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horce-divorce · 1 month

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I think that anon belied a common misconception among many well-meaning people, too, that is actually worth addressing, wrt my donation posts: I DONT usually get money from strangers, and I DONT put those posts up with any expectations at all! Sometimes they don't work! Sometimes we get nothing for weeks on end, or just $5 here and there, and we go a month without everything that we need, and we make do with what we can find anyway.

But the thing is, when I do put up a post and I ask for money, I'm NOT asking strangers. I have a TON of connections near & far that I talk to online. I'm putting out a call to all of my friends, giving them an update, and saying, "hey if any of you is better off right now, we could use a hand!" often my friends are no better off than me, and they can't help. that's fine! Its hard times for everyone! that's why I know they don't begrudge me for asking.

In fact, a lot of my friends send me money WITHOUT me asking!! one of my IRL friends has learned to recognize when I need more help and I'm playing it down. They gave me $60 just recently, after I waffled for hours about taking their money, and finally told them I could get by the rest of the week on $30-50. Another friend, someone I've known since we were toddlers, sent me $80 out of the blue several months ago just bc she missed us and was thinking of us, and she had a little extra. Last time we talked to her, I mentioned how our food stamps got cut, & we'd be out for another week. She venmo'd me $30 labeled "pizza tears" before we even got off the phone (which I think was hilarious fwiw). A different friend recently heard that Bel and I wanted to go on a date to taco bell, and when I said we could do it for under $20, she gave me $50 and said "make sure you get the cinnabons!!!" Another friend bought me winter boots and socks this year as soon as i said i didnt have any- THE best, warmest, cosiest socks I've ever owned. Last year, one (1) of my tumblr mutuals covered my ENTIRE cost of post-op care for top surgery. I said "I'll probably need $$$" and they covered all of it! That same person has bought me groceries, meds, and gas on many other occasions, too. All of these people are folks I've known for years either thru tumblr or IRL.

Very occasionally, it's a newer mutual or even a stranger. One time, when I was still on Twitter and very early in my transition, I said something about how gender affirming my old high school Chuck Taylor's were and how I missed them so. My mutual from another COUNTRY immediately sent me $60 for gender affirming Chuck Taylor's. I haven't spoken to that person since Twitter went south, sadly. If youre still out there, I named my shoes after you, Bergamot & Jones, and I think of you every time I step outside. Another time, a guy who wasn't even my mutual sent me a bunch of binders and boxers for free. Sometimes even my old coworkers from my mall days pop up out of the woodwork and send me 20 bucks or something.

I have more stories like this. Not even just about money. Like that guy who saw me pop a flat tire in the mall parking lot and insisted on changing it for me.

I actually also never feel guilty about asking for what I need, or accepting it, and you shouldn't either. I don't like this idea that you need to grovel and be exactly This self-flagellating and full of hatred and remorse to ride and earn one (1) morsel of kindness. What do I look like, a Catholic? You dont have to apologize for wanting to stay alive. You didn't ask to be born, and you weren't the one that put a price on living!

You know what I do instead? Pay it forward. Yes, I ebeg often, yet I, too, will sometimes send $5, $10, $30 to people I care about whenever we wind up with a little extra. You can't save money as a poor person anyway, it doesn't work, so why cling to my last few pennies when someone else could use it right now? I've watched Bel give away his last $5 to a different homeless person twice since we've been living in the car. One time we stayed and had dinner with the guy and his dog. He was a hitchhiker named Ray and he was SO interesting to talk to.

There are studies that show that the most generous people when it comes to donating are NOT the people with the most money. It's the poorest ppl in the community who have been or are in your shoes, and who know how you feel, who pitch in when you need it most. Hence the community $20. The idea that panhandlers are expecting something from well-off strangers who can't empathize with us is like... kinda silly lmao, we know most of those ppl hate our fucking guts and want us dead, actually. (Are rich ppl really just that threatened by the idea of sharing that they see someone going "help please (generally speaking)!" And they immediately go "ugh, ME????? How dare you ask ME specifically for MY hard earned money?????" Idk it kinda tracks.)

I also use a jovial tone in a lot of my posts because I have to ask for help a lot, and it gets tiring to everyone to constantly hear "I'm soooo sorry for being such a needy piece of GARBAGE, AGAIN, I really hate that i have to do this, but..." because that's just The Friend Who Is Apogizing For Breathing. That doesn't feel good to hear any more than it does to say, no one likes that. And yes SOME people DO want you to feel that way about needing help- but its not going to be the people who will help you, I promise you that. Also, think about what you're saying when you talk about yourself like that. Why are you garbage? Because the cost of living is too high? Because your boss doesn't pay you a living wage? Because your landlord wrings you dry? Because you can't afford your meds or food? How is any of that actually about you at all? How does being hungry and wanting to live make you garbage???

Deeply unfortunately, you also tend to get more attention with a chipper tone and a preemtive "thank you" instead of an "oh God oh God oh God I'm so sorry I'm so fucking sorry, fuck!!!!" I also won't imply urgency where there isn't any. Sometimes we DO need money asap and it's like, we'll literally be stranded in the woods with no food if we don't get it. But other times, we need money, but like, we have time to figure it out. I save the urgency for the times I really need it.

Instead I focus on the positive: I DO have a lot of friends who care about me, all over, and even strangers who care about me, too! Those people have been keeping my ass alive for YEARS! They shouldn't have to do that! I shoudlnt have to beg to continue to use my own organs! But also, how cool are my friends for being the realest commies I know??? They're not going to just let me die out here. Why would I be sad about that? Why would I feel bad about people caring about me and wanting to see me pull through? Why would I apologize for proving that the human loving spirit is in fact alive and well? In the times when there IS less urgency, I think it's just nicer to my friends to make a lighter hearted post once in a while- you know, for the ones constantly seeing this stuff and helping me out. I think it's nice to acknowledge them in a positive way, instead of always being like "god im do sorry that im STILL BREATHING, i know you guys HATE that!!!"

Like. Idk if this is making sense. Remember that post where the person was telling their partner, "I'm just so worried that you'll think I'm stupid and want me to shut up," and their partner said, "Thats kind of mean, I wish you wouldn't think of me that way"? It's like that. If your friends and mutuals wanted you to shut up and die and feel guilty for living, they wouldn't be sharing your posts or donating to you, and it's kind of... mean? To get off on that foot. It's like we expect people to only help us begrudgingly. Thats not true at all! Donation posts are optional. Most people who reply to them do so because they're in a position to help and they WANT to, because it makes them feel good.

It's thanks to my friends that I am still alive to make all these delightful posts for them to read. They want me to stay alive because they like having me around. So i try to continue to be that presence in exchange for their love and suppport, and yes, i will incorporate that into my posts asking for help, especially if its a less time-sensitive ask. Idk like, re-framing a situation and focusing on the positive is a basic coping skill from many types of therapy and I hate to say this but it really is good for you. (Also fwiw I try to always say "thank you" to every individual who sends me money, each and every time. Sometimes they don't let me send messages back thru the pay apps, and sometimes I forget, but I try to every time.)

Plus, damn near EVERYONE needs help right now! Poverty and income inequality and chronic houslessness and chronic ILLNESS are all at ALL TIME HIGHS. Pre-covid 25% of the population was disabled. I wonder what it will look like next time we get a handle on those numbers?

So just to be clear, again: I don't expect donations to pull us out of poverty! If that were realistic, it would have already happened, ive been doing this for a decade. I don't expect strangers to have a stake in our situation, either. All either of us want is to be able to keep living our lives as best as we can for as long as we can- and a lot of our friends, and other people, DO sympathize with that. That's a point of pride for the community I've chosen for myself. I refuse to feel guilty about surrounding myself with caring, wonderful people who actually read my posts. That sounds like a pretty big win for me actually lmao.

AND I refuse to feel guilty and self-deprecating over circumstances that are out of my control and don't actually weigh on my character whatsoever. Being disabled isn't a character flaw. Being unemployable bc of my symptoms isn't something that's "wrong" with ME. Being homeless during an ALL TIME RECORD HIGH of homelessness ISNT something thats "wrong" with "me," and it's not something I would want anyone else to feel guilty over, either! These things don't determine who I am as a person or the impact I have on the people around me. Clearly I continue to have a positive impact and be a good friend, or asking my friends for help wouldnt be keeping me alive. I simply don't have enough followers to get that much money from strangers lol. And I have more followers than a lot of people (around 1500 currently).

So yeah, this is to everyone else who's ever felt horrifically guilty for asking for help online or otherwise: even if you dont have a lot of connections and you ARE asking for help from strangers, needing one another isnt a character flaw! The people who care will WANT to help anyway, period. It makes people feel good to know they can help. And yes it does make people feel better to hear a "thank you! we are still alive and happy to be here!" Over a "fuck God I'm so sorry I'm still alive and burdening you all so with my high cost of breathing!!!!" I'm so sorry that you have to have a body! Me, too, bud. It's rough, but it's gonna be ok.

Anyway needing help is morally neutral. Now im just thinking about the way the upper class has poor people at each other's throats for the perceived "selfishness" of needing help- because in a world where you are constantly burnt out from work, and the value of a dollar is so horribly out of proportion to the effort it takes to earn, sharing that hard-won effort with anyone else does sometimes feel like too much. Im thinking about the way hoarding wealth & resources & keeping them behind paywalls is seen not only as morally superior but a sign of objective intelligence and life skills, vs how the way sharing is construed as foolishness, the way needing help to stay alive is construed as greed, while the upper class that literally stays healthy and youthful and thrives on the blood, sweat and tears of the lower class gets to pat themselves on the back for being morally superior, individualist, and "not needing anyone." Kinda makes me sick when I put it like that!

Anyway. Again, needing help is morally neutral, especially in this economy, and I refuse to hate myself for circumstances that aren't my fault and for having people in my life who are invested in me and want to see me pull through. Everyone deserves friends like that, and I hope you find them.

#me #homelessness #disability stuff #long post #car living #in case you missed the context #i had put out a donation post w a lighter tone. the one w the kitty gif on it #and this anon was like soo mad that i was 'trying to be funny and cute' instead of begging desperately #but ive been wanting to make this post for a while anyway just bc so many people do this #the whole oh my god im so fuckint sorry i have to do this again im so sorry to besmirch your dash and darken your doorstep etc etc #im sorry but i really feel like the ONLY people who WANT to hear that #are ppl like my anon who spend 0% of their time helping anyone ever #and most of their time saying shit like '97% of poor people have refrigerators' type shit #(real thing from fox news a few yrs back icymi. like poor people arent THAT poor. see. refrigerators!)#the only type of person who wants to see you self-flagellate for needing help getting meds #is someone who doesnt think anyone should ever have help getting meds.#wow i couldve just said that and instead heres a 10k word essay rofl.#anyway!!!!!

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lightyearssurrogatedaddy · 4 months

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Should I make a New Year's appreciation post too? Cus I saw someone else do it.

Idkkk this year was pretty wack, I met God for five seconds, met God again, improved my art, bawled like a baby, had sixteen sexuality awakenings before I decided to go unlabeled, and met some pretty incredible people that I plan on canibalistically consuming.

Started last year hating myself and crying, started this year feeling grumpy but that's prolly just because I woke up early today. I learned this terrible, terrible fact that I'm allowed to be loved and I spear fought that for a good few months ngl.

Learned that being cringe is awesome

Learned how to write

Learned that people are more terrifying than what I previously anticipated but that just makes me love them even more

I know the meaning of life (no I don't) (I've scraped it up to "fuck around and find out" and I suggest it as s tier advice) (actually no I don't)

Learned how to make a boiled potato (singular)

Life's pretty cool I didn't expect this at all. It threw me a curveball at half time and I got all my teeth knocked out. It's been a weird experience so far, I think I, did that thing, yk that thing humans do, yeah I think I shed a few cells and grew a little bit. Whoa. Crazy.

I learned that in hindsight this post doesn't really matter, but that's not gunna stop ME from giving a smooch to everyone I love. They like, changed the way I exist. I don't remember feeling this loved and thought of before, it's eerie, really eerie.

Learned how to like myself even a tiny bit, because of all of you. I owe you a lot.

(am I allowed to tag people?) (Sorry I'm still borderline new at this) (I don't wanna bother anyone with my silliness) (maybe I'll just say your names instead of tagging you and hope it magically summons you) (or maybe I won't)

@crunchontoast (for yk, everything. If I even attempt to write it all out we'll be here for days. Summing it up feels inadequate but I realize that I don't have to explain anything in a post to strangers online. Cus you already know and that's awesome)

@karineverse (for being a real one and listening to me ramble. Helping me figure out shapes for characters. You're a silly sills)

@fl0w3rg0at (for being one of my besties for almost three years at this point, I think. Whoa yeah. And for sticking with me through all my crappy phases)

I'm feeling awkward I hate emotions (‼️‼️‼️)

My Mom (thank you mom. ✨How did you survive me✨)

My Cousin (for getting me Hollow Knight for Christmas. And also for texting me once per year) (a real one fr)

My Cat (for giving me snuggles when I most needed it)

I wanna tag Tacol0ser can I tag Tacol0ser? Anyways (for being the silly guy in my Ao3 comments section and giving me bursts of confidence. You're cool)

My Bestie Since 1st Grade (for being like a sister to me, our lives are pretty rough and I'm glad we have each other. Let's hold hands and go downtown for pizza again)

Oh sorry did you expect more people? My b most of them are off Tumblr. Anyways I tried tell me when to delete this cus my nerves are getting the best of me.

Ah wait and thanks for Tumblr for giving me a shitton of new memes to bother folks with.

#lsd's bullshit

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minuy600 · 6 months

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The 70s Wrap Up #17: Lunar Rescue (Arcade)

Taito Legends is cool. You get to learn about some of the wackiest, most well hidden arcade games through them. We'll see it be well used in the near future, but as for now, I have to do this with the wildly expensive yet better emulated Space Invaders Invisible Collection on Switch. Ugh, convenience alert.

We're back in space for the umpteenth time. Descending from a mothership to pick up stranded little dudes from the moon!! Saving them all while not crashing into obstacles, which cleverly change upon ascension, going from space junk to an all out UFO (and meteor) attack.

This gameplay loop ain't my favorite, but it's executed pretty well. Stages last a much longer time this time around too, considering there's 6 stranded stickmen to enact the game's title on every time. Quirky lil detail, dying by missing the mothership lets those goobers exclaim a disappointed 'Aaa...' and fall straight down into a void of nothingness. That's the second game with 'Lunar' in the title that manages to be sorta funny!

Not a lot to say about this one that isn't redundant for this part of the review. It's a solid title that doesn't much wrong without excelling particularly hard either. It's the nice goodie bag extra you'll look at twice and have fairly pleasant thoughts of.

The Verdict

Graphics (8): The age of the Space Invaders cabinet starts to show with how it's presented. The colors are still stuck to specific places on the screen, plus the framerate seems to be down on it's luck a tad here. The charm, however, is still intact. Possibly unintentionally, the spaceship you play as almost looks like a character on it's own, as does the mothership and a portion of the enemy UFOs. Can't forget about the Space Invaders showing up on the title screen and after stage 3 too! For the hardware, this is cool beans.

Sound (6): Swing and a near-miss. A lot of sounds are particularly pleasing on the ears, it all sounds like a weaker copy of the plentiful other space games. Makes sense, it's still gonna recycle some of the Space Invaders spunk baked in. Too bad there's only a couple new noises that actually work. There's alright fanfares for when you succesfully rescue a man (an even better one when you rescue them all in a stage), as well as the sound effect for when you have shot an UFO being an improvement over the aliens of old. Aside from those, you get a lovely cacophany of beeps and sirens. I could've done without them.

Gameplay (7): It all works well, like shit, Taito knows how to make a polished title, yet I can't deny that their first big hit was also their only truly jaw dropping one for a while. This introduces a new concept to the table that i've not seen before, I like that too. Unfortunate that it can't quite shake my difficulty of talking about it since it is so self explanatory. It's entirely satisfactory!

Longevity (7): Real talk, the loop gets old fairly quickly. Outside of the randomness factor which I still approve of, it's not gonna be too difficult to beat 3 stages and see the little Space Invaders easter egg before the game maxes out. Beating Taito's 5000 points isn't a hard task either if you know what you're doin'. Slightly disappointing it didn't try to introduce new gimmicks or at least had you try to beat the max difficulty before seeing the cutscene. Still, if you're an arcade nut from the early 80s, chances are you're gonna have your eyes peeled to it for a decent amount of time.

In Conclusion

I'm done! That's all for the 70s, folks. One more tier list and we are rarely gonna have to refer to this day and age ever again. Thanks for sticking with me throughout these 49 games, here's to so, so many more. Hopefully my writing will improve over time and I can get more in depth with my thoughts, I have not been very confident about my skills as of late...

#retro gaming #minuy600 #review #sona #taito #arcade #1979 #lunar rescue

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necromeowncy · 1 year

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If I weren't so nervous, I'd write this on Twitter or AO3, but you don't know how many times I've read and re-read your works. Without the slightest idea of names and events because I've never played any FF game. That doesn't stop me from enjoying reading your fics and enjoying your character. If you ever wrote a novel, I'd likely read that too.

I don't know - I just felt like sharing this. If it's not too late, I'd love it if you'd answer this. Other than Aedric & his snacks. (Which is really, really sweet in itself.) 51: What’s a nonverbal way they say I love you?

Hello anon, please don't be nervous - because I promise you I am even more of a nervous wreck! :) That being said, this is perhaps the most wonderful message I've ever received; I had no idea my writing for this ship breached containment out of the wolgraha/ffxiv tag, let alone that people were reading them that had no idea who or what a G'raha Tia or elezen even was. I woke up this morning to this anon and I almost started sobbing because it made me so happy. Thank you, truly and deeply. I don't even have the words for what this means to me. But perhaps I'll find some; be prepared for a long post!

I am, surprisingly, currently writing an original fantasy novel, and it means the world to me that folks would actually be interested in reading it. I never know if I should mention anything here on my fandom Tumblr about it, as I understand the novelist world at large sometimes looks down on fanfiction authors. But this anon made me realize I probably shouldn't dice myself up into tiny, palatable pieces in order to find respect in the writing community. So I'll talk about it here:

I'm writing a queer fantasy novel that has the tentative title of This Gift Illuminated. It's still in its early stages, and I have been going back and forth on if I'm going to self-publish or just host the story on my own website for people to read for free. For the very first time publicly, I'll share the synopsis:

The world is losing its magic. For centuries, the human Kingdom of Meyra had one rule: those born with mageblood, known as the Gifted, must submit to the royal palace to further their study in the arcane arts. These days, mageblood is rare. So when Farin shows signs of being touched by magic, he's sent away to study in the capitol along with any other Gifted, as rare as they may be. He'd welcome this opportunity with open arms, especially since it means corresponding letters with a mysterious magics expert named Elias. The nation that had long given up on magic now has a new hope. In the elf kingdom of Rime, Elias remains the only person stubbornly dedicated to the study of the arcane. Having lost the last of their magic decades ago, the elves have built a thriving nation with the ingenuity of technological marvels. Elias's many letters to the aging human mages of Meyra have been met with silence and dismissal - until one day his letters are answered by a newly appointed Gifted. Perhaps this Farin is the key to unlocking why both of their peoples have been losing touch with the arcane - as well as save the human kingdom before they suffer the same magic-bereft fate. This Gift Illuminated is a tale of love and learning in a changing world.

Two scholars in different nations fall in love after exchanging letters for years. They are nerds. There are elves and magic, as this seems to be my wheelhouse, so I'm going to stay aboard the "awkward elf nerd and excitable wizard" train as long as I can. I may post more about this on my personal Tumblr @thewizardtower ! I'm thinking of sharing some of the prose, but I'm unsure. Who knows, I might be brave and share the prologue!

And, at last - your wolgraha prompt! Thank you for this.

51. What’s a nonverbal way they say I love you?

Aedric and G'raha both share the love language of touch. Oftentimes, they'll both be reading side-by-side. Even if they're reading separate books entirely, they'll still manage to sit close enough that their knees will brush, or their shoulders will lean against one another, or their spare fingers will interlace - silent, save for the turning of the occasional page, or the flickering of a candle's flame. Sometimes, they'll sit in each others laps wordlessly. Or lazily comb fingers through the other's hair. Sometimes, too, G'raha's tail will wrap around Aedric, and that is perhaps Aedric's favorite. The comforting physical presence of being near each other does wonders on their healing hearts after their many trials and near-death experiences. Just knowing that the other is here within touching distance - alive, whole - is perhaps the greatest healing spell in all of Etheirys.

#thank you for the ask!#you are wonderful #things like this are what keep me writing #I feel beyond blessed right now #thank you again #feel free to send me a DM any time seriously #asks #writing #wolgraha #aedraha #aedric vaillencourt #ffxiv fanfiction #g'raha tia #This Gift Illuminated #might as well start a tag for it right?

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buddiebeginz · 9 months

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I just watched Red, White, and Royal Blue for the first time the other day, loved it. I think I've watched it at least 10 times since then. 😝 Haven’t read the book yet so as usual I’m behind everyone else. But I wanted to make this post because I’ve seen numerous comments on social media criticizing the movie for not having lgbtq actors playing the main roles.

As someone who is bi I’m really frustrated that this continues to be an issue the lgbtq community is pushing. I've seen it happen with other movies and shows where actors have been harassed on their social media because they've taken queer roles and they're straight or straight presenting to the world.

I definitely believe we should push for better and more representation for lgbtq actors (especially poc and trans people) in Hollywood but that doesn’t have to mean every lgbtq role needs to go to an lgbtq actor.

For me as a queer person what matters most is that our stories are told by people doing it with the most care and authenticity possible.

One of my favorite shows of all time is Queer as Folk (the original US version from the early 2000's). The cast included a few lgbtq actors (and had lgbtq creators at the helm) but was mostly made up of straight actors. The show isn't without it's faults especially for the time period it was made in but for me personally it's one I most identify with. I never felt like the cast was just doing their job and the relationships especially within the main group felt real and relatable. The show also never shied away from showing true intimacy between their characters. At a time when gay sex was not a thing in media at all let alone on tv QAF was not afraid to be as raw and vulnerable with their characters as possible. No matter where the show took things the cast whether gay or straight always came off as people invested in the scene. You could also tell their commitment to the show when they did interviews back then and again years later when they've done reunions etc.

You can see the same kind of commitment to the story with Taylor and Nick in RWRB. You can see it in the movie and in some of the interviews we've been able to see when they've talked about their roles or working with each other and how much working on this has meant to them.

I get why people want to see queer parts go to queer actors when they don't get cast as much as they should and as I said that needs to change but I think we can push for changes while still praising important moments like this movie being made. I also don't think that actors should be pigeonholed into being hired solely based on their sexuality. The more society pushes for this it won't be helping rather it will hurt lgbtq actors who already have a hard time getting roles that aren't specifically for queer people. Gay men in particular are often passed over for leading man roles because it's a long running stereotype of Hollywood that no one wants to see a gay man as a straight romantic lead or an action hero.

The other problem here is I think we need to stop with this obsession of needing to know celebrities sexuality. Just because a character is lgbtq doesn't mean we need to verify that the actor is too especially if that's not something the actor wants to talk about it.

I think that Nicholas and Taylor deserve every bit of praise for the job they did. I don't think their sexuality matters here whatever that is because at the end of the day they both put their all into telling Alex and Henry's love story. Just as much as they would have if they were acting with someone of the opposite sex more so in some ways I'd argue. You can tell they felt the gravity of what they were making and and how important this story already was to so many people.

#rwrb #rwrb!#rwrb*

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fashionlandscapeblog · 1 year

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In Search of Lost Time

Here's my unimportant little story:

I spent 10 years of my life (I'm now 43) being a passionate fashion, interior, and art blogger and influencer. I quit this year, because I got sick of a lot of shit (particularly the fakeness of most of my peers in the fashion world, and the fashion world itself) and this socalled 'career' was taking me nowhere. That I got successful at it was something very organic and absolutely unexpected (I was an early bird getting the worm too), but I continued with it, despite my lifetime dream to become an avant-garde artist (before I started being a blogger, I had just gotten rejected from Egon Schiele's former academy of arts).

In my heyday, I was one of the top fashion bloggers in Germany. I left a giant body of work and every bit of it was 100% me. I called my style 'minimal luxe' and it consisted of a quiet elegance with lots of leather since I've been an anarchist and punk at heart for most of my life, of architectural and playful silhouettes because I actually studied architecture and as a designer, I wanted to achieve formal beauty with my outfits, minimalist, because I believe in a very much needed environmental-friendly philosophy that encourages people to consume less and stick to essentials. I played with proportions, asymmetric lines, volume, high quality materials and textures, shapes. I was bullied when I was younger for always wearing black and was even nicknamed 'Morticia' by my classmates (no, I was never a goth, but I felt black was elegant).

Even though, back then there were a few bloggers with a similar aesthetic, what I created was very individual, since it mixed things that only belong to me based on my ideals and experiences. I struggled for years not posting what the algorithm 'liked' (I got sick of sneaker outfits which was what most people wanted to see), but thought some day it would pay off to be myself. Well, it didn't. After a few years a handful of extremely hyped new younger influencers appeared and all of a sudden, I saw them wearing ALL of the same small niche brands I did for years, I saw them wearing similar silhouettes, a similar aesthetic and sometimes even nearly identical outfits. Some go as far as posting the exact topics I did since my beginning (film, fine art, architecture). If I post Bergman's Persona, you'll see them the next day posting a story about it, if I threw myself off a bridge, so will day. But nobody (expecially younger folks) gives a shit, because the past doesn't matter to them, but who and what is 'in' today is what is relevant. I do hope karma bites them in the ass at some point in their later lives to see how it feels like to be the early bird and be replaced. And maybe this rant concerns no-one and it is irrelevant with our current climate change crisis and ongoing war, it seems even banal. But how do I recover and search my lost time?

It's so weird to see a girl in their early 20's and 30's dressing up like a 40 year old. And what is weirder is the lack of identity/personality and intellectual honesty taking credit for what is not theirs. It's so much fun to find yourself while you are young than just emulating another human being. It's so much fun to embrace your true ideals and beliefs and express them with fashion (I doubt any of these girls have concerns about global warming or minimalism by flexing in a disturbingly constant manner their new designer gifts, or listen to punk or that they were called Morticia when they were younger).

Do you want to be an influencer? Don't waste your time, that's my two cents. Today you are at the top and tomorrow you are nothing replaced by younger, more beautiful, skinnier girl (if they happen to be white, their privilege does the rest). Invest that energy in something that will leave your positive mark in the world FOREVER and not in something so vapid and ephemeral, so self-centered as a fashion influencer. Despite everything, I still do believe that if you follow your passion you will be the best at it.

#fashion influencer

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poppinisperfection · 3 years

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Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop.

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had.

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle.

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague.

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out.

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven.

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain.

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer.

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside.

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished.

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway.

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed.

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in.

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision.

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen.

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice.

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else.

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream.

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe.

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform.

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment.

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again.

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence.

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently.

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

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nothorses · 3 years

Note

i've been thinking about this for a few days and trying to finally kind of put this into words. sorry if this turns out to be really long. ^^;

growing up queer in romania (which is..not the most accepting place, to put it mildly), english speaking online spaces were where i first found some kind of acceptance. i've been active on the internet since i was around 12 or 13, aka when i first started questioning, and the more i found out about myself, the more i distanced myself from my country and culture out of fear and shame, to the point where i almost exclusively think in english and have even had a few dreams partially or exclusively in english. i've only now started to realise how deep this disconnect actually goes and i'm kinda having an existential crisis over not feeling like i belong anywhere.

being a queer person here is no walk in the park. religion is a huge part of most romanian people's lives (i'm pretty sure around 90% of romanian citizens are orthodox christians), so the vast, vast majority of the population is agressively conservative. when it comes to social justice causes progress is very stagnant, younger generations which are still raised by conservative parents refuse change and i've seen and gotten much more homophobia and transphobia from people close to my age (late teens/early 20s) than from others. i know of next to no trans people who were able to live normal, happy lives here. and sadly i think this will only get worse seeing the measures that neighbouring countries like hungary and poland are taking.

even before i realised i was trans, i couldn't relate to cis people and have always felt somewhat disconnected from my country. then, as i finally felt like i found a place for myself in (mostly american-centric) english speaking queer spaces, the disconnect only worsened. i felt like a foreigner in the country where i was born and where i still live. however there is only so much that i can learn about other places in the world without actually living there, and in a lot of cases a lot of stuff that applies there doesn't apply here at all. i have no language to express myself authentically, words like "gay", "lesbian", "trans" etc have been transformed into insults. there are barely any lgbt resources here, and even those are vastly targeted towards cis people. but i can't turn to a completley foreign community from mine for help either because they are mostly or almost exclusively by and for americans.

all of this leaves me completley confused. i plan on emigrating later in my life, but no matter what i will do the country and culture that i was born in will still be a part of me, no matter what i do to reject it. i don't know whether to push it away even further or embrace it. it's kind of a weird situation and i haven't seen this discussion anywhere else yet, which is why i wanted to put it in words. not sure if you can even relate to this at all, but thank you for listening anyway. love your blog!

I also really haven’t seen folks talk about this elsewhere, and I really appreciate you speaking up about it. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences.

I don’t think this is a weird experience; queer people exist everywhere, no matter what, and we always have. I can say with certainty that you aren’t the only trans person in that situation; you just don’t have contact with the others. Hell, until recent years, this was the most common experience for queer people worldwide!

Even the U.S. hasn’t always been as safe for queer people as it is today, and certain areas here are definitely more dangerous than others. You may find some historical accounts of queer experiences, even in the U.S., resonate with you more; like Stone Butch Blues, which talks quite a bit about what it was like trying to find community while trans in the 1950′s & onward.

I don’t personally have experience with this, and can’t offer much advice that I’m not sure you know already; there is likely some more underground community there, there are others like you, and hopefully you can build at least a few connections. Something is better than nothing, wherever and however you can get it.

Maybe others have more to add- and if not, maybe this will, at the very least, resonate with others & help someone feel less alone.

#queer #lgbtq #lgbt #trans #transgender #romania #romanian #best of luck anon 💙 you're doing a lot of good just talking about this #Anon #Ask

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thatwaywardwolf · 3 years

Text

It feels weird not posting as much as I used to. I chalk it up to life changes and how much has been going on lately.

As of now, I'm staying at a hotel while major renovations are going on at my place and my folks are keeping my partner and I posted about what's going on. It looks like they found a damn rain gutter in my bedroom wall for some reason, like my mom didn't describe it more, like if it was there the same way you'd install foam installation or it's just jutting in there. Which, in turn, lead to her saying we may have to stay a few more days. That doesn't bother me a whole lot, but I feel a sort of disconnect with not being at my altar and my partner and I still haven't figured out where we're going to set our mini one up since Day of the Dead is approaching and my partner likes to do something special every year.

Plus, I think it has me more nervous that I'm still thinking about all of our stuff in storage and if it's okay. Rationally, I know everything is fine, but still, being away from all my oddities, records, and stuff has me worn out. I also have all my medical stuff going on too, which is going to really start picking up once we leave and get settled back on - which isn't counting the days going into traveling back and forth from our unit for all of our stuff, finding a place for it, and all that too. It's going to be a big shock going back since it's getting repainted and I can only hope that it won't be too messy so I can get the altar set back up pronto.

I feel like I owe the gods that much since the very scarce libations I've made on my walks doesn't feel like a whole lot. Plus, it's been raining just about every day since we got here and I woke up to a storm this morning, which was kind of nice because it was kind of early for me. I'd like to hope that we can get the altar set up soon and I can offer up some instant coffee or sparkling juice, and one of the instant pot meals I picked up the other day for us to hold us over now that we have a burner and a pot from home here.

But to wrap this up, I'm fine. A bit tired and sore from walking up hill so much, but fine. The medical stuff may or may not be too much of a bad thing since I'm probably going to have no much else to do but rest for a while. Maybe I can get back to the swing of making offerings regularly then, or try to while I can here, though it's going to take some time to readjust.

Yeah, I'm off to rest now. It's been a weird day. Here's to hoping I'll have the altar up by the weekend since my family is dropping some stuff off for us again.

#adam rambles

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hainethehero · 4 years

Text

The HARRINGROVE War AU that no one asked for...

"Jetty!"

"Oh fuck!"

"Fucking hell man! We're fucking dead-"

"Shut the fuck up Meyers!"

"Andrews! Get the medic!"

"Fuck- my goddamn arm!"

"Tommy-!"

The sounds are still in his head, knocking around his brain inside his skull. His eyes haven't closed in days and he's pretty sure his skin is falling off his bones. He feels sick and dirty and his hair feels dirty and unkempt. It had grown back so fast in the short period of time he'd been here... in Hell.

His body hurts, bones jarring and scraping against each other with every movement. There's a throbbing on the left side of his ribs, and the stinging pain of a festering wound on his right. It's been burning for days. His legs are sore, right leg wrapped up to the knee and oozing thick, dark red. The bandages around his head have started getting sticky with sickening ointment and congealed blood. His lips sting painfully every time he passes his tongue over them. They're cracked and busted in several places, red and raw where the skin's been opened.

God, what had they done to him?

He feels a presence near him and freezes, even though the bombs ringing in his head don't quite stop exploding.

"Hi Ms. Nancy, how's he been?"

"You're always right on time Soldier."

The woman's voice sounds familiar but he can't place it in his hazed state.

"I made him a promise." The man responds, a dark, echoing loneliness in his voice.

"Of course," Ms. Nancy replies, walking closer to fix something very near to his left side.

And somehow, his body fails him and goes stiff, sitting upright with his eyes wide and frightened. His jaw is locked tight and his fists are clenched, knuckles white. Every instinct in his body is warning him to get away- to run away from the danger, as if he'd be torn apart by the bomb Ms. Nancy was currently setting atop the bed. A terrified whine escapes his throat and a solitary tear runs down his pale cheek.

"He's been getting worse huh?" The Soldier asks, not unkindly, just kind of sad.

"So far, we've only seen nine cases of men recovering from shell-shock. It's not promising... one of them died last night."

"Died? Did it spread?"

"No Soldier. He put a gun in his mouth."

There's a sudden silence that falls over them, cold breeze billowing through the over-arching windows of the stone Catholic church they'd set up the triage in. Even the pained and terrified moans and cries of grown men had fallen into the hush, as if God himself were present.

Then Ms. Nancy speaks again:

"There's been a new shipment of iodine and sodium hydroxide today. From the French. We've been ordered to ration it but I think he needs his wounds cleaned again."

"Thank you."

........................

He hates when the nurse bathes him.

Hates how useless it makes him feel. Hates that he'd become so cowardly, like a child afraid of the dark. Her thin but gentle hands wash over him, soothingly passing the clean water over his skin, careful not to disturb the wounds. But he feels so wounded all over.

By the time he's back in bed, the night has taken over for the day, and hundreds of his comrades have already conceded to sleep. But he stays wide awake, terrified and paranoid that a bomb's going to go off in the middle of the night and kill everyone while they rest peacefully. So he keeps his rifle by his bedside, ready for a fight.

"Goodnight Soldier." Ms. Nancy says softly, not to him, but to the man sitting beside him.

The Soldier's been with him since the trenches. He was a good man, and a steady presence of stability in these crazy days. He could recall some kind of kinship between them, comprised of half-hearted banter, terrible jokes and early morning conversations that were for their ears only. Talking to him had made being in those vile and unsanitary trenches a little better. They often talked about being back home, safe and surrounded by friends who loved them. Their families were another story but that was beside the point.

"Got a letter today," the Soldier tells him, drinking out of an aluminium canteen. His finger twitches, almost as if he's fighting to respond but is paralyzed to do so.

"From Maxine."

Maxine was Soldier's sister...

She told me that my Dad and Susan were planning to move out of California. Stupid, right? She said something about Indiana, and starting over in a small town. Who knows pretty boy? They might even move to that good ol' Hawkins you keep telling me about."

Pretty Boy... that's Soldier's pet name for him.

"A letter came for you too. From your father."

He must've gasped in shock because suddenly the Soldier is staring up at him with those unreal blue eyes, lips slightly parted in surprise. He feels the Soldier's hand on his shoulder and it's warm and comforting. It beds down the shock a little bit; shock at the fact that his father had written a letter to him. He may have been in shell-shock but even his mind could recall the time when John Harrington said that he was dead to him. That until he'd made something of himself, he would never be accepted- would never be his son.

"Steve? You with me kid?"

Kid.

The Soldier always called him that, despite being not much older himself. He preferred that nickname to rookie though, since he'd only just started while the Soldier had been on this tour since late last year. He remembers the absolute feeling of dread that had filled his body when the draft had come around and his name was on that godforsaken piece of paper. His parents had been all too ecstatic to ship him off on his merry way. He'd been writing to them, feverishly begging for their mercy. Hadn't gotten a letter back since he'd started writing to them.

"Wh- ...what d...does it say?" he hears himself ask softly, throat shaking with emotion. "Can- ...um, can you read it to me Bill?"

Billy- no longer the abstract Soldier in his mind- sighs and leans over in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He's holding a piece of paper in his hands, fists closed tight, his knuckles white.

"Please Bill..."

"Hold on pretty boy," Billy whispers as gently as he can, blue eyes staring hard at the neat, professional penmanship of who must've been John Harrington, Steve's father. It was concise and void of any kind of human emotion.

"Steve,

Stop sending us letters. It upsets your mother and I'm much too busy to sit down and write replies."

Billy feels his heart break into pieces for the poor kid and he doesn't have the heart to put him through such harsh words. He folds it up quickly and clears his throat.

"Y'know what? I brought Max's letter by accident."

"W- what?"

"Must've left it in the command wing. It's fine, we can always get it some other time."

Steve looks at him, big brown doe-eyes confused and sad at the same time. "What if it's an emergency?"

Billy scoffs. "Trust me, they ain't fighting a war back in ol' Hawkins. Your folks can wait. You on the other hand, need to get some sleep."

A soft smile creeps up on Steve's pretty face and he blushes soft pink. "Well at least tell me what's been going on Boss."

That was his pet name for Billy.

"Where's Tommy?"

Billy's expression suddenly changes and he's no longer pained. Just angry. And lost and so fucking confused. War brought out the worst in men, and it was always hard to fight alongside the corpses of men he'd spent weeks, months in the trenches with. They were all family, and losing even one of them was the worst pains Billy had ever faced.

Steve's hopeful expression turns ever so slightly and now he looks awfully worried.

"Bill? Billy where's Tommy?"

Billy glances up into the kid's eyes and sees nothing but hopelessness there as realization dawns upon him. Steve bursts into wailing tears and crashes back onto the pillows, hands covering his face. His wails trigger some of the sleeping men and they wake up in a shock, disgruntled yells and curses filling the large hall.

"Settle down Soldier," a tired looking nurse hisses, looking more panicked than mad. She gives Billy a pointed glare and goes about on her way to putting the terrified men back to sleep.

Billy sighs and shushes Steve as gently as he can, petting the boy's soft hair until he quiets. He feels a weariness wash over him and crawls into the bed to lay down next to the kid. Steve wastes no time in burying his face in Billy's neck, silent sobs wracking through his frail body. Billy wraps him up in his arms, a scalding hot wave of protectiveness flaring inside his chest.

"It's okay kid, I've got you. I promise," he whispers in Steve's ear, stroking his back in slow, deliberate motions. The pretty brunette cries and cries until he cries himself to sleep, snuggled into the larger soldier, as if he was the only protection he needed.

Billy just holds him through the night.

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geek-gem · 6 years

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30 Day Sonic Challenge Day 4

Okay went into tags not yet but basically I was adding the 30 Day Sonic Challenge tag to these posts like @springs-and-starposts did. So it be easier to keep track of if you guys wanna see these on my blog.

Yet here's one I've been thinking about yesterday quite a bit.

Day 4. Obligatory favorite character question, and why?

Here is what I'm gonna do I'm gonna cheat a bit for this. Their is gonna be a favorite male character and favorite female character. Yet the first character is honestly my favorite.

Including at times I've been thinking of making a top 5 favorite male and female characters basically top 5 for bit. I feel they might be conversational but considering opinions on here it's not really conversational or whatever I'm just trying to sound extreme or whatever.

My favorite character is a character you've seen me talk about, post about him, I've praised him, I really want him in the Sonic movie and I mean the 2019 I should say despite it might cause problems for the movie. Also I mean he was already in the Sonic OVA where me and others still think it's his best version ever since(edit it was snc originally) we want to see something like that again. For me would love to see the movie verison if the 2019 movie is successful be like the OVA version he's my header image and icon as of this time being(unless you see this later) for God sakes I'm hyping him up too much.

It's Metal Sonic.

Who I like to call the Metallic Blur and the other name edit changed game to name I don't say the Metal Son. I mean Sonic has the name the Blue Blur so why the hell not.

To be honest I like Sonic himself as a character despite I understand criticism against him. I also adore Robotnik Eggman as a character and I'm talking about the game versions.

Basically Sonic and Eggman would be in my top 5. Yet Metal Sonic I think even at a early age I liked him. He's seriously a character I feel has quite some dimension to him if written right. The whole idea of a robot who thinks he's the real Sonic and a whole bunch of other crap. He's basically the dark version of Sonic done right what others have said in a way.

Especially weird ideas if you make Sonic's abilities and Eggman's evil ambitions but theirs no dialogue. I guess I like Metal Sonic because he's basically the best of both worlds.

It could also be trying to act grown up and I mean I've had difficult time choosing a favorite character and I didn't wanna seem cliche which sounds stupid as hell.

Metal is basically a badass character built to be superior in Sonic in every way. He's a character I felt would pop up more and is treated with respect more. While not betraying Eggman but still being loyal to him.

Especially I thought my liking towards Metal is something similar to Spider-Man and Venom. Only you don't hear Metal detailing to someone of how he's gonna kill him. I'm referencing that new Venom trailer seriously last year and at times I want a Metal Sonic game but that's so difficult.

I'm sorry for rambling basically Metal is a character I like and he can be written in quite some ways. Especially as a character that should be fear like in a horror film.(I've had some Sonic movie ideas similar to Michael Crichton from Jurassic Park, Terminator, and Predator but that's a different discussion) he's just seriously an awesome character I would like to see used more and expanded upon in canon.

In fact I seem to love the robots in the Sonic franchise like even other robotic Sonic's bent on Sonic's destruction, but also I like Gamma and Omega as well sorry saying too much. But also Orbot and Cubot can be entertaining.

Fine you know what I sometimes feel like saying this to be extreme of how I feel about Metal Sonic.

Sonic is the virgin while Metal Sonic is the chad.....it sounds funny but I seriously respect Sonic as a character despite his faults.

Basically the virgin Sonic and the chad Metal Sonic God that sounds ridiculous and I honestly like Sonic as a character.

Now the female and I wanna share this.

Amy Rose.

You know their were at times I felt like should it be Rouge as my favorite female character. I mean honest Rouge is my favorite and it's also me trying to be grown up liking characters that seem to be intended for older audiences.

But Amy is a character I adore and I'm speaking of the game version. Amy like Sonic is honestly a positive influence. Especially while yes she has a crush on Sonic. Yet she's honestly a kind soul and basically she gives me good feelings or whatever.

I feel other fans can explain it better. She is strong while compassionate and I'm one of the many folks that gets pissed when she gets bastardized as a character only to be a stalker of Sonic and other stuff. Because it seriously annoys me and I'm surprised in stuff like that their isn't a moment where people call on her. I don't give a fuck about that Piko Piko Hammer somebody slap a bastardization and tell her what she's doing is wrong. Basically sorry I'm talking about other versions I'm seriously rambling.

Yet seriously Amy is a character I feel it might be hard to explain, I have other favorite female characters such as Rouge, Elise, and others. I don't wanna spoil my top 5 almost did. But Amy okay she's not perfect is a character I seriously like.

She's kind, while being strong(don't worry Rouge is nice too) doesn't give up on Sonic. But seriously I feel other people can explain this better. I'm just not trying to sound like a bias douchebag.

Tags done and sorry if that became long I seriously wanted to talk about this and explain in detail.

Edit I forgot to mention my two favorites first appeared in Sonic CD yes theirs the manga but we're talking about the canon games whatever. But yeah Sonic CD to me and it's basically their first official first appearance.

#sonic the hedgehog #30 day sonic challenge #metal sonic #amy rose

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