Devin Younge

@piratechnics.bsky.social

486 Followers 168 Following

Voice Actor, writer of things, reader of books, and player of games! He/Him 🌎 https://devinyounge.com 📷 https://www.instagram.com/piratechnics

Silus climbed the last few rungs and emerged into the surface chamber. The intense morning light, filtered even as it was through specially-made polarized windows, still took almost a minute of blinking and wincing to get used to. It was already warm in the chamber, Silus noted; a good sign for the harvest. Donning a pair of protective sunglasses, he stepped out and began his rounds. A light breeze blew in from the northeast, cooling the sweat on his brow. Grunting, Silus stood up and surveyed the field: rows upon rows of sleek black panels, all finely tuned to the sun’s position for the day. One more check of his calculations, and he’d head back underground, and all its domestic comforts. Still, he lingered for a moment to take it all in. Past the panels fields of green and yellow stretch into the horizon; rolling hills giving way to patches of scrub, hardy just like the land. “Yes,” Silus inhaled deeply, “There is beauty up here too.”
Woke up to the news that we’re at war again today, Buttons pushed, bombs were dropped, the army’s on the way, Just one more atrocity, ‘cause Donny got his way, I should go and protest, but I’ve got rent to pay. Masked thugs on our streets, kidnapping neighbors every day Killing people brave enough to dare get in their way, I can’t keep up, I’m terrified, and come whatever may, I can’t go out and protest, I’ve got the rent to pay. The public’s money drained, ‘it’s cutting waste’ they say, Never mind their private jets, or island getaway, They’re stealing from us, one and all, and we don’t have a say, But I’ve got to keep working, for I have rent to pay. Congress sees this all, and does nothing but delay, Then turn around with hands outstretched, and in chorus say: “We can stop this next time, if you’ll just chip in today?” Like I’d give them money, I’ve got my rent to pay. So where does this leave us? Are we splintered, led astray? Every rule is broken, the lawbook’s thrown away, When all of this is over, there will be hell to pay, I should go out and protest, but I’ve got rent to pay.
Photo of a black cat wearing a novelty cape and cowl in the shape of a decorated christmas tree, sitting in a comfortable-looking raffia bowl on a cat tree, with an actual christmas tree in the background. The cat looks mildy displeased, and is staring directly at the camera.
Icon of a broken crown, with the words 'No Kings, Nazis, Billionaires' underneath
I go to face the morning, I go to face the day I go to face all obstacles that shall get in my way But all of these I’ll conquer, I shall not bend nor break For even if this day’s my last, the most of it I’ll make It matters not to me if our world spins too slow or fast I’ll live here in the present, while learning from the past And looking towards the future, I’ll shape it best I can For all of us, our gifts to give, to help our fellow man Some days will be a drama, others a comedy, We do our best to navigate the waters that we see What lies ahead, but who can tell? No need to speculate Keep counsel if you must, but do not fall into debate Our lives a grand stage opera, from cradle to the crypt To each of us, our part to play, though we don’t know the script So Improvise, improvise, fake if you must! The show, it must go on Do your best, and worry not, someday your truth will dawn I go to face the morning, I go to face the day I go to face all obstacles that shall get in my way But all of these I’ll conquer, I shall not bend nor break For even if this day’s my last, the most of it I’ll make
With obfuscating language, smoke, mirrors, and a pen, They write the laws to bind us in their fascist spider’s den They scare the poor and gullible, and he who should be our friend They put a gun into his hand, and instead make him our end And when he comes to shoot us, he’s disposed of, thrown away, Or worse if they can spin it, make him a hero of the day, They point to our righteous anger, and demands for justice be done, And scam more from those same poor fools, their daughters and their sons, They come for every letter in LGBTQIA+ Slowly at first, then faster, ‘till they come for all of us They murder our brothers and sisters, for having different skin They shield the badge that did the deed, and close blue ranks again They took away our right to vote, and called it ‘security’ They stripped us of the right to choose our body’s autonomy Then they quickly put up fences, flanked by guards and cops with guns To hold back we, the people, from protesting what they’ve done How long must this continue, and to where does this path lead What flower will bloom in the end from this most hateful seed?
Merry and Pippin looking expectant and impatient, waiting for Treebeard's response
Promo for cover art of The Spellshop, an overgrown fantasy cottage in a forest
Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib, hoding a sign reading 'Guilty of Genocide' as she looks on with disapproval to Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu's speech.
Devin Younge, Writer Portfolio Page
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