#carry on with your life

[sherlockig]

-

[hotcinnamonsunset]

🎣lure me in, baby!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I want it back / I drag its dead weight forward.

[halorvic]

August 20, 2024 @Imani_Barbarin

Transcript:

"Remember when disabled people were trying to warn everybody that the politicization of the CDC and the complete erosion of public health would impact everyone eventually? Well, news just came out that the CDC guidelines have been updated so that students with lice no longer need to be sent home early.

…......

Right?

The CDC is ACTIVELY weakening its guidelines on lice so that students with lice can remain in school. Now, why would they do that, right? 'Cause children missing school in a vacuum is not necessarily a bad thing, particularly when they're trying to prevent the spread of something like lice -- or COVID but hey, YOU all don't wanna talk about that anymore, right?

But it's because you all work and they don't want you staying home from work, so they'll expose your children to lice in order for you to stay in work, for you to make those ducats, right? For corporations and billionaires.

If this is something you can tolerate -- feel free, right? But these loosening guidelines don't just stop with lice. They are running down the list of things, so that it harms and impacts your children, your families and your communities, and disabled people have been saying this from the beginning -- that it won't just stop at COVID because disabled people are "disposable", but it'll impact every single thing.

And now, we have a rise in monkeypox, 'cause there's another variant going around, and that has a 10% fatality rate."

[letraspal]

Carry On, Simon. 💜💚

[elation-station]

the town bisexuals are at your door it is time for you to pick a bride

[pacey-witters]

Outfit Appreciation ➝ Carrie Bradshaw (Season 1)

[spiderthread]

why don't you let yourself be gently peeled off the ground and tossed across the back of a horse like a sack of potatoes by the most handsome man in china, then maybe you'll calm down

(+ bonus:)

[blueskittlesart]

*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?

tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[crowlore]

TriMax Volume 10 Chapter 7 and a request left behind

[downtilts]

kyle and johnny during their ig live talking about “oh here’s an interesting question, does randy miss benson?” “oh that’s tricky, that’s such a tricky question” well i think randy is 24 and graduating with his associates degree from a local community college and he sees someone wearing yellow out of the corner of his eye and for a second he thinks its benson here to congratulate him to touch his neck and say good job kid and then randy catches himself because benson’s been dead for three years now, but it’s the third time this week he could’ve sworn he saw him. and i think randy is 27 and he’s out on a first date with a guy getting brunch and his date orders the western omelette and randy says excuse me and goes to the bathroom and cries and cries and texts his date saying im sorry but im not feeling well i have to go home. and i think randy is 31 and looking through some old things he left at his mom’s house and he finds benson’s Jacket in a box and he pretends to be surprised like oh i forgot this was here but he knew it was there, he put it way in the back on purpose, out of sight out of mind, but he still thinks about it every day, still wants to put it on every day, is so sad it doesn’t smell like cigarettes anymore

[theactualsunshinechild]

I think Aventio and Screwtio shippers shouldn't fight. After all, Ratio has two hands!

That's right. Two hands.

One for his chalk.

One for his codex.

Both of which he's holding in an embarrassed death grip as they chat away with each other about him.

[hogans-heroes]

"Well, right now," she said, "I'm not dead. But when I am, it's like ... I don't know, I guess it's like being inside a book that nobody's reading."

"A book?" I said.

"An old one. It's up on a library shelf, so you're safe and everything, but the book hasn't been checked out for a long, long time. All you can do is wait. Just hope somebody'll pick it up and start reading."

- Tim O’Brien, “Lives of the Dead”

[cherubchoirs]

V1’s creators must’ve been so proud seeing it perform what it was made for, the killing of Earthmovers.

anon it's making me crazy........this really puts into place just how i think of their short reunion, these husks waiting on the earthmover all this time with life and death near indistinguishable. time is a meaningless blur, hell dulling them down to instincts and only a base understanding of their world, until their v1 comes home to them. it excites a moment of absolute clarity, their machine so perfected, so specialized, that it never saw its limitless potential fulfilled because war, its only purpose, became defunct. they marvel at it, look how it moves now, look how it behaves, look how it's modified itself - it even has painted its weapons! and i think v1, seeing them, is flooded with corrupted memories difficult to parse but imbued with some emotion. familiarity. briefly, simulations flash in its mind, somebody directing it. the earthmover - not a real one, parts of it. its deck. insides. defense systems. core. v1 failing over and over again but learning each time. it can infiltrate the deck now. it can deactivate the defense system now. it understands the core's pattern now. it strings them together. it will kill the earthmover now. and their excitement, their cheers. their red horse will destroy the horsemen. and v1 remembers it when it sees them now. it knows everything ahead of it, like a premonition. these husks patch it up, and suddenly they are all alive again. the life they would have had, even v1. it looks up the hulking mass of the earthmover and it feels the long latent code at the core of its being light up. this is its fight. it was made so small, so light, so fast, to infect this monstrosity like a virus (it thinks a funny thought, maybe that's "v1") it was made so sophisticated in intelligence to avoid its "immune system", to adapt to any machine on the earthmover and to be creative in how it can scale it. the husks of its makers give no instruction - v1 is far beyond need of that, they know, but in some garbled, choked out words, they express their confidence. they know it can do this. it was perfect in their simulations, but inside their long dead hearts....they're still nervous. not for themselves, of course, the outcome means little in the void of hell, but nervous only for v1. their little virus with such a massive undertaking. and now i can only think of it speeding off as the husks are rooted to where they stand, no motion, no thought, no words, until the self-destruct countdown begins. and they cheer. their prototype was a success.

[canisalbus]

I was on Pinterest this morning and I saw this and went “MACHETE wait- he wouldn’t drink from a puddle even in an apocalypse” then I’m like- apocalypse machete wouldn’t last five minutes, he’d cringe at the thought of mud getting on his heels(tm) and Vasco would probably act like a hunting dog, he might do pretty well ina full on apocalypse or war or something, and he would carry machete over all the mud puddles Q^Q

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