#ain't that some bullshit

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 12

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If there was one thing no one would ever guess about FF it is that he unapologetically LOVES Black Friday.

You may be thinking. Ugh Black Friday. Everyone is so rude and tired. The deals aren’t even that good. It can turn into a blood sport at the drop of a hat over a toaster that is 15% off.

You are correct.

That is why FF loves it.

It is the one shopping day of the year where every single one of his instincts are correct, valid, and useful. He has pulled his gran out of the way of elbow drops, he has avoided the gaze of a woman in PINK sweat pants who was looking for someone to steal a blender from, and he knows without a doubt that the cashier hates him already so there’s no need to worry about whether or not they hate him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air!

Everyone is just as antagonistic and awful as he thinks they are!

Shopping is actually the blood sport he always feels like it is!

So there he is standing in a line at the nearest store (Target) waiting to be let in with the masses who all look ready to stab one another for better positioning for a TV. The jokes on them though because his only goal is the grocery section and he deals with the threat of repeated stabbings for BREAKFAST.

He spots an IHOP in the distance and hopes his gran doesn’t feel too lonely. They’ve gotten buttermilk stacks together at the IHOP by the mall for years after the two of them finished Christmas Shopping.

Someone elbows him in the side to get his spot in line but FF does not really care. Again, he doubts any of these people are going to be racing him to the all purpose flour.

It’s 4 AM and the barricades come down.

There’s a rush of people pushing and shoving but FF just steps to the side and watches as they all rush in. He’d mostly stayed in the line because the throng of people made it easier to stay warm. He had left his jacket back at the house because the five hour energy might be making his skin feel super sensitive but he is pretty sure that if he wore his nylon jacket he would die.

The five hour energy also may be upping his anxiety just a little bit.

He walks into the store at a leisurely pace and while the crowd fights over the carts he grabs one of the baskets. He can feel the eyes of other shoppers all wondering if he has some insider knowledge on a good deal that would only require the basket or if it’s a matter of who gets to the back to receive the ‘redeem’ coupon.

He sees a few shoppers get lured in by his siren call and much like a siren following anything that FF is about to do will undoubtedly lead to their downfall.

But FF doesn’t care about that.

He cares about HIS downfall.

So he makes his way to the grocery section and ignores the six different shopping assistants who try and guide him to where he ‘should’ be shopping and each of them only give him increasingly confused looks when he states his intention to go to the grocery section every single time.

Is it easier to ignore their stares when the five hour energy have set his baseline heart rate to something that might be too fast to register as a heartbeat? Maybe.

It is easier to ignore the confusion on their faces when he can see both the past (he asked for TWO favors from Andrew in one day how is he still alive???) and the future (still malleable at the moment apparently. There’s even a future where Andrew actually just is trying to make overtures of friendship but he dismisses that one as INCREDIBLY unlikely and looks at the far more viable one where Andrew at least makes his death quick while he enjoys his great gran’s brownies.)

It’s good to set reasonable goals for yourself.

So he arrives at the grocery section which is deserted aside from one employee who may or may not be asleep against a shelf. FF looks and….not a shelf he needs so he is not about to wake that poor man up.

So he gets everything he needs for his great gran’s brownies (he’s trying to buy his life here so he is not about to assume he can use ANYTHING in the house), the ingredients for a good breakfast (because he really needs to eat something that is not a five hour energy or sugar for the sake of his poor stomach and he may as well get enough for everyone), and (since Captain Neil mentioned it & he is trying to buy his life here) the ingredients to bake another pie.

While he grabs cinnamon he checks to see if they have grandma’s love in stock but, alas, it continues to be unavailable commercially.

He stares at the whipped cream for so long that the employee asleep in the other aisle woke up and asked if he needed help and, startled, he dropped it in his basket. “No I’m good.” He says before power walking out of the grocery department and deciding to brave the Home Goods section to buy some incense so that he can hopefully channel the spirit of his great gran to assist him in this, the darkest of his baking hours.

He arrives at the check out stations and finds the shortest line .

He can feel eyes on him, inspecting his purchases, judging them, judging him, who the fuck goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush?

FF.

FF goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush.

The cashier looks for hidden cameras but FF has no such thing accompanying him today or ever (as far as he knows.)

After a moment the cashier must look at the ever growing line and decide that whatever scheme they think FF is up to isn’t worth trying to figure out. They offer a membership card, FF valiantly declines to get one despite the two attempts.

He is out the door with four bags of groceries that all have a target on them that feels a little too correct. It’s 6 AM now (he really did lose a lot of time at the whipped cream section) and he’s walking back to the house in Columbia.

He actually feels a little bit better since he at least got to experience his actual favorite blood sport (sorry Exy) and he even got another 2 five hour energies while he was in the check out line so he could replace some of the ones that he had gone through.

“Smith?”

He would like to thank the combined weight of the groceries for keeping his feet on the ground when he heard Captain Neil’s voice.

He turns and Captain Neil is looking at him wide-eyed in his running gear that Smith has seen him in. “You were shopping??” He asks.

FF nods and lifts up the four bags as evidence. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” He asks.

FF almost scoffs but he doesn’t, “You can’t be distracted when you’re in a Target on Black Friday. That’s how you take an elbow to the eye.” He responds because it’s like Captain Neil has never experienced the WWE-like environment of Black Friday shopping.

Captain Neil blinks at him.

“Text Andrew or me next time you’re going to go off into the night or just let us know beforehand. Andrew would have driven you.” Captain Neil says and grabs two of the bags out of FF’s hand. “C’mon let’s get back and maybe you can get some sleep.” Captain Neil sighs.

“I’m fine.” FF adjusts the bags so he has one in each hand.

Captain Neil does not say anything so FF assumes that he has accepted that.

***

FF had not been asleep on the couch when Neil had walked through the living room. Neil, in a move that had Andrew fully waking up, went back to the room to check his phone to see if FF had texted him an update on going out. All that greets Neil is the impersonal series of texts that mostly confirmed when practice times had been changed, when the bus was leaving, and spelling on various Spanish words.

FF isn’t a big text person.

He’s more of an in-person kind of friend.

Neil likes that about him most of the time.

“What.” Andrew asks face still half buried in Neil’s pillow.

“Smith isn’t on the couch.”

That has Andrew getting up despite the early hour and their activities the night before. Neil watches as Andrew grabs his own phone to scroll through but seems to come up with the same lack of communication that Neil does.

Andrew does do the extra step and hit the call button.

But all he gets is the confirmation that the VM has not been configured that has greeted them every time FF misses their calls. (Voicemails make FF anxious so when he got his new phone he just…never configured it.)

Neil knew that FF was not pleased with them and somehow the calm request to either stop fooling around or let him out had hit him and Andrew harder than any of the screaming demands that the two of them were usually met with from Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, or any of the other Foxes.

“You said he wasn’t mad.” Neil says.

“He nodded.” Andrew confirms.

“Maybe he went on a walk?” Neil tries as they come out to the living room. They look at the front door and find that it’s locked but it looks like Aaron’s keys are gone. “He probably is going to come back if he took Aaron’s keys since Aaron wouldn’t be the one he’d be irritated with.” Neil rationalizes.

“He didn’t bring his jacket.” Andrew says looking at the black jacket still on the hook by the door.

“We can go and see if we spot him.” Neil offers.

Andrew nods and Neil heads out first since Andrew is still in his sleeping clothes and will need some time.

Neil had not expected to find FF walking back to the house with groceries for breakfast and the pie that Neil had mentioned hoping they could bake at the house.

“Is this for the pie?” He asks looking down at what was in the bags he was carrying as the walked back to the house. Neil managed to shoot off a quick text letting Andrew know that it was fine, FF just went grocery shopping.

FF just nods, “Got everything but Grandma’s love.” He says.

FF is a nice guy to brave the stores on a morning like this but FF also looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Neil asks.

“I’m fine.” FF repeats.

Neil really is starting to understand his friends’ hatred for the phrase.

They get back to the house and Andrew is sat out in the living room. FF stops and blinks at the sight of him sitting there.

It is a well-known fact that Andrew does not willingly wake up early most days unless he has to. Neil is glad that Andrew has a friend that he’s coming to care about the way Andrew cares about FF.

Andrew gets up and yanks the bags out of FF’s hands. “Go to sleep. Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.” He says with a scowl and walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries FF had bought.

FF just looks at where Andrew had gone uncomprehendingly for a few moments and Neil figures he’s just tired. Neil feels guilty that him and Andrew messing around in the car like that had rendered FF unable to sleep and the two of them had agreed last night that from now on when FF is in the car they can talk all they want but hands stay on the wheel and eyes stay on the road.

FF is plopped down on the couch when Andrew and Neil come out of the kitchen after putting away the groceries (“These are the ingredients for brownies.” Andrew had noted as he put away melting chocolate.) and he’s looking through his flashcards again and not sleeping. He hears Andrew make a disgusted noise next to him and the next thing he knows Andrew is smacking the cards out of FF’s hands.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Andrew enunciates.

FF stares at him, then down at the flashcards. “I don’t think I can.” He says which is better than him lying and saying he wasn’t tired even if the truth had Andrew’s mouth stretch into a thin line that meant he was beating himself up for something.

“Try.” Andrew orders. “Just lay down and close your eyes. Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” He says.

FF blinks but nods turning on the couch and laying down. The blanket is still over on the lazy boy that Neil had set it on the night before and Andrew rolls his eyes before grabbing it and tossing it over FF.

“Thanks.” FF says before closing his eyes.

Neil looks to Andrew who nods and Neil accepts that there’s nothing else to be done for now and heads out on his run.

***

FF can admit that he’s a bit adrift in what Andrew and Captain Neil are doing right now.

He really should go grab another five hour energy because falling asleep IN FRONT of an irritated Andrew Minyard feels like a death sentence but “Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” And having a blanket thrown over him did not feel like a threat even if he can feel Andrew’s eyes watching him.

FF is tired and when he’s tired he tends to make stupid decisions. So FF lets himself drift off to sleep while the man who was likely going to move him to a secondary location sat and watched.

His dreams are not peaceful.

He’s running, can’t escape, an echo of words he should have considered before letting himself drift off and he knows he’s going to DIE.

He wakes up with a start to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hashed browns with Nicky standing over him. “Hey there sleeping beauty! I made you a plate!” He says and hands FF a plate of breakfast that smiles up at him with a bacon mouth, egg eyes, and hashed brown hair.

FF takes the plate and digs in immediately. He needs his strength.

“Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.”

Andrew Minyard was going to hunt him for SPORT.

NEXT

Do your civic duty and: CAST YOUR VOTE TODAY ABOUT MEMES (closed)

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As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly? (Cheesecookie whatever you did let me actually select you this time)

#Fluent Freshman AU #Did Andrew watch FF sleep for an hour to make sure he actually got some sleep? #Yes #Did Andrew find the 2 five hour energies and throw them out while putting the money FF spent on them in his wallet? #Also Yes #Nicky wakes up and remembers that he promised FF that he could sleep in his room #So he is trying to make it up to FF with smiley face breakfast #FF's love of Black Friday mirrors my own #Do I like the deals? Eh. Do I like the barely concealed threat of violence? YEAH BABY #We go visit my Fam in Ohio for Thanksgiving and then me my mom and my aunt make a battle plan #Mom's on grabbing duty since she's tall while my Aunt and I are on protection detail #I got a black eye one year but the Xbox 360 was worth it for Tales of Vesperia #then we get IHOP #I miss when it started at like 5 AM #Now it just starts on Thanksgiving which is bullshit #I ain't moving from my turkey coma #AFTG Fic #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Shitpost #Andreil #FF - Pt. 12

[celluloidbroomcloset]

Nooooooo, not doing celebrity discourse. I have lived in that world and it's far too complicated by bad faith and people putting fucking bizarre spins on statements and scrutinizing especially women, LGBTQ+, and PoC for any potentially bad opinions or things that might be construed as bad opinions or things that are bad opinions, period in order to pass a clear moral judgment on a person YOU DO NOT KNOW, in sum total. And I ain't doing it. Miss me with that.

#taika in particular has said some things i do not agree with and will not agree with #and i ain't defending anything or any bad opinions he has #but he has also had a lot of frankly racist bullshit thrown at him #including some goddamn bizarre takes on his work #and it's hard not to note when an indigenous artist is being treated real differently from white artists #also i just read the transcript of the interview and people #are badly misconstruing what he said in an off the cuff conversation

[respectthepetty]

Does it make you sad knowing that Sand had no friends as a child, so when he noticed Ray needed a friend, he really tried to be that for him just for Ray to treat him like an object?

Thank God for good friends.

#sink these ships #only friends #only friends the series #I need people to get better friends #even if your friends are crazy‚ do they treat you right? #be Nick & Sand #they have their flaws but they apologize to each other #unlike the core group #I hate them #they ain't shit #even Top has Boeing #instead of sink these ships #how about we sink that main friendSHIP #burn it down! #and some of y'all saying 'some of y'all never had a toxic friend group?' #no! and I'm sorry you did #you deserved better #you deserve a nick and sand friendship #not a Cheum Mew Ray Boston bullshit relationship #and that's why they don't know how to be nice to other people #because they think if it's okay to treat friends like that it's okay to treat lovers like it too!

[doubledyke]

dissociatED ch. 3

edd makes a confession

The contents of an overflowing black grocery bag poured into a pile on Ed’s paint speckled project table. Eddy gave the bag a final shake for good measure before tossing it and a lengthy receipt to the floor. The biggest perk of hanging out at Ed’s after school was that they never had to worry about cleaning up before they left- though that never stopped Edd from doing a cursory trash collection at the end of the night.

“Bon appétit, boys.” The shortest teen pronounced flatly after having first dibs at the avalanching mountain of snacks. He then flopped onto what was left of Ed’s mattress and dug a Game Boy Advance from one of his generous pockets. With a handful of sour gummies crammed into his gob, he listened for the usual jingle as the device powered on.

The lump was next in line to make his selections and went straight to work, stacking bag after crinkling bag of 2 for $1 treats in the crook of his arm. Once satisfied with his haul, he spun around daintily on his big toe, but was halted mid-pirouette by the waifish boy waiting patiently behind him. Edd toppled to the floor with a surprised yelp and flinched as packages slipped from Ed's clutches onto his face.

"Sorry, Double Dee." In one fell swoop, he was returned to his standing position by the herculean strength of Ed's free arm.

“That's quite alright, Ed- ED! What in heaven's name are those?!” he exclaimed, spotting the contraband just as it was unsubtly tucked behind Ed’s back. Lips pursed and arms crossed, he flashed The Look. 

“Really, Ed. Butterscotch disks?” His skinny neck snapped toward the bed to address the one who'd surely been the mastermind. With a voice as artificially sweet as the various treats that littered the floor, he resumed his questioning. “Eddy? Why, pray tell, would you make the purchase of goods containing butterscotch knowing Ed’s allergy to the confectionery?”

After he paused his game, Eddy’s unamused glare traveled slowly from his accuser to his accomplice, then back.

“It was I, Double Dee.” Ed’s noodle head hung shamefully, a jutting bottom lip garnering little sympathy from the room. “The siren of scorched butter beckons me with her syrupy serenade!” A fake sob punctuated his surprising use of syllables. 

“Ed, I only ask that if you’re planning on ingesting potentially injurious indulgences to at least provide some notice! You’re lucky mister, that I, for one, have learned from your history of impulsivity, and keep a topical antihistamine in my bag for times like these. However, there may come a day when I won’t be around to-”

The diatribe was thankfully cut off by the timely roar of a muffler-less Buick Estate approaching the house. Eddy glanced up at Edd who in turn looked at the remaining member of their trio. Ed stared a thousand yards ahead while he tore open a pouch of Pop Rocks and emptied it into his mouth. The teens waited in silence as the wagon steadied to a rumble in the driveway before sputtering out when the engine was cut. A car door was heard creaking open and slamming shut, followed by footsteps that squeaked across the floorboards overhead.

“Welp, dad’s home. May I be excused, Double Dee?” Carbonated sugar crystals exploded off his tongue as he spoke. Edd took a step back and raised a finger, but before he could offer his pardon, the perpetually sticky boy was clambering up the stairs to attend his nightly roundtable reprimand. Ed remained outwardly unaffected for being the person his family used as an emotional punching bag. It was nothing new, and as disturbing as it was to his friends, they’d learned not to harp on it. Still, Edd's chest tightened with guilt for eating into a rare moment of peace with a well-meaning but unnecessary scolding. He managed to stave off a further spiral by vowing to apologize later. 

Before retreating to his usual spot on the old blue chair, he sorted through the mess of snacks on the table. To his pleasant surprise, Eddy had taken the time to locate his special request: unsalted dry roasted edamame. A giddy peek at the bed found two eyes peering back at him over the handheld console until they darted back to the tiny pixelated world on the screen.  

“Thank you, Eddy.” He flashed a weak smile and sat cautiously on the decrepit recliner, wondering if this would be the night it finally collapsed. With his weight fully settled, he breathed a weary sigh of relief then sluggishly rummaged around his satchel for a source of cerebral stimulation. On quite the rebellious streak as of late, his eyes shifted scandalously as he thumbed past his homework folder and opted for a decidedly more recreational selection. He settled as comfortably as he could to begin yet another read through of Finnegans Wake.

By page five he realized he’d just been staring at the blocks of text without processing their deeply ensconced meaning. The exposed plywood digging into the small of his back was only partly to blame for his distraction. Being alone with Eddy these days was rare and resulted in an unavoidable onslaught of complex thoughts and emotions.

Three years feels like an eternity when you’re a kid. But the collective trauma caused by the events of the summer before 8th grade remained evergreen in Edd’s restive brain. Much like everyone else in the neighborhood, he’d been shell-shocked by the revelation of Eddy’s abuse at the hands of the man he misguidedly idolized. The image of his friend, unguarded and gored took months to shake. It was made all the more difficult by his own incessant replaying of the tender moment the two shared immediately after the carnage.

He wondered what Eddy felt when reflecting on the overt display of affection. Did he look back on that moment with the same warmth? Did he look back on it at all?

An eerie quiet loomed over Rethink Avenue after the incident. Since his painfully public humiliation, Eddy left his days of bunco artistry behind and seemed to be exploring his newfound individuality- or so Edd hoped.

Despite their initial outpouring of empathy, the kids struggled to maintain a tolerance for Eddy once it was clear that his riley temperament wasn’t as easily dropped. Ed and Edd didn’t mind of course; they loved Eddy for the firebrand that he always was. The trio was closer than ever, and weren’t particularly bothered by their largely unchanged status as outcasts. Some things had changed, however. It wasn’t long before Edd noticed a disparity in how he viewed his two closest friends. He and Ed were still akin to brothers, offering comfort and protection from their less than ideal home lives.

But "brother" no longer seemed an appropriate label for Eddy; thinking back, he wasn’t positive it had ever been. Eddy often teased that they were “partners in crime”, prompting Edd to roll his eyes in tepid disapproval. Now, with the so-called crime behind them, did that mean they were just... partners?

At first, this shift in perception was easy enough to shrug off as another fleeting infatuation- after all, he still had a bit of a thing for Nazz. But the passage of time did nothing to sway this new sentiment. By now he’d long given up trying to deny the dangerous appeal of Eddy’s casual insubordination, the bizarre charm in his audacity, his inexplicably endearing immaturity. Not to mention how fetched Edd was by his patchy goatee and trendy hoop earring.

Suddenly everything Eddy said or did was under scrutiny for some implicit meaning. Every indiscreet invasion of personal space and cheeky comment was taken as a hint that he might just feel the same about Edd.

Then again, Eddy wasn’t shy by any means, so if he did have similar feelings, surely he would have mentioned it by now… right? Given the boy’s turbulent upbringing, it was reasonable to assume that he was simply too afraid or embarrassed to broach the subject. Plus, the mildest affectionate gesture made his skin crawl- a fact that Edd was painfully aware of.

The concept was completely foreign to him, as years of touch starvation were starting to take its toll. So much so, that he’d recently found himself looking forward to the occasional odiferous bear hug from Ed. Nonetheless, he respected Eddy’s boundaries, ever-changing as they were.

The mixed signals were a tad frustrating, though. One moment he’s utterly unapproachable, the next he’s practically on top of you. Edd could no longer control the way his lip quivered during those moments. The way he'd turn beet red and still be utterly incapable of looking away.

“Take a picture why dontcha? Weirdo.” The croaky voice snapped Edd’s mind back to the crumbling purple walls of the basement where he’d been gawking at Eddy for the entirety of his impromptu reflection. He emitted a few indignant scoffs and squeaks while scanning the immediate area for something else to look at.

“Oh no, I-I wasn’t…W-Well I was just…”

“Relax, Sockhead, I’m just joshin’ ya .” His brow curled in genuine concern at the mortified expression on Edd’s pallid face.

“Oh, of course, a joke. Hehe. Funny.” His eyes grew large just as he shot abruptly from his seat and snatched up the discarded grocery bag from the cement floor. Spread out flat, it was just wide enough to provide a barrier between the rancid mattress and his pristine pants. With a painfully tight grip on his bony knees, he twisted rigidly to face the portly object of his affection. The unexpected proximity had Eddy slowly shrinking into the corner.

“I need to get something off my chest, Eddy, to clear the air, so to speak.”

Eddy perked up slightly. “Seriously, it was just a joke. I don’t think you’re that weird.”

“Never mind that.” Though impertinent, the clarification was some relief to Edd. He continued, “After considerable time spent deliberating, I’ve come to accept that though my selfish unburdening may well bring about unintended consequences, I simply can’t go on ruminating and rehashing hypotheticals. For my own sanity, it’s best I know exactly where I stand- where we stand. You have my word that no matter your reaction to what I have to say, I won’t be upset. I only ask that you take into consideration my sensibilities when forming your sincere response.”

“For chrissake Edd, just spit it out already! You’re makin’ me nervous.” The Game Boy was shut off and tossed aside so he could wipe his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans.

“Eddy, I-”

On cue, pounding footsteps barreled down the groaning stairs. Their newly liberated friend burst into the room sporting his trademark slaphappy grin. Eddy’s indignant glare lingered on a jolted Edd, whose attention was drawn elsewhere.

“I am back, you guys! Pass the ointment, Double Dee!” Resilient as always, Ed stomped over to the buffet of junk in search of something salty to accompany his disks of discomfort.

Eddy stood up on the bed briefly before hopping to the floor and yanking the lofty teen to eye level by a handful of his jacket collar.

“Welcome back, big guy. Hey, listen, I just remembered there’s this gargantuan bug in my bathroom and I need Double Dee here to come see if it's poisonous.”

“Oh, why Eddy, if you simply provided a description of this aberrant arthropod, I’m certain I could-” His innocent offer was snuffed by a clammy hand over his mouth. He fought the immature urge to bite one of the fingers. Like it was his fault that Eddy’s on-the-fly excuse was so easily refuted.

“You're in charge of holdin' down the fort till we get back, got it?”

“Roger Wilco, Eddy!” A ground shaking stomp and stiff salute served to drive his unclear point home.

“At ease, Lump.” He landed a few affectionate wallops on Ed’s bicep, then shot a look at the quasi-entomologist. “Let’s get this over with.”

The old table buckled when Eddy leapt onto the corner to gain access to the window and shimmied through the ever tightening port to the backyard. 

“Double Dee?”

Edd stopped on Eddy’s trail to answer, “Yes, Ed?”

“If Eddy’s bug needs a place to stay, there is plenty of room in my humble commode.”

“How… considerate of you, Ed. I’ll inform, um, it of your very generous offer.” He turned to leave but was quickly sidetracked again.

“Oh, Ed!” He looked up with doe eyes and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s sinewy forearm. “I’d like to apologize for chastising you earlier. It’s not my place to dictate the decisions you make regarding your health. Though, it’s probably best to provide you with your own tube of diphenhydramine cream. Just in case.” An affiliative smile spanned his face for the few seconds he waited for a response.

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cured meat. And I am quite partial to bologna.”

“Yes, well. I’d best be on my way if I hope to avoid an ear-splitting admonishment of my own.”

The ginger haired giant gaped, eyebrow cocked, as the boy’s spindly arms struggled to lift the weight of his equally scrawny lower half out of the basement. After spending several seconds watching his friend’s kicking legs and pained grunts, he lurched to the window and nudged Edd’s rear with just enough force to send him stumbling into the patchy footpath outside. Once somewhat stabilized on his disproportionately small feet, he hollered his appreciation.

“Thank you, Ed! Back in a jiff!”

Standing coolly at the end of the front yard, Eddy wasted no time pulling out a metal case and matching Zippo from another of his many pockets. His thumb stroked the crudely buffed out initials of the case’s previous owner as he popped it open. He pinched a slightly stale menthol cigarette between his lips and used his left hand to block the breeze, his right to light. That first fiending drag of nicotine always left him woozy. Using a light post to steady himself, he watched through heavy lidded eyes as Edd flounced into view.

The out of shape boy’s dramatic heaving stopped as soon as he whiffed the acrid aroma of tobacco.

“Eddy, I’d prefer you didn’t do that upwind of me.” He swallowed hard and watched the cherry glow red as Eddy inhaled another puff, a characteristically devious grin forming around the carcinogenic tube.

“You’re the one standin’ so damn close! C’mon, I ain't out here for my health.” 

With that, the pair started down the sidewalk to Eddy’s home. Their shared lack of spatial awareness resulted in the frequent bumping of shoulders, elbows and hands as they shuffled along in silence. A gust of autumn wind on top of the awkward physical contact prompted Eddy to lip his cigarette and shove his hands in his jacket pockets.

The whimsy of marcescent leaves rustling in the nipping breeze had Edd recalling the many idyllic scenarios wherein he finally makes his long awaited confession. Planning was the one constant throughout all of his fantasies; scheduling a time that was convenient for them both, meeting at an undisclosed- and tastefully atmospheric -location, and reading from a deliberately worded billet-doux.

Instead, the rosy imagery was choked out by another miasma from Eddy’s mouth. He grimaced, watching the discarded cigarette land in a growing pile below the back window. His attention was then quickly drawn back to his prospective flame who, in a heartening display of etiquette, had stepped back and was motioning him through the bedroom’s exterior door as it whirred open with an inviting gush of warm air. It wasn’t the moss covered stone pergola hidden away in the vast secret garden of his daydreams. But the clean, well-decorated interior of the bedroom was an improvement.

Edd lingered by the door, looking on while his wheezing friend slunk off to the bathroom. 

“Go on then,” The husky boy was heard a few minutes later, garbling through the foam of toothpaste in his mouth. “I’m listening.”

Edd bit his lip and took a few reluctant steps toward the middle of the room. The sound of medium bristles scrubbing properly aligned teeth echoed off the tile floor of the bathroom. He cleared his throat loudly and adjusted his hat. Feeling a bit dispirited by Eddy’s seeming indifference, he struggled to maintain focus on the task at hand.

You’ve come this far, Eddward. Turning back is no longer an option. Besides, you’ll feel better once you’ve disencumbered yourself. Go forward!

“Hello? Earth to Double Dee?” The voice was now outside the bathroom. Eddy flicked the light off on his way out, slung a retro patterned hand towel used to dab his mouth over his shoulder and zipped to his vanity. There he refreshed his CK One.

The corners of Edd’s mouth tightened. Choosing the right words from the hundreds that bounced around his brain at any given second was more challenging than expected. The wrong one could lead to a critical misunderstanding, which might cause irreparable damage to their already at-risk relationship.

Eddy managed to pry his eyes from his reflection long enough to turn around and face Edd who looked to be fighting a losing internal battle. Nothing new there.

“Forgive me. You’ll understand if I’m a bit nervous.” He faked a chuckle. A second clearing of his throat expelled the first words that came to mind.

“I’m quite fond of you, Eddy.” Dilated pupils darted to the furthest corners of his bugged out eyes. The stocky body in his periphery didn’t move.

A bit lackluster, but a good start. Elaborate.  

“To put it more plainly, my indelible admiration for you has taken on a romantic hue… Hours of introspection, countless thought experiments and an economy-size box of facial tissue have all led me to this conclusion.”

His stiff neck ratcheted slightly to the right, followed by the rest of his body as he dared to close much of the space between them.

“I’ve grappled with the possibility that said feelings may be unrequited. And in the event that you do share my sentiment, less than two percent of adolescent affairs last beyond high school...”

Emboldened by adrenaline, he froze where he stood, now only a couple feet away and placed a heavy hand on Eddy’s broadened shoulder.

“That said, I’m truly hoping that for once, the odds are in my favor.”

Edd's gimlet eye and uncharacteristically forceful grip had Eddy weighing his options for an escape; if he was quick, he could slip out from Edd’s grasp and leg it back to Ed’s. No way he'd want to keep talking about this in front of Ed. Or, he could fake the sudden onset of some obscure disease- a surprisingly reliable option.

His eyes narrowed as he debated, fixed on the wisps of thin, dark hair resting against Edd’s cricked neck.

“Eddy?” The voice was so low it prompted Eddy to look around for the source.

“Why’s everyone think I’m gay, Double Dee?” There was a genuine curiosity to his question, though he dreaded every possible answer.

Edd withdrew his hand and used it to anxiously massage his bony chest. His lack of facial expression was typically an indication that he was on the verge of collapse. Eddy tried to be subtle in taking a small step back.

Now, look what you’ve done. Why would you touch him? And with unwashed hands, no less!

Feigning maturity was beyond tiresome. Edd wanted to throw himself on the ground, kicking and screaming until he got his way. He’d half a mind to inform Eddy exactly why everyone was so quick to make judgements regarding his sexuality. Figuring he’d already put enough strain on their friendship for one night, he instead played dumb. 

“Um… Far be it from me to dissect the complexities of your identity, Eddy. It seems, based on your reaction, that even my perception was skewed after years of friendship.” The adenoidal quality of his voice returned once his throat was cleared a third time. His hand instinctively pressed against his burning cheek, then tugged at the zipper of his quarter zip sweater.

Eddy’s short rearward steps continued until he collided noisily into his rickety dressing table. After confirming nothing had broken, he contested.

“So a guy bathes regularly and knows how to put together an outfit. That makes him a f-” Noting Edd’s disapproving squint, he quickly found another word. “...Fruit?” 

If the context weren’t so gut-wrenching, Edd would have laughed out loud at the boy’s callow reasoning. 

Oh, Eddy. My obstinately oblivious abettor. 

Behind the beads of perspiration on Eddy’s scrunched forehead a war raged on; a conflict between conscious and unconscious mind. To think, someone whose last name wasn’t Kanker was interested in him. And it was Double Dee of all people- the finicky genius, wise to the many skeletons in Eddy’s overloaded closet. The guy who even seemed to have the dames figured out wanted him. It was doing wonders for his recently shoddy self-worth. And he could’ve easily been carried away on that cloud had it not been for the anchor of doubt, despair, and disgust keeping him firmly on the ground. It was true, he knew Eddy like one of those tomes he read for fun. So if Edd thought he was bent… That meant he’d better keep growing out the goatee.

“Eddy, my personal interests aside, I feel I must reiterate: There is nothing nefarious about same sex attraction. It is entirely amoral, despite hegemonic messaging to the contrary.” He paused, remembering that morality wasn’t exactly topping Eddy’s list of priorities. He tried a different angle.

“Gay and bisexual men aren’t inherently less masculine than their heterosexual counterparts. Sexual orientation has no bearing on how someone may choose to express their gender identity.”

The blank look on Eddy’s face was proof enough that he remained unmoved by the attempted appeal to logic. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Eddy, are you going to listen to me or your father, who can only be distinguished from archaic man by his ability to cajole elderly widows into the peeling leather interior of dubiously discounted daily drivers?”

The fist-clenching frustration that prompted his outburst dissipated quickly, replaced by pity when he met eyes with the confused young man before him.

Still at a loss, Eddy knew his friend was right. But as far as he was concerned, to admit that was tantamount to coming out.

“I’m sorry, Dee. It’s nothin’ personal, really. I just don’t swing that way."

#back on my bullshit with all this alliteration but its fun what can i say #some day i'll write a fic that doesn't end with a line of angsty dialogue but today ain't that day #as usual i'll probably reread and make changes but i gotta cut her loose for now #oh and in case it wasn't obvious this takes place like 2-ish yrs earlier than the main story #fic

[o-i-w-u]

silly smear frames (?) i find funny/cute :D

startin off with the first one- uhm uh you uh,, perce' you good?

shit shes been turned into a mound o' hair

i also find this similar one silly :3

what has he seen...?

i have nothing to say about this he just looks like a disgusting rat man. (/aff)

okie time for the cute captures :3c

guh- (ILOVETHISWOMANGAHAHAAAAAHHHLOOKLOOKLOOKKKK)

she look :Dc

awewewwewe

AWEWEWE

MOLLY AEEEJEJEJEJFH

I LOVE YOU YOUR SO FRIEND SHAPED !!

#cut me some slack for this absolute bullshit post #its midnight and instead of sleeping im rewatching epithet erased #i have stuff to do tomorrow. #BUT. thats not important #the important thing is uh #looking at the smear frames of the intro song #also i ain't throwin shade to the animators AT ALL. smear frames are pretty damn necessary and they often look kinda silly goofy #and i like em #anyway thanks for readin my rant ig #heres a cookie 🍳 #fuck thats a egg. #i am so tired #char speaks

[keelanrosa]

terfs when a study shows literally anything positive about trans people/transitioning: 'hm i think this requires some fact-checking. Were those researchers REALLY unbiased? Because if they were biased this doesn't count and if they weren't knowingly biased they probably were unconsciously biased, woke media affects so much these days. Have there been any other studies on this? Because if there haven't been this could be an outlier and if there have been and they all agree that's a bit odd, why aren't there any outliers, and if there have been and any disagree we really won't know the truth until we very thoroughly analyze them all, will we? Were there enough subjects for a good sample size? Did every single subject involved stay involved through the whole study because if they didn't we should be sure nothing shady was going on resulting in people dropping out. Are we 110% sure all the subjects were fully honest and at no point were embarrassed or afraid to admit they didn't love transitioning to the people in charge of their transition? Are we 110% sure none of the subjects were manipulated into thinking they were happy with their transition? In fact we should double-check what they think with their parents, because if the subjects and their parents disagree it's probably because they've been manipulated but their cis parents have not and are very unbiased. How many autistic subjects were there because if there weren't enough then this doesn't really study the overlap between autistic and trans and if there were too many then we just don't know enough about what causes that overlap to be sure this study really explains being trans and isn't just about being autistic. How many AFAB subjects were there because if there weren't enough this is just another example of prioritizing AMAB people and ignoring the different struggles of girls and women and if there were too many how do we know sexism didn't affect the results. Was the study double-blinded? We all know double-blinded is the most reliable so if this one wasn't that's a point against it even if the thesis literally physically could not be double-blinded. Look i'm not being transphobic, i want what's best for trans people! Really! But as a person who is not trans and therefore objective in a way they cannot possibly be, i just think we should only take into account Good Science here. You want to be following science and not being manipulated or experimented upon by something unscientific, right?'

terfs when they see a study of 45 subjects so old it predates modern criteria for gender dysphoria and basically uses 'idk her parents think she's too butch', run by a guy who practiced conversion therapy, 'confirmed' by a guy who treated the significant portion of subjects who didn't follow up as all desisting, definitely in the category of 'physically cannot double-blind this', completely contradicted by multiple other studies done on actual transgender subjects, but can be kinda cited as evidence against transitioning if you ignore everything else about it: 'oOOH SEE THIS IS WHAT WE'RE TALKIN BOUT. SCIENCE. Just good ol' unbiased thorough analysis. I see absolutely no reason to dig any deeper on this and if you think it's wrong you're the one being unscientific. It's really a shame you've been so thoroughly brainwashed by the trans agenda and can't even accept science when you see it. Maybe now that someone has finally uncovered this long-lost study from 1985, we can make some actual progress on the whole trans problem.'

#science #transphobia #cass review #less 'cass review' generally more 'zucker specifically' because this same problem exists outside cass #have lost count of the number of times i've seen 'well THAT study may have said most trans kids persist but it MUST be wrong' #'there's another study says the exact opposite. that one's right. obviously.' #but cass is why i'm annoyed by it now #normally i don't have a problem with critical observations and questions. yeah check your science! that's good! #there have been some bullshit studies and some bullshit interpretations of good studies! scientific literacy is important! #and normally also am willing to pretend the people pulling reaction 1 on some studies and reaction 2 on others are. not the same group. #but now there's a ton of cass supporters tryna say 'oh the cass review didn't reject or downplay anything for being pro-trans!' #'some studies just weren't given much weight for being poor evidence! not our fault those were all studies with results trans people like!' #…….………….aight explain why zucker's findings are used for the 'percentage of trans kids who don't stay trans' stat instead of anyone else's. #would've been more scientifically accurate to say 'yeah we just don't know.' #'studies have been done but none of them fit our crack criteria sooooo *shrug*' #like COME ON at least PRETEND you're genuinely checking scientific correctness and not looking for excuses to weed out undesirable results #am also mad about zucker in particular because his is possibly the most famous bullshit study #quite bluntly if you're doing trans research and think 'yeah this one seems reasonable' you. are maybe not well-informed enough for the job #there's just no way you genuinely look at the research with an eye toward accurate science regardless of personal bias #and walk away thinking 'hm that zucker fellow seems reasonable. competent scientists will respect that citation.' #that's one or two steps above doing a review of vaccine science and seriously citing wakefield's mmr-causes-autism study #it doesn't matter what the rest of your review says people are gonna have OPINIONS on that bit #and outside anti-vaxxers most of those opinions will be 'are you actually the most qualified for this because ummmm.' #people who agree with everything else will still think someone more competent could've done a much better job #people who disagree with everything else will point to that as proof you don't know shit and why should we listen to you #anyway i'd love a hugeass trans science review with actual fucking standards hmu if you know of one cause this ain't it #……does tumblr still put a limit on how many tags you can include guess me and my tag essay are about to find out.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Did he have a good track record or results? Okay no but he did refer to Mazepin exclusively as "that fucking Haas" and has seemingly blocked the aforementioned former fucking Haas driver as he's the only one left untagged in that unhinged instagram post, and he was cute and he made me laugh so yeah I'm going to miss Nicholas Latifi.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #nicholas lafiti #i do think another driver deserved the seat more on the basis of the results #but few drivers have ever provided me the high that was Nicky in Q3 in Silverstone #results wise this year he's tied with Nyck who participated in one race while he was there for all of them #so it was time for the seat to go to another driver #without question #but I'm not sure his replacement is the right driver to get the seat #gotta say it's bullshit not one of the top 3 in f2 has a guaranteed seat #like liam has a shot next year because i do see some reshuffling of the rb + at lineups like max is the only one guaranteed for '24 i think #but Felipe is fucked if he's waiting for Aston Martin because i don't see Laurence firing his son #the only way he could get Nando's seat is if Nando swaps teams again but he has a multi year contract & el plan so Felipe has 0 hope at am #let's be real Nando ain't going nowhere #and with his results he more than deserves his seat #and good luck theo because haas clearly doesn't want rookies and alfa romeo seem happy with their lineup #unless Ferrari actually implodes I don't see any hope for any of their afflicted drivers whether its sauber like theo or reserve like mick #or test like gio for getting a seat #but then again it's Ferrari one can never rule out Ferrari imploding

[acromandus]

i love spending yet another day in a row bashing my head against the wall as tech and web dev seems to fuckin deprecate so quickly none of the tutorials I find are useful anymore

I watch the guy write his code and install his packages with no issue and run flawless code while I get errors when trying to launch my version of the exact same thing because package B deprecated ages ago or the newer version has different syntax :))))

so I delve into the documentation and make the necessary changes to get this shit to work and then realise I've diverged so far off what the tutorial has done I have no idea where I am anymore and i end up feeling so lost sometimes I wonder why I bother, honestly

#personal #i'm too stubborn to give so no worries there but like #the threshold to learn this shit is super high #once I get it tho it'll be smooth sailing #and no i'm not wasting my money on some scam course when I can legit all the same info for free #like do not waste money on udemy or sth as it ain't worth it #backend is such complete and utter bullshit to try learn if you're a complete novice tho holy shit #in contrast frontend web dev is actually really nice #probably because you can actually *see* the work you've put in to make everything look nice and to improve experience

[ventiswampwater]

Are the tags on your sideblog wip names? 👀

aaaaaa, not yet!! 💖 they're all just aesthetic nonsense tags to help me sort the vibes!! however!! the blog title (gas station roses) IS a reference to a fic idea that's been bopping around my mind for. months jfdhsjdfsj

TBH. it's not even a wip really djhjdfhjdfs more just an unga bunga ooga booga hehehehehehehe idea that lives in my mind palace rent-free

🤡 these are legit the only notes I have EVER!! written for it:

and I FULLY have no idea if I'll ever fuckin write it. but it's a fave idle hehehehehehehehehe thought. regrettably

.........u will probably.........start to see stuff tagged as.........we ain’t going to the town (we’re going to the city)/no exit..............that's the ONLY bo wip I have rn that has an actual title!!! at this point 💀

#we ain't going to the town. is a dumbass self-indulgent fic about meetin this loseridiot in nola. at a concert. #he tells a REALLY dumb and weird lie. and then u make out w/him in an alley and he fucks u nasty [smthn smthn the definition of insanity] #smh @ myself. girl. jdfshjfdsjhsfdjhsdf #ALSO!!!! taking this ask as an opportunity to say!! brook if u see this ILY. and I need u let u know #that I'm slowly. slowly. like a tortoise. like a snail. #crafting ur request into a fic. I love love love this idea u threw @ me. v much #just need some time to let the nasty marinate into a grody stew of bullshit jhdsjhfsdjhdsfj #<333 #asks #anonymous

[halechief]

im just like claire fr. weak for her man. clean the slate baby reinstate the chances lets fucking GOOOOOOO

#im about to write some shit y'all ain't never seen on halechief.tumblr.com #im taking frank and claire supremacy #im talking Marriage #im talking my husband doesn't apologize .. even to me #im talking i love that woman .. i love her more than sharks love blood #y'all are about to see the pragmatiism special #the heelscrossed special #( and also all my other usual bullshit : ) )

[rotzaprachim]

i’m not letting spn off the hook for being violently racist but like... in the same way that they use Bitch as a generic swear because they couldn’t say fuck, i do wonder if some of the creepy midsommar whitebread waspiness pervading the spn Vision of America comes from filming in a place to my knowledge way, way, way waspier (rural british columbia) than a lot of the locations they were claiming to be 

#like i'm not from the contiguous us i've never lived there but.... many of these locales even the rural ones ain't that white #and its like. blindingly white. some of this is on the script which is disturbingly honor bound to never have a last name that isn't anglo #but mississippi? texas? colorado? even a lot of the urban midwest like chicago and milwaukee? i call bullshit

[kaxen]

Sometimes I think I don't explain The Artist's insecurities very well in Cyberpink 1824, but on the other hand...

IT'S JUST THE RESULT OF BEING IN A PROFESSION SPENT 75% INSIDE YOUR OWN HEAD AND DEPENDING ON THE SUBJECTIVE REACTIONS OF OTHERS TO GET YOUR BREAD.

#cyberpink 1824 #I used to be confused as to why artists who could kick my ass 10 ways to Sunday just kept it as a hobby #but now it's like y'know what? that makes so much fuckin' sense #art as a profession can be rather rough on mental health #ESPECIALLY IF ART IS YOUR ONLY HOBBY #and some people can't afford having more hobbies than that #having a “boring” job where no one can emotionally manipulate you by calling you too dispassionate about your “life's calling” #is not a bad decision #*gestures at how much abuse there is in the games and vfx industries* #man plumbers don't have this problem #the leak is fixed or it ain't #“wow why aren't you giving 300% for the love of toilets?” #“wow why aren't you groveling to have this job for shit pay at this company that made your childhood?” #of course noncreative industries also have their abuses too *gestures at all the bullshit farmworkers go through* #but there's like a certain brand of killing yourself from the inside that comes with creating in a shitty work environment

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

sometimes self care is watching The Last of Us with your mom and slowly but surely wanting to make up an AU for every other blessed fandom you’re in

UGH IT’S SO GOOD

it hits all my ‘dark shit and medical shit interspersed with small bits of fluff and hope’ cravings ahahaha

do I dare to make a TLOU for the Kuro characters here............. DO I DARE.

#mod post #I might dare who fuckin knows #it'd give me an excuse to write Elysia into more things with her being head honcho of the London Reaper branch's medical department #but it would also give me an excuse to write some CREEPY MEDICAL HORROR BULLSHIT #and I mean........ it ain't like Kuro doesn't have ANY of that in its canon stuff soooooo............. #anyway should I or should I not dare to do this thing XD

[thegeminisage]

graphic desgin IS my passion (coming soon to a theater near you) (and by soon i mean like thursday)

#personal #loz blogging #i tried to find some shitty fireworks but all the good ones are under 5000 years of copyright bullshit and ain't nobody got time for that #and for the record i made that bg image myself in my teens in like 15 minutes #one time my brother was showing me some wallpapers he found on 4ch*n for the ipad and i was like hey1 that's mine! #he didn't believe me until i showed him the .psd #so apparently it's famous 🥰

[andsotheuniverseended]

just sitting here thinking about the imagery of a forest that’s warm even in the dead of winter, and in it is a frozen tree that doesn’t melt even at the height of summer

#Snow #dnd #Universe Ends Posts #listen. if that ain't some fairy tale ass bullshit i don't know WHAT is #which is excellent considering it happened in fairy tale campaign #anyways i am spending. too much time thinking abt this campaign #just rotating Snow and Red and Thom in my mind like marshmallows over a fire

[sword-and-lance]

asks very nicely for the f-35 forbidden rant :3

((well you are very literally asking for it LOL

SO

first thing's first: the notion of building product while you're still in the dev cycle is just

um

well

look as someone who works in production engineering with a product that really never was quite done 'baking' in the development phase, that gives me all the fucking hives you don't DO THAT all that does is lead to shitloads of rework on LITERALLY EVERYTHING YOU’RE BUILDING instead of just a couple protos any time some egghead designers decide they wanna try something new, you’d think “don’t do that” would be common sense but no apparently not, and all it does is it wastes so much time and effort and also money for that matter

and also the money pit the F-35 is is the big one that everyone makes fun of and for good reason and like..."we're gonna build prod while still developing the product" is only part of why that costing went so absolutely buckwild

the other major reason it went so bananas (B-A-N-A-N-A-S) is the scope creep on what that poor thing was meant to do was sheer madness; it has to have stealth it has to dominate air superiority it has to be The Bestest at air strikes it has to be amazing at electronic warfare tasks it has to be the fastest the most maneuverable it has to be the best at reconnaissance it has to carry a shitload of weaponry it Must be the Best Plane Evar and be able to do everything and also do it on the cheap and be compatible with a bunch of different countries’ shit and--

okay surely y'all can see the problem with this I fucking hope

you can't expect to make one singular plane do all this shit and still be actually good at anything it's doing lmao

it's not even like the F-15 where there are variants that specialize in one or the other thing, no no no, the only variants on the F-35 are for whether it needs an airfield or if it's VTOL or if it's carrier-based, last I understood it

and yeah surely enough trying to make a plane amazing at everything means it’s mediocre at everything instead, IIRC even pilots weren’t really impressed with it when they went and tested it, and it being a glitchy POS a good amount of the time probably didn’t help anyone’s impressions any lmao

because yeah the computer “brains” of the whole damn plane were also pretty damn bad and liked to had to be rebooted once every 4-ish hours which wtaf the testers I run that are literally 10+ years old don’t even have a failure rate that bad and they’re still running Windows XP

oh and that computer has no backup or redundancy which is even fucking better lmao

AND the DoD decided that it didn’t wanna give the source code to its allies which is even fucking funnier just on top of all that, like y’all really trying to be all “hey we should make a plane together!” and then hoard the code like the pack of rude deeply-overfunded dipshits y’all are

oh and ofc Lockheed-Martin is also a pack of deeply-overfunded dipshits for even promising that they could meet this fucking impossible scope creep, and just as a cherry on top, they and the DoD also hate each other over all this nonsense lmao, since both of ‘em really just wanna keep pointing fingers at each other over the huge number of fucking problems this thing’s having

and if I recall correctly both of ‘em have been caught very flagrantly manipulating data to try and make the plane’s problems especially in reliability look less severe than they really are, which LOL

also, ofc this being a military project means this might just be hearsay but apparently the design in general on this thing is. not great. on a variety of levels and fixing it requires basically redesigning the whole plane and yeah there goes more time and money

and you’d think that maybe the DoD would just go “okay this isn’t getting anywhere let’s back up and regroup” long before we got to this point but nope can’t ever admit that we might’ve dun goofed in letting the scope creep this fucking bad, gotta save face after all the money we spent on this stupid boondoggle of a plane, even if it means demanding the government keep starving its constituents to feed our bloated-ass war machine that isn’t even doing any better than our existing fucking war machines

and ofc the government just listens because ‘MURICA but anyway

which yeah honestly it would’ve been a better use of everyone’s time and money to keep maintaining our already pretty damn fine aircraft, especially when we’re getting pretty solid modern proof that technical superiority in aircraft =/= actually being able to win fights, Russia

like just on top of literally everything else about this program

and as a final personal very petty note, the damn thing doesn’t even look that good either lmao))

#; mun ranting #not ffxiv #you ask for the weird niche vintage of locked'n'loaded rant and I'll pour ya a glass lol #and as an aside: this is entirely going off of memory and I could be wrong about some of it #but it really IS just an expensive bullshit plane and y'all ain't gonna convince me otherwise