#which it turns out was a better system!!!

[xkittzkornerx]

(long? reply)

i always try to keep in mind that what people label themselves as isn’t always gonna match the stereotypes or biases i have in my head. even if i disagree a lot with what they have to say, i’ve had instances where someone who identifies as a Republican sides with my perspective over fellow Republicans.

humans are far too complex to put in boxes (binaries), but we also are naturally drawn to things that we resonate with. we are social creatures looking for like-minded people who understand. for a lot of us, if we agree with the majority of what a movement or community does/advocates for, and what we disagree with them on isn’t too harmful (the determination of which is subjective), we will then use that label, too, and find our role within that community.

i know for sure i’m not a centrist/libertarian bc my father is a libertarian, and we used to argue ourselves into shouting matches when i was younger. at some point, i gave up trying to change him. we get along a lot better now that we accept the other believes what they believe (luckily we have at least a couple middle ground topics now). i think it fueled my need to better understand demographics different from my own, to try to understand where people were coming from when i opposed their beliefs, how they got there. i went down many rabbit holes all over the political spectrum, eventually deciding that where i thought i landed might have been wrong (i was a liberal). i found myself drawn to leftist spaces. challenged myself. deconstructed a lot of ideologies i was raised with, kept only a few. i didn’t agree blindly to everything and took time to really think about things. i continue to challenge myself/advance my perspective. i genuinely believe many leftists do the same, that people in general do this. we’re just faded out by loud idiots and doom-scrolling.

some people avoid labels altogether, think that it’s too restrictive to voluntarily sign yourself up for and still be considered intelligent. others cling on too tight to labels and enforce them tyrannically. personally, i’m one for a healthy balance. like when you mentioned collectivism—the antonym for that would be individualism. i think both can be okay, but then come in the extremists. all of a sudden a group has to be a hivemind, and the individual must never depend on others, is expected to be selfish, must always strive to be as ‘quirky’ and unique as possible, and above all, must never be ‘basic.’ whatever that means.

when it comes to blame, i avoid turning on my fellow countryfolk. the 1% are the ones with the power (plutocracy). they buy our politicians, create and fuel systematic injustices, and facilitate violations of human rights. they carefully construct the media to meet their propagandist standards. civilians are born into this system. schools don’t teach kids critical thinking. we are convinced as children that *insert demographic(s)* are a threat. sometimes you can be both a victim and an upholder of abuse. 🤷🏼‍♀️

the government (bought by the 1%) curates division so that we are never organized. they want us distracted, pointing fingers at one another, having poor working class people blaming other poor working class people for their misfortunes, bc if we were organized, we could easily defeat them, and that would mean defeating the bourgeoisie. that’s why Luigi unifies so many people across the political spectrum. more are realizing it isn’t right vs left, but up vs down. we’re stronger together, even if we disagree on a lot of things. i mean, i’m queer, and i’m willing to work with homophobes if it means fixing the healthcare system and wealth inequality. it is for the greater good of Americans as a whole, not just ones like me.

we don’t have to be best buds to stand in solidarity, and that is a sentence i would have never been able to comprehend if i was still my liberal 14-year-old self.

i do not want to live in a world where a pathetic, evil loser like OJ Simpson can murder two innocent human beings (one of which was his ex-wife, Nicole Brown, whom he abused their entire marriage), and have all evidence pointing toward him + an audio recording of him confessing to the double-homicide, yet he still escapes life in prison and leads a long, free life… but a modern day Robinhood like Luigi Mangione that (allegedly) popped a monster who made billions off denying people healthcare (killing thousands), can’t also be let free.

seeing the people in power scramble to villainize Luigi and paint him as a danger to society, try to convince us that we should be scared just bc they are? babe, it isn’t working. use your brains. that billionaire shitass was shot IN DEFENSE of us bc he was diabolical. how detached do you have to be to not understand how every day people are not going to be afraid of someone who (allegedly) murdered a billionaire making his wealth off our demises?

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[elryuse]

My Toxic Ex

Yandere Seola X Male Reader

Tags : Cheating Seola, Toxic Seola, Regrets, Yandere, Obsessive, Forceful Sex, Hatred, Manipulation, Pregnancy?

Words : 3,4509 Words

This Is a Commission Work for My friend @Pizza_anon on Ko-fi. I hope you like it Buddy.

"Seola..what the fuck". Y/n yelled, as He saw a terrible sight. His girlfriend of 2 years, have been sleeping with guys all around campus, as she giggles and moaned. Y/n was heartbroken, Seeing how seola clearly enjoyed it.

Seola his once pure and caring Girlfriend, was changed. She was no longer the cheerful, happy, and loving girlfriend once more. She became toxic, cruel, manipulative. Sometimes Y/n wondered what went wrong, What did he do wrong. As her habits grew more and more destructive, Y/n finally has enough.

After a ton of Cheating that she has done, Y/n was finally tired. He's tired hearing all of this news from his friends that Seola is with another guy, Seola slept with some guy, etc. He's done. And so, He simply left. He moved into a new College, far from Seola. He slowly composed himself, Getting his mentality into a better state. As he finally made new friends, and left the ties from his previous life.

Y/n met a beautiful girl. Eunji, was her name. She was cute, smart, and most importantly, Caring. It has been years, since Y/n felt loved, wanted. And it clearly shows, as after a few months of dating her, Y/n was committed to become his boyfriend. Eunji smiled, as she hugged him under the Apple tree. However, as Y/n may thinks this story would end on a happy ending. It was from happy, nor sad. It would be devastating.

Seola, Who all this time was busy having fun with guys all over the campus found herself stuck in a limbo. A sudden news, Her porn videos and naked pics were leaked all over the internet, and most importantly on her university. This made her popularity crumble into dust. As people began mocking her, slut shaming her, and what's even worse, the friends that she thought was there for her, turned out to be the monster that leaked all of her vids and pics.

They all laugh, as they sneered at her, mocking her. Seola was broken. The guys who she slept with, didn't bother to care for her. Instead they feel more proud than ever, as they still kept those videos and pictures all inside their phones. Seola trembles, as day by day, Her friends would leave her, and in the end, the were none left.

Seola suddenly remembered about Y/n. The man who truly cared for her. The man who actually cared for her. She suddenly cried, as She started to remember all of those good times she had with him. She remembered the time where the two got into a small fight, and even though it was unnecessary his fault, Y/n still decided to be the one who apologize first, which made Seola really happy and proud.

She imagined, if she still go back to him. Will he accept her apology. Will he still get back with her, after all of this time, and after all of this suffering that she gave him. Seola was stucked, didn't know what to do, what to act. But she thinks again and again, and not wanting to regrets her decision, she finally started to do some research on Y/n.

And to her surprise and shock, Y/n looked different. He seems happy. His smile, that once was shown to her, now shines brightly on the digital screen, He shares the world about his new girlfriend, Eunji. The two seems perfect, they lack any negativity, far beyond what Y/n and Seola used to have. At that moment, Seola cried. She had lost. She had truly made the biggest mistake in her life.

As she caresses the phone screen once more, a devious plan suddenly showed up. She could still win him over. She could still be with him. And even though this plan would hurt her and him, She didn't care. She only wanted Y/n to be with her again. And so, Any plans good or bad, suddenly become the pinnacle of the system. Seola laughed, as She opened a small wrinkled picture from her jacket. A photo of Y/n and Her. She knew, This wasn't going to be easy. But she knows, that whatever the outcome is, She'll have him back.

As Y/n and Eunji get up from their tiring slumber, He could see that today was a good day. The Sun was shining brightly, the clouds doesn't look cloudy. The evening air was crisp, the kind that made you want to pull your jacket tighter around yourself. Y/n walked home from Eunji’s apartment, his mind still buzzing with the warmth of her laugh and the softness of her touch. He couldn’t believe how different life felt now—how free he was. No more walking on eggshells, no more wondering if Seola would blow up over something trivial. For the first time in years, he felt like he could breathe.

But as he turned the corner onto his quiet street, a familiar silhouette caught his eye. His heart skipped a beat. No. It can’t be.

Seola stood under the flickering streetlamp, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked... smaller somehow, less vibrant than the girl he remembered. Her once perfectly styled hair was slightly disheveled, and her makeup, though still striking, couldn’t hide the shadows under her eyes.

“Y/n,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him pause. “We need to talk.”

He clenched his jaw, stopping a few feet away from her. “Seola, I don’t think there’s anything left to say. We’re done.”

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. But then, her expression hardened, and she took a step closer. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just walk away from me and start over like nothing happened?”

“I didn’t walk away, Seola. You did. Every single time you chose someone else over me, you pushed me further away. And now... I’m done.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You really believe that? That it was all my fault? Maybe if you had cared enough, if you had fought for me, things would’ve been different. But you didn’t. You just gave up.”

Y/n stared at her, incredulous. “Fought for you? Seola, you were sleeping with half the campus. What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stop?”

Her eyes burned with intensity, and she closed the distance between them in two quick strides. “You were supposed to fight for me!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “Because I needed you! I needed you to show me that I was worth something!”

The raw pain in her voice stopped him cold. For the first time, he saw past the bravado, the cruelty, the arrogance. All he saw was a girl who was broken, who had been hurting long before their relationship fell apart.

“Seola...” he started, his voice softening despite himself.

But she cut him off, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shirt. “Don’t pretend to care now. Not when you’ve already moved on. Not when you’re with her.”

He frowned, stepping back. “Eunji has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t she?” Seola’s voice was low, dangerous. “You think I don’t know about her? How perfect she is? How kind and caring and loving? Tell me, Y/n, does she make you feel like I did? Does she make your heart race? Does she make you want her so badly it hurts?”

“Seola, stop—”

“No,” she hissed, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him close. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. But you do owe me this. One last chance. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”

Her breath was hot against his skin, and despite everything, he felt his body respond. She was so close, too close, and the scent of her perfume—something sweet and floral—filled his senses. Memories flooded his mind: late nights tangled together, whispered promises, stolen kisses. But then, the darker memories followed: her cruel words, her betrayal, the way she always made him feel so small.

“I can’t,” he said firmly, trying to push her away. But she held on tighter, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Yes, you can,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “You miss me. I know you do. You miss the way I touched you, the way I made you feel. And deep down, you want me just as much as I want you.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he hated how right she was. Even now, after everything, a part of him still longed for her. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not after everything she’d put him through.

“Seola, this isn’t going to work,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m with Eunji now. I’m happy. Please, just let me go.”

For a moment, she was silent, her grip loosening slightly. Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was desperate, hungry, full of years of pent-up longing and regret. Y/n froze, torn between pushing her away and giving in. Her tongue slid against his, coaxing his mouth open, and he felt himself responding despite his better judgment.

When she finally pulled away, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “One night,” she whispered again. “That’s all I need. Let me remind you why we belonged together. And then... if you still want to leave, I’ll let you go. I promise.”

His chest heaved as he struggled to think clearly. This was wrong. So wrong. But the ache in his body told him otherwise. The way her hands roamed over his chest, the way her hips pressed against his... it was too much. And yet, not enough.

“Seola...” he breathed, barely able to form the words.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, and she leaned in close again. “Shh,” she whispered, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Just let me take care of you. Like I used to.”

Before he could protest, she dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands already working to unbuckle his belt. His mind screamed at him to stop her, to pull away, but his body betrayed him. He was hard, achingly so, and the sight of her looking up at him with those dark, possessive eyes only made it worse.

“Wait—” he started, but she silenced him with a sharp tug on his pants. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him exposed to the cool night air—and to her.

Seola didn’t waste any time. She wrapped her lips around him, taking him deep into her mouth with a practiced ease that made his knees buckle. Her tongue swirled around the tip, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through him. He gripped her shoulders, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer.

“God, Seola...” he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “Missed this, didn’t you?” she purred, before sinking down again, deeper this time. Her hands gripped his thighs, holding him in place as she worked him with relentless precision.

He was losing control, fast. The rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop, to end this before it went too far. But the rest of him was drowning in sensation, in the heat of her mouth and the way she moaned around him, as if she couldn’t get enough.

“Stop,” he managed to choke out, though his body betrayed him by thrusting forward. “Seola, we can’t...”

She pulled away again, panting slightly. “We can,” she insisted, standing up and pressing her body against his. “And we will. Because you’re mine, Y/n. You always have been.”

Her lips crashed against his again, silencing any protests. She guided his hands to her waist, encouraging him to touch her, to feel her. And despite everything, he couldn’t resist. His fingers found the hem of her skirt, sliding underneath to cup her ass. She moaned into his mouth, grinding against him.

“Take me upstairs,” she whispered, biting his lower lip. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

He hesitated, torn between the guilt of betraying Eunji and the undeniable pull of Seola’s body against his. But in the end, it wasn’t a choice. Not really. With a groan, he grabbed her hand and led her toward the building, his mind racing with what was about to happen.

As they stumbled into his apartment, Seola pushed him against the door, kissing him furiously. Her hands pulled at his shirt, while his fumbled with the zipper of her dress. Clothes fell to the floor in a haphazard pile, and soon they were both naked, pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desperate need.

She broke the kiss, stepping back slightly to admire him. “You’re still so beautiful,” she murmured, running a hand down his chest. “And you’re all mine.”

Then she turned around, bending over the couch and looking back at him over her shoulder. “Come on, Y/n,” she said, her voice dripping with temptation. “What are you waiting for?”

He hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his hands gripping her hips. She gasped as he entered her, her nails digging into the cushions beneath her.

“That’s it,” she moaned, arching her back to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Fuck me, Y/n. Make me yours again.”

The sound of her voice, the feel of her tight around him... it was too much. He lost himself in the rhythm, in the way she whimpered and begged for more. But even as he moved inside her, a nagging thought crept into his mind. This is wrong. This is...

“Harder,” she demanded, cutting off his thoughts. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

And so, he gave in, letting the heat of the moment consume him. But as he glanced down at her, at the way her body writhed beneath his, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a mistake. A delicious, intoxicating, irresistible mistake.

“Seola...” he murmured, his voice rough.

She looked back at him, her eyes glazed with lust. “What is it? Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until...

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of gold across the rumpled sheets. Y/n stirred, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind foggy from the night before. He blinked slowly, trying to piece together what had happened. Seola. Her name echoed in his head like a warning bell. He turned his head, expecting to see her gone, as she often was after their reckless encounters back in university. But this time, she was still there, curled up beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow like ink spilled on paper.

She looked so peaceful—soft, even. It made his chest ache. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He had Eunji now. Sweet, kind Eunji, who deserved better than this. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to steady his breathing. His heart pounded, not from desire but from guilt. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating.

“Morning,” Seola’s voice broke the silence, smooth and melodic, yet laced with something he couldn’t quite place. She stretched languidly, her bare skin catching the sunlight, and propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. Her lips curved into a sly smile. “You look awful. Rough night?”

Y/n didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Words felt trapped in his throat, tangled with regret and confusion. He wanted to get up, to leave, to pretend this never happened. But his body refused to move.

Seola sighed dramatically, sitting up fully, letting the sheet pool around her waist. She leaned closer, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. “You know,” she began, her tone casual, almost too casual, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He tensed immediately, his instincts screaming that whatever she was about to say would only make things worse. “Don’t,” he said quickly, his voice hoarse. “Just… don’t.”

Her smile widened, and there was a glint in her eyes that made his stomach twist. “Oh, come on, Y/n. You’re going to want to hear this.” She paused, letting the tension build, savoring it. Then, softly, almost sweetly, she dropped the bomb. “I’m pregnant.”

The room seemed to tilt. Y/n stared at her, his mind struggling to process the words. Pregnant. The word hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. He shook his head, disbelief coursing through him. “No. No, you’re lying.”

Seola laughed lightly, as if they were discussing the weather. “Why would I lie about something like this? It’s true. I found out last week.” She reached for his hand, placing it gently on her stomach. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, and for a moment, he felt frozen. “There’s a little piece of us growing right here. Isn’t that amazing?”

He jerked his hand away as if burned, scrambling to his feet. His chest heaved as he backed away from the bed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after everything. “You… you can’t be serious.”

Her expression shifted, her playful smirk fading into something sharper, more intense. “Dead serious,” she said, her voice low and steady. “And it’s yours. I haven’t been with anyone else since we…” She trailed off, letting the implication sink in. “You’re the father, Y/n.”

His knees threatened to buckle. He sank into a chair, his hands gripping the edge of the seat so tightly his knuckles turned white. Father. The word reverberated in his skull, each repetition louder than the last. He felt sick. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had finally moved on, found someone who truly cared about him. And now… now this.

Seola watched him closely, her gaze calculating. She slid out of bed, standing naked before him without an ounce of shame. She knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs, her touch both grounding and suffocating. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” she asked softly, her voice dripping with false innocence. “A family? A future together?”

He shook his head, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “No. Seola, no. That’s not… we’re not…”

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But we could be,” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Think about it, Y/n. You could have me all to yourself. No more fighting. No more games. Just… us.”

Her words were like a poison, seeping into his veins, clouding his thoughts. He wanted to push her away, to scream that this wasn’t what he wanted. But the way she looked at him—like he was the center of her world—made something inside him waver. For years, he had loved her. Or at least, he thought he had. And despite everything she had done, some small, stupid part of him still craved the warmth she once offered.

As if sensing his hesitation, Seola pressed further. She kissed him, soft and slow, her lips moving against his with practiced ease. He tried to resist, but his body betrayed him, responding instinctively. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark with satisfaction. “See?” she murmured, trailing her fingers along his jaw. “You still want me. You always have.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. How could he deny it when his body screamed otherwise? When every fiber of his being seemed drawn to her, despite the chaos she brought?

Seola stood then, pulling him to his feet. Her hands slid up his chest, her touch deliberate, possessive. “Let me remind you,” she whispered, her voice a dangerous purr. “Let me show you why you belong to me.”

Before he could protest, she kissed him again, harder this time, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. His hands hesitated at his sides before giving in, gripping her hips as if clinging to life itself. She smiled against his mouth, triumphant. “That’s it,” she coaxed, guiding him back toward the bed. “Let go, Y/n. Just let go.”

He was falling, spiraling deeper into her web. And as she lowered him onto the mattress, her hands roaming greedily over his body, he knew he was lost. The guilt, the doubt, the fear—it all melted away under her touch.

For now, at least, she had won.

[agent--shadow]

Gideon gets up off the floor, finally standing up, towering over Kai as blood drips from his mouth. Luckily Kai is able to dodge his angry uncoordinated swings, probably due to Wraith's interference, which is good because he's already not in the greatest shape.

A figure moves through the crowd, one Nix might've recognized as his interrogator from the underwater base. Gideon looks over towards him and Kai turns his head to see what was going on, but that unfortunately meant he was distracted, and Gideon slammed his big angry fist into Kai's stomach, sending him tumbling across to the floor, to the feet of the interrogator.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our second most wanted freak."

Kai struggles to get up his bruises from before flaring up, sending waves of pain down his body. The figure lifts his head with the tip of a cane, and pulls out a bottle of putrid green liquid. "We've made it stronger this time. You won't be escaping on our watch ever again."

Kai desperately tries to get out of their grasp, but it's too late, the figure sprays his face with the bottle, and he starts to cough. He doubles over as the gas infiltrates his system, desperately trying to hack it out, but it's too late. His eyes turn inky black, and after a minute, Kai stops struggling, his movements are janky and inhuman, as if he's being controlled once again.

( @silverdragon889 @eod-agent-13-12)

(Take your time! Focus on getting better! /Gen)

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody | Attack on Zoraxis RP

Here's the Party RP! @blueorchid-95 @agent--shadow @agentwraith @phoenix-and-found-family @eod-agent-13-12

____________________________________

The lights, glitz, and glamour were just as Eustace planned. As guests milled about the lavish ballroom, he made plans for the Jay Weapons Company's biggest reveal yet. All he had to do was wait...

And pray Gideon didn't do anything stupid, of course.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Michael Podhorzer at Weekend Reading:

But, as we will see, America didn’t swing rightward, but couchward:

The popular vote result was almost entirely a collapse in support for Harris and Democrats, not an increase in support for Trump and MAGA. Trump was no more popular this year than four years ago, while Harris significantly underperformed Biden 2020.

Most of Harris’s losses were due to anti-MAGA surge voters staying home.2 She lost the most ground in deep-Blue urban areas, where the dangers of a second Trump administration seemed most remote. About 19 million Americans who cast ballots for Biden in 2020 did not vote in 2024.

Anti-MAGA surge voters stayed home because they were less alarmed by a second Trump Administration than they were four years ago. A key to Biden’s victory was high turnout from less-engaged voters who believed they had something to lose under Trump. In 2024, however, about 15 million fewer votes were cast “against” Trump than in 2020.

As I’ve been saying for years, America has an anti-MAGA majority, but not necessarily a pro-Democratic one. In 2020 (and 2022, in part), alarm about Trump and MAGA was enough to overcome the cynicism and alienation of mostly younger voters who desperately want bigger systemic change, but who oppose the MAGA agenda. This time, their cynicism won out. This was in no small part because the media and other non-partisan civil society leaders were themselves more skeptical of the dangers, and because the inaction of the Biden Administration and Democrats in Congress against MAGA threats belied their rhetoric of existential dangers to the nation.3 This map, from the New York Times, does a much better job making clear where Trump’s “gains” came from – namely, from Harris’s losses.

Indeed, the defining feature of American politics this century is that neither party can “win” elections anymore; they can only be the “not-loser.” Only thanks to the two-party system can the not-loser be crowned the “winner,” since there is no way to fire the incumbent party without hiring the opposition party. Yet political commentators keep confusing shifts in the two parties’ electoral fortunes with changes in voters’ basic values or priorities. A collapse in support for Democrats does not mean that most Americans, especially in Blue America, are suddenly eager to live in an illiberal theocracy. Consider that only once before in American history have three consecutive presidential elections seen the White House change partisan hands, and that nine out of the last ten midterm or presidential elections have been “change elections,” in the sense that either the presidency, the House, or the Senate changed partisan hands,4 which is completely unprecedented.5

[...]

Harris Lost Ground with Anti-MAGA Voters

As regular readers might recall, Biden won in 2020 thanks to a surge of new and less-frequent voters who hadn’t shown up in 2016, and who voted much more Democratic than 2016 voters. These surge voters were the critical “anti-MAGA but not necessarily pro-Democrat” bloc that Harris needed to turn out again in order to win. This year, based on VoteCast data (see chart in the previous section), we can estimate that about 19 million people who voted for Biden four years ago stayed home. (40 percent of those voting in 2024 had voted for Biden in 2020, and 40 percent had voted for Trump. From there, it’s simple arithmetic.16) Moreover, with the same caveats until the voter files are updated, both VoteCast and Navigator found that in the battleground states, a greater share of 2020 Trump voters than Biden voters cast ballots in 2024, albeit by a smaller margin than in the rest of the country. VoteCast also asked whether voters cast ballots “for” the candidate they chose or “against” the other candidate.17 The results show that about 15 million fewer votes were cast “against” Trump in 2024 than in 2020. That suggests a lot of missing “anti-MAGA but not pro-Democrat” voters.

Michael Podhorzer at Weekend Reading delivers a prognosis as to why Kamala Harris lost to Donald Trump: Enough of the anti-MAGA vote chose the couch instead voting at all.

[deramin2]

I think anyone complaining about Bell's Hells morality as we near the end of Critical Role Campaign 3 and whether they truly get to claim they're representatives of the Exandrian people should go watch How To Blow Up A Pipeline (2022) about direct action environmental rights activists. And the documentary Hit & Stay (2013) about the anti-Vietnam War Catholic Far Left activists while you're at it. Or The Trial of the Catonsville Nine (1972) which is based on a play written by one of the priests profiled in Hit & Stay about their trial (grandstanding in the trial was one of the intents of being arrested).

It turns out that when you're not in a binary morality unquestioned heroism YA novel that what is justified in fighting systems of oppression and what the right thing to do is actually becomes hard to determine and largely driven by internal feelings and rage at injustice.

Who determines who gets to have a big say? Who determines what actions are justified when no one will listen to the harm being done? Who determines what is overall the more harmful action? Especially when you can't know the future except that there is no option where tremendous harm is not done. Who determines which step along any road is "right" or even "wise?" Especially when they are taken one by one by specific people who are swept up by the events of their own lives and not predetermined by an all-seeing all-knowing Author writing backwards from the ending?

Playing a game isn't the same as acting in the real world at great personal cost, but real life is a kind of improv. Long form improv doesn't start with how the ending should get tied up. It's about how every single split second decision adds up to a cumulative finale. Things not turning out how you'd have played them out if you already knew everything and were living someone else's life is what reality is like.

The normal state of affairs is people making decisions you don't agree with. "They shouldn't have done that" is boring and useless analysis that shuts down further thought and dismisses what anyone else has to say. "Why did they do that" is what media literacy is about. Campaign 3 was never heroic fantasy (arguably C1 & C2 weren't either). It's a character study in people doing what they feel they must in the moment it's happening without any assurances at all that it's the right thing. It's about not having confidence and surety but having to act anyway. That's the entire point.

How To Blow Up A Pipeline (2022) is a great expression of that same dynamic. They have enough confidence to keep telling each other this is the most necessary action they can take because they don't know what the future looks like, but one where they did nothing isn't one they can stand to live through. Is blowing up this pipeline in the way they are planning to the best possible course of action morally and strategically? Literally nobody knows that. They can't possibly know that. It only matters that these people got to that point, and now it's all happening flaws and all. For love, for revenge, for discord in the face of a society that acts like this is normal. A bunch of righteous fuckups just trying to survive in a harsh world made harsher by the status quo.

If nearly 437 hours of game play was too much to sit through to get that point across, maybe 104 minutes will work better.

[duchessonfire]

Savior Carl!AU re-read Part 1 Chapter 2

Follow-up of my re-read of Part 1 Chapter 1. If you're not interested and don't want to have your dashboard spammed, you can block the tags Duchess reads and Savior Carl AU reread.

Commentary for Part 1, Ch 2 below the cut (spoilers for part 1 ahead):

Chapter 2 here we go. Let's count how many times Negan calls Carl 'mine' in this chapter, shall we?

“I gotta say, kid, I am impressed. You guys were like a two-man army down there.” His eyes settle on Carl’s arm, resting limp at his side. “Come on. We got a long road back before you can get looked at by the doc.” “I’m fine,” Carl hisses, irked at being treated like he’s helpless. Didn’t he just demonstrate that he knows how to handle himself, while all these assholes stood with their guns and watched? “It’s just dislocated. Shane can pop it back; he’s done it before.” Negan smiles, and there is nothing nice about it. “I’m sure he has, kid. And I’m sure I’d love to see you take it like a champ, all dry eyes and gritted teeth. But you belong to me, now. And I take care of what’s mine. So there will be no half-assed, amateur bone-setting job done in the middle of fucking nowhere. We’ll ride back and you’ll go to the doc. Period.”

And that's count 1 already!! I love this moment because this is Negan staking his claim over Carl from the get-go. Not only that, but you can also see through the subtext the subtle way in which Negan is already driving a wedge between Carl and Shane, by demeaning Shane's ability to care for Carl (Negan praised Shane's skills a moment before but now he's calling him an amateur and someone who does a half-assed job) while insisting that he's better at caring for Carl and his wellbeing than Shane is.

Carl looks at Negan defiantly, and the man holds his gaze with a knowing smirk, daring him to contradict him. He turns Lucille’s handle between his gloved fingers in a gesture that Carl can only define as eager. “Fine,” Carl mutters, lowering his eyes, and he knows instantly that it’s going to be like that from now on. No matter how much he tries to fight Negan, it’s always going to end like that: with Carl standing down, humiliated and ashamed. “Attaboy,” Negan murmurs, as he turns around, walking back toward the cars with a lazy sway of his hips. “Let’s get this show on the road! I’ve got a bed and a whole line of wives waiting for me.”

Wow, Negan. You've made things real sexual suddenly. I wonder why that is? Maybe because Carl just willingly submitted to you? Because you're maybe imagining *him* in your bed? In your harem with the rest of your wives? Hmm? Just a thought.

"He’s right, you know? That sister of yours is perfectly safe in Alexandria. I know you and I didn’t get off on the greatest of start, what with me beating the living fuck out of your friends in that clearing, but you can trust me on this. We have a code. We don’t rape and we don’t let anything happen to kids.” Carl scoffs and Negan turns his head toward him, eyes narrowed. “What? You’ve seen anything here to make you believe otherwise? Do you see anyone going hungry? Any kid being abused or terrorized? No. Because we don’t do that kind of shit here. And honestly, I wouldn’t want to live anywhere that let that sort of shit fly. We save people. We saved your dad, and we saved your town, and we saved your sister, and we saved you. As long as I’m standing, nothing’s gonna happen to her. I can promise you that.” He stays silent for a few moments, watching Carl pensively, letting his words sink in.

This chapter is very much about Negan explaining how the Sanctuary works to Carl, laying down the rules and trying to convince him that his system is sound. Negan is trying very hard to get Carl on board, to win him to his cause.

Negan’s lips stretch into a slow grin, like he’s been following every single one of Carl’s thoughts and he can see the exact moment Carl reaches the conclusion he's laid out for him. He bumps the head of his bat on top of Carl’s shoulder, right where Shane’s hand was a few moments ago, before walking away.

This may seem like nothing but this is such an important moment in the story. Negan is already trying to drive a wedge between Carl and Shane because he wants to replace Shane. There are several times throughout the story when Negan puts the bat right where Shane touched Carl, another way for Negan to stake a claim, to assert his territory over Carl, and this is one of them.

“I hear you haven’t been eating.” Carl frowns from where he’s been sitting on the metal steps of the parking lot, watching the morbid spectacle of walkers attached to the fences. He’s dreamed of his mother, and of Carol, of Maggie and Sophia, and spent all day in an exhausted daze, unable to fully shake himself awake. Now, in the quiet of the dusk, the evening breeze clearing away the scent of rotting walkers, he just wants to be by himself. When it becomes clear that Negan isn’t going anywhere, he knows he has to answer. “I eat,” he mumbles, staring resolutely ahead. He doesn’t want to give Negan the privilege of his attention. “Cut the bullshit. I’m not talking about all the canned crap in your room. I mean the good shit from the market. No one’s seen you there.”

This scene is so important in many aspects and yet Carl doesn't realize it. Negan has been watching him. Not just watching him the way a leader watches a former enemy that has now joined his rank, but actually watching out for his wellbeing. Negan has probably spies all over Sanctuary whose role is to watch Carl and report his every move to Negan. Everything from where he goes to what he eats. And when Negan finds Carl's eating habits lacking, he goes through the trouble of talking to Carl about it. There's a definite paternal side to Negan that really shows here, in his concern for Carl's health. Also, I like to think this might also be the educator in Negan, who maybe used to watch the kids under his care at school and make sure that they fit in, that they have friends and that they eat during lunch break.

“You mean the food that other people produce for you but can’t afford to eat themselves?” It was supposed to be a sly barb but Negan just scoffs like Carl’s stupider than he thought: “I’m sorry, kid, maybe you forgot how the world was back when you were still shitting in diapers, but that has literally always been how things work. Welcome to capitalism 101. Some people get a lot, some people get the scraps. Even when your mommy and daddy were taking you out for pancakes on Sunday, someone back in the kitchen was getting fucked in the ass by the minimum wage system. So don’t act like I’m the big bad guy here and just go eat something. You’re a Savior, you help keep this place safe. You’ve earned it. Now go take it.”

Like I said, this chapter is all about Negan explaining how Sanctuary works to Carl, and here he's defending the system he put in place. As unpopular an opinion as it might be, Negan is right. His system is no more unfair than the world before was, which is directly where Negan is taking his inspiration. Like he says to Gabriel in canon, "it's an economy" and a very capitalist one at that. It's not the utopia that Rick or Ezekiel are building, but it is a working system, one that apparently worked well enough for Negan to still have support even when he's in the cell after losing the war.

“I’m fine,” he grits. An all-too familiar weight settles on Carl’s shoulder and he instantly straightens from his slouched position. He starts to turn his head toward Negan but has to stop when his hair gets tangled in the barbed points of the bat. “Good, I have your attention. Now, I’m hungry so why don’t you got to the market and get me some stuff for a sandwich. I’m thinking ham, mustard and tomatoes on rye. Throw in a couple of pickles too. The good home-made shit from number 42’s stall.”

I cannot begin to tell you guys how much I love the sandwich scene. Now that I'm looking at it almost four years later, it is still such a perfect scene to me. It's the first time Negan and Carl really go toe to toe and the first intimate (conflictual as it is) moment between them. So far Negan has kept his distance but now he's going in.

“Holy shit, kid. You’re still alive?!” That’s not his dad’s voice, Carl realizes confusedly. Not Shane’s voice either. He needs to find Shane. Where is he? Did he leave? Did he take baby Lori and leave like he always threatened to? “No,” he tries to say, but it feels like his tongue weighs a hundred pound inside his mouth. Even keeping his eyes open is starting to be unbearable. There is a dull pain throbbing in the right side of his face, and a sense of panic keeps pulling at the corner of his mind, though he can’t remember what that’s about. “Shhh, kid,” says the voice above him. “Don’t talk. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe you’re still fucking alive.” Then, the voice starts booming furiously: “What are you all doing with your dicks hanging out? Get that murderous bitch in a cell and tell the doc we’re coming right the fuck now!” As if through a dark red fog, Carl registers that he is being lifted into the air, and he is further reminded of Christmas Eves spent by the tree, waiting to catch Santa Claus before his dad would carry him to bed. Distantly, he hears the voice panting urgently above him. “Hang on, kid. We’re almost there, just hang on.”

The scene where Carl loses his eye is also a huge favorite of mine for so many reasons. First of all is the fact that this is a pivotal scene in Carl and Negan's relationship. Before that, their dynamic was one of strictly unequal leader/soldier type relationship. But now, suddenly, there's a link between them, an intimacy created by the fact that Carl saved Negan's life. I don't think a lot of people have saved Negan in the past. Lucille, when she shot the walker outside their house, as well as Laura's father when he fed Negan and gave him medicine in the "Here's Negan" episode. Those are probably the last people who saved Negan's life. Everything after that was ruthless survival on Negan's part, saving himself and others through sheer wit and force of will. And yet, here's Carl, an 18yo kid who just did what no one else would have: sacrificed himself to save Negan. This is the moment that changes everything and nothing will be the same after that.

“I gotta say, I knew you were special from the start. Kids your age, in a world like this, they are either scared shitless of their own shadows or they turn into full-blown sadistic ghouls, killing everything that moves just because they can. But not you. You, you know what’s at stakes. You’ve killed and you don’t shy away from it. You don’t enjoy it either, but you get the job done because you know that sometimes, in order to save people, you gotta kill people. And I respect the shit out of that.” He scratches his beard while looking at Carl pensively. “Your step-dad is lucky to have you, kid. This whole place is lucky to have you. ‘Cause you may think that I’m bad, but let me tell you: if I wasn’t here to run the show, you’d know what bad really is. This place is a fucking zoo and I’m the one keeping all the animals fed and locked up. The minute I stop being in charge, everything here falls apart and it goes back to being a goddamn free-for-all. And I mean it literally. People will be slaughtering each other in the blink of an eye without daddy here to keep the peace. So you didn’t just save my life, kid. You saved the life of every single person here as well. Remember that.”

This is another instance of Negan explaining the Sanctuary to Carl, though this time he explains his own role in it, how, by being at the top of the pyramid, he prevents chaos and violence from spreading below. This is also the first time that Negan talks to Carl as an equal instead of an underling, telling him that he can see Carl's potential, how he doesn't shy away from violence but also isn't enjoying it. This is the first time that Negan tells Carl he respects him and that he sees him as someone who could be more than a footsoldier but, possibly, one day, more of an equal, someone who shares Negan's vision and might rule by his side.

“Still, I now have four job openings. Five, if I count the time you’re gonna spend recovering. I’ll offer her to fill one out. Get her the same deal I gave you and Shane. She becomes one of us, all is forgiven.” “She’ll never go for it,” Carl warns. He knows how headstrong Rosita is, how devastated she was after what happened to Abraham. How much she loathes Negan and the Saviors. Negan shrugs as he walks toward the door. “Then she’ll die. Like I said, I don’t let people fuck with what’s mine.”

Second count of Negan calling Carl "mine" in just one chapter, and the story hasn't even turned shippy yet. Negan, your crush is so very obvious...

Conclusion; tldr: This chapter is all about Carl and Negan. It's about Negan watching Carl and Carl watching Negan in turn, the both of them assessing the other, testing the boundary of this new leader/soldier relationship. But more than that, it's also Negan reaching a hand out to Carl, showing him all he can offer (power, comfort, luxury) if Carl just submits to him. Negan is explaining to Carl how the Sanctuary works, defending the system he put in place to him so Carl will see Negan's vision and, hopefully, share in it. But when Rosita tries to kill Negan and Carl saves his life, it's also the beginning of a more personal relationship. Negan watches what Carl eats, watches him sleep in the infirmary, and is genuinely concerned about Carl's wellbeing. Negan has the biggest crush on the planet and he isn't even aware of it yet.

You can find my commentary for Part 1, Ch 3 here.

[marxalittle]

You don't have to have loved the world you lived in and grew up with and were raised with and understood in order to be shattered by its loss. Nothing really made sense in the USSR from an outside perspective, but the specific kind of senselessness that ordered it could be understood from inside, and was: it was crazy, but it could be navigated and worked with and around, not unlike our present deranged circumstances. But the world literally ended in 1991, and was replaced with something no one understood yet, and which was constantly turning over, in which nothing was certain and outside influences (the real West, not the imagined West which had fueled and sustained many in the Eastern Bloc) and inside corruption had combined into a brand new form of exploitation and hollowing-out of a system which had been concealing its own emptiness for decades. That's not better. Just because the USSR was bad didn't make the alternative good. When your world ends, it doesn't matter if you liked it or not, it's still gone. And what comes next is as hostile and unknown as the ever-promised socialist future (never coming, just promised) was welcoming and familiar.

Hey! So I'm writing a story that takes place in 1995, the majority of the main cast having grown up during the USSR of course - it's been an excuse to learn more about soviet politics and things like that, but I'm struggling with writing a character who still identifies with the soviets and is bitter about the country falling. What's hard for me with this is trying to understand what sort of sentiments he'd have for the USSR? He's 26 in the year 1995, and his story arch centers around him immigrating to the States for family obligations and how unhappy he is with how much the world has changed around him and all.

Kind of a general not really a question question but lmfao any tips on how I could be fleshing out his politics? He grew up in Leningrad specifically so I'm sure that'd affect the way nostalgia plays into it and all, yeah?

I imagine there was a lot of bitterness about the fall of the USSR in 1995. One thing I can think of, the character would only use Soviet-era names for everything. Many toponyms were changed back to pre-Soviet names after 1991, most notably the name of the city itself (Leningrad / Saint Petersburg) and a lot of street names. I found the list here (see 1991).

Although, to be frank, many people did that then simply out of habit, not political stance. My parents called Nizhny Novgorod 'Gorky' for like 20 years after it was renamed in 1991.

Maybe he could mention the loss of the sense of stability, safety and the omnipresent hope for a bright future. 1990s in Russia were a chaos of lost hopes, new Western products, lack of money, racketeering and price surges.

[aturinfortheworse]

it may have taken me 15 years but i have finally learned to make sure each draft of a book contains a note right at the start saying "Here's when I started this draft and why and how it relates to the other twenty-seven-and-a-half drafts with titles like 'The Remaining Gods 2018 (Older) Unabridged Edited.'"

[st4rstudent]

bugthinker but I just did whatever to him

bonus slop

[ficandkaboodle]

The reason Copia sucks at video games so much is because when Primo told Terzo they had to share the Atari, Terzo gave Copia a controller that wasn’t even plugged in. And he never caught on.

[weekendviking]

Actually, good summary, excepting cast iron is _too_much_ carbon - usually about 5-6%. For carbon steels, you want between 0.7-2%, if that, which is the reason for cast iron then going to the oxygen blast furnaces. Basically, there were historically two ways to get iron - Bloomery Smelter, which was the smallish charcoal fueled cylindrical stack furnace used by most iron age cultures throughout the world, and which only went out of fashion in the 18th century, and higher bellows efficiency Blast Furnaces, which were initially a thing with the Chinese, and stayed there, and weren't really a thing anywhere else until the 16th century and later, and what we call a Blast Furnace didn't really turn up until Bessemer made a breakthrough in the early 19th century.

The principle reason for the difference between Asian Blast furnace technology and Indo-Euro-Afro Bloomery furnace technology is that the first people in China who thought 'How do we make a thing to blow air at our fire to make it hotter' solved that problem by making a disc on a stick piston pump out of bamboo, while the first people who had that thought in India/Africa/Europe made a bag out of an animal skin and squeezed it. Both technologies then improved their system by putting inlet and outlet flap valves, tubes and refractory tuyere/nozzles on that, and pointing it at their furnace, and Yay, you can have a bronze age, and then later, an iron age. Away we go.

But, and this is crucial, the Chinese bamboo piston pump could have inlet and outlet flap valves at either end, so it was _double_acting_, whichever way the piston was moving, air was being pushed into the fire with very little pause between strokes. This made it more efficient, and very scaleable, because you can build a very big wooden box with a piston and inlet/outlet valves at either end with very little other tool and infrastructure needed. Whereas if you're making bellows like all the rest of us, out of a couple of animal skins, well, the rest of us quite quickly changed our skin bag to 'two wooden flaps and a hinge and a flap valve, and if you want continuous air flow, use two or more at once', and that bellows style of 'two big wooden panels with handles on the end and a leather bag' sorta limited the size and efficiency and stayed with us to the early blast furnace era in the 17th-18th century and then finally went out of style as we got steam power and could use fans instead. But over in China, those big bamboo piston derived double action box bellows meant that in their bronze age, they were doing tonnes of bronze at once, whereas everyone else was mostly doing much smaller kilos to tens of kilos or hundreds of kilos, not tonnes to tens of tonnes, all because of the more efficient bellows technology in China.

But that meant, as the knowledge that you could get a useful metal out of rusty ochre ores spread out of Anatolia, when that knowledge got to China, well, they chucked a whole lot of it in one of their big ass high oxygen blast box bellows furnaces, and got a molten, high carbon, brittle cast iron out of it. And said 'This stuff is shit, use it to cast hoes and stuff for farming and munitions grade weapons, we'll keep to bronze for fancy weapons and important stuff,' and muddled on that way for some (centuries!? I think) before realising that the reason the iron from the other guys was better was because their bag bellows furnaces were shittier and lower temperature and so were not getting hot enough to melt the ore completely and produce liquid carburised cast iron, but instead were getting 1100-1200 degree ish reducing conditions that were barely liquefying the ore, stripping the oxygen off it with carbon monoxide, and a spongey mass of iron would grow in the molten silicate and iron slag bath at the base of the stack below the bellows nozzle. Which then had to be hammer wrought to weld it all together and squeeze the slag out to produce a workable wrought iron, and steel was a little understood thing that happened sometimes in smelting, but usually by cementation/case hardening, but was hit and miss. But iron was everywhere, so wrought iron for all and sometimes steel was better than bronze for some. So the Chinese had to work backwards to make lower efficiency furnaces to get useful sponge iron bloomery furnaces (still with box bellows, just not going as hard on the blast, and smaller). Roman bloomery furnaces, for example, sometimes got big enough to accidentally produce cast iron, and they'd throw it out as a waste product.

But the problem is that bloomery iron production, although giving a product that was a workable iron, made small lumps - kilos to tens of kilos at a time, and even at their largest, never really more than hundreds of kilos at a time, and each bloom a bit different, so hard to get uniform product, and nobody really understood how to get rid of things like phosphorus, so you get the 'Ok, iron from this region is ok for farm tools and wrought work and goes black and doesn't corrode, but is too brittle for cutting edges' (high phosphorus ore) and 'Ok, iron from that region is good for steel and doesn't get as brittle, use that for cutting edges and weapons' (low phosphorus ore, etc)

Now, lots of cultures kept, or started, as they got big bellows technologies, producing cast iron in blast furnaces, because large volumes of uniform quality cast iron is great for cheap tools, cookpots, and once you understand how to get the bubbles out of it, cannons, and also cos big bellows blast furnaces are also great for doing large volumes of copper alloy stuff for all your cupro alloy needs, but also self aggrandisment statues or Vatican Doors or again, Cannons. But we were all stuck with small batch bloomery stack furnaces to make workable wrought iron for steel until the 17th-18th century, maxing them out to as big as they'd go without making too much accidental cast iron. By the mid 18th century, I think, puddling techniques had turned up for slowly turning high carbon cast iron into workable low carbon iron - really awful job, standing with a long iron rake in front of an open blast hearth stirring a puddle of molten cast iron around to burn off enough carbon that a lump of malleable sponge iron began to form under your rake, which you could then turn into steels or wrought iron. Various versions of this process were independently developed. (There's some evidence that there were Chinese versions of malleable white cast iron developed back in the Han dynasty, and were used intermittently to the Tang dynasty, too).

But the modern blast process turned up from people like Bessemer, Kelly, Naysmith, etc, in Europe, UK and America, all around the 1840s, as multiple groups experimented with improving that awful (and worker health destroying) puddling furnace process, with different versions of blowing an air blast, oxygen blast etc, over, around or through your vessel of molten high carbon cast iron, to burn off just enough carbon to turn it into steel, but not so much that you burnt it all off and your useful alloying components too. That couple decades between the 1840s to 1860s solved the base problems of turning high carbon but large volume cast iron blast furnace product into useful steel and iron alloys to allow us to escape the small batch production bottleneck of the two and a half thousand year old bloomery process, which @iamthepulta has covered above.

But of course now we're cooking ourselves, so we need to shift as many of our necessary materials production and use processes to carbon neutral, or carbon negative. In the case of steel, while arc furnaces are now a mature technology for alloying and recycling, it's hard to get the carbon and oxygen intensive reactions out of iron smelting to produce your arc furnace feedstock, but it looks like hydrogen is the way to go: Fe2O3 + 3H2 = 2Fe + 3H2O. People have been fiddling with that reaction since the 1950s, but the problem is that it's endothermic, and wants 95.8 kJ/mol to run in the direction we like. So you have to put in A Lot of energy with your hydrogen, and that means you need to do this sort of hydrogen reduction of iron ores at locations of large availability of hydropower or other non fossil fuel electricity, and where you can store large volumes of electrolytically produced hydrogen (preferably in salt mine cavities). The HYBRIT process seems to be the people most successful, but the problem is that it's around 30% more expensive than even the most efficient carbon based iron reduction processes:

success, everybody, i thought about something other than vampires for like a twenty minute stretch. the something was: electric arc furnaces

about 7% of us coal consumption is metallurgical coal, which is used (after being coked) as fuel for blast furnaces. blast furnaces smelt ore and scrap metal, usually to make steel. most coal in the united states is used for the power grid & must be replaced with renewable sources, but it's a little more straightforward to see how that swap needs to go; we need better batteries & genuine investment, there are questions about where & how those renewable sources should be generated, & i do think that our power consumption needs to fall. it's less obvious how we might replace metallurgical coal, though, because we still need steel. electric arc furnaces are efficient, cheaper, smaller, and more capable of running variable loads than blast furnaces, but almost all of them are for the scrap metal -> steel process, they're not for iron ore -> iron -> steel. but we are getting better at making them! so i read through part of a DoE powerpoint & glowered at links to mckinsey reports about it. i don't know anything really about metals mining, mostly i've just read about coal & all of that from a labor safety perspective, but i'm very curious about the, like. engineering problems (and also still labor safety & environmental problems) presented by trying to genuinely transition away from coal, which we absolutely must do, like guys even UMWA is out here like 'we gotta stop pulling this shit out of the ground' [official position of union president cecil roberts is that coal miners & their communities need a 'just transition' away from coal]

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[thesmokinpossum]

Didn't felt like mentioning it immediately but shoutout to my sick and twisted brain for getting so triggered by an unexpected Christmas parade that I ended up havin the absolute worst panic attack of my entire life (potentially the only real one? I've had a couple other episodes I thought of as panic attacks but they were not even close to that so who knows) to the point where I spent the very last day of my 30th year on this earth in the ER, good times, good times 😊

[spiderwebbd]

Hello PHIGHTING fandom please accept this peace offering in exchange for letting me in your humble community

Alt version of boombox below :]

[ruvviks]

coming up with zombie apocalypse stories is always fun because you can just say whatever and people will just have to take your word for it