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Highlights of the America 250 event (shitshow) in Washington, DC for July 4th:
- Due to storms, they had to evacuate the National Mall grounds. But the MAGA crowd didn't want to leave. They just stood around chanting "USA! USA!" They were convinced liberals were messing with the weather. Reportedly, one of the security guards got so fed up that he threw a chair at them.
- Fox News didn't have anything to share while they were waiting for Trump's delayed speech, so they just showed a feed of him staring at the TV. And he was watching Fox News.
- A bunch of the crowd that was evacuated wasn't even let back in, and they were raging about it on social media. Some of them waited 10 to 12 hours in record-setting heat (102°F) and never got to see anything. All special passes were canceled. So much for money privilege.
- Because the program was running so far behind, several performers were cancelled.
- Trump's speech began at 11:15 p.m., after a sizeable amount of his followers had abandoned the event. It was unremarkable in just like all of his other ones- a bunch of "America is the greatest nation," blaming Democrats for everything bad, and general gibberish.
- The fireworks didn't begin until almost midnight, so they ended on July 5th.
- They wanted to have more fireworks than ever before, but they set off so many that the sky was covered in light, and it just looked like everything was on fire. The finale was not visible due to the smoke.
- Trump appeared to fall asleep during the show.
- The immense amount of pyrotechnics fucked up the air in DC
“dr mensah is murderbot’s mother figure!” “no, she’s its romantic interest!” you’re all wrong, murderbot is a jaded 19th century royal marine and dr mensah is the first charismatic captain it’s ever had and brother it did not stand a chance
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This is an awesome use of what is probably a master's degree if not a doctorate and I am 100% thrilled that she shared it even though it was embarrassing and she squeaked.
Californian (sup, fellow desert-havers) i've been using this since i saw it and it works so fucken good dude (i often have to put like 8 dogs in my car, so it's extra important my car isn't attempting to go super-nova when we get in)
This is Dr Hannah Fry, the first Professor of Public Understanding of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge, she’s got a list of achievements as long as your arm, and she’s bloody brilliant!
anyways (I say this as someone who is deeply critical of the united states government, military, unchecked capitalism, police, etc) I am SICK of people treating america as if it has no cultural value or positives so….. I love u 85 million acres (bigger than italy) of national parks. I love u harlem renaissance. I love u groundhogs day. I love u sweet tea and fried chicken and jambalaya. I love u apple cider donuts and maizes on crisp autumn days. I love u 95k miles of coastlines and new england fisherman and hand knitted sweaters. I love u halloween where millions of people dress up and give candy to strangers and carve jack o’lanterns. I love u small talk and small towns and potlucks and bringing over casseroles to your struggling neighbors. I love u cowboys and ranch hands and arizonian cactus. I love u appalachian trail and dirtbikes and divebars. I love u sparklers and fireflies. I love u mark twain and toni morrison and emily dickinson and henry david thoreau. I love u rock n roll i love u bluegrass and hippies i love u jimi hendrix and nirvana and CCR and janis joplin. I love u victorian houses and jonny appleseed and john henry and mothman and bigfoot. I love u foggy days in the pacific northwest and neon signs and roadside attractions. I love u baseball and 1950s diners and soft serve. I love u native american art and pop art and poptarts. I love u blue jeans and barbecues and jazz musicians
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for the bio siblings au: celine meeting mutt and immediately noticing how much she looks like rumi's dad?
Ohhhh that would be. Not good! Seeing as this is an au where Rumi was conceived during rape.
Might be a little like this:
The mutt kicks her feet under the table, eyeing the exits from the living room. She knows each and every way out, of course, whether that be to skitter into the shadows of the penthouse and wait there, where no one can see her, until she feels safer or to leave.
But right now she is scared, so she looks them over again.
She knows that Rumi and Mira and Zoey won’t be mad if she decides she isn’t ready to meet Celine, but they also want her to, and she doesn’t want to disappoint them.
“Hey,” Mira says softly, and even though the mutt knew she was there, it makes her jump. “You wanna keep your hands busy until Celine gets here?”
And the mutt nods, and gets up and follows Mira into the kitchen, and she and Mira peel oranges together, Mira showing her how she can make the peel come off in one long piece and the mutt trying to mimic her.
(Yesterday, Rumi and Mira and Zoey went “emergency shopping,” because apparently they didn’t have enough “real food” around for when Celine would visit, and then Mira and the mutt started lunch this morning, so they can only makes a snack.
But it is a good snack.)
Eventually, the elevator doors open, and the mutt hears Rumi’s voice. “—planning to maybe do some stunt work myself, but apparently the insurance guys wouldn’t let me.”
“They do tend to get nervous about that kind of thing,” says a voice the mutt doesn’t know, a little careful, affectionate at the same time.
Celine.
“Do you want to go get Zoey?” Mira asks.
The mutt nods, arranging the orange segments on the plate with nervous fingers.
Mira does not make her hurry, just waits, lets her worry as much as she needs, before the mutt steels herself and hurries out of the kitchen to go get Zoey from her room.
She wishes Mira had made her hurry, though.
Because when she does, Celine and Rumi are only a few feet away.
And Celine gasps, dropping her bag to the ground, reaching into the Honmoon as the blood drains from her face.
Rumi knocks the glowing things out of Celine's hands before they can fully take shape. “Stop it!” she snaps at Celine, who is Rumi’s guardian, who is a Hunter, who looks so angry, the angriest the mutt has ever seen.
Celine is turning to her, oh no, turning the full brunt of her fury on Rumi—
And the anger dissolves into something else, something horrible, like terror, like abject pain.
Zoey’s hands squeeze the mutt’s shoulders; she hadn’t noticed them touching her at all.
Mira huffs. She’s planted herself directly in front of the mutt. “Let's try that again, huh? Kid, this is Celine, who is usually cooler than this. Celine, say ‘hi, kid who can barely squeeze a lemon without feeling bad about it’.”
Celine abruptly schools her expression into perfect neutrality. She’s looking directly at the mutt from behind Mira’s shoulder. Something in her intent focus is almost reminiscent of Rumi. Truly, this is the gaze of a hunter.
Rumi’s stance has softened. She doesn’t touch Celine, but she leans into her space, almost as if she’d like to. “I told you, remember?” she says, voice low. “She’s like me.”
“Yes, I hadn’t expected…” Celine does not finish the sentence. Instead, she shakes her head slightly and inclines it to the mutt in an almost-bow. “Hello, it’s good to meet you.”
The mutt swallows, the urge to run fighting with the urge to placate the Hunter fighting with the urge to duck herself closer behind Mira and all resulting in her doing nothing but shaking like the miserable, useless creature she is.
Zoey’s hands squeeze her shoulders again, comfortingly, pulling her back to her body.
Celine bends down to pick up her bag, finally looking away.
“Do you want to go back into the kitchen?” Zoey asks quietly. “You can stay in there as long as you want.”
The mutt shakes her head. If she went, she would never come back.
“You’re sure? I can go with you if that helps,” she adds.
But the mutt—the mutt looks over at Rumi, and Celine, and their intense gazes. She’s like me. Her voice shakes, but she still manages to force herself to speak. “I want to be brave.”
“You’re doing great,” Zoey says, and she lets go of the mutt’s shoulders—the mutt resists the urge to lean after the loss—and slips around to walk beside her.
The silence on the way to the couch is deeply awkward. And when they sit down.
“I am sorry,” the mutt says, remembering.
Everyone looks at her.
“About your tupperware,” she clarifies for Celine. “I should not have stolen it.”
And despite how Rumi and Mira and Zoey had talked about how upset Celine would get over the good tupperware being gone—though only ever when they thought the mutt could not hear, which meant the consequences very much would impact the mutt—Celine does not get angry.
“It’s alright,” she says. She does not sound like she means much it, everything flat and hollow, but she says it. “The girls can get new ones.”
The mutt wishes that she would just be upset. It is easier than kindness, even real-kindness and not false-kindness, though she knows it would make Mira, Zoey, and Rumi sad if she said that. Even so, it can feel like waiting to be hit.
At least if Celine just hit her, she wouldn’t have to wait.
Unfortunately, Celine seems to have a preference for waiting.
Her voice had been so warm and alive, behind the door, when she was speaking to Rumi. And then she had seen the mutt, and became quiet and careful.
The mutt understands. When you’re dealing with an unknown threat, it is smart to wait and observe. But she is in no way a threat to Celine, and she knows how dangerous it is for her to be perceived that way. What she doesn’t know is how to fix it.
Mira catches her eye and wiggles her eyebrows. The mutt does her best to wiggle back.
“Orange slices, anyone?” Mira says in a perfect monotone.
“Yes, please!” Rumi and Zoey say almost in tandem, and then smile warmly at each other.
The mutt collects all these looks for morale and looks at Celine. “You—you have raised Rumi well,” she stumbles. “She’s—great.”
Rumi smothers a laugh with an orange slice. But Celine frowns.
“Thank you,” she says slowly. “She is.”
Rumi chokes the orange down and fans herself. “Oh, go on.”
Celine eyes her sidelong. “With an ego to match, I’m sure.”
“I do nothing by half measures,” Rumi agrees.
“Mm,” says Celine, and is silent again.
Mira turns to Celine. “How about you ask her a question?” she says bluntly.
Celine obligingly turns to look at the mutt, and the mutt does her very best to meet her eyes. She manages only a glance. There’s something unfocused in Celine’s gaze. “How are you finding your room?”
“Good,” the mutt forces herself to say. “It’s—it’s very good.”
“Hm,” says Celine.
The mutt wants to wipe her sweaty palms on her nice new linen pants, but she resists.
“She’s been into linear algebra lately,” Mira says pointedly. “She thinks eigen decomposition is elegant.”
“I see,” says Celine.
The mutt has something stuck in her throat, she’s pretty sure, although she hasn’t touched the orange slices.
Rumi slaps her thighs. “Okay! Celine, I have a sponsorship proposal I wanted to run by you. Could you join me in the office for a moment?”
It takes everything Rumi has in her not to immediately snap at Celine and ask her what the hell she’s thinking once the door is shut behind them.
She takes a deep breath through her nose, grabbing her temper tight. “I don’t know what your issue is, but you better work it out before we get back in there.”
Celine doesn’t say anything.
Rumi doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that.
She turns around.
Celine is still standing at the door.
Rumi presses a hand against her temple, tired. “Look, I—I know I’ve done a lot of things that weren’t necessarily what you’ve wanted, but—“
“What?”
“She’s just a kid,” she finishes, nonetheless. “Whatever it is, don’t take it out on her.”
Celine looks—stricken, for some reason, at this remark. “Rumi-ya, I—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I never meant—I promised—“
“To protect all that was left of my mother, I know.” Rumi’s only heard it a million times. “Is that all you care about?”
“No, I—“ Celine closes her eyes and leans back against the door. “Before that. Miyeong made me promise her that I would never hold the demon against you.”
And Rumi’s breath stops. Her anger falters.
The demon means her father, however rarely Celine has spoken of him. Rarely enough that Rumi’s never heard this before.
“And I know she isn’t guilty of…” Celine pushes the heels of her hands into her eyes. “She looks so much like him.“
“Guilty?” Rumi echoes, the lump in her throat a violent and living thing.
(She doesn’t remember when she first came to the quiet, sickening conclusion that her father had raped her mother. She does remember the moment—the exact moment, watching Jinu look at that little girl with her hand drawn card—when she’d let herself consider anything else.)
Celine opens her eyes. “I never once looked at you and saw anything other than someone your mother loved. I know she isn’t your father. I’ll get over it, I promise. I just need a minute.”
“I’m messing this up,” says the mutt, worrying at her cuticle with a thumb. “What should I do?”
“No, you’re not,” Mira grumbles, visibly annoyed. “Celine is.”
“You were cute as a button!” Zoey agrees, and takes her hand so that now the cuticle-worrying is a much greater logistical challenge.
“Are buttons very good at making a good first impression?”
Zoey giggles. “Well… Celine is notoriously hard to impress.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mira says firmly.
The mutt frowns. None of that sounds right. “You don’t need to lie,” she says.
Mira looks offended. “I don’t lie.”
“She’s a Hunter,” says the mutt. “I’m a demon.”
“Can I make it any more obvious?” says Zoey. “No, Mira’s right, though. Even if that was her problem, no way that’s your fault. She knows better by now.”
“I think she’s… scared of me,” says the mutt.
They both laugh.
The mutt slips her hand away and tucks it in her lap.
“Nooo, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Zoey scrambles. “It’s just, we know Celine. She doesn’t get scared like that.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s a block of granite brought to life,” says Mira.
The mutt stares at her lap. She trusts their judgement, so much more than her own. But she knows what fear looks like.
On the streets, in a situation like this, the best strategy was to run. But, maybe here there could be a better option. She had rarely had the opportunity to clarify her intentions. Well, except—except for the woman who had taken the containers. And now she’s gotten to apologize for that too.
For all the good that did. In order to explain herself, she needs to be able to explain stuff.
The mutt considers her plan. Her thumb starts to drift towards her cuticle again.
“We should do your nails sometime,” Mira says, passing her an orange segment, not casually at all.
Unfortunately, they took the peels off earlier, so all the fiddling that she could do with the orange would be messy. She takes it anyway.
“Ooh, yes!” Zoey agrees. She holds her hands out in front of her, examining her nails. “Since we’re on hiatus right now, glam won’t even yell at us for at-home mani-pedis; we could have a chill hangout here or we could make a whole thing of it.”
The mutt knows this is an attempt to distract her from thinking about Celine. She hides her smile behind the orange segment. Lucky that she came up with an idea already.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Mira adds. She gestures between herself and Zoey. “We might be beholden to makeup culture and shit, but you shouldn’t be.”
The mutt considers this, for a moment. Zoey had helped her clean and trim her nails once, on the same day she had taught her how to wash her hands properly (all while rambling about how being several centuries old did not mean that a demon couldn’t keep up with advances in hygiene).
It was nice, having someone hold her hands so gently.
“Maybe,” she says. She would need to know more about what ‘a whole thing of it’ means first.
Before she can explain that, she hears footsteps down the hall, and goes still. Now it is time for her to put her plan into action.
Rumi comes in first, and she looks at the mutt, and she is… devastated. It is such an expression that the mutt looks down at herself, half-expecting to see blood spreading across her warm new shirt.
But there is nothing. And now her timing is off.
It is only after Celine comes in to the room, and not before she enters, that the mutt manages to sink to the floor, kneeling properly.
EYECRIMES WERE REQUESTED AND SO HERE THEY ARE
FOR SHAME!
@whitebeltwriter
@huntrx-dont-miss
@secondtolastrow
ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELVES TUMBLR SICKOS DOT COM DOT PNG???
IN THE WET CORNER, FOR TRAUMA FEST 2026, YOUR REIGNING CHAMPION........
RYU RUMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
IN THE ALSO WET CORNER, A NEW CHALLENGER....
MUTT LASTNAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE???????
OUR SOB OFF BEGINS STRONGLY, SEOUL IS UNDERWATER IN THE FIRST 10 MINUTES
CELINE HAS FLOATED AWAY
ZOEY AND MIRA HAVE FOUND A BOAT.
SO FAR, BOTH CONTENDERS HAVE PERFECT POINTS FOR SOBBING:
CRITERIA: BIG SAD EYES, AMOUNT OF TEARS, POWER CRYING
JOIN US NEXT TIME FOR THE NEXT EVENT:
SAYING YOU ARE FINE WHEN YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT FINE AT ALL
@whitebeltwriter I can't see your post, sorry! tumblr is all NO LOOKING AT MATURE BLOGS PEASANT
I believe Rumi will still prevail, with her vast experience at being best at being big sad seal eyes Rumi
the kids are calling them "stone fruits." they start off small—think cherries. then they're hooked and they need a quick fix, they get peaches, maybe some nectarines. it's all they can think about. before you know it, they're trying the really hard stuff—apricots, plums. once they taste a mango there's no going back.
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Piping hot take: I don't give a shit if straight actors play queer characters as long as they do so with empathy and authenticity. When you say shit like "only queer actors should play queer characters" what you're actually saying is only OUT queer actors should play queer characters. If you're assuming an actor (or anyone else, for that matter) who hasn't declared their sexuality is straight, you are participating in heteronormativity.
you're also saying that you, as an audience member, are entitled to private and intimate details of actors' personal lives, fwiw.
if you ever read any interview with Tim Curry, he's always very clear about finding this absurd. we all pretty much assume Tim Curry is queer, but we'll never know, because he has absolutely point-blank refused to discuss his dating life with the public or the media, because it's nobody's business but his (and anyone he's dating ofc).
it's also like--
some of you younger folk really need to go watch the documentary on Paul Reubens. "Peewee as Himself." Like, the context might help a little? for why so many of us who grew up before Obergefell et al really, really, really fucking hate this narrative where the public has a right to every single facet and detail of an actor's life? especially a queer actor?
actors, musicians, comedians, entertainers, etc., don't owe their audiences jack fucking shit about their personal lives. we can all get over that absurd entitlement any time.
I was just talking with my partner about this a few weeks ago.
Lee Pace is similarly an incredibly private man. For a long time we the public knew absolutely nothing about his dating life or anything about his family outside of little bits and pieces he shared, and even that was deliberately as vague as possible.
He played a trans woman in Soldier's Girl. It's based on a true story, and he actually met with the trans woman his character is based on. During the interview, he said something to the effect of having several stark realizations about himself after working with her and learning her story and her journey and her life.
I make the joke that anyone transgender heard the distinct sound of an egg cracking during that interview. And yet, Pace did not come out. Not until he was forced to, years later.
As, simply, "queer".
We now know he is married to a man. We know he identifies as queer, mostly because he was forced to by an interviewer who has a reputation for forcing very private celebrities to come out or risk losing status. We know he has dated men and women. By his own admission that playing Calpernia gave him very strong gender feelings and he saw a lot of himself both in the fictionalized character he played and in the real woman whose presence he was wow'd by.
Lee Pace might be a trans woman who has found it better to boymode for the sake of an acting career. Lee Pace might be a trans woman who avidly does not want to invite a spotlight into that part of his life- and who could blame him? Lee Pace might be an egg who has just barely started to crack, peeked out from beyond the shell and is not yet comfortable leaving the closet. Or Pace might be nonbinary, genderqueer, gay-as-gender, or... simply a cis gay man who feels it is nunya and enjoys being a little fruity and feminine in his spare time.
I don't claim to know the inner workings of Pace's mind, sexuality, or gender. But I do think that it would be wrong to force Pace to share what he clearly is not comfortable sharing for the entire world to see.
When it comes to celebrities who are respectful and also private, I don't think it is a bad thing if what we as fans know about them doesn't quite match up with the demographic they're playing. Sometimes, there's a reason they found a piece of themselves in the role. And especially when it has the blessing of the real life person that role is based on (such as in the case of Calpernia) or of the real life LGBT people working with that celeb every day - maybe the people directly involved with this know more about this person than we do watching from the other side of the screen.
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
titsay
vaporwave
jbbartram-illu
