#and i get there are people who cannot afford to be burnt out on it

[garbageconnoisseur]

Urgent - Homeless LGBT couple needs help!

Hello everyone.

I'm sure you all have heard this before but we are in dire need of some help right now. Some unforeseen event has just undermined our effort to look for stability outside the city we spent our last 3 years homeless in. After making it out and looking for work/housing these past 4 months, we are now being forced to travel back or risk losing our biggest life line (our car) along with several minor issues we've been trying to work around (to no avail). As before, we desperately need help affording a motel room to stay in both before and after we leave, as well as food, medicine, and important bills we need paid to survive (Due to ongoing need, I will continue sharing this post for help for a few weeks after before updating our situation with a new on).

I am burnt out, mentally and physically and every day is nothing but pain and stress lately. We have been homeless for over 3 years and I lost my job in September so now we have nothing besides our car, and a few belongings we can fit in it. We are about to face another incredibly long drive and it has to be soon if we want to avoid our car being taken from us when we need it most. We are leaving February 15th and before that we need to get funding for an oil change, gas, food, and shelter, as well as more funds for a place to stay when we arrive in the city and for our car insurance which is also incredibly important for us right now. Any help is appreciated. I cannot do this alone and, honestly, I believe this is going to be our very last chance at trying to be okay. If my body doesn't give out from being constantly sick, my mental health might do the job.

Venmo: @garbageconnoisseur

CashApp: $garbageconnoisseur

Message for PayPal or Zelle.

(Please no hate and no unsolicited advice. If you can think of it, we tried it. If you're nasty, I don't have the energy to deal with you. Either way, I will block people who ignore this for my mental health sake.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stricken 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, ostricization,and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you were scarred by a storm years ago and its bringer has come to upheave your life once more.

Characters: God of War!Thor

Note: I did this finally.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You always know when a storm's coming. The hairs on your arms stand and your skin burns hot. The smell of rain is tinted by another scent. That of burning flesh and ash. Your scars raze as if struck again and for a moment, you cannot hear or see. 

Slowly, the scent of rain returns to you and the noise of the patter, sometimes more a hammering, as if to remind you of its bearer. The thunder is his war cry. The lightning his wrath. You do wonder why then it should’ve come down on you. 

You keep your hood up, your chin low. Though you hide, the villagers know who you are, they know of your misfortune. The calamity wrought into your flesh in veined scars. Your face is marked with the storm, zigzagged with lines as your left eye is struck blind and white. 

Yet it isn’t your name they whisper as you stop at a stall to buy grain. It is his. The Prince of Asgard. The might God of Thunder. The monster who made you like this. 

The air is thick, roiling with unspent moisture, and the clouds threatening in a grey ripple. You should have come yesterday. You should not have waited so long.  

You trade your coin and move on, gathering the small rations you can afford. You’ll return to your hovel, gather what you can from the garden, and check the traps for rabbits. It should get you through, though the frost does eat away at your harvest.  

As you have it, between the chirping of your disfigurement, there is worse creeping from the north. The snows have fallen heavy and whole lakes have frozen to the silt. You do not believe all you hear but you know better than to disregard the nip in the air. 

Your basket remains like but you’ve spent your limit. Your cloak shifts with your movement and you shrink lower as you near the group of adolescents feigning at battle with sticks. Their audience glimpses your passing and you hear their voices mingle with laughter. 

“It’s that crone. The burnt one,” comes a bit louder than is meant. 

You don’t stop. You don’t show that you’ve heard it. There is nothing to be said.  

“Cursed, by Thor’s hammer,” another chortles, “it is said he was forging and struck the blade too hard. In his wrath, he sent a storm. A mongrel like her drew it upon herself, broken like the sword.” 

Certainly, that too is a story to be met with skepticism. One cannot guess at what the gods do in Asgard nor why they bring only misery and chaos to Midgard. You cannot disagree that the storm was no favour to you. A curse, certainly, though the meaning can never be known. 

You move along, leaving behind their whispers and their sneers. Off to your solace, to your safe. Out of the path of any wandering soul or any blowing storm.  

⛈

A storm rages without. Water swirls and batters your small abode, built against the wall of a cave on a carpet of peat. You cover your ears as the winds whistle and wail. You quake beneath your cloak, eyes locked shut as you cower away from the tempest so much as your own memories. 

The blinding white flash and the scalding hot pain. Your fingers creep up to your chin and feel the rigged scars. You can never forget, no matter how you try. You can never be as you were. You are marked, you are damaged, and as the villagers have it on their tongues, broken. 

Even your family would not have you. You remember your mother’s wail as your father drove you off like some beast. ‘The gods have smited you themselves. You cannot remain or you will wreck ruin upon us all.’ 

Days of walking and tears, like the very storm that scarred you, a haze through which you trod until you could go no more. Until your head would split and the burnt flesh began to weep. A woman found you on the forest floor, rotting away from the corruption spreading through you. 

You don’t remember much of her. Only her touch and how she healed you. She bid you off with the cloak you wear and some food for your travels. Then you were alone and thus you remain. Not even the thieves will steal from you, nor the criminals darken your door. A curse is worth no piece of gold, no drop of blood. 

The pounding of rain relents. A chill creeps beneath the slats of your door and seep into the walls. You fill the earth with what kindling you have, the clay chimney puffing smoke up through the center of the roof. You hold your hands out to warm but find little comfort. 

You settle on your side beneath your cloak and stare into the flames. You shiver. It’s cold. Very cold. Typically, the rain chases away the chill but this is different. You can feel it in the ground. You curl up tight, clinging to your warmth, let your eyes close. Sleep comes but for lack of and not peacefully. 

Your dreams are a maelstrom. There a flames and ice, one after the other, sometimes together. Sharp pointed shards frozen and hanging, then licking tendrils of heat from below. You are lost in the land of sleep, tortured by a world built of your own fears and follies. 

You wake stiff and frigid. The fire has gone out. Not even smoke remains in the pile of ash. You move carefully, bones aching, scars tingling. You touch the hard ridging along your cheek and your fingers pulse from the cold. You can see your breath. 

How can it be? It was sunny before the rain. You get your feet under you and stand with a groan. Near the door, a strange dusting of white powders around the door, flecking in from beneath and around the edges. Snow? 

Were the tales true after all? You wince as suddenly your scars singe and sting. Ow. You recoil and cover your face with your hands, hissing and wheezing through the pain. It hurts terribly. Worse than even the first strike.  

You pull your hands away as your eyes water and you blink through your tears. You can see, at least in your good eye. There is no lightning, it is only in your mind. You shakily turn and search around. You cry out again as the agony surges once more in your head. 

Why? 

Your legs quake. Something is amiss. The frost has come and this meagre hut cannot withstand it. You take your rucksack and put what you can carry into it. Your water skin is strung across your chest and your pack upon your back. You wrap your boots with rags and your hands too. You haven’t the clothing for the cold but you will need to find something. Perhaps skin a hare or two. 

The door blows inward almost as soon as you touch it, another gust nearly bowling you over. You sway with the wind and cling to the crooked doorframe. You shove yourself out, just as quickly flattened to the wall by a flurry of snow. It dusts your face coldly and you pull up your neck scarf over your nose and pull your hood into place. 

You set off, hunched, reaching with your arms as you lift your knees over the treacherous heaps. You keep close to the rock wall. The thought of turning back stops you but it seems as foolish an idea. The hovel cannot hold for much longer. You need to get to the mouth of the cave and chance a sleeping bear within. 

You sidle along, slowed by the snow and the wind, the former soaking through your clothing as the latter whips around your hood. Suddenly, a roll of thunder, like war drums, churns in the air. The word dims and the furor sounds again; louder, closer. 

You cry out and lift an arm to shield yourself instinctively. You curl your hand into the rockface and holler even louder, closing your eyes as your memory summons another storm. No, it cannot be. Not again.  

A deafening boom shakes the ground and knocks you to your knees. You crawl along, keeping low near the ragged stone, those hidden beneath the snow jabbing against your palms. You whimper and whine, blinded by the thickening curtain all around you. 

Yet you never heard of the god raining down snow upon the lands. Only the slaking rains and the hot violence of his bolts. Never this. What sword has he broken this time? Perhaps it was his very own hammer.

The thunder overhead continues its horrid thrum as more pulses in the earth. Boom, boom, boom. You feel it beneath your hands. Your knees come down clumsily as you scramble through the piling powder. You open your eyes and still cannot see. The world is smudge in gray white and black, the sky flashing and darkening from one moment to the next. 

You cry out again as your scars burn. You push yourself back on your heels and grasp your face as you shriek. It hurts! So bad! Your eyes well and flow over. Your body trembles and collapses. You writhe in the snow, contorting with the agony as your flesh feels as if it is splitting. 

Beneath the incessant pounding comes a rocky noise. Like laughter it curdles in the air and chases after you like the steady boom, boom, boom. Closer and closer, louder and louder, the earth quakes in tandem with the cacophony. 

“I’ve found another,” the deep voice scoffs and snickers, “ah, Heimdall, you must see this--” 

The craterous voice halts and the air still. The snow drifts but the wind stops and the thunder relents, the world seeming to hum. You scratch at your face as the flames grow unbearable. You must be alight. It can be the only reason for such pain. 

The large figure, a blurry silhouette in your skewed vision, looms like a mountain. He steps over you, sliding a foot between you and the cave wall and flips you onto your back. You stare up at the sky, rolling in sheets of grey and black, the dark figure standing above, blotting out the clouds. You sob and plead. 

“Make it stop!” You beg as your hood falls back, “kill me! Kill me! It hurts.” 

He bends as your eyes roll back and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He pulls you half off the ground, not a single grunt for the effort. You feel whoever, whatever it is, looking down at you; upon you. A rattle rises in his gritty throat. 

“And what are you?” He breathes. 

You feel another surge and babble, reining in your wild eyes as you quiver uncontrollably. You make yourself look at him. You shudder and shake your head. Shaggy red hair, a braided beard, and eyes so blue they jolt you. Ink marks one side of his broad face as he wears fur upon his soldiers beneath emblems of the godly lands. 

“It hurts...” you rasp, “I am dying.” 

“You...” he grabs your chin, holding you by your shoulder. His thumb extends up your face to touch the scars and you let out a shrill howl as the agony piques. You latch onto his thick arm and thrash. 

“It buuuuuuuurrnssssssssss,” you scream as your spine arches. 

“Hmm,” he hums and throws you into the snow. You continue your desperate wriggling, the fire softening but not leaving you completely, “Heimdall!” He calls out like a war horn, “get your skinny ass over here!” 

There’s a tinkle of coy laughter and lighter footsteps that land on the boulder above. Your eyes drift over and you see another shadow, this one hazier but smaller. A dusting of snow flies up beside you as the other man lands beside you. No, not a man. 

Heimdall? Son of Odin. 

“Oh, Thor, what trouble have you found--” 

“Another one,” the other growls. Not the other, Thor. The God of Thunder. The beast who marked you. “Father says they all must come.” 

“This one?” Heimdall muses as his voice spikes with humour, “why look at her. Pathetic—wait a moment... brother, is this your handiwork?” He squats to see you closer and snickers again, “why how very peculiar.” 

“Bring her,” Thor barks and spins on his heel, swinging his hammer, “we haven’t time--” 

“You bring her, brother. As you say, you are so much stronger--” 

“Just do it!” Thor snarls and a peel of thunder breaks through the clouds. “I need ale.” 

[tuttle-did-it]

FUCK. THE. TORIES.

They have refused to increase wages whilst forcing the cost of living to skyrocket so high that nearly all of us are counting pennies to pay bills. If we can pay them.

They intentionally and gleefully forced us into a horrible economic (and cultural) depression through Brexit, and not one of them had a single consequence for the constant lies they told to get it passed. This will only get worse.

They have intentionally dismantled the NHS by underfunding it to the point where the NHS staff are all burnt out (having nervous breakdowns, leaving the country for far- better paying jobs or just leaving the field completely) just so they could sell it off to privatised companies worth billions just so they can fill their own pockets. Oh, and the incredible capable staff (medical or support) who were all from Europe have been told they are no longer welcome here and they have returned home because Britain is a cesspool of bigotry and hate

They are dismantling the social care systems for the disabled and elderly, to try to force us back to work even though we are physically and/or mentally incapable of work by stripping away our incomes.

They're doing everything they can to keep us from living by making sure we cannot afford food, housing, utilities, water, and tax.

They are living on taxpayers whilst having millions, even billions in the bank for themselves.

The corrupt politicians fill their bank accounts and buy third and fourth houses across all Europe, another boat— whatever— and they have scandal after scandal with absolutely no consequence, and we can do absolutely nothing.

Their handling of COVID was criminal, and aside from wasting an incredible amount of money, they are responsible for many deaths by not acting fast enough and by forcing people back into the workplace when they knew it was not safe because they wanted to improve the economy they collapsed.

Oh, and don't forget all those lovely parties they had during COVID lockdowns when we were all in our houses and not allowed to see family members who were dying-- or even go to their funerals because of COVID restrictions.

They are intentionally fuelling the hate at queer people-- specifically trans people. This, I assure you, will get so much worse.

They keep sending money from taxpayers over to fund wars in other places-- including genocide-- with no way for us to fight back.

They keep making law after law making it more and more difficult for us to protest against everything they are doing.

Now the Tories expect you to do 12-18 months (+4 reserve years) of mandatory conscripted service in the military so you can go help countries commit war atrocities and genocide. And if you refuse, you are sanctioned. And they are making more and more laws restricting protest and free speech, so if we fight back, we're punished-- criminalised.

Do you understand what is happening right now?

Anyone who can still vote for the Tories after all of this, I have only a deep seeded concern for their sanity, and revulsion at their lack of morals.

FUCK EVERYONE WHO WILL OR HAS EVER VOTED FOR THESE MONSTERS.

FUCK.

THE.

TORIES.

FUCK.

THEM.

ALL.

[luvtonique]

I feel like my artist career might be nearly over.

Now mind you, not because I'm burnt out, or because of some kind of controversy, but entirely because I don't know how much longer I can keep trying to push forward with it.

I don't hate my art, I don't even dislike it. It's my passion, and I want my entire life to be a life or creating art and telling stories.

I love sharing what I create with the world and I love having support from my fanbase.

But as of right now, I just can't get anyone noticing anything I do.

I've been working on a video game for almost a full year now, have gameplay footage I've shown, sprite animations, story I've shown off, characters I've been drawing and describing and giving backstories, and I get like 20 notes tops on anything I post.

I do streams for an average of 5 viewers every Monday and Wednesday and Friday. 5 viewers.

I have had a fundraiser to get me out of California because I can't afford to live here, I'm disabled, and I have a 75yo mother and an autistic brother I'm trying to get out of here too, and I barely scraped together $3000 of donations over the last year.

I pour my heart and soul into music that I've been writing and I'm met with backlash or people flat out ignoring the songs I post because people say my lyrics I write aren't worthy of notice or a paycheck. Soundcloud outright denied my ability to monetize my music. Completely. I am no longer able to request monetization.

The state of California has spent the last 15 years denying my attempts to get SSI, state disability, any kind of social security for my rheumatoid arthritis, and I even got told by a disability lawyer that they had to decline my case because I don't take medication for my disability. When I told them I don't have medical insurance because I don't qualify for MediCAL, they said that isn't their problem.

I watch other artists with 170,000 followers on Twitter bashing me and saying I don't deserve my fanbase for reasons they're just making up, and when I try to defend myself they just bash me harder and block me while I'm over on Twitter with like 300 followers and not getting noticed by anyone.

I reach out to my friends to get retweets, reblogs, etc. and I get nothing. No help, no love, after literal years of me promoting them and doing multistreams with them and collabs with them to help them get noticed.

I've even been blocked by multiple friends of mine when I asked if they wanted to partner up for projects. Really! Blocked! Outright blocked because people want so badly to get away from me!

I am literally starving. I'm currently eating stale sourdough bread that my mom made 2 weeks ago because it's all we have in the house.

I'm sitting here suffering constantly and when I ask people if they wanna like do a collab or do an art trade they always tell me they don't have time, and then the next day I see them post 6-7 art trades they did with another artist.

I make fan-art or fan-music for my artist friends and they just completely ignore it.

I am planning to rework my Patreon into a game dev Patreon to help support my solo development on Melodi, and I guarantee with certainty it won't breach $300 a month.

I have spent my entire life from age 11 to age 35 just working hard to make a living off of my art and all I have earned is a reputation as "a shithead" who never gets given the opportunity to question or debate or be interviewed by the people who call me a shithead.

I'm on the verge of fizzling out.

I'm barely surviving.

And when my game comes out, some day, it may very well be the last thing you ever see from me. I may just leave the internet. I may give up and go find another life to live.

Because even though this is my dream, even though this is all I've ever wanted to do with my life, even though I'm talented and my few fans I still have love everything I make and constantly tell me that my creations are gorgeous, I just plain can't keep doing this forever. I cannot, and will not, continue to suffer alone and obscure.

Case in point: This post is gonna get 2-6 comments from the same people who comment on all my emotional posts saying "I wish I could help but I can't so here's a virtual hug," 16-25 likes and 2 reblogs. And then I'll delete the post.

[andromedasummer]

Over a third of the way through The Whispering Skull heres my current thoughts

- If I were Lockwood and Lucy I would be a little bit mad about George missing the whole "area theyre searching was an execution ground for criminals" thing but also I feel like it's the first clear sign we get that something is off with George. Like hes burnt out. Hes tired. Hes just a teenager. They all are and theyre working adult jobs and literally dont have the capacity or past experience to communicate with one another. Very realistic for teenagers.

- I love Kipps so much I love how full of himself he is I love how pathetic he comes across even when he gets the upper hand I cannot wait to see him and his team get cut down to size.

- That being said I would have thrown down then and there had I been struck with a Mag Flare like that. better ways to go about ghosts, its dangerous as shit, badly damaged L&C's clothes and perfectly shows that the Fitts agency arent really trained in a people-first way. The way they put pressure on their teams to secure a source above all and encourage hostility towards other agents.... Super telling about management and an early warning sign to me. Esp with what we know happens to Ned Shaw (which i'll have a lot to say about later when it happens) and Kat, Bobby and Kipps v trauma.

- I liked Joplin a lot when I read the books as a kid + my reread 2 years back but now... idk. Too reckless, esp with how he treats ghosts when in the company of teenagers and children. Hate how comfortable all the adults in this world are about putting children at risk. They really treat them as a resource or rather than anything else.

- The skull is such a fucking shit stirrer which again makes so much damn sense when you learn hes a teenager whose been stuck with no one to talk to in a jar for like a hundred+ years. Of course you're trying to push apart Lockwood and Lucy. You are a fucked up ex-cultist teenage boy who finally found someone to talk to and are perpetually stuck in your teenage brain and hormones. You are So Jealous.

- Lucy, George and Lockwoods argument about the Georges recklessness and then The Skull seeding distrust again drives home my point about communication but also Christ these kids need more friends. Their entire childhood and teen years are stripped from them. They have no family to talk to or guide them. No non-work friends their age to vent to. Immense trauma and no one to help them through it.

- Jonathan Stroud give me a follow up series following the team in their mid twenties coping with having their lives dedicated to a job they literally cannot do anymore and the repercussions of no education and no safety nets for agents once they reach adulthood. What do they do? Where do they work? Where do they go? How do they afford to live? What happens to agents who only built relationships with coworkers they cant even face because of trauma? Agents disconnected with their families? Nightwatch kids whose education was ruined because their days were spent recovering from their shifts? I need to know.

- Okay back to the book the ghost cult stuff hits so much harder in a post-covid world. I was there getting harassed by anti vaxxers when they invaded parliament for a month and it ended in violence. of course in times of fear people become vulnerable to misinformation. You Are Not Immune To Cults. Or Propaganda. Again, spin-off following the people who try to fight those who profit off of peoples fear and build wealth and followings off of it. Theres so much interesting stuff in this world I want to explore.

- Kipps and Lockwoods teams having to work together bcos of Barnes is so good. I love Kipps team so much I love seeing them

- Kat Godwin is autistic and I know this. Because I am Autistic. Also she comes off as someone who has shut down to everything around her because, again. trauma of her work. at 16 theres no way she hasnt been through something similar to Lucy or Lockwood. I'm sad we see less of her after book three. same with Bobby.

- Now I want to write a hyper empathetic autistic lucy/low empathy autistic kat fic where they both realize they have a lot in common with their Talents and work and bond it doesnt even have to be romantic i just want to see more of Kat

- A LSO i need lucy to have more female friends for the love of god i understand this is your pick me phase of your teens but it makes me so sad to see your internalized misogyny even though it ABSOLUTELY makes sense for her character and is so common for teen girls like her but the way she talks about sensitives and every other female operative she meets. girl. who are you trying to impress rn. you dont need to.

- Ned Shaw getting the shit kicked out of him by Lockwood DESERVED.

- I love this little nightwatch boy who helps the team with all my heart. what is his name. my son. hes such a little cunt.

- FLO TIME FLO TIME i am so excited to see Flo you people DO NOT UNDERSTAND shes so fucking cool mudlarkers are so fucking cool fuck you if you hate flo this is a flo bones appreciation zone

- obligatory "i miss holly" comment even though. she hasnt been introduced yet and wont be until the next book. i love gay people okay.

- Anyway I'm enjoying this a lot I said TWS isnt my fav book (mostly the stuff later on in the book isn't as compelling to me) but this stuff at the start rules. I didn't expect to write so much. Im having so much fun.

[mychlapci]

back again with my sunstreaker merformers propaganda~

so sunny and blue are mates. i personally headcanon that similar to most actual fish species, once the spark eggs end up hatching, the little babies end up swimming out into the rust sea to grow up. (let's be real here most of em end up dying but maybe sunstreaker meets a few of his offspring later off down the line)

so sunstreaker really wants to dick down bluestreak again, because what else are mate supposed to do with each other? and bluestreak is like "oh babe no, i have a job, i cannot get pregnant with three hundred eggs again"

and sunstreaker basically fucking calls off their relationship. and by that i mean he fucks off to the depths of the rust sea with a pout on his face plates and a sinking feeling in his spark. he's torn because he really like bluestreak, not just the interfacing is really great, but also just because the land dweller is a genuinely nice bot who treats him as more than just a nice piece of valve

bluestreak is very busy with his job but he starts to get really worried when sunstreak doesn't show up to their usual meeting spot. he ends up talking to a group of local merformers who live at the university he's studying/working at (i'm thinking rodimus, ratchet, and drift) who basically tell him "you done fucked up stupid" and poor blue is sparkbroken because he didn't mean to hurt his beloved sunny but he really cannot afford to be knocked up 24/7 (y'know with that pesky land dweller economy the way it is lmao)

sunstreaker, on his end, has eventually decided that he's gonna go talk to blue, sort some shit out, and try to fix shit, because while he's a petty bitch who can hold a grudge, more than a few other merformers have caught wind that he's fair game now that the stupid land dweller is out of the picture and sunny's getting real sick and tired of beating people up just to get some alone time

maybe sideswipe knocked some sense into him. (perhaps sides and his mate have decided not to have eggs or smth and they tell sunny about the joys of causal interfacing and how nice it is to be cuddled after getting your valve absolutely wrecked)

anyways sunstreaker manages to swim through the sewer system into the university and bluestreak is minding his own business when he gets a frantic call to come down to one of the tanks with a more aggressive merformer because his boyfriend just randomly showed up and now they're beefing (maybe the bigger merformer is trying to dominate sunstreaker and now sunny's trying to rip his fucking throat cables out)

bluestreak manages to get the whole situation sorted out and sunny is quickly moved to an empty tank so they can talk. cue cute and fluffy shit before sunstreaker grabs blue by the collar faring and hauls him into the water, quickly pinning him down and getting his beloved's spike deep inside his valve opening

anyways happy ending, sunstreaker quickly comes to realise that the idea of bluestreak being stuffed full of eggs is great, having his mate's pussy 24/7 without eggs in the way is just as, if not, better.

hell maybe he moves to the university tank full time and agrees to help catalogue/give info to the university regarding the life cycle and mating habits of rust sea merformers.

bonus points if sunny gets his servos on those fake eggs that bluestreak used on him and then stuffs bluestreak full, slapping a panel lock on him to keep his armour flared and have him waddle around without the downsides of pregnancy

i just really like the idea of sunstreaker and bluestreak being sweet and cute with each other while simultaneously having the nastiest sex possible in the middle of bluestreak's shifts.

"it's for science" he says, getting his valve pounded by merformer spike the size of his lower arm

-burnt ice anon

sorry i dont have much to add because you've done a fantastic job but can i just say. hrghhhh Sunstreaker being a manance with a big spike that leaves Bluestreak limping for days owns my horny little heart. can't get the image out of my head

[thebutterflypoetess]

The poem of a sick individual

Some nights, as she lays down in her bed, 

tired and unable to sleep, 

thoughts not leaving her alone,

realizations hit her barely functioning being.

She was just a child.

Just a child who got betrayed by her mother,

Just a child whose father was absent, then came back to ruin her,

Just a child who was at the top of her game and then fell down like nothing,

Just a child who was made fun of her appearance and personality, 

Just a child dreaming of catching her last breath at the mere age of 11,

Just a child who was never enough for anyone.

No longer a child, unable to properly love nowadays.

Desperately craving it,

yet feeling unworthy of having it aimed at her,

seeking approval where she shouldn’t even dare take a step in,

getting her heart burned to ashes, desiring the dangerous,

suffocating herself with feelings and thoughts of hers so cruel, 

she is a deeply broken individual who wishes to slap her own face,

to leave bruises on it as proof she’s a failure in even healing from some marks.

Pushing the people she loves away,

kicking them just like her mom kicked her out of frustration,

she wishes for them to leave her, yet they offer her a hand,

she runs away, has been running for an eternity now,

grasping for breath, despising herself and them for loving a monster. 

She cannot afford to stop running, she cannot give in to the love and care. 

Because she doesn’t deserve it.

Because she is a monster with a knife she twists,

her own blood dripping down it, so red and beautiful,

turns and keeps stabbing the innocent. 

Because she is furious and raging and so damn sad and lonely,

but no love can save her, she thinks at the front of her mind late at night, 

as she cries and pleads for her own mercy, never receiving it. 

There’s this big missing hole in her heart, the piece lost in her last childhood year.

And she cannot make anyone understand, not even herself,

she is afraid of herself and her pain,

the line between the beginning and the middle blurred,

wondering “is there no way out of this mind and body?’’

How could I be this way, why am I her, what did I do to become her?

Surviving, but never being spared,

she is all her pain and anger, all her suffering,

adoring the sea because she’ll drown in it,

her whole mind and soul are wounded, but it’s so familiar,

so damn familiar, she barely can let it go.

She is locked in her past, between her fear, her hurting and her undying anger,

always remembering and never forgiving herself.

Her bones will crack and one day she’ll fall again.

She keeps carrying something too heavy for her burnt heart,

asking herself “If I were to be saved, would there be anything worth saving?’’.

Then the thoughts die down, sleep lulls her in, and she wakes up in the early morning,

only to find herself having the same thoughts and not a single healed wound…

[hollyhomburg]

It sucks when I decide not to confide in you guys because honestly today was HELL and I cannot go into it without going several pages into my current lore, but BASICALLY

My grandparents are getting kicked out from the house they’ve lived in for 60+ years, primarily because an uncle who is not one of their children is worried about the housing market taking a downturn and not getting his money. The house is a 3.4 million dollar house, it’s next door to my little cabin. This uncle is very well off and in his retirement, when he purchased the house he signed a legal document (notarized by lawyer) that my grandparents could live there for the rest of their lives.

However last month, he sent an email stating that he was kicking my grand parents out on the 5th of November. My mother and a lot of my aunts and uncles are very upset about this, mostly because of my grandmothers dementia- moving her into an unknown location would decrease her memory substantially. A lot of other people where angry on account of them having no place to stay (it’s been decided they’re going to stay with my uncle but at the time we didn’t know where), and because he gave two 91 year old people 30 days! To move 80+ years of their life! a few of my cousins started to chime in, and then my mother sent an email saying that this was not a conversation that anyone should be having but their seven kids and the conversation was moved to a private chat. My grandparents are supposed to move into our house eventually, but our basement apartment is just beginning renovation for them- we need a good year until it’s ready because we’re poor and can only afford to do it slowly and mostly on our own.

And then comes my sister, who has been externally close with this aunt and uncle. She has been mostly non-communicative about this until today, where she called up my mom to see if she could come visit this weekend- because my whole family- all like 70 of us - are banning together to help my grandparents pack up their lives. My mom started to vent to her- and my sister chewed her out for the e-mail saying It was uncalled for and basically took my aunt and uncles side in the whole situation. As well as Criticized her for being financially irresponsible and not having the basement done, blaming her for my grandparents predicament. My mom was /sobbing/ by the end of it. It took my brother and I like- 20 minutes to calm her down.

She then proceeded to call me 5 times before I picked up, and we had a hard conversation about it all, and when she point blank asked me if i thought she should come home this weekend and I told her that no, I didn’t, because our mom needs support not judgment and she’s going to feel her feelings no matter the facts and what we personally think is right, and if she can’t hold her tongue and be supportive to just my mom- then her being here would cause a lot more stress. And that No matter the situation with the rest of the family and what I personally think should happen- my top priority is my mom and getting her through these super tough weeks tbh, not even my grandparents well being, not my aunt and uncle, not even her at this moment.

She thanked me for being honest with her and we ended the call after she apologized for missing my birthday. Which I was honestly really hurt about but brushed it off because I am just too burnt out to care.

Then after we hung up she texted me this, and we had this conversation

And now I’m wondering if I went too far, if I was too mean, if it was bad of me to deny my sister the last chance to see my grandparents in their home. I don’t know, things have been so hard, I hate this, I hate feeling angry and resentful towards people I care about. I just feel like the saying “honesty without tact is cruelty” really applies to it because like, you can about what you’re feeling without it hurting the people you love. I also told my mom I didn’t like the email she sent out to the family- but I was able to do it in a way that didn’t make her sob. Ugh I just don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong and terrible and just ugghhhh I need to sleep

[sanguinala]

zam and mapicc are not on the same wavelength at all and it’s kind of funny but also frustrating. 

from zam’s perspective mapicc is a monster who hates him and is planning to torture him until he gets bored enough to get rid of him permanently. from mapicc’s perspective, it’s somehow both way more simple and way more complicated than that - he does what he does because it’s something to do with zam who is always around but who cannot be interacted with normally anymore, and because mapicc was genuinely hurt by zam’s betrayal, not even specifically of team awesome but of himself, and he seems to constantly want to remind zam that he exists and can’t just be walked away from. at the same time, mapicc sees his zam-stalking as some playful thing and the two of them on a more even level with zam plotting against him, not as the victimizer-victim thing that it actually is.       

take the ‘mapicc room’ in zam’s castle for example - for zam, it’s full of terrifying, multi-layered meaning, and is something he was so freaked out by that other people visiting the castle got scared of it by osmosis. but for mapicc, all the living-in-zam’s-walls stuff was just a little joke, maybe with the potential to be something bigger, but quickly dropped and never picked back up again. he put down redstone to represent his line video on it (reddoons thought it was meant to represent blood) and armor (which zam was too afraid to touch for ages) because “i can afford to donate to prince zam.” he then proceeded to forgot about the room and only remembered it and told zam about it after zam had met with leviathan, which zam took as a threat when really it was more of a “hey look at my dropped project” type thing. 

everything actually escalated after leviathan formed because before that mapicc and zam were on slightly more casual terms; they could be around each other even if, unbeknownst to mapicc, zam was terrified the entire time. but after making a deal with leviathan and discovering the ‘mapicc room’ zam was so consumed by the fear of leviathan “getting rid of him” once he lost his for-subz’s-honour fight that he actually ended up escalating the situation - supposedly to make a statement, but it seemed like it was more to get it over with and maybe take back some control over what he saw as an inevitable ban. this behaviour was so bizarre to mapicc and ro, who did not understand what was going on with zam mentally, that the only way they could rationalize it was to assume that it was all part of some mastermind plan and that there were some Resistance that zam was the leader of - so they later tracked him down to stop it, when actually zam had only just been taken in by subz. 

mapicc sees zam lashing out in fear as arrogance or malice, and himself and zam as playing some chess game that zam is either annoyingly throwing or possibly masterminding based on how weird his actions seem to him. he understands that zam is kinda scared of him - in mapicc’s mind people should be kinda scared of him - but he does not seem to get that zam does irrational things because mapicc has put him in a mental hell and he can’t function properly. and so to mapicc it seems reasonable that he could drop the game to help zam out against pangi - maybe just temporarily, maybe it’s a trap, maybe he actually wants to reconcile - but he doesn’t seem to understand that that bridge is so totally burnt that zam can’t understand why he would even offer to do that.

even as far back as the stream where mapicc first found Sanctuary (is it even called that anymore?), he’s always been insisting to zam that he’s not evil, that it’s not like he’s going to destroy his castle or anything, that the other people on the server are way worse than he is, which confuses zam because what point exactly is mapicc trying to make? well, the point seems to be that mapicc is hurt that zam would hate him for being “evil” and then side with people like clownpierce who, as far as mapicc sees it, currently have way eviler plans. mapicc was even wondering if zam could be in on evil plans because of this perceived hypocrisy. he does not see that zam’s hatred for him is not ideological, it’s deeply personal, because somehow he doesn’t understand how much he’s messed up zam.    

[muninnhuginn]

So, the thing with Qiu Qingzhi vs Qiu Shenji is that they *are* different characters in a lot of ways. Qiu Shenji is more explicitly morally complex whilst what we see of Qiu Qingzhi is much lighter grey, all considered. But the root of their sense of morality remains, for the most part, identical.

In both cases, they have people they prioritise as "their" people. And for these people, they would sell the world. In the cdrama, this applies to Li Bing and the former slaves/convicts. In the manhua/donghua, it's the people working beneath him (such as General Lang in her former role).

Qiu Shenji is very much running the numbers game in a way that implicitly devalues the lives of civilians, purely because of the potential that the civilians could themselves be sleeper agents. He's been burnt before by doing the "compassionate" thing and so now would rather his troops get away safe, even at the expense of potential innocents. He even outright says something to this effect in his discussion with Minister Xu. If it's not their blood on the ground, then it's his.

To be quite frank, it's entirely possible that Qiu Qingzhi is off doing similar maths in the background of the cdrama, and it's an adaptational choice not to make that too explicit. But at the same time, Qiu Qingzhi's chosen people are not *necessarily* the same as Qiu Shenji's. And so the people he is willing to sacrifice to achieve his aims and protect those close to him differ accordingly.

The cdrama doesn't overly concern itself with asking questions of morality, being focused on more personal stakes overall, rather than weighing up any lofty ideas of what constitutes "ends justify the means" or the distant idea of a "greater good".

But just looking at the wider framework here. Qiu Shenji and Qiu Qingzhi are both a lot more politically aware than Li Bing and this heavily informs their actions. Li Bing can afford to rally for justice because of the space that's been made for him to do so. Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji do not have that option.

In Qiu Qingzhi's case, it's because his upbringing as a slave cannot be cast off. (Both he and Lai Zhongzhu have this in common. Where the donghua/manhua go for morality and politics, the cdrama goes more for class commentary. Qiu Qingzhi and Lai Zhongzhu both claw their way up from their birth stations and yet neither can remain there for long. They would never *truly* be accepted, not matter what actions they take to prove their loyalty). He has seen how disposable he and his fellow slaves are considered to be and so knows he cannot put a foot wrong.

In Qiu Shenji's, it's because he knows full well how easily he can be implicated by his former relationship with the Li family. (Something that the actual Li Bing was politically astute enough to pick up on years before any rebellion had taken place) And, honestly, even with his other reasons, I wouldn't be surprised if that also plays somewhat into why he's so overzealous in quashing rebellions. The idea of taking down rebels so viciously that he cannot ever be accused of being one himself.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji act strongly in their determination to achieve their aims. They want to shoulder the hard acts because they believe that they *have* to be done, but at the same time, are entirely willing to take on that burden *alone* without demeaning those who feel differently.

For Qiu Shenji, General Lang mentions she couldn't stomach his rebel-quashing tactics and so he made sure to obtain her a position elsewhere. She says he had also done this for others and seems thankful, even as she must know she is still complicit. Qiu Shenji knows how he is seen by the general populace, but thinks it an acceptable sacrifice for maintaining peace.

For Qiu Qingzhi, he made his deal with Yi Zhihua and then locked out Li Bing entirely, despite all their history. He would rather Li Bing hate him but be safe than let him in and put him at risk.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji commit to drown themselves in the blood of others so that they can protect "their" people. They made their decisions long ago and remain committed. Even choking, caged in a trap slowly tightening around them, they will not flee.

[cardamomflower]

TW: murder, transphobia, addiction

8 years ago today, a trans activist named Hande Kader was burnt to death in İstanbul and found in Sarıyer, where I live currently. I never forgot about it since, and I remember crying her name out in the marches with other women+, screaming until my voice went away. In the past 3 years, hate speech has been done deliberately by the Turkish governement itself and hate crime rates went insanely up. I have developed agoraphobia an drug addiction because of that. I do not remember a day where I did not think about my trans+ people’s safety and happiness. I only ever wanted us to stick to each other and I promised to protect and support trans people with my life, years before I came out as such. I am fucking HERE, and I’ll be here for any trans person, just not leaving them alone untill they basically tell me to fuck off. That’s how anxious I get attached to my friends. Today I had to leave my friend group made of 7 trans people, because of their avoidancy against each other and me. Even though I am mad, I’m actually disappointed and fucking heartbroken. All of us live in a CITY WHERE A TRANS WOMAN WAS BURNT TO DEATH. I can’t stop asking myself, who else do they have, besides each other? Who got their backs that makes them forget about each other so quickly, so easily? How am I so disposable? I feel fucking lonely here. Even though I feel like I’m taken for granted, I’ll keep hosting house gatherings and feed trans people untill I run out of money. Even though I feel used I’ll keep my door open for trans people. I’ll keep trusting and pouring my heart out into their hands, no matter how many times it gets broken. So many trans people was killed here, in the place I was born and grew up. Here in my home. A trans activist died in the hands of the government and others will keep on dying every day unless somebody does something. I do not give a fuck about my own pain and I’ll keep on standing still, my hands out to reach for help. Fuck my trust issues and keep on befriending people. We cannot afford avoidancy anymore. We need each other to survive. We are systematically left lonely and I hope our pain is heard overseas.

[sappho-ism]

"getting revenge on the rich"

you say that until its you who is the victim.

have some empathy, you idiot.

I don’t have empathy for rich cunts who go to a festival to watch a giant fucking statue being burnt releasing on average, 100,000 tons of co2 into the atmosphere year after year, further speeding up the death of our planet meanwhile people don’t even have the fucking money to put food on their tables.

I don’t have empathy for rich people who are so out of touch of reality that they couldn’t tell they were exploiting people if it was right in front of their faces.

The rich have never cared about this kind of shit happening to the general public, the people who cannot afford to get themselves out of these situations.

The rich don’t care about you, so stop defending them. Because they sure as fucking hell wouldn’t do the same. Do you know just how many people are being exploited just so these people can have their giant burning statues and private jets?

Take that fucking boot out of your mouth and open your eyes. It’s embarrassing.

[tiredspacedragon]

there's also just the exasperation that comes with like, the kind of person who responds to any criticism of the way the system with "well just vote blue and it'll get better!" and the general idea that voting is the end-all-be-all of direct action and you're only allowed to change the system if you play by the system's rules. and whatever the intention is, a lot of people tend to have a knee-jerk reaction to serious pleas for people to vote because it feels like being told to "shut up and play nice".

See that I have no problem with. They're right, just voting isn't enough to make a change. Voting cannot be the end of your activism, you have to keep pushing, keep fighting for things to get better. I have no shortage of empathy for people who are burnt out on hearing "just vote, just vote blue and it'll get better" when that obviously doesn't seem to be enough. It's exhausting, I don't blame them for that at all. But the fact of the matter is that the correct response to that feeling is not to give up on voting or turn on the people who encourage you to vote, it's to reframe your perception of what voting is and why you do it.

Voting is not the end-all-be-all.

It is damage control.

You don't vote blue because the dems are righteous paragons who will lead your country toward a brighter future. You vote blue because it is a hell of a lot easier to rein in the democrats and steer them toward making better decisions than it is the republicans. Because it's a whole lot easier to criticise and maybe even change the system under a government that drags its feet and makes decisions you don't like sometimes than it is under a government that is actively trying to kill you.

So trust me, I get it. I get how annoying and frustrating it is to hear people telling you to vote constantly, and how much it feels like dismissal. But it's not. The people telling you that don't want you to shut up, they want you to survive, and they're trying to tell you how to do that. They're not always going to explain in perfect detail that voting is just Part 1 and you have to keep going, but that meaning is implicit. So what you do when you feel that frustration is tell them "I know." Or even try talking about what you can do after the election period is over and the immediate danger of catastrophe has passed. Talk about how you can change the system, talk about organizing, talk about campaigning, about making a real, tangible difference.

What you don't do is make jokes about not voting. Because regardless of how much you mean it, someone will see it, and they will mean it. And if enough people like that see it, they will act on it, and there will be consequences.

So I'm sorry. I know it feels patronizing, and performative, and pointless. But it's not. And you cannot afford to forget that. Because it really could be so much worse than it is now. So please. Vote, and keep active afterwards. While you still can.

[miguelpocholo]

Hi,

This is me writing to myself.

I'm a loser.

The loser who believed in the kindness of humanity, but experienced how humans work.

The loser who thought what his parents did was normal and what "normal parents" did was special.

The kind that people think is gonna be okay, but isn't.

The kind that seems "capable" but is having frequent meltdowns from time to time.

The kind that was born in a "good society" but fits in poverty.

The kind that nobody would help. Some people helped me but other people benefited from the help, not me.

The kind that would get nagged why I'm in a situation like this, because they all expected me to fuck this up and have been preparing a "fuck you" speech for me.

They had high expectations from me but I'm not that person. Because if I am, I'm not gonna be the one needing help,

...all while simultaneously expecting me to fuck shit up too, because it's "in my nature".

Could people make their minds up? You can't expect me to be "good at doing something" while thinking at the same time that I'm gonna be a failure.

Being good at failure isn't a thing.

I'm the loser who didn't wanna be in this situation, despite the fact that I've tried in my life, to improve my situation but life just kept shitting on me.

I'm the loser who wouldn't cheat off of the system so I can have a better advantage. I'm the loser who thought honesty has value.

I'm the loser who believed in everything good, but was betrayed by my belief.

The only thing I have "more" than other people is hate, rage and sleep. And that's not even a joke.

I envy the people who receive help from others. I envy you, who waste people's kindess that's perpetually given to you. I envy you who have a privileged life, and burn other people's money.

Some days, I fantasize robbing rich people. People who wouldn't mind losing large sums of cash. People who spend a fortune on worthless junk. People who waste resources just to show their financial advantage.

Nobody guided me how to get ahead, they just told me to do so.

Like how I had to make coffee for my dad the first time when I was 7, without knowing how to make coffee. Or how I was tasked with cooking rice for the first time at 11 without anyone teaching me. Of course the coffee tasted bitter, and the rice was burnt. Nobody taught me how to do those things prior, and of course I was punished for making bad shit.

Nobody guided me how to get ahead, they just told me to. And life fucked me up for not knowing how to get ahead. I get minor ups, but everything is just downhill.

Life itself is telling me to kill myself.

As I write this I cannot help myself but to imagine being in a far and foreign place, where nobody knows me, and my worth would be what I can do for work.

As I write this, I can only imagine the freedom a noose can give. The problems a noose can solve. The relief of bearing no more baggages, a noose can provide.

As I write this, I can only imagine. as I'm only restricted within the confines of my room, the only thing I can afford.

I'm tired of people. I'm tired of having to absorb negativity just so others can have positive energy. I'm tired of having high hopes for an illusion.

I just want to unhinge my psyche, let hell break loose, and accept what ever aftermath I deserve.

If life wants me to kill myself, the least I could do is go out in my own way.

❗THIS IS NOT A MOTIVATIONAL PARAGRAPH.

[tropylium]

On Responsibly Reblogging to Give

I can't believe this needs to be said, but: Do not participate on "reblog to give…" posts if you don't have the thing and are counting on some later reblogger to give one to you! They're supposed to be about sharing what you already have, not an invitation to run a pyramid scheme. It's not even just you who might get burnt: the more of you there are doing this, now you've got a chain of four people in a row, all in debt for "a kiss from a cute snail" that they don't have… but at least still would have been able to clear if even just the last one of you did. That's what happens though if you introduce this kind of posts to a circle where no one has kisses from a cute snail, you know? A post alone won't be able to manifest cute snails from nothing, it relies on your own contribution. Be responsible. Be careful. Don't go in snail kiss debt. It's no joke.

While I'm at it, likewise also for "reblog to receive…" posts, with a few different details. Yes, you might be reasonable to assume you will actually receive said tiny magical cube. But even then, be ready to have more than one person in turn request one from you! Can they rely on you to invoke its tiny magical powers to duplicate it as needed? You are not the only person out there in need of tiny magical cubes and it's unfair to lead others on with promises about it you cannot fulfill. And it, once again, multiplies: you're not just burning off the 2nd person who reblogged from you, but also the three that reblogged from them, the five who reblogged from one of those… And as a bigger warning still, as you should be able to figure out, but which again probably needs to be said: this latter type of post sometimes really is just a reverse pyramid scheme. Do not trust on being such a small-scale blogger that no one will in turn request you to give them an indecipherable emotion, if you cannot afford to give any yourself! You wouldn't be reblogging the post in the first place if you didn't know how hard it is to procure indecipherable emotions in this economy — and you know, there will be people checking the notes on whom the post has not been reblogged from yet. You will get burnt if you think it's just hey, free indecipherable emotions? It is no such thing: it is a commitment to giving more of them out.

[oimatchstickman]

Do I like that I’m burnt out on covid news and that I literally cannot take in any more information about this freaking virus or I will have at least a minor breakdown? Nope.

Am I gonna do anything to change that? Also no. Mostly because people have not figured out how to talk to people who were really good about masking, ect. but just cannot deal with that any more vs. the people who never did those things.

I am Tired. I know it’s not good that I Am Done With It. But I am.