#celestial-annihilation

you… you absolutely can my friend… i hope this is what you had in mind 

i almost put him in a cow costume. almost

You Trusted Me

The meetings are held in the basement of a church, as these things often are, and that only compounds Nix’s desire to be anywhere else. As soon as he walks through the door, he gets flashbacks to his childhood and hours spent squirming in an uncomfortable pew, tugging at his collar. Now he has traded a pew for a plastic chair, but when they ask him to share—when he talks about how he wanted a drink so badly he almost took a swig of cooking sherry—it feels like sitting in a confessional. He expects them to tell him to say ten Hail Marys as penance, but instead they thank him, which feels almost as bad.

On the drive to the church every Thursday night, he passes a bar, the marquee out front promising cheap drinks and live music, and every single Thursday night, he wants to turn into the parking lot. Dick would never know he skipped his meeting, not if he rushed upstairs and brushed his teeth as soon as he got home. Most of the time Nix comes home to find him passed out on the couch anyway, an open book on his chest or the TV playing in the background.

oh my god

is that a good oh my god or an oh my god oh my god

Ask and ye shall receive!! (I haven’t been able to write much lately since I’ve been trying to make headway on ofic, but I have enough to share a snippet!)

---

On the seventh day, he hears footsteps on the stairs.

The sound is muffled through the door, but Lew can tell they’re heavy boots, like the kind Dick wore when he was working in the garden. It’s not his sister then, and probably not Harry or Ron. Could be Carwood. They’d send him in first probably, knowing if anyone would soothe Lew into allowing visitors, it’d be him. Lew sits up slowly and stares at the door, waits for it to open or someone to call through it. “Go the fuck away,” he yells when no other voice breaks the silence. The footsteps reach the second floor and stop, and Lew imagines Carwood hesitating there, thinking maybe it’s not his place to intrude after all. He’d be smart to think that. Lew calls out again. “I said get out.”

Nothing. No more footsteps. No familiar voice.

Lew means to wait it out, but then he gets to thinking that a confrontation might be nice. Some yelling. Maybe take a swing or two—though he doesn’t really want to hit anyone right now. He’s hurting, but he doesn’t want to make anyone else hurt. That’s selfishness talking, not compassion. He won’t let anyone else hurt, if he can help it. He just wants to get some of the anger out of his body before it burns him up, explodes out of him. There’s enough in there to level this house, he thinks, or at least blow out the windows, rain shards of glass down on the lawn. He has to get it out.

He’s at the bedroom door in two steps. He pulls it open, the sharp edge of his tongue at the ready.

if feel like you've posted this before... haha

It’s a wonder I don’t post it every singe day tbh.

whip-pan replied to your post “Oh my God, someone make me write something.”

mood

Why is this whole writing thing so hard??

trailsofpaper replied to your post “Oh my God, someone make me write something.”

Write for eight minutes. Set a timer and just write for eight minutes

oh yeah don't forget the privatization of air traffic control!! fucking hell

Goody. The thing you really want to have deregulated. 

dancinguniverse replied to your post “dancinguniverse replied to your post: I would be...”

the good news is representatives from actual places with constituents probably won't let him cut most of this stuff. But there are so many things on the list, I'm sure people won't be able to defend them all. I'm mostly resigned to not having a budget again for the next however many years. I'm at least curious as to whether Congress will entertain his stupid Wall at all, and whether he'll sign a budget that doesn't account for that.