at all these days, but you never knew and if the magic thing didn’t work out then a quarter-share in a thriving eel pie business was not to be sneezed at…

He’d seen the way the others reacted around Teatime, and they were men who did things he’d only dreamed of.* *Not, that is, things that he wanted to do, or wanted done to him. Just things that he dreamed of, in the armpit of a bad night.

Juvenile teeth earned no less than a dollar each from her father, without argument.* *In fact, when she was eight she’d found a collection of animal skulls in an attic, relict of some former duke of an inquiring turn of mind. Her father had been a bit preoccupied with affairs of state and she’d made twenty-seven dollars before being found out. The hippopotamus molar had, with hindsight, been a mistake. Skulls never frightened her, even then. 

[amor-immortalem]

Because I need to know for… science

Dia and Beel are disqualified because we’re all in agreement that they already got some tig ol’ biddies. Luke is also disqualified from this poll for obvious reasons

As always reblog after you vote for a bigger sample size.

[identitty-dickruption]

Australia doesn’t need a bill of rights

one of my favourite jokes to make with my other polsci friends is “Australians have no rights”. it’s funny because it’s kind of true (but only if you look at the constitution). there’s always low level talk about implementing a bill of rights into our constitution to “rectify” this. but I’m here to tell you. We Do Not Need One. why?

we don’t want one. polling data continues to show that a referendum for a bill of rights would not pass. there is a REASON we still don’t have one

it would create a Not Great political environment

it would contribute towards the high court becoming more politicised

we don’t actually need one

the first point is pretty self-explanatory, so I’ll move on to point two!

rights are deeply political. it’s not just “what do humans deserve?”, it’s also “who counts as a human?”. we’ve seen this over the entire history of the modern US. having a series of conversations about what rights we should or shouldn’t have would absolutely contribute to polarisation. it would basically be a formalised version of culture wars, and nobody wants that

now. my fellow Aussies. can you remember the last time you heard about high court judges in the news? can you name ONE member of the high court? I can’t, and I’m studying political science! this is a good thing. I mean, you should know who is on the high court, but the fact that it’s hardly in the news means that they’re not making decisions that interfere with our day-to-day functioning. why? because there are no PERSONAL rights in the constitution. so cases of rights and freedoms tend to not be sent to the high court. again. you can refer to the US for an example of why a politicised high court is a bad thing

andddd we arrive at point four. we do not need one. we really do not. focussing on personal rights and freedoms kind of takes us away from the kinds of politics that Australia is GOOD at. I like that our political focus tends to be on collectivism rather than individualism. that doesn’t mean we’re perfect, but the ways we’re falling short will not be solved with a bill of rights

this was a bit of a rushed post, but you’re welcome to ask me questions. I’m very ardently against the idea of having a bill of rights, so always happy to talk about it

[mariacallous]

PENRITH, England—A man in overalls whitewashes the front window of yet another shop closing on the city’s main street. Families stockpile blankets to ward off the cold as they sit shivering in their homes with no heating while lines of people who cannot afford to feed their children form at the local food bank. Bars shut their doors early, and some days, they don’t even open at all.

I’m not in Ukraine, where I’ve spent the last year reporting on the devastation caused by Russia’s war. This is life in broken Britain, a quagmire of misery and problems, where even February’s weather is predicted to be colder and glummer than usual.

In Penrith, a Conservative Party-supporting town in the far north of England, most of the shops now close their doors at 4 p.m. and don’t even bother opening three or four days a week. A popular pub—the third in recent months—and a local grocer have announced they are closing after 25 years and 18 years, respectively. Even a local store that sells cut-price clothing, which is (in fact) stock from insolvent chain stores, is closing due to a 50 percent slump in sales.

For the first time in my life, supermarket shelves sit empty due to supply chain problems. There is an egg shortage, a potato shortage, and a shortage of Wi-Fi bars; working in war-torn Ukraine is easier and more comfortable (missiles aside) than trying to do the same in peace-shattered Penrith. Britain’s troubles are legion: the fallout from COVID-19, high inflation, an energy crisis, a cost of living crisis, transport and health sector strikes, food shortages, rising poverty and inequality, the first war in Europe in a generation, and a possible recession. If the winter of discontent does sequels, we’re in it. Chief among all the culprits is the destructive effect of Brexit and bad governance.

Brexiteers promised the country would “take back control.” Instead, it is on course to be the world’s worst-performing big economy this year, according to the International Monetary Fund. It is predicted to be the only major economy to hit a recession in 2023, lagging even behind war-busy and sanctions-hit Russia.

As the third anniversary of Britain’s formal withdrawal from the European Union lands, many people are asking what, exactly, have they gotten control of? Brexit has added red tape and increased costs for both U.K. businesses and the foreign companies that once used Britain as a European base. It has stifled imports and exports as well as sapped investment. It has contributed to both labor shortages and problematic inflation. The U.K.’s Office for Budget Responsibility expected long-term GDP to drop 4 percent because of Brexit—or 100 billion pounds ($124 billion) in lost output and 40 billion pounds ($49 billion) in lost public revenues every year.

London has been one of the world’s biggest financial centers for a couple of centuries and was the largest financial hub in Europe. Brexit prompted finance professionals to relocate to Paris (among other continental destinations), and now the “City of Light” is challenging London. Foreign direct investment in the U.K. has dropped by 4 percent from 2010 to 1.7 percent in 2021. According to a report by the London School of Economics and Political Science, households are paying the brunt of the long-term costs of Brexit. Food bills rose by 210 pounds ($259) on average between 2019 and the end of 2021, costing consumers 5.8 billion pounds ($7 billion) and disproportionately affecting those on a low income. Meanwhile, Scotland, which has been in a union with England since 1707, is pursuing a second independence referendum: 62 percent of its voters wanted to remain in the European Union.

In 2016, 52 percent of Britons voted for Brexit. Buyer’s remorse has set in—belatedly. A recent YouGov poll found that, when asked if it was right to leave the EU, only 34 percent of respondents said yes and 54 percent said no. Yet the government, the same one that is mired in repeated sex and corruption scandals and has had five leaders in six years, maintains its smoke and mirrors stance that Brexit is the path to growth. Last week, Chancellor of the Exchequer Jeremy Hunt—who in fact campaigned for Remain during the referendum—unveiled a plan to get the country back on its feet, saying “Our plan for growth is necessitated, energized, and made possible by Brexit.” Made necessary, at any event. Both the government and the opposition Labour Party refuse to publicly acknowledge the negative effects of Britain’s departure on the economy.

Almost 50 shops closed down every day across the country last year, and the forecast for 2023 is equally bleak. Brexit has left the country with a labor shortfall of 330,000 people, mostly in jobs like transport, storage, hospitality, and retail. Pubs, the stalwart of British society, are increasingly under threat. Tim Martin, owner of the popular low-cost pub chain Wetherspoons, was among the hardest campaigners for Brexit. Now, as he shuts 32 of his pubs, he is urging the government to increase EU migration. It’s beyond irony and into farce.

The Penrith area voted more decisively for Brexit than most of the country, with 53 percent in favor, but now 88 percent of local businesses say they have staffing shortages, according to local media. Bar staff told Foreign Policy that British people no longer want to work in hospitality due to long hours and low pay—and because COVID-19 closures pushed many people to find a new line of work. The problems are not helped by spiraling energy costs—a Penrith Mexican restaurant was quoted at having a 1,000 percent rise in its energy bill by providers at the beginning of winter.

After spending almost a decade abroad, the stark decline of my country is shocking, even after my time in Ukraine. I am typing this wrapped in cardigans and blankets, as it costs 10 pounds ($12.30) to turn the heating on for a few hours at home. People are increasingly turning to food banks amid stagnant wages and rising prices while rail, post, and national health service workers are all implementing rolling strikes. Waiting times even for emergency hospital patients can be longer than 12 hours, and travel is now so expensive that a round-trip bus ticket to nearby market town Keswick, just around 40 minutes away, costs 24 pounds—while the minimum wage is around 10 pounds an hour.

It wasn’t Brexit alone that broke Britain, but facing what by some accounts is the worst decline in living standards in a century, it’s clear Britons could have done without it. It remains to be seen how leaving the EU plays out in the long run, but for now, people are poorer and more miserable, and the country is more isolated. Philosopher Thomas Hobbes was right in the end: Lives are solitary and poor and nasty, if not quite brutish and short. The British can overcome outrages done by foreigners—there’ve been enough of them—but the worst part of all is that we did this to ourselves.