radioriseblogs

[radioriseblogs]

luigi mangione, the SUSPECTED (innocent until proven guilty) united healthcare shooter, has been charged with terrorism. that’s right. a man who supposedly shot ONE SINGLE PERSON is being charged with terrorism. because in america, billionaires lives matter enough that a SINGLE rich man’s death is considered a terrorist act against this country. think about that.

[radioriseblogs]

dear newly out trans guy in a friend group of only women. if they continuously make ‘jokes’ about men being disgusting or you being a ‘gender traitor’ who needs to ‘make up’ for being yourself. GET OUT OF THERE GO RUN. i promise there are tboy friend groups out there for you that will be infinitely more loving and encouraging than that sort of environment. you deserve better.

[radioriseblogs]

my army grows day by day.

[radioriseblogs]

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[radioriseblogs]

dragon music

[radioriseblogs]

Hi. Pretty much all my fanfiction and some of my fanart has been uploaded to Ai.

I'm typing with a lot of anger and hurt right now so pardon me if don''t make sense. I've been told of people seeing excerpts of my written work showing up in character chat bots before, specfically with my IZ work and Solar Lunacy, and more recently The Rehabilitation of Death (TROD) and I'm so tired.

I've put these images together very hastily and I didn't have the heart to add much more. I've blocked out the names for the sake of privacy for the creators of these, but allow me to be explicitly clear:

Do not upload my artwork or fan fiction to AI, including c.ai.

I DO NOT consent for my work to be uploaded to any AI databases, chat bots, artificial character chat rooms or similar.

Not only are you morally fucking over authors and artists, but you can put us into severe legal trouble as well. This is not negotiable. I will never be able to undo the damage this has done, even if these chat bots go down, my writing and the artwork is now uploaded to the database.

This has made me reconsider sharing my writing online more than any online discourse would have ever done. If you do this, please consider what damage and disrespect you are doing to us, and please block me if you're fine with it.

[radioriseblogs]

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

[radioriseblogs]

Im Appalachian and the "cousin fucker" jokes are ones I see all the time and have to just. Live with it. In some parts of the region, it's not too uncommon for someone to realize they're closer related to their significant other than they had thought (hasn't happened in my family, but I knew quite a few folks who dated their 2nd or 3rd cousin by accident). It's not their fault, the population is sparse, the geography/socioeconomic situation makes it hard for folks to move around, and records haven't been kept the best over the years

I joke about WC incest because it's a product of the Erins not keeping track of the family tree. But when folks start getting nasty about the results of inbreeding. Well. There's a lot of good people in my area who can't help the circumstances of their birth or that of their ancestors

That's all I'll say. This isn't to speak over the Incestuous Abuse aspect, but maybe in addition to?

Mentally I am beaming you 10,000 dollars and also my favorite butternut squash soup recipe.

Like, when I do my family tree fixes, this IS what I'm getting at. My goal in doing my overhauls is to define (and therefore avoid pairing) what the cats in the story should be seeing as immediate family.

In the modern day and in most western cultures, 1st cousin pairings are considered "immediate family" so I avoid them. I think it's for a good reason too, even taking shifting cultural considerations into account. Your 1st cousin is your auncle's kid and is equally your grandparent's grandchild.; it's uncommon to not know anything about them.

Depending on the region, local culture, socioeconomic status, geography, 2nd cousins and beyond is distant enough to be conditional. It's not like real life comes with a FlightRising-esque scrying workshop. Hell, I don't even know the names of all of my grandparents' siblings.

When you're talking about incestuous abuse, it's not about GENETICS, it's about IMMEDIATE FAMILY. If a child is assaulted by their step-sibling of no blood relation, that's still incestuous abuse. What makes it so harmful and dangerous is that they're supposed to be the people you trust the most, with social leverage over your shared family.

That's fancy talk for the fact that this makes an unbalanced power dynamic. Even if we're not talking about parental abuse (which is even worse and harder to escape or stop for obvious reasons), you cannot distance yourself from your abuser without exiling them, or yourself, from the family. It comes with guilt and shame, because these are people who are supposed to keep you safe. Victims might even GET blamed by their relatives, told it's their fault that the family fell apart, or that it was bad that their abuser faced consequences when they "should have kept quiet."

And... I can't lie. It makes my blood fucking BOIL that people try to put THAT on the same level as "two people didn't know they were distant cousins."

Do they ACTUALLY care or have any sympathy at all for the absolute psychological TORTURE that it is to be a victim of incestuous abuse? Or is this just a very emotionally charged topic they can leverage to win an internet argument? More and more, I feel like it's just an excuse to express how much they're disgusted by disabled bodies under the guise of a "joke."

Anyway. Digressing.

It's relevant and you're not speaking over anyone. The Moonpaw discourse has been absolutely nothing but fucked up.

The actual horrors of incestuous abuse is downplayed

Negative impacts of distant relative "inbreeding" is exaggerated; especially against appalachians. 100,000 comedians are breaking out The One Joke they have about cousinfucking banjos

Ableists are given an open avenue to mock disabled people

Misinformation about Chimerism is spread to make the situation sound worse than it actually is, sometimes with a decent helping of intersexism

Nothing of value was accomplished. Great work, Warrior Cats Fandom, we could not even handle the rollout of the 1st tortie protagonist without a four ring circus. It's the All Clowns Extravaganza.

[radioriseblogs]

dragon music

[radioriseblogs]

dragon music

[radioriseblogs]

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

[radioriseblogs]

Hi. Pretty much all my fanfiction and some of my fanart has been uploaded to Ai.

I'm typing with a lot of anger and hurt right now so pardon me if don''t make sense. I've been told of people seeing excerpts of my written work showing up in character chat bots before, specfically with my IZ work and Solar Lunacy, and more recently The Rehabilitation of Death (TROD) and I'm so tired.

I've put these images together very hastily and I didn't have the heart to add much more. I've blocked out the names for the sake of privacy for the creators of these, but allow me to be explicitly clear:

Do not upload my artwork or fan fiction to AI, including c.ai.

I DO NOT consent for my work to be uploaded to any AI databases, chat bots, artificial character chat rooms or similar.

Not only are you morally fucking over authors and artists, but you can put us into severe legal trouble as well. This is not negotiable. I will never be able to undo the damage this has done, even if these chat bots go down, my writing and the artwork is now uploaded to the database.

This has made me reconsider sharing my writing online more than any online discourse would have ever done. If you do this, please consider what damage and disrespect you are doing to us, and please block me if you're fine with it.

[radioriseblogs]

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

[radioriseblogs]

Hi. Pretty much all my fanfiction and some of my fanart has been uploaded to Ai.

I'm typing with a lot of anger and hurt right now so pardon me if don''t make sense. I've been told of people seeing excerpts of my written work showing up in character chat bots before, specfically with my IZ work and Solar Lunacy, and more recently The Rehabilitation of Death (TROD) and I'm so tired.

I've put these images together very hastily and I didn't have the heart to add much more. I've blocked out the names for the sake of privacy for the creators of these, but allow me to be explicitly clear:

Do not upload my artwork or fan fiction to AI, including c.ai.

I DO NOT consent for my work to be uploaded to any AI databases, chat bots, artificial character chat rooms or similar.

Not only are you morally fucking over authors and artists, but you can put us into severe legal trouble as well. This is not negotiable. I will never be able to undo the damage this has done, even if these chat bots go down, my writing and the artwork is now uploaded to the database.

This has made me reconsider sharing my writing online more than any online discourse would have ever done. If you do this, please consider what damage and disrespect you are doing to us, and please block me if you're fine with it.

[radioriseblogs]

Hi. Pretty much all my fanfiction and some of my fanart has been uploaded to Ai.

I'm typing with a lot of anger and hurt right now so pardon me if don''t make sense. I've been told of people seeing excerpts of my written work showing up in character chat bots before, specfically with my IZ work and Solar Lunacy, and more recently The Rehabilitation of Death (TROD) and I'm so tired.

I've put these images together very hastily and I didn't have the heart to add much more. I've blocked out the names for the sake of privacy for the creators of these, but allow me to be explicitly clear:

Do not upload my artwork or fan fiction to AI, including c.ai.

I DO NOT consent for my work to be uploaded to any AI databases, chat bots, artificial character chat rooms or similar.

Not only are you morally fucking over authors and artists, but you can put us into severe legal trouble as well. This is not negotiable. I will never be able to undo the damage this has done, even if these chat bots go down, my writing and the artwork is now uploaded to the database.

This has made me reconsider sharing my writing online more than any online discourse would have ever done. If you do this, please consider what damage and disrespect you are doing to us, and please block me if you're fine with it.

[radioriseblogs]

I lent my mom a book before I read it and apparently right at the beginning they tell a true story about all our chestnut trees dying and it made my mother SO DEPRESSED that she couldn't sleep and now she's been researching chestnut trees for the past half hour looking sick

[radioriseblogs]

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy