#getlouder

[vermiculated]

getlouder replied to your post “Your mildness is your most attractive feature, after your face.”...”

Canon is for suckers

what if we gave Matthew really (rilly) sick abs when Ben returns from the enspacement, actualizing the amnesia twist of the namesake movie? 

“I don’t know either,” Ben says, softly, looking around Matthew’s house. It’s tidier than he remembers, fewer things out, the books neatly on high shelves, but he doesn’t know if that’s because Matthew’s been bored and off work with a head injury or if this is who he is. Who he has been. “I don’t think I can help.” 

“Oh.” Matthew tilts his head: slightly forward, not to the side. Ben’s trying to notice these things. Would he have known if Edith hadn’t stopped him to say, if Lavinia hadn’t noticed Matthew staring down at a signature page at work? Could anything have gone wrong with Matthew alone, unfamiliar? The thought spreads in its horror. Lavinia insisted, when Ben met her for a hurried lunchtime cocktail, that Matthew hadn’t called his mother, -- but she’s always been compassionate. The gleam of Matthew’s forehead is startlingly golden, dawn on the water. “This is kind of you, to come. I’m quite sorry that I don’t remember anyone at all.” 

“There’s been a war,” Ben explains, inadequately, as though his empty, clutching hands are somehow evidence. “Did you know?” 

Matthew had kept up on the news, at least back at the beginning, when he and Ben could still speak to one another, rushed promises and the silent space when Matthew had wanted to ask, Ben just knew he wanted to ask where the call was from. “I heard.” Matthew must be curious, Matthew’s always been curious. Matthew had wanted to know what Ben was thinking before this. Not before this, before the other this. There is a smooth sheet of water inside Matthew’s mind, an abruptly-terminating lake. The darkness down its sides is where Matthew’s recollection must have gone. 

Like a quarry with all the stones cleared out, turned into statues and countertops, paving stones and walls. There’s nothing here, nothing except the horrifying darkness of telling Matthew everything all over again. A place with no use and no meaning, because suffering has never meant anything in itself, only in the telling. “I went away to it, but I came back.” 

“I’m glad of it,” Matthew says, with none of his customary asperity. “I would have worried, if I had known.” His shirt hangs down his body like a shroud. “Were you away for a very long time?” 

[vermiculated]

getlouder replied to your post “mimaveil replied to your photo “mimaveil: getlouder: ...”

Exceptionally relatable!

The killing of unrelated Resistance members and ordinary galactic citizens is unforgivable. The killing of family members? Maybe he had good reason for those murders!

speaking of murdering one’s family: Luke  never thought about this in canon because it was too distressful, but in a role-swap/probably in space yurt, he does consider offing Ben from a distance. The Force laps at him like a shore at the beginning of a storm, and Luke knows it will get so much worse. Han feels miserable, Luke can feel it even as Han hides out on the Falcon, and his sister is as unrecognizable as she ever was. 

They’d only known one another for a few years, and she’s come back, unknowable, with a Force-trained son who looks nothing like her. What did Leia do? Luke can’t understand her well enough to know what she wouldn’t do: steal a baby, delude a family, leave a smoking hole behind. 

This leads him, naturally, to the invisible fire of his purported nephew’s mind. It feels like screaming. Jagged edges, and a mind isn’t even supposed to have an edge, fear lining the underside. Luke has never been much good at this, but what he does find is so frightening that he cannot comprehend it. Ben mind feels like nothing Luke has ever investigated before, not even the way that their erstwhile allies think. Does Leia know this? Could she understand it? He wonders if he could save them all a lot of trouble. Smooth out those frenetic lines, relax into a soothing clarity, cool the blinking intensity, stop Ben’s breath entirely, take him away from this place. He grew up somewhere quiet, Leia said. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice the end of consciousness. It’s nothing like dying, Luke thinks, even as it is death. It would be as a field, a rising sun, and then nothing at all.  

[vermiculated]

Also I've decided Matthew has a fake ID and a well cultivated American accent- he uses it a couple of times to cover their tracks, maybe over cautious, but it always pisses Ben off, and once he snaps "it's like something my shitty dad would do", which is both not quite true and not quite false, and they have a bit of a row but Matthew knows that Ben is tired and scared, he had that particularly bad dream the night before. He gets them a hotel for the night, nicer than they've had so far.

The fake id says "David" obviously.

There are words that Matthew normally stumbles over, and his grammar is a little too precise to be believably anything ("no one talks like you," Ben accuses, one afternoon when Matthew comes by the garage and asks what Ben is doing 'at the week-end.' he plucks a fan belt with two fingers and Ben kind of can't believe him, coming here to Ben's work, but also how nice it is to see him, his way of moving through the world. "you sound unreal."

Matthew looks up from the belt. "yeah? maybe I am. see if you get together with someone unreal, I'll take you to the show on Saturday." Even the light is grimy, clogged fuel lines and the spatter of oil. Ben knows he's got streaks of the stuff across his shirt and in his hair. He smells like exhaust.

Is Matthew going to kiss him? Take his hand? The crew here would be okay with that, nothing bad is going to happen. Ben finds that he can't convince himself of that. "really? you wanna go?" He looks around for a rag to clean his hands on; not finding one, he wipes them on his jeans. "I thought you couldn't come."

"of course I can come." Ben nods. He looks at Matthew carefully. That sounded the way everyone else here talks, the vowels long and flat. It's not how he usually talks. Ben wouldn't notice but he mentioned it earlier. "Wouldn't miss it." Matthew doesn't sound or look like he belongs here. Ben's been noticing this, lately. Matthew doesn't talk about what he did before coming here, which is fine, one of them should have some secrets. It has to be somewhere far away, though.

It's nice to think about that: a foreign boyfriend. Like they're more than they are though the characterization, rather than less. Matthew makes Ben aspire to stuff like that, like introducing one another as 'boyfriend' and being together. It’s nice. He's precise, though; Ben's supposed to clock out in two minutes, and here Matthew is. His shirt is tawny and in this light, his eyes look so bright blue that they seem like a child's impression of a face more than a real person. Ben could look at him for a long time without growing impatient. "you uh, you wanna get a drink when I finish up? It's not long." He'd been de-greasing a wrench, filling out the time after finishing with a demanding Toyota. The offer is not less valuable for originating from him.

Matthew nods, "sure. you know a place nearby?") but it's not until they're on the road that Ben starts asking why.

he does get an answer.

[vermiculated]

getlouder replied to your post “terrible tuesday: robert crawley v/s logic”

I'm thoroughly enjoying our two minute hate that the replies have turned into - seeeeeeeething with 'I could kill that motherfucker' realness from us the reading public. Smash the plates!, we cry. Throw the cherries glacé against the wall and see if it sticks, we take the drinks from the table when you get up and leave 'em, burn it down and so on and so forth.

mimaveil replied to your post “terrible tuesday: robert crawley v/s logic”

"He is assailed by her." WAS THERE EVER SUCH A RAWBERT THOUGHT HOW "the fire burns snappishly" pass the port from hand to hand HONESTLY I WAS SO IMPRESSED BY THE SIMULACRUMBLE-CAKE THAT I FORGOT TO BE IRRITATED BY HIM UP TO THE LINE "Cora simpers" and then my rage returned in fullfucking conflagration

getlouder replied to your post “terrible tuesday: robert crawley v/s logic”

GLORIOUS '19 (or something)

getlouder replied to your post “terrible tuesday: robert crawley v/s logic”

ENJOY BEING LEFT FOR O'BRIEn (after some curtains get caught on fire)

mimaveil replied to your post “terrible tuesday: robert crawley v/s logic”

QRL QRL QRLLRLRLRL-ICUE we are DEEP in the fucking box of Rawbert's mind and I am sillysallying morosely down the dimlit corridors shoulder to wallpaper (and fucking loving it)

BURNING IT DOWN. Robert’s mind is like a box canyon, you know? Early on he put some variety of spacefascism in it, and there’s no way out, and now it’s all crowded in, with his pride and his vanity and his subservience to the estate. Because, really, I think what separates Robert from the more overt villains in this story (Snoke, JESS, spacefascist officers, Miaw, some dudes who heap kindling/pour gasoline on the trashfire) is that Robert conducts his wickedness with an absolutely clear conscience. so he made a bit of money in the last war; men like MacClare explain that they made it by selling the Imperials short; the Crowborough boy smiles when he talks about ‘profiteering.’ There was a bit of money to be made, why shouldn’t he make it?

Robert never thinks that he's done anything wrong. He really hasn't, according to himself. His opinion is what matters most.

He also tells his wife at one point "shame that Matthew and Edith didn't hit it off any better. They would have made a fine couple." (not a HANDSOME ONE, Robert's just sharp-cruel enough not to compliment him middle daughter on her looks. And his cousin had a plain-looking family. Very clean. He hadn't expected that; they were middle-class. Reg had a dab hand at neat stitching but never tried that coordination at appropriate things, like duck shooting. Plain and clean. Robert had stroked the little boy's brow, once, while the child was sick. He might have become a gentleman. His hair had been very fine, Robert recalls, soft as the sleeve of a dress. He'd backed out of the door like Matthew was a potentate, because he might have been found where he shouldn't be. Once the door was safely closed, Robert had returned to his graphing. He's been keeping a record of the weather. he's always been interested in the world around him. the natural world: the air in the morning, mist on the the lawn, fecundity from year to year. he has kept a chart since coming home from school to be on the estate. It had felt like schoolwork, busy and satisfying when done, and had kept his mother from intruding too much. Matthew might like that advice; he's only a few years younger than Robert had been when leaving school. Robert resolves to tell him it when he's awake.)

The nib of Cora's pen nearly cracks the screen where she's writing.

[actouttees]

YOUR VOICE IS YOUR POWER…

Change starts when you do. The world doesn’t shift without voices brave enough to rise.

Act Out Tees ~ www.actouttees.com

[actouttees]

HAPPY NEW YEAR ~ YOUR VOICE IS YOUR POWER!

Change starts when you do. The world doesn’t shift without voices brave enough to rise.

Act Out Tees ~ www.actouttees.com

[mountains-moving-91]

Judgements R Harsh

Who are we to judge? It is almost like a natural thing most peeps do, by default. But some pass judgements, and some are really harsh. I’ve had a lot of extra time on my hands lately, and I have done a lot of extra thinking. We all live such different lives. Some post about the perfect moments and live a life they hate. Some flaunt the extra life and have very little. Some have it all and want less. The point is, we take things like pictures on social media - keep in mind, who in the hell posts about their most miserable details? - and we make some kind of judgement in our head about what we are looking at. Good or bad, inward or outward feelings formed, and we make judgements. Some compare lives to what they see online or in public and judge themselves accordingly. Some FULLY/TINT who they are and project outward. What is the point of all of this? Why are we not normalizing the pain and hurt we all go through? Why is it considered more “normal” to be so strong around others, that we go home and suffer alone? Some suffer so much so alone, that they end up harming or killing themselves. Some suffer so much alone that they end up looking to drugs/alcohol as a coping-mech. 

I try to be normal but isn’t weird what’s up anyways? Let’s WonderWoman the SuperMan. I struggle to enjoy most social media - things like Facebook and insta-me-famous. I personally feel like it is a never-ending-war of negative S.H.I.T. backwards and forwards. Take a trip with me and look back to your high-school years and even earlier. If you think bullies - now think cyber-bullies. War at home turned war at school turned war online, for our children. No wonder shit is literally blowing up. 

I can take this point, and twist it so many ways. We have unhappy adults, raising unhappy kids, turning into violent youth. We have a future to protect. We have change to instill in our children. We have to get louder about mental health. I’m talking mental health classes equivalent to core education. I’m talking increasing counselor staff and making mandatory reoccurring sessions with each student. Sometimes home life sucks. Sometimes kids are dealt shitty hands. That shouldn’t impact their future so much and it doesn’t have too. Take a stand, with me. Don’t let the babes take the hit for yours. 

[jeaniefranklins]

getlouder

Oh my god you’re a genius

I'm surprised no one beat me to it! the idea just seems so intuitive.