Artist, writer, and sometimes human... **Find my AO3 ** https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthBreezy **Find my Art store ** https://www.redbubble.com/people/rebelpencils?asc=u
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Ozzy's final act was to raise $190 million for Cure Parkinson's, Birmingham Children's Hospital, & Acorn Children's Hospice. It would seem that he, indeed, did unto the least of these. Have you? - AltSpaceForce on Bluesky
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I had one of their sandwiches some 20 years ago at an airport layover, before I found out about their business practices, and where their (and subsequently my) money goes, so needless to say I haven't patronized them since. HOWEVER, from the rare diamond in a trash pile, sometimes there shines a light... https://www.snopes.com/news/2016/06/14/chick-fil-a-orlando-shooting/

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My cane has a cobra head - it's actually scary heavy but has sparked more conversations than anything I've ever owned.
My scooter has a 'license plate' that reads 'NAITRUC' - IYKYK...
also it helps me walk or whatever
[ID: a digitally drawn two-panel comic. / Image 1: Text reads: “How I expected using a cane would feel:” Panel depicts a miserable person in tattered clothes, hunched over a cane and shaking as she walks. / Image 2: Text reads: “How it actually feels:” Panel depicts the same person, now standing tall and wearing flowing wizard robes and a long white beard. Her cane is at her side, glowing with magic, and she looks confident and powerful. /End ID]
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Thanks to 'Museums for All'
I took 'Mary' the mobility scooter and my roommate to the 'Museum of Pop Culture'.* Had an absolutely amazing day out - spent close to two plus hours wandering around - something that would have been impossible without the scooter. My only grumble is apparently, I have to really assert that accessible space is for those of us who NEED it. I know I pissed off a couple people on the train for blocking the exit, but hey, Tourist Terry and her bags are in the wheelchair space. Who cares about the BRIGHT BLUE SIGNAGE RIGHT ABOUT THE SEAT? Oh well - So anyway, enjoy a few photos from today, especially the Crowley coded suit!







The Entrance fee would have been over 74$ for the two of us... Thanks to the Museums for all, it was FREE...
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My favorite grocery store cashier died a few months ago. I know this probably sounds like a bizarre thing to be sad about. Her name was Judith and I only saw her once or twice a week, and only while I was paying for groceries. But even now, months later, I think of her when I'm at the grocery store. She used to save the ends of receipt paper rolls when they only had a foot or two left on them and give them to me, which I never asked her to do, but the first time she did it she held one out to me and said "you look like someone who would make a craft out of this," and I laughed because she was right. I do save them to put in geocaches and letterboxes. Our small talk was about the weather and the weekend and aren't those cookies good? They're so expensive though. But it's worth it.
I'm just saying. If you ever sit around wondering whether you'd be missed if you disappeared off the face of the earth, the answer is probably yes, very much, and probably by more people than you think.
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The person I bought my scooter from...
Was and still is, very nice, if not just a bit... off.
She's had problems with the new scooter she purchased since day one, and has been back and forth with the company for over a month (IE past the Big South American River's) return date.
She often asks if I've taken Mary out, and how the new battery is holding up, and how glad she is that I bought it for what she paid for it. We haven't got there YET, but I'm sure you can see what's coming...
Today she dropped the biggest hint yet saying ''I wish I hadn't sold it before I got my new one...''
Sorry... IF I were to let go of Mary, It sure as shooting it wouldn't be 'for what I paid for it' - even if I included the new battery. I've accessorized and personalized, and while some of them can be removed, and some are supplies I had on hand, but my time and talent also have value. I am kind and empathetic, almost to a fault, is but sometimes people need a reminder that 'NO' is a complete sentence...
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Because it's sweeter than choc...
gold rush
Soho, 1800.
“Did they say why?” said Crowley.
“Change of plans,” Aziraphale replied around a mouthful of chocolate. “I’m apparently needed here, in the bookshop. Battling the, ah.” He swallowed, looking away. “The forces of evil, and what have you.”
“Hungry work,” Crowley said solemnly, offering up the chocolate tin again.
Aziraphale feigned indecision for only a moment, practically wiggling as he leaned in to inspect the array of sweet morsels. “I really shouldn’t,” he said, selecting one from the middle. Crowley watched from behind the relative safety of his glasses, unblinking, as the angel took a bite.
“Mm.” Aziraphale tipped his head back, eyes fluttering half-shut. “Oh, that’s divine. I could eat every last one of those, right here.”
Crowley made a mental note to thank his friends at Debauve & Gallais for their suggestion to present the sweets in alluring little rows. “Well, don’t stand on ceremony,” he said, giving the tin a shake. “Lots to celebrate. It’s not every day you dodge a promotion at work.”
“They would’ve given me Sandalphon’s old office, I’m sure of it,” Aziraphale muttered darkly, and he plucked another chocolate from the tin with even less hesitation than before.
Crowley sat back and let himself stare. Sugar and cocoa gave way between Aziraphale’s teeth; his tongue flashed pink, licking any remnants clean away.
So he’d indulged a bit of skullduggery. Pulled a few demonic strings. What was the alternative? Crawling back to his lodgings, sleeping off the reality of the situation for the next six months or so, waking up to find an angel who wasn’t Aziraphale installed here instead? They'd gone years without crossing paths before, decades. Longer, even. Somewhere in there, Crowley had gotten a bit too comfortable. Upper management checking in from time to time was one thing; being whisked Upstairs or Down with nothing but a ‘You’re being promoted, indefinitely!’ for warning was another box of snuff entirely.
“You’re really doing it, then,” Crowley said, halfway between a question and a statement of pure fact. Aziraphale was here; Aziraphale was staying. “Selling your books to the humans.”
Aziraphale drew himself up slightly. “Certainly.” There was a brief pause. “Or at the very least, letting them look at the books.”
“Ah.”
“Oh, don’t you start.”
Crowley felt the stirrings of a smile tug at his lips. “I’m all for it, angel. People wanting what they can’t have? Coveting? You’ll be doing my job for me.”
“Yes, well—” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked upward. “The shop isn’t officially open yet, so if you could sheath your fangs until then, it would be much appreciated.”
“Sorry, sheath my—”
“And besides,” Aziraphale plowed on, “I still haven’t decided on a color for the backroom. I was rather hoping I might get your opinion on the matter, if you can spare a moment from delighting in the prospect of tempting my future patrons down a path of sin.”
Crowley made a show of pondering this. “No promises, but I’ll give it an honest go.”
“Good,” Aziraphale said, all too proud of himself, and Crowley’s insides did something vaguely acrobatic in response. Keep him here. Keep him looking at you like that. An old mantra, the only one he lived by these days.
“What do you think of yellow?” said Aziraphale. “For the walls?”
“Yellow,” Crowley echoed, nose wrinkling. “No, it’s fine,” he amended as Aziraphale gave a weary sigh. “Brings to mind all things pestilent and diseased, but what bookshop doesn’t?”
“Horrid serpent. I should’ve known you’d be of no help.”
“And yet you asked anyway,” Crowley sing-songed.
“Yellow,” Aziraphale said, ignoring this, “is a perfectly lovely color. Cheerful, warm.” He surveyed the room, face softening as he did so. “All the things a home should be.”
Home. Not Heaven, but here, the backroom of an unfinished bookshop, this dusty, dirty sphere of a planet, a speck in the grand cosmic backdrop. The perfect absurdity of it struck Crowley between the ribs.
He played it off with a shrug. “On your head, then.”
“You’ll come around,” said Aziraphale. His lips pursed, a not-quite smile. The pressure in Crowley’s chest swelled to a degree that would have warranted a trip to St. Bart’s, were he human. “You always do. And in the meantime—” With a small flourish, a sleek bottle of something red and expensive-looking appeared alongside the chocolate tin. “You might take those glasses off and stay awhile.”
“Twist my wing, why don't you,” said Crowley, and did.
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New batteries, installed and charging thanks to the 'Repair Cafe' courtesy of the local Tool Library, Can you spot the Crowley Influences?
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Mobility Scooter Level Up
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I recently acquired a mobility scooter, and have to make it fun for ME...

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Oh gods, I feel this in my BONES. I am a lifelong registered Democrat. I attended Bernie Rallies, but when Hillary got the nom, she got my vote. I cried when Barack got elected, and when Joe stepped down. I gave money to Kamalla's campaign, even when I really couldn't because I understood the stakes. Now, I delete without a second thought these 'poll' e-mails that are nothing but cash grabs. I've e-mailed my supposed Reps (only Patty Murray at least seems to give a damn). I'm tired and ANGRY at the bullshit e-mails that remind me how e that Orange Shit Bag is running roughshod over the country, and cackling all the way to the bank especially because I haven't sent in my 20$ donation. I'll still 'vote blue'/Democrat in the bigger elections because I know they are currently the only feasible alternative to the Fascist (It's a two party system and we're just the props) bt I sure as hell am NOT happy about it...
fuck these Vichy fucks.
It's entirely unsurprising that Bill Clinton endorsed his fellow sexual predator Andrew Cuomo. It's entirely unsurprising that the Democratic Party bosses are doing everything they can to rehabilitate Cuomo at the expense of a genuinely progressive candidate who actually gives a shit about people.
That doesn't make it any less disgusting, and it's one of the many reasons why I am absolutely done giving any money, or doing any campaigning, for this out of touch, feckless, garbage party.
Democrats as a party at like 36 points LESS popular than fucking Fascists who are kidnapping innocent people and terrorizing entire cities. Every fucking day they are handed a dozen opportunities to show us they believe the "AMERICA IS DOOMED IF YOU DONT SEND ME 27 DOLLARS" emails they spam us with every goddamn day, and every fucking day the useless, weak, pathetic "leadership" in the party wrings its hands and mulls writing a letter. Then they send us another e-mail.
America is under attack from a rogue president and his band of criminal thugs, and the one party that has the numbers and resources to do something about it is telling us to clap harder for their pointless speeches.
So, yeah, of COURSE those same "leaders" are going to prop up a man who is a serial sexual abuser, liar, and scumbag.
Democratic "leadership" are a bunch of Vichy Quislings who can't possibly be this stupid; this has to be a choice.
That's why the party is underwater. That's why the party is less popular than motherfucking FASCISTS.
I will vote against fascists, because that's my duty as an American. But I'm done financially supporting a useless party that can't fucking shoot straight and spends more energy attacking and destroying progressives and progressive policies than they do defending Democracy.
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Oh... Saying the quiet part out loud that I really needed to see this...

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Two Rides. One Driver.
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So it's been a month...
I've been stomped all over, humiliated, lied to - basically a Tri-Fucked-A of endless crap. Until today...
After several days of inquiries, and crossed fingers, and countless offers of 'If you want me to take two hours of transit to meet you in a place that works for you' (and sincerely meaning it) the seller not only chose me over another buyer, but offered to meet me closer to my home! Of course I offered a little more cash (because of course I would) and it STILL cost me less than a single day's rental for Salt Lake Comic Con. 'Mary' is getting a Bentley key fob, a NIATRUC 'license plate' and a few other bits to make her truly mine...

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