#orig.txt

[im-stuck-in-traffic]

I'm seeing an astonishing lack of jokes about Joel's car going to Traffic Heaven like the Impala from Supernatural.

[donut-rat]

Hi!

Newest blog but been here forever ☠️

This blog is 21+ (heavy on the plus)

Call me August!

They/them pronouns

🏳️‍🌈 gay & trans as hell 🏳️‍⚧️

ENM - partnered (x2) 🌙✨️ not looking‼️

Asks & DMs open but behave - I block liberally

This blog is just an amalgamation of my brain, tags are mostly for my own organization or internal monolog.

DNI if you are a terf, racist, homophobic transphobic, zionist, or any other form of bigoted. This blog is not a safe space for you.

cashapp- $donutrat

Thanks!

tags below the cut

taken emojis:

😇, 🥨

my tags:

mug -> my face

talks -> my thoughts

mine -> random photography

on air -> music I love

orig.txt -> original text posts

anon answered/ask answered -> self explanatory

my art -> again, self explanatory

certified hottie -> mutual's pics

maybe more 😁

[qashtiel]

“C’monnnn, let me cut your hair,” says Dean. “Look at you, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Quit it, dude, it’s not Lag BaOmer yet,” Sam says, annoyed, reflexive, and Dean stills.

“I didn’t...” I didn’t realize you cared. I didn’t know you knew. I didn’t know the date. Why do you? “Okay. Whatever.”

Sam glances at him sideways, waiting for him to ask, probably, but Dean’s lost in thought. He turns to face the other wall before Sammy can find something weird in his expression to get on his case about.

Lag BaOmer. Not exactly Chanukah-level popularity. Kinda obscure. Which means Sam’s -- what? Done his research? Of course he has, it’s Sam. Probably dug up a bunch of old halacha texts and sat up all night by candlelight for the full yeshiva experience. Freak.

Dean’s taking apart his gun just for something to do, something to keep his hands moving, the motions automatic. Stanford’s hardly a yeshiva, but college is... different. Out of public high schools that never lasted more than a term or two, settling into a dorm. Away from motels and the car and the road. Time, at Stanford, to do some extracurricular reading. Fill in some gaps.

Maybe it’s his fault. Hell, Dad wasn’t gonna teach them this stuff. Dean’s not exactly an expert, but he could’ve said something. Passed on what he remembered, the little bits and pieces of tradition he hasn’t completely lost. Check the gun to be sure it’s empty. He could’ve told Sam some things. He didn’t have to go off to college for that.

Does Stanford have a Hillel? Dean’s never looked. Never really thought of any of that as an option. There’s the motels and the car and the road and the monsters, and they need his attention more than, like, his soul. Did Sam join a minyan? Dean knows the words, some of them, even if he hasn’t done anything about it in ages. No bar mitzvah, no rabbi, no faith but in the bullets. Click the trigger, pull off the slide. Remove the slide and the barrel and set it all down hollow.

“So what day’s it today?” Dean asks, careful, starting to clean the pieces now. Still not looking at him. “How many left?”

Sam’s quiet for a moment. “Yesterday was twenty-four,” he says eventually, and something about the phrasing is somehow precise, like he knows how it’s supposed to be said, like he’s skirting the edges of something forbidden, something Dean would’ve walked right into because he doesn’t know--

“Yeah?” Something’s chewing on Dean’s insides, he thinks. Something guilty and grieving and helpless. It isn’t fair that Sam should have had to learn all this secondhand. It isn’t fair that he knows more than Dean does about all this. “So, like, a week until I can shave your head?”

“Ha,” says Sam drily, and he throws a pillow at Dean. “Don’t even think about it.”

[thisisableism]

I need more blogs to follow since most of the people I follow are inactive. If people could rec some good disability/ableism/chronic illness blogs that would be appreciated.

[oakstairs]

mineblr sees the word "enderman" and blacks out and the next thing anyone knows, the post has been reblogged. must have been herobrine

[sporadic-narancia]

@purplecraze oh wouldnt you like to know 🧡

[donut-rat]

I’m drowning.

I see the skyline, the endless sea

And then I’m under again, the darkness beckons me

I am holding my breath

I feel the cold air again and grasp for its salvation

But the ocean tricked me

The air I look for turns into a salty brine

It kisses my throat

But she isn’t gentle.

Her bare knuckles pressed against my windpipe

I cough

I sputter

But no one hears

Her waves crashing against the boulders on the shore are louder than my will to fight

I cannot call for help

There is water in my lungs

[im-stuck-in-traffic]

Double Life will probably be shorter by far than either of the two seasons of the Life series.

In 3rd Life, there were 14 players with 3 lives each, giving a total of 14 * 3 = 42 lives at the start of the season. There were 8 sessions, giving an average of 42 / 8 = 5.25 lives lost per session.

In Last Life, there were 17 players. 5 players started with 2 lives, 3 with 3 lives, 5 with 4 lives, 1 with 5 lives, and 3 with 6 lives, giving a total of 5 * 2 + 3 * 3 + 5 * 4 + 1 * 5 + 3 * 6 = 62 lives at the start of the season. There were 9 sessions, giving an average of 62 / 9 = 6.888... lives lost per session.

In Double Life, there are once again 14 players with 3 lives each...but not really. For the purposes of life counting, each pair of players counts as a single player, giving a total of 14 / 2 * 3 = 21 lives at the start of the season.

In past seasons, the early sessions had relatively few deaths, with most of the deaths occurring in the middle and end of the season. Double Life will probably be no different. However, unless the players are very careful, I figure we’ll be lucky to make it past 5 sessions this season.