#they already depend on money from blue states

[tamagirl21]

texas threatening to secede is the funniest thing, bc they'd never survive 🤣🤣

#texas #secede #they already depend on money from blue states #the second they secede theyd tank their gdp #they have nothing

[ponderingmoonlight]

Since I was bombarded with anon statements about me using AI again, I'll say it here on last time: I see and understand where artist come from, I get the frustration over "artists" claiming AI work as their own, selling those pics and getting quite some fame for it.

But accusing me of stealing because I let an AI software turn me and readers into jjk or demon slayer style pictures is a little insane, don't you think? Especially advicing me to just use pictures on Pinterest or out of the manga. I don't want to hurt or trigger someone, but isn't that exactly what stealing is out of your context as well? Isn't using screenshots of jjk anime or manga "stealing" as well? And don't get me started on using random pics on Pinterest where you simply can't find out who's the original artist anymore. The argument that AI gets feeded countless pics on the internet and consumes artists hard work in the process sounds absolutely depressing and I'd be pissed as well.

But when I thought about it more...When putting your stuff on the internet, you deliver it to basically the whole earth. Damn, even my fics were found on some Russian site translated and without stating I was the one writing it. I get the frustration, I get the hate! But at the same time I feel like you aren't im charge for what happens on the internet anymore. As soon as you publish your stuff on literally ANY site (since all of them are collecting your data like Thanos anyway), it will get feeded into that system. Who knows how many of my countless essays already landed in there and are a part of someone's work? Who knows how many phrases of my fics I would be able to find when searching with ChatGPT? This isn't talking your concerns down or explaining myself, but rather showing that it's literally ANY artist out there getting affected by AI. You could just search for a fic with Gojo and boom, ChatGPT delivers way faster than me.

But why are you still here, then? Because NOTHING compares to original art!

Like I said over and over, I'd love to collab with artists. But much to my understanding, a lot of them work for MONEY and since my content is FREE, I'm simply not able to pay for the sheer presentation. Also, when looking at my blog, you'll see that I'm using like 70% of anime screenshots by now.

Let me take this opportunity to ask: are you even familar with how generating pictures with the help of AI even works? To make it short, the ML algorithms get "trained" with a huge ammount of training data (we are talking about like 1 billion pics here, depending on the AI). Yes, that data is sourced from the internet. Yes, that data will most likely include the content of artists on the internet without consent (which isn't fair). BUT that art doesn't find direct use in the later generated pics. It rather helps training the algorithms in order to "learn" aspects and characteristics of the imagine in correlation to the picture you want to translate into a certrain art style (like in my chase) or based on the described properties that the image should have (e.g. Bing AI). To translate that: You don't type in "blonde girl with blue eyes" and the AI just shows you a stolen picture online that fits into that description but generates its own version of it based on the pictures it got trained with before. Of course, it surely depends on the AI you're using and it is your responsibility as a consumer to think about ethical correctness here. But same goes for the people simply hating on me over the fact that I'm using AI and accusing me of stealing while this is definetely not the chase.

I won't change my blog because of you, I will continue putting a pic here and there into a fic because not only I find it cute from time to time, but the people who request are thankful more than once because I'm able to make "their" fic feel a little more personal. I get this is controversial and that some people won't feel comfortable on this blog because of it, which is sad but life. I can't even count how many times I've got rude messages because the jjk screenshots I've took myself out of the anime are someone else's artwork, because the manga panels are also artwork and I'm stealing them for my own content. I feel like I'm always in the wrong here, so I'll continue what I'm doing and what makes me happy.

Also, let me get this straight: I'm a writer who uses AI generated pics from time to time in order to spice up a cover and you're able to see that in the very first entry on my blog. It's really not that deep over here.

Have a nice day everyone

[strangelove97]

"Put your money on me"

"Put your money on me."

Ice puts his glass down on the bar counter and looks at Maverick. The reckless pilot's gaze seem far too intense for the simple bet Slider proposed in between rounds. In the background, Hollywood, Sundown and Wolfman are huddled around a mechanic bull, trading a few crumpled bills and laughing.

Maverick is still holding his gaze, resting casually against the counter in his usual white shirt, blue jeans, cowboy boots attire. Oddly, there are dark circles under his eyes even though he's been on shore leave for at least a week already from what Ice knows.

The evening is the first they're spending around each other since the shorter pilot's last 4 months deployment (the result of yet another pissed off admiral) that started with doors slaming and shouts echoing in the house they discreetly share when they're stationed together.

The time apart came as a reprieve for Ice after one too many argument about Maverick's reckless behaviour, on the ground and in the sky. Being with Maverick was giving him whiplash, oscillating between the moments of harmony, their planes in the sky together and their wings almost touching, moving seamlessly together without talking, and the clash of teeth in the heat of their bedroom. He was used to the tension of air combat, the speed at which everything could go south during a hop, but here and then he felt like he was the one who could not keep up o the ground.

Eyes still locked with Maverick, Ice straightens and enunciates loud and clear:

"My money is on Maverick."

The other aviators perk up at Ice's statement, surprised to see him partake in their goofing around when he stuck to drinking in his corner of the bar for the last months.

"Come on, Kazansky, there's no way Mitchell's short ass beats my Texan training !" Wolfman is waving his Stetson in the air, clearly intoxicated.

Ice turns around and orders another drink, ignoring Maverick's smile and the pilots' jabs.

When his turn comes, Maverick holds onto the mechanical bull like his life depends on it, and beats Wolfe's time by 2.5 seconds. He lets the others hoist him up in their inebriated state, laughing and looking anywhere but in Ice's direction.

Later, when Maverick's fist is tight around his shirt and Ice tries to catch his breath, words come tumbling down his mouth and he's the one, for the first time, to make a confession whilst the other silently acknowledges it.

"I missed you."

He can't see Maverick's eyes, huddled as they are in a darkened corner behind the building. But where the previous kiss was all bite, urgency and heat, the next one is slow, loving.

Tender.

This song came up while I was driving and the scene came to life in my head. I'm really tired and this is just a first draft, I may come back to edit it later, don't know. Tell me if you liked it!

#top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun 1986 #icemav #iceman x maverick #Spotify

[frasermints]

Hey! The vast majority of non voters are people who are in such maligned, marginalized circumstances that voting has never materially benefitted them ever, but you've never given a shit about their circumstances because you're in a position where voting DOES effect you, and THAT is your privilege!

You calling the poorest, most disabled, most violently oppressed people in the US "at fault" for the political crisis for not voting is actually you being a disgusting classist racist! And also politically illiterate in what a normal voter turnout is under democracy. Genuinely hope you learn to extend empathy to people who've never felt any ounce of political power in their life and RIGHTLY so not trust the system to advocate for them, you vile piece of shit 👍

hey, listen. i know you're angry and probably very very young and likely wouldn't be able to sniff out a case of "not for you, rabbit ears" if it were staring you in the face. but voting does actually materially benefit you, always.

i understand recency bias has influenced a good majority of y'all that have just become eligible or just started to pay attention to ampol in a serious way either since oct 7 or since mid 2023 when campaigning started up again. but it shows your lack of attention, insight, and political knowledge to say that voting does not benefit people that are marginalized. especially voting in us elections.

i am one of those people. i grew up on SNAP and WIC and independently still qualify for SNAP. the only reason i am not on SNAP is because i live with my mother and washington state considers me a dependent with combined income. i have been multiply disabled for my entire life and have more medical debt than you can fathom. i am not white. i am visibly transgender. all of these things impact my ability to vote in person. but you didn't consider any of these things before you sent this, did you?

i also should not have to qualify these things when i make the point to stir and promote political engagement. the only point where i politically have a leg up is that i vote absentee, because my state has mail in ballots by default, and it's somewhat easy to register in washington state. that's it. that's the only part of this where i have it easier.

we all benefit from political engagement. voting is the most crucial part of political engagement. protesting is useless when it is illegal. writing to your representatives is useless when your representatives are fascists. sending money overseas is useless when you are legally no longer allowed to have a job or a bank account. making ragebait posts on twitter and resharing infographics on your insta stories does fuckall when you live in a country ruled by an 80 year old nazi. but you, hiding behind those cute anonymous sunglasses enjoying your time on the internet like the nineteen year old jobless nobody like you are, don't understand that. because you're angry, and you're taking that anger out on someone that is also angry instead of directing it somewhere productive. and here i am doing the same because of it. but i'm also gonna give you some fucking information at the same time. because you wasted my morning sending this to me.

project 2025 is going to happen if we do not vote blue across the board and at that point you will literally not be allowed any form of political engagement. life will be worse for you than it already is now.

also, just because "normal" during a midterm means "less than during the primaries and generals", doesn't mean the turnout we have during the primaries and generals is something good or something to strive for. we need to be better than that if we actually want to move past the stale fucking 80 year old center right democrats we currently have speaking for us. we need to aim for 100% voter turnout. i will not settle for less.

there are also plenty of things elected democrats have done that have materially benefited us. plenty of things the Biden Administration has done! but again none of you fucks are paying attention!

inflation reduction act and medicare - access to prescriptions for disabled people, highlighting insulin caps and the ability to negotiate even lower. we are paying significantly less than we were before this legislation was signed.

bipartisan infrastructure law - specific provisions for women and minority owned businesses, public transport, fish and wildlife, indigenous land.

bipartisan safer communities act - gun control legislation, expanding access to telehealth under medicaid and CHIP, expanding the medicaid and CHIP networks, allows NICS to look into potentially disqualifying juvenile records and closes the "boyfriend loophole", provides multiple grants for multiple mental health services.

respect for marriage act - defines marriage as any valid legal union between two people and

DEA rescheduling of cannabis - oct 2022 biden asked the DEA to consider rescheduling cannabis. reschedulings are rarely denied - deschedulings are rarely approved. this will almost guaranteed happen.

electoral count act reform (2) - makes it exceedingly difficult for another january sixth to happen

local democrats also codified abortion access and protections in michigan, ohio, and washington. local republicans have been a nightmare for it in florida and arizona. dook at what julie mccluskie has done for colorado.

and again, with resources like how to vote in every state, the excuse of "i can't" is lazy as hell at this point. people can literally show up at your door and help you fill out an absentee ballot or get to a polling station to vote curbside, people are allowed at the voting booth to help you with a language barrier or processing issue if you need it.

but. like i said. continue to be angry. continue to rage in my inbox, behind your anonymous sunglasses. continue to be disengaged. and then be all fucking shocked pikachu face when trump and the like-minded GOP get voted in, and everyone in southwest asia gets bombed to shit, and every queer USian gets legislated out of existence, and every latino not born here gets deported. continue to make this a me issue, and not a disengaged voter bloc issue. because this is all about me, someone that has voted in every single election since august 2018, and totally not about the youth vote that has notoriously been disengaged and fucking useless in american politics. sure babe.

#anonymous #asks #answered #ampol #american politics #long post #i was drafting more of this in the car but i forgot a lot of it tbh #anyway #i'm so mad lol

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - The Price of Progress - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3

Snippet:

Under the table, Medarda's gloved palm drops to his knee. The gesture comes off as effortlessly natural. Her smile is eye-to-eye; an enticement.

"Shall we be explicit now?" she purrs.

Silco says nothing. On Zaun's streets, the overture would earn her a slit throat. In the brothels, she'd be put through her paces, and put in her place. Here, she gets no reaction at all.

This isn't a seduction. This is gamesmanship.

To her, he is no different from the scores of fools she's finessed in the Council. She knows exactly how to wield her wiles, to leave a man witless, and herself victorious. That's how they are, these Topsiders.  All lesser beings are public domain to be exploited for personal gain.

And the Medardas lead the pack. In Noxus, their wealth is as legendary as their greed. A dynasty built upon bloodshed; a family name synonymous with warfare. All of the Council's holdings in total would likely not be worth a jewel on General Medarda's dagger.

Her daughter is no different. She is steeped in her family's heritage of ruthlessness, even as she envelops herself in the diaphanous costume of goodwill. In Piltover's gilded halls, she plans her conquests like military strategies, cloaking them in the sublanguage of alluring glances and elusive promises, followed by the tactical precision of bold decrees.

Going against Topside's ethos of never instrumentalizing magic, she'd finessed the Council into funding Talis' Hex-tech research. In the span of six years, thanks to the Hex-Gates, she had transformed Piltover from a charming city-state into a technological juggernaut, rivaling empires like Demacia.

And the price of the progress was paid by the Undercity.

What was once an independent industrial zone whose technology, raw material, and labor were centered on local means, had already been systematically desecrated by Topside through taxation, legislation and outright coercion. The Fissures had lost their autonomy piecemeal: first the mines, then the smelteries, and finally the refineries. Their auto-dynamic industrial system was diametrically opposed to Piltover's aims for monopolizing those resources for itself.

The Hex-Gates worsened the decay.  Year after year, they brought forth trade delegations, each bearing waves of change. New goods flooded Topside's markets in exchange for those the Undercity held dear: stone, iron, copper. And bodies. With each delegation, the cost rose higher. From a few hundred workers per annum, to thousands.  From one million tons of raw materials every five years, to triple that amount within one. Every time there was a fresh influx of goods, the prices rose hand-in-hand with the death toll.

The Undercity’s crippled development, and the creation of a dependent, one-legged economy, led to stagnation in legitimate growth and a spike in organized crime.  By the time Silco became the luminary kingpin of the Lanes, the Undercity threatened to collapse into bedlam.

But who sees bedlam beneath the feet of Piltover's rising towers?

At the surface, the Gates glowed as bastions of progress. Belowground, Silco's forces took to the streets. His men ran roughshod over both the criminal underworld and the self-ordained overlords. Through the profits of Shimmer, he bought off the Enforcers. Through subterfuge and violence, he asserted control over the gangs. At his zenith, almost all of the Undercity was his domain, gripped not by an iron fist, but strings pulled from the shadows.

In the end, none of it mattered.

There were a million luxuries his domain would never experience, no matter how much power Silco accrued. He was a faceless king, his crown forged with Fissure-bled steel—but his kingdom was a slag-heap compared to Piltover's blue skies. Even the chem-barons, perched high above the ugly rookeries of the Sumps, were like birds in wrought-iron cages; their lives devoted to money, sex, drugs, and depravity. All to distract from the putrefaction of the smog, the poison in the waters, the corruption in the air.

All to avoid contemplating what came after.

The Hex-Gates stole more than just the Undercity's livelihood. They swallowed its soul. Talis, by building the Hex-Gates, was the architect of their downfall. But Medarda was the one who signed the decree—and sealed their fate.

Now here she sits, hand on Silco’s knee, smiling.

#asks #arcane league of legends #arcane #arcane silco #silco #arcane mel #mel medarda #silco x mel #melco #fanfic #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane meta

[sleeplessgreaser]

The Music of Chapter 7

To begin with, I want to give full disclosure: I didn't know shit about vinyl records until like 2 days ago, and there was a lot I had to learn about records and stereos so I could be as accurate as possible. In this post I'll go over the music that Johnny and Dally buy at the record store in chapter 7 of my fic, "I Don't Think He's Ever Seen a Sunset".

Before I could start writing, I did a thorough search on the musical artists greasers listened to in the 50s and 60s. Of course, Elvis Presley was an obvious answer, but I wanted more than that. According to what I found, greasers' taste in music had a good variety; mostly depending on where they were located in the United States and what circles they ran in. An important note to remember is that greasers are just a "genre" of people, and their taste in music is decided on a communal as well as personal scale. So I tried to stick with a few artists whose names just kept popping up. Those artists were: Eddie Cochran, Johnny Burnette, and Chuck Berry.

The first song mentioned in chapter 7 is "The Train Kept A-Rollin'", specifically the cover done by Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio in 1956. In the chapter, Johnny hears Dally mention Tiny Bradshaw to the store clerk. Tiny Bradshaw was the original artist of the song, however Johnny Burnette's version is a rockabilly rendition of it. A fun fact about Johnny Burnette's version is that it's believed to have been the first use of an intentionally distorted guitar in the rock music genre. (Of course, let's not forget that the use of an intentionally distorted guitar had already been present in blues music! Remember: Rockabilly was heavily inspired by black music, and we should always remember to give credit to the original creators, especially when those creators aren't well credited in the first place.)

I truly believe that "The Train Kept A-Rollin'" by Johnny Burnette would be one of Dally's favorite songs. It reminds me of him in so many ways, and I just think it fits his entire persona.

On the flip side of that single was "Honey Hush" and I won't lie to you, this song is very problematic. This song was also a rockabilly rendition of a previous blues song, this one being written by Big Joe Turner. The lyrics to this one are heavily sexist and even involve implications of domestic violence. I'll say this once, and then just put an asterisk next to any other songs that this applies to: I only included this song because my autist brain would never allow me to be untrue to these original pieces of history.

The next songs to be mentioned are from Elvis's second studio album, also from 1956. This album is absolutely beautiful and I love every song on it; excluding Old Shep, because that song is Depressing As Hell. I won't go through every song on this album, but I'll talk about the ones I mentioned in my fic.

"Rip It Up" is the first song on the A side of the record, and to me it is the epitome of a young adult's life in the 50s and 60s. This song, as well as "Paralyzed" and "So Glad You're Mine" just feel like Johnny's kind of music to me. Upbeat with a hint of dramatics, paired with romanticism as well as the idea of living a happy life despite having pretty blatant problems. (Also, "I'm gay every morning, and at night I'm still the same" just kills me every time I hear it.)

The second single the boys find is Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues" from 1958, which I feel is just an absolutely perfect song for The Outsiders as a whole. It's an example of a song that both greasers and socs could enjoy and find understanding in, though I think a greaser would definitely find more enjoyment in it than a soc would given that it's a rockabilly song about struggling with money issues. Now, in chapter 7 I remarked that the boys would most likely not enjoy the flipside of this single, "Love Again", but I need you to understand: I am in love with this song. The lyrics are very clearly aimed towards Cochran's female audience, which explains why the boys wouldn't like it, but (as a man) I have to say that the melody is just so nice.

After that they found another one of Eddie Cochran's singles, "Twenty Flight Rock" from 1957, and I tell a short story about Dally, Johnny, Steve, and Two-Bit going to see the movie "The Girl Can't Help It". I mention the actress known as Jayne Mansfield, who was apparently quite the sexual icon back then! It would make sense that Two-Bit would be obsessed with this platinum blonde woman, who was featured in Playboy magazines and starred in some very spicy movies. Also, here's a fun fact that I just learned while writing this: She's Mariska Hargitay's mom?? You know, as in the actress of Olivia Benson from Law & Order: SVU???? I'm absolutely stunned by this because I found this woman under very different circumstances, but Mariska Hargitay is my QUEEN.

Okay, sorry for that tangent, back to the music…

"Twenty Flight Rock" was first featured in the movie "The Girl Can't Help It" and was later released as a single a year later, with a flipside of "Cradle Baby". Once again, the B side song is problematic, but hey: *

Last but not least we have Chuck Berry's album Chuck Berry is on Top, released in 1959. Again, I won't talk about every song on this album, just the few I mentioned. "Sweet Little Rock and Roller" is a good greaser-esque song about, well, a sweet little rock and roller dame. Then there's "Roll Over Beethoven" which is about someone wanting to hear a certain song on the radio. And finally, "Johnny B. Goode". This is a classic song that everybody knows, and when I had the idea of the guys using it to poke fun at Johnny I just had to include it. Besides, let's be honest, with that guitar riff?? That's a greaser magnet! Disclaimer, though: Chuck Berry is actually a pretty shitty person apparently, so…

Now, as you might have noticed, all of the songs and albums I listed were released after 1955 and before 1960. I'll be honest, I didn't do this on purpose - but, I will say it sort of makes sense! Not every song is going to be a greaser hit, and I imagine when groups find songs they like they hold on to them for years. I also believe that, based on their upbringing, the gang is likely a little "behind" when it comes to music. From my own experiences growing up, I always managed to find songs well after they were released, but I'd fall in love with them nonetheless. Also, during this time, music from Britain had begun creeping into the US, and I don't think our All American Boys would enjoy that very much. True American rockabilly was starting to get drowned out by British rock and roll, and that would make it hard to find new music a greaser would proudly enjoy.

So, this has been my deep-dive on the music I included in chapter 7! My personal favorite songs are: The Train Kept A-Rollin' by Johnny Burnette (and the Rock and Roll Trio), and Love Again by Eddie Cochran. If you have any songs from this time period that you want to bring to light, please tell me about them!!

Finally: Here's the playlist, please enjoy :)

#i wrote this in a manic state #im posting this 2 seconds before i post the chapter #the outsiders 1983 #no sleep for greasers #sleepless writes #jally #elvis presley #johnny burnette #eddie cochran #chuck berry #50s music #60s music #music

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My website

Chapter 86: July 2016

It’s probably going to be another scorcher of a day; Gerry can sense it, even though the sun isn’t up yet. Lucky thing he doesn’t really feel it anymore.

Well…that’s not exactly true. He does feel the heat. It just doesn’t affect him as badly as it affects everyone around him. He’s taken to avoiding people…for a lot of reasons, actually…but one of the biggest is that he’s trying not to draw attention to himself, and he knows people are staring at him.

He’s lucky, actually, and he knows it. Not just to be alive, although that’s a pretty damn big thing, but to be able to wear the kind of clothing he prefers. He arrived in Washington, DC six weeks ago with no money, no identification, and no real clue what he was going to tell people. The only reason he hadn’t turned up in the borrowed—okay, stolen—scrubs from the hospital was because the man who’d first offered him a ride, a long-haul trucker called Jeff, had insisted on buying him real clothes at the first truck stop they’d come to. Which of course meant he turned up in a pair of navy blue work pants and a t-shirt with some macho bullshit about being a truck driver, but at least they weren’t tissue-thin bits of cotton meant more for keeping clean than protecting from the elements.

It took him two days, four different cars, and one close call with a police officer wherein he only managed to avoid an arrest for hitchhiking on the grounds that he was British and didn’t know it was illegal in the state—which was true—to get here, and he was exhausted, strung out, and aching. He can only imagine what he looked—and smelled—like, and it’s only that he was too weary to be embarrassed that he was able to walk into the British Embassy and ask for help. It might have done him a few favors, actually, since he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have been so keen to help him otherwise.

Actually, everyone at the Embassy has been uniformly helpful and kind to him, and he appreciates it. One of the staff members even helped him find a job—a temporary one, one that pays under the table in cash and therefore doesn’t have to worry about whether their employees are in the country legally or not, but it’s something that lets him afford food and a roof over his head…in theory. In practice, Gerry is somewhat disquieted to find that he needs neither. Food does nothing for his hunger; he doesn’t sleep, and when he does, he doesn’t get any rest from it. It’s a constant struggle to focus, to remember what year it actually is and where he actually is and what he’s actually doing, and sometimes it seems like every moment he’s ever experienced is playing all at once, like he’s standing in a room full of tape recorders all playing different tapes at the same time. He can pick out a word here and there, sometimes focus on a single tape, but for the most part it’s just…noise.

It’s all makeshift, a way of marking time, and really his life—such as it is—revolves around his daily visit to 3100 Massachusetts Avenue Northwest.

They’re…doing their best. He knows that. He gave them very little to work with, in the grand scheme of things, and the mills of bureaucracy grind slow but fine. It’s also not their only job, and this is apparently an election year (Gerry’s been hearing the chatter, mingled parts anxiety and vitriol, from the other guys in the kitchen; their dialect of Spanish is a little strange to him, but he can follow along okay, and he’s learned a bunch of new curse words), so they’re very busy. He can’t expect miracles, not after he already got one.

Honestly, going every single day is probably overkill, and under any other circumstances Gerry wouldn’t bother. But the ambassador has taken a shine to him for some reason and insists he come by for breakfast before he goes on shift or dinner after he gets off, depending on when the restaurant manager needs him. Today either is an option, since the restaurant is closed…which is technically Gerry’s fault…but he thinks he’ll probably go to breakfast anyway.

He doesn’t want to be alone too long right now.

Gerry lights up the cigarette—a Dunhill menthol, not his preferred brand, but Woodbines are apparently hard to come by in the United States and he can’t buy any without ID anyway, so he has to go with whatever he bums off his coworkers—and leans back against the stone curving around the base of the statue, a half-dressed man with his arms outstretched. It’s a memorial, which isn’t exactly a shocker; you can’t swing a dead cat around here without hitting at least three memorials or monuments to the past or the dead. He’s seen a fair few of them since being here, since most of them are free to visit, so it gives him something to do. The war memorials, of which there are plenty, make him a bit uneasy, but he hasn’t encountered anything particularly troubling, not even traipsing around Arlington National Cemetery. This particular monument is to the Titanic, more specifically to the men who stood aside and let the women and children go ahead. There’s something comforting about it, but Gerry’s pretty sure it’s nothing to do with his connection to Terminus and everything to do with him empathizing with people willing to sacrifice themselves so that their loved ones will survive. After all, they had to know they were likely to die if they remained.

The face of the man in the restaurant’s toilet swims before him. Something turns in his stomach, and it’s not because of the nicotine.

An overdose, the paramedics said, one of the local junkies who’d finally pushed things too far, bought something too potent, hit the wrong vein. Probably quick, he was likely dead before they ever arrived. They seemed detached over the whole thing, although Gerry guesses they have to be to stay in that job; if you started breaking down every time you lost someone, you wouldn’t last long. The restaurant owner doesn’t really have any such excuse, so his reaction—to curse the dead man up and down for picking his bathroom to shoot up in, forcing him to lose a day’s business—seemed callous and disproportionate. The other undocumented workers in the restaurant made themselves scarce, understandably when the cops showed up, but at least when Gerry went back into the kitchen to tell them the coast was clear he found them in a circle praying for the man’s soul. They invited Gerry to join them, and he did, even though he didn’t understand the words…or believe there was anyone on the other end listening.

He can’t even pretend it was an accident. Not really. The glowing black ichor running through the man’s veins tempted him, sang a siren’s song to the hungering ache inside him, and Gerry knew he had to find an excuse, any excuse, to touch his arm, so he made a pretext of helping the obviously staggering man get to the bathroom and it flooded into him, filled him with the sensation he was growing accustomed to in a way he really shouldn’t.

The man was his fourth, not counting the coroner at Christiana Hospital. Gerry tried to convince himself that it’s a kindness, that it’s not like he’s really doing anything. He’s come to realize that what he’s seeing, the black masses or ribbons or striations, are the mark of Terminus, a sign of how the person is going to die, and he tells himself that he’s just giving that death a purpose, that if they’re going to die anyway it’s better to serve a higher purpose than just be dead, right?

He can almost feel Martin frowning in concern over his shoulder.

He knows better, of course. It’s the kid that told him otherwise. The kid he didn’t touch despite seeing the black band wrapped around her torso, partly because he’s not going to go around grabbing random kids and partly because he refused to feed off a child. He made himself watch, though, made himself see her die because she deserved that, and sure enough she chased a ball into the street and he knew the car was going to hit her—but it stopped just in time, the girl was safe.

And then came the pain…

So he knows now. He doesn’t have to touch them, and if he doesn’t, they don’t actually die. But if they don’t, if he doesn’t touch them when he sees the mark, then he gets punished for letting them live.

Which is fine, because that was a goddamned kid. Gerry almost bites the cigarette in half and has to force himself to relax. She wasn’t any older than Melanie was when he met her—she deserves a chance to grow up, not to just be fodder for something like him. But it meant he was weaker than usual, frail and hungry and shaking, and his boss accused him of being drunk and he swore he wasn’t, which was true. It meant it was harder for him to resist taking the next time he saw a mark to take. Thank God it wasn’t another kid.

Not for the first time, Gerry tells himself that he has to get back to England, and soon. He needs to get back to Melanie and Martin. Not just because he needs to know they’re okay and for them to know he’s okay, not just because he needs to apologize for not sending for them, not just because he could really use a hug right now, but because he needs them to give him both some perspective and some help. The three of them worked out how to burn Leitners and figured out the sea shanties as a protective spell, they can come up with a solution to Gerry’s problem. He’s not altogether confident he can come up with the answer on his own.

He’s afraid.

It’s not fair, he thinks angrily as he takes another drag on the cigarette. Every other avatar—not that he’s met terribly many, but he’s heard of plenty—gets to have their feelings burned out of them. They enjoy what they do. But no, not Gerry. He’s not fooling himself, he definitely qualifies as an avatar, willingly or unwillingly. And he still has to feel—guilt, loss, yearning, all of it. He just hopes he still gets to feel positive emotions, too, but he won’t know until he sees Martin and Melanie in front of him.

In a way, that’s what scares him the most—the fear that he’s lost the good feelings. That there’s nothing left of him but death and despair. That he’ll see his brother and sister again and feel nothing, just an empty hole where his joy should be.

The sun crests the horizon, staining the statue and the pavement around Gerry the color of blood, which is probably a bad sign. With a sigh, he gets to his feet and turns to put the river at his left shoulder. Time to start heading towards the Embassy. It’s going to take him at least an hour, and he’s got to get there before the ambassador finishes breakfast or he’ll have to wait all day to talk to him again.

The city wakes up around him, as much as it ever sleeps, as he makes his way along the river, finishing his cigarette. He flicks the butt into an ashtray set on the corner where he parts ways with the Potomac, sloping past the Swedish and Icelandic embassies before heading into a more residential neighborhood. People are beginning to start their days, and one or two wave to him. Gerry waves back politely, but luckily none of them are so friendly they want to talk. The only exception is a small child who’s apparently quite excited about getting to go to his very first baseball game and wants to share that with the world; Gerry is trapped for several minutes while he rambles and only minds a little. He eventually gets away and continues his walk. He picks up speed a little. It won’t do to be too late.

In all, it takes just shy of two hours for Gerry to walk the five miles from where he started to where he’s going. He can hear the bells at one of the cathedrals in town tolling the hour as he makes his way past the statue of Winston Churchill and up to the ambassador’s residence. Eight o’clock on the nose. He’s timed it exactly right.

The housekeeper greets him with a warm smile and a hug before ushering him into the opulent hall and up the stairs to the morning room, where the ambassador and his wife are just sitting down. They look up with smiles of their own as they come in.

“Mr. Delano is here, sir,” the housekeeper announces, rather unnecessarily.

“Gerard, my boy, come in, come in,” the ambassador says jovially, rising and indicating the seat next to him. “Hoped you’d be joining us early.”

Gerry smiles wanly and takes a seat with polite greetings to both of them. He’s about the same age as their children, maybe a bit younger, which he thinks is part of the reason they’ve been so keen to help him; this is definitely above and beyond what the Embassy staff usually does for expatriate Brits lurking about the States. The ambassador’s wife studies him. “You look much better today. I was worried you were coming down with something.”

“No, ma’am, I’m fine, thank you,” Gerry assures her.

Breakfast is a relaxing affair; Gerry can’t really taste the food, but eats it mechanically and joins the conversation as appropriate. The ambassador has a few things to say about both the election currently going on in the United States and the turmoil apparently going on back in the UK, as well as a few other incidents he’s trying to craft his response to. When they’re about halfway done their meals, however, his wife turns to Gerry and says, “Gerard, how are things at the restaurant? What’s your schedule like today?”

“Oh…we’re closed today, actually,” Gerry says, a bit nervously. “Some bl—a man overdosed in the bathroom last night, just before closing time. The restaurant has to be closed today while they investigate and get things cleaned properly.”

“Ah.” The ambassador’s wife glances meaningfully at her husband. “So they aren’t expecting you to come in tonight?”

“No. And tomorrow’s my day off.” Unless Paolo can’t make it in again, in which case Gerry will likely be called in, assuming the owner can figure out how to get hold of him. Not having a mobile phone does help in that regard.

“Well, in that case…” The ambassador wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I have good news and bad news for you.”

Gerry’s stomach flips with nerves. He pushes his plate away. “Tell me the bad news first.”

The ambassador nods, as if he was expecting that. “The bad news is that we can’t expedite a passport for you. The office is just so backed up, what with…everything…that even under ordinary circumstances—which I think we can all agree these are not—you wouldn’t be able to get a passport inside of eight to ten weeks. And without being able to send copies of your documents to the office, it’s going to be harder. Especially without anyone to verify your identity.”

Gerry nods. He’s been expecting that, honestly. Especially since he gave his name as Delano and not Keay—he doesn’t want to be associated with his mother, thank you very much—but of course they can’t find his birth certificate, or a copy of his old passport. He supposes he could come clean, maybe by pretending he’s had some sort of amnesia, but there’s still the matter of verifying his identity. Legally, Martin and Melanie aren’t actually related to him by birth or marriage, so they qualify, but Melanie probably doesn’t count as working in a “recognized profession”. And then there’s the fact that they both think he’s dead, which would mean they would think an email asking them to verify his identity was a hoax or a scam. No, he’s right to keep them out of this.

On the other hand…eight weeks? He doesn’t want to be here that much longer. Martin’s birthday is in less than a month, and Gerry desperately wants to be home for that.

He says none of that, however. All he says is, “And the good news?”

The ambassador beams, reaches into his pocket, and withdraws an envelope. “The good news,” he says, “is that the rules regarding emergency travel documents are a bit easier to work with.”

He hands the envelope to Gerry.

With suddenly shaking hands, Gerry opens it. Inside is a small blue booklet folded over; when he opens it, he sees his own pale, washed-out face staring hollowly from the page. Listed alongside his name, age, and citizenship is a very precise travel itinerary…one that has him arriving in London just before noon tomorrow.

He looks up at the ambassador in surprise. “What…but I don’t have a ticket.”

“That’s in the envelope too,” the ambassador says, gesturing at the envelope again. Gerry looks and finds a folded piece of paper with instructions for checking into a flight.

“It’s the least we could do for you,” the ambassador’s wife adds. She smiles and pats his hand. “I thought you looked familiar, and I finally made the connection—you’re Eric Delano’s boy, aren’t you?”

“You knew my dad?” Gerry asks, surprised. He honestly didn’t think either of them were old enough, but…

“He was my uncle’s roommate in university. I didn’t know him well, but what I knew I liked.” The ambassador’s wife smiles again. “I think I would have married him when I got older if he’d asked.”

“Hey, now,” the ambassador protests, but he’s laughing. “Gerard, we want you to get home as soon as you can. And we know the restaurant doesn’t pay much. So, yes. You now have your travel document, and your ticket. You’ll need to apply for a passport when you get home, but this will at least get you there.”

A sense of relief washes over Gerry’s mind as he realizes that one, at least, of his earlier fears is unfounded. He hasn’t lost the ability to have positive emotions at all. He’s delighted—and grateful—and relieved. Tears well up in his eyes as the emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

“Thank you,” he says, a bit huskily. “I’ll never forget this. You have my word.”

“You’ll have to come see us the next time you come to the States for a visit,” the ambassador tells him. “Meanwhile, you have six hours, I’d say, before you need to get to Dulles and start checking in. I need to get over to the Embassy, but if you’d like to use the phone to call someone and let them know you’re coming…”

“They’ll be at work right now,” Gerry says, glancing at the clock.

“Well, before you leave for the airport, then.”

“I’ll call from the airport,” Gerry lies. He’s not going to call anyone. They think he’s dead; he can’t spring that on them over the phone. He needs to tell them in person, show them his tattoos and scars, let them feel him and know he’s real. Maybe let Martin See him properly. But for now…it can be a surprise.

“If you’re sure,” the ambassador’s wife says uncertainly.

“I’m sure.” Gerry smiles at her as warmly as he can. “Thank you again. Both of you. I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”

The ambassador stands and pats him on the shoulder. His expression, as he looks down at Gerry, is more serious than he’s been in the last six weeks. “Be safe. Be well. And use the opportunity to do good in the world.”

“I will,” Gerry promises. He doesn’t know how, but he will. There’s got to be something bigger than burning Leitners that he can do to help push back against the Fourteen.

That’s a problem for the future, though. For now, he’s got to check himself out of the temporary lodgings he’s been staying in, gather his few things, and figure out how he’s getting to Dulles—and where Dulles is, for that matter. He has a plane to catch.

He’s finally going home.

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #tma fanfic #tma #gerard keay #melancholy #smoking #mention of death (specifically death by drug overdose) #misuse of Terminus powers #implied/referenced US politics #implied/referenced Brexit

[moleshow]

what would you say to someone (me) who is thinking about moving to chicago

it's a good city. without information on what you're looking for, where you're coming from, what your line of work is, what your finances are like, or whether you want to study here i can only give general advice. so without further ado

what exactly is a chicago

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

POPULATION:

we have the largest population of polish people outside of poland

we are located within COOK COUNTY, ILLINOIS which contains the ring of inner suburbs that border chicago. our 3 transit systems are the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA), which operates the L (back to that in a second) and our city bus system. the suburban bus operations are run by Pace, and the L has two lines which extend into the northern suburbs of Skokie, a predominately jewish and to a lesser extend filipino neighborhood (don't quote me on that), and Evanston, which is where the main campus of Northwestern University is located. Metra runs our suburban commuter trains, but they don't own all of the tracks. metra trains have a few stops within the city, but generally serve the Greater Chicagoland area.

note that Chicago and Chicagoland are different places and the terms are not used interchangeably. chicagoland is always the burbs. this is a chronic issue: people from the suburbs will claim they are from chicago. do not let them trick you. ask them what neighborhood.

the CTA operates the Red, Purple, Yellow, Green, Brown, Blue, Orange, and Pink Line trains. all of these converge in the Loop. because they form a Loop. the other stuff in this picture that do not go into the loop are metra lines.

the "base point" for our address system is in the loop, at Madison/State. major roads will have numbers and N/S or E/W on them to indicate where they are relative to that intersection. you might hear, like, "5200 block on north clark", which will tell you where along clark that location is (in this case, clark street is 5200 N at foster).

regarding politics

if you live here, you will benefit greatly from understanding the politics. we have a council-mayor system. each city council member (known as an alder-wo/man/person or sometimes just alder) represents one of 50 wards. we use a weak-mayor system, but there's coalitions and mayors usually tap into that (unless they're hostile nutjobs)

as you might be able to tell there's a lot of politics happening here. to that point, we do big city democrat boss/machine politics here. you should look up richard j daley and then richard m daley to get a peek into that. it's the politics of knowing a guy

we have a new mayor. you might know this already but this is a lead-in to a larger point which is that chicago is, relative to the extent that any place can be after the 1980s, a union town. brandon johnson comes to us, broadly speaking, out of the Chicago Teachers Union (CTU). they are to city hall progressives what the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) are to the conservatives. teachers union vs police union. fight

note that our conservatives are not republicans. our conservatives and progressives are democrats, because everyone only votes for democrats. the national party labels don't apply so the policies are what's different

vexillology

we have one of the finest flags possibly in the history of man.

there is no east side because there's a lake.

where to move

you'll get more transit access for your money if you look for apartments on the north side east of ashland, or at the very least, damen. around the brown line might be tempting but it doesn't run 24h and i found that difficult to rely on when i was along it. the area i've described has decent redundancy so you can have a lot of options a few blocks apart.

older buildings almost always use gas stoves and steam radiators. that's something to be aware of when you're looking depending on whether or not you care.

rapid fire north side neighborhood ratings from someone who doesn't go west of ashland because i refuse to cross it

rogers park good, mid around loyola university, edgewater mid if you aren't on wilson, uptown good, andersonville overpriced and mid, ravenswood barely a neighborhood but cheap and mid

this area is so lame it's uninhabitable. over here it's always christian girl autumn. drivers are aggro as fuck, they all drive SUVs, and the food sucks. don't move there

continuing further south: lakeview after belmont (e/w) is good and better on broadway to the east. this is where boystown is due to gay men being there. lincoln park nice to look at but mid to be in. downright bad around depaul. "ranch triangle" is barely a neighborhood, wealthy and mid. near north side is complicated due to proximity to the Viagra Triangle. gold coast is not a neighborhood but has good peoplewatching. nonetheless, mid. old town is where they invent new ways to be mid. and river north is a nuclear mid-off but has fairly swank restaurants if you don't spend too much time there

6. the dollar

apartment prices vary depending on what amenities you want. a basic oldschool unit without a dishwasher or central air but with laundry in the building will generally set you back $750-1000 for a normal, rather than weird, studio. you shouldn't pay more than $1600 for a one bed. it is better to look for places in person but come off of anon and i can give you the name of a company i rented from that had good units in good areas for good prices. and parquet wood flooring.

if you are poor and or gay we have medical services for that. the howard brown health system does sliding scale and has locations across the city

things aren't too pricey here in terms of having fun but the main thing people do is drink, go to the lake, and drink at the lake. there's other stuff of course. the restaurants are good generally speaking and the industry is frankly enormous here. usually all around the same price point, we don't do a whole lot of the Fine Dining stuff here.

culture notes

this is longer than i intended it to be

we have sports teams only three of which matter. these are the cubs, white sox, and bulls. cubs and white sox are both baseball teams and appeal to different demographics. cubs fans usually live in the suburbs or on the north side, white sox fans are largely from the south and west sides. the bulls are a basketball team. you'll see all of this stuff on hats

we got a few newspapers: the chicago tribune, chicago sun-times, and block club chicago are some of our heavy hitters

all the cops and firefighters live out here in the bungalow belt

don't move there

[natalie-the-writer]

Because it's @0perfectimperfections0 turn to get incentive to do work, I created this actually-technically short story. UglyDolls related, of course. Good job finishing your assignments!

This story could technically go along with my other stories. It depends on how you want to look at it. Mandy × Lou is a mention.

What are we going to do with you, Baby Blue?

"Lou, could you get the- oh." A small smile spread across Wage's face as the orange doll caught sight of her temporary employee. He was slumped over the counter in the kitchen, head pillowed on his arms where he slept. Counting money was forgotten, the bills and coins pushed to the side so he had room. She shook her head and made her way over to him, putting a gentle hand on his back. The cook sighed, watching Lou peacefully sleep on. The guy needed a break. They'd been waiting on him to crash out for two days now, but nothing seemed to slow down the doll on a mission to earn his place in the eyes of the other dolls. He was already back to teaching and doing the paperwork for Ox, but he still hadn't won his place with some... less accepting dolls. It'd been almost a year of reform for him, but nothing felt like enough.

'He's going to run himself ragged,' she thought, hand moving slowly up and down his slouched back. Lou's eyebrows furrowed momentarily before he settled down again, subconsciously leaning toward the touch. His mental state and understanding of emotions got better day by day, but working habits were harder to break. Harder when some dolls only demanded more. One doll couldn't do the work of ten. That didn't stop Lou from trying.

Yes, she'd been one of the ones to initially be very skeptical of Lou, but who could blame her? Or anyone else who was? At the time, Lou had been dethroned from maniacal ruler and was not to be trusted. But since then, she saw him. The real Lou under everything. He was still snarky and quick witted in most areas, an almost permanent strut to his walk and perfect posture that could intimidate, but he was so much more than that. Everything he knew about dolls was drilled into him from creation. Everything he did was instructed of him from day one. He couldn't fight back. When he tried, he was almost broken. Confidence was a defense. Curiosity was hidden. Emotions were left void and incomprehensible until Ox came along. All of those things were coming up and being processed, giving them the Lou they should've had all along.

Lou shifted a little under her hand, pulling her from her thoughts. His face scrunched up in confusion, fingers starting to ball into fists. She shushed him, rubbing his back again. "You're alright, Lou. You can sleep." She said gently, mindful of her tone when he was like this. He stilled after a moment, going back to the peaceful sleep of before. She sighed, shaking her head once more, and said fondly:

"What are we going to do with you, Baby Blue?"

___________________________________________

Moxy sat on the counter beside Lou's head, running her fingers through the threads of his hair. It was incredibly soft - the softest hair she'd ever felt. No joke. She theorized it was because of him being a prototype, sewn by hand, but she hadn't found the right time to voice the thought. Lou was insecure about being a prototype as it was. Even if his hair was a nice thing, it was sometimes uncertain how he would react to his base status.

They didn't need to take steps backward in convincing him he was a real doll by noting a difference, no matter how good. It would hurt him if it wasn't the right time.

Wage had left her in charge of Lou when she walked in a few minutes ago to come talk to her friends. The other doll stepped outside the closed diner to call Babo for reinforcement in getting Lou back home without waking him. Nearly all the dolls could carry him - he was tall, but like many PrettyDolls, he was lightweight. Lighter than most, honestly - but they weren't about to risk waking him in an awkward carry, likely causing him to get frazzled and leave.

"You're adorable when you're sleeping." She whispered to the konked out doll, gently bopping him on the nose with her free hand. His face scrunched up in annoyance at her finger and he buried himself down further into his arms, bangs now a flatter mess from her brushing. She giggled quietly, resuming running her fingers through blonde locks. "Little Baby Blue."

The nickname was a new one. No one was exactly sure who came up with it and they rarely used it when Lou was concious due to how pouty he got, but when he was like this, it was hard to resist the new nickname. Baby Blue stemmed from one thing - his eyes. Sapphire eyes brighter than any other doll she'd seen before. The rest of the name latched onto his whole demeanor when he was learning something or interested - curious, trusting, endearing, and innocent. None of his years stayed on his face when he was asleep or relaxed. It made it easier to refer to him as 'Baby Blue' when he was asleep despite his eyes being closed.

The side door to the kitchen opened and Wage came back in, Babo in tow. The moment the taller doll saw Lou, he smiled. It was the only thing you could do when the doll was actually sleeping. Any sleep he got was less than he needed, but every minute of rest counted. "He's finally out, huh?"

"Yup." Moxy said, popping the 'p' with care. It was hard for her not to be loud, but for a sleeping friend? She could do it.

Babo came over to the table, putting one arm around Lou's back and the other under his knees. He easily hoisted the doll up to his chest, shifting so Lou could lay comfortably. The doll barely stirred, cuddling up against the grey doll.

Moxy really wished she had a camera.

"I'll get him home." He said, then paused. "I might actually take him to Ox's house so he doesn't wake up alone. Mandy won't be back until tomorrow. There's a sleepover at her kid's house."

"Good idea." Wage agreed, opening the door for the two. "Have a good night, Babo."

"Night, Wage. Night, Moxy."

"Goodnight!" Moxy called, lowering her voice at the last second. Definitely couldn't wake Lou so close to getting him to bed. Babo smiled again, nodded a final goodbye, and disappeared into the street, Lou held close to him. A thought crossed her mind:

What are we going to do with you, Baby Blue?

___________________________________________

Everyone knew Lou was getting tired. It was hard to tell unless you knew him as well as they did. He didn't have a clear understanding of his emotions sometimes, but he could sure as heck hide them along with his tiredness. When Lou started to hit his limit, he would throw himself into work, remain restless in an attempt to stay awake, and get snappier over time. Of course, he'd apologize for his tone later, but it was a clear show that he was offset about something, especially if it was coupled with him falling into a daze sometimes. This time around, it was exhaustion. Lessons on body limits hadn't gotten through his thick skull yet.

Looking at him now, pressed against his chest, Babo couldn't help but notice how small Lou looked. Sure, Babo was bigger than most dolls were, but it wasn't only size that made the blonde look smaller. His face was lax in sleep, his ear pressed over Babo's heart, and he was curled up in his arms like a...

Like a baby.

He snorted out a laugh to himself. If Lou ever heard that he looked like a baby, or a sleeping child, he would get so frustrated and usually wind up with his head in his hands. He almost stomped his foot once, only stopping when he seemed to realize how childish it was. Not many dolls noticed the action or how Lou's face flushed further as he glared at the offending limb, but Babo did. It was fun to just watch those arguments sometimes, pick up on little details the others wouldn't notice, and replay them to himself later. The near foot stomp was one of them. It showed how perfectly controlled Lou could have certain emotions yet still have lapses of losing control. He was learning.

A little shiver swept through the limp form in his arms, urging Babo to pick up his pace. It was a slightly chillier night as they headed into October. Babo and most other dolls similar to him would barely notice due to their structure, but the PrettyDolls had some issues with getting cold or hot. Lou was a more sensitive case with the chip in his neck. As much as it was water proof, it was a little more sensitive to temperature, as much as Lou tried to deny it. His suit was not the thickest material out there (somehow stiff and silky), so Babo needed to get him to Ox and under blankets soon or risk their sickness-prone friend getting a cold or migraine from that dreaded chip.

It made Lou who he was and gave him the ability to function. Why did it have to cause so many issues? Why did it hurt him? While mechanics were not Babo's forte, he understood that he himself (along with any other doll) had no chip. Lou was hardwired to need it. A constraint. A mark of someone else once having been in control.

Babo shook his head as the doll stirred a little, almost as if he had sensed his thoughts and wanted to come closer. The grey doll complied, shifting him into more of a hug that was still considered a carry. It was a little awkward, but he needed the comfort and Lou needed the heat of his body.

No bad thoughts tonight. Tonight was about sleep.

A few minutes later, he arrived at Ox's doorstep and knocked quietly. Not long later, the door came open to a bleary eyed Ox rubbing at his eyes. When he saw Lou, he blinked awake.

"Delivery." Babo stated, earning a small chuckle from the green doll.

"He finally lost the battle with sleep, aye?"

"Out like a light. I figured I'd bring him here, so he wasn't alone when he woke up." They'd spent plenty of nights alternating who had Lou in their house because they didn't want the doll to wake up alone or he was having a bad week. That had stopped only because Mandy more often than not ended up sleeping beside Lou at night.

"Good call." Ox raised his arms. "I can take him."

"You sure?" It wasn't like Ox couldn't carry him, but Babo had no problem taking him the rest of the way.

"Yeah. I've got a bit of experience carryin' my brother around when he's went in ova' his head." He assured, arms remaining up. Seeing no room for argument and not really wanting to argue, he slid Lou into the safe arms of his older brother. (It didn't matter the fact that Lou was at least eight years older than him manufacturing wise. Ox was his older brother. Lou could disagree all he wanted.) The blonde easily slipped into place, Ox shifting him with practiced ease so Lou's forehead was against the side of his brother's head, one arm draped over the back of Ox's neck for unneeded support. "See? Perfect."

"I do see." Babo laughed quietly. "I'll leave you to it then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Babo. Thank ya for bringin him."

"It's no problem. Wage called me while Moxy watched him."

Ox chuckled again. "I'll be sure to thank em, too. See ya tomorrow."

"See you."

The door shut as Babo walked away, back toward his house. He laughed a little to himself, not caring what he looked like from an outside view. The mental image of Lou asleep was ingrained in his mind. He whispered to himself as he moved up the porch steps to his house:

"What are we going to do with you, Baby Blue?"

___________________________________________

With minimal difficulty, Ox managed to get Lou into a pair of pajamas that he owned specifically for his brother and tucked into bed. Once Lou was secured under warm blankets, Ox left only the light of a night light on and climbed up to sit beside him, running a hand over where his brother's chip resided. Still a little cool from the outside air, but nothing a bit longer in the warmth couldn't fix.

Lou stirred, shifting a little. Sapphire eyes blinked open halfway, gazing around confusedly. Ox had to stiffle a little laugh at the innocence of it, continuing to smile down at the blonde.

"Ox?" His voice was sleep slurred, his eyes wavering in their focus with the dim light.

"Yeah, it's me." He ran a hand over his hair. "Go back to sleep. Everything is fine. I promise. You'll understand in the morning. Night is the time for dolls to be asleep." Maybe hebwas talking like a parent would a child, but who cared? Nobody.

"So you should be, too." Lou muttered, but his eyes drifted close. A little laugh refused to be held back, bubbling quietly out of Ox's mouth as he settled against the pillows. Lou instantly shifted over to him, head pressed into his chest as Ox continued to trail a hand through his hair.

"I guess you're right, Baby Blue. I'll go to sleep if you do."

If the other doll heard him, he didn't respond, only pressing himself further into Ox's chest. Ox could only smile and shake his head, feeling like many others had done the exact same head movement in the last hour. Lou could do things to turn the heart inside out without knowing it. He smiled, hand continuing to act as an idle comb while he looked down at his best friend and brother.

"What are we going to do with you, Baby Blue?"

#lou uglydolls #fanfiction #uglydolls #fanfic #friendship #sleepy bois inc

[conduiitz]

Okay. Put your money where your mouth is. Random headcanons about your OCs, GO

Be careful what you wish for B) how many do you want? And I will give you random fact instead bc head canons are already canon in my head :P

Since it's the infamous release day i will give you only my conduits/head world! :D <3

Luca:

He's 25% Canadian, 25% Italian and 50% Swedish, and yes he can speak Italian, and he understand Swedish but isn't the best at speaking it. Thanks to his dad being Swedish and mom half Italian/Canadian. :P

His dad was a fisherman! Mom is an Italian teacher so that's why he learned Italian as well :P

Yes I've killed his dad c:

All his senses are cranked up to 11, that gives him damn good hearing, sight, smell, anything really, thanks to his powers.

He's also super strong but i mean hello all conduits are.

He's Bi, but he do like girls a lot! (oh here's a real head canon, he's dating a girl named Candy Behr from The sims 4! I made him in sims and he really fell for her so that's a head canon i carry with me now lol!)

Also a head canon! Due to his powers are glass. And glass is made of part of sand. That will mean he can use sand if he really have to. He will need to be really drained from his glass and his body needs to be in real fight or flight mode. Then he can use sand. It will be really hard for him to control tho since its such a soft material compared to glass that's he's used too.

Isaac:

It's the DUP that made him so fucking big. He was originally a really skinny man before they fucked him up. He was working as a chef in eastern Canada. Then he somehow ended up in Curdun Cay and they turned him into a glass beast.

His powers are also glass!

He's around 2m tall.

He can speak french fluently!

Just like Luca's eyes, Isaac's also glow in the dark. Depending on how much powers he has stored and/or how drained he is.

He has really electric blue eyes tho.

This guy love to cook.

Another head canon! Conduits and their freaky bodies needs to eat a lot to power their powerhouse to body. Isaac being so big need to eat a lot and him cooking his own food makes him keep the cost down. Have you seen the amount of food really strong ppl eating? Yeah? Its' a lot.

Zion:

Zion is 16 years and has cool smoke powers.

This guy is also Swedish! (bc i am)

But he can speak it fluently! Since he moved to Seattle when he was 5 with his family, mom left the second they arrived in the States, and dad and Zion is still living together.

His biggest hero is Delsin Rowe, and when Zion got his power and learned Delsin also has smoke made him so starstruck.

Zion collect Delsin merch. Like... a lot.

Zion is small! Like 155-160cm.

Nature made him small to avoid the DUP easily (I'm nature)

Him still being in school with super powers isn't easy as he has to take weird turn and avoid the DUP checkpoint at all time, when his friends can just walk straight thru them. That isn't suspicious at all?

Zion thinks his dad don't know he has powers but this guy smells like a camp fire all the time the dad is starting to wonder.

"As long as it's not cigarette smoke I don't really mind, he's having fun that's whats important"

Random world head canons:

So yeah this is still set in Seattle, the timeline is a mix from First Light to the middle section of Second Son i'd say. Like DUP is still here and kicking doors.

I'd like to imagine Luca being used in the last part of First Light (where you chase after Shane), to hunt Fetch. Like he's training is almost done at that part and ready to be released into the wild to hunt conduits. This part is kinda like a "last test" for him. He tracks down Fetch in the snowstorm and bring her back to the facility, and then she's being put in the truck and you know the rest lmao.

#LMAO sorry for the bible #no im not sorry i love this #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK #Yeah i do love my bois so fucking much can you tell aaaaaaa #OC stuff #Luca #Isaac #Zion #infamous OC #Ask #<3

[monstershearts]

Doctor Jack “Invisible Man” Griffin

Nationality: Australian (with an American work visa, depending on the verse)

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Straight

Age: 27 (verse dependent)

Appearance: Piercing blue eyes, strong square jaw, handsome face, short blond hair, muscular build, 5'10", usually goes for a classy semi-casual look when he isn’t at work. Button-up shirts worn open at the collar, black or blue jeans, black cowboy boots.

FC: Dacre Montgomery

Personality: Eccentric, charming, quick to anger, volatile, violent, arrogant, ambitious. He fully believes that he is a scientific genius, and while he isn’t entirely wrong, he often forgets that he is not always the smartest person in the room. Money is also highly important to him.

Goals: To prove himself in the scientific community, to come up with an invisibility formula that the U.S. military will pay him a fortune for.

Strengths/Powers: Highly intelligent, silver tongue, decent physical strength, an experienced brawler, quick thinker and problem solver, determination, can become invisible after injecting himself with the serum he invented.

Weaknesses: His own ego, his short fuse and reckless attitude, the fact that he has to remove any clothing that isn’t skintight in order to be completely invisible, the fact that his serum makes his temper and mental state even more volatile than they already are, his workaholic nature, the fact that he is totally blind to his own mortality.

Likes: Rum, tequila, women, power, classic muscle cars, AC/DC, being away from his father, his fiancee Flora(verse/thread dependent)

Dislikes: His father, car thieves, mobsters, bigots, people who underestimate him, being told that he can’t do something/that he has limitations.

Languages: English, rudimentary German

Background: Jacobi Edmund Griffin was born in the fall of 1995 to a deadbeat thief and hardworking woman who left by the time he was five. Jack’s father was in and out of jobs, mostly relying on petty crimes to keep a roof over their heads, food on their table, and gas in their car. Jack focused intensely on his academic career, showing signs of genius level intellect at a very early age. He graduated high school at 15 with honors, and was offered a full ride scholarship to the University of Queensland, where he got his doctorate in biomedical science. While he was in his late teens, his father informed him that they would no longer have to worry about money troubles. They were rich! Everything was finally coming up roses for the Griffins, and his father proved it by buying him his dream car, a midnight blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro, as a belated graduation present. Jack was ecstatic, of course, but something in the back of his keen yet cynical mind told him that it was too good to be true. After about a month of mulling it over, he finally decided to ask his father where exactly he’d gotten the money from. That turned out to be one of the worst days of his life. His father deflected, at first, demanding to know why it was so important, but Jack kept pushing and pushing until his father confessed that he’d made the money by selling stolen cars for parts. It was his last job. He promised! But that wasn’t good enough for Jack, who had grown up loathing his father’s criminal activity and wanted desperately to believe that he’d finally gone straight. The two got into a massive fight, throwing punches, shoving each other around, destroying furniture, with Jack’s father calling him an ungrateful brat and throwing him up against a wall. It should have ended there, but Jack refused to go down, leading his father to come at him with a knife. There was a scuffle, a lot of blood, and even more chaos. By the end of it, both men were injured really badly, but Jack was the one who was able to call for an ambulance. Both were taken to the nearest hospital. Jack survived. His father did not. The teen was not charged, as all the evidence clearly pointed to him having to defend himself, but there was a grueling investigation that eventually led to his father’s house and both cars being seized by the state, and Jack being sent to live with his estranged mother since he was 17 and still technically a minor. As soon as he was physically able, he threw himself into his studies at the university harder than he ever had before, leading his mother to admire his intellect and work ethic and regret leaving him with his father. In Jack’s eyes, that was too little too late, but he was never outwardly hostile toward her about it. Over the next few years, he completed his PhD, becoming the youngest graduate in his class and immediately looking for work both near home and abroad. He landed several decent jobs in and around Brisbane, working in state of the art labs with many accredited scientists, but none of them would take him seriously, despite his outstanding achievements, due to his age. Fed up with the politics and discrimination, Jack turned his efforts to finding opportunities outside of Australia. It wasn’t long before he was hired on by an American company that was handling a few military contracts, applied for a work visa, and flown out to Boston to begin his new career. Things were finally taking off for him, it seemed. His coworkers saw his talent and intelligence and treated him as an equal, which made him even more eager to prove himself. At 26, he was put in charge of one of the most top secret projects the military had entrusted to Wells Biotechnologies: a serum that would allow operatives to become totally invisible for a short time. Needless to say, Jack was thrilled beyond belief, and got to work on it right away. At first, he did some research into various biological methods of camouflage, but quickly realized that the genetic modifications necessary to make that possible in humans would be far too invasive and risky. He then turned his attention to something called a refraction index, which he found could be changed with the right amount and method of chemical convincing. His research eventually led him to experiment with various anesthetics in combination with other chemicals, trying drug after drug, combo after combo, and getting little to no results. The military wasn’t happy with the lack of progress. After only a year, they pulled Jack’s funding, but he still refused to give up. When he wasn’t working on the projects that were still approved or dodging hushed underhanded comments, he was sequestered away in his lab, continuing his experiments off the books. Fueled by spite, very little sleep, and what few meals he remembered to consume, the young scientist worked tirelessly to find his perfect formula. Monocaine, he finally discovered one particularly grueling night, was the key. It was a particularly strong local anesthetic that worked remarkably well with the refraction-altering chemicals in such a way that made them compatible with human cells, even affecting fabric worn tight to the skin. Not wanting to risk asking for permission to start human testing and getting rejected, Jack tested the serum on himself. It worked beautifully…aside from the fact that he felt a bit less in control of himself than normal. It was almost like being high, or what he guessed being high might have felt like, having never tried recreational drugs before. It was bizarre, and he noted that he felt strangely numb all over. All of his findings were written down in his journal, including the fact that it wore off after about two hours. The after effects were much less pleasant. He’d been hungover maybe a couple of times in his life, and this was at least twice as bad. Nausea, a splitting headache that nearly made him want to cry, light and sound sensitivity, aching muscles, and insurmountable fatigue pretty much summed up his symptoms, and he wisely determined that sleeping in his office would be a much better idea than trying to make it back to his apartment. The next morning, he was much better off, though his head still hurt. Another couple weeks of nightly testing followed before he finally worked up the courage to tell his superiors. He did his best to make his case, but they refused to hear him out, no matter how much proof he showed them of his success. He had used company resources without permission and stayed on the clock for far longer than he was supposed to; he was lucky they didn’t suspended. Angry and heartbroken, Jack jumped to his last resort, taking out a syringe of the serum that he had gradually become addicted to and injecting himself with it. They were stunned to see him becoming invisible right before their eyes, and when they recovered enough from their shock to try and catch him, he ran, evading them almost effortlessly and taunting them as he went. It became a sort of game for him. He loved watching them squirm, loved seeing their alarm at being proven wrong by a man twenty or thirty years their junior. It was electrifying. The possibilities of what all he could do with serum also began to turn over in his brain. He wouldn’t have to wait for a payout from the military if he was able to just grab the money for himself without anyone being able to see him. He could also try going into private detective work, chasing after details that no visible person would be able to get near. The world was his oyster!

#⚗️ Invisible Man ⚗️ c; Jack Griffin #🦇 Chaos behind the quill 🦇 ooc talk #🦇 Calling all the monsters 🦇 promo #🦇 developing characters for fun and chaos 🦇 headcanon

[impostoradult]

the US may actually end up divorced over this (and the rulings yet to come)

for whatever it is worth to anyone, I agree with others who say that Roe v. Wade is probably just the beginning. And there will probably be more ultra conservative rulings about things like birth control, same-sex marriage, revival of anti-sodomy laws, etc. coming down the pipeline in the near future

i also think it is quite likely that -- like CA with the abortion haven laws -- we are going to start to see a kind of litigation-based civil war in the states. where blue states will protect these rights, potentially to the point of going directly against the federal government.

and the question is then, what's going to happen if huge, wealthy states like CA or NY face off with the federal government.

i truly don't think it is inconceivable that the US republic's days are numbered, if conservatives keep pushing things the way they are. I don't think anyone (in power) wants an ACTUAL second civil war. but this situation isn't sustainable, and I don't think blue states (particularly large powerful ones like CA and NY) are going to tolerate regressive ultra conservative power over-reaches like this

which brings us to the strangest part of all of this, which is the major corporate players in this game like Google, Microsoft, Apple, Netflix, Facebook, etc.

huge, wealthy corporations -- particularly tech companies -- may in fact end up playing a major role in this. already, many of them are creating support systems for their employees to access abortion care. but more to the point, most of those companies are headquartered in liberal states, and they depend heavily on the EDUCATED labor of people who are generally very socially liberal. despite the fact that these major corporations are exploitative and dangerous and conservative when it comes to labor and money, their 'brain-trust' staff is of a more liberal bent, and they expect at minimum access to things like abortion, birth control, protections for queer relationships, etc.

If CA faces off the federal government, Google and Apple and Facebook and Microsoft may, in fact, be the mitigating force that says, we're siding with CA/NY if it comes down to open conflict. which matters because conservative power players do NOT want their states to lose access to what these tech giants have and do. (And it's not like these states have the resources to set up their OWN Google, either financially, or in terms of educated people who actually have the expertise to do it)

like, I can envision a scenario in which Google, and Apple, and Microsoft basically either are the lynch-pin holding the states together by incentivizing the conservative federal government not to try to control what liberal states do. OR, they are the force that enables a peaceful cession of liberal states because they basically threatening to cut off conservative states from access if conservatives don't enable a peaceful, voluntary secession by liberal states from the US federal government.

and i don't even really have a conclusion about that at this moment. it is more just a forecast analysis of where I think this could all be heading. because I do think the court is going to continue to tearing down protections for things like birth control, same sex marriage, etc. and I do think powerful liberal states just aren't going to comply. and there is a serious possibility things will come to a head over this.

and I don't think the corporations are just going to 'sit it out' or remain neutral, not when they have so much skin in the game, and hold so much power. And not just in the realm of money, but like, providing access to the internet. which literally everyone in the US depends on now to do ANYTHING.

#US politics

[awrldalone]

23rd September 2022, 11.26am

Cold hands. I have just finished reading Radio Silence by Alice Oseman and this plane seat is hard, uncomfortable. I did not manage to text my father before departing because there was no internet connection once the airport wifi became out of reach, and I am already dreading the philippic I will have to sit through in the car.

I have been thinking about my boyfriend a lot. I always do, I always have, but lately it has been different. Difficult thoughts, confused cacophonies of phrases without beginning nor end. I think he loves me, and I think I love him, no, I know I love him, but this whole thing is taking a toll on both of us. We live so far apart that I have forgotten the exact shade of his eyes. I remember once, one of the first time he was in Venice, we went inside a church near my old high-school, and right at the door the sun hit him beautifully. I lack the right words to describe the angelic glow of his skin, the stark contour of his features, the dark silk of his hair — and the color of his eyes.

His sweater, the one I stole from him, smells like me now.

We thought it would get easier. This summer was hard, very hard, but we kept going because we had decided to would get easier. But coming to him is at least one hundred and twenty euros, going back home doubles the sum, and we both cannot skip too many lessons. It also takes an incredibly long time, between twelve and twenty hours depending on the day of the week and price.

I should have been more impulsive. I should have gone to France for university, instead of letting myself be persuaded by the rational.

Lately we have been talking less and less. When I was living in Venice, we called basically every day. I would put on my blue earbuds and look at his blurry image full-screen on my laptop. Now it takes him so long to reply to my texts. And last time he called, he said we need to talk about this, and by this I think he meant us, and he probably meant breaking up.

Sometimes I wish he would. Yesterday night, drinking cold coffee while washing the dishes, there’s always so many dishes to clean, I wondered how I would react if he just left me. My heart is breaking. Countless cracks, big and small and thin and thick and deep and on the surface, have been forming on my organs. I just wish he crushed them. For all I care, he could crush my heart and eat my intestines. Sell my kidneys, both of them, for all I care. The pain would be immense, but this agony would stop eventually.

I did not make many new friends at University. It makes me feel like I felt when I was eight. It’s infantilizing, I am trying all I can not to regress to a primordial state and push my knees to my chest while letting my eyes be the genesis of the Nile.

I do not like the people I met. Everyone seems dull. I must sound conceited, a hypocrite. Maybe I am, but they do not seem like people I could get along with. Half of them are there because they have the money, the other because they want the money - and I am there because I have always been told I would be good at it, and I am, but so far it does not feel fulfilling. I should have just studied English Literature, or Art History, or Philosophy, or Creative Writing. I would do all if I could. Law has started seeming so sterile, everything has been put in clear plastic boxes, and I like colors shapes lines stains hot pink bright red deep blue spring green lemon yellow. Everything makes me regret not having chosen France. I would have still studied Law, but Art History too with it.

And I would have been close to M. Besides, Ce. also lives there. She does not seem to be doing too well either, but at least she is busy. I have all this time on my hands. All these things to study and all this time to study them and all this time to sit on the cold floor with my legs crossed staring at my phone or the cement while listening to music. Sometimes I do not even hear the words anymore. Sometimes I feel hollow. I used to feel hollow a lot, but now I realized that I did in fact feel the opposite. Full and restrained. I am still full and restrained, but these restraints are eating me from the inside.

I miss his voice, the real one, not the one faintly filtered by microphones and speakers. I miss his skin on mine I miss miss miss. I long to be touched, but it goes deeper than that. I long to be fully understood, fully appreciated, loved, like he only can.

I wonder how long until this plane lands. I wonder if I will be able to just cry alone for a while tonight.

-c.

#diary

[mariacallous]

No one ever thought that the extraordinary investment in families on the wrong side of digital opportunities would be winding down. And doing so at a time when more than 20 million eligible families have finally found affordable options to connect to remote work, distance learning, health care, and for greater connections to family members, and civil society. As of December 2023, 9.9 million participants of the Affordable Connectivity Program (ACP) were using the $30.00 per month discount toward fixed, or home broadband; 12 million for wireless services; and just under one percent on something else, like fixed wireless or satellite, according to ACP enrollment data. But last month, in response to the lack of a congressional reallocation of money and with funds dwindling, Chairwomen Jessica Rosenworcel of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) penned a letter about the program’s fate and informed Congress that, on February 8, 2024, that the agency would start freezing new ACP enrollments. Meanwhile, states are steadily preparing to deploy federally subsidized, broadband deployments in areas that will be highly dependent on having subscribers for new and expanded assets. What the end of the ACP means for pending infrastructure, and the range of stakeholders from subscribers to community organizations has yet to be fully considered.

The Affordable Connectivity Program (ACP), one of many parts of the national effort to accelerate broadband as part of the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, was established to address one of the contributing factors to the U.S. digital divide — monthly affordability of services. The initial $14 billion that once sounded like a generous investment toward these concerns is now expected to run out, prompting the FCC’s efforts to wind down the ACP. After a year of predictions that high enrollments would lead to this moment, Congress has finally started to take notice. On January 10, a bipartisan, bicameral group of legislators introduced the Affordable Connectivity Program Extension Act to provide temporary relief of $7 billion from Treasury funds. This bill would allocate $1 billion more than the White House proposed to Congress in 2023 and would not change the current ACP rules, which could upset some Republican hardliners already concerned about program eligibility who want to toughen the rules.

Over 400 organizations, including national and local entities, internet service providers (ISPs), trade associations, and labor unions, have demonstrated their support for this new legislative proposal, and this all makes sense given the interests of these stakeholders, who are concerned about impacted populations and/or the ramifications on the broadband marketplace should the program abruptly end.

Saving the ACP should be based on what has become a known fact: being connected to the internet really matters in an increasingly digital society. Access to high-speed broadband has become a critical social determinant of well-being, especially when connectivity promotes equitable economic and social outcomes for users and their families. The ACP also is critical to the achievement and sustainability of the much-anticipated broadband infrastructure goals, which will benefit both red and blue states.

The Broadband Equity and Deployment Program (BEAD) is run out of the U.S. Department of Commerce and is currently reviewing and approving state plans to accelerate internet access, particularly in areas that have been under- or un-served by current facilities. The program has been allocated about $45 billion to further such deployments and contextualize digital equity programs to incent people to use them. Because of the focus on fiber, small and medium-sized providers are likely leveraging the funding for their buildouts. But without more certain subscribership, these companies could experience extreme financial consequences that lead to a range of outcomes — some even resulting in bankruptcies. Over the years, there have been some precedents around this correlation between supply and demand. Early efforts to build municipally-owned broadband networks struggled to find the appropriate level of solvency after huge sunk costs and debt loads, according to Christopher Yoo. In the end, some cities, contractors, and subs learned the hard way as they frontloaded huge amounts of cash and credit and believed the government would anchor their business models. Instead, many experienced the opposite and learned in the early days of municipal broadband about the importance of having healthy financial conditions on both the supply and demand sides for network revenues and sustainability.

The business realities may not be too far off in states with higher rates of poverty where the additional savings of the ACP have proven beneficial to constituents. For example, three states with the highest percentages of poverty in the United States are Mississippi, Louisiana, and West Virginia. Combined, almost one million people are currently enrolled in ACP in these states, according to recent FCC data, and that has translated into more than $25 million in household savings for them due to having an affordable and seamless high-speed broadband connection. These states with higher national poverty are expected to receive over one billion in BEAD funding each, which could contribute to lower costs for consumers, and the businesses, as well as organizations, that serve them. But without the ACP or a consumer-driven subsidy to support the broadband marketplace, existing and new broadband providers, cash-strapped customers, and surrounding businesses depending on the connectivity for economic gain all lose in one or many ways.

Then there are the concerns focused on the losses of the companies that are providing low-cost broadband solutions when the ACP ends. New Street Research completed a financial evaluation on one of the participating ISPs. Charter Communications has more than 4 million ACP, fixed broadband subscribers currently. The research findings showed that some of their customers — particularly those who knew that their ACP subsidy was not permanent — may be fine, while others will be severed from their connections due to the returning concern of affordability. And it is highly likely that this will impact other ISPs servicing the ACP, who may also have to decide on the future of the lower cost tier, which was not only bringing in new customers, but also allowing for operational expansion in areas such as customer service, accounting, or compliance.

Added to those who will lose if the ACP ends are national and community-based organizations who have advanced the digital equity movement and have made plans for digital literacy programming that are dependent on ACP enrollments. Various groups are leveraging home broadband to support their programs geared toward homework help, virtual health care, public benefits and housing recertification, community-building, workforce training and re-entry, and will be greatly impacted if the program is not temporarily or permanently restored. One of the older national, digital equity organizations, Connected Nation, has worked to connect more people to the internet in some of the more rural parts of the Midwest, and is an organization that started a few years after I entered this space in the late nineties. In their recent statement about the ACP, they summarized the sentiments of many national and community organizations facing the end of ACP: “This vital program, which significantly lowers monthly internet bills for millions of struggling Americans, is a key lifeline to online work and education opportunities that will suddenly vanish later this spring if Congress fails to act.” In the end, these groups understand the daily decisions that individuals and their families must make between having broadband and bread – despite the former driving a path toward social mobility.

Right now, the ball is in the court of Congress to act or not on the viability of internet subsidies for families who need them most. From the accounts of current research and public reporting on the impact of a shutdown, there is largely agreement that it is not a partisan program — subscribers from all geographies, and backgrounds are enrolled, including those in urban and rural America. But it will be, if this effective strategy to tackle the decades-long challenge of making the internet affordable in the backdrop of more available broadband assets fails to see sunlight beyond its pending expiration.

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

The Girl In The Red Sweater (Chapter 1)

It was an ordinary Tuesday. For the most part, anyways. I got some break time as a reward, so instead of working until 4 PM I got to work until 3. As I was handing a few nickels to a blond male customer as change, I felt something vibrate.

BZZZZ! BZZZZ!

I realized that was the lunch break alarm from my phone. It’s always on vibrate, since I don’t want to annoy the customers. After I finished handing a small box of fries to a little girl, I switched positions with a teenage coworker and walked out. 

If there’s any perks at working for Goldilocks’ Fries, it’s the fact that you get actual lunch breaks. For me, that’s from 11:30 PM to 12:30 PM.  Not only that, but you won’t get in trouble for coming back to work up to 5 minutes late.

Normally during lunch breaks, I hang out with my best friend Hailey. Hailey is 21 with blonde curls and a deep voice. Like me, she also writes. Unlike me, her main job is at the local newspaper: The Nightly Newspaper. The gist of it is that it only reports on events that occur at night. Hailey is very much not a night owl, though. She’s too bubbly to be one.

This lunch break, we shopped for cards at a dollar store. I forgot if it was Dollar Tree or Dollarama, but all the stuff was cheap.

“You know the funny thing about dollar stores, Valeria?” Hailey quipped.

“What?” I responded.

I filed through the many folded papers and envelopes, my fingers gracing the edges.

“Almost nothing at those places cost a dollar,” she answered. “You’re lucky if you can find something under two bucks.”

“Like I didn’t know that,” I sighed.

We continued shopping. It was about 12:00 PM, so we went to the checkout. After waiting 13 long minutes in line, we finally walked out into the autumn breeze.

“How’s the newspaper going?” I asked Hailey.

“Great!” she exclaimed. “And guess what?”

“What?” I wondered.

Hailey rubbed the pink-and-light-blue horizontal striped flag pin on her handbag.

“They’re accepting guest submissions! This could be a great opportunity for you!”

“How much money am I getting for it?” I responded. “I already have a lot on my schedule, and I’m not doing this if I won’t make any bucks.”

“Depends. If you only submit, you get anywhere from $69-$420. But if you get hired…you’ll be making thousands!”

I gasped.

“I could get hired? What are the requirements? When is it due?”

“You have to finish your article by November 10th,” Hailey answered. “No political opinion pieces, must be at least 20 sentences long, and no foreign language pieces. Oh, and also a high school diploma or certificate at the absolute minimum, but you already have that.”

We approached the parking lot of the fast food diner I worked at.

“I might make something after work,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Is that a yes???” Hailey responded. “We could be co-workers if it is.”

“You know what?” I said. “Hell yes it is!”

Hailey smiled, giddy with wonder and joy.

“Yay!” she exclaimed. “You’re the best! I can’t wait for all the memories we’ll make!”

“And if I don’t win,” I snarked, “at least I’ll have some more money to bring home. Maybe I can finally get a better data plan.”

Hailey pulled me into a hug, which I gladly accepted. Pulling back, I checked my watch. It was 12:25 PM.

“I really need to go back to work now,” I stated.

“True,” Hailey responded. “Good luck, V!”

“Thanks. See you soon, Hailey!”

But as Hailey left into the distance, I saw what might have been a brief look of worry on her face.

#writing #creative writing #the girl in the red sweater #tumblr #tumblr stuff #storytelling #story

[suckitsurveys]

When was the last time you felt exhausted? Every single day of my life.

….and why did/do you feel that way? Because I cannot, for the god damn life of me, fall asleep before 11pm, so I only get 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

How often do you feel exhausted? ^

What are three things you like about Instagram? I like the option to have stories there so I don’t have to commit to a whole post.

What have you found to be the cruelest thing about growing up? Money.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? 🎃 This past Halloween with my niece.

Which do you think is scarier: change or staying the same? This definitely depends on the situation/context.

Would you rather go on vacation to Florida or California? And why did you choose that state? California. I’d go to LA and the beaches.

Can you believe that in three months it will be October already? It’s January.

In life, do you feel like you are winning or failing? Why so? It’s not a race.

Have you ever taken a selfie inside of a doctor’s office? I may have, for like an IG story or something.

What is your favorite season, and what are three reasons why it is your favorite season? SUMMER. It’s warm and I can swim and it just feels nostalgic.

Are you good at painting your nails? 💅 Eh.

Do you have a lot of regrets from your past? Eh, not worth losing sleep over.

What is one biblical command that you often have trouble obeying? I don’t follow the bible.

What do you do when you’re feeling overwhelmed? Cry a little.

Do you prefer sun or rain? It honestly depends. I really prefer it overcast and warm outside, but I love a good rain storm and the sun is nice too.

Would you say you are more creative or logical? Both.

How often do you pray? 🙏 Never.

What is the closest thing to you right now that is blue? My hair.

What was the last hot beverage you drank? I’m drinking hot tea right now.

What is your favorite thing that you’ve done so far this summer? It’s winter, but my favorite thing I did this past summer was go to Lollapalooza!

#surveys