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lyrepyre · 1 year

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""liveblogging"" the first 10mins of the newest tom scott :D

THIS IS A LONG POST (press J to skip post)

(liveblogging in the sense that its live but itll only be one post, i guess this is spoilers but its a tom scott video so not sure what i would spoil, i also know VERY LITTLE about the subject of the video so dont expect me to start making peer-reviewed opinions on the content, this is about the video not the telescope. GO WATCH THE VIDEO!!)

(when i mention tom scott or 'him' im probably talking about tom scott as a channel and not as a guy, a lot of work goes into these videos by multiple people)

starting off with the title. pretty normal for a modern tom scott although the asterisk is interesting, i cant remember the last time he's clarified in the title, normally when he makes a 'hyperbolic' claim he explains it within the first few seconds of the video (this is why people like to talk about how he always 'gets to the point'). i suppose you could say that him putting '(yet)' at the end of the explosion measure-rer video is similar but here it feels more like a "tom knows that this is pretty much wrong" instead of a "this is technically true and here's why". the thumbnail is also standard for modern tom scott, he's become more familiar with the modern youtube 'guy pointing at/admiring thing' format and here he does it again, with the subject of the video in the background as usual.

the first surprising part of the video for me is the length, HALF AN HOUR!!! every time tom makes a long video its normally one of his best (itll be alright on the night is my favourite and in my opinion the best tom scott video (yes i like it more than the video about the youtube sponsor video (the origin of the vape meme (its not actually a vape!)))). from the length alone i know that this is a video i'll enjoy and so i metaphorically grab popcorn etc

now the video actually starts! he starts with himself in protective gear which is standard for his videos (except from when he does the 'this isnt what i expected' preamble which:) he does! he clarifies the title (as usual with the pseudo-clickbait titles) and talks about how he prepared a script etc etc, for a long scott video this is surprising, these long videos take ages to make so if he throws out the script something is different. and then:

TITLECARD!!

a titlecard essentially screams that this video will be high-production and GOOD. seeing writing credits is especially nice, with recent videos we can see tom acknowledge that it isn't just him making these, with 'alright on the night' there was a long end credit and for years he's put credits at the end of his videos, but here it is at the start, with himself in the same typesize and on the same level as his editor and script assistant, with an awesome rotating drone shot around the telescope (i think i would prefer if it was a drone shot at sunset for continuity with the previous section, but obviously getting shots at any time of day he chooses would be infeasible)

sidenote to talk about the captions. tom gets a company to caption his videos for him (caption+ by js* the majority of the time but i wouldnt be surprised if for some videos he gets someone else to do it). the reason i brought up the captions is that for voice-over the captions are in italic, which gets annoying to read long sentences of (yes i know academic papers and whatnot but idrc!!), in other videos captions for sentences spoken directly from tom 'in scene' are normally prepended by a dash, and voiceover is given no formatting, or alternatively no formatting for voiceover and tom gets his own colour. this switchup isnt major but i think i would prefer if it wasnt in italic, as first reading the captions it made me wonder if there was some sort of special reason it was in italic except from simply being in voiceover, but it seems there isnt.

re: 'scientists love giving names to telescopes like that', seeing tom scott make jokes in his videos or at least add a bit of humour to them is always nice, sometimes i feel his videos have become a bit too corporate and i loved the old stuff where it felt more personal (please PLEASE a return of matt and tom's park bench), so hoping that more jokes/casual moments are in the video, maybe even a post-credits quip. however for subjects like this where these videos are likely to come up in professional/educational settings, i can see that it makes sense to actually keep things professional (think tom on computerphile/language files)

tom clarifying that the agencies had no editorial control is sort of a given with tom scott videos, but its nice for him to clarify. sometimes in the comments therell be some random who gets mad at tom getting paid to cover it and paint it in a good light or whatever so its good that he almost immediately clears it up.

the way tom scott shows road footage and explains how he found his way around the site/area (the latter pretty usual for an 'unscripted' video) reminds me heavily of cgp grey's video on the tekoi test range, although that video is more of a vlog, so i guess tom's video reminds me of a vlog? not sure if thats a good thing or not

the footage of him walking through the residence with pristine blue pools and deck chairs while the voiceover explicitly states that its not a hotel is very funny, although necessary because i can imagine someone with more money than sense seeing this footage and buying a plane ticket to this middle-of-nowhere site in the desert because they want to be 'with the stars'

speaking of!!: tom scott's pinned comment (as of day of release) is weirdly poetic, 'and the stars were beautiful' originally made me think that it was a quote from hitchhiker's or a poem, but a search showed that no, tom just knows how to paint stories in peoples minds (and thats amazing)

another sidenote to mention the camerawork! a lot of the subjects tom covers are set in places like urban europe or some business park in california or whatever (the switzerland ones seem to be an exception with tom going all out with the camerawork, see the shooting range, the village with no cars etc, why does tom like switzerland so much??) so when its set in a place that looks cool it really makes the video a lot more engaging and tbh more awesomer, i love the shot of the petrol station and the wide shots of the 'village'

the drone shot of the very large telescope is also great, with simple 1080p im surprised by the quality of the rocky surface, and with 4k it feels like a movie. tom then completely negates this with the most whiplash-inducing offcentre blurry zoom on the extremely large telescope, i understand he wanted to show the distance between the site and the telescope but i feel he couldve done better. he then (i think) reuses the rotating drone shot from the titlecard but i think its cool so i dont mind

also: tom is quite clearly filming the voiceover from either the uk or somewhere in europe or america, and it is painfully obvious that he was at home/in a hotel and went 'i need a nondescript place to shoot, this forest near me will do'. if i was good at geoguessing/osint/geocaching(?) i would find where this forest is but im not so the 'telescope voiceover forest' will forever be unknown :(

this video has chapters but im not going to pick up on them too much because its a long tom scott video, so of course therell be chapters. does make the video cooler though. what i will pick up on is the uv index sign, which i cant describe any more than it just 'fitting', theres this vibe around it that makes the quick succession of shots much better and i cant figure out why, maybe because its a clearly man-made thing among nature or because you have to pause and focus on what it is saying to read it, either way i like it.

..and theres the twist that explains the title. most tom scott videos with these sorts of titles will have a twist of some sort that isnt a complete lie but helps to "clarify" the truth, here it being that its actually multiple telescopes! (:O) these sorts of twists have become mainstays of toms content now so there really isnt much to say, other than that it was there i guess

moving on though we have the first interview (an actual mainstay of a tom scott video). again i cant say much about the content of the interview other than the fact that the interviewee is wearing an awesome hoodie, especially fitting for an astronomer. i can imagine him coming into work beaming that he gets to wear his space hoodie for his space job where he researches space. this man is GOALS. what i will say though is that the 8.2 metres wasn't converted to imperial, which is what tom normally does for measurements, so i'll be the saving grace and say that 8.2 metres = 968.50393701 barleycorn. thank me later. the interviewee's captions were in a different colour (yellow) which is standard, and makes it even funnier when the yellow switches to tom's white when he explains the mirror mistake.

tom making callbacks to previous videos is always nice, its something he's started quite recently, presumably with the channel slowing down, sort of a 'protagonist reflects on the adventures theyve had', it also appeals to people who have watched lots of tom scott (like myself >:])

something that happens when tom interviews a super-expert on a topic is when he rephrases something or observes something (here being the precision of the telescope) and the interviewee just sort of brushes it aside, with the interviewee affirming with what seems almost passive-agressive responses (here being the shortest 'yeah' ever). i get that tom phrases it like this for the viewers, or so that he can understand himself, but it must irk the expert when the guy interviewing you is surprised that optical telescopes have to be precise

tom's gopro skills have definitely improved over the years, but i think they may be too good now, as i can see toms finger trace the path between all of the points on the telescope. this is really cool but seeing toms finger in the corner of the screen with the narration makes it feel like an interactive cutscene in the last of us, i feel like i should have an option to pick whether to be nice or mean to tom.

i feel like ive mocked tom a bit too much so im going to instead compliment him on how good of an interviewer he is. the classic rephrase/observation that i mentioned earlier is a great way to ask questions that although he might know the answer to, the viewers might not and the content of the questions and the attention to detail is just great. whenever i have a question its less than 20 seconds later that tom makes an observation and the question is answered.

the pov at 8:36!!! again with the your choices matter rpg cutscene tom!! theres also another unconverted metric with 30cm and 60m but im not going to make the joke again (i think tom said in a q&a on the park bench that he may only convert imperial to metric and not vice versa? i looked for the clip and couldnt find it and also i wouldnt be able to include the barleycorn joke so whatever)

thats 10 minutes!! i was originally going to do the whole video but that might crash my browser and the video has less non-topic related things to pick up on. it also means that if you havent watched the video and for some weird reason you read this post you can watch the other 2/3 of it. if for some weirder reason you actually read me ramble about a tom scott video then good for you i guess?

#tom scott #long post

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lawluenvy · 1 year

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is there such thing as a paper-writing phobia??? like there are people out there with severe test taking anxiety (we call it an anxiety but it functions as a phobia in that with severe cases it induces panic attacks) and mine is pretty much that except it's papers- especially research papers and reports which are virtually the only papers you write in uni no matter what your area of study is which is why i cant just GO BACK even for an elementary teacher's degree and most certainly not for a masters in my bachelor's field because 1. i hate the academic establishment and the only good masters and phds in arts are for is continuing in academia because its an ouroboric incestuous institution and 2. PAPERS MAKE ME SUICIDAL

but gods its actually become such a problem.

once again i find myself unemployed and EI is taking forever to come through and i was excited about this job that i made it to the last interview stage of but i havent heard back yet and tmr it will be a week and even at one time entry level positions like receptionists and office assistant jobs now require you to have a degree (there are office administration CERTIFICATES FOR FUCK'S SAKE) or 3 years exp and just goddamn

but i cant go back to school

i cant because i loathe papers so much they give me insane panic attacks and just thinking about being in that position again makes me want to die and

dear gods why couldnt i just have kept my job at LEAST a full year before they laid me off cuz unfortunately 8 months is not an option in the toggle down menu of applications that measure in years and then i am auto weeded out and just

FUCK. MY. LIFE.

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pageofheartdj · 1 year

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Yeah, Western ideology does very much enjoy infecting others as best it can. The USA education system is one of the most divided if I'm not mistaken? Divided in like, the quality of your education can vary wildly depending on where you live instead of a standard being approximately the same throughout schools. People dont choose where they are born and must live (until they move out) but it seems absurd that being born on one side of a city versus the other could be the difference between getting an education that'll prepare you for high school and/or post high school, and one that prepares you for the ever-shrinking factory worker role.

I'm from canada personally and I won't say that ours is much better (our schools are entirely modelled into preparing people for factory work. That was the original goal of our schools. Learn to stand in line, follow the bells, etc. Out high schools (in some provinces) are split into two ""tracks"". University (called academic) and college (called applied). Applied teaches you the absolute basics and pretty much prepares people for factory work. Academic focuses on teaching analytical thinking, critical thinking, essay writing and applying thought to ideas. Totally definitely totally a fair system, because you cant go from applied to academic but you can go academic to applied (applied versions of the classes dont count as prerequisite to academic classes. Basically locks people into a worse education. Theres also a big judgement culture on getting into university because college is considered lesser and for idiots because in canada university is theory and thought focused and colleges are skill and applied knowledge focus)

I think you make good points and it definitely is most obvious in USA where literacy is declining. Unfortunately it happens here in canada too, people just dont talk about us much lol

I think part of it, especially with the us is control. It is a LOT easier to control people if they struggle with critical thinking. Not teaching people how to find information and formulate opinions without (much) outside influence means it is a ton easier just to tell people what they should and shouldnt do. Obviously this thing is bad if it hurts kids, right? But they arent taught how to consider how would it hurt them? Why? What are the alternatives? If kids are hurting why are they pushing other laws and whatnot to hurt them more? Etc etc

Which... not to get political because it isnt quite the best area to bring up randomly, but just going to mention the rise of facism and decline in critical thinking and media literacy are oddly in sync in the US. And there have been studies (here is a quick link but theres tons of articles and papers you can find quick https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.washington.edu/provost/2018/04/23/fake-news-and-misinformation-why-teaching-critical-thinking-is-crucial-for-democracy/&sa=U&ved=2ahUKEwiB89mKnLmAAxUyFzQIHeOnAgYQFnoECAEQAg&usg=AOvVaw2s4TP6UzreLCWaEozRvTPx) that link a lack of critical thinking to people being more firm in biases, more susceptible to misinformation and propaganda, and to a lack of wanting to learn (stagnant beliefs).

Just. To point out that it might be partially not just people being addicted to phones, though that is a big factor. It's one of those situations where you need to ask "who might benefit" if it seems like there are no positives.

Anyways, it is really sad that people aren't being encouraged to think, really if you think about it? Social media is a lot of parroting back and blending in, making your literal person a brand, and echo chambers. Younger folks especially are losing out on those in person social interactions as most is replaced online, which means people arent getting together to chat as much. There is always something else, which limits a person's opportunities to get deep, debate in a risk free space, and just be around other people.

Its complicated and sad, and really weird that the supposed age of information brought about a general decline in thinking capabilities.

We have something similar too with colleges and universities and maybe there is some bias but not big and honestly more people talk how learning skills is more useful that just whatever they do in universities xD

And yeah it's logical for facsist regime to want dumb people. A person can know that some things are bad, but not because WHY it's bad. And that's how we get progressive young people eagerly support censorship. Indirectly support fascism. And when they will notice what is happening it will be too late. (and it's sad to see them ruining what previous generations were fighting for)

Internet definetely also desentitised people? With so much information about the world, there is less compassion. People have no problem being horrible to others because the screen separates them.

It's a mess. Honestly I think it was a mistake letting kids into social media. They are too impressionable and there is too many bad people who will take advantage of it. And it's harder for parents to keep track of dangerous people around their kids(not to mention parents who don't care what their kids do on internet in general). But it's still complicated, because internet also gives kids community they can't get in real life =(

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halfgoosehalfmoose · 2 months

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Too late for therapy

Since after the lockdown I have felt unbelievably low at times. That was right when I started high school, and I remember it got to the point I struggled with suicidal ideation. There were 3 different times where I picked up a pen and paper with the full intent of writing a suicide note but couldn't even think of what to write because I didn't quite understand these emotions myself. But I remember stop studying or not doing homework when I was feeling down not because I thought I needed a break, but because I kept thinking "why bother with this now when you may not even make it past 18". I was stressing and struggling for the sake of a future I might not even have. I did not plan or think about the future, which I am paying for now, because in my head my biggest concern was just not killing myself.

I never learned how to talk about my emotions seriously, I never told anything to anyone. I was going through the absolute hardest most soul-crushing exhausting period of my life but all by myself. It got a lot worse on my last years of highschool, because academic pressure increased and problems with my friends and myself showed up. It felt like powering through a bush of barbed wire that kept getting denser and denser, but not knowing why or if it would even end. Graduation felt so freeing. I realized how much school was weighing me down and I started to actually feel hopeful about university.

That is when I approached my father about therapy. I wanted to start from scratch in uni, put all that struggle behind and somehow become better. But I feel he didn't really take my request seriously. He kept stalling and I had to remind him of what I asked. I know we can afford it because we are well off financially and we have already spent a lot of money in personal requests. It felt frustrating because I needed so much time to gather courage to ask him, I wanted to since I started feeling suicidal and it was like it amounted to nothing.

Now I moved to Germany to try uni here and I am feeling so many things, but mos of them are rooted in how much I'm liking it. It has been more than 3 months and I don't miss my parents. I am not particularly sad over not having friends here, and I never remember to call family or friends with updates. I don't feel there was an adapting period where I felt I didn't belong. There is the matter of the language, as I am still learning German, but it is not affecting me much. I was scared at first because I always heard about how sad and depressing it is, how rude people are, but that was not my impression at all. For sure it is very different from home but not at all as I was expecting(still waiting for winter to fully judge though).

I feel like a bad friend and bad daughter. I left my parents alone. My sister already left too and neither is married or has a partner. I was sad for so long thinking my friends didn't value me but now I don't know how to talk to them.

On the other hand, I'm paying for not thinking about the future. I thought I could easily study biology with my diploma but i didnt take the subjects i had to take so now I need at least 1 year to study for germany's university entrance exam and it will probably make me miss the applicationi deadline meaning I will have to wait another year, making me 3 years late to start university and that is if I go well on the test. I feel like I am wasting so much money since the Euro value keeps rising and my parents are paying all my expenses and I cant even work even if i wanted to.

There are so many things bottled up for so long that I want to deal with and talk to a therapist about but they are in the past. I dont know if it would even do any good bringing them up or just letting them stay behind. I dont even know how to start looking for a therapist and I know it can be expensive and wait time can be long. I feel like I am failing in every way possible.

#vent

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wickedscribbles · 2 years

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I posted 1,158 times in 2022

407 posts created (35%)

751 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@felinitie

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I tagged 1,038 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#arthur morgan - 216 posts

#rdr2 - 120 posts

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#wickedscribbles - 65 posts

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Longest Tag: 109 characters

#i just know a bunch of whiny old white conservative republicans would stop listening to the stations for this

My Top Posts in 2022:

An Unexpected Muse: Part One

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Summary: There’s a cowboy in your Intro to Drawing class. You’re not exactly sure why he’s here. Not because he sticks out, all broad shoulders and grizzled beard amongst the kids who barely count as adults. But because he’s so, so much better than what the class requires.

Requested by @so-may-you-all! 😊

If terfs or transphobes come within ten feet of this fic, it’s on sight. 🔪

Pairing: Trans Arthur Morgan x Art Teacher AFAB Reader, she/her pronouns (Second Person Perspective) I gave her a last name for the purpose of being addressed, but other than that, there are no descriptors!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: modern AU, college/university AU, small town/rural setting AU, trans Arthur, high honor Arthur, fluff, crushes, lust at first sight, flirting, getting together, dom/top Arthur, smut, very explicit consent, pet names, dirty talk, begging, vaginal fingering, teasing, banter, nipple play, falling in love

Word Count: 11.3K

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If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Eight students in your Intro to Drawing class.

For a summer enrichment course, that’s an impressive number. You glance over the names on the sheet of paper slid into your little campus mailbox, relieved to have more than two in attendance. (That had been an awkward couple of months.) For now, though, the classroom is empty save for you, smelling of paint and dust as it always does. The ancient tabletops are stained and splattered from decades of masterpieces come to life under fledgling fingertips, the linoleum floors cracking under the weight of time.

It’s an old room, the only one in this entire building still accessible for classes. The running water feels like a miracle. It’s sweltering in the summer, freezing in the winter, and one of your favorite places in the world. Separate from the rest of this little campus’ collection of buildings, it’s a decent walk to get to what’s now known just as the art room. No one really minds at the start of summer. Your set of keys gets you access to the rest of what the two-story has to offer. A crumbling gymnasium and an empty pool, the top floor full of files and records that won’t fit in the main administration building anymore. The art room’s storage area, small and stuffy.

This campus is a magic place. Okay, you might be biased. Despite being raised without religion, this tiny Catholic college gave you some of the best academic years of your life. Such a relief after the bluster and chaos of high school, to find this hideaway tucked in the woods. The small class sizes and the relaxed nature of the instructors were…well. To call it all a blessing might be a little too on the nose. You’d made friends here, excelled in every course, and four too-short years later, graduated magna cum laude with your Bachelor’s in Arts Education.

Then it was off to the next university, to earn your Master’s, but you’d never forgotten this place. When you were licensed to teach, you were thrilled when they’d called you back to be a full-time instructor. Sure, the pay isn’t phenomenal, but it’s close to home – and every day you get to come back to your old campus. To the old, tall trees and the faded brick, and the library with its secret rooms perfect for studying (or coffee breaks). The family of ducks at the pond recognizes you now when you sit down to sketch them, quacking and waggling their tails as they swim circles on the surface.

Yes, you’re happy to be back in the art room after a few weeks away. Taking a sip of your latte, you lean against one of the tables as you pick up the attendance sheet. Enrichment courses are even more casual than your usual classes. Open to the public, they’re non-credit courses, given for fun for those interested or for the local population who might find themselves bored. There’s not much to do in such a rural area. Along with Intro to Drawing, there’s a creative writing workshop, a self-defense course, and a basic photography course.

“Let’s see…” you mutter, scanning the list of names. Jessica. Emily. Nicholas. Kayla. Amber. Alyssa. Arthur. Cody. Ooh, that’s a lot of A names. You’re bound to get Alyssa and Amber confused for at least a week or two. Lord help you if they look anything alike. For a teacher, you’re not the best with names; you assign a discerning feature to the students to help the name stick in your head. One year you had identical twins whose names both began with K and almost lost your mind.

Well, this is it. You look around the room with a happy sigh, anxious to open the windows and get it all aired out. For the next nine weeks – eighteen meetings spread across Mondays and Wednesdays – this will be a place of still lifes, charcoal smudges on fingertips and elbows, eraser shavings and intense study. Music playing through the windows and light conversation, getting to know one another, talk of current events (but no politics). Inside jokes formed, memories made, and at the end of the course, their proudest work hung up in the hall of the main building. Starting the semester gives you a giddy feeling every time.

Little do you know that one name on your list is going to stand out like no other, and flip your life around in ways you never even considered.

—-------------

They file in, some coming alone, others in pairs. Most show before the class is due to start at nine, and you give them bright smiles, maybe a little wave. You’re overdoing it, but you can’t seem to help your excitement. It’s the first day of the enrichment courses, and these people want to be here. Not because their parents think it’ll look good on their resumes or they need an arts credit. They’re here because they want to create, and enjoy doing it, and something about that makes your heart swell with joy.

You’ve got light acoustic music playing from your phone in the background, because you have no clue what this group likes to listen to yet. With the twenty-somethings, it’ll usually be the latest pop hits. Sometimes it’s movie soundtracks or musical numbers. Either way, you try to keep it cheerful. Classical music is always something nice to fall back on, if no one can decide.

As nine o’clock passes, you count the heads in the room, and come up one short. That’s okay, you think. We’ll wait for a minute. There’s little pressure to be strict with time, after all. You’d bet that almost everyone here is nineteen through twenty-five at most, fresh-faced and somewhat nervous in their introductions to one another. The bright sounds of awkward laughter colors the air as they exchange names.

The clock’s hands show 9:10, and you decide to begin the class with hope that your last missing student will show. You shift on your stool at the front of the room, and the low buzz of conversation dies down, the eyes in the room going to you.

“So we’re going to go ahead and get started,” you begin, clasping your hands together. “We’ve got a straggler, but that’s okay. So! Welcome to –”

BANG.

With a sound so loud half the people in the room jump, the outer doors to the building slam open. From the doorway of the art room you can see someone who just might be your straggler fall inside. Oh, shoot. You’d forgotten to put up that sign about the door sticking in the heat. Good old fifty-year-old buildings. Had he gotten himself stuck out there?

As the whole room stares, in walks a man who almost has to duck to enter the room. He has to be at least a decade older than everyone here, you think, giving him a sheepish half-smile as he edges his way in. He wears a light blue button-down rolled up at the elbows and worn jeans, looking like he could’ve stepped right out of a Wranglers ad. Oh. Oh, no. He’s hot. Even with his face tinged with the faint pink of a blush, he looks like the kind of man who works with his hands, rough and calloused. The kind of man you’d very much be swiping right on had he shown up on your phone’s neglected dating app.

“Sorry,” he says at once. “The – the door – well. Sure y’all heard it.”

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72 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

My first DALL-E simulation, I’m so proud of myself 😅😅

76 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

Flowers in the Scorched Earth

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Surprise! This popped into my head yesterday and I wrote it all in one sitting. Hope you like hurt/comfort 😭

Summary: Pregnant with Arthur's child, you appreciate how careful he is with you -- though sometimes you find yourself smothered. One night in the middle of an argument neither of you meant to start, you find out just why he feels the need to handle you so delicately.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x AFAB Reader, she/her pronouns (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: SPOILERS, do not proceed if you haven’t played the game, pregnancy, high honor Arthur, protective Arthur, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, childbirth, fluff

Word Count: 2.2K

Requests are currently closed! Thank you for understanding!

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

~ Another reminder that there are spoilers for the game within! Proceed with caution!~

Not even born yet, and this baby’s a wild one. Kicking you at all hours of the night, sitting right on your bladder, making you crave the most irrational things. You’re swollen up everywhere – all the places you’re supposed to be, and in places you didn’t even consider. Your ankles are so big and puffy you can’t even wear your shoes. You had no idea that your body would be working this hard, changing so much, yet you wouldn’t go back and do things over. Not ever.

You’re overjoyed to be pregnant with this child, with the baby you and Arthur made together. When you told him, when you were certain – you were scared. You’re running with a gang of outlaws, for God’s sake, and at the time you were nowhere near ready to bring a baby into the world. All it’d taken was one time, one slip, to create a life.

The plethora of emotion that’d gone over Arthur’s face, on the other hand, numbered in the dozens. Disbelief. Terror. Hesitation. Happiness. Joy. And every shade in between until he was taking your hands, asking you over and over if you were sure, were you really sure. He’d gone to his knees where you sat and spread his hands over your stomach, trying to feel for some small bump.

From that day forward he looks after you first, and does the gang’s dirty work second. There’s no room for argument. For a while before either of you knew you were pregnant, there’d been idle talk of going away, of getting out of the gang and building a life together somewhere, but now the matter is far more pressing. You know that Arthur’s working himself ragged trying to earn extra money, enough to get some land for the two of you to settle somewhere, build a house. He keeps telling you he’s “going to do things right”.

He looks so tired, but whenever he’s back at camp, he’s never off his feet for a minute. Not if you’re trying to do something like get your supper or help the girls with the wash. Arthur doesn’t want you going anywhere on your own, doesn’t want you hauling your round self up on your mare for a ride out of camp to clear your head. Even when he’s gone, you know he tells the girls to keep an eye on you, not to let you work yourself too hard.

It’s beyond exasperating. As the weeks go by, you’re getting your energy back, eager to do more around the camp again, to move. The nausea of the first few months is fading, and you’re not anxious to just sit around like some little wife. You’re bored out of your mind. Bad enough that you’re stuck in camp, no longer allowed to go out robbing.

You know he means well. You do. Every look and touch he gives you is soaking in love and gentleness, and how can you fault him for loving you too much? But somewhere, you have to put your foot down. You’re still a human being, beyond the pregnancy, and you’re so damn tired of being pent up.

The words just slip out one night when you try to get out of bed for a drink of water. You’re tired, lower back aching from the weight of the child you’re carrying. The crate with the water pitcher is on the other side of the tent, and you brace yourself against the edge of the cot to get up, to roll yourself into a sitting position. You’d thought Arthur was drowsing behind you, breathing deeply. He falls asleep almost as soon as his body hits the bed, these days.

The frustration of waking him up – or him never being asleep in the first place – is what does it, you think. Of him still putting your needs so far above his own, when it’s so obvious that he’s exhausted. It makes you feel angry and useless. When Arthur’s groggy murmur comes from behind you, telling you to lie back down so that he can get what you need, you’re quick to snap back.

“Jesus Christ, Arthur, I can get my own water! I’m pregnant, not an invalid!”

A thick silence trails in the air where you’d spoken, and your eyes fill with tears. Why would you say that? He was only trying to help you. He’s only ever trying to help you. You turn from where you’re perched on the edge of the cot, throat thick with wetness, unable to see him in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m – I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

You feel the cot shift as Arthur moves to sit up. “S’okay,” he mumbles. “You’re allowed to have your emotions. It’s a lot to do.”

Of course he would let you off that easy. You rub the heel of your hand at your eyes, angry at the tears flowing down your face, and fumble for the lantern. At least he lets you light it, perhaps afraid that doing it himself would spark another outburst. The soft glow makes the circles under his eyes look even darker, and you lean forward with trembling fingers to brush the hair off of his face.

“Arthur, why are you doing this?”

He leans into your hand, eyes closed, like the softness of your touch is something he’s been craving. “Doin’ what?” Even his words sound weary, and if this weren’t a conversation that needed to happen, you’d dismiss it, tell him to lie back down and get his rest. Too soon, he’s looking back at you, brow furrowed, upset that you’re sitting there in a mess of tears and sorrow. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry. I’m okay. It’s okay.” His big hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheek, and your lip wobbles.

“You’re n-not.”

God, you hate to cry, hate to be seen as the emotional pregnant woman who can’t keep it together, but you’ve reached a breaking point. Because the man you love isn’t taking care of himself, and you can’t stand it. He’s never been one for self-preservation, but this is terrible. You aren’t even certain he’s eating more than once a day, and for what? You don’t want to thrive if it means he suffers.

The baby isn’t happy either. They know you’re awake and agitated, and one little foot goes kicking out in your stomach. You place a hand there, trying to soothe them, and Arthur’s eyes trail down. You can see the worry in his face plain as day as his hand goes to cover yours.

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102 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

Oh dang, ficlet requests, so exciting!! Because my cat attacked my foot while I was thinking: Arthur + a bunch o' kittens? Maybe with a femme!reader but thats not necessary!

hhhhhh yes 🥺🥺 I love that idea 💖 Thanks for the suggestion!

Tiny Pink Noses

Summary: You find a box of kittens -- and call upon Arthur for help.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x AFAB Reader (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: General

Tags: allusions to animal cruelty, modern au, fluff!! very fluffy

Word Count: 1,093 😅

“And someone just left them there,” you hiccup into the phone between tears. “They’re so t-tiny and they’re crying and I don’t know what to do –”

“Now, hold on, slow down –”

You try to listen to Arthur and keep a hand on the top of the box at the same time. Sitting in your parked car on the side of the street, you take a few deep breaths for good measure. You’d been walking back to your car after a morning shift at your nearby workplace when the box had caught your eye, slightly damp from the spring rain and pushed up against the side of a building.

There were no words written on it, nothing like free kittens!. No one around to watch them. Just four tiny bundles of fur crowded inside, their little eyes peering up at you desperately. You picked the box up without a second thought, carrying it to your car. It was only when you called Arthur that you started crying, not having a clue what to do. Your apartment doesn’t allow pets, and they look so hungry and small. You have no idea how long they’ve been there, abandoned, alone. How could someone do that? What is wrong with people? It breaks your heart.

“Let’s just… slow down,” Arthur says again. You nod, though he can’t see you. His voice is soft in your ear, comforting, and you’re grateful for his ability to keep his head when you’re currently losing yours. “Why don’t you drive over here and we’ll see what we got to deal with?”

“Okay,” you answer. “Okay, I’ll – be there in a few minutes.”

Arthur lives a few miles outside of town, on a gorgeous piece of wooded property. He’s waiting for you on the front porch as you pull up the gravel drive, thumbs in his front pockets, and the knot in your chest loosens at the sight of him. From the backyard, Copper barks his welcome, wagging his tail furiously. You put the car in park and unbuckle, careful as you scoop up the box. The scuffle of claws against the cardboard meets your ears as you lift up, opening the car door.

He holds the front door open for you, and you utter a thanks. Gathered around the coffee table, you sit the box on the ground, unfolding the flaps. At once, two needy faces peek out at you, black with splotches of orange. Their tiny meows echo loud as the other two hurry to catch up, realizing that there’s an opportunity for escape.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Arthur mutters, moving to sit on the carpet. “Look at ‘em.”

One of his big hands moves to scoop a kitten out of the box, leaving their little paws dangling. It lifts its head to sniff at him before letting out a particularly loud demand for food. To your amusement, you watch a small smile light up Arthur’s face – though he’s always claimed to not be a cat person. He places the kitten close to his chest to comfort it before grabbing another, letting it explore along his lap.

Now that they’re in a safe place, you feel a lot better about the whole thing, even if you still don’t know what to do with them all.

“Guess the first thing we oughta do is get ‘em fed,” he says after a few moments of watching them play. “And call the shelter. I can’t keep ‘em, and I know you can’t.”

You think for a minute. The pet store in town should have what you need, but you don’t want to leave the kittens alone. If one of you stays here with them, then the other can call the animal shelter. Arthur graciously volunteers himself to stay put with the little bundles of fur – emptying the box of all four kittens into his lap as you gather your keys and phone.

When you return with kitten formula, bottles, and a litter box, they’re all right where you left them. Arthur’s leaned up against the living room wall, murmuring something too quiet for you to hear as you bring the supplies inside. But the tone of voice he’s using is sweeter than you’ve ever heard him use, and the little kitten peering up at him honest-to-God looks like it’s hanging onto every word. As you draw closer, some of what he’s saying becomes distinguishable.

“...Gonna get you fed, okay, kitty? Yeah, nice and round and healthy little fella. We’re gonna take care of you. You’re never gonna live in a box again.”

“I got the stuff,” you say quietly, grinning as you hold up the bag.

Arthur blinks, flushing a little as he realizes you must’ve heard some of the adorable monologue. “Oh – uh – good. I called the shelter, ‘n they said we can drop ‘em off tomorrow mornin’.”

“Now we just have to feed the poor little things,” you say, studying the back of the formula box. “Who knows when they ate last.”

You might not know when the kittens ate last, but they act like they’ve never had food in their lives. With you and Arthur armed with tiny bottles in each hand, you take turns feeding each little black-and-ginger furball their share of lukewarm milk, wincing a little as they grip your hand with earnest claws.

Once they’ve had their fill, their bellies round, you deposit them onto a soft blanket pulled from the couch. Something melts in your heart as a few of them knead the material with their tiny paws, letting out purrs before drifting off to sleep. They look peaceful, curled up against one another, and you’re so happy that they’re alright. At the shelter, they’ll get veterinary care and plenty of attention, and go into foster care before they go up for adoption. A few hours ago you’d been so upset about these little ones, but now they’re sleepy and full, their mouths wet with milk.

As it turns out, one of the four kittens never gets put up for adoption. Though Arthur had insisted he couldn’t keep a cat, one snuck its way into his life anyway. Once he realized that Copper would get along with one, you think he was sold on the idea completely. You’d seen the way he’d looked at them that first day as you’d opened up the box. The smallest kitten – Jellybean, he calls her – goes straight from foster into Arthur’s home, and grows into a longhaired tortoiseshell beauty.

Every now and then, you can still catch him talking to her.

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161 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If At First You Don’t Succeed

Masterlist, Join the Taglist

Note:The second Valentine’s Day post! Enjoy 🥰

Summary: Arthur intends to help you do something entirely new.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x AFAB Reader, she/her pronouns (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, high honor Arthur, soft Arthur, praise kink, sexual inexperience, dirty talk, explicit consent, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, voice kink, pet names, gentle sex, PIV sex, doggy style, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Word Count: 2.3K

Requests are currently closed! Thanks for understanding.

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

"Arthur, I can't," you whimper.

You're lying naked in his lap, pressed against his bare chest while the bulge of his clothed crotch nudges you from behind.

"I think you can, sweet girl," he answers, his low voice right in your ear. "Don't give up so soon, now. Lemme take care of you. Jus' relax."

Taking a deep breath, you try to do as he says, to ease some of the tension keeping your spine stiff. He feels your effort and praises you with a pair of kisses to the side of your neck.

"There we go," he whispers. "There's my good girl."

You can do nothing but shudder at that, goosebumps breaking out everywhere. You want this so badly to work -- but have no idea what to expect from it, either. All you can do is trust in Arthur, as you've always trusted him before, to guide you through this. To hope it works this time.

The thing is: you've never had an orgasm. Never, in your life. Not with a partner, not on your own. By now you're starting to feel like something's wrong with you, or it's just not meant to happen. Tonight, though, Arthur is determined to help you get there. No pressure, you think.

Not that he's the problem here. All throughout the night Arthur's been so slow and careful with you, leading up to this. All the fear seems to be in your own head, unfortunately. You don't want to disappoint him. But also -- what will it be like if you do come for him?

"Are you overthinkin'?" He teases.

"Maybe." Arthur knows you too well.

You hear him chuckle. His hands come up to caress your body, first your breasts, then your thighs. Through where you're pressed together, you can feel the steady beat of his heart, and it's comforting. You focus on that, trying to give yourself up to sensation.

Because everything he does feels good; his broad, calloused hands know what they're doing. They move slow, with purpose, making everywhere he touches more sensitive.

"How's that feel, angel?" His murmur reaches you, sounding far away, and it takes you a minute to answer.

"Feels good," you say, not quite recognizing your voice. "It's -- it's nice, Arthur."

"Mmm." He growls low in your ear, a sound of approval, shooting hot pleasure to your core as you feel it rumbling his chest too. "Good."

For a while, he keeps on like that, hands wandering their paths. Not touching anything specific; your thighs, up your chest, then back again. Simply feeling you. Then one of his hands comes to rest on your right breast, grasping it lightly, while the left nudges your thighs open a little wider.

"Spread those pretty legs for me now, girl, alright?" His voice is still soft in your ear, accompanied by a kiss, letting you know you can stop if you want to. Instead you nod, eager now, opening yourself up for him. You feel his cock twitch where it's pressed against your back.

While the hand on your breast is busy squeezing and kneading, the one between your thighs is awestruck at the wetness it finds there. You actually feel Arthur's fingers falter, stutter, like he wasn't expecting you to be as wet as you are. Your face feels hot, and you open your mouth to apologize, but Arthur speaks first.

"So wet for me," he murmurs, tracing two loving fingers over your most private place. "Oh, such a good girl. So sweet 'n ready, ain't you?"

The reverent attention takes your breath away. Here you thought that this was something to be ashamed of and he...likes it. It's a good thing. And you didn't even know. There's not a trace of anything but honesty in his voice to suggest otherwise.

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400 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #It was the year of Arthur Morgan and I'm okay with that

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chocolatecakecas · 3 years

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#im about to rant look away #asfahdhejdksoqusgejfkaishshd okay #so i am SO fucking sick of political research i cant i cant do it anymore #its all the same and you can never find a source that explains what you already know is true. that or doesnt even exist which is just beyond #fucking exhausting like you know its right you KNOW the data would show it but all you get is long winded academic journals that dont give #you shit or sources that are ALL data thats pretty much impossible to interpret #and listen i love poli sci i love policy i love research but i have just been going nonfucking stop class after class research paper #after research paper. why does every single class need a 20 page fucking research paper? and theyre all due the same day #literally i end up writing like 5 research papers a smester and i havent had a BREAK because ive had a full schedule every semester PLUS #summer classes and i took a class over winter break and i just-what the fuck i cant donit anymore #and i have 4 fucking research papers due in 2 weeks and theyre all due on the same fucking day plus an essay for my lit class #and they havent even told us what they were ON #and i literally just spent ALL NIGHT finishing a slightly smaller research paper for a class that has a huge reaearch paper due in less than #2 weeks.....how much fucking RESEARCH CAN I DO??? HOWMUCH THEORY? HOW MANY OF THE SAME TOPICS CAN I STUDY???#but yk what i finished the american pie amv so perhaps none of this matters asfhahdhs #and yes im a poli sci major and applying to public policy analysis grad programs where my whole life would be research what of it......#sorry i havent slept in like....9 days now??? i dont know but hey if you read this far ily #bec speaks

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pandoratheprocrasticreator · 2 years

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You know that flavor of ppl who aren't like homophobic by the strictest definition. Like they don't hate queer ppl and are even enthusiastic to co-exist with them but are like. Weird about it. Not in the "I'm fine with queers i just dont want them shoved down my throat" bc thats just homophobia but like the gluten free version of that.

This phenomenon is more harmful irl but im pulling examples from fandom bc thats where i spend most my time online these days and shipping is inconsequential enough to discuss. If a boy and a girl interact at all in one scene theres immediately a whole community for their ship and no one bats an eye. But shippers of gay ships that dont interact are filled with ppl who lord them as their "uwu gay babies" and shippers who are normal about it get plagued with ppl asking them for "proof theyre a couple." And when you do the same for a straight ship ppl retort with "this isnt hurting anyone so leave us alone" which could be a reasonable argument. But the same ppl using that for their straight ships are also the ones asking for cited sources that the author didnt intend for characters in a gay ship to be entirely straight.

Same with other queer headcanons. Trans hcs will have ppl saying that "i PERSONALLY never saw them as trans your headcanon is valid but i need you to give me an essay on your reasons bc WHY WOULD THEY BE TRANS." Ace headcanons are similar except with ppl also telling the hperson with the ace headcanon that they ship this character with someone. And ofc theres the "arent characters allowed to be friends" argument which again. Is valid. But the ppl making that for queer headcanons also often parade screenshots where a boy and girl in a show look at each other and say "this is proof theyre canon."

And maybe its just bc ive been into more queer media lately but these kids of ppl are worse when the media actually has canon queer characters? Ppl flock to the safe and canon gay ships and use that as a shield against accusations of bias. They CANT be homophobic or even biased against queer people because look! They thought it was cute when these two secondary girls held hands! This character has gay dads and this person supports that! They just want you to write an academic paper to justify your ship existing because YOURE the crazy one whos bringing shipping into everything. No one has to reexamine their implicit biases whatsoever. It feels performative.

Ofc this also extends to other biases. The main character of this book is black so the fandom cant be racist. Thats why its perfectly fine for them to hyperfocus on the angsty white boy in the secondary cast and ignore the main poc characters. No one needs to think about why that consistently happens in every fandom like this. This main character is a girl! And shes also a Strong Female Character whos quirky. So we dont need to think about how the fandom lauds around the male villains as sexy and write pages of meta on their motivations and then call female villains "bitches" and talk about the graphic ways they should be killed and maybe sexualize them if theyre conventionally attractive but in a more dehumanizing way than the male villains. And ofc if you call fans out for this, they jump behind the shield of "liking diverse media." Which makes them immune to accusations of bigotry. This is also true for creators of media btw.

Anyway its like. I would rather deal with these kinds of ppl than actual homophobes, especially regarding non fandom topics that actually affect irl ppl. But also these people are so much more annoying than actual homophobes. Bc like. If you tell me you support queer ppl then act like it, you know?

#shut up pandora #dropping this rant in time for pride i guess #homophobia #does that go in this tag?#also dont come at me with fandom drama #the fandom thing is just an example #my point is people will use their support of specific queer ppl #especialy those who fit within heteronormative ideas except they married the same gender or have transitioned #and dismiss all criticism bc they think this keeps them from being homophobic #supporting queer ppl isnt just letting them date of present as the gender they want you also have to change your heteronormative mindset #because otherwise youve just created the same system of oppression but with rainbows #irl this would be the argument #im not homophobic i have gay friends #pride

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ithinkthereforeidread · 3 years

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the collected poems of todd anderson

christmas day of 1959.

ao3 link here

He knew this day would come. He’s been dreading it, sure, he’d never really enjoyed Christmas much beforehand, his multiple unopened desk sets epitomised such. At his house, fires weren’t warm, hugs were stiff and silence was punctured by the sounds of laughing children in the house next door. It’d always been this way for the Anderson family. Todd grew to accept it.

But this year was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to spend his Christmas at Welton, with all the Dead Poets.

Usually, the boys would go home to their families for Christmas, but through the efforts of Neil he assembled a complex string of falsities about a gargantuan Latin group project that all the Dead Poets needed to finish.

“Serious business, I care about my education father, why else would have you sent me here?” said Neil over the phone, holding his index finger to his mouth to silence Todd from his chuckling, although all Todd really saw was the wide grin that hid behind it, and the way Neil’s eyes crinkled up all the way, a complete oxymoronic action when Neil was usually on the phone to his father. Todd stifles back laughter and Neil smacks him lightly, only causing him to laugh more.

“Well, that was quicker AND easier than I expected...” Neil states after placing the phone back on it’s cradle and ending the call. “But hey!” Neil squeaks, “We’re all spending Christmas together! The biggest concern was just getting my father to agree, everyone else’s parents seemed fine with it.”

Todd and Neil start to walk, side by side, Neil bumps him playfully. “I’m so glad you told me, Todd.” Neil turns his head and looks towards the shorter boy. “My Christmases at home aren’t that great either, I’ve always wanted to spend them here, but I could never work up the courage to ask my father, ask Charlie, in our first year he almost called up my father himself. It was hilarious, he had to look up at the phone, he was so short.”

“You and Charlie have been friends for ages then?” Todd queries “Oh yeah, we met in our last year of preparatory school, he was a pretty mischievous kid, obviously not much has changed.” Neil laughs, “he was just always so confident and sure of himself… I always wanted to be like that, nothing ever got to him.”

“Has that changed?” Todd’s questions were always short and straight to the point. Startling upfrontness in the most unexpected of moments. It was something Todd was known for.

“Not really… I mean, I try to get him to open up… he just isn’t an emotions type of person, I think?” Neil scratches the back of his head. “During our 9th year he went through something really big and not great, but he didn’t tell me a single word about it. To this day I have no idea wahat happened. I tried asking but it didn’t lead anywhere… all I know is some kid had been expelled but it didn’t look like him and Charlie fought or anything because they spent so much time together ....” Neil trails off.

“You know people stare at us sometimes.” Todd blankly states, an unconscious switch being flicked immediately. “When we’re walking to classes, when we go into our dorm, when we exchange smiles in classes… They bump their friends with their shoulders and snicker under their breaths… Have you noticed that Neil?”

Neil’s walking pace slows slightly, “Uh… no, I-uh I didn’t… Do they think we’re-“ “-Maybe.” Todd interrupts before Neil can say The Word. “Bu-but we aren’t, I mean, you were talking about that girl from-“ “-Yeah! Ginny, from the play, wow, I mean, she’s just great.” “Yeah, I’m sure she is.”

God.

This got awkward.

Nice one Todd.

Did it again.

Ink splatters dried on the paper he cradled so delicately, he stares at the contents once more.

“what wouldn't i give to love myself as feverishly as I love you? what is the opposite of amnesia? that is what you are. sometimes i cant find my way around my memories. i have to take detours… i think you were the best one.

little fragments of joy pepper my vacancy i didn't know that i should want to be hopeful or that being hopeful meant giving up some intrinsic part of me.

last night i had a dream that we were breathing underwater flying high in the sky, arms outstretched, laughing, smiling, hugging, bodies pressed onto one another. it didn’t last long. piece by wretched, fragile piece i throw out every hated qualm of thee your impenetrable stare fixed onto me

i have hoped for love that is beyond you being caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. they read me, you, us, with their glacial eyes and think they know but they don't

and it seems neither do we.”

“Wow, Todd. This is so… different. But good! It’s just, I’ve never seen anything like this in our English class, in the poems we’ve studied… I just… wow.” Neil looks up at Todd, eyes so soft, Neil knows how big of a deal this is to Todd. He doesn’t just share his work with anyone.

“I-I’m glad you liked it.” Todd smiles, it’s almost as if he’s had to completely remove himself from himself in order to let Neil observe and compliment this part of him, he takes the page out of Neil’s hands and places it in his book. “What-er, who was it about?” Neil gingerly queries. “I- uh, well.” Todd’s heating up now, he should’ve expected Neil to ask him this question. Dammit. Why was he so stupid for letting him read it. “Well, I-I don’t think you necessarily have to go through something to write a-about it, it-it’s fiction for a reason.”

Neil’s lips downturn slightly, “I guess, but everything that we produce in art- whether that be acting, or poetry writing, painting- whatever… it… subconsciously shows something that you might not necessarily want to show or see, right? Like how Keating got us the other day to choose a poem we liked and recite it… It tells you so much about a person. When Charlie was reading his poem… wasn't all you could think about was how bleak it was?” Neil continues, “The academically and poetically rigorous selection made by Cameron or Knox’s complete devotion and enamoration with the simplest emotion of the human being, love? We hide these parts of ourselves, maybe we view them as flaws and faults of our cognitive machine, but art reveals them all.” Neil delivered a love poem to the class himself. He takes a big breath and lets the words he just spoke sit in the air of their dorm for a while.

“Into the meadows dawn..” Todd clicks his fingers, a vague ritual to jog his memory. “flashes my faun.” Todd recites “O Hunter, snare me his shadow… O Nightingale catch me his strain. Else moonstruck with music and madness, I track him in vain” all they’re doing is staring at each other.

“You- you remembered my poem?” Neil questions. “Yeah- I went to the library after you said it- wanted to see if there was more… Oscar Wilde…” “Yeah.” “I notice them staring now that you mentioned it.” Neil breaks the trajectory of the conversation, “God, they’re all so stupid, it’s as if Judy Garland and President Eisenhower just strutted into the school, arms interlocked!” Todd chuckles. Then more silence.

“Has anything changed, Neil?” “What do you mean?” “Between us. What this is. Our comradely bond, as Keating puts it.” Todd chuckles, “ Our co-dependence, attachment at the hip.”

More silence…

“I-I think…” Neil finally states, “that it was never anything it wasn’t already… perhaps we ignored it, suppressed the feeling… but… it was always there.”

“For me, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

~~~

The wind pierced Todd’s skin in tiny microscopic ways, embedding itself under the protection of his coat and completely evading the rest of his physical form, though perhaps the wind wasn’t the cause of the spine-curdling ache he felt, but simply an additional symptom.

Bells rang, green and red Christmas themed paraphernalia adorned the streets he’d previously been driving through, staring out the window at lights and snow that trickled onto an already naturally bleached layer of the ground. His footprints leave indents and obtain a slippery consistency to the outer sole and toe cap. He treads more carefully.

His hands clutch the leather cover of the journal he is hiding underneath his jacket, minimising any further damage that may soon come its way, finally, through minutes of soul-searching and carefully treading through stones and flowers, he makes his way to Neil.

He looks at him with a certain sense of fragility, his stone head protruding from the ground and covered in snow. Todd wipes some away to see the carvings made into him. His full name. Aged 17. Dutiful son of Tom and Susan Perry.

The newness of it all sends a pang to Todd’s stomach as he looks at the other stones weathered with age and the constant bombardment of the elements. That’ll be Neil one day. Flowers not fresh and carvings unreadable. Forgotten to the world and all its inhabitants, rotting in satin lining and cherry oak wood. Todd stifles back a sob and covers his mouth, forcing himself to get it together for just this moment.

“Merry Christmas Neil.” Todd whispers, the words can barely come out. “You-you’re not here physically but you’re here with me, and Charlie, and-and all the other Dead Poets.” he continues, “though- though Charlie isn’t here technically either. He left. Had to. He’s not graduating, at least he’s not at Welton” Todd looks down, brushes his emerging tears away with his shoulder

“I just wanted to come here and give you your gift, I’ve had it in the making for a while now, you’ve seen some of it already. I wish I could’ve given it to you earlier… if I had known this would happen.” he pulls out the journal, and opens it up.

“Here, I’ll read you some.” Todd, though already cold and miserable, situates himself next to Neil’s cold headstone and leans his head on it, opening the journal's contents to its first page.

“Dear Neil,” Todd’s starts, but adds an offside, “It’s dated on the 7th of a while back, my-my birthday.”

“I hope this book finds you well,” Todd’s breath hitches, “especially considering that I’m probably too anxious to deliver it to you. What you’ll see here is what we spoke about the night we first kissed. About freeing ourselves from any subconscious fear or dichotomous dread of both working with and against the grain or being liked or disliked. The people I look up to the most are inspirationally unpopular. So, here’s a suite of poems by yours truly. Hopefully you’ll find your own meaning and reverence in the words my brain has conjured up, words mostly pertaining to you. Every inch of your being alive has me transfixed and enamoured, and I’m truly gobsmacked on the good deed I must’ve committed to have deserved having you in my life.” Todd’s face is red and stuffy from the cold and his breathing is short and punctured.

“You’re sleeping right near me at this moment, and as a sweaty toothed madman once said. We were together. I forgot the rest. Consider this journal a detachable limb of my own self, something you can always carry around and know that I am with you, always. You can suck the life force, the bone marrow out of the words I have written in here and I would applaud and encourage you to do so. Without you, I have no idea where I’d be right now. I owe you so much Neil, you’ve taught me that sometimes the world can be good. That a person’s smile can brighten an entire room. A performance perfectly acted can be a person’s ultimate achievement and their triumph. You are the word phenomenal incarnate Neil, I hope my words do you some sort of justice.

You deserve the world, Neil. I’m brainstorming ways to give it to you.

With love, Todd.”

——————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed!! its fucking brutal honestly but needed some angst and tragedy in my fictional life to reflect my own.

just a preface that some of the poem todd read's is borrowed from pete wentz old emo livejournal posts because i need to somehow tie my two big interests together and MAN does that man write some gay ass shit. hope your heart doesnt hurt too much <3

creds to @neilscrown on tiktok for posting the headcanon "Todd definitely bought Neil a Christmas present and he never got the chance to give it to him so he would sit in his once shared room and stare at it" it tore my HEART OUT and inspired this rambling

#dead poets society #dead poets #dead poets honour #dead poets fanfiction #anderperry #anderperry fanfic #todd anderson #neil perry #todd and neil

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years

Text

Day 7

Prompt: There is a string tied around your pinky the end of which leads to your soulmate.

Word Count: 2,647

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes

Note: I modified the prompt a bit. In this world, everyone can see the string tied around the finger. When the string is intact, it’s red like normal. If the string has been cut, it will turn gray and both soulmates will be seen as ‘lesser people’ for denying their destiny. If a soulmate dies, the string will turn black. Another thing to note is that Logan is asexual. It’s briefly alluded to in the beginning but not brought up again.

Virgil wandered the campus, shoulders hunched in a clear indication that he didn’t want to be seen. He was glad to be able to be here at all after what happened in high school. Even so, he made sure to wear the gloves and stay out of people’s ways. The first semester was hell as he still wasn’t sure how to do anything but still tried. It seemed all his teachers had it out for him on day one as soon as they caught sight of those gloves.

It wasn’t until his second semester that he met someone who wore gloves just like him. He was sitting by himself during the time he’d scheduled for lunch, reading a fanfiction off his phone and trying to block out the world. Someone sat beside him and started watching a nature documentary while eating. He glanced over and frowned in confusion. Before he could gather his things to move to a different seat, the person spoke.

“I see you’re just like me.”

Virgil’s frown deepened. “How is that?”

They held up a gloved hand. “How did yours happen?”

Virgil relaxed into his seat. “I don’t know. I was in the middle of math class in high school.”

They winced, nodding. “That’s tough.”

“You?” Virgil didn’t know why, but he felt a burning need to know their story, to know he wasn’t alone in his struggles.

Their wince turned sour, a look one step away from a glare entering their eyes. “I cut it myself. She wasn’t willing to treat me right, didn’t accept my pronouns and sexuality, so I cut it. I know my worth and she didn’t deserve me. As far as I care, she still doesn’t.”

Virgil nodded, almost in awe of them. “I never met mine but they’ve stayed with me for a while now. I’ve always wondered if I was ever going to be good enough for someone or if I was simply too damaged.” He had no idea why he was telling a random stranger his life’s story but it felt too right to stop.

The stranger shook their head. “They cut it, you didn’t. It’s their fault but you’ve had to live with it. That shouldn't have been the case.” They turned to look at him, a fierce expression in their eyes. “If they didn’t want you, they didn’t deserve you, simple as that. You never got to know them or be known by them, thus it is their fault for cutting it. Never blame yourself for the actions of others.”

With that, they put their headphones back in and played their documentary. Virgil felt his phone buzz and looked down to find that he had ten minutes to get to class. He hastily ripped out a paper from his notebook, scrawled his number on it, shoved it over to the stranger, and ran off to get to class.

He didn’t see the stranger again for a few days but got a text from them that night. They chatted late into the night, talking about classes and life outside of soulmates. They commiserated over their lack of soulmates and the shunning it causes. Virgil was able to complain about his gloves and how much he hated them and have someone agree and understand, something he’d never had before. He was able to understand when the stranger, Logan, complained about the stares they got while washing their hands, how they hated everyone looking at the gray string that hung limply from their finger.

Virgil soon found not only a soulmateless companion, but a companion in academic pursuits as well. They seemed to be intellectual peers so Virgil understood most of Logan’s science babble. Logan seemed to have taken a biologist major as they spoke of creatures found in rainforests constantly. Virgil, on the other hand, was in an arts major, focusing mainly on building models of commissioned structures.

Slowly, brick by brick, Logan rebuilt Virgil’s self confidence. They helped him regain his self love, told him how strong he was for surviving the most grueling years of his life. Logan would never let Virgil apologize for the simple things like running late or using the wrong pronouns for them. They always made sure to let him know that they were not upset and were proud of his progress. Virgil’s sense of self worth grew stronger and larger, finally allowing him to see what Logan had known from the start: Virgil’s soulmate didn’t deserve him.

Over the semester, they grew closer, their bond growing strong. Virgil’s panic attacks lessened, he could stand to hear the word ‘soulmates’ without wanting to curl into a ball and cry, he didn’t jump at the sight of a math textbook, didn’t feel the need to hide his high school passions. He grew enough that he could look at the gloves he had to wear with something other than disdain.

Soon, they had decided to room together the next semester. Luckily, their requests were easily approved as it seemed the faculty were more than happy to have the two students without soulmates room together.

They finished their degrees and managed to graduate without dying, which Virgil counted as a plus. Logan simply said Virgil was being overdramatic. Once they graduated, they found an aquarium with a rainforest section that allowed Logan to work with the animals they loved and gave Virgil a lot of opportunities to make or upgrade different terrariums and enclosures. He was also able to design more enrichment activities for certain animals. They saw each other in the back rooms and in the halls. Most times, they ended up sitting with each other to eat lunch as not many people wanted to interact with them.They still lived together in a small apartment as they didn’t feel the need to move.

Over time, Virgil got to know Logan better and knew he was falling for them. One night, he’d accidentally had too much to drink. He leaned against Logan, who’s arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright and relatively stable. Logan deposited him on the couch. “Stay here, I’ll go grab you some water to sober you up.”

Virgil whined, reaching out for them. Once he took hold of their hand, he pulled his roommate close. “No! Don’t go!”

Logan sighed but sat down on the couch anyways. Virgil leaned heavily to the side but before Logan could catch him, his head landed in the other’s lap. Virgil wiggled a bit before he managed to throw his legs over the arm of the couch, fully laying down now. He giggled, looking up at Logan. “You’re really handsome.” He muttered.

Logan smiled fondly, a hand reaching out to stroke through Virgil’s hair. “That’s nice, Virge. How about you try to sleep now?”

Virgil shook his head. “No, no sleep. You’re too nice to me.”

Logan’s smile turned into a frown. “How am I too nice to you?”

“You’re very patient with me, never getting angry at me for jumping at small noises, or randomly leaving a room. You take such good care of me when I’m sick. You’ve treated me with more basic human kindness than most people did during college.” Tears started to slide down his temples but Logan brushed them away. “I love you, L.” Virgil curled up, his face pressed against Logan’s stomach.

Logan stayed still the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep. When they woke, Virgil was moving around in the kitchen. “Sorry, did I wake you?” He asked genuinely.

Logan groaned but shook their head as they stood. “No, but I think we need to talk about last night.”

Virgil nodded, turning the burner off so he didn’t burn the scrambled eggs. “Is this about my drinking? I promise that was a one time thing.”

“No, I trust you on that. I’m talking about what you said to me before you fell asleep.”

Virgil nodded again, shakier this time. He put the dish towel he was holding down. “Oh, that.”

Logan nodded. “I only really have one question for you.”

Virgil looked at the counter, pretending to wipe at the already clean surface. “Sure, shoot.”

Logan put a hand on his arm, staying his movement. “Did you mean it?”

Virgil’s head shot up so fast he was sure he popped something. “Of course!”

Logan smiled, leaning over to kiss Virgil’s cheek. “Good, because I love you too.”

Virgil stood there, dazed, for a few minutes while Logan walked away to shower and get ready for the day. When they came back out, they had a discussion of what their relationship was and decided that they were datemates.

As time went on, they stopped sleeping in separate rooms for one reason or another. Sometimes, one of them couldn’t handle the pressure of the world anymore and ended up crying themselves to sleep on the other’s bed, sometimes they were cuddling and talking before falling asleep. Eventually, they simply decided to share a room. With their combined savings, they toured apartments and found one they liked, with a bedroom they could both make theirs.

A few more years went by and they were happy. When around Logan, Virgil could almost forget about the grey string tied to his finger, the string that decreed he was unlovable, unable to marry, unable to adopt. The string and all implications that came with it ceased to exist the moment he caught sight of Logan.

It was in one of those moments that he knew: he wanted to marry this beautiful human beside him, the one holding him close, the one who makes him forget the world, the one who loves him just as much as he loves them. He also knew that the gray strings hidden under their gloves denied their marriage. Only soulmates bound by a red string could get married, adopt, love.

Virgil raised his head from it’s position on Logan’s chest, looking them in the eye. “Marry me.”

Logan chuckled, a hand running through Virgil’s hair. “I’d love to but you know we can’t.”

Virgil shook his head. “If our marriage would never be legal, why should we use legal means?”

Logan’s smile slid into a frown. “I don’t follow.”

“How does a wedding go, babe?”

Logan’s smile returned at the pet name. “It usually involves the soulmates saying vows and swapping their soul strings, which proceeds to glow golden around the base of the finger while the rest of the string stays red.”

Virgil nodded, his smile growing. “So, let’s do that! We don’t need any witnesses if we’re not able to make it legal anyways. What do you say?”

Logan had gotten a look in their eye while Virgil was talking that he knew all too well. His datemate was plotting something. “Well,” he said finally, “if we’re doing this, I’d want to do it as best as we can.”

Virgil nodded, moving to sit up so he could see Logan better. “Like what?”

“You mentioned vows?”

Virgil smiled, feeling excitement and just a bit of anxiety growing. “That’s doable.”

“I could pick up cupcakes instead of a wedding cake?”

Virgil nodded, grinning. “Would it be too much if I were to wear a suit?”

Logan smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Not if I wore a dress.”

They continued to plan their ‘wedding’ over the course of a few days, both preparing vows in their free time. Virgil was once asked about what he was doing by a coworker but said he was giving a speech at a relative’s wedding, not wanting to give away that what he was doing was technically illegal.

The day they’d set arrived. It was a joint day off so neither had to go into work. Virgil woke up before Logan did, depositing a kiss to their forehead before slipping out of bed. He ate breakfast, making one for Logan to find when they woke up, before heading to the spare bedroom to prepare.

A few hours later, he walked out to the living room they’d decorated the night before. He stood at the arch of paper links, his gloves discarded and suit on. He fidgeted with the edges, wanting everything to be perfect for Logan.

When they walked out, it felt like his breath was sucked out of him. His eyes swept over Logan’s frame, their dress accentuating their features. Logan’s smile could have sent birds singing when Virgil’s eyes finally made their way back up. He held out his hand for them to take as they arrived. “You look gorgeous.” He murmured in awe.

Logan chuckled, dropping their bouquet gently onto the couch. “Thank you. You look amazing as well.”

Virgil gripped Logan’s hands tightly, knowing he was first. He looked directly into their eyes while he spoke. “I’ve chosen you. To be no other than yourself, loving what I know of you and trusting who you will become. In a world that is based on who you were destined to love at birth, I’ve chosen to love you. It is free will but that does not mean it is false love. I will gladly share your name and care for you, in sickness and in health, in fair weather and storms, in every battle life throws at us. I will stand by your side and fight with you. We shall always be equals in this marriage and I would never wish it any other way. I love you and take you, Logan Croft, to be my unlawfully wedded spouse.”

Logan smiled, squeezing Virgil’s hands before beginning. “All I have in this world, I freely give to you. I promise to love you every second of every day, not just for a moment, nor for an hour, nor for a day, nor for a year, I will love you until eternity ends. Until the mountains crumble into the sea, and the oceans rise to consume the land, I will love you with everything I have. I will put you back together when you are falling apart, I will laugh with you, grieve with you. Our love is unique and something I will cherish beyond anything. I found you without the aid of a string, without anything tying our souls together, and our love is stronger for it. We have fought to love, fought to live in a world that does not want us, and we have grown and clung to each other through it all. I cannot tell where I end and you begin and I would have it no other way. I love you with all my soul and take you, Virgil Storm, to be my unlawfully wedded husband.”

They both carefully untied the gray strings around their pinkies, Virgil tying his around Logan’s left ring finger before Logan tied theirs around Virgil’s. Once they did that, they shared a kiss. Logan was the first to pull back, their eyes going down to look at the soul string tied around their finger.

The part tied at the base was now a glowing silver instead of a muted gray. Following the ends, one ended as normal while the other had grown and now connected to one of Virgil’s ends. His own string was also glowing a bright silver while the connecting string was a soft pink.

Virgil stared in shock before locking eyes with Logan. “Do you know what this means?”

“That people who have cut strings can choose their next soulmate? Or that the prejudice against those with grey and black strings is no longer justified? That we could probably go register at a courthouse and be lawfully wedded now? That-”

Virgil surged forward and captured their lips with a kiss. “It means that no one can tell us we are broken. No one can rip us apart.” He whispered before Logan tilted their head up for more kisses.

#tsshipmonth2020 #analogical #soulmate au #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace!logan #aphobia mentioned #transphobia mentioned #ace writes

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gr3atg1g1nth3sky · 3 years

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some shit i wish i´d told my adhd ass earlier about surviving academics; a very much needed self reflection

- this varies from person to person and their learning styles but, you might not be aware of the fact that what could be bringing you down is what you think is going to help.

let me explain: i used to spend hours trying to find the perfect aesthetic study app, or went on youtube searching up the “must have chrome extensions” and whatnot. but by the end of the day, the only thing i had managed to achieve was to waste some damn storage and gigabytes, lmfao. with adhd, it is easy to lose all motivation to achieve the goal you first set yourself due to being so focused on something, that you block out all other thoughts but that one thing. for others, having shit look pretty is helpful. for me, it only gets me side-tracked. find what works for you.

- the ability to hyperfocus can be keeeeewwwl, so use it to your advantage, hoe.

i remember getting my work show-cased for the first time in who knows what. why? because it was writing. i love writing. i remember getting that whole paper done...w i t h o u t s t o p p i n g. bitch i KNOW. bam. i fucking felt like i had superpowers, focusing that well. and it was because i geniunely enjoyed that topic. soooo, CHOOSE SOMETHING THAT YOU´LL ENJOY MFKER!!!!!!!!!

cant think of anything else and also shiiiit i have this assignment due soon LMFAO bye fam✌ reblog if ya want a part two or smth i dunno

#adhd #adhd things #adhd tumblr #productivity #academics #hyperfocus #adhdlife #learning styles #study tips #neurodivergent #actually adhd

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templepriest-motherfucker · 4 years

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I am unable to express the frustration and feelings of worthlessness at my current situation. Disclaimer: I know other people have it worse and I’m fine physically and am safe.

But how do I even begin to talk about this. I’ve grown up as the “smart kid” then got a full tuition scholarship in my university’s honors program, graduated with two degrees. I had over 160 credit hours. I’ve spent time working on high level genetic barcoding projects for the EPA, I’ve published papers, I’ve won international awards for my writing. My entire family sees me as some scientist, writer, translator, someone who’s going places.

I was told, with my academic achievements and experiences, I’d easily get a job making 50k right out of college. “Our honors students work for multinational corporations across the country, we have students at NASA, working mid-level positions for the NPS and EPA. That’s what you’ll be doing, don’t settle for anything less.” they said. And I believe it, because I have friends and classmates who did just that. But...I didn’t.

And I don’t know if that’s a personal failure on my part. If I should have gone to grad school, or stayed in Michigan, or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough on my applications. It’s a coin toss: half the time I think it’s my fault and half I don’t.

Because at the end of the day, I’ve applied to over 350 jobs. I’ve fucking tried. I’ve written cover letter after cover letter and made an entire CV. I did everything they told me would work (but did I really? did I do it well enough? did I put enough blood sweat and tears into that linkedin profile, or was I doing the bare minimum?)

is it me or the end of the world? Am I unemployed because the world is going to shit and there’s a raging pandemic, or am I just using that as an excuse? People have found jobs in the last five months, it’s not impossible (why am i acting like it is? I cant tell what’s real anymore)

I don’t want to measure my worth by how much I produce for a capitalist system. I do things I enjoy, I’m an activist, I try to be a good and helpful person. I pick up litter off the beach and am friendly to everyone I meet, isn’t that enough? Sometimes I believe it is, sometimes not.

Am i the worthless ungrateful lazy hippie millennial they say I am?

Or am I finding my meaning in another way?

but then...

Am I truly okay with how I’m existing in my life right now?

Or am i deluding myself into thinking that, so I can ignore my self loathing?

.......

Do I really even want to be a part of a system that will deny me opportunities for the style of my hair and length of my shorts? One that measures a persons worth by the color of their skin and number of revolutions around the sun?

Maybe I do. Maybe that’s why I’m so restless and depressed. But maybe not.

#vent #unemployed #unemployment #unemployed life #2020 grad #2020 graduate #pandemic life #life during covid 19 #anti capitalist

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ceasarslegion · 4 years

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its 2:30am and i havent made much leeway on this paper but i just need to vent for a second yall

im sick of this shit

i had lower expectations for myself going into this year because of the [gestures vaguely] but man im sick of being the one whos expected to lower that because the system refuses to change or accommodate anything

what has online learning even been? i only have 2 classes that are actually synchronous,, the rest refuse to make accommodations for anything and essentially lay the blame on us if we cant basically teach ourselves the shit that we’re paying THEM to teach us

and what have we done, really? i havent absorbed shit. im too preoccupied with madly flailing in the ocean of bullshit that is online learning just to keep myself afloat to actually learn how to swim. you cant learn that safely without solid ground to retreat to and someone to pull you up in case something goes awry, and they just threw us in the middle of the pacific and blame us when we get saltwater in our lungs. My only goal this year academically is just to PASS, but its hard not to feel stupid when you have a prof who throws in 3 graded quizzes every week and refuses to give partial marks when you get SOME options on multi-option questions right. I’ll tick 3/4 of the options right, but it’ll mark the whole question as a 0. I’ve failed a lot of quizzes in that class that I would’ve done well on if he just gave partial marks. I got most of the answers right. Why are you perpetuating an all or nothing mentality right now? If you talk about how much you care about your students’ mental health in one more class email im gonna throw my whole laptop out the window. Fuck.

and that’s not an outlier. all of my classes are pulling this shit to some extent. Not that specific case, but... a million more assignments and readings than previous years and fuck all else. Total disregard of time spent per class per student because who gives a shit when it’s asynch, right? 60 pages of readings, minimum, screenings because I also study cinema, massive papers, and then 4-5 hours of lectures? All in one day? How many hours do you think are IN a day?! “noooo dont speed up your lectures you might miss vital points!” yeah and i cant get anything fucking DONE if i dont bump it to 2x speed. “make sure you get enough sleep!” on your schedule? 4 hours is my batting average. I closed my commission. I stopped my hobbyist writing, which is why y’all haven’t seen an AO3 update from me since August. I don’t draw anymore. I don’t read anymore. If I’m lucky I might have the mental energy after all this to play 15 minutes of Animal Crossing, but then I get a headache because it’s more. fucking. screen time. Don’t blame me for splitscreening my lecture and notes with discord or tumblr when you’ve consumed my existence to such an extent that I only get a reprieve when I sleep. God forbid I allow myself some fleeting sense of joy, for it may take away from the hammer slowly chiselling away at my psyche. I literally can’t afford to be burned out. But I am. And I’m tired, and I wanna lay down, and I wanna take a walk in a park again. I wanna sit down in the grass and read my book or listen to McElroy podcasts and toss nuts at the squirrels like I used to, and then forget about what I brought just to watch them for hours, like I used to.

Winter’s rolling in, though. Which means they’ll be hibernating until march. I really fucking hate the cold. I have 5 papers due in 2 weeks, all within 3 days of each other.

This isn’t even adding onto the fact that this is a psychologically damaging collective trauma that we’re all going through right now. This doesn’t even account for the mental shit I have that makes it that much harder to learn in standardized environments and that much harder to absorb material. I don’t feel like a person this year. I feel more like a shell.

How dare you charge me full tuition for this fucking bullshit. Take your fake concern about our mental health and shove it up your ass. If you really cared, you wouldn’t be charging me for memberships that are closed and slapping us with no-extension policies in the middle of a pandemic. Shove it up your ass. I should’ve gone to McGill

#vent post #plagueblogging #shut up dames

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crowsent · 4 years

Text

the man hasnt even started the stream yet and his chat is spammin “technolate” truly the best and most supportive fans

amazing

i have to make my own fences like a loser

“tommy is this your credit card? let me read the numbers aloud tommy”

“they keep dying on my thorns”

then fucking remove your armour mr technoblade??????????? you have the option to remove your armour

i know you have trust issues and that the last time you removed your armour tommy tried to kill you but like

you can remove your armour, find someplace else for your zombie villagers to be in, and then put the armour back on

you have options mr blade

you can make unenchanted armour for the purposes of moving your damn zomvillagers out the way if you really dont wanna be armourless

you have the materials

you have the opportunities

fucking seize them

mr blade: “my sleep schedule is terrible”

my dumb ass, waking up at 10pm on a monday after falling asleep on a 6am the same monday, after not sleeping for 2 days on sunday and saturday: “damn right your sleep schedule is terrible”

i have good self-awareness

mr blade: “im not stalling”

proceeds to stall:

• “happy new year! i forgot that happened”

• reads donations

• begins to try and cure his zombie villagers

• makes fun of skeppys “clickbait” title (it is clickbait by the way. the video is not structured like an actual manhunt vid. totally not a technosimp but techno was a fantastic hunter in the skeppy v techno manhunt. yep. techno was v fair about the entire thing go watch it if you havent hes great and skeppy was also there /lh)

• talks about chess

• talks about the Gifted Child™ Syndrome without ever saying the words Gifted Child™ Syndrome

• DONT DISRESPECT CHESS

(hes a fucking athena kid. im fucking TELLING YALL HES AN ATHENA KID and if i have to fucking write a goddamn academically cited paper to prove it with actual fucking receipts i goddamn will)

• even when tommy came on stream, techno immediately proceeded to discuss the Kings Fianchetto opening

• “i dont know what kind of science textbooks youve been reading, but youve spent too much money on them. those are trash. those are TRASH”

exactly mr blade. exactly. see? athena kid. hes smart. he went to college. he knows the score. mmmhmmm. yup. checks out mr. blade

• types “You’re talking sounds” -tommyinnit (genius)

• into the mc chat

• “Tommy, you’re talking words, but the only universal language: is sounds”

IF SBI NON CANON WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS READ AS AN OLDER BRO MAKING FUN OF HIS YOUNGER BRO EXPLAIN MR BLADE

Techno fucking lists out languages that do not have sounds like: sign language, written language, braille

and then fucking thomathy “tommyinnit” minecraft hits us with “and russian”

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST FOLKS

RUSSIAN IS A CATEGORY OF NON-SOUND LANGUAGE

and for a good few minutes, mr blade and associate tommyinnit talk about crimes and the fbi and using it to farm views. big brain moved here today

(and then tommys alexa turned blue when he said fbi and then they both freaked out it was great)

new york-ian

mr blade and tommyinnit just IMMEDIATELY trying to pander to new yorkers once they realise the population size. they out here fucking complimenting the statue of liberty (even tho its in new jersey), the empire state building, the bronx, queens, fucking SPIDERMAN

if they arent brothers

why they have this energy

prime to tommyinnit

sub to technoblade

yall

my heart

i love these two terrorists so much

(for legal reasons, i am obligated to say that they are video game terrorists please and thank you)

tommy, about music he wanna sing: its from nintendo

mr blade: nintendo copyrights EVERYTHING tommy they got like SUPER COPYRIGHT

tommy: well, technoblade, every last one of my videos uses nintendo music

mr blade: DUDE YOURE GOING TO DIE. nintendo will KILL you

“new york is not canon in the dream smp universe”

mr technoblade over here just fucking ruining every new yorkers day huh

yall hear that? new york is non canon

you want cock to join the revolution

tommy out here trying to be intimidating but hes stuttering, knocking himself off of things...

its great

i love their dynamic

im spawning the wither, somebody get me my sword

techno “one-liner” blade ladies and gentlemen

techno using the wither to vandalise lmanberg is very poggers of him

amazing mr blade

tommy is such a delight in this stream

“i dont know this man”

“why would you bring this near me im WEAK im FRAIL im LIKE AN OLD LADY”

thank you mr innit

if i had gotten this stream live yall bet your asses i would be chanting “blood for the blood god” with chat

chat is BLOODTHIRSTY

chat is feral

chat is amazing

thank you chat for being the chaotic fucking bastards yall always are

“lookit muh muscles. BITCH”

tommy

i love him

so last stream, techno and tommy waterboarded a hostage who died by a spider immediately after he was released

THIS stream, techno and tommy waterboard an orphan fox until he cries

good times

fundy drowned

canon?

wait

i just remembered

FUNDY GOT DROWNED BY HIS UNCLES

TOMMY AND TECHNO ARE FUNDYS UNCLES BRUHHHHHHH

these two fuckers legit said “what if i waterboard my nephew to the point where he drowns”

i find it really funny that techno is the one fanon portrays to be this remorseless out of control entity when the entire time during the fundy waterboard torture, techno is the one holding tommy back and saying that hes going to far

and last time, techno is the one chiding philza when philza just casually murders and slaughters his way around the map

bruh

techno has more of a moral compass than fandom gives him credit for

where is my "techno is actually the moral compass of the sbi” fanfic

the only dirt we have on dream is his dirt shack amiright? eyyyy hes homeless

techno

so funny

“useless, annoying, loud, british. you know. the worst combination” techno says

then he fucking makes tommy weapons, gives tommy the helmet, makes tommy weapons and tools and armour...

yeah.

“i will not rest until that entire country has been completely obliterated for what it did to me and phil, tommy”

ME AND PHIL

technoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

bruhhhh

mr blade please

LMANBURG IS MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

tommy what the fuck

what the fuck

tommy

what wait tahgjkjxbglsjbnouafsfv

WAT

“you could actually be, dare i say it, a friend” TECHNO

TECHNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“technoblade ill join you”

ANTARCTIC ANARCHIST COMMUNE POG

YES BITCH

SBI

“this bodes poorly for the eventual sbi meetup”

shut up

shut the fuck up

i cant handle this

i can handle the dream sapnap meetup conspiracy

but i CANNOT handle the sbi meetup conspiracy

techno please shut up

i cant

dont do me dirty like this man

you know how tommy keeps saying that hes weak and shit but like

he fought in wars

he has fucking armour, weapons, potions, gapples

he can hold his own in a fight

do you think tommy keeps calling himself weak bc DREAM calls him weak? like. his self-confidence and belief in his abilities is just eroded by dream so tommy thinks hes weak even if he isnt?

“we have sand at home”

at home

at HOME

bruhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

techno literally out here singlehandedly giving me serotonin

beak on

bless you

one of us

#salt liveblogs

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strongerwiththepack · 5 years

Text

Fab-Five-Feb: Alan

Did I say I was going to write regularly after Whumptober? Um…whoops? Well anyway I felt inspired by @gumnut-logic‘s Fab-Five-Feb challenge, even if I do struggle to write the littlest Tracy. Last minute as per here’s my random addition to this challenge.

“No! You cant!” Alan exclaimed as he entered the lounge, trailing behind a stern-faced Scott.

“This isn’t fair.” He moaned when he didn’t get any response.

Scott turned on him sharply and Alan had to backtrack slightly to look his big brother in the eye. He hardened his face into a glare.

“You can do better than this Alan.” Scott told him, waving a piece of paper in front of him.

“But I got a good score.” Alan pouted. He had taken some mock exams last week and the results had just come in this morning. It was safe to say Scott was not pleased with his efforts.

“You’re a Tracy Alan, I know you can do a lot better than this.” Scott replied stubbornly. “It’s final, you’re off rescues until your grades come up.”

Alan was furious. He had been working so hard to be a part of International Rescue. And what did his grades matter anyway? It’s not like he had to apply for jobs after school. He’d had one since he was 15. “But my scores are already better than Gordon ever got”.

Scott’s stern face slipped slightly as he glanced over Alan’s shoulder with a worried look. Alan turned sharply to see Gordon lying on one of the sofas. He quickly looked away bowing his head in guilt. He shouldn’t have said that.

Scott was angry now. “That’s enough Alan. My decision is final.”

Alan glared at Scott dead in the eye before storming off to his bedroom.

He slammed the door to his room shut and flopped face down on the bed. School sucked. It was boring. He just wanted to be out where the action was.

He heard a faint knock at his door and turned his head to see Gordon peer around the doorway. Guilt started to seep in again when he remembered what he’d said. He just turned away and buried his face back into his pillows.

He felt the bed dip slightly as Gordon sat down next to him and placed a comforting hand on his back.

“I’m sorry” Alan mumbled with his face still pressed into the bed.

“I know.” Gordon replied softly.

Alan sat up and Gordon pulled him into his side.

“Why does Scott expect so much from me?” Alan mumbled quietly.

“He just knows you can do better sprout. I went through the same thing you know?” Alan peered up at his immediate older brother. He knew Gordon had had a hard time with school.

“School never came as naturally for me as it does for you, I never quite reached that Tracy level of academic excellence that everyone expected me to.”

He snorted. “I mean I was following straight after John for Christ sake, Mr. Child Genius himself.”

Gordon sighed. “Teachers would always compare me to Scott, Virgil and John. Bit of a tough act to follow.”

His big brother looked down at him. “I don’t know if you remember but I used to get into a lot of trouble at school.”

Alan did remember. Gordon was always held back and their dad always had to go in to speak to his teachers. There was a lot of shouting in the house back then.

“Dad made me quit swimming for a while you know.” Gordon mused. Alan gave him a confused look, he didn’t remember Gordon ever not doing swimming.

Seeing his confused face Gordon continued. “I still swam recreationally but dad wouldn’t let me compete until my grades came up. It was the biggest thing in the world to me then. I was just getting on track for the Olympics at that age. It felt like dad was taking away the one thing I was best at. I was devastated.”

Gordon smiled sadly. “But he was right. I could do better. I just wasn’t motivated enough. And let me tell you, taking swimming away from me was definitely the right kind of incentive.”

Alan didn’t remember any of this. He knew Gordon had never been as book smart as John but he didn’t think his brother had ever struggled that much. When Gordon was in high school Alan had idolised him. His brother was like a machine. Getting up at 5am to do his morning training and then doing after school practice as well. Even then he still made time to hangout with Alan when he was at home. It’s no wonder he got behind in school.

“It was the worst few months of my life but I worked harder than I ever thought I could and in the end I finished school with good qualifications.”

“Scott’s just trying to do what’s best for you Al.” Gordon reassured and added “You know he secretly wants you to beat John’s scores.”

Alan snorted at that one. “John’s scores are insane.”

“Your scores could be insane too Alan. The only difference between you and John when he was your age is that John studied day and night to get the grades he did.” Gordon squeezed him lightly. “Put in the effort kiddo, I know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it.”

Alan was still upset about being grounded but he could hear the reasoning in Gordon’s words. “Can you help me?”

Gordon grimaced at that one and groaned “Urrggh fine, what are you working on?”

Alan beamed. “Advanced applications of quantum mechanics”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “I can already feel a headache forming.”

Alan bounded off the bed to get his tablet. He felt like he’d been given a new challenge. Beating John’s score? He’d never even thought to try before but maybe he could do it? And maybe Scott would ease up a bit if he knew Alan was putting in the effort.

He’d be back on rescues in no time!

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #alan tracy #Gordon Tracy #I have ignored any semblance of the TAG timeline here

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