#Marchin on
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Florence + The Machine - Free// Markus Zusak - The Book Thief// One Republic - Marchin On// Lemony Snicket - The Beatrice Letters// John Green - Looking For Alaska// Paramore - 26
#looking for alaska#Paramore#26#After laughter#markus zusak#The book thief#John Green#florence + the machine#Free#Lemony snicket#The Beatrice letters#Lyrics#Book quotes#Carry on#Marchin on#One Republic#Textcore
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take what the water gave me
alhaitham x cyno
#haino#cytham#cyhaino#alhaitham#cyno#alhaitham x cyno#genshin#genshin impact#my art#shuuenkaart#genshin fanart#summertime babyyyy#i guess#i was listening to florence and the marchines 'what the water gave me'#not most optimistic song#but alas#some out of context quoetes slap
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WHY AREN'T YOU PLAYING YOUR DAMN INSTRUMENT YOU LIL SHIT?
#for the tsp March collab! :)#WHY WEREN'T YOU AT MARCHIN PRACTICE /ref#tspud#tsp ultra deluxe#art#tsp#tsp narrator#the stanley parable#tsp fanart#the stanley parable fanart#tsp art#tspud art#the stanley parable narrator#tsp the narrator#the narrator tsp#narrator tsp#the narrator fanart#tspud narrator#tspud fanart
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With over 60K members, the workers of the Service Employees International Union Local 1021 in NorCal recently voted to pass a resolution condemning the Israeli genocide in Gaza and promising to push reps further for a ceasefire.
#This may seem flaccid to some but keep in mind when working in an org and esp such a large one it is very important to keep documentation#especially of big votes like this. votes that can be used to justify further action.#very nice that with 60K folks they did not fall to the 'condemn hamas' bullshit#also inb4 'when will they get out in the streets then' check out who's marchin in that first photo. more than most.
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Title: I'm Marchin' on to the Beat I Drum
Fandom: 9-1-1
Rating: Teen Audiences and Up
Pairings/Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Christopher Diaz, Eddie Diaz
Summary: Buck wants to be the one to tell Christopher about his new relationship.
Timeline: post 7x04
Word Count: 1,235
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Reamworks, Brad Falchuk Teley-Vision, Ryan Murphy Television, and 20th Century Fox Television.
Betas: Thank you to @medieshanachiefor looking this over for me.
Author's Note 1: This came to me while on the acupuncture table today. Hello muse! I've missed you.
Author's Note 2: Title from This is Me from The Greatest Showman
Read on AO3
Buck and Tommy stood on the Diaz doorstep after having just rung the doorbell. He didn't want to use his key because he had Tommy with him and that might be weird letting them both into Eddie's house.
"You're sure you're okay with me telling him?" Buck asked nervously, not for the first time.
Tommy took Buck's hand and squeezed it once, firmly. "He's practically your kid, it should come from you."
Buck's heart sped up briefly. How'd he get so lucky as to find a man who understood his relationship with Christopher so easily and wasn't threatened by it?
Before he could thank Tommy, again, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Eddie. "You're here. Come on in."
He stood back to let the other men in before closing the door behind them.
"In the kitchen?" Tommy asked, holding up a 12-pack of beer.
"I've got it," Eddie said, taking the case from Tommy. "Go ahead and get settled. Tip off in five."
"Chris in his room?" Buck asked Eddie's retreating back.
"You know it," Eddie confirmed.
Tommy kissed Buck's cheek. "Good luck."
"Thanks. I'll need it," he replied.
As Tommy headed left for the living room couch, Buck turned right and knocked on Christopher's open door. Christopher looked up from his homework and grinned.
"Hi, Buck," he exclaimed. "Did I hear Tommy, too?"
"You did," Buck said. "He's out there with your dad. They're gonna watch the basketball game."
"You don't want to watch?" Christopher asked.
"Not especially. Basketball's not really my thing," Buck said.
"You don't need to tell me that," Christopher said. "I saw my dad after that game you joined a couple weeks ago."
Buck brought his hand up to his chest and staggered back dramatically. "Well, you don't pull your punches."
Christopher laughed at his antics. Then he sobered, taking in Buck's once again nervous expression.
He cocked his head to the side, sighed, and asked, "What do you want to talk to me about?"
Buck fully entered the room and moved to sit on Christopher's bed. "That obvious, huh?"
"Uh huh," Christopher nodded, turning in his chair to face him.
"You like Tommy, right?" Buck asked.
"Not as much as you, if that's what you're worried about," Christopher said, side-eyeing Buck.
Buck laughed. "That's good to know, but not what I meant."
"I mean, yeah, he's a cool guy. My dad has been a lot happier since they started doing all these things he hasn't done in a long time."
"Tommy and I have been spending a lot of time together, too," Buck said. "In fact, he and I are dating."
Christopher narrowed his eyes at Buck. "Like… kissing?"
"What do you know about kissing? Have you been kissing anyone?" Buck asked, startled by the direct question.
"Oh, my god, Buck! No!" Christopher practically shouted. "Ew."
"Just making sure," Buck said, laughing. "But, uh, yeah. Yes. There is kissing. Are you okay with that?"
Christopher shrugged. "Kissing is gross, but if you like it, then…whatever."
"Do you have any questions about me kissing another man?" Buck asked.
Christopher rolled his eyes in that way that only teenagers can. "I know all about people being gay, or bi, or pan. Dad and I talked about that when I was just a kid." He scrutinized Buck's face. "Which are you?"
"I'm going with bi," Buck said, proudly. Christopher nodded his head as if in agreement. "Do you have any other questions?"
"Does this mean you or Tommy are going to start kissing my dad? Because you're not supposed to kiss more than one person at a time. You told me that."
"I don't think I said anything about you and kissing, but you're right, you should only date one person at a time, unless everyone agrees it's okay. And that is a topic for another time."
"So are you?"
"No, because Tommy and I are dating each other and only want to kiss each other. Besides, your dad is dating Marisol."
"I don't think he is, anymore, but that makes sense."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because he's happier with you and Tommy than I've ever seen him be with someone he's dating," Christopher observed.
"Well, if your dad likes men, that's something he needs to figure out and reveal on his own. Just like I didn't know I wanted to kiss a man until Tommy kissed me."
"And you liked it?"
"I really liked it," Buck said, grinning.
"Then good for you," Christopher concluded. "I'm glad you're happy, Buck."
"Thanks, Christopher," Buck said.
"Can I get back to my homework now? Dad said I can't play games with my friends online until it's done."
"Have at it," Buck said, getting up. "Thanks for listening."
Christopher just waved him off.
~~*~~
After the game got started, Eddie nervously glanced back towards Christopher's room.
"How do you think it's going in there?" he asked.
"I'm sure it's fine," Tommy said. "You seem almost as nervous as Buck."
"I just know how important this is for Buck. How important you are to him," Eddie said. Granted, it had taken him a minute to get used to the idea when Buck came out to him last week, but Buck was his best friend and he would support him no matter what.
"You've raised a good kid. I'm sure Christopher will understand."
As if on cue, they heard Christopher practically shout, "Oh, my god, Buck! No! Ew."
Both Eddie and Tommy were on their feet instantly, but when they heard Buck's laughter, they sat back down.
"I'm sure it was nothing," Eddie said, his voice not very convincing.
"That could have been about anything," Tommy said, doubtfully.
They watched the game in silence, drinking their beers, ears strained to try to hear more of the conversation in the other room.
~~*~~
Buck dropped into the open space on the couch between Eddie and Tommy and dramatically dropped his head on Tommy's shoulder.
"Went that well?" Tommy asked, bringing his arm up around Buck's shoulders and carding his fingers through Buck's hair.
"It actually went better than I thought," Buck admitted.
"What was he shouting about?" Eddie asked. "He had us worried."
"Oh, that." Buck giggled. "I asked him if he was kissing anyone after saying that Tommy and I kiss. You heard his answer to that question."
Eddie slumped back on the couch with relief. "Gracias a dios," he sighed. "I am not ready to think about him kissing anyone."
Buck thought about mentioning that Christopher asked if Eddie would be kissing himself or Tommy anytime soon, but if his observations of his dad were right and Eddie was more like him than he thought, that was for him to figure out in his own time. Why complicate matters when he was happy with Tommy?
"I'm gonna need a beer if you're going to make me watch basketball," Buck said, slapping his thighs as he stood. "You guys good?"
"I could take another," Eddie said.
"Me too," Tommy agreed, holding up his nearly empty bottle.
"Three beers coming right up," Buck said. He quickly retrieved them from the kitchen before settling back on the couch, leaning against Tommy, who curled his arm around Buck as soon as he was settled.
Buck was with two of his favorite men in the world, his kid just down the hall, and he couldn't be happier.
The End
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March of the Machine Booster Box Art by Billy Christian
#Magic the Gathering#MtG#March of the Marchine#Booster Box Art#Key Art#Thalia#Teferi#Theros#Zendikar#Kamigawa#Phyrexia#Elesh Norn#Fantasy#Art#Billy Christian
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Posting this on the request of @legavo , I could not stop thinking about this meme and how it was them <3
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Over.
I wrote this instead of doing my actual work I hope you enjoy
cw: broken bones, blood, suffering and misery, little bit of medical whump
The button was only fifteen feet away.
It wasn’t that far. Fifteen feet. Five yards. It was the distance across a room. Quickly, easily walkable.
But Alex couldn’t walk. Not with the blood pooling underneath her shin, and certainly not with the bone protruding from her skin.
Behind her, she could hear the battle raging. There were wild blasts of energy and shouting and metal on metal. No one else had made it this far. It had to be her.
The bruised skin on her shoulder screamed as she reached out her arm and planted it on the floor. She forced herself to keep breathing as she pulled herself forward, inching closer to her goal.
All she wanted to do was stop. To stop ghting the darkness that kept narrowing her vision and let herself be still. She wanted, more than anything, to be done. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t and she hated it and there was nothing she could do about it.
Nothing but hit that fucking button.
She could feel her blood slicking the floor beneath her, making it easier for her to drag. herself along. Every time she moved, bright stars danced across her vision. Her ribs were on fire, and having them pressed against the ground wasn’t helping.
Why couldn’t it be over yet?
Ignoring the blood running down her face, she continued on. She could taste it in her mouth and feel it running down the back of her throat. Every couple seconds, she had to stop and spit it out.
When the tears started to prick at her eyes, she didn’t even try to stop them. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see, and she could afford to waste the energy it took to hold them back.
The control panel was less then two feet away now, a big red button tantalizing close.
It was there when she realized that she might not even be able to reach it. Not from the floor.
She had to try.
After a long, deep breath, she pushed herself to kneeling, keeping her injured leg as straight and as still as she could. The position was shaky and unstable, but it would do.
Carefully, she rose up, bracing one arm against the wall and reaching for the button with the other. Standing had caused the pain to foare and vision to narrow.
As she dumbly slapped her hand against the control panel, hoping she’d hit it, hit something useful, his the darkness finally closed in.
Her body went slack, and she collapsed onto the floor in a bruised, bloodied, broken heap.
***
Someone was touching her.
Everything else was hazy and strange, but that part was obvious.
Why was someone touching her?
She was supposed to be alone.
“You with me, Alex?”
Oh. Yeah.
Slowly she pulled her eyes open, groaning.
Joseph’s face was looming over her.
“Good, good.”
She took a moment to take stock of her situation. From the ceiling tiles, she could tell that she was still in whoever-they-were-fighting’s base. Joseph was here, as well as the rest of the team, so she must’ve won.
She’d hit the shut off switch in time.
Nobody had died.
The darkness tempted her again. It was over. She didn’t have to be here anymore.
“Woah, stay with me, yeah?”
Joseph almost sounded scarred. It was unnerving. She’d have to stay, then.
A chill ran through her, jarring her wounds.
“ ‘m cold.”
“Workin’ on that, kid.”
There was the sound of plastic wrap being torn open, and a shiny space blanket covered her body.
“Better?”
“Hurts.”
“You’re in luck ‘cause that’s next on the list.”
His hands were busy, but she couldn’t quite see what they were doing. He looked nervous again.
“ ‘m sorry.”
She could feel him fiddling with the IV in her arm.
“It’s okay. You’re doing great.”
He smiled at her. It was almost believable.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her.
“Didn’t mean t get ‘urt.”
Joseph scooted down towards her leg.
“I know, kid. I’m not angry, Alex. I promise.”
He paused, a focused look crossing his face.
“I need to splint your leg. Fair warning, it’s gonna suck.”
She braced herself for the coming onslaught.
There was nothing she could do to stop the scream breaking free from her lips.
The darkness beckoned again, and she didn’t fight it.
It hurt. Everything hurt. Joseph and his “stay awake for me” could go to hell.
***
When Alex woke again, it was obviously in a hospital.
The scratchy sheets, antiseptic smell, bright lights and incessant beeping all tell a pretty simple story.
A hospital. Duh.
She let herself slump back onto the mattress of questionable quality.
It was over.
Finally.
Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch
#worlds babbles#whump#broken bones#blood#pain tw#injury whump#whump writing#alexoc#joseph oc#alex we love you#Joseph’s marchin’ his paws
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*Listens to the Mechanisms for the first time in over 2 years*
Still have that shit memorized >:3
#WHEN THE RED ROSE IT COMES A MARCHING THEN WE WILL FIGHT WE WILL FIGHT FIGHT FOR OUR BOY JACK WHEN THE RED ROOOOSE IT COMES A MARCHIN#SPIT IN THE FACE OF HISTORY#the mechanisms
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F-3Y‘S brain basically got partially wiped, so how free-will do they still have? I.e how much of them is a pure war machine?
Oh, I’m all me! Well- the me that… exists now. I don’t remember how much of me is left over from when I was human, but it’s not like I got reprogrammed or brainwashed or nothin’- honestly, I just remember being… freaked out by the whole process of my body becoming this, and some corporate goons yammering on about “legally binding contracts I signed” and stuff. The corp did some nasty stuff in making us, but I guess the credit I can give them is this- they didn’t brainwash or… reprogram… anyone to do it. Which seems… dumb of them, but I’m grateful for it…
#asks#c:F-3Y#expecting legalese to make a person accept that they’re a living war marchine#very silicon valley eh?
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Fast Hunter
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Are we really supposed to believe that a skrull would pretend there legs are not working so close to death?
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@fenixburned gets a thing for haymitch ♡
did it make her a terrible person, to feel so grateful that peeta had volunteered and taken away the fate of the arena from haymitch? selfish, likely, but yet it couldn't be found in her to feel guilty for the thought. they'd already talked strategies, over the phone, and laid out rudimentary plans to fight as well as to protect katniss. the goal had not changed, simply the participants.
it was the first time since the phone call. a private moment in this lion's den of a city, with eyes on all of them. up until now, it had been a charade of well-crafted facades and walls put up, repelling capitol folk and avoiding drawing attention to what they hid so meticulously behind the scenes.
hands reached up to hold his face, ever gentle as thumbs stroked his cheeks. how she'd ached for and yet dreaded this moment, unable to hide the pained look in her eyes. rhea had volunteered, all on her own, with no prior agreements making her do so. she knew, like everyone knew, that katniss everdeen would be the only option for district 12. and for haymitch, she'd voluntarily walk straight into hell a second time to help protect another precious to him. love was like that. their love was like that.
" hi. " a weak greeting, with the faintest of smiles. " we'll get through this. i'm tough, aren't i? i'll look after the kids for you, it'll be alright. " it wasn't a lie if one didn't know whether they spoke the truth or not. still felt like one, any reassurance did in the face of the games' monstrosities. yet she could not help but want to try put him at ease.
#fenixburned#i got into my feels hard 😭#waiting on that morning sun ; soldier keep on marchin' on ( v. catching fire )
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@noctiilvcent
When a scream ripped through the city, he felt his feathers instinctively ruffle, stopping in his tracks and glancing back, a rare moment of hesitation. He’d like to say that it was the unexpectedness of it, but the sound - womanly yet bestial - hit some primal nerve even his cool composure couldn’t quite ignore.
Spy noticed it too, giving him a brief side-eye as she shifted her weight uneasily, silence falling between them for several beats as they stared down the empty half-dark corridor, lights occasionally flickering as the metal monolith descended from the sky.
Another few beats of silence, before Spy finally broke it with a notably unsure, “What... was that?”
He wasn’t sure himself, but he had a guess. The answer never came though, turning on his heel to continue the same way he had already been headed.
“Let’s keep moving.”
There was no protest at all from her, falling into swift step behind him. Eventually they came to what he was looking for, a hatch in one of the maintenance rooms in the lower levels. By the look of it, rarely used or opened, which led only to a narrow overhang walkway and a network of thick pipes that hugged the shadowed upper corners and forced Alekt to fold his wings in close.
Neither of them had personally been down here, a vast chamber with spires of proud ice rising up towards the ceiling, and an impossibly tall door at the end.
“Whoa...” Spy breathed under her breath. “Thought this place would be all moving parts and boilers or some such. This doesn’t even begin to look like any sort of Dust power core.”
She noticed Alekt’s concentrated silence as they stopped and crouched on the platform, following his gaze towards two figures below - one, a man dressed in white, the other a small woman dressed in black and holding something in her hand. It looked like... a staff?
“That’s the General,” Spy realized in a whisper, furrowing her brows. When Alekt didn’t immediately move, she glanced at him in question. “Should we--”
“Wait.” He cautioned. Not a moment more, and a black cloud, moving with unnatural purpose, came pouring down the frame of the diagonal elevator that led down into the chamber, the woman-in-black below speaking to it, until it materialized into yet another woman.
Or at least... something that resembled a woman. Tall, skin bright white and ghastly. He hadn’t ever seen her in person, but he was almost certain this was the Grimm witch that Ironwood feared. Salem. The one that the other woman - Cinder Fall, was it? - bowed to and presented the staff and some other item he couldn’t quite identify.
They stayed where they were and waited until Salem and Cinder left, not daring to risk a confrontation right now, before climbing over the platforms, Alekt hooking an arm around Spy’s waist as he got ready to spread his wings.
“Let’s go.”
Its a little bit awkward descending, but before long, both of them land with several quick steps towards the General as momentum carries them forward. There’s not a lot of word about coordination, both already moving to either side to pull Ironwood towards his feet without it needing to be said, an arm slung over either of their shoulders.
He’s sure it’ll be quite the surprise for Ironwood, given both the evacuation and that this area had been off-limits even to them, but he doubted he’d get an earful about where he was or wasn’t allowed to be given the circumstances.
Even if he did, he was sure it’d be even more of a shock to their enemies later that Ironwood was alive, which was a result he was willing to see through.
“Let’s get you out of here, General.”
#t: Harder They Fall#noctiilvcent#RWBY verse#ic#Soldier Keep On Marchin' On Head Down Til The Work Is Done || James
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Soft Machine — The Dutch Lesson (Cuneiform)
The Dutch Lesson by Soft Machine
Cuneiform has done it again! A more multifaceted and satisfying series of Soft Machine archival recordings is not to be found anywhere, and just when it might seem to be over, Steve Feigenbaum adds another entry into an already large catalog. The Cuneiform releases include concerts, studio and demo recordings, and while there are too many to mention, the 1967 Middle Earth Masters provides one unparalleled glimpse into early Softs as they blaze through a club set caught in surprisingly good sound. The same is true with this 1973 Rotterdam concert, and even before diving into the music, a word of praise is in order for the restoration wizardry of Ian Beabout. His recent work on Baker’s Dozen, the Muffins’ box set also on Cuneiform, set the bar very high, and The Dutch Lesson does not disappoint. The front-row taping is both vivid and extremely powerful, not to mention dynamically varied, and Beabout squeezed every last sonic detail out of it.
Those details are especially important at points of transition, as when the opening “Stanley Stamps Gibbon Album” leads first to “Between” and then into “The Soft Weed Factor.” The quartet lineup, so similar to that on the sixth album, consists of drummer John Marshall, keyboardist Mike Ratledge, winds and keys man Karl Jenkins and bassist Roy Babbington replacing Hugh Hopper. To hear the contrast between the ever-in-sync Marshall and Babbington-driven opener and the intricate and delicate “Between” is to behold a thing of rare and gentle beauty. Ratledge’s organ sound becomes more and more rounded, its distortion slowly fading into polyrhythms of delayed keyboard repetitions and luminescent percussion. Just when it seems that the sound is going to disappear altogether, so near to silence has it strayed, “Factor’s bluesy trudge emerges with perfect timing. It builds, with crushing inexorability, until Marshall and Babbington slam the groove home at 2:15. They kick into similar overdrive on a particularly maniacal rendering of “37 ½” that gives Jenkins a chance to stretch way out on what sounds like oboe. His serpentine solo eventually enters multi-phonic mode, and a more illustrative example of his improvisational chops would be difficult to imagine.
Aymeric Leroy’s notes set the stage and fill in the background, as they always do. He posits, insightfully, that the seventh album’s largely overdubbed textures probably account for the fact that only one track from it, “Down the Road,” appears in this October 1973 concert. What we do hear, an even more tantalizing proposition, is an early version of the now-iconic “Hazard Profile,” emerging headlong, with volcanic import, from “Chloe and the Pirates.” Dig the keyboard arpeggiations as Marshall’s opening roll clears a space for the track’s initial burst of groove-laden activity an astonishing 1:43 in! Yes, the drums are loud throughout, and that’s what Marshall sounds like in performance. He’s one of the most underappreciated drummers still on the scene, every power-packed roll and thud tempered by ornaments of exquisite precision and delivered with unerring timing. Again, the glacial dynamic descent leading into the following improvisation is made all the more poignant by the preceding quarter-hour of mind-stomping riff and distorto-slam.
If all you’ve heard are the album versions of these tracks, this concert will offer up a new perspective, one that hits with immediate viscerality. If the quintet lineup with Alan Holdsworth, added very soon after this concert, raised the stakes, the keys and winds so prominent in this relatively short-lived band certainly makes The Dutch Lesson well worth investigating, but there’s so much more to enjoy! We experience a band in transition as exciting as any connecting their propulsive live sets, but when has Soft Machine been anything other?
Marc Medwin
#soft marchine#the dutch lesson#cuneiform#marc medwin#albumreview#dusted magazine#prog#rotterdam#1973
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Louis Lozowick - Machine Ornament No. 2 (1927)
#Louis Lozowick#Machine Ornament No. 2#1927#20s#20s art#marchine aesthetic#The Palace of Green Porcelain#De Young Museum#San Francisco#San Francisco Art#San Francisco psychogeography#futurist art
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