It fits right there next to my:

It fits right there next to my:

(yes I wrote a whole-ass poem for this, you're welcome)
(no, don't imagine Night City from Cyberpunk, that's gross. Imagine Academia from FF13-2.)
in my daydreams, I want to live
in a busy, busy city, five hundred stories up
watching the traffic from my window
darting between the buildings
above and below the plaza level
where kids run and shopping gets done
in a calm and overcast warm day
the holograms splashed over the buildings
with every vibrant color, no advertisements
but art and music and wonder and beauty
and along through all this bustle
with the a-note of the flying vehicles
gliding by peacefully amongst this grandeur
i am at my window, taking it all in
looking up from my book, pen down
from my wooden chair i rise
my room as bright as outside
and my whole residence is perched
on the loft of a tea shop
greenery in every corner
and the customers come in
stressed out, in the fashions of the day
chasing that trend they can never really find
and they drink good tea, real tea, in this sincere place
with plants and flowers in every nook and cranny
the trick to this wondrous magic
is that the tea is always grown by hand
with real sunlight and real soil
by real hands doing real work
and none of it is replicated and created
and before the customers whoosh off
heading to their next meeting or their next job
they take an hour with me, and they sip
forgetting that they’re a half-mile up
and they walked on a holo-bridge to get here
for maybe just a moment i bring them peace
perhaps this is the only part of their life
done in the style of the old ways
and it’s good hard work
being a tea witch in the present day
Those are fighting words. Like, mount-the-conference-table-with-shoes-on-and-kick-that-manager-in-the-chin-with-skull-crushing-followthrough kinds of fighting words.
Edmund, buddy, it isn’t like that. Being pro-genocide isn’t on the same scale as being anti-genocide. They want to see blood spilled.
You might be right. If I was his daughter, I would disown him too.
This but unironically.
Jesus fuck, rich people are illiterate. Fucking learn to format a goddamn email and learn basic grammar before we behead you (we will anyway).
Guillotines.
I’m not surprised, just disappointed.
My parents once taught me how to use a payphone when I was a kid. I’m 40.
Your post is exactly correct.