#we're living through a fucking disaster right now

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - A Survivor's Story - Forward But Never Forget/XOXO

Sevika spittin' facts...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"I hear you thinking," Sevika warns, without opening her eyes.

"Thinking?"

"About how to get Jinx away from him."

Despite reflex, Vi doesn't ball her hands into fists. She's getting better at concealment. Not a pro like Sevika. Not a savant like Silco. But she's learning. These past five months, she's learnt enough to last a lifetime. Yet she has so much left to know.

"He's not a monster," Vi says. "I thought he was. Now I understand he's just a fucked-up asshole. But that doesn't mean he's not dangerous."

"He's got his reasons."

"I'm tired of you defending him, Sevika."

"I'm defending—"

"—Zaun?" Vi's jaw grates. "Yeah. That's your big religion. The cause you've given everything to. And he's the messiah. You worship him. The rest of us have to believe too, or be cast out." Her eyes seize Sevika's, daring her to contradict. "It's easy to believe in him, too. I'd like to say otherwise. But I've seen him work in real-time. He's got a mojo. A pull, and he pulls who he wants. But that's not faith, Sevika. That's smokescreen to hide the rot inside. And someone like that, they learn all sorts of strategies to hide it. All that smooth talk, all that drive and charisma—they aren't Silco. They're the bracing that hides the sickness." 

"Look—"

"I have looked," Vi snaps, then takes a stabilizing breath. "I get it, okay? If he hadn't fought for Zaun, we'd still be under Piltover. If he hadn't done awful things, the Fissurefolk would be suffering worse. I understand that. He—Jinx—changed the city in ways no one else could've done. You can't scare monsters unless you're the scarier monster." She shakes her head. "Maybe he's the leader the Undercity—Zaun—needs right now. But what about ten years down the line? Twenty? What kind of shape will our home be if it's just a game of whack-a-villain every minute of every day? How do we take care of each other, if we're at each other's throats? How will Jinx take care of herself as she gets older? She doesn't need more monsters in her life, Sevika. She's got enough. She needs to feel safe. To know that her own city won't chew her up and spit her out if she slips up. To know her own home is behind her and not just a snakepit."

Sevika's features hold a deliberate smoothness. She says nothing.

"What people do isn't always who they are," Vi goes on. "Vander always told me that. I think it's true. For you. For a lot of folks who fought for Silco's cause. It's not true for Silco. Living means changing. Someone who can't change isn't really alive. Silco isn't." She swallows. "Not since Vander drowned him." 

Sevika takes a swallow of her beer. When she's finished, there's a half-smile on her face. Too old a smile, too knowing.

"You're right," she says. "He isn't alive."

Vi stares.

House odds were that Sevika would argue. That she'd shrug off Vi's outburst. Not that she'd pay it off with plainspoken fact.

"He's not alive," she repeats, "because he's forgotten how to be."

"Forgotten?"

"He's not you, Vi." Sevika's tone holds a weird stoicism. "If he was, he'd have had a different story. Not everyone's so lucky."

"Lucky?" Resentment creeps under Vi's skin. "I grew up in the Lanes. Same as you and Silco. I lost my family. My sister was stolen. I spent six years in Stillwater."

"A hard-knock life."

"What's that mean?"

Sevika shrugs. No sarcasm. Just blunt fact. "People in the Lanes—hell, people all over—go through all kinds of shit. They survive wars and famines. They get sold to slavers. They wake up one morning and a crazy Mage burns their village down. Or Noxus rolls in and salts all their fields. It's disaster after disaster. A life of hardship. Some learn early on how to cope. How to deal with pain. Others... it's like they just stop. Stop in time. Stop living completely." Her eyes go heavy-lidded. "Nobody has a perfect childhood. But some kids learn how to be happy, or at least float on when things aren't happy. A lot of it's down to nature. The rest? That's how you grow up. Who teaches you to be strong, and smart, and resilient. For you, it was Vander and your folks. Whoever gave you hope and kept you sane. For me..."

Belatedly, Vi understands.

"It was your sister."

Sevika doesn't flinch. Withdrawing a cigarillo from her pocket, she lights up perfunctorily. Brightleaf drifts in Vi's airspace.

"Don't recall mentioning Nandi to you," Sevika says.

"Silco did." Vi's eyelids droop. She feels tired all of a sudden. Torpid with the humidity; the slanting sunrays. With the surreal passage of time and the inexorable weight of history. "So did Vander, when I was a kid. She was the Priestess at Janna's Temple. Mom liked her." She looks away. "Mom was a believer in the old gods. Said they were a part of us, same as blood. She'd always visit the Temple for the Priestess' prayers. She'd stay for her stories. I remember those stories. I didn't understand 'em much, but I liked listening to her voice. I just never connected..."

That you two were family.

That you lost someone, same as me.

Vi's eyes are dry. But she feels the emotion lodged inside: half-processed.

"I didn't connect the dots," she repeats. "I'm sorry."

A plume of smoke rises pensively from Sevika's lips.

"She was a good woman," she says at length "Better one than me. I've made a career out of breaking bones. Nandi made a calling out of binding them back together.  But it was just a different kind of faith, y'know? She had faith in the divine. I had faith in me and mine. So I took care of her. She took care of me. We were family."

"Like me and Powder."

Sevika says nothing. She tips her chin back, staring at the sun-spangled sky.

"After she passed," Vi says, more tentatively, "you took up with Silco?"

The orientation of Sevika's body shifts.  "Don't recall mentioning that either."

"I—I saw you two."

"Saw us?" 

"Last night." Vi’s tongue burns as the confession slips past. " At the penthouse."

The cigarillo smolders in Sevika's prosthetic fingers: spark and flint. Smoke drifts over her face. Her hair's tied in a high tail today. There's nothing to conceal her expression. Not that there's an expression to conceal. Her eyes, meeting Vi's, reflect nothing in the metalhazy glints.

She is a monolith, and monoliths don't flinch.

Neither does Vi. This isn't a place for shame. They've known each other too long and too bitterly for that.

"I know," Vi mutters. "I know it wasn't my business."

"Then why make it your business?"

"Because—" It's an effort to match Sevika's stare "Because you and him... it's like you're stuck. Stuck on him. Stuck to him. He's bad news, Sevika. Not just for you, but everyone." She takes a shuddery breath, trying to keep the kneejerk anger out. "Whatever you're getting out of it, you can get better elsewhere."

"You offering, Vi?"

The near-flinch becomes a flush. "That's not what I—"

Except Sevika's not challenging her. Her demeanor's the same as when she and Vi used to spar: calm, level, blunt.

The bond between them doesn't go deep. Can't—given their convoluted history. Yet territorial as Sevika is, she takes care of her turf. Looks out for her own. Since Vi's return to the Lanes, she's treated her... not as an ally, but as a fellow Trencher.

They've both known hardship and come out stronger. They both understand that when disaster hits, it can make enemies out of friends—and friends out of enemies. 

Vi and Sevika are neither. They inhabit a shadowy zone in between. But that zone has its own language, and it's a clean one. No deadweight. No dredged-up debts.

Just the give-and-take of hard-hitting truth.

"It's funny," Sevika says. "The way folks throw that word around. Better. They're always thinking of what-ifs. What could be, instead of what is. Me, I like the facts. What's real, not what may come to pass."

"What's real is he's using you," Vi snaps. "Same as he uses everybody. He doesn't love you, Sevika."

"Love." Sevika's lip curls up at one corner. "What’s love got to do with it, little girl?"

"I—what?"

"You say Zaun's my big religion? Well, let me tell you. Love's yours. And it's got you—you, Jinx, Silco—so twisted up in knots, you're a fucking mess."

"I'm not a—"

"A fucking mess," Sevika repeats, and the tone brooks no argument. "All of you. That's the problem. You've got no perspective. No sense of self. No clue what's what. Everything's love, and you tote that word around like junkies with a fix. As if it's the answer to everything. The cure-all. Well, let me break it to you: it's not. Not even close."

"But—" Vi is stunned. "Then what's it for? What's the point?"

"There is no point," Sevika snaps. "Love's not a solution. It's not even a problem. It's just an emotion. And it's not the only one. There's rage. There's grief. There's hate. And they're just as real. Just another part of living." Her jaw hardens. "I loved my sister, Vi. Loved her enough that I'd strangle anybody who'd put a hand on her. Not because she was the best woman in the world—and she was—but because she was the best part of me. She was my family, same way Jinx is yours. When I lost her, I went to war. Didn't care if it was Enforcers, or Topside, or the whole goddamn world. I was ready to tear the planet down. Because I'd already been torn apart. I didn't have anything left."

"Sevika," Vi says, but doesn't finish.

She's been where Sevika has. She understands.

"I was broken," Sevika goes on. "I thought, without love, I'd stay broken. I was wrong. There's a whole lot more to life than that. And Silco..."

Her cadence doesn't waver. But there's a different undercurrent. Something raw, and blisteringly real.

"We had a thing, once," she says. "A shortlived thing. But that's the least of our history, Vi. It's not why I follow him. And it's not why I was with him last night."

"Why, then?" Vi's throat is tight. "Why stay with him?"

"Because… when I was broken, he knew what to do with the brokenness. He didn't ask me to be someone else. Didn't try to put me back together. He took me as I was. Because he understood that grief doesn't just end. It can't. There's no escaping it. But you can't let it end you, either. People have it worse; they have less. Me? I had more. When I had Nandi, I had everything. When I lost her, I lost it all. And what's left was an empty space, and filling it with something. Something that'd last the distance." She lets off a breath. A single strand of smoke uncurls. "Silco gave me that. He put his life in my hands. He laid his cause at my feet. He had faith in me. And that faith meant something."

"A way to go on," Vi says.

"That's the best anyone can ask for." Sevika smiles, and her hard face fills with soft lines. "Love's a fine thing, Vi. But it can't protect your family. It can't keep them safe. You gotta fight for that. And when you've fought as long as I have—taken more lives than you've seen years—it's not about the love. It's about what's left. About doing your part to keep it standing."

"Even if it means dying?"

Sevika doesn't miss a beat. "It's never about dying, Vi. It's about the life you choose before that."

"Silco can't give you a life."

"I know." Sevika's smile dwindles. The softness and hardness don't. "But he's given me everything else. The rest? I'll make do. My sister taught me how."

Vi says nothing. She's run out of arguments. Run, too, out of anger.

They sit in silence, watching the afternoon unfold.

[yinwaryuri]

Okay here I come with thoughts that I'm not sure many people will be on board with, but I'm gonna share anyway because who cares! Wandee Goodday is doing a fantastic job selling characters who are ridiulous, and many of them are charming. I'm gonna talk about the guy who isn't. Charming that is.

I Think Ter Is In The Closet

And I'm only using bits from episode 4 to demonstrate this. Sorry if you need more to be convinced.

Ter is a strange character because we meet him through Wandee, when he's still up on a pedestal. That image almost immediately gets crumpled and tossed into oncoming traffic to be flattened in a rubbery, Bangkok traffic death. Dee confesses his feelings and Ter insists he's straight. He's straight. He's straight! He likes women, not men. Sorry. To make matters worse, he pulls the asshole move of just asking Dee to leave the scholarship to him.

These men have known each other for eight years. Eight fucking years and this is where things are going? If we know how much of a disaster Dee is, then it really makes me wonder what disaster side of himself Ter has (aside from what we know).

(thinking them gaaayyy thoughts) (also this weirdo doesn't listen to music while working out? no wonder he's the devil)

Ter is recalling the moment when Yak came into the hospital with flowers for Dee, called him tee-rak, and the two of them are looking at each other like. Like That.

Super normal for a hetero dude to focus on that part of his long-term colleague's life. And if he were a huge homophobe, I could understand it being a possible upset, but then he wouldn't be so close to Dee if that were the case. This is Golf Tanwarin we're being led by here.

Our Devil Doctor is pulled out of his train of thought by the appearance of a shirtless Plakao

Guys, I won't lie to you, I yelled NO aloud because for a second I thought he was going to have his come to Jesus with our favorite asexual king, and as an asexual who worships Plakao and how amazing he is, I just wasn't gonna have it!

And the first thing Ter notices? Kao is alone - specifically, he isn't accompanied as usual by his bestie Wandee. So Ter immediately interrupts his workout to question him. Kao responds that Dee's with his boyfriend now, which prompts more questioning about their relationship from Ter.

Yeah, Ter. What's it matter to you?

You turned Wandee away because you're straight. So, obviously that's a no, right? Right?

Not addressing that then. Okay. We'll just hit the skip button for that dialogue option, I guess.

As a tenured colleague and friend, that would be the natural reaction to this. Kao is a wise, wise man, and like many an asexual, he has done the work of figuring himself out while living in an allonormative world (while also recognizing he likes men! I cannot stress enough how beautifully nuanced his okay). From what he understands (and is stating for Ter to ponder), is that this would make sense for someone who doesn't harbor any other kinds of feelings toward Dee and until recently, has been on good terms with him.

But Ter doesn't get to ponder because he gets called away and immediately forced to face Dee happily walking hand in hand with Yak. It's awkward. Dee excuses himself and Yak. And then Ter's eyes foooolloooww.....

And later he gets back to his room with the number of the beast and fondly recalls when Dee used to leave snacks on his door....

(crowd goes awww)

But this guy can't help but notice while he's doing an evening workout -

Hey! There are Dee and Yak again! Being all cute in the pool! It's too coincidental! (He had not considered that his colleague works at the same place and has a similar schedule, therefore all this appropriately timed boyfriendism could only happen within that schedule)

So he has to conclude that it isn't real.

Little does Ter know that it was originally intended for YakDee to be fake boyfriends; that he'd stumbled upon the truth immediately. What he wasn't expecting was for Dee to double down not only to not be caught plotting like that, but because he's way further into his feelings for Yak than he is fully aware of.

I cannot stress how interesting it is so see this man be so obsessed over their relationship. Anyone who would call themselves a close friend or colleague would simply be happy for Dee, maybe warn him about some people who are less accepting if that were an issue, and then continue focusing on whatever it is he's doing for the scholarship. And maybe he does focus on the scholarship - we aren't shown his side of it because it's not important - but if that's true and his secondary focus is theorizing that Dee's relationship is fake? TER? WORSTIE?????

And then this happens!

Now I've seen a lot of people taking this as manipulation and I'm not going to call them wrong. It is exactly that. But I think he's also seeing if maybe he missed a chance? It wasn't that long ago that Dee was reminiscing about the past eight years together and Ter had decided the scholarship was more important than pursuing whatever thing they had between each other. Ter is realizing he doesn't want to throw either of them away, but still has his heart with the money. So he improvises a lame little plea, it's badly executed, and we get sad eyes watching Dee leave.

I would've expected him to curse under his breath, or have some sort of small scale tantrum after that interaction if he was fully planning to manipulate Dee like that. His melancholy here is what has me thinking that it wasn't well thought out, and there's a part of him who cares about his relationship with Dee and wishes it could carry on as it used to.

Ter continues to obsess. We know he'd immediately seen the story Dee posted, and it seems he's returning to it again (knowing social media habits, he's likely checked it several times in between).

CAUGHT.

Kwan, in contrast to Ter, is also Dee's colleague. She finds him and his boxer boyfriend just charming!

This line kills the entire conversation. There's very obvious tension about this subject.

To me this is where Ter has kinda said the quiet part out loud. He's more concerned about his own image. To whom? His family? His patients? Future opportunities? To himself? Not that there's nothing for Dee to be worried about (this is in Thailand where gay marriage is not legal yet, after all), but he has had a good reception of being publicly queer so far. Is that due to his queerness being more pronounced? Has Ter ridden for most of his life on being able to pass as straight because he was afraid of the consequences?

I'm gonna take a hard left for a moment, and then redirect.

There's a scene in the film To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar where a sheriff (who has had an altercation with a drag queen and is looking for her for severely homophobic reasons) sits in a saloon and essentially narrates gay erotica aloud like he's trying to process the concept of homosexuality. He's disturbed about the idea. The people around him are also disturbed by his imaginings. It almost gives the sense that his thoughts come from desire, but he's been taught too much hate about that desire to recognize it.

And this is the moment where I just felt sorry for Ter. It seems like he maybe has some deep-seated denial, and it's being overturned by everything Dee is doing. It doesn't excuse him, but shit's gotta suck. And it's clear his disturbance with the idea of Dee having gotten over any feelings for him will be hard to reckon with on top of deciding how he feels about Dee himself. P'Golf does their antagonistic and confused gays well.

[legobiwan]

Gravity Falls fic rec list...Part 2.

I should be grading writing right now, but in the spirit of procrastination, I'm going to instead post about my favorite new fics that have emerged in the post-Book of Bill era.

~~~~~~

Gen Fics

A Mariner’s Guide to the Unexplained by mariezies

Another fic that tackles the idea of Stan's criminal past coming back to haunt him as the elder Pines twins take to the sea. What I really like about this fic are Ford's inner monologues and in particular, the way he overthinks his interactions with his brother post-Weirdmaggedon due to the crushing level of guilt he feels. Bonus points for the incredibly adorable cat OC who joins the twins on the Stan o'War II. Incomplete.

We're Still Here by Simplistic_Apricity

What if Stan hadn't knocked Ford through the portal in 1982 and stuck around Gravity Falls instead? A bajillion fics have been written about this concept, but this one takes a slightly different approach as to the fallout from a Bill-possessed Ford attacking his brother as Ford slowly (slowly) comes to terms with what exactly he has wrought in that basement. The characterization and interactions of the twins and Fiddleford are incredibly grounded, avoiding melodrama while still being wildly effective. Incomplete. TWs for violence and medical trauma.

~~~~~~

Billford Fics

Not to sound like a 2013 hipster, but I do want to state that I hopped on this seafaring vessel pre-BoB and am delighted to witness the explosion of works exploring the demented, tortured relationship between these two absolute disasters. I've decided to let my cringe flag fly high and free here, with the caveat that I only indulge in triangle!Bill stories (accept no substitutions), as, let's face it, Ford is a freak (affectionate) and he loves his geometry.

Statement Abnegation by Anonymous

This one probably needs no introduction, but I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't include it on my list. A+ characterization of both Ford and Bill and it fucking nails the landing. Ford is taken prisoner during Weirdmaggedon, but this time Bill's playing for keeps. Complete. TWs for torture, death (temporary), Stockholm syndrome, and explicit sexual content.

apology tour by dolorous

There's something downright wistful about this story, which presents as "crack taken seriously" when Bill chooses Ford to be his keeper/chaperone as part of a Theraprism-mandated apology tour to those he has wronged post-BoB. Ford hates Bill. Ford sometimes doesn't hate Bill. Ford definitely hates Bill. And now they're stuck on the road trip from hell. Complete. Implied past (current/future?) relationship, no sexual content.

Then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem by tempusedaxrerum

Takes place post-Betrayal but (so far) pre-Stanley arriving in Gravity Falls. Bill is determined to drag Ford into opening the Portal, kicking and screaming (limbs optional). Features an incredibly well-developed OC who is battling demons of her own when she has the misfortune of crossing paths with both Bill and Ford on a snowy evening in Oregon. Incomplete. TWs for violence, attempted sexual assault via possession, substance abuse.

Live, Laugh, Lather, Rinse, Repeat by ShibaIntuit

The conceit of this story is absolutely wild. Essentially, Ford eats a cursed piece of pizza and suffers from existential indigestion. The world-building once Ford is in the multiverse is delightful as an older Ford tries to renegotiate his past with a Bill Cipher of thirty years previous. Incomplete. TWs for violence.

as falls gravity so falls gravity falls by underwater_owl

A series of three stories that take a deep dive into Ford's subconscious while exploring the idea of the Axolotl placing Bill under Ford's mental power due to shenanigans you are better off reading about than me explaining here. Bait & Switch is the main narrative, which is a gen work featuring the whole extended Pines family plus Mabel and Dipper's mother, while Because & Despite and Cause & Effect explore the intense psychosexual relationship between Ford and Bill before and during the events of Bait & Switch. These last two stories really dig into the nature of Ford's deepest and darkest desires and the utterly twisted relationship between Ford and Bill. Incomplete. TWs for explicit sexual content (read the tags on those two last stories, folks! This author isn't, or is, I suppose, fucking around).

Snakes in the Garden by Miss_Ginger_Bread

Another Jimmy Snakes story! Because both Pines twins have terrible taste in men/demonic entities. A ghost from Stan's past shows up in Norway, prompting Ford to take matters into his own hands. Lovely interactions between the Pines twins, including a murderous, protective Ford and a Ford who is harboring a gigantic, triangle-shaped secret from his brother. Incomplete. TWs for abusive relationships.

[writerobscura]

The USA

Sorry for the radio silence; I'm still processing how 51% of my country thinks it's okay to elect a bigoted, misogynistic felon to the presidency.

This election is a reminder that half of this country is so fucking hateful that they're willing to elect someone that makes us a laughing stock around the globe while those who bought and paid for his campaign gut democracy.

Are you doing better than you were four years ago? Of course not. You were getting subsidy checks Biden pushed through a Republican congress post-pandemic.

Wages went up for essential workers, and that expense got passed on to you because corporations aren't going to short to their shareholders - and the President can do nothing about that without holding companies accountable to regulation - which our new president has no intention of doing.

The next two years:

My adult children will lose their healthcare when he and his Republican senate quash the Affordable Care Act - but hey, so long as you have a few extra bucks at the end of the month for cigs and beer, what do you care?

Some states will be able to seize the medical records of women and mothers and use those records to fine or put them in jail (abortion, IVF, getting your trans teen the care they need) - but hey, none of those things affect you personally, so fuck 'em and hey, women aren't even human, am I right you newly registered voting Gen Z fellas?

College debt, infrastructure repairs, social programs - kiss all that goodbye because fucking the planet up is a small price to pay so you can get gasoline for under $2.99. Oh, and that Latino spouse? All it takes is one call from a disgruntled 'Murican and our new INS will be there with 'post-citizenship deportation review' papers.

Wars? How easily everyone forgets that Ukraine is at war right now because your guy failed to help him when Russia flooded his country with separatists. You think he's going to stop arming Israel? Where's the money in that?

Xenophobia may have worked when the USA was 100% self-sufficient in the 1900s, but it cannot be done in this day and age - but hey, going back to the old days is what it's all about, right?

Living in a hurricane or natural disaster prone state? You better pray to whatever G*d you worship that nothing happens in the next 2 years because the Pubs have the Senate and the presidency - no more FEMA funds and 'emergency handouts.'

Tariffs instead of taxes on the rich? Zero-sum situation. Guess how many companies import basic things just to make the shit you eat and use daily? Monsanto is no longer an American company, most farmers in the USA 'import' their seed, though because lack of corporate regulation has allowed them to destroy all farms that don't use their seed. While we're on the subject of tariffs, any foreign company can say, "We just won't sell to you, America." What's the backup plan? Oh, right, he has none.

Prices will rise, wages will stagnate, tariffs won't work, so guess who gets billed for that deficit? Not the wealthy—they spent billions electing this assclown, and there's no way they're investing one damned penny in the rest of us.

But hey, they know you can take it because you voted to have all this...You voted for all of the above at the expense of literally half your fellow countrymen.

If Kamala won, you would've lost NOTHING. Your worst case scenario under her presidency is that you would've been running in place financially while those you consider morally or racially beneath you, might've been gotten ahead a few steps.

So yeah, 51% of my country would rather watch it all burn down than suffer anyone they consider less of a human being, be given an equal chance.

[mcl602023]

summary: y/n and drew break up and she writes a song about him what will his reaction be?

⏳-angst/sad.

warnings? not really apart from crying and arguing.

i recommend listening to the song whilst reading!!!!

who do i call now?

4 months ago.

still in the blue say that i miss you silence.

i sit on my bed staring at nothing. i feel empty like ive been used and like i was never anything but a place holder.

sit on my phone tryna refrain from dialling.

looking at his contact on my phone. i still haven't changed his name or his picture.

wondering do i call? or do i leave him alone?

say when we're good then we're good when we're bad we're a disaster.

(flashback)

were sat here laughing over a joke about something silly he heard earlier whilst he was at set "god i love you" he says making my stomach erupt into butterfly's

"i love you so much more" i reply kissing his cheek.

(...)

2 hours later.

"god your so insecure it's actually a joke!"he screams at me.

i feel the tears filling up my eyes blurring my vision.

"it's not my fault okay? you know what i've been through im sorry"i shout back with a wobbly and shaky voice.

he scoffs rubbing his hands over his face.

"it's honestly pathetic you really think there's something going on with me and her?"he questions with anger written all over his face and venom in his words.

"well it's a little bit hard not to overthink it when your hand is on her ass!"i spit back.

make out, slam the door then text you right after.

he walks up to me grabbing my face in his hands and giving me a harsh kiss before walking over to the door opening it and slamming it shut as he walks out.

drew💗

__________________________________

i'm sorry, come home x

read 16:21.

__________________________________

i don't miss the drama but god i miss your laughter.

(end of flashback)

present day.

drew's pov.

"guys quick she's on stage in a minute!" i hear madelyn shout from hers and chases living room.

jesus why am i even here i think to myself sitting down on the couch.

just then the tv presenter starts speaking.

"please welcome to the stage y/n y/l/n!."

she appears on the screen looking beautiful. she's dyed her hair y/h/c and is now y/h/l.

and oh my god does she look so good in the outfit she's wearing.

austin shushes everyone as y/n begins singing.

"so who do i call now? i'd give it all now just to be fighting in the kitchen hearing the crash of broken dishes."

i start to get flashbacks of us arguing and me smashing dishes when everything got too much.

"thought it was bad then this heartache is hellbent id fall asleep to the television drown out the sound of your voice missing."

"now i'd do anything for you to yell at me."

"she looks heartbroken. why did i do this to her?" i silently question myself.

(flashback)

y/ns pov.

you left so quietly

but your silence is deafening.

i wake up the morning after another big argument with drew.

i reach over and pat the bed expecting his warmth to be there.

but there's nothing? he was in bed when i came back home though?

where is he?

i brush of the negative feeling in my gut that tells me something isn't right.

i walk out of our shared bedroom and begin to make myself coffee when i notice nearly all of his belongings are gone.

what the fuck?

i notice a note left on the coffee table.

"y/n im sorry but i need to focus on myself and i cannot do that if i am with you.i love you and im sorry it ended like this -drew."

(end of flashback)

drew's pov.

"hung by a thread sometimes i wish you'd cut it hit me so low then act like your so above it"

i can feel the intense stares of my friends but my focus remains on y/n as she sings i can see small tears falling down her beautiful face that you wouldn't notice unless you were actually looking.

"see when we're high we're so high then we crash and we shatter and make out like we're fine and fall back into old patterns"

"i don't miss the drama but god i miss your laughter"

"bro you messed up" i hear jd saying while slightly shaking his head.

"i know okay you don't have to tell me"i reply with a tear running across my cheek.

i zone out while she's singing a verse but eventually come back into reality when i hear the beat fasten up and get bassiser.

"i always come back like a sickness built the antibodies up get you out my system the audacity to call yourself the victim kick me down say it's not malicious"

"you use it all against me when i tell you things or even worse your not listening i used to go to you for everything"

i remember all the times she showed up at my doorstep before we moved in together crying about a minor thing that she didn't really need to be crying over.

"so who do i, who do i call now?".

And just like that the songs over and the crowd is cheering.

“i'd just like to thank you all for listening to this song tonight it means the world to finally be able to perform this for you"

she begins speaking and just hearing her voice is enough to have a few more tears stream down my face.

"i love you all thank you for tonight, goodnight!"

she shouts into the mic before running off stage.

what have i done?

my sweet beautiful y/n. i miss the way after every argument you'd still have a glimmer of hope in your eyes. i miss the way your eyes would sparkle with joy and happiness.

i took that from you.

i'm so sorry angel.

i will forever regret my mistake.

______________________________________

a/n: okay so this is my first time writing an imagine and idk this feels so cringe 😭

[autumngracy]

So my county (Orange County, New York) is in a drought rn with no real end in sight; it's been two and half months since we got any substantial rain, and in that time it's only lightly drizzled for a maybe a few hours, like twice.

There is currently a wildfire burning close by, which has burned over 2000 acres already and was started by a guy in New Jersey illegally firing tracer bullets (which contain magnesium) at the Central Jersey Firing Range. (He has since been charged with arson.)

This morning, the sky was red at sunrise. The air quality is getting steadily worse. The wildfires are a 0% containment. A firefighter has already died because of a tree falling on him. People are worried about the fire (which is burning on BOTH sides of the Hudson) reaching large residential areas nearby.

The only thing that can help us now is rain, but it has to be a slow and steady rain, because the ground is so dry and hard-packed that if we get a heavy rainfall, the ground will not be able to absorb it fast enough, and it will cause flash flooding.

There was a massive flash flood last year, considered a "once in a thousand years" event, that damaged or destroyed a huge amount of infrastructure, roads, and buildings in this area, many of which still have not been fully repaired or protected from further storm damage.

About 30% of the land at our house was literally washed away down the creek that runs though it, which had been at a trickle before, and turned into a 8 foot flood surge in the course of few hours.

The government had promised disaster relief money for our town (and surrounding towns) due to the damage from this event, but later, after much of the repair had already gotten underway, backed out and left the towns to foot the bill themselves.

My family would have been completely financially devastated if we had been forced to pay for the repairs to our property (we're talking like, over a million dollars of damage; SEVERAL times what the property is worth), but because there were key public infrastructure elements running through it (a storm drain, a sewer manhole, and an overpass for the road that went over the creek) the town ended up paying for ALL of the repairs, because they were all issues that needed to be fixed immediately and affected everyone in the town.

I am so fucking worried right now that either the wildfires are going to reach us, or rain comes in time to stave them off but it comes too heavy and causes another massive flash flood.

I need people to understand how completely bonkers it is that this is happening in this area. Like. I've lived here for around 15 years and that WHOLE time this area has only ever had like, one other official drought, and only for like, a day or two. We are RIGHT on the Hudson river, with creeks running all over, but the creeks have mostly dried up, we've been under a Red Flag burn ban for weeks, and our town is having a water shortage.

Also, besides the lack of rain, it's the second fucking week of November, but we've been having days in the high 60's, 70's, and even 80's, and there's only been a few days recently that dropped down into 50's, 40's or 30's, and only in the coolest parts of the night.

I've only had to wear an actual coat so far this season like, twice. It was in the high 70's and low to mid 80's all through the week of Halloween. When I stood in line for 2+ hours to vote, during sunset, it was balmy out. The previous presidential election, at the same location and time, had been so cold that I'd been freezing despite many layers of warm clothing, and I couldn't feel my extremities by the time I was able to cast my vote. But last week? It was BALMY.

There are still flowers blooming and putting out buds. There are tomatoes ripening on the vine. There are still flying insects outside. All these things should have been getting hit by frost like a month ago and started the process of going dormant. Now, if cold does suddenly hit, it's probably going to shock and kill off a lot of plant life.

This shit is NOT normal. Climate change is real.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 8

it’s hard to figure out where you fit in. 

it’s not so easy for me to make friends. i’m not cool like you.

you’re making it really hard for me to be mad at you right now.

it was my fault. i made a mess of it.

something dreadful is about to happen.

high school is the best your life was ever going to get.

you’re gonna leave here thinking that you need to worry about me, but you’re wrong.

we did so much fucked up shit out there. and yeah, maybe it was to survive. maybe. but i don’t think we deserved to.

if you’re done crying, i can tell you some stories.

you sound like you’re about to snap someone in half with that tongue of yours. 

what are you saying, i’m not innocent?

i don’t want to be something you have to learn to live with.

you know me. i don’t always listen.

you are my ghost story.

i know you don’t think you’re strong enough, but that’s not true.

it’s family. there’s always an explosion. 

someone like you, you seem serious. i’m not sure i’m ready for serious.

understand that i love you, but i will not be waiting up for you.

i spent a long time feeling like i wasn’t enough, and i don’t want to do that anymore.

what about you and me against the world? you and me in the world.

you think i’m lonely?

your job is cooler than mine.

stop smiling, i’m kicking your ass.

i’m chasing ghosts. long story.

you’re itching for a fight.

your neck, it’s bleeding.

there’s “packing away” and there’s “throwing away.”

this is what i get for disobeying your orders.

do you wanna die? answer me. do you wanna die?

you can’t put all your feelings in a box.

we’re actually back on the same side.

if what matters to you most is how other people see you, then you haven’t learned a damn thing.

you think pain is weakness?

why are you worried about a lack of trauma?

we're finally hot, at least according to me.

with them, it’s always two steps forward, then get stabbed in the back.

i crack myself open for 50 minutes, walk out feeling like i was hit by a bus.

i kissed someone. or, they kissed me.

i don’t want to keep on making the same mistakes.

you’re family. it’s what we do. we look out for each other.

are you going to come back?

i don’t have anywhere else to go. you made sure of that.

you were worth the wait.

i guess now i know all your secrets. 

don’t make it weird. i love you.

i’d hate for things to get messy again.

talk about your dumb luck.

it doesn’t matter. you always come first.

why is it your job to take those risks?

i’m saying, i love you. and i want you to quit. 

it was a big deal to me. you saved my life.

the truth is worth everything.

don’t settle for being half of anything. go out there and do something that allows you to be 100% you.

people go away. i don’t want to miss anyone else.

people go away. and it’s sad and it hurts. but you know, not everyone goes away forever. sometimes they come back.

i know what it’s like to be stuck inside the worst part of your life.

no offense, but you’re never the one getting left behind. you’re the one who leaves.

now it’s time for me to figure out who i am without you.

you are like, out of control. 

you know i’m really in love with you, right?

if today can be a good day, maybe tomorrow can, too. 

i already feel like a fool. i don’t need the rest of the world to know the joke.

everyone wants to save the world, they just disagree on how.

i wonder if anyone survived.

i’m not usually the “take it easy” type.

do you ever want something good to happen? a really good thing?

there are no answers here.

your type is losers.

one nightmare isn’t necessarily a reason for concern.

that’s not why i came. i’m only here for you, in case you needed me.

i have walked through fire every single day of my life because of you.

you're so hot when you talk shit like that.

it’s all a goddamn prison anyway.

you want a natural disaster? look no further than my life.

i haven’t felt it in years, and it feels wonderful. but it also feels fucking terrifying.

if i’m repressing things i don’t know about, i’m very okay with never figuring it out.

you should be ashamed.

i love you. and as long as i know you feel the same, i can say it enough for the both of us.

i feel a lot of things when i’m with you. happy, safe, a million other things that i can’t explain right now. but i do feel all of that for you.

i’m not pushing anyone away. i’m taking steps back.

home isn’t a place, it’s a people.

all you’ve got out there is your instincts.

love me anyway.

i don’t think good things are gonna happen to me anymore.

sometimes the hardest part is going home by yourself, being alone with all that quiet.

if it’s meant to be, they’ll find their way home.

no one gets under their daughter’s skin like a mom.

i’m not ashamed. i’m glad i’m alive, just like you are.

you’re a good person. you really don’t belong in this place.

life isn’t a science experiment. you can’t control your world forever.

do you ever get tired of winning? or being the fucking worst?

you two together, you are unstoppable.

so who’s gonna die today? you? or me?

hey, you’re back. are you back…?

i know you’re afraid of people leaving you.

i’m afraid that i’m never going to feel normal again.

[zmediaoutlet]

closing lines of a 4th-c. woman’s epitaph to her husband:

Now with all these things wrenched away I am a mourning spouse: happy, if the gods had left me a living husband; but happy nonetheless, because I am yours & was yours & after death, soon, I will be yours.

***

Parking lot was a disaster. Sam managed to get his truck into a spot -- didn't double park in the pick-up lane, unlike some people -- but he hopes whoever's in the Toyota next to him doesn't have a passenger, or if they do that the passenger's pretty thin. Like, model-thin. Now it's the hallways, milling adults looking lost, kids rolling their eyes and tugging on hands, lockers decorated with Welcome, Parents! in carefully printed bubble letters.

"Da-aad."

"Yeah, coming," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes, like every other kid. Sam tries not to let it bother him. Every kid goes through this phase. He did, at least. He doesn't have a lot of experience, otherwise.

Dean leads the way, confident, and polite at least to other parents when they have to squeeze past. How Sam knows he isn't fucking this up completely. He slips through a gap that only a fourth grader could manage, though, and Sam's left to dance politely around a rotund couple he doesn't recognize, scolding some older twin boys under their breath. The wife finally notices him and looks up and then up, blinking, and Sam takes the look he's used to. "God, sorry!" she says, sticking out an arm and shuffling her kids out of the way to make a space. "Like a cattle call in here, huh?"

"Moo," Sam says, which makes her laugh too hard, which makes her husband frown, but then he's past, where Dean's bouncing in his light-up sneakers, annoyed. Sam pushes his hand through Dean's hair before he can duck away. "What?"

"Moo?" Another eyeroll. Sam should maybe tell him the lie about getting stuck that way. "You are so weird. And we're gonna be late."

"When have we ever been late?"

Dean does actually grab Sam's hand, yanking. Sam lets himself be pulled, enjoying at least that his kid's deigning to hold Dad's hand after being far too old for it, at least as Sam's been told. "Last year? Mrs. McMorrow made us reschedule!"

"I think getting in a car accident was a decent excuse," Sam says, mild, and Dean groans and says, "Come on," stomping ahead down past the 5th grade classrooms to where Ms. Valdez is, see, just saying goodbye to the previous couple. Sarah Gold's parents, given that Sarah's waiting on the little blue plastic chair outside, reading a library book, making Dean halt in his tracks and making Sam almost run into the back of him. He's heard a lot about how Sarah's very, very annoying. Most annoying girl in school. Somehow she always gets an invitation to Dean's birthday parties, anyway.

Sam fits a hand around Dean's little shoulder. Small bones. Always makes him feel like a giant and also not big enough, like he needs to be planet-sized to protect this kid from all that could be. Still. A girl's not that scary. "See, on time," he says, easy, and Dean's blushing deeply when he shrugs.

Ms. Valdez is a good teacher, Sam thinks. She's in her late twenties, which Sam knows is plenty old enough but still makes her feel like a kid to him. If he does the math she really could be his kid. She's nice but not saccharine, complimentary but not a suck-up. Dean seems to be doing okay. He likes math and science, loves P.E., suffers through his music and art specials, does the reading but insists he doesn't like the 'girl books'. "I think he's overcompensating," Ms. Valdez says, and laughs lightly, and Sam's hit with this strange weird flush that makes him queasy, for a second. His throat closing.

She blinks at him. "Mr. Winchester?" Then, uncertain: "I didn't mean--"

"No," he says. An effort to smile but he does it anyway. "I think you're right. It's important to look tough in front of the right people, if you know what I mean."

She smiles back, relieved. She is young. "Maybe he'll grow out of it. Although, maybe not. Some boys never do."

"No," he says, "they don't."

She shows him the units they'll be going through for the rest of the term. Egyptian mythology, with art components and a small writing assignment and a research paper, just to get the kids used to what sources mean, writing in paragraphs instead of often-incomplete sentences. She leans close. Smells like jasmine. He realizes only when the twenty minutes of the conference are about up that she's been flirting, the whole time. Her smile small and her eyes softly dark, telling him that Dean's a good kid, and if it's not rude to say she thinks he's done very well, since the divorce, and he seems to be adjusting. She was sorry not to see Mrs. Winchester, this evening.

"She never actually took my name," Sam says, and Ms. Valdez -- Marisol, he remembers -- lets her mouth form a small moue, like -- he doesn't know. Some implication he should pick up, if he were looking to do so, but he isn't. She is pretty. Long dark hair she sweeps into a messy bun, full mouth, elegant hands with bitten nails. Apparently has a thing for older men. But--

He comes out into the hall where Dean's sitting on the little plastic chair the lovely Sarah has vacated, eating a cupcake. "Hey, where'd you get that?" Sam says. He has a sense of having dodged a bullet.

Dean shrugs. "Honors Society kids having a bake sale," he says, garbled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and chews like a cow, exaggerated. "Well, I want one. Lead the way, buddy."

They make their way out to what this school thinks is a playground. The 2030s have really just taken away all of the possible edges from being a kid. They sit on a bench under a tree and Sam bites into his cupcake while Dean mows through his second. Awful, storebought, chemical-tasting frosting. Cake. They don't have it very often.

It's a pretty night. Warm, for the time of year. The moon up, nearly full, past all the school lights, and Sam thinks that after this they'll go pick up a pizza, maybe, and they'll go back to the house, and he'll let Dean watch an episode of that new Star Trek cartoon -- or is it Wars? he can never remember -- and then he'll have to insist about bedtime and Dean will whine but he'll go because despite the eyerolling he is a good kid, confirmed, the best thing Sam's got in his life at this point, and from how things have gone the best thing he'll have, from the end of that place that was and where he'll never be again, until...

"Da-ad."

He blinks. Dean's sitting crosslegged on the bench, looking at him, eyebrows high. "What?"

"You were on Planet Dad again," Dean says. No eyeroll. "Did you run into any Cardassians? Or like, a big Andorian cruiser?"

"Yeah," Sam says. "Fought 'em off with my lightsaber."

"Da-ad, you know that's Star Wars," Dean says, genuinely offended, and Sam huffs, cups the side of his head. His face that's entirely his own, some mix of his parents that ended up not looking much like either of them somehow, but his expression, sometimes. Something around the eyes.

"I'll get it one day, buddy," Sam says.

"Sure," Dean says, doubtful, and slides off the bench, bouncing on his toes, ready for pizza. They get pizza and they watch the show -- Trek, who knew -- and Sam puts him to bed with the exact amount of whining he knew he'd get and turns out the light -- knows Dean will read comics by flashlight, with the flashlight that always has fresh batteries in his bedside table -- and he looks at the small lump in the blankets through the crack in the door for a solid minute, standing in the hallway of the house he never wanted. Then he goes downstairs and pours himself a drink, and goes out to the porch where the night's getting cold, and he sits on the deck chair that he really ought to repaint and looks up at the stars and he thinks, god. God.

Then he goes inside, and goes to bed, and there's the next day to get through, after that.

[she-ismysun]

The Rookie 6x06 Live Blog Thread

Obvious spoilers ahead 🫡💫

I can't . for your own good. LMAO Angela !! First off, why is tim just leaving his car unlocked. Second, how long has he been in his car?? I didn't strike tim as a man to leave that many wrappers in the front seat of his car

"If I get fired.. I start living off my husband's trust fund :D" i love you angela

Oh boy. RIP Nolan, getting turned left and right with disaster. Unsolved murder, escaped convict, BAILEY WANTING A KID

I do really enjoy ad breaks for live Television. it gives me a minute to breathe and process and pee LMAO

Really? You're gonna walk away from your job, your relationship with Lucy.. angela's saying what we're all thinking. She's the realest.

*reminder to look for that Tim gif

"This is very annoying" [angela look]

PFFFF "I'm a grown man, I don't have a bff"

why confess to the murder by lie about the method indeed...

anyone else think this mom and daughter look wayy too close in age to be mom and daughter? No shade to teen moms, she just looks so super young and good for a mom

CUNTY? WHY HE COME OUT THE CAR LIKE THAT?? A good ol twirl and all. Slayful

oh yeah. timothy "the reaper" bradford

ok what the hell is the tea. it can't have just been lying on a report says Angela.

"I put my career above my oath" 💔

OAHDLK NOT THE "expecting mommy" book. Bailey, this is the whole reason he didn't continue dating Jessica (well there was more but he didn't want more kids!) "The longer you let me have hope, the more painful it'll be"

welcome back lucy. its been the whole half episode HEUHFDLJAKS WHAT THE FUCK. RAY? GE THT EFUCK AWAY FROM HERE. YOU CANT JUST COME IN

the way my heart just dropped. chat i am NOT ok

"YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHATS GOING ON RIGHT NOW. NOW!!!! STOP TRYING TO PROTECT ME!"

I am DONE being the good girlfriend! You don't have to tell me everything but you HAVE to let me in *cue ad break*

PHEWWW. Nyla and Aaron are always beefing bro. I mean fair! Fair maiming from Nyla but whew.

I'm so used to watching on Hulu and being back to rewind every 5 seconds because i Didn't catch everything. lmao nice moves Nolan with da soap

also i desperately need captions and there are *none* rewatching tomorrow in class <3

oh what the fish. my stream FROZE . AND i got spoilers for Greys 😭

OH HELLO???? IA INVESTIGATION. Timothy?!?! why the HELL are you lying?! to IA!!! and how the hell is this going to come back to bite him in the ass. Tim *knowingly* falsified reports. Lying through his damn teeth. Not something I wa slooking forward to or expecting.

NYLA PRETENDING TO NOT KNOW HOW TO SHOOT A GUN IS SO FUCKING FUNNY.

so IA investigation closes without a hitch. No one gets in trouble. Not Tim. Not Angela. Not Lucy.

OU. THE HUG. THERE WAS SO MUCH HURT IN THAT. QUICK. -

UM SO. i quickly had to abandon this thread beacuse I couldn't even enjoy a chenford comfort hug. because it wasn't that. TIMOTHY BRADFORD. WHAT IS HAPPENING

[eriexplosion]

I have nothing to do this weekend so it is Catch Up On Rewatch time. We're up to Decomissioned!

I genuinely love that this episode begins a very long tradition of the batch making basically Zero goddamn money for Cid because they never accomplish the actual goal she sent them there for

I love the Grime of Ord Mantell so much

Like this? It is a fucking look.

"What if it was shiny" WHAT IF IT WAS GROSS AND COVERED IN DIRT AND RUST AND HAD SOME GUY SLEEPING ON IT?

The woman wandering into Cid's looked drunk already but Omega nearly shooting her in the face sobered her up REAL goddamn quick.

Bolo and Ketch are my beloved boys, crime uncles to go with the crime grandma for Omega. I don't know what their crimes actually are but look at them. They're definitely up to crimes.

This is just a sweet moment though, even if Omega is getting frustrated, everyone gathered around to watch her practice. She's not a natural but SHE'S LEARNING.

Cid: I assume you boys know what a tactical droid is?

Tech:

This is unsurprisingly one of my favorite moments he literally looks like he's going to explode when no one speaks up. IS NO ONE ELSE GOING TO TAKE THIS INCREDIBLY EASY QUESTION?

"You make money, I make money, and I watch your back." You fool. You will never get any money from these people.

CID WITH THE BOW IS HOT OKAY, I AM AN EASY MARK.

You know I'm surprised this facility doesn't sell the tactical droid modules themselves, like I'm sure it's imperial funded to get rid of all the separatist droids but come on, no one in the factory other than the Martez sisters is stealing these things?

BEING THE LOOKOUT WAS CROSSHAIR'S JOB. I'm sure Hunter loves getting that reminder of his Failure to keep his family together.

THE GIRLS ARE HERE <3

DON'T JUST STAND THERE. GRAB A WEAPON. "I had one >:T"

Omega was literally about to shoot Rafa at point blank range though like imagine her first kill was from about 2 feet away

SHOULD I HAVE LET THE DROID SHOOT YOU? Hunter has zero patience right now he is So Grouchy the instant Rafa opens her mouth

No worries just jump over the flaming pit of death Wrecker. Nothing bad can happen when you jump over the flaming pit of death.

LITERALLY STOLE THE DROID HEAD AND LEFT THE CHILD TRAPPED ON THE CONVEYOR BELT TO HELL.

God this moment with Wrecker's chip partially activating is so good.

Trace literally stops and realizes the child is going to be dumped into the slag and does NOTHING ABOUT IT FOR SO DAMN LONG. SHE COMES THROUGH IN THE END BUT GOD HOW LONG YOU GONNA STAND THERE?

I love them, they're disasters.

"Fine but I still don't like you." "I'M USED TO IT." This is very much like Hunter with Phee in season 2 he just gets so fucking cranky.

WRECKER HEARING "GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS" IN CROSSHAIR'S VOICE IS SO FUCKING MUCH. Love this set up for next episode by which I mean I am horrified by it.

I'm easy, I find it hilarious when Echo makes a dad joke about their name.

THIS WILL HELP ME ACCESS THE PROGRAM. *TECH LITERALLY STABS THE DROID WITH SOME FORM OF SPIKE*

Honestly seeing Rafa again makes me remember those fake leaks when everyone was freaking the absolute fuck out over the idea that Rex/Rafa was going to be a thing in season 2 and honestly I still love the idea. I think that Rex falling for a garbage girl with thieving little raccoon hands is the funniest thing I've ever heard. He found a girlfriend in the dumpster.

Our first real push towards 'you can't just endlessly run away while doing it all for the money' from Trace. Again I am stuck on this, that you can't push for two seasons for the batch to actually stand up to the Empire and fight, to actually push back, and then have it turn out they should have just kept never getting involved anyway if they wanted to live. I'm chewing on the walls and the beams.

"in the end, we all choose sides" anyway this is why I think the very end of the show will be the batch together and actively choosing to go against the Empire, not because they're soldiers but because they're a family and they're fighting for each other. But unfortunately I don't think it will be as simple as retirement even if it's what they deserve, because of bits like this. At the very least, they're active in helping Rex get the other clones somewhere safe, even if they're not diving in to fight directly.

The way they hide who Rex is to make it look like the girls immediately turned on them doijsofd

SOON WE'RE GONNA HAVE REX THOUGH. THE BOY.

[cozza-frenzy]

Okay so it's been a bit since I made a "State Of The System" post, but... to be honest we're a mess right now. We're not doing great. Trigger warnings are in the tags. For a start, both of our persecutors, Jeremy and Getter, are dormant. According to Dr. Brewer - who was the last alter to have contact with them - this was a conscious decision they both made. Ongoing real life situations that I can't talk about in detail mean that their continued pressure on the system could have caused a collapse, similar to the Mass Fusion Disaster, so they went dormant to make sure there is still a system to come back to someday. Hopefully when we see them again, we'll be better equipped to deal with their problems, and they'll be more able to accept help. Besides that, apparently we're going through another discovery phase, which means we've had a series of alters show up that were extremely limited in their purpose and didn't exist for very long. These included Seamus, Chainey, Harley, Cooper, and several unknown/unnamed fragments - all of them either fused outright with someone else, or disintegrated into their component parts and ceased to exist. I've been hesitating to update our headcount for a while, but Gadget and Anarchy have returned from dormancy, and the only new ones so far who've stayed are Susan Sto Helit and Tim Stoker. Susan is an introject from Discworld, and she seems to have split to help deal with our ongoing poor mental health. During a particularly low point, things spiraled out of control, and I (Terry) suffered a spontaneous "fatal" injury in our inner world - a hole through the center of my chest, a metaphor for losing my will to live. It would have put me into dormancy or broken me apart if the others hadn't intervened, and pooled their efforts to restore hope and heal the damaged part of me. Susan appeared the next day, and appears to be handling our fears of uncertainty and instability, as well as taking care of our suicidal ideation. She's not particularly social and doesn't seem interested in fronting, so she's an assumed Fragment. Tim is an introject from The Magnus Archives, and is the first "full" alter that's shown up for quite a while. Apparently he was active during our time in college (this was before we knew we had DID/OSDD, so he didn't gain an identity until now) and went dormant after we were physically assaulted in a nightclub for being queer. Like his source, he's bitter and jaded and can't always hide that with his signature witty banter - but he seems determined to try and heal, and is embracing the fact he has a community in our system he can turn to for support. Everyone really likes him; he's been one of the few good things to come out of this mess. Things could be worse, but they could be a lot better. I'm front-fatigued, I badly need another extended break, and we've been suffering from migraines - but I'm stuck here with yet another new alter with no ID, who I don't even know will be here in the morning. Jeremy and Getter did something surprisingly noble to try and save us - but there's a lot of things both in real life and in the system that we just can't stop from happening. I really hope that their voluntary dormancy doesn't turn out to be for nothing. We have to keep going - there's too many reasons for us not to give up. But fuck me if it isn't hard right now.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.

[lothcatthree]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

thank you for tagging me @forloveofcodywan (i've been wanting to do this one for a while)

under the cut so i don't plague your dash

1.) How many works do you have on ao3?

16 (i used to have >30 but i orphaned half of them bc i wrote them when i was 14 and nobody needs to see that)

2.) What’s your ao3 word count?

162,724

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

star wars all day babey. i dabbled in steve x bucky from 2017-2018 ish, but star wars has had my brain in a vice grip since 2015 (i was another victim to the sequels causing a sw renaissance).

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

the right feeling - from my finnpoe days :') this is part 1 of a soulmate au series. this one has 4.7k words.

i think i was blind before i met you - steve x bucky (damn we're going way back, this is 7 years old) modern au with barista steve and college student disaster bucky. 15k words.

please stay for awhile now - finnpoe, again for the win. this is part 2 of the soulmate au series. 5.6k words.

we should just kiss like real people do - finnpoe. this is the fourth and final part of the soulmate au series. hurt/comfort, recovery, all the good stuff. 8.2k words. (i suppose we all needed the soulmate finnpoe fluff in 2016, judging by these stats).

but through it all, i will need you anyways - current codywan WIP!! fix-it fic with just an insane amount of disgustingly tooth-rotting fluff. no clone death, just good feelings. this has been ENTIRELY self-indulgent and i started it when i got initial codywan brain rot. 64k words and counting!

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh my god yes, i love comments and it puts the biggest smile on my face knowing that people took time out of their day to write something nice for my little ramblings :')

6.) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

jesus, literally none of them. i have to do happy endings, i'm too fragile. closest would be i hate you, fuck you, please never stop looking at me which is wolfwren PWP, except they still kinda hate each other at the end. (this barely counts because i am writing a follow-up that explores more of their feelings for each other and has a happy ending)

7.) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

ALL OF THEM. idk what to tell you. probably the cheesiest ending is the dinluke modern soulmate au i just wrote - how did i ever live without you?

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank god. i keep things pretty vanilla and i tag very thoroughly to do my best to avoid any hurt feelings. (also i've just simply been lucky to never experience that)

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

oh fuck yeah. 2/3 of my fics are explicit. mostly m/m, one f/f and two m/m/m. we have fun over here.

10.) Do you write cross overs? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

no, this would break my brain. next question.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, unless it has been and they're very good about hiding it (doubt it, tho. i'd be a weird choice to steal from)

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but i would love it!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no, but i have been thinking more and more that i would love to do this!!

14.) What’s your all time favourite ship?

this is so hard. . i think codywan has been the one ship that has just slapped my across the face and gave me stockholm syndrome. I think about them.... All the Time. second closest would be finnpoe, judging on how many stories i wrote about them. and they just fit so well together and i adore their characters and they had so much chemistry and. (i'll stop now)

15.) What’s a WIP you’d like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

my brain will simply not allow me to leave a WIP uncompleted. by god, it's going to happen even if i am chaining myself to my laptop and typing through tears.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

i have received many compliments about my dialogue and smut scenes flowing very naturally :) i try to make them play like a movie and have it immersive enough that a character doesn't do/say something unnatural to make the reader stop and say wait what?

16.) What are your writing weaknesses?

oh god, PLOT and ANGST. can't do it for the life of me. i work best in oneshots so i can brain vomit and move on. i have a hard time planning out fics and i deeply envy writers that can create beautiful long fics in a timely fashion. i deeply lack the patience for something like that.

as for angst, yes i can technically do it, but it pains every cell in my body. just let the sad old gay men be happy.

17.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

closest i have ever gotten is mando'a, but it's been very fun to learn!

18.) First fandom you wrote for?

oh boy. one direction (the aforementioned orphaned works).

19.) Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

i am cursed with "i immediately hate everything i write as soon as i release it" syndrome. recently, though, i was particularly proud of safe. warm. mine. because it was very outside of my comfort zone due to the involvement of three people and it was the first a/b/o i have written!

no pressure tags for @veelawings @apricusapollo @shy-wookiee. these are all the mutuals that write (that i know of) and haven't already been tagged (i think)! but please, anyone who i missed or who sees this and wants to chime in and tag me, please do!!!

[tarmac-rat]

WIP W/E but we're doing Sunday today

I've got a tag backlog of like 5 of these lmao so @ghostoffuturespast thank you for tagging me and waiting like 3 months before I had time lol 💜

Extra long one because hell I haven't shared anything in like 3 months and I wanted to assure everyone that I am in fact not dead.

From Rain in the Desert chapter 18. Mikoshi Chapter. Top 10 Conversations Held Right Before Disaster:

Whether she expected that to be met with laughter or annoyance, it hardly matters, because all Johnny gives her is one sagely nod. “Like I said, got all the time in the world now. Should think about what I told you last night, if you want a place to start, at least.” “Find my mom?” “Leave the city. Not just because you should and you’re too stubborn to see it yet— lotta heat’s gonna fall on you once this is all over. They’ll swarm your apartment, knock on some of your friends’ doors and give ‘em a shakedown, all the works. Sometimes, the best way to keep the people who care about you safe is to smash your holo with a hammer and fuck off into the desert for a couple years.” “Even without you in my head, I’m still finding ways to run through all your greatest hits.” “Say it like that’s a bad thing.” “No comment. And you, though? You come up with a plan yet?”

“Workin’ on it. Think it over for a bit, weigh some pros and cons, see if I like what I come up with. I'll burn that bridge when I get there.” “Just be careful.” “Always am, kid, but thanks for the pep talk.” “Will I ever see you again?” The words slip from her without thought. It’s like the one she asked on that overlook behind Westbrook, or in that booth inside the Afterlife, or shin-deep in the waves of the Pacific. A question born of pure, pathetic desperation— of a need for him to verify something in herself that she can’t even begin to explain. Because when the wall between them came crumbling down, there was no going back, all of her awful thoughts became his and all of his terrible dreams became hers. But now it’s been built back up and she’s left pounding on the bricks, screaming out for an answer that will never ever come. It doesn’t have to be loud, or resolute, or even honest. If she can just hear his voice join her own through all the miles between them, then could be she can find it in herself to live with that. Just something, a single word. Anything to prove that she isn’t on her own in this. But rather than give her that, the corners of Johnny’s mouth slowly draw up into a toothy smile. “Is that fondness I hear in your voice, princess?” he teases. It’s right around there V learns that code can, in no uncertain terms, flush, “Shut up.” “Sayin’ you’re actually gonna miss havin’ my shitty little thoughts ringin’ ‘round up in your head?”  “Shut up. Johnny.” The look he throws her at that almost makes V wish that Alt would come back and Soulkill her all over again, “Always thought you wore sentimentality like a pair of shackles and a straitjacket, but this is somethin’ else. You mean I might actually see you shed a few tears when Alt starts cartin’ me off?” “Jesus, forget I said anything. Ask a genuine question and I end up getting grilled for it like I’m on some shitty daytime talk show,” V grits out, hand against her brow in an effort to shield her burning face, “Wanna toss jokes about me being ‘sentimental’, y’know, but here you are not even taking a lick of this seriously when I’m trying to be on the level. You want to know what you’ll actually see when you go, Johnny? How about me flipping you one last bird for the road, since apparently your gonk ass can’t bear to not make light about this shit for five fucking minutes.” “...I’ll miss your shitty little thoughts too, if it means anythin’.” V glances up. Johnny hadn’t been looking at her anymore but as if sensing it return, his gaze does rise to tangle up in hers again. His body betrays nothing, almost; she doesn’t miss the way his fingers have curled in tight around his latest cigarette, metal knuckles rasping some discordant song against the tabletop. And maybe that’s the thing she’d forgotten about being human. That words are incoherent things, and so rarely do they mean what we want them to. Well, when you’re stuck there pounding on a wall, what better way to say that you’re not alone in this than to pound back? “This won’t be the end, though, right?” the chain around V’s neck tightens; she’s got the pendant and dog tags locked in a visegrip again, “I mean, if I manage to find my way back to the Blackwall again, maybe Alt can…I don’t know, carry a message over? Let me through from time to time?” Johnny’s smile is small, and restrained, and probably speaks to something they both know can never really be, but for a moment, maybe pretending that it could can somehow be enough; “We’ll work somethin’ out, princess.” 

If or when I have a new WIP to share, I'll probably do a WIP share tag then! But thank you again to everyone who's tagged me over the past couple of months!

[charyou-tree]

I know how everyone here feels about Apollo's Dodgeball of Prophecy, now that I've gotten enough distance from the pandemic, I need y'all to know about the band that predicted it.

This is a recent studio album by the Dutch symphonic-metal band Delain.

The album is called Apocalypse and Chill, and it released February 7, 2020. This of course means it was composed/written/produced/recorded months or years before 2020.

Its about how society handles (doesn't handle) some unspecified catastrophe, and then how the survivors pick up the pieces.

Here's a breakdown of the tracklist:

One Second: The before times, when all we cared about was falling in love and having fun

We Had Everything: We had no idea how good we had it

Chemical Redemption: This won't be so bad, right? We can (probably?) fix this.

Burning Bridges: Cracks in society start to show, widened by the stress of the impending disaster, friends and family turn on each other

Vengeance: "GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON TO SPARE YOU. GIVE ME ONE HINT THAT YOU'RE STILL THE PERSON I ONCE KNEW OR YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD."

To Live is to Die: pretty self explanatory, death comes for us all, might as well accept it

Let's Dance: Not "lets party in the club", but "let's fucking dance", whispered to yourself under your breath, just before charging into an unwinnable battle. Its an admission of "the only way out is through". Ok apocalypse, Let's Dance.

Creatures: We're all changed, hiding, sneaking, trying to survive in this more dangerous world.

Ghost House Heart: Mourning for those we lost

Masters of Destiny: Choosing to exist on purpose makes you in control of your own destiny, no matter what life throws at you.

Legions of the Lost: Hey, how come only a handful of powerful/rich people are "recovered" from this? What about the rest of us? How can we fix this if you refuse to take care of the people of this world? <---- IRL, You Are Here in the recovery process

The Greatest Escape: The After Times, turns out things won't be bad forever

Combustion: Instrumental, kickass guitar solo, always relevant.