#and very much still larrying

[ratatatastic]

los angeles dodgers @ st louis cardinals first pitch | 8.18.24 (x)

[louisplumpyass]

on this day, i was untamed... lost my fucking mind

[den-ai-d]

I think I've only ever drawn off-duty Larry once and that clearly needed to be rectified so here's a small collage of that.

[iamnmbr3]

the moment when you realize an ai would've written a better larry show than mike waldron bc an ai would've been trained on previous loki content and thus, unlike mike, would've actually watched the films

[lifeonmvrs]

signal samurai trio, my beloved <3

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I know, I know," he admitted with a small sigh: It was an extremely reckless thing to do, for him to have made a flying leap at Constance like that, to say nothing of him and his parents' plan to attack her with homemade crucifixes and stakes. There were so many ways their plan could have gone wrong, so many ways they could've failed...so many ways they could've been hurt-or worse...

"But...I just couldn't let you fight her on your own!" Randall insisted, as he took her hand to squeeze. "I...I just couldn't sit idly by, and neither could Ma or Pa! We had to take a risk, a...a gamble, because we were worried about you! We wanted to help you if we could, and I don't regret taking that risk for a second. And I'm sure if you asked my folks, they would tell you just the same."

In a way, he and his parents had the element of surprise on their side: He was sure Constance expected them to cower in the house, told to stay put by Emily...but he was also sure that, had Emily been (God forbid) killed by her, that Constance would've had no problem waiting the three mortals out-they'd have to leave the house at some point...

...and when they did, she'd be there.

"I know it was...a foolish thing to do," he admitted with a wry smile. "It was a big chance I took, but...I love you, Emily. I love you, and I don't want to lose you ever again. And if that meant putting my own life on the line to protect you, to give you a fighting chance to put that monster down for good...then so be it!"

[louiswilliamtomlinsons]

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[beetlejuce]

wouldn’t it be so funny if/when I’m able to get help for my untreated mental illnesses and actually get on medication, like, idk some antidepressant or mood stabiliser, I lose my Foals obsession and become no longer attracted to yannis

[transgaysex]

god remember jake marshall. from rfta

[statementlou]

I am not sure I understand your tags about Louis galking about F specifically in that latest int.what makes sense to you?that he mentions F?why would that male sense to you even if that is his kid,like donyou know any musician who talks about their kid as much asL does?

I don't follow any other musicians' promos, and I very much doubt any of the other people who are always repeating to each other this as some kind of evidence of something do either, but even if you do and Louis’ is wildly different, so what? What does that have to do with anything? Are you trying to use that to convince me Freddie isn't Louis' kid or something? I feel like this is the equivalent of people telling me that I should believe Louis is gay because he once wore something that had some numbers on it that added up to an anagram that corresponded to the page Oscar Wilde was on in some obscure children’s book, like... why. That stuff is utterly beside the point, is not remotely necessary, and just makes us all sound ridiculous.

And even aside from that, sometimes I think this fandom’s obsession with trying to convince other people of things is its worst quality. Do you actually think it helps Louis to have more people trying to talk everyone on earth into believing he’s gay and is lying, essentially trying to out him every day on the internet to anyone who will listen? Who really cares what I think about Freddie’s parentage, that you have come here to try to show me the error of my ways? Maybe once upon a time, when Louis was locked in a struggle with modest, fans convincing other people of some things was useful to him, but 1) those days are long behind us and he is making his own moves now and I think if we want to support him, we follow his lead: show our support to HIM but SHUT THE FUCK UP to everyone else and let him build the image he wants to, and 2) that NEVER helped in the case of the Freddie mess and is probably the reason things are where they are today, that Louis has clearly made the call that it isn’t possible to end it and he will just be in this kid’s life. It might have been possible to end it at like four different times in the past six years but then it wasn’t, very possibly because people could not just SHUT THE FUCK UP and instead were all up in the media and trying to convince people loudly on twitter that the situation was faked and making it totally impossible! So I won’t be trying to convince anyone why they should believe this that or the other, and this isn’t a discussion that I am interested in continuing- welcome to tumblr, twitter refugees, but consider this your one freebie explainer of why a lot of people won’t talk about this before I go back to doing just that. Meanwhile I will continue to take Louis’ lead and do the things he has responded positively to (rather than those he is actively out there trying to discourage), I will show him my rainbow and smile back at him when he points and beams and I will tell him why he means a lot to me as a queer person if I have the opportunity, but I will also listen when he says, this is what we are doing now. And I will SHUT THE FUCK UP IN PUBLIC about his fucking closet (just like everyone should have done for Kit Conner, if you want an example of why coming after people to do what you want or think is best for them is not cool.)

ANYWAY if you didn’t understand what I was saying, maybe try reading it again without being all activated and defensive like omg does this person think he’s a FATHER I have to CHANGE THEIR MIND, and maybe it won’t be confusing. If you let go of the idea that he is being held captive and forced to mention Freddie, and just watch Louis occasionally mentioning Freddie as a pretty chill way to maintain his closet without having to actually say he’s straight, the way he does it in that interview does make sense to me, yes. He hits a spot where he doesn’t have a good public consumption answer, and then realizes he can get a two-fer out of it by making the answer Freddie! He is saved having to come up with a person out of his actual private personal life- and note that it isn’t just Harry that is erased from his public narrative, it’s EVERYONE except Official Public Friend Oli (and Freddie). Like, we know he texts the twins like practically daily for example, and that he shares music with them early, but he never never mentions them in press. He never mentions ANYONE who isn’t part of the Louis Tomlinson(tm) story and even some of the people who are! So he needed an answer besides Oli and was cornered by not being able to use that one. Then he’s like oh right! I can say Freddie and not only does that solve that problem, it takes care of establishing that I’m straight for another couple weeks, look at me I’m a multitasking king! It’s not that fucking deep, and it’s not that fucking DIRE, it’s just business babes, and more importantly, it’s HIS business to decide how to handle, not mine.

[causticsunshine]

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[zed-the-buggy]

every day i come closer to actually rewriting that shite too popular larry post about capitalism and systems of power and the complex dynamics going on

[dashiellqvverty]

calling myself a former rpf fan is so misleading bc “fiction” had nothing to do with it. even when i did read fic i was never even all that into it and i didn’t really get much out of it it was ALL about reading those primers and manifestos and analyzing lyrics and watching videos/interviews/etc

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[fookingcarrotsandpotatoes28]

My yt again!

[blackandwhlteaesthetlc]

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