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moneysaving tips: uninstall apple pay or your tapping app or whatever, put a $20 for emergencies in your wallet, leave your cards at home in a safe place when you are going anywhere but to the grocery store or a preplanned excursion that costs money. don't take them to work. don't take them when you're walking your dog because you go past a dog-friendly bakery. having a card and a tap to pay makes the little treats feel like they don't cost any money. they do. try to finish the week without using the $20 and then go get yourself a big burrito to celebrate the fact that you didn't waste $50 on little treats

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Fabio Viale, marble sculpture.

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you have no idea how much it pains me that I can't watch goncharov. I want to watch this movie so bad it makes me look stupid.

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It’s that time of year. Reblog with how many you’ve heard of.

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a cursed realization: wade and logan are old men. logan especially so.

they MUST have weird old man habits and general body weirdness. and not the endearing shit like preferring to use old school tech, or having a "get off my lawn, my favourite miscreants" kinda attitude, or being unable to keep up in sex, or any of that kinda cute stuff

i mean the unpleasant sweaty old man smell, having walking farts, snoring while awake, their stomachs just making noises for no goddamn reason bc their digestive system is no longer 30 y/o

all of which they don't even realize they're doing bc they're old and either a) have more pressing things to worry about [at their age]; b) stopped giving a fuck; or c) both of the above

source: i live with two very old men (my dad and uncle). one is a few years away from retirement and the other is already at that age. they are family but they are still gross old men who act like drunk uncles given half the chance

and while neither logan or wade are in their 60s, these habits don't just magically appear once you hit that age. they begin long before that and accumulate over time until the stinky old man package is complete

"but jercy," you say, "they have perfect regeneration!! they can't have any health problems!! they're too self conscious to be that gross!!"

1: (re: perfect regeneration) that is an even worse argument for wade, who has mega cancer and canonically does not smell pleasant or have a properly functioning body. he'd 100% have old man problems as a symptom of his cancer bc his mutation is physically keeping him in a constant state of dying. everything he does is out of sheer stubbornness and willpower to make a joke out of his life

to play on a popular headcanon: any aromatic, artificial fruity skincare routine he has can easily be used as a reason for him to cover up his old man smell

2: see point B above for logan

2b: see the movie, logan (2017), or the comic, death of wolverine (2014), for the fact that logan can canonically age/die. albeit it's at a vastly slower pace than everyone else, but it means logan WILL eventually have these issues with his body too, if he doesn't have them already

2c: feral/animalistic logan who takes on animal traits would be so much worse bc wolverines are called "skunk bears" for a reason. wolverines (and any wildlife/animal that you can compare logan to) fucking STINK!! they have EVEN GROSSER ANIMAL HABITS!! you just gotta accept it

3: (re: self-consciousness) you got a point there, but once again refer to point B. most folks i know at their age are on their way to or have already stopped caring about what others think of them. and even if wade and logan are somehow the exceptions to this, i'm sure they let loose in private and probably indulge in their grosser habits when they're alone

4: if you want biblically accurate old man yaoi you're gonna have to contend with the fact that it comes with the non-sexy old man problems. i'm sorry i have to break the illusion but this is the reality we must face together

5: suspension of disbelief, friends. do engage with that once in a while lol

in conclusion: i unfortunately have every bit of confidence that wade and logan are not exempt to old man behaviours and bodily functions and i will die whining about it. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

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There was this park near where I grew up. I remember we’d just moved to the area so I was around six and we drove past and saw this waterfront area. My parents decided to check it out so we went for a walk. It was a lovely park, there’s a lazy slough, lots of trees, extremely picturesque. My parents ambled along the trail enjoying the nature while my siblings and I ranged around in their orbit like excitable moons.

Then I saw something odd. Something vibrantly alive down by the water that was entirely the wrong color. I called back my vital scouting info and my family gathered around me. We looked down the steep verge toward the slough, screened by underbrush. We couldn’t quite make out what it was. The only thing we could agree was that it certainly wasn’t a duck. However it was about duck sized and roughly duck shaped. It just wasn’t a duck.

This led to some heated debate amongst my siblings and I but we were forbidden to scramble down the muddy hill to harass the mystery animal. Reluctantly we continued down the trail, speculating wildly when a chicken popped out of a bush in front of us with a train of several chicks.

We froze. The chicken did not. She placidly herded her little puffs across the trail, pecking happily for seeds, unbothered by our proximity. My family had not yet delved into farming and this was the first time any of us kids had seen a chicken up close. It was like a fairytale thing, a creature we had seen over and over in books was suddenly here in the wilderness of the park. We all realized the mystery creature had likewise been a chicken.

Another couple came up the trail and saw us staring.

“Is this your first time at the park?” They asked?

We nodded.

They informed us that this park had become a dumping ground for unwanted chickens. Once the chickens were dumped they were park property and the locals didn’t mind the eccentric additions at all. No one looked after the chickens, but they got on surprisingly well.

As the years went by we visited the park regularly. Signs were added to warn people not to dump off chickens or they’d be fined. They were also excluded from snatching the existing chickens. The hope was that the chickens would eventually run their course and the park would go back to normal.

It did not.

Instead the menagerie grew. Peacocks cropped up occasionally, turkeys; and one visit we saw guinea fowl. But there were always chickens. Eventually feed dispenser were installed so park goers could pay a quarter to enjoy the motley flocks.

Because we’d moved into a house with land my mom started up a chicken coop and we got our very own chickens at the feed store like proper folks. The first rooster we had was a gentleman, politely clucking at us when came into the coop, but the second proved troublesome a year later. He either adored or hated me. Every time I entered the coop he’d dance and flounce and brandish his spurs.

My mom didn’t want to off him frankly she didn’t know how at that point but his fascination ended with him flying at me and the rooster was sentenced to banishment.

We drove to the park.

We saw him there for years afterward, clucking dutifully around a small flock of hens. He did pretty well in exile.

Anyone who’s kept chickens knows that eventually there’s always a tragedy. Ours happened when a neighbors dog broke into our coop and slaughtered the flock. I was absolutely distraught, my lovingly hand reared chicks all decimated in a flurry of senseless bloodlust. I have not loved a chicken since. They are too fragile to bear it.

After a few days of mourning my mom offered that she knew where to find some more chickens. To make up for the massacre she planned a night raid with us. We stayed up past our bedtime and drove to the park with tarp covered kennels in the back of the truck.

We crept down along the gravel parking lot, looking up into the trees, spotting the telltale lumps of shadows that meant chickens. We quickly developed a strategy. We picked a chicken branch, creeping close underneath. Then we reached the end of the branch and gave it a good shake until the roosting chicken glided down to the ground in confusion. It was easy to scoop them up and we went home the proud new owner of a handsome flock of chickens.

The Take a Chicken Leave a Chicken park is still a beloved feature of its neighborhood to this day.

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Veiltober - day 13, Bellara

Bellara day guys!!! Remember when we thought her name was Bellara Lutara? Fun times. Excited to see her story and romance.. I have no idea what it might be like. Much mystery!

Ty to @lynnerdo for the prompts !!

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Readers, make sure you have all your favourite Ao3 fics downloaded.

Writers, make sure you have copies of all the fics you have posted on Ao3.

I don’t want to be alarming, but things could get really bad really fast. OTW shared this today on Twitter, and I'm a bit worried about it 😅

Ao3 is a non-profit organisation. If they have to start paying taxes, I have no idea what will happen.

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1920s Aqua Velvet

José Storie (1899-1961) • Portrait of a Lady with a Green Dress • 1934.

1920s and 1930s dress styles

Vittorio Matteo Corcos (Italian, 1859-1933) • Ritratto di donna (Portrait of a Woman) • c. 1925

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I'm being completely serious when I say Granny Weatherwax's "What about the fire?" speech from Lords and Ladies has done more to help me recontextualize and manage my anxiety than like 5 years of therapy did

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The 2025 Vanity Fair Hollywood Portfolio＠VANITY FAIR - Hollywood 2024/2025.

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No no no, not a modern au, a modernist au. Your favourite characters are hanging around Tammany Hall, getting coked up in Weimar Berlin, and dying as martyrs for socialism on the front lines of the Spanish Civil War. They write stream of consciousness novels, direct avant garde cinema, and debate the merits of social criticism as a mode of revolutionary thought. Progress is celebrated, industry is glorified, and art is politicized. History becomes the titanic struggle between nations, races, or classes. Everywhere they go, everyone knows that a war of apocalyptic magnitude is coming but no one is willing to admit it. Worse still, the most prescient among them know that the conflagration on the horizon isn’t truly going to be the end. War will come and war will go, but the ideas and behaviours that make it inevitable will remain etched in the hearts of men who’ve killed the divine and constructed themselves as its replacement. They warn and no one will listen. The band will strike a jaunty tune and your faves will dance and drink and die. The coffee shops and florists and offices will become symbols of an ideology that strains under its own imperial ambitions until it breaks against the shore of history. In the modernist au, framing alone damns your blorbos to either be Kassandra or Agamemnon. Whether knowing or ignorant, the spectre of death looms over them regardless. You cannot write a happy ending to the modernist au because everyone already knows where modernism ends.

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giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

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I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

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How do they keep making later and later stages of late-capitalism