#I expect better of government

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[disgruntled-screaming]

How the hell did Pidge get into the Galaxy Garrison? Did the admissions office not check anything? No medical records, nothing? Oh my god the Galaxy Garrison has the level of security of a damn walnut.

[siveine]

i think im so nervous about finishing my contract because i wont know what to do with myself afterwards. like, sure theyve forgotten about me and nearly abandoned me, and im quite literally being used then thrown away, but after i get my discharge papers im going to be without purpose again and i dont know if i can do it a second time

[numetalkids]

*inhales*.....................DEEP SIGH

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I have this tea cup I made in highschool (it’s really cute and was designed more like those Japanese ones without a handle than it was those fancy English style with even more elements to them) but I never actually asked if the glaze we used was food safe (we all used the same glaze on those cups specifically because the teacher glazed those ones in particular and I don’t remember checking. I glazed and painted every other project but only one of them was something you would use for food and that thing broke a few years ago and was honestly more decorative) and this has haunted me ever since. It’s a super cute cup and I adore it, but I have no idea if I can use it for its intended purpose and while I could buy a lead testing kit I’m not sure how I would check for anything else that might have been in that glaze. I know the color used but not the brand, so that’s not really a help either. The teacher I had left the district after that year because our school district paid art teachers a shit wage and we rotated through them like elementary school kids needing new shoes every year. I’m not entirely sure how I would contact her, but even if I did track her down (something not entirely impossible from what I know about her life outside of teaching us for a year, I would feel slightly weird about it though, even though she was my favorite art teacher) but I highly doubt she would remember something like the glaze she used on one project her students made at a school she taught at for one year. I’m not sure what other testing kits I would need besides lead to confidently say it’s safe enough for my personal use, and it’s annoyed me for several years now.

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

the ideological underpinnings of reacher are so so deeply hideous and i don't know if i can keep overlooking them because i like reacher as a character :/

[readingloveswounds]

so i go by sophia professionally and truly i don't really mind what people use when speaking to me. HOWEVER. when someone i don't know uses sophie when i have either corresponded as sophia or sent them documents w sophia on them, i do not love it when they then put sophie in writing. that's not my name. we don't know each other like that. you gotta see me in person to have that permission.

[humandisastersquad]

[sixofravens-reads]

Biting the Sun was definitely the right choice to read right now. I've been despairing lately over how AI are going to eventually take over my industry and my entire professional life will have been for naught and all my employable skills will become useless, so reading about a world where one person is depressed by the endless pointless "delights" of a "utopia" where humans not only aren't needed to work but aren't capable of much work because there's always a robot or a computer that does it better, and is seeking a meaningful existence where they are allowed to contribute to society, is really hitting home.

[un-pearable]

i get normal amounts of heated about badly written multiple choice questions

[mouthmoodz]

i know it's not good to just give into despair but idk if "climate scientists aren't that pessimistic about the future" is a convincing argument. like, i don't have info on the average political alignment of climate scientists but i'd guess a lot of them are, regardless of their expertise on the scientific dimension of the issue, still libs who think we can mitigate the climate crisis by voting really hard about it

[david-watts]

today I’m going to be angry about past decisions

[ace-with--a-mace]

i should be allowed to kill people with my bare fucking teeth

[narcissusneverknewme]

the Earth will never be healed again until China starts producing stuff with a sufficient amount of genderfuckery again. nearly all of the most compelling stuff China has ever produced has featured a significant amount of genderfuckery. that and the gay shit. send X or whatever you fools say now

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

Turns out getting the election results at a Janelle Monáe concert was exactly what I needed after spending the entire weekend feeling like absolute garbage because of the threat of fascism.

Now hopefully my brain can focus on something else and I can finally answer those asks from friday. Sorry for the delay, I was feeling so full of despair and dread, even writing porn couldn't distract me from it.

(Note for everyone who asked for 🐙: this wip is a mess and I don't know where I'm going with it so it might take a bit longer, but it's coming, I promise!)

[gorillaxyz]

nixon was so horrible ohbmy god