#hell knows if it'll ever be stable again

[lightbluetown]

now that the renewal is imminent i just want to say i'm so excited for season 3, and it's not just because i get to see my favorite characters again. i truly think we're in for one hell of a ride here

season 1 was about stede and ed falling in love and season 2 was about them fighting for it, making peace with their own selves in order to fulfill their potential when they officially get together. they grew in ways they'd never thought possible and got to open an inn. it's the perfect ending! this is where the credits would roll in most romcoms. how often do we get to see past this stage?

but david jenkins has been planning for three seasons from the beginning. this show was never supposed to just be about if, when and how stede and ed would get together-- we're also meant to see what they will do together. you know, the actual relationship part. we'll see what they'll do when they don't agree on where their new chair should go, we'll see what they'll do when they haven't been able to hunt for a few days and they're both getting pretty tired of eating herbs, we'll see what they'll do when they can't choose a name for a cool new dish they invented and they let this snowball into a fight because the storm has trapped them in the damn inn for a whole week and it's kind of driving them nuts. they'll bicker, fail to consider the other's pov, make assumptions, say things they can't take back, hurt each other. and they'll make amends, reach out, open up, make small gestures and get each other gifts. they'll never be completely in sync or completely stable, because that's just not how it ever works. but they'll figure things out and they'll adjust to each other because that's what season 3 will be about: staying together

i just trust these writers, man. this romcom with an established main relationship won't have any "person overhears part of a conversation and misunderstands things" or "person fears they might get cheated on" plots. stede and ed's love is absolute-- it won't be questioned through cheap conflicts. they'll have to face huge, piracy-related challenges, and also ones that are really personal and intimate, but in the end they'll always be head over heels for each other. it'll be a great depiction of the actual experience of being in a relationship. and i can't wait.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Meet Your Children

A First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Liked by sza, saweetie, urbanwyatt, dualipa, and 2,393,927 others

y/ninsta: patiently waiting for daddy to come home. our godfather urbanwyatt did the photoshoot 🥰

jackharlow: Y/N!!!!

y/ninsta: surpriseeee jackharlow you now have four daughters. we're halfway to eight 🥰

jackharlow: urbanwyatt I told you to watch her for an hour and you let her not buy one but FOUR puppies!?! I haven't even been gone that long!

urbanwyatt: jackharlow it was either that or she threatened to put my weed in her bra again. That was a traumatic experience.

jackharlow: y/ninsta I swear you be taking years off my life

dualipa: jackharlow that's better for me 😏

jackharlow: dualipa I'll haunt your ass if you touch my baby

jackharlow: y/ninsta explain this now. right NOW.

y/ninsta: jackharlow I got bored so meet Blanche, Rose, Dorothy, and Sophia

saweetie: the Golden Girls but as puppies! Cuteeeeee

jackharlow: naw saweetie don't encourage her this shit ain't cute

jackharlow: y/ninsta when we get bored we have sex not make huge purchases 🙄

y/ninsta: jackharlow speak for yourself because I usually do both

jackharlow: urbanwyatt what else did she buy!?

urbanwyatt: jackharlow there may be a turtle somewhere in the house

sza: aww omg what did you name the turtle?

y/ninsta: sza Donatello, Leonardo, Michaelangelo, and Raphael

theestallion: teenage mutant ninja turtles!!

jackharlow: urbanwyatt SHE JUST SAID FOUR NAMES AND YOU SAID THERE WAS ONE TURTLE

urbanwyatt: jackharlow look your wife is heavy handed and I'm not tryna die and neelamthadhani had a hand in this too so she needs to catch all the smoke too and not just me

neelamthadhani: urbanwyatt did not! don't you bring me into this

urbanwyatt: neelamthadhani you literally bought the dog food and the tank for the turtles

jackharlow: neelamthadhani explain yourself

neelamthadhani: jackharlow you already know I have a problem telling your wife no

jackharlow: neelamthadhani apparently everyone does

saweetie: jackharlow including you

jackharlow: y/ninsta so are we starting a farm and you failed to tell me?

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't freak out but....

jackharlow: y/ninsta nothing good ever comes after that from you

y/ninsta: you have two sons named piggie smalls and pork chop 🥰

jackharlow: y/ninsta A PIG!?! REALLY Y/N!?

y/ninsta: and our horses are named cinnamon and sugar. Maggie helped me with that one 🥰

jackharlow: y/ninsta who is about to take care of all these animals?

y/ninsta: jackharlow shit you they daddy

jackharlow: y/ninsta I'm running away

y/ninsta: jackharlow try that shit if you want to. imma hunt your ass down so I get my child support for all 12 of them

jackharlow: y/ninsta for children I didn't know existed until today!?! where in the world are the horses?

y/ninsta: jackharlow about that....

jackharlow: urbanwyatt where are they!?

urbanwyatt: she's building stables in the backyard for them at the house in Kentucky so they're down there jackharlow

sza: well jackharlow I told your ass to get her a dog

jackharlow: sza one dog. singular. she now has four. plural.

normani: when can I meet my nieces and nephews? 😍

y/ninsta: normani let me get them settled and it's a date

jackharlow: my house is now a zoo

lilnasx: in that case add druski2funny to the collection

y/ninsta: lilnasx so he can eat us out of a house and a home? You take him

lilnasx: y/ninsta it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens

druski2funny: now how did I get dragged into this?

urbanwyatt: y/ninsta Leonardo ate my weed!

y/ninsta: urbanwyatt oh shit he probably thought it was lettuce 😳

jackharlow: wow ain't have my child one day and urbanwyatt already got him high. some godfather you are 🙄

y/ninsta: jackharlow oh so now you wanna claim them!?

jackharlow: y/ninsta it's not like you gave me a choice!

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

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@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

[501st-rexster]

I'll Never Leave You

Cody X GN Reader

Fluff, severe injury, angst/comfort, sweet

WC: 1320

Word is the 212th finally returned! Only problem is, the other word is that Commander Cody was severely wounded. You can't bear to lose the man you owe your life.

As you run down the hall of the medical facility, you think back to only a short while ago, when you had received the news that Cody had come back from the front lines.

“The Commander is back?! That’s great!” You exclaimed with joy, but it immediately melted away at the expression on Thorn’s face.

“No one told you?” He wondered quietly.

Your eyebrow rose. “Told me what?”

Thorn bit his lip, then you caught the words of a few passing clones. 

“Thank the Force the 212th got back in time.”

“Yeah. I think the Commander’s stable now, but I’m not positive.”

“I’m just glad he’s alive.”

Your gaze snapped to Thorn. “What are they talking about?! What happened to Cody?!” You demanded, but Thorn took your shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“You should go see him yourself. He’ll… he’ll need you now more than ever. I know how much my little brother adores you, and if anyone can make him feel better, it'll be you.”

So now you’re running, ignoring everyone who waves or offers a kind hello, only thinking the worst. Cody is hurt. You have no idea how bad, but if Thorn’s reaction was any clue…

You can’t handle anything happening to him. He’s the only person who understands you, who has been there for you no matter what, who cares for you in a way no one else ever has. Since you two first met, he’s been like a bright shining spot of hope, not just from his sunburst armor. When he’d found you that day in the lower levels, scrounging for food, and he’d held out his hand and offered to buy you a meal, you felt a sense of compassion you’d never known before. When you began to get to know each other when he would come and visit, you’d never been happier. The first time he ever kissed you under the flickering light of a street lamp and told you he loved you, that was euphoria. Cody was the one to help you escape the depressive hell you were living, helped you to get a job at the Guard as a records keeper, helped you to earn respect and know friendship and love.

You owed him everything.

And now, who knows how badly he was hurt. If you'd ever be able to feel like that again.

Finally you reach the patient rooms and scan each one quickly, then a shout from down the hall brings your head up to see the frantically waving arm belonging to Wooley. Sprinting down to meet him, he immediately engulfs you in a hug when you reach him. You gladly embrace him; he’s always felt as a little brother to you, and he was the first one to find out about the relationship between you and Commander Cody. He had promised to keep your secret and you thank him for it every day.

When you draw back, you shake your head. “Wooley, what’s going on? I heard Cody is-”

“Yeah. He’s hurt. It… It’s bad, burc’ya. But he is awake, and I think he’ll be glad to see you.” Wooley informs you. “He can tell you about what happened. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you two,” he winks. You shove him playfully then enter the room with a heavy heart.

The door hisses shut behind you and the sight of Cody, pale and motionless, wrapped in bandages in the hospital bed breaks something inside of you.

“Cody…” The name is barely a broken whisper as you walk to his bedside, then a small hum escapes his lips as they turn up in a smile.

“I was wondering when you were gonna visit.” His voice is gravelly, strained, but his now open eyes shine as he looks at you. “Mesh’la. You’re just as radiant as the last time I saw you-”

“What did you do?!” You cry, looking at all the bandages covering his chest, arms, presumably his legs, and neck, then your breath leaves you as Cody shrugs and holds up his right arm to reveal from his elbow down is missing, just an upper arm wrapped in bandages. “Cod’ika…”

Cody scoffs with a grin. “Eh, that’s nothing. I mean, it’s not gonna magically grown back but hey, maybe I’ll get a cool robot arm or some-”

Your hands on his cheeks drag his gaze back to you. “What. Did. You. Do.” You make sure your voice holds the tone of seriousness that Cody knows not to lie to.

Sure enough, the Commander’s face falls flat. He takes a deep breath. “The mission didn’t exactly go as planned.”

A hard sigh escapes your lips and gritted teeth. “YEP. I can see that.”

“Look, it’s not like I was trying to be thrown off that fekking cliff-”

“YOU GOT THROWN OFF A CLIFF?!”

“Not on purpose! And it wasn’t so much thrown as fell…”

“CODY.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I was doing my best to distract Grievous while Kenobi tried to get the upper hand. He managed a few hits at me, his claws tore right through my armor,” his hand moves to his chest and the bloodied bandages that cover it. “And when I went to lunge, well, one of his lightsabers came down and…” Cody lifts what’s left of his right arm. “Boil found me. Told me Kenobi had seen me fall after Grievous sent me stumbling off the edge and immediately sent him after me. I didn’t even realize I’d broken my leg until I tried to stand, that’s when I felt my cracked ribs and the blood.” He sighs heavily before meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry, cyare. I should have commed you on the way back, I wanted to but Kenobi had me put under for the flight so I could remain stable.” 

Cody takes your hand and pulls you close. “Look at me.” You meet his eyes, the brown shining like Corellian Rum, and he smiles softly. “I am never going to leave you, you understand me? No matter how battered I get, no matter what baddie beats me down next, I’m always going to come right back to you. I will never let you be alone again.”

You manage to hold back the tears and rub his cheek with your thumb, leaning forward to press against his forehead in a keldabe. “You’re going to give me so much stress, cyar’ika. But I wouldn’t take you for anyone but who you are.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you connect in a kiss, and Cody smiles as the tenseness in your body melts away just at the touch of his hand on the small of your back. He pulls you closer, up onto the bed with him. “I’ll always be here for you, love. No matter what. Hell, if they decommission me because of this, I’m not leaving you. They can try to ship my sheb back to Kamino but I am never leaving your side.” He closes his eyes and turns on his side, holding you as if you’re the air he needs to breathe. 

A smile crosses your face. “Well, I hope you don’t mind having a roomie for the foreseeable future because I am not leaving this room until you’re healed up.”

“Not even if I ask you to get us those burritos we love from that small little food stand in Level Seven?” Cody asks in a whiny, childlike voice and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, I will get you whatever you want, but then I’m coming right back. For now, though,” you manage to kick off your boots and snuggle down under the covers with him. “I just want to be with you. Feel you, knowing you’re alive.”

Cody’s hand moves to rub the back of your head, slowly and tenderly. “I’m alive. I’m right here, mesh’la. Just having you here… is better than anything.”

[true-north-equestrian]

TES Rescue & Rehabilitation Program

True North Equestrian

Week 1 (Pt. 1) - Miracle of Miracles

When Pidge signed up to be a part of the Rescue & Rehabilitation program, she'd been prepared for a lot of things.  Given this was her first rescue, she'd spent weeks researching and reaching out to others within the community for advice. She knew that this wouldn't be as heartwarming as the Buzzfeed videos liked to pretend - they could see anything from severe neglect to fear-based aggression, and recovery would take weeks if not months. She knew this. She'd committed to it. She'd stepped out to run a few errands, and figured she'd have time to get back to True North before the 'delivery'. When Oskar's name popped up on her phone, she just assumed the drivers just got there early and that her stable manager would get their new arrival settled. What Oskar said, though, made her heart stop. "Sweetheart, I need you to meet me at the vet right now. She's here, and- honey, it's not good." Pidge dropped her shopping and bolted.

Week 1 submission for the Rescue & Rehabilitation Program event at @theequestriansims <3

The drive to the vet took an eternity and yet, in the blink of an eye, she was there. Oskar's truck was already parked there, as was the delivery trailer. What was going on?

 She burst into the stable block and found Oskar waiting for her. Behind him, the vet and a group of techs swarmed one of the open stalls. At first, Pidge thought it was empty - and then she spotted the mud-caked legs of the saddest creature she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Pidge- Pidge, hon, look at me," Oskar said, and she tore her eyes away to look up at him. "She collapsed on the way in. The vet thinks she's got a raging infection of some kind. They're gonna try and get her up again, but- she's in really rough shape. She… We might need to prepare for the worst." Pidge hadn't even met her, but her heart was already breaking for the mare currently in that stall. Bless Oskar for trying to soften the blow, but it did nothing to alleviate the grief and fear gripping her throat in a vice. 

 She kept back, waiting anxiously as the vet and his team did his work. Finally, things began to settle down, and Doc turned towards her. He was an old man, wrinkles lining his face, but his mind was sharp and he was dedicated to his craft, and she knew he was doing all he could.

"We've got her stable, Pidge," Doc told her, "From what I can tell, she's got a massive infection. I've got her on antibiotics and painkillers, which should start kicking in pretty quick. She's got a hell of a gash on her knee, and her feet- in all my years, I haven't seen feet as bad as that." She'd known Doc all her life, and she'd never seen him look so grave. "Can't tell much more 'till the bloodwork comes back, but- this is gonna be touch and go." One gnarled hand settled on her shoulder. "Kid, I'm not gonna lie to you. It'll be a miracle if she lasts the night. We're gonna do our best, but- Well. It's up to her, now." "I'll stay the night," Pidge said, feeling numb. Her eyes drifted back to the mud-caked legs of her newest charge. "If… If she does go, I don't want her to be alone. I'll keep out of the way, I promise." "Okay," Doc said, nodding. There was no point in arguing with her. He moved off to talk to Oskar, probably about the logistics of everything. That was probably for the best - he was the one in charge of financials, anyways. Finally, finally, she got her first good look at the rescue. The poor thing was laid out on her side, legs akimbo. Her chest rose and fell, labored but steady. Her hooves were so overgrown that they'd started to bend backwards. She was covered in so much dirt that Pidge couldn't even tell what color she was. "Oh, baby," Pidge sighed. She edged around the stall, moving slowly, carefully, until she could sit by the poor mare's head. The mare didn't so much as twitch, as if she didn't even know Pidge was there. With a trembling hand, Pidge began to gently stroke her face.

 She didn't know quite what possessed her to start singing. Maybe it was her aching heart, longing to give comfort to a creature the world had failed. Maybe it was because it was because the mare was just so quiet, so lifeless. Or maybe it was because she was already hopelessly attached, despite the situation being so dire. The poor horse in front of her deserved kindness… even if it was the final kindness of a gentle lullaby. Everything was up to her now.

"Little bird, little Chavaleh, I don't understand what's happening today… Everything is all a blur…"

--- Doc was right about the long night. She wasn't quite sure when she dozed off, but the soft whuff of air across her face made her jerk awake with a half-aborted snore. Blearily, she looked up at the dark shape looming over her… and gasped "Oh my God-…!" The mare was on her feet. The mare had made it through the night. Not only that, the mare was looking at Pidge with cautious curiosity, as if she wasn't quite sure where this disheveled human had even come from.  Pidge scrambled to her knees and cautiously extended her hands. After one breathless moment, the mare leaned forward to press her nose into Pidge's palms. "I knew you could do it," She whispered to the mare, gazing into the rich brown eyes of the animal before her. "Little bird… Little Chavaleh…"

[crmsnmth]

Update/Note 4/25/2024

Hey, how goes it? So, September Sky is getting close to where I'm at in the editing process, so soon enough it will slow down on how often parts are being uploaded. Don't worry, I started posting it here, and I'll finish off the story here. Second, I've slowed down a bit on my attempts at poetry. This is just because well, life is life, and there's quite a bit to do this time of year. With work, my youngest brother graduating, and trying to find a place I can call my own (that won't push me back into being completely broke again), I just don't really have the energy. The writing hasn't stopped, because anyone that sees my thumbprints knows that this isn't just writing for attention and that my fingers on the keys, or wrapped around a pen, is a type of medicine for me that keeps me stable and able to face my emotions. There's still hundreds of notes in my doc app, and there's notebooks being chiseled in every single day. It's the idea of fixing them and rearranging lines and breaks that takes a lot of energy. Don't worry, there's an infinite supply always on its way. I couldn't stop if I tried. And finally, I'm going to be starting to add yet another fictional story I've been working on for going on three years, and I think I'm ready for it to start being seen by others. it's on its eighth draft, and if I don't start sharing it, it'll end up with 100 drafts, and as obsessively as I write, that's past the point of making it better and into making something mechanical. It's horror/dark romance, which probably shouldn't surprise anyone who enjoys or reads my work. Right now, it's under the working title "The Horror of Our Love" (which will be changed once I actually think of something better) which is actually the title of a Ludo song that is amazing, and one of those songs that means the world to me, mainly from where I first heard it, and who had posted it to an old Facebook wall. The whole inspiration for the story came from that song and being unreasonably angry at the Twilight series completely destroying and making fun of the vampire mythos. So, think Twilight, with more blood, gore, violence, and anger. Twilight for horror purists and a much more mature audience. Maybe if Edward had ripped out someone's throat, it'd would been more of my kind of story. (And if you happen to like the Twilight books, I'm not interested in changing your opinion of the series. Love what you love. Especially when it comes to art, music, and the written word. You're allowed to like and love whatever it is you find, and don't let anyone ever take that away from you. I still read the Animorphs series every so often. And I fucking love it. And Goosebumps too. And if you don't like Goosebumps, what the hell are you doing with your life?) If none of this stuff interests you in anyway, and your own here because it's fun to watch a train wreck of a human being crash and see inside the head of a delusional and depressed functioning adult, that's cool too. Hope you're getting you're psych research done. Just include my name in the footnotes please. I deserve some credit for being batshit insane, right? I think that's it for now. Have a good one. -Chris (crmsnmth)

[blackjackkent]

OK, it's Saturday, I have no plans, and that means I want to play a LOT of Baldur's Gate 3. XD Continuing the adventures of Hector's Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day.

As always, block "#bjk plays baldur's gate 3" if you aren't interested in my liveblogging shenanigans. :D

We left off having battled our way through the Nautiloid ship and teleporting it out of hell then getting forcibly ejected from it by debris as it was crashing in the material plane. Hector was pretty much convinced he was going to die in the fall...but some strange magic saved him at the last second and deposited him gently on the beach.

At which point he basically passed out because poor boy has had a Hard Day.

He wakes to the gritty taste of sand in his mouth.

For a moment he doesn't remember where he is or why - and then all the memory comes rushing back, and he looks around wildly, the terror of the previous night's ordeal clamping down at the base of his spine.

Where am I? What happened?

What do I do now?

Narrator: "As you wake, the tadpole squirms in your skull."

"NNnnnngghhhHAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He spasms, screams, clutches at his temple; now, in this moment of relative safety and with no safety valve of adrenaline, he allows all the panic to overwhelm him for a moment, eyes wide to the whites and heart pounding. He falls to his knees on the beach, gasping for breath, staring out blindly at the gently moving ocean.

It is a moment before he gets control of himself again. Gulping down air, finding purchase again on the sand. The panic recedes, the terror back down to a manageable level.

He had been making a journey down to the city from the monastery for supplies. A common thing, and about the furthest out into the world that he and the other monks ever venture. But then the ship came out of the clouds, that huge monster of a thing, and one of those tentacles grabbed him and, and...

And now he is here. He doesn't know where here is. He doesn't know what is happening or how he will get this thing out of his head. He doesn't even know where the companions he found briefly on the Nautiloid ended up.

He is alone.

Finally, he is calm again, and feels a little more stable having taken the moment of collapse. He reaches behind him and grabs the quarterstaff, tightly gripping it with a sense of comfort. I can do this, he thinks. Probably. Just...take it one step at a time.

Check yourself for injuries.

Narrator: "Other than the infection, you're more or less intact. A miracle, given everything you've been through. But it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon. The tadpole is a death sentence, and the clock is ticking. You need a cure."

"Right," he says aloud, to no one in particular, squaring his shoulders with determination. "Let's...go find help, then."

[samv73]

Scenario: raising a child with them

Includes: Toby, Jack, Noah, Oliver, Sam, Conny, River, Axel, Alex, Jay, Nyx.

Toby

Funny enough, he's actually an amazing dad. Definitely a bit too overprotective, but besides that he's not the worst out of this list. He knows how it feels to be alone and unloved, so he makes sure his kid knows that they're loved no matter what.

If the child is biologically yours, He'd constantly point out any similarities he shares them them like their eyes or nose. This little kid probably won't grow up to be like their dad, in fact they'd probably grow up to be something like Conny.

Jack

Well....He has some unworked issues that accidentally leak into his parenting. Jack has been through multiple types of absolute hell ever since he was young, leading to him holding the belief that life is just cruel to children. He's overprotective and constantly tells his kid that people can't be trusted, which leads the kid to have a grey moral compass in the future because they begin to believe that people are just born evil.

Jack's kid would most likely grow up to be the new Toby.

Noah

He's such a gentle father specifically because he doesn't want to scare his child with his "differences". If the child is biologically his and turns out to have gotten some of his clawed genetics he may just openly start crying.

His kid turns out to be the kindest person you'd ever know. They believe that everyone, even infected, have the chance to be good. That view was made because of their wonderful infected father. They turn out sort of like Axel, sweet but awkward to an extent.

Oliver

You'd have to be the role model here, Oliver is way too set in his strange (and slightly cruel) ways to be a kind father. He'd try to raise your kid like they're a soldier because that's how he was raised in the district and he turned out 'fine'.

If Oliver has an influence in his child's life then they might end up being a stricter or more pissy version of him. Imagine Oliver with Alex's temper, that'd be your kid. That said, please do not let Oliver do this.

Sam

When he realized that he had a kid, he panicked and had the three of you flee to an abandoned farm while the kid was really small...he was really afraid of other people hurting his little baby. The sweet boy would constantly be emotional about everything your child does. Talking? He's crying. Walking? Poor Sam is sobbing in joy. He has a big influence on his kid because he's open about his thoughts and emotions to them.

Your kid ends up being the most mentally stable of them all, not really resembling the group that much because they didn't go through any type of trauma throughout their adolescent life and continued to stay at the farm for a while. You watched your child grow up, and even when they left the farm they eventually came back with their own spouse and child. You, Sam, your child, and your child's family all live out a peaceful and happy life.

Conny

Oh the dad jokes....

But on a more serious note, Conny would actually be such a sweet and thoughtful father. He wants his kid to understand how to survive without mixing survival with sociopathy-like actions. Your kid learns from a really young age about your group and the mistakes they all made back then.

Your kid basically grows up to be another Conny, hiding their knowledge of the world around them with puns while still surviving better than most people ever could. Conny is a proud dad.

River

I'm saying this right now, if your kid is biologically theirs then it'll look like them. They have 5 siblings and a pair of twins and all of them are almost exactly alike, both in appearance and personality. River's genetics will definitely show in the kid and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. River teaches your kid about lots of things, mostly how to use a wide range of weapons and how to do a perfect lie.

Again, the kid grows up to be a near spitting image of their parent. They have River's lessons in their mind and River's cocky smirk on their face. They basically end up being a copy paste of their cocky parent, but thanks to you they might know when to halt the bullshit...or maybe not, maybe they're just twice the chaos River was.

Axel

He has absolutely no idea how to raise a kid, but he'll do his damnedest. He ends up just dumping all the knowledge he has about medical stuff or just random facts. Your kid will be well taught, but in the weirdest subjects.

Your kid will probably grow up to be a less awkward version of Axel since they'll probably not have the forced dependency trauma that Axel grew up with. In fact, Axel might end up enforcing a sense of independence in them.

Alex

I have several questions. Mostly...why Alex?

This man is far too overprotective and overbearing, he acts like your child is someone that will just flop over and die if they even look outside a window. This fear is probably the same fear Alex had with his twin brother, meaning he's creating the same toxic relationship with his kid that he forced onto Axel.

Your poor kid will grow up resenting their father. They never really got survival skills due to Alex refusing to let them have a means of independence (due to Axel getting independence and immediately "leaving" Alex), meaning they don't know how to fight or even socialize correctly. They end up running away just to get away from the house they were trapped in for their entire life. They probably died to one of the dead, but you'll never know.

Jay

She is a wonderful mother who actually does not have any trauma to project onto her child. They grow up learning both English and French, so you live in a bilingual family. Jay loves teaching your child and understands the concept of gentle parenting better than most.

Your child will grow up to be like a calmer version of Conny. Careless, yet understanding that the world is shit. Unfortunately for you Jay has a relatively permissive parenting style, meaning you have to be the bad guy in a lot of situations to keep your kid from getting into dangerous situations just because Jay doesn't have a good sense of self preservation for her or her kid.

Nyx

It would be like raising a kid with your best friend. He'd definitely be the type of dad to cackle about how fucking creepy newborns look or accidentally cover the baby in baby powder while trying to change them. He wants to be a friend to the kid, but he knows he has to be a tough parent at times too.

Your kid grows up humble and cocky at the same time, they switch from being the kindest soul to the most annoying little gremlin ever in an unbelievably short amount of time. Nyx couldn't be prouder. Your kid probably grows up to be another groups version of Conny or Jack...again, Nyx is a proud dad.

[lettingtimepass]

In honor of 6 years of Infinity War and 5 years of Endgame, it's time....

It's FINALLY time for my back-to-back rewatch. I did some digging and I haven't watched Infinity War since May 2021, and I haven't watched Endgame since DECEMBER 2019. WHAT THE HELL???

So, yeah watch this space!!

--

Infinity War Rewatch

Gawd, I don't know if the beginning it going to hurt more or less knowing what happens to Loki....

They did Heimdall so dirty idc

MY BABYGIRL 😭😭😭 (OG Loki)

Loki saying "We have a hulk" means so much to meeee 😭

"IF I MIGHT INTERJECT" BITCH YOU MIGHT HAVE LIVED!!!

The fact that Thor's last words to Loki were "You really are the worst, Brother" probably haunted Thor for so long, and that HURTS.

I will say one of the best things to come out of the Loki series is that all the theories we had about Loki faking his death and actually being alive were actually validated! Yes, Sacred Timeline Loki died, but there was a version that tricked Thanos and lived.

Tony said "no more surprises" to Pepper and then he was in space for weeks/months (can't remember exactly) and came back nearly dead - You get why he fucked off for 5 years.

THE STANNER HUG, PEOPLE DIED.

Tony and Cap "we're not on speaking terms" but he apparently carried the flip phone everywhere for two years? 🥲

STAN LEE 😭😭 We miss you sir.

I wonder if Chris Pratt's downfall actually started with Peter Quill screwing up everything in this movie 😭🤣

I will say, I really enjoy that at least the beginning of IW has a lot of comic relief. I feel like Endgame was more serious overall.

Man I can't remember, how did any of the Asgardians survive Thanos' attack?

BEARDED CAP - THE SEXIEST A MAN HAS EVER LOOKED!!

NATASHA ROMANOFF I LOVE YOU!

"There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" I love you Bruce.

The couple parallels? Stange+Stark and Thor+Quill with battling egos, Quill+Gamora and Wanda+Vision both trying to self-sacrifice with the other not wanting to give them up.

Chris H truly gave such a great performance as heartbroken Thor 🥺

"Does it have a name?" "Stormbreaker." "It's a bit much."

"Kick names, take ass."

The gasp when Red Skull came back!!

Cap says we're going "home" but Sam implies that they haven't been to Wakanda. For Cap, "home" meant Bucky 🥺

"SEMI-STABLE 100 YEAR OLD MAN" Buckkyyy

There's definitely something sweet about Bruce being in the Hulk Buster!

"It'll kill you." "Only if I die!" "Yes, that's what... killing you means...." NEVER NOT FUNNY

I mean, Strombreaker being made out of fucking Groot is pretty badass.

THOR'S ENTRANCE!!! BITCH HE LIVED!!!!

"She's not alone." I don't care if it's cringe, I love a girl power moment!! It shows how far we've come!! There no longer just has to be one girl superhero!!

Thor my golden boy, you were so close 😭😭😭

HERE IT COMES...... I'll never forget the gasps in the theater when everyone started dusting....

And now after watching GOTG3 it's so much worse that Groot goes in front of Rocket 😭

Tony and Nebula being the last survivors was inspired.

Me: What was the post credit scene again? Ohhhh yeahhhh, the Captain Marvel teaser! Of course.

And thats Infinity War! I'll be back tomorrow for Endgame! 🖤🖤

Endgame Rewatch

CLINT I MISSED YOU!!!

Lila could have been the next Hawkeye if she hadn't been dusted 🥲

Tony and Nebula 😭😭😭

Tony working with Nebula to save them mirroring Tony building Iron Man in the cave to save himself 😭

Steve Rodgers: From "language" to "son of a bitch" MY BOY HAS GROWN

GAY JOE RUSSO!!

Don't get me started on bringing back Peggy DON'T GET ME STARTED 😤

And DON'T get me started on the symbolism of Nat's hair!! In each movie, she has perfectly intentional hair. Except now that they've lost their mission, he lets her hair grow out. She can't let go of the blonde. The blonde that reminds her what they're fighting for. Of her failure, but also for the last time she saw everyone. The last time things were normal.

The rat being the savior of the universe!

Dad Tony 😭 I'm kinda surprised Morgan hasn't made another appearance yet. Maybe when she's a bit older...

Time Heist!!!

Remember when I was afraid that them traveling in time would mess up the timeline and make it so Morgan wasn't born? God that would've been rough.

I love that now the kids love Hulk though 🥹 "Dab!" He deserves this!!

Man, Pepper and Tony really love each other so much 🥺 Peper knew Tony might not make it back. But she also knew Tony wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

Oh no, how did I forget about Bruce and Rocket going to get Thor? 😭

The Russos were so sick for making Thor's trauma a joke. However I kinda understand why they did it because otherwise it would have been WAY too dark.

The amount of regret Clint must have felt after Nat died and he realized he could have spent the last five years with her and chose not to.

Scott being the only one invested in Thor's story 😭

The elevator scene!!! "Hail Hydra" everyone was GAGGED!!!

There goes my baby girl to meet the love of his life 🥹 (Loki stealing the cube)

Thor's smile when he gets Mjnolnir 🥹 "I'm still worthy." Yes you are ❤️

"Make love, not war!" ✌️

Ugh, the double Nebula thing is really annoying. I guess they had to do it to get Thanos in the mix but ehhh.

THE OG BIG THREE!!! And Thor's transformation with Mjnolnir and Stormbreaker! So badass!

When Strange signals ☝️ to Tony, is he saying Carol was their one chance to win, or was he just telling Tony, this is it?

The fact that Peter basically became an Avenger and then lost Tony in one day 😭

The fact that Chadwick was sick when they were filming these movies kills me 😥

Happy taking care of Morgan 😭😭

I still love that they brought Harley back 🥹

Bucky knew Steve wasn't gonna come back. He knew he was gonna choose Peggy over him 💔

"No, I don't think I will" - I wonder if they knew this line would become a meme hahaha

So, did past Steve and Peggy have kids? This feels like it could be a potential plot point.

MY FAVORITE END CREDITS!! I still tear up every time 🥺 The Original 6 just mean so much to me 😭

Also I noticed for Tom Hiddleston's clip they chose Prince Loki in his golden horns, not villain Loki. That's a nice touch. 💚

And there ends an era. Are there things that annoyed me? Yes, but overall I still feel like it was a solid ending for Tony and Cap (and Natasha but we got the Black Widow movie after).

[ambrosialdesire]

this is my silly lil thought but what if reiners like reader was having like complications with pregnancy?

oooo this is an interesting thought anon!

reiner loves reader more than anything in the world so he'd care for her more than the baby if it is determined to be a risk/danger to her life. he can have another child but he can't — and won't — ever have another you.

if we're talking about s4/cacoëthes reiner and you unfortunately passed from childbirth, it'll be his last straw and he'd definitely won't be capable to take care of your child alone, he'd be a complete and utter mess without you (basically canonically him in s4 tbh 💀) and he really couldn't be there for the child as much as possible. the child would become a haunting remnant of you (they have your eyes, your hair, the way their smile is exactly like yours) and as much as he didn't want to become like his father and neglect his fatherly duties, he unfortunately turns that way. reiner's not like verbally abusive or has ever blamed the child for taking away the love of his life, he's just super distant (esp cause now he's off going on wars constantly to distract himself + the limited amount of time he has left with his Titan inheritance) and his mother takes on most of the care for the child. it's better to be not so attached if he's going to die soon. he'd definitely be at his limit, biding his time until he can finally see you again in the next world.

BUT if we're talking about modern au reiner, this man is more capable of being a single father than his s4 self. he'd never remarry of course, his heart is dedicated to you always, but i feel like he's more mentally stable in the modern world. like yeah, he has times where he feels like he's better off dead but he'd be damned to hell if he doesn't take care of the child that you left behind, the only piece of you he has left. don't get me wrong, s4/cacoëthes reiner does share affection for his child but he can't look them in the eye and not feel completely devastated over you all over again. for him, that's the safest way for him to care for his child because he knows that he'll endanger them in some way. but modern au reiner can get therapy and manage his mental turmoil and anguish better than s4/cacoëthes reiner so he can actually care for his child without being neglectful 💀

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Garnets 09 Domestic

[Ao3] [ffnet] full chapter in links

It was surprisingly quiet in the Fortress. Lily was not aware how used to she was living on the ocean, the feel and sounds, until the constant vibration stopped. It was still, stable and quiet. Almost alarmingly so before Lily remembered that Riggs could play music. There was now something always on in the garden-greenhouse level that was Lily's new home area. Nothing offensive or really loud, but low music and nature sounds in the garden proper.

It helped immensely to keep that stillness, and in turn the intrusive thoughts at bay.

Not so much with the restlessness though.

Even with how Lily had been slowed down by the apocalypse, she had still been mostly active on the sea platform. The walk up to the galley was a good low impact… mess hall? Just a kitchen?

What was the proper term to use in regards to a space born, castle like Fortress of… doom?

Even if Lily had to take it slow in her walks and take breaks, it was really nice that she could more or less breathe again. Not be so dependent on the mask and tank of meds and pure oxygen. Not that Lily had that set up right now, but a new mask was being made for her. Vega had the information on the medication mix and was sure he could improve it. Or improve the dispenser?

Who knew being drowned in healthy would work?

Lily only partly forgave the big guy for that.

"Riggs- wait I'm out of that section, Vega?" Lily asked as she walked, still getting used to the layout of what areas of the Fortress that were open.

"Yes, miss Lily?" The AI was prompt to answer, sometimes it seemed like he was happy to have someone else who actually not only talked to him, but also needed to keep asking random questions.

"I'm on the right track to the galley?" Lily asked, glancing down the sling her right arm was in, as well as the stuff she had put in there. Still impressed how whatever painkiller that was used kept that whole shoulder numb for a little over a day. At first Lily had been wary as the massive man held her arm and pricked the needle in her right arm the first time.

She was learning despite the Slayer's bulk, he was surprisingly gentle and nimble with his fingers.

"Yes you are, stay in this hall. It'll be to your left."

"Question for you," Lily gave in.

"Yes?"

"Is it a 'galley,' or something else the proper term?"

"Either galley, kitchen or mess hall. The terms will work interchangeably," Vega helpfully supplied. "Except for the kitchen proper. Are you going to be making something with the fish you thawed out?"

"Yeah," Lily smiled, carefully pulling out the squash out of the sling to lift and show the AI, assuming there were cameras he could see even if she was able to spot them all yet. "Got my first big spaghetti squash to harvest! I'm going to make something tasty."

"I can not wait to see the result." Vega was nice how he was encouraging all the time.

"I have another question," Lily paused to catch her breath, leaning on the wall while putting the squash back in her center of gravity. "Does…. Does the big guy ever eat? I know I'm not around him a lot the last few days. Or well, when in the… stasis pod. I don't think I've seen him eat or drink."

"He is capable of eating, but does not seem to need to do so nearly as much as you would think someone of his mass would." Vega understood her confusion completely it seemed. "I believe it's due to the amount of Argent energy, hell energy and wraith energy saturation the Slayer has."

"Does he hydrate?" Lily asked, confused.

"Oh yes. The Slayer is very good about staying hydrated." Vega assured, leaving out that the man had to, to keep up with the blood loss sometimes.

"If I made a plate for him, would he come eat?" Lily was back to walking, finding what was a mess hall, a long dining room like area, as it was currently this was the only way to get into the kitchen proper. She was not sure where the Slayer was to be honest. He had gone planet side a day ago to look for something, and Vega had warned her that sometimes the missions were anywhere from a few hours to forty eight hours. 'At least.'

There was a new addition in the kitchen, making Lily smile as she saw the step by one of the back counters. She nudged it, finding the boxy step was solid but not so heavy she could not scoot it around.

Some things were fairly universal in kitchens though, between humans and those that made the Fortress. Argenta?

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #25:

Stephen Stills' Manassas

Okay, I'm afraid it's finally time to listen to some Stephen Stills. As I've previously mentioned, my famous brother claims that Manassas is Stills' masterpiece and that after listening to it I'll make a pilgrimage to the shrine of all things Stephen, make penance on bended knee and then be forced to invent a new villain for this blog.

But I refuse to believe it. First of all, excoriating Stills makes me happy, so why would I ever stop doing so? All the other potential villains I can think of are fictional beings (you know, Sauran, the Ewoks), or are actually evil and therefore not fun making fun of (you know, Putin, Trump) or are too obscure to continually mock (Danny Kortchmire, destroyer of potentially great records by Neil Young, Linda Ronstadt, Don Hendley and Carole King, comes to mind).

But it's not fair to not give poor Steve, and my famous brother, a chance: objectivity rules in the Dollar Bin, yes? And so I must submit to my famous brother's advice and, as George Michael instructs me, listen without prejudice to Stills' double album of dog droppings.

So, let's do this: Manassas, Stills' substitute-supergroup-screw-you to C,N and Y from 72 (C, N and Y collectively shrugged and made better music without Stills). Someone get me about 16 beers and a punching bag so as to periodically take out my anger.

Song of Love opens Side 1 and, despite the fact that Neil Young probably has sixteen different unreleased songs coming out on Archives 7 in 2048 with that same sucky name, this song doesn't suck as much as we expect it to, at least at first.

Stills doesn't sound too much like a dope as he opens his pie hole to honor Song of Love's lousy lyrics, and there's space in the mix for the keyboards, bass and drums to hold their own. But then we get to the guitar solo, which could be pretty sweet - after all there's a worthwhile surprise in it as Stills unexpectedly climbs the flagpole of his own enormous ego then greases his way back to down in a flourish - but in Stills' coked-up, record mixing, hands his solo glides around the stereo space: check me out! Stills brags; I'm in your right ear now; but watch while I slide the mix over the right side - and back again! Hey everyone, Stephen brags, I learned how to spin a dial: aren't I a very stable genius?

Even so, if the rest of Manassas is as good as this song, I'm gonna have to eat some meaty crow dropped by an Amazon drone. It'll be yet another gift from my famous brother.

Next up, after a pretentiously teensy song gap, comes a song called Rock and Roll Crazies. Nice title, Stills. Come to think of it, all his titles on this record suck (seriously: there's a song called Blues Man; another is called The Love Gangster. Someone Get Me a Bucket is not a song title from the record, rather it's a request I am now making because I already need something to puke in. Apparently there is no Stills' penned number on this album entitled I'm A Giant Dickhead; that must be an outtake.)

This song sucks. Stills is dispensing advice on how to avoid being stuck up should you become, like him, a Rock and Roll God; meanwhile his rhythm section, led by the from-this-point-forward forever intolerable Joe Lala, justifies its existence by beating on its entire wall of cowbells at once. I'm a devoted pacifist. And yet I already want to punch Stills in the face.

But it gets worse! Rock and Roll Crazies is apparently part one in a medley of musical torture. After covering us with peanut butter and inviting over a whole school of starving rats in Rock and Roll Crazies, Stills crushes us into jelly with an elephant ass called Cuban Bluegrass. 51 years later Cubans everywhere are still shaking their fists at Stills in rage.

And then it gets even worse! What circle of hell are we now in? This thing claims to be a three part medley but there are at least 7 different jams stacked up. Imagine Guided By Voices's Alien Lanes reissued as a double album, but the never before heard Sides 3 and 4 completely undercut every wonderful bit of the frantic, drunken, homemade colleague that is the original record. That's what's happening in my ears. Stills apparently spent days and days in the studio making this crap up without ever sleeping. I wish he'd taken a goddamn nap.

Currently he's telling me he is part of the Jet Set. It sounds like everyone in the band has their shirt off and is flexing while hired ladies shave their chests and pay them false compliments. I don't own any Jimmy Buffet records dedicated entirely to covering Santana because this is what I imagine them sounding like.

At the end of Side 1 the bongos go nuts and there's actually some pretty cool guitar and keyboard in Anyway and especially in the somewhat hummable Both of Us. Someone/s other than Stills sings too, which is a relief. Much of the time it's probably Chris Hillman, who, after giving up on Gram Parsons, made a career of riding the coattails of increasingly annoying people, from Stills to Crosby to disco era McGuinn. Joe Lala owes me an apology for everything that's happened in this experience so far. Stephen Stills owes me another beer. Go get it Steve!

Before we flip to Side 2 I want to introduce a few big picture reasons why all of us should hate this record/band/Stephen Stills. Many more will follow later in the post and for as long as I continue to write this nonsense:

Stills claims credit for his "compositions" on this record. Dude, you made this swaggering nonsense up on the spot, and then made us listen to it. You didn't "compose" anything. I teach English for a living, so here, Steve, is an example of a composition: Dear Stephen Still, You Suck. Sincerely, The Dollar Bin. Now, someone, take away Stevie's composer baton before he accidentally puts out Joe Lala's eye.

There is no clear order of the sides. The records (remember, this is a double album, so get comfortable as I probably have 6,000 more words of anger left to spill before this is over) say that Song of Love opens Side 1, but the back of the cover says that's the start of Side 3; the inside gatefold muddles things even further. But who am I kidding, no one really gives a flying fugelhorn, because I'm the only person on earth who currently listens to this record. But still, Dear Stills, decide on a song order and stick to it. Or tempt my wrath further!

And what's the name of this band anyway? Stephen Stills is on the spine. Manassas is the name of the album. But that's the band's name too. What the hell is happening here? And who let Stills name his band after a Confederate victory? If there's a statue of Stills anywhere on earth it too needs to come down, pronto.

Okay, it's time to listen, with a very open and marginally sober mind, to Side 2.

Fallen Eagle opens. But wait. I should note before I go any further that all of Side 1 had its own subtitle, The Raven. Aside from pretension, there is absolutely no explanation or excuse for this title, let alone any title, for what we just sat through on Side 1. As near as I could tell the songs were about either nothing or about being a rock and roll star. I trust that Edgar Allen Poe's descendants sued Stills' ass.

But where were we? Ah yes, Side 2. This one gets an equally pretentious subtitle, The Wilderness. Apparently Stills wants us to travel with him into the country, where he will reveal his mastery of yet another musical form. We're down home with Stills and crew now. There are nutty fiddles and more dull lyrics. Yee-haw.

Next up Stills has thoughts on Jesus Christ. Jesus, he tells us, Gave His Love Away For Free. Thanks for the homily Father Steve. The piano here is lovely though. There is a piano player in the band, Paul Harris, but Stills lists himself as another pianist generally so we never know who's responsible for any given note. This is reason #648 for why I hate this crap.

The third song is one of Stills' best: I admit it, he has a few good songs. But that does not lose me the bet, not by a mile, famous brother. But I'll play nice and let you all give a listen to the first thing on this record that's worth your time, Colorado.

All the vocals are tasteful, the piano and steel guitar are lovely. But is it the best song with that title from this era? Of course not! Everything one of the six good things Stills has ever done is second fiddle to all the truly good things in life. So, let's take a deep breath here and listen to Linda Ronstadt's Colorado instead:

Wow, that was a nice break. Back to work:

The song that follows Stills' Colorado, So Begins the Task, is also perfectly nice; indeed it's pretty good. Both songs would have been reasonable inclusions on Deja Vu. The fact that Stills was capable of making music this straight-forwardly enjoyable but chose instead to write songs like Rock and Roll Crazies is making me crazy.

The fiddles return for the side's fourth track, Hide it So Deep. This song is not as good as the previous two songs, but it's not atrocious . If someone were singing this at a farmer's market with their case open for tips I'd give them a buck and a nod, but I wouldn't stick around.

The Wilderness wraps up with what sounds like an International Submarine Band outtake, Don't Look at My Shadow. Stills returns to his favorite lyrical topic: describing how hard it is being as famously awesome as he is. I guess that's why he understands Jesus...

Anyway, Stevie Nonwonder wants us to know that after playing for 20k adoring LA fans a handsome man like him craves a little me-time. Poor Steve, it's such a hard life he has as a young, physically fit, white, male celebrity. Don't worry Stevie, we won't look at your shadow, or you, ever again as soon as this record is over.

Here at the 1/2 way point I want to complain about the album's lousy aesthetics. The album's two pull out sleeves have identical photos of Stills on all four sides. Steve, if you wanna be a big deal 70's artist and splurge for sleeves that aren't blank, or are adverts for other artists on the label, or that encourage us to send $1.99 for Loss Leader collections, then use your investment to make your record cooler. Please ask Neil Young to show you his pull outs for Live Rust as a sweet example, Steve. (And please note, dear George Lucas, who I'm sure is among my legion of followers, those are Roadeyes, not Jawas, on stage with Neil; there is no connection whatsoever between the two hooded beings, at least according to Young and his legal representatives.)

Thanks for checking in with Neil on how to do pull out sleeves right Steve-O. And while you're at it, please tell Neil that I'm sorry I spent a whole afternoon listening to your music instead of his.

But there are more complaints to be registered about the pull out's. Stills's two Manassas sleeves a) have an identical bad concert photo of Steve on all four sides and b) that bad photo is a straight up rip off image from Dylan's cover from Greatest Hits Volume 2, which had come out six months earlier. Proof displayed:

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen: you are not, and have never been, a peer to Dylan. If you're looking for a peer, track down my old next door neighbor Ken. His front yard was full of broken toilets.

Stills could have put his "supergroup" bandmates on these pull outs or given us something interesting to look at, like, for example, every one of Stills' guitars and football jerseys in a beautifully flaming heap, or Stills' cat giving him a dirty look. But instead he uses the pull outs as further proof of his own suckyness.

(A quick note on the term "Supergroup": adding Chis Hillman and Joe Lala to his lineup does not qualify Stills' group to supergroup status. Supergroups do indeed exist. The Traveling Wilburies come to mind, as does Yo La Tengo, or, say, The Beatles; each is made up of people who could be a huge deal on their own but set aside their egos (at least for a moment) to elevate one another as equals. My famous brother is in an actual Supergroup as we speak. When he records his next record with me, Fuzzy Samuels and Stills my famous brother will not call it a Supergroup; he'll call it a pity project.)

Don't pawn the record's artistic ineptitude off onto someone else: alongside every other credit he dreams up for himself on this record Steve also says he's the Art Department. Every photo on the entire album, except, incongruously, two little shots of his, surely furious, engineers, are out of focus, lame and self-obsessed. Stills is as bad at making art as he is at making music.

Okay, Side 3 is called Consider. I'm considering the use of a lot of four letter words I swore I'd never use in this blog at this point; Stills is busy trembling in his Velveeta Castle (which is surely Steve's favorite kinda cheese), sure I will at last hurl such invectives at him.

It Doesn't Matter is better than the average Stills track, and once again there's pretty good guitar solo, but saying "better than the average Stills track" is like saying better than my average episode of flatulence.

I've already spent time on the second song, Johnny's Garden, and unlike Stills, I'm not a plagiarist, even of my own writing, so go reread my recent Ringo piece if you really want to hear my analysis a Stills song that rhymes "shine my shoes" with "singin' the blues." The song does have some nice guitar picking, I guess. Steve's probably better than me at picking... his nose. Ha! Even my humor is currently descending down to Stills' level at this point. Next thing you know I'll be claiming responsibility for my own art department.

Bound to Fall is a cool change of pace. Stills didn't write it or sing it, so that helps. And there's a sweet Moog thing going on. Stills takes credit for playing the Moog, of course. He's probably telling someone right now that he invented the internet too.

How Far... Move Around... do you really need me to write about these songs? They're fine: Stills sings about nothing and everyone knows how to play their assigned instrument. Move Around is actually sorta pretty with the Moog again swerving about. I hope I never hear either of these songs ever again.

But we've gotta spend a moment on The Love Gangster, which ends Side 3. The perpetually grumpy Bill Wyman, bass player for the Stones, showed up to help write it. Stills and Wyman are great peers for one another: both were forever whining about having to share the stage with bandmates who made them look special (Neil Young and Jagger/Richards, respectively). Plus, both Stills and Wyman eventually ditched their masterful peers, sure that their solo greatness would be instantly recognized, George Harrison style. But instead, to no one's surprise except their own, both men sucked solo. Both dudes are still with us; they should start a band. Eric Clapton could play lead guitar, Stan Lynch would handle drums. They could open for Jay Farrar. We'd call the whole thing Comeuppance.

The Love Gangster, in case you care, is a wandering mess. Whoever sings with Stills (it's gotta by Joe Lala) is an even more atrocious singer than he is. Thanks for stopping by and making this all even worse Wyman!

And while we are on the subject of Wyman, we need to just stop everything for a moment and read this excerpt from his Wikipedia page. Feel free to drop your jaw in advance:

In 1993, Wyman's son Stephen Wyman married Patsy Smith, the 46-year-old mother of Bill's ex-wife Mandy Smith (with whom Wyman had begun a sexual relationship a few years before, when she was 14 and he was 48; they eventually married, then divorced). Stephen was 30 years old at the time. Therefore, the ex-Rolling Stone became his own son's ex-son-in-law, the father-in-law of his ex-mother-in-law, as well as the stepgrandfather of his ex-wife.

No, I did not make any of that up. Stills has had three wives, not to mention his affair with Rita Coolidge which led to the first of CSN&Y's many breakups, but none of his relationships were straight up criminal. Apparently we need to list Wyman alongside Trump in the "too evil to mock" category for this blog. And "The Love Gangster" must also be the non-tongue-in-cheek title of Wyman's biography. Let's not read it.

Ready for Side 4 of this monstrosity? It's called Rock & Roll Is Here To Stay and I'm frankly tempted to lie and say I listened to it already and just wind things up right here. But, like the poor lady in Julie and Julia who had to eventually cook all those gelatinous meat molds, I need to finish this terrible task.

Let's get Side 4 over with in one sentence shall we? What To Do is another piece of anthem rock crap; Right Now involves guitar slides that can surely only be performed while in spandex (Stills must have invented spandex too); The Treasure (Take One) may be better than takes 2-96 of the song and involve some sweet piano licks underneath the pomposity but it sounds like donkey testicles falling onto your dinner plate and involves wackachicka guitar moves a full five years before disco, plus the rhythm shifts make we wanna shift my own status to dead; and the last song is called Blues Man: Stills wrote it about himself and performs it solo so I'll just let you imagine the horror, the horror.

There, I did it: I listened to Manassas.

I'll see my famous brother next at Christmas. I'm already carving him a piece of coal in the shape of Still's terrifying goatee.

[nikageeee]

Don't mean to get too dark- who am I kidding. Dead dove used to be my gem. If this is too dark you don't have to answer this.

We all know Travis is reckless when it comes to his own safety and has self-destructive, downright suicidal tendency (handing Laura that shotgun when guilt got to him too much). Considering his history of parental abuse...(56 years holy mother of God...) how severe do you think his mental problem is? I see avoidant personality disorder so that's given. Depression? Drinking problem? (Descendant of bootleggers so maybe genetics envolved too) Anxiety? It'll be a struggle getting his ass to a therapy...

PSA Heavy topics involving mental health , abuse and suicide discussed** just incase these are topics you don’t want to see- so can scroll away dear reader!

It is a dark topic but an interesting discussion. I will clarify I’m by no means experienced or qualified to really say much on mental illness. Cause I don’t know an awful lot about them and I don’t feel it would be right for me to speculate on that.

Something I do see in Travis of course is anxiety and very depressive thoughts. As we know he’s a victim of narcissistic and (likely) physical abuse at the hands of his mother- I can imagine that’s had a huge impact on his mental health.

I like to imagine one of the happiest points in Travis’s life was when he attended police academy and was no longer living under his parents roof. Though that would become conflicting for him when he returns home. Imagine a very young Travis going to the city, being raised so strictly and sheltered.

He’d have needed so much coaxing to try much- most of which he would feel guilty over. He drinks. He smokes. He has sex for the first time (possibly paid for or a one night stand- god forbid if ma ever knew what he was doing with those ‘filthy city sluts’). He also realizes he can run his mouth all he wants without someone batting an eye.

He hated how stifled he felt by his parents turning up for graduation. Immediately boxed back up. His peers observing how his parents spell out his plans for him.

Essentially:

Oh good you can come home now. Work for North Kill Dpt. That’s what you want Travis, right?

And he supposes it is. They convince him he’s not built for city life. Convincing him again that his place is with his family. Shouldn’t he even be grateful they got Hank to pull some strings??

He loved his taste of independence, but he’s gaslit enough into believing he’s needed at home.

Our home needs protecting. Us Hackett’s have North Kill’s best interests in mind…

And he can’t lie. The idea of enforcing the law on people who previously looked down on him is so appealing. It serves the illusion of control.

When he moves home he insists on moving out- probably a tiny place (I decided on a little cabin in hunting grounds). again this serves the illusion of him having control. He still has to show up for Sunday dinners.

But for the most part he can control this space. Lives minimally. On small meals he can make from tins and if he can diner food.

Ma constantly in his ears about how much he dedicates to family. Home cooked meals can taste great, but forever associated with the hurt and nagging and constant expectations of where he should be in life.

By the time he’s made deputy he goes through a period of apathy. The void of emotion. Of feeling trapped. He picks up smoking for the first time since college.

He might think about how things would be if he just wasn’t around anymore. Signs of him struggling would just be met with frustration or dismissal.

Like his Ma seeing him disheveled and low and if she asks him what’s the matter... Well, it’s Constance. From her mouth it’s asked more like an accusation rather than out of concern for her eldest-

What’s a matter with you?

She’ll tell him he has no troubles- he has a stable job, a healthy family. He should be grateful. All he needs is to just look at Chris. He’s got his wife now. Baby on the way. Just meet a proper woman Travis.

But he knows no woman he chooses would ever good enough for Ma. The ideal woman she perceived for Travis sounds like hell to him quite frankly.

-From a distinguished or proper family. Houseproud. Will make proper meals in the kitchen. God loving.

-Will stay in good shape after 3 kids.

-Knows when to speak- no loudmouths.

-If she has a hobby like crochet or piano that’s great in my book.

Travis knows immediately she sees someone like her as a great fit for him. And he refuses to marry his mother- or someone easily manipulated into her image.

All he can do is drown his woes in the local bar at the weekend. He does not consider himself an alcoholic at this point. However, as the years go by things get more demanding and take an even greater toll on him.

After the fire things go to shit. The job situation I mentioned in a previous headcanon post. He’s spread thin. Alcoholism is debatable, but across those six years he will have moments of complete excess.

It’s harmless to keep some scotch under his desk right? Something that would have been unspeakable for him to do before now becomes a means to ease him down after a hard full moon or family arguement.

Having buried someone who he respected, dare I say, looked up to as a surrogate father. Having seen and heard people question the position of sheriff landing on his lap. It’s too much at times. But Jed didn’t raise to him to crack under pressure.

The thoughts of not being here come back again- but then he’d be so selfish if he did that right? He’d be the biggest let down to his own family…

Travis continues on, drinking and smoking and the late nights with a couple of silent tears here or there. Ones he can just swipe away and dismiss.

He will become a bit too used to disregarding his own emotions.

He bites back at people with passive aggression and an expression of steely ice. When he’s on his own he may even shed a silent tear or two. Purposely smash a few things in a mix of clumsiness and frustration. Ceramic mugs don’t last long at Travis’s.

It’s something Chris makes lighthearted jokes about.

‘Uncle Travis always needs more mugs for Christmas, Kaleigh.’

As if he’s just clumsy and heavy handed.

It hurts.

So tldr;

I think Travis would suffer from serious bouts of anxiety, depression, low self esteem and addictive tendencies. So pretty bad troughs.

Most of his peaks are just tastes of normalacy I think? Any higher moments he grows anxious that he is both undeserving and things are going to predictably dip luck wise for him.

He’d be prone to anger and frustration as his breaking point responses. At the other side absolute emotional numbness where all he can do is go through it all until he snaps again.

It’s a cycle of getting a bit better, then getting worse than the last time…

[inkdemon-whore]

i realized in general, i don't think i've ever even said my hc's about batim bendy until now kgcjr.... did i? gah, i don't remember, and i reblogged and cross tagged on my old blog, so my art and txt post for batim isn't too separate from reblogs

but i've always seen the demon and the ink as two different entities that ended up inhabiting the same body.

also, new hc, ink bendy bites/hurts himself to make the pipes in the studio burst. despite him feeling pain, he can't actually die. he's tried. (tw)

he snapped his own neck 180 once, and then the pain set in and he was screaming for hours, everyone in the studio heard it, but joey made shit up about it, saying "no no no, it's just the new machinery". the ink also wasn't exactly working the way it should, basically imitating the demons emotional state and turning every drawing into scribbles or horror drawings and many departments got flooded with ink.

no one could really help him because they where terrified it might try and kill them, so he just suffered for hours and everyone was forced to go home. the studio closed for about a week while gent was trying to clean up the mess and fix the pipes. for a while, things seemed alright, until demon bendy tried fixing his head, and snapping it back into place, then the chaos started again.

i'm sure after a while, if it did this over and over again, it would stop feeling pain, or at least endure the pain to such a degree that the silence in the studio that came from it was worth the suffering. this is probably cruel, but its head might end up being like lil bendy's after a while. ya know, the thing where you hit bendy in batdr and his head spins? yeah, it can do that now. the only reason it's even remotely stable is because the ink is binded to the demon, and keeps its form relatively stable.

another horrible idea. self cannibalism. or just it ripping off its own limbs. the only problem is the limb it ripped off turns into ink, and somehow finds its way back into its body, regenerating it rather quickly, and that's its own painful process. if it eats its own limbs, it regenerates much faster, as it doesn't need to travel back to the body through the ink.

the only way to kill the demon is to set it on fire. stuff like burning documents or film can also hurt it. if the ink on the page is aware that it's being burned, it'll react. it's ink bendy trying to get away from the flame, but the ink can hardly get off the page, sometimes dripping off. but typically not enough can escape, only a drop or two. more if he really squeezes/tries, which he does for things that have much more ink on them, so typically drawings. the characters will even react to the flame. it scares the hell out of the workers in the studio.

[myristicisms]

Tender touches were something he'd grown bereft of for years, unknown and unfamiliar yet not unwelcome. There's a comfort in those pale fingers resting atop his face, trailing the curves of his sharpened features; He wasn't the same youth as he had been when he'd left everything behind, while the world continued to spin onwards, Zack sat suspended in time yet not unaging. His spine ached with the difference in height, arms sore from sustaining muscle mass that certainly wasn't there when he'd first gone under and gums still sore from the way his teeth morphed within them.

Zack was not the same youth as he'd been when he'd said his last ‘ see ya later! ’ and yet that didn't seem to bother the brunette sat with him, still lovingly tracing his newer features as though nothing had changed. There's a hesitance in the touch though, the gloved fingertips never lingering too close to his throat, his chest, and for whatever reason that bothers the raven haired man. His condition is stable enough, he thinks it is anyways given how swiftly his energy was returning and how the dull ache of flesh mending itself back together was far less common than it had been when the Turks had first found him. There was no longer the ever present fear of suffocating on his own blood or worry about any organs failing and yet…

“ Do you want to see them? ” He mumbles softly, aqua eyes following the curious curl of Squall's lips before tugging away from the man, not bothering with waiting for an answer. He wants to feel comfortable in his own skin again, wants to feel like he's the strong man everyone once revered before he was taken away, deemed as dead and made into a doll, a puppet. Tawny fingers clutch near desperately at the black knit of his shirt, an overwhelming sense of shame flooding his mind as the fabric is pulled from his body and the damage he's hidden away so delicately becomes exposed to the chill of the room’s air. It's a constellation of marred flesh, silvery holes where each bullet lodged themselves speckling over once pristine tanned flesh.

He's grateful for them though, the ones that managed to drag attention away from the neat lines that once split him in half, memories of fear and sorrow permanently carved into his stomach to never fully fade away, a story that perhaps some day he'll tell; It'll be a joke by then, a distant memory he might be able to find amusement in, in some awful fucked up way as he recounts everything done to him in the name of science. For now though, those lighter, older markings are to remain a mystery closely guarded, ignored if possible at that. Lips curl upwards meekly, finally focusing his gaze back onto the other man with him in wonder, in fear.

Would Squall think him ugly now that he's seen him? Think he's a monster or beast for managing to take that much lead and still not kick the bucket? ( I would have, if they were any later. ) He thinks, bemused to an extent at the way everyone seemed to just welcome Zack back as though nothing had happened and he'd never left to begin with but he always noticed the way they looked at him, with pity and curiosity. He knows he looks and acts different, anyone else would after being sentenced to death, the fact he wasn't turned into Hojo was a miracle that he thanked Genesis's goddess for but it doesn't stop the stares from getting to him. “ So..? ”

The hesitance in his voice is clear as day, nerves clearly doing some sickening tango within the depths of his stomach and making him feel ill. “ Ugly, right? I was thinking of getting them covered up once the scars are a little older, flowers maybe? You don't gotta give an answer now but… ” What the hell is he doing, Zack wonders for a moment as words tumble past his lips stupidly. “ Would you design a tattoo for me? Flowers are your thing, and I like how you draw them, y'know? ”

A lil sumn sumn for Turk Squall | @grieverled

[prettyhighforawhiteguyblog]

Bad bliss

Bliss is not a bad thing. It is not an evil feeling or to be rejected. You ought to seek bliss and get it whenever you can in a healthy manner.

Bliss is a dangerous thing.

Have you ever tried heroin? Or a lot too much pain killers? (same things)

Holy Shit the bliss of painkillers are amazing! I've lived a lot and had a lot of amazing adventures and experiences in life. And the bliss of 12 oxycodone and a shot or 3 of whiskey is more heavenly than heaven.

You will never experience heroin-level bliss again.

Not in any other part of life, no matter how dear to you, important, satisfying, fun, or exciting it my be.

I married the love of my life. She's hotter than hell, we still embarrass our children, and it'll be 20 years this summer. I've 3 wonderful children and I am so proud of them for so many different reasons and they all love me back in their own weird ways, but I know whatever I might feel, they mean well. Even when the special needs PMG Warrior hits too hard. Or the autistic one can't get over your failure as a father to be invincible or to protect the family and forcing him to protect his mother and sister from his own seemingly possessed father. (I had a severe, severe break-down last summer after losing my religion. After spending a few months mulling it all over and seeing my baby girl reduced to a drooling seizure-ridden catatonic and then just to complete the picture, like Job I was covered in sores from head to toe.) I teach to the best students in the world and I am doing a lot of good while staying out of trouble. I love my life.

None of that has ever come near the bliss of oxycodone.

My life is all deeply, deeply satisfying. It is the source of deep, deep joy. I am more than sexually satisfied. I am surrounded by love and in a mostly stable environment.

It gives me so much more happiness than opiates ever even promised and we all know it can't deliver on any of it's promises for very long. My life and adventures and experiences and wealth of knowledge and hard-won understandings gives me so much more joy.

Life, even amongst the suffering, gives me so much satisfaction and pleasure and comfort and bliss of its own kind that has no equal in its quality. Even the suffering adds its own meaningful contribution that is kinda like got sauce for life. The suffering keeps it spicy. And I would never trade it for the bliss of opiates.

But the bliss of opiates dwarfs it all in magnitude of absolute bliss. While drowning out or deadening all the pain, trauma, memories, and other qualities that make our feelings so complex, interesting, and satisfying to feel (at some point in your life) and to explore.

The bliss of life's joys is satisfying in a way the bliss of opiates can never be. But the quality and magnitude of that of oxycodone bliss is beyond description!

It's like getting Lavazza at the airport after a life of gas station and diner coffee. Oxycodone was better than heaven.

And that is super dangerous. Once you've had the best, better ain't as good.

Enjoy spending the rest of your life with everything compared to that high.

It will drag you to hell just as sure as any demon or meth if you give it a chance.

You should still keep a reserve if you can. Never know when you are going to break a wrist or just burn your hand with bacon grease. They won't hand out painkillers for shit. Next thing you know we'll go full Germany and make Advil prescription only because pain is part of life. Of course that won't happen. It will stay OTC to save insurance companies money on the drugs we need the most often.

[themellowdeviant]

One of the hardest things that I've had to embrace in my life is that while I will be as healthy as I can be, I'm not going to be able to do most things ever again in my life.

The adage of you don't know what you had until you lose it, it generally rings very true for me. I'm not as scared as I used to be earlier on during this process.

Am I still very afraid of just randomly falling over and dropping dead from a heart attack? Yes I am. But, I do my best not to let that fear ever take precedence in my life.

My luck finally ran out when it came to my health. I genuinely didn't do myself any favors. All the late nights, all the injuries, all the booze, all the drugs, all of it. Throughout the entirety of my twenties I fucked up bad, and was involved with bad people and that made me even worse. Now being in the dawn of my thirties, having a stable job and a stable place to live, everything feels so different. I wish I could talk to me 10 years ago, at 20.

I wish I could tell that person to stop it. Stop trying to kill yourself. You have no idea what's coming, the good and the bad. Please stop. Be better for yourself, be better for the beautiful woman who takes you into her life.

I wish I could tell them everything. I wish they knew that the pain they felt inside will eventually stop.

I wish I could make them believe that everything would be all right.

-----

Currently, I have a diagnosis of we don't know. I completed many different blood tests, MRIs, x-rays, everything in between. Sadly, like my partner says, the human body is so infinitely complex that even though we can find fixes for a lot of things they're still a billion more that we don't know about. Unfortunately mine just so happens to be in that grouping of billion. What we know is that I have a ANA profile of 1:160, homogeneous staining. My white blood cell count and my platelet count are consistently elevated but not too an alarming rate. Tested negative for lupus, RA, s jorgens, and TB. I suffer from costochondritis, the inflammation of the connective tissues in your rib cage. Makes it feel like you're having a heart attack when it's at its worst. We also think that I am suffering from arthritis in both hip joints, lower back, both shoulders, and possibly within my rib cage. I also deal with fatigue issues, if I physically overdo it, my chest will immediately tighten up I'll begin wheezing, blood rushes in my ears and then I have to sit down immediately or else I get very light-headed. It is incredibly limiting.

We don't know if and when it'll go away, we're trying a combination of NSAIDS to see if we can manage my symptoms as best as we can.

Having a chronic illness like this drains my mental health as well. I feel bad about everything. I feel bad that I can't do as much as I can currently, but I'm trying.

Everything will be all right. My younger self didn't believe it then but I sure as hell believe it now. I'm too determined for it to not be all right and for me to not share the good life with my partner.

Everything will be all right.