#I'd let him scam me

[ryssbelle]

trying to be more active starting by tryna post all the stuff I've been neglecting to ;w; Heres a doodle I did for @sparkspsps of @heroesspirit Ravio!! I've done a lot of heroes spirit art so expect to see a lot of it, its a very good comic so yall better get your eyes on it and your hands reblogging!!

[solacestarz]

TO THE PEOPLE WHO DRAW SEBASTIAN WITH FACIAL HAIR

GIVE ME YOUR ART

LET ME EAT IT AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSS

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Hey! Can you do a Kylian imagine with a heavily pregnant reader who is having a hard time with her pregnancy. Just lots of fluff & supportive Kylian please

Baby Blues

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Your husband loves taking care of you, especially now that you're pregnant

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Husband!Kylian Mbappé x Wife!you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.5k

Warnings! Fluff, soft Kylian, tough pregnancy, eating problems, insecurities, sad reader, Kylian being the best husband ever.

Pregnancy was a scam.

A total scam. There were so many things that were a surprise to you once you actually were pregnant, but one of the biggest surprises to me was just how hard it was on your body. It wasn't like you didn't think it would be hard. But this was hell.

Kylian and you had been trying for a year, and when you finally got the positive pregnancy test, you thought everything would be okay. You thought it would be a normal pregnancy and then you'd be able to hold your little baby in your arms.

But it was just too hard.

The morning sickness had been terrible. It didn't just stay in the mornings, and you'd been puking so much that you'd lost weight instead of gaining it. Something which which had your doctors and Kylian worried.

It'd gotten to the point where you couldn't even eat any more. The smell of food would make you sick. It made you sick just to think about it. You'd tried to hide it from Kylian at first. You didn't want to worry him, and you knew he was already worrying.

He'd always worried about you. He'd worried about you since the moment he met you, and he was going to continue to worry about you for the rest of his life.

It was sweet. It really was.

But sometimes, you just wished he'd stop worrying. Worrying so much was making him tired, and you knew he was going to be a father soon. He needed to get some sleep. So did you. You sighed and sat up in bed, looking around the dark room. The sun had barely risen. You could hear Kylian's snores coming from the other side of the bed. It made you smile.

You threw off the covers and stood up, heading to the bathroom. You weren't sure what time it was, but you were hoping it was close to breakfast time. Your stomach growled at the thought of food. You hoped that you could keep something down today.

Maybe some toast.

You opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, flipping on the light. The bathroom was large, and the shower was huge. There were multiple heads, so you could be pummeled with water from all angles. It was heavenly, sometimes being to keep your morning sickness at bay. The pressure feeling so good on your skin.

You flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. The girl looking back at you looked terrible. She was pale and thin and tired. You could the insecurities licking up your spine. How could he still love you when you looked like this.

You sighed and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water flow down your body. You moaned at the pressure of the jets your skin, and your eyes closed. You tried to ignore the thoughts racing through your head, but you just couldn't.

Why was he still with you? You were nothing like the girl he met. You were thin and tired and just plain ugly.

You tried to shake the thoughts away as you washed yourself off. When you were done, you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. You brushed your teeth, making sure your breath smelled good and not like puke.

When you were done, you left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. You pulled out a pair of shorts and Kylian's sweatshirt. You slipped them on and walked back to the kitchen.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was set up in the kitchen. There were flowers all over the table, and breakfast was made. Kylian was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up when he saw you.

When did he wake up? Why hadn't you heard him? And why did he look better than you did.

"Hey," he smiled at you. "I thought I'd make you breakfast. I didn't know what you were craving, so I made pancakes and eggs." He stood up and pulled out a chair for you. "I hope it's okay."

tears welled up in your waterline at his gesture. Fuck thses hormones. But you couldn't help it. Not when he was such a good husband, so good to you. He deserved better. He deserved the girl he fell in love with.

"It's perfect," your voice was shaky, so you masked it with a smile. "Thank you, babe."

He walked over to you, pulling you into a hug, his warmth melting you. "I'm glad you like it," he kissed the top of your head. "I missed you so much yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't here for dinner." He pulled back and studied your face. "Are you okay? You were in the bathroom pretty long. Got me worried, pretty girl." Pretty girl. Yeah right. More like fat whale. You wanted to cry.

You nodded, letting him pull you down into a chair. "I'm good," you lied, forcing a smile. "I was just so tired last night. I didn't want to wake you up."

He nodded and kissed the top of your head again. He went back to the kitchen and brought you a plate of pancakes and eggs, along with a cup of tea. You smiled up at him and dug in. It was good. Really good.

He was a good cook. But you didn't want to eat much. You were terrified of getting sick in front of him. He'd been so stressed lately, and you didn't want him to worry more about you.

You took a few bites and then put the fork down, pushing your plate away. "Thank you," you said. "It was really good."

His eyes narrowed, studying your face. You knew you were lying. But you were good at it. Or at least, you thought you were.

He leaned over and grabbed your hands into his. He made sure he was eye level with you, his eyes searching yours. You met them and held his gaze. "Tell me the truth," he said.

"I don't want to eat," you said, your voice low. You hated lying to him. You always felt terrible after doing it. But he didn't need to know about how bad it was. He was stressed enough.

His face softened, and his hands squeezed yours. "Pretty girl, why won't you tell me?" His voice was soft and sweet. He really was such a good husband.

You shrugged your shoulders. You couldn't look at him. If you did, you knew you'd cry. "I just don't want to eat," you mumbled.

He sighed and leaned forward, grabbing your face into his hands. He made sure you looked at him before speaking. "You are my wife," he said, voice low and husky. "My wife, the mother of my child, and my best friend. I love you, and I'm so proud of you. But I can't be there for you if you don't tell me the truth. I need to know what's going on with you. I need to take care of you."

You wanted to cry at his words, at his softness. How could he love you so much when you were such a mess?

"I don't want to worry you," you said, your voice breaking. "You're already so stressed."

His eyes softened, and he pulled you into his arms. You went willingly, letting his warmth melt you. His arms were your happy place, and you knew you'd always be safe with him. He kissed the top of your head and held you close, stroking your hair. You breathed in his scent. It made you feel at peace.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice low. "I love you so much. You don't have to worry about me. I need to take care of you."

You sighed and nodded against him. "I'm sorry," you said. "I just can't eat right now. The smell of food makes me sick. I haven't eaten in days."

He held you closer, his arms tightening around you. He kissed the top of your head again and sighed. "I'm going to call a doctor," he said. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

You nodded against him and smiled. "Okay."

He pulled away and stood up, helping you stand. "Let's go back to bed," he said. "I'll call the doctor from there."

You nodded, letting him lead you back to the bedroom. You climbed into bed and watched him pick up the phone. He dialed a number and pressed send, holding the phone to his ear. You could hear the ringing of the other line.

He looked at you as he talked, his eyes soft. You could see the worry in them, but it only made you love him more. He was always so worried about you. You wanted to make it better, to make him not worry.

He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. He sat next to you and took your hand into his. "I called the doctor," he said. "He said to bring you in to see him. I'm going to call his office now and tomorrow we're going, okay?."

You nodded and squeezed his hand. "I love you," you said, your voice low. He squeezed your hand back and leaned forward to kiss your lips. His lips were warm and gentle against yours. You sighed into his mouth and let him take control.

He kissed you deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned as he pulled away. You wanted more. But he just smiled and stood up, his phone in hand.

"I love you," he said. "I'll be right back."

You nodded and snuggled under the covers, closing your eyes. You knew you weren't going to fall asleep. Not with all the thoughts swirling through your head. You sighed and turned over, trying to clear your mind. You couldn't. Not when you kept thinking about how he'd said he was so proud of you.

It made you want to cry. He loved you. He truly, truly loved you. He was proud of you. You felt like you were anything but strong. But he still loved you. He still thought you were strong. That made you smile.

You sighed and rolled over, closing your eyes. You let your thoughts run away with you as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to Kylian shaking your shoulder. He had a smile on his face and looked so happy. You smiled up at him and sat up (with great difficulty), rubbing your eyes. "hi, beautiful," he said. "Get up the masseuse will be here soon."

You blinked up at him. What was he talking about? Who was the masseuse? He chuckled and ran a hand through your hair. "I thought it would be nice to have a spa day at home," he said. "I got you some scented oils and candles, and I hired a massage therapist. I thought it would help you relax." He smiled at you, his eyes soft. "Plus, I thought it would be nice to spend the day together. We can talk more about everything that's going on."

You wanted to cry at his words, at his sweetness. He was such a good husband, and you loved him so much. He always wanted to take care of you, and he wanted to be there for you.

"Okay," you whispered, voice raspy with sleep. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. His eyes softened, and he kissed your lips. "Come on, babe," he said. "Let's get ready."

He stood and pulled you up with him. You wobbled on your feet, and he chuckled, his hands going to your hips. "Easy," he said. "I've got you." He held you close until you could stand on your own. Then, he let you go, only to grab your hand again. He led you out of the room, to the living room. You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was set up.

He had candles lit all around the room, and the scents of lavender filled your nose. There were towels and oils set up on a table, and the windows were open so there was a nice breeze. It was warm but not too hot.

"This is amazing," you said, smiling at him. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "I wanted it to be perfect for you." He ran his hand down your back. "Now sit here and don't move." He instructed, as he helped you sit on the couch. A task that was now getting more and more difficult for you as your pregnancy moved along.

You nodded and sat down, watching him leave. You could hear him talking to someone on the phone, Then a few minutes later you heard the front door open.

"Hey," you heard him say. "Thanks for coming. She's on the couch. You can go ahead and set up."

You heard the front door shut, and then footsteps coming closer. You turned your head to see a woman coming towards you with him. She was gorgeous, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black top with what you guesse was her spa logo and black pants.

You hated the way your mind immediately went to wondering how you measured up to her. You felt like a fat whale, and she looked perfect. Kylian wouldn't be attracted to her, would he?

You sighed and forced your mind away from those thoughts. They were not healthy.

"Hey," Kylian said, walking over to you. "This is Ashley. She's the massage therapist I was telling you about."

You mustered a smile and smiled at her , trying to push aside your insecurities. Ashley returned the smile warmly, introducing herself and offering a handshake. Despite your initial self-doubt, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in her eyes.

It made you feel horrible for the negative thoughts you had about her. You felt like a horrible person.

Ashley began setting up her equipment, chatting lightly with Kylian. You felt a pang at the smile he gave her. You knew you were being ridiculous. Kylian smiled at everyone. But in that moment you couldn't help but wonder if he wished he had a woman who was more like her.

"Y/N, baby are you okay? You spaced out." You blinked, bringing yourself back to the present. Kylian's voice was filled with concern, his eyes searching your face. You nodded quickly, trying to shake off the lingering doubts. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit tired," you mumbled, offering a small smile.

He returned your smile, though the worry in his eyes didn't dissipate. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. "Just relax, pretty girl. Ashley is here to help you feel better."

You took a deep breath and nodded again. Ashley finished setting up and approached you with a kind smile. "We're going to start with a gentle massage, okay? If anything feels uncomfortable, just let me know."

You appreciated her calm demeanor and found yourself relaxing slightly. You lay down on the soft towels she had prepared, and Ashley began her work. The scents of lavender and chamomile filled the air, mingling with the gentle pressure of her hands on your aching muscles.

For the first time in a while, you felt a semblance of peace. Kylian sat nearby, watching over you with a protective gaze. You loved this side of him. Loved when he watched over you like he would do anything to keep you safe. He would.

You knew a long time ago you had picked the right man to be the father of your children. But everyday he makes you a little prouder of that decision. You couldn't wait to meet your baby. To watch him interact with her.

You had already gotten glipmses of their bond. How she would kick at the sound of his voice. How he would talk to your belly, whispering sweet promises and silly jokes. You knew he would be an amazing father, just as he was an incredible husband.

As Ashley continued the massage, you felt some of the tension in your body ease away. The soothing touch and the warm oils worked their magic, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be. To exist in the present, without the weight of worries and fears pressing down on you.

Kylian sat close, every now and then, he would reach out to gently stroke your hair or squeeze your hand, silently reassuring you that he was there, that he had you.

"You're doing great, Y/N," Ashley said softly, her voice blending seamlessly with the calming ambiance of the room. "Just breathe and let yourself relax."

You followed her instructions, taking slow, deep breaths. With each exhale, you felt more of the stress melt away. The soft music playing in the background, the fragrant candles, and the tender care of both Kylian and Ashley created a bubble of tranquility that you hadn't felt in a long time.

Time seemed to slow down as the massage continued. You could almost forget the relentless nausea, the fatigue. You could even feel yourself getting a little hungry.

When the massage finally ended, you felt a profound sense of relief. Ashley helped you sit up slowly, her hands gentle and supportive. "How do you feel?" she asked with a warm smile.

"Better," you admitted, surprised at how true the word felt. "Thank you, Ashley. This was exactly what I needed."

"I'm glad I could help," she replied. "Remember to take it easy and stay hydrated. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to reach out." She patted your shoulder one more time before getting up.

As Ashley packed up her things and left, Kylian was by your side in an instant, helping you stand and guiding you back to the couch. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "Do you feel better now, baby?" he asked softly, his eyes full of concern.

You nodded, resting your head against his chest. "Yes, much better," you whispered, feeling a sense of calm you hadn't experienced in weeks. "Thank you for this. It was perfect."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. "You deserve it, Y/N. I just want to see you happy and healthy. And I know it's hard right now, but we're going to get through this together. Okay?"

You looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude and love. "Okay," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you, Kylian. So much."

"I love you too," he replied, holding you even tighter. "Now, are you hungry?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you could handle eating. But the massage had genuinely helped, and you felt a glimmer of appetite returning. "A little," you admitted.

Kylian's face lit up with a hopeful smile. "Great! How about a cheese sandwhich? Nice and simple, just the way you like it."

You nodded, feeling a bit more confident. "Sounds good."

He kissed your forehead and stood up, heading to the kitchen. You watched him move with a grace that seemed effortless, and it warmed your heart. The man you loved was doing everything he could to make this easier for you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude.

As you waited, you let yourself relax further into the couch, savoring the lingering sense of tranquility from the massage. The lavender scent still hung in the air, and you breathed it in deeply, feeling more at peace than you had in days.

Kylian returned shortly with the cheese sandwhich and a small cup of tea. He set it down on the coffee table in front of you and handed you a piece of the sandwhich. "Here you go, trésor."

You took the bread and nibbled on it cautiously. To your relief, the plain taste of cheese and bread was gentle on your stomach, and you managed a few more bites without feeling nauseous. Kylian watched you with a mixture of hope and concern, his eyes never leaving your face.

"This is good," you said softly, giving him a small smile. "Thank you."

He smiled back, the relief evident in his eyes. "I'm glad. You need to eat, even if it's just a little bit at a time."

You finished the toast and sipped on the tea, feeling a little more like yourself. The warmth of the tea spread through your body, soothing you from the inside out. You leaned back against the couch, feeling content in this small moment of normalcy.

Kylian sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. It was a simple comfort, but it meant the world to you.

"Thank you for everything," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He kissed the top of your head and held you tighter. "You don't have to thank me, Y/N. I'm just doing what I promised. To love you and take care of you, no matter what."

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. Despite the challenges, despite the sickness and the doubts, you knew you were in this together. And in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you felt peace beyond comprihension.

The road ahead might be tough, but with Kylian by your side, you knew you could face anything.

-Bianca🌻

[chainmail-butch]

Year 3

I stand in a dojo with 5 men. I'd forgotten to shave this morning. Sweat is dripping down from my face to the floor. The instructor, a man I have been working with for 3 years, gestures me forward.

"This!" He says, "Is how you break a man's fingers!" I know this move, and grab his wrist to begin the demonstration. I do not correct him.

"You first establish the bridge by seizing his wrist!" I do not correct him. "You rotate his fingers-"

"She." I interrupt.

The lesson stops cold.

"Of course, Comrade." He says kindly, "My apologies."

"You rotate the comrade's fingers-"

-

I am drunk in a gay bar. It's two in the morning and a beautiful woman has seized me on the dance floor. Behind me, the DJ cheers as her tongue enters my mouth.

Her hands are ravenous. They seek every inch of me as she presses me backward into a wall.

She freezes when her hand squeezes my cock.

Her body is rigid. Her tongue is flaccid in my mouth. She pulls away ashamed and apologetic. She stumbles a few words as the house lights come up and the DJ announces the last call.

-

I am on the phone with a scammer. I have not yet realized its a scam.

"And can I speak to Sophia?" He asks politely.

"I am Sophia, I know that my voice is confusing I-" He does not let me finish.

"Oh!" He says. "That's cool. That's so so cool. I'm cool with that. I'm so cool with that." Something tells me he's lying to me. But, anyway, if I'm ready to send him a deposit I can lock in a wonderful house at well below market rate.

-

I am outside the bar again. Savoring a rare cigarette as I lean against a railing. It's too hot for me to wear my leather inside.

A beautiful man weaves into my vision. His abs glisten with sweat beneath his crop top. His lips are full and red.

"Aren't you just so butch!" He purrs. His hand has found its way onto my arm and he's close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. He and his boyfriend had just broken up and I looked awfully yummy. He knows a quiet little alley down the street if I feel like giving him a taste.

"I'm a dyke" I rumble, voice full of gravel and cigarette smoke.

-

I'm out on the streets, safe behind my sunglasses. My boots make a satisfying thunk and my carabiner jingles reassuringly with every step I take.

"The encampment is just over there!" I call. Under my direction a swarm of volunteers shifts into motion.

As lines of boxes and bottles pass me, one of the security detail steps up and says, "Holy hell, man! You look scary as fuck!"

"Yeah."

I grunt as I hoist a case of bottled water onto my shoulder.

"I know."

[kneesofpoultry]

So, ages ago, I saw (as I'm sure a lot of us did) THIS post about the Middle Eastern, men-only cover of The Sims 2. I kind of thought it was a hoax, mostly due to the crazy high price tag and the fact that I'd genuinely never heard of it before. But a couple of replies on that original post had owned that copy or seen it before.

Anyway, a few weeks ago I'm searching through ebay for the thick Sims 2 expansion pack cases when I find a listing from the UK for around $70AUD, with three expansion packs and, the best part, a version of The Sims 2 base game with the all male cover! I'm happy to say it wasn't a scam and it arrived today, photos below.

More photos and comparisons under the cut:

Left is the all-men cover(a 2009 copy according to the box), right is an Australian version (2006). I think my favourite part about this difference is how the guy in a brown shirt on the very left is the same in both copies, he just doesn't have the woman with him anymore.

(When I say "Australian Copy", I mean sold in Australia. I'm about 90% sure most copies of the sims 2 have either this cover, or the later produced cover with additional sims, such as an alien and a man in black, on it)

The back of the cases, left being the all-men cover, right being the Australian 2006 copy. There are more differences here, notably almost all of the women are gone except for the scientist lady in the top right. The sim in Create-A-Sim is a man on the Middle Eastern copy, the children in the top left are different. The poolside hang out on the 2006 copy had women in bikinis in it, but the Middle Eastern copy instead has a photo of men reacting to a kitchen fire. The women in the centre are gone (once again leaving brown-shirt guy maidenless) and replaced with a butler, a feature that isn't even present in the sims 2 base game. Both the image of the villa and the Grim Reaper have been removed from the Middle Eastern copy.

Inside of both cases. Interestingly, the Middle Eastern copy (bottom) has women on the disc, but the top 2006 copy is just a plain blue disc. I haven't read the manuals to compare them extensively but both seem to have the same information, just in a slightly different order. The Middle Eastern manual is thicker as it has both an English section and an Arabic section.

I won't be able to install this base version onto my pc due to catchment, but if you did play this version please let me know if there were any differences! Thank you for reading along with me, I hope you found this as interesting as I did.

[chrissv4mp]

WHY AREN'T YOU HOME?

NAVIGATION — SERIES MASTERLIST

● — The cool air of the night hit you just perfectly, the heat from the party you had just stepped away from almost completely gone now. You don't even know why you agreed to attend this party. It was just some stupid event for people with over 1M followers on Instagram. Your friends were the ones who convinced you, and you really wish they hadn't.

Your manager said it was good for you as well, and what else were you supposed to say? You weren't really the best at saying no to people, either. So, you had no choice other than to come.

As you sit down on the side of the sidewalk, you rest your chin on your palm, staring out into the empty backlot of the building, eyes darting all across the parking lot until all you can see is darkness. Your phone buzzes repeatedly in your other hand, signaling that a call was coming through, but you couldn't care less.

It was probably just more scam callers trying to sell you some fake product, but as you decline the call, you realize it's not the same number. Your phone buzzes again, "No Caller ID." Flashing at the top of your screen in bold letters. Who else would call you at 10 pm?

Your thumb presses down on the answer button, sliding it to the right and watching as the call duration begins to rise slowly. You move the phone up to your ear, lips parting to speak but not getting any words out before the person on the other line goes first, "Why aren't you home, Y/N?"

It almost feels like your heart stops once you hear those words. You take a deep breath, trying to find an excuse. Maybe it was a fan who just... possibly happened to guess your number? Fuck.

"You got the wrong number, sir." You mutter nervously, but as you hear a chuckle on the other line, it finally sinks in. How could you forget?

"Dont'cha think I'd remember your number after all these calls, sweetheart?" He says, his tone playful. You hated how he was always able to play with you, "Now, answer my question, Y/N. Why. Aren't. You. Home?"

You let out a shaky breath as you stand up, head turning to look at your surroundings as you move to the backdoor of the building, "How do you I'm not?"

The man just scoffs, and you flinch at the loud shatter of glass you hear from the other side of the phone. His tone is more stern this time, almost growling into your ear, "Because I'm at your fuckin' house. Don't play these games, Y/N, you know better.

"Stop calling me!" You retort, breath catching in your throat as you realize the door had locked behind you when you came outside, "Shit." You whisper.

"Block my number." He replies quickly, giggling as he hears your frustrated sigh, "Awh, wait—You can't. 'M'Just gonna change my number, maybe get a new phone...?" He trails off.

You can practically hear the stupid, cocky smile on his face even through the phone, and it makes you wanna throw the device onto the hard pavement beneath your feet, "Fuck off."

As you move the phone away from your ear and hover your thumb over the bright red button to end the call, you hear a loud, booming voice scream at you from the other line, "DON'T HANG UP, Y/N."

Shivers are sent down your spine at his authority, but you still disobey him. You swiftly end the call and then quickly run towards the alley that leads to the front. No thoughts run through your mind except him. Where was he? Your house wasn't that far. Was he here?

As you turn to round the corner towards the front, you feel a pair of hands grab at your waist and roughly pull you down onto their body. You both fall backward, his body acting as a pillow and lessening the impact of your fall.

Before you can scream, his slaps a hand over your mouth, his other hand on your waist in an attempt to get you to stop squirming, "Don't wanna hurt you, mamas, just—Fuck—Close those pretty lips for me."

You only continue to struggle against him, punching all over his body to try and get him to let you go. He doesn't, and it's only when you turn your head that you can see his face. His eyes are wild, and his lips are full, parted so as to let out heavy breaths.

"Hey, you."

@jetaimevous @livialifesblog @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfallthings @ncm9696 @hrtsdollie @snowysosturn @1800-love-me @ladyy-whistle-d0wn @ginswife @spideylovin @dej4vhs @strnlxlqve @joemamaaa42069 @fratbrochrisgf @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1sses @riasturns @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee @ilove2021chris @freshloveforthefit @sturniologals @ifwdominicfike @sturnsdoll @3lizaluvs @matt444nixi @nikki-starx @notmylaa11 @fionaheartswomen @sturni0l0 @sturniolofannnlmao @demzzz @n3-vaeh @melanch0lybby @viiiwwwee @johnniesverr @kaisturni @chrissfawn @obsessedwurex @flower-sturns @styrnioloss @oliviasturniolo21 @lucysturniolo

[wave-nine]

Same anon (From the paid friend Q),

Lmaooo I'm sorry! But I'd totally let him scam me 🍍😭

anons 😭😭😭😭😭 you've got to value yourselves more.......

[blueteller]

Cale Trying to Order Slacker Life in a Restaurant

[Part 2 "spoiler" warning]

Fate: Good evening, welcome to Power Restaurant, may I take your order? Kim Rok Soo: Yes, I'd like to order some Slacker Life, please Fate: Hm…. We might be out of that… Wait, did you by any chance order Death Vow Curse (Light)? Kim Rok Soo: …no? I literally just got here- Fate: Oops, there must have been a mistake somewhere. Let me talk to my manager Kim Rok Soo: … Kim Rok Soo: (looks at his watch; 36 minutes passed) God of Death: Hello, I'm the current manager. So we might have mixed up your order with the White Star's… Kim Rok Soo: Well then- God of Death: We might be able to fix it if you exchange seats with Cale Henituse Kim Rok Soo: There's really no need- God of Death: Right this way, sir! Cale: …Okay? I guess this seat isn't so bad- Deruth: This seat comes with exclusive Count Heir Rights, would you like some? Cale: I'm really- Deruth: Excellent! I'm sure Basen won't mind Basen: Not at all, I wasn't hungry for Heir Rights anyway Cale: I didn't order any- Alberu: The sit next table offers free Prime Minister tea, if you're interested Cale: No thanks. But I'm seriously getting hungry (looks at the Menu) I might as well order a couple of Elemental Power side dishes… an extra Vitality salad… oh, Scamming Aura on discount, nice…! Eruhaben: What's this, you ordered 4 Elementary Dishes on your plate? Cale: It just kind of happened- Eruhaben: This won't do, this isn't healthy at all. You have to take supplementary 5th Earth Power to balance out your plate. As for the mineral deficiency… You should also replace that Fire Suppressing Water drink with some real Sky Eating Water. Cale: This is getting a bit much- Alberu: You requested the extra large Commander Steak too, right? Cale: Yes but- Wait. I thought I only ordered Temporary Commander's Small Nuggets-? Alberu: Nope, I'm pretty sure you ordered the full Commander of Two Continents Steak Cale: …let me speak with the manager again- White Star: I see, so you're the one who ordered all those dishes! I'm impressed! Are you hungry for some Dragon Slayer Legacy as well? Cale: (grossed out) I'm dead certain I am NOT-! God of Death: You called? Cale: Yes, I'd like to register a complaint- God of Death: Oh, we also recommend Saint's Signature Dish for today! Cage: Don't listen to him! Saint's Dish is total trash! They're not even serving alcohol with that!! Cale: Is anyone even listening to me-?! Clopeh: Sir, I brought you some Legendary Fame lemon tea!! Cale: Get this disgusting thing away from me! Sealed God: …Would you like bitter Demonification Noodles sir? Last chance to sign up, we're out of stock after this! White Star: W-wait, I ordered those-! Earth 3: Oi, was someone ordering an extra Commander's Stake around here? Xiaolen: (begging) Would you like some Purifier's Exaltation dessert? It's on the house! Central Plains: (puppy eyes) A-and, some Nature Realm Level sushi, i-if you don't mind... Cale: ….what the f*** is even happening anymore God of Balance: (shows up out of nowhere) ...What's this about someone messing around with too many orders? God of Death: Oh s***. The Power Executive is here-! God of Balance: (leans over Cale's seat from behind, menacingly) You should just order the Full Course Godly Ascension Dinner. Or ALL of those other dishes will land on your bill Cale: I… I... I just wanted some Slacker Life… God of Hope: (pats his shoulder) Cale… They never servered Slacker Life here in the first place… Cale: ... Cale: (┛ಠ_ಠ)┛彡┻━┻

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello fellow,, I just wanted to say I think you're very pretty— And I'd love to watch one of your shows !!

What's your favorite part about your job?

So tell me, do you wanna go?

“Thank you, thank you for the compliment! Aren’t you a flatterer,” Fellow chuckled as he adjusted his lapels. “You, my good spectator, have an excellent eye. And if you’re looking to see far more beautiful things in your life, then have I got the item for you!!”

With the flick of his wrist, he produced a pink shard from his coat pocket. Its clarity was broken by a few scratches, resulting in a color closer to rose fog. The sea glass appeared to be ordinary in every sense of the word.

“This,” Fellow declared, presenting the shard with a flourish, “is rose-tinted glass. Have you heard of it? It’s a special material that was blessed by a fairy godmother! It may look like an ordinary lump now, but refine it, polish it--" He pantomimed cleaning it off with his sleeve. "--and you'll have yourself some fine material for a mirror, glasses, whatever you wish! Anything you see through its face will have its beauty enhanced a hundred-fold!"

"Oooooh." You politely clapped for him. "So that's how your scams--er, I mean shows--work. You butter people up and sell them impossible dreams."

"... That wasn't a demonstration just now, I really was trying to scam you, kid!!" Fellow groaned, letting his smile drop. He dropped the sea glass back into his pocket, then folded his arms. "Don't let it spread, or I could be losin' out on some potential marks."

"Alright, but only if you answer my question too."

"What my favorite part of the job is?" Fellow barked a laugh, but there was no joy to be found in it. "It pays the bills. It lets us survive. It puts snobs in their place. I can be my own boss, go where I like, make my own hours."

"That's it?"

"What, did you expect something flashier?" Fellow angled his hat, allowing the brim to shadow his eyes. "Get your head out of the clouds, kid."

Then he lifted his head and looked out. Past the main building of the school, to the front gates and beyond it. The town below, the sky above, the sea surrounding.

"... Stayin' put in one place never suited me," he said quietly. "There's a whole wide world out there, waiting for my grand ol' shows to come along and wow'm. They'll look at me with stars in their eyes, the crowd alive with sound."

A smile had taken shape on his lips. Not a sneer, not a smirk. A real smile, soft as a baby bird's down feathers.

It dawned on you.

I get it. What he likes the most is... seeing the joy he can bring to others, even if that joy is just a lie.

"Ah, but enough of that!" Fellow swept his top hat off and, inverting it, held it out to you. He beamed expectantly. "In exchange for my time and well-thought-out responses...!"

"Huh? But the deal was I wouldn't let your plot slip if you answered, not money on top of that. I'm barely managing to get by myself on the headmaster's monthly allowance..."

"I have to support myself and Gidel, don't I?" Fellow rattled the hat. "Payment, if you please!!"

You sighed but began digging for loose change.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part two)

(This is part two; part one is here.)

The West Midlands Police were kind enough to upload a high-rez of their surveillance camera control room to Flickr under a CC license (they've since deleted it), and it was the perfect frame for dozens of repeating clown images with HAL9000 red noses. This worked out great. The clown face is from a 1940s ad for novelty masks.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

I spent an absurd amount of time transforming a photo I took of three pinball machines into union-busting themed tables, pulling in a bunch of images from old Soviet propaganda art. An editorial cartoon of Teddy Roosevelt with his big stick takes center stage, while a NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's official portrait presides over the scene. I hand-made the eight-segment TILT displays.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

Working with the highest-possible rez sources makes all the difference in the world. Syvwlch's extremely high-rez paint-scraper is a gift to people writing about web-scraping, and the Matrix code waterfall mapped onto it like butter.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

This old TWA ad depicting a young man eagerly pitching an older man has incredible body-language – so much so that when I replaced their heads with raw meat, the intent and character remained intact. I often struggle for background to put behind images like this, but high-rez currency imagery, with the blown up intaglio, crushes it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

I transposed Photoshop instructions for turning a face into a zombie into Gimp instructions to make Zombie Uncle Sam. The guy looking at his watch kills me. He's from an old magazine illustration about radio broadcasting. What a face!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/18/the-people-no/#tell-ya-what-i-want-what-i-really-really-want

The mansplaining guy from the TWA ad is back, but this time he's telling a whopper. It took so much work to give him that Pinnocchio nose. Clearly, he's lying about capitalism, hence the Atlas Shrugged cover. Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" makes for an excellent, public domain hellscape fit for a nonconensual pitch about the miracle of capitalism.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

There's no better image for stories about techbros scamming rubes than Bosch's 'The Conjurer.' Throw in Jeff Bezos's head and an Amazon logo and you're off to the races. I boobytrapped this image by adding as many fingers as I could fit onto each of these figures in the hopes that someone could falsely accuse me of AI-generating this. No one did.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Once again, it's Bosch to the rescue. Slap a different smiley-face emoji on each of the tormented figures in 'Garden of Earthly Delights' and you've got a perfect metaphor for the 'brand safety' problem of hard news dying online because brands don't want to be associated with unpleasant things, and the news is very unpleasant indeed.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/11/ad-jacency/#brand-safety

I really struggle to come up with images for my linkdump posts. I'm running out of ways to illustrate assortments and varieties. I got to noodling with a Kellogg's mini-cereal variety pack and I realized it was the perfect place for a vicious gorilla image I'd just found online in a WWI propaganda poster headed 'Destroy This Mad Brute.' I put so many fake AI tells in this one – extra pupils, extra fingers, a super-AI-esque Kellogg's logo.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein

Bloodletting is the perfect metaphor for using rate-hikes to fight inflation. A vintage image of the Treasury, spattered with blood, makes a great backdrop. For the foreground, a medieval woodcut of bloodletting quacks – give one the head of Larry Summers, the other, Jerome Powell. For the patient, use Uncle Sam's head.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/20/bloodletting/#inflated-ego

I killed a long videoconference call slicing up an old pulp cover showing a killer robot zapping a couple of shrunken people in bell-jars. It was the ideal image to illustrate Big Tech's enshittification, especially when it was decorated with some classic tech slogans.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

There's something meditative about manually cutting out Tenniel engravings from Alice – the Jabberwock was insane. But it was worth it for this Tron-inflected illustration using a distorted Cartesian grid to display the enormous difference between e/acc and AI doomers, and everyone else in the world.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Multilayer source images for your remixing pleasure:

Scientist in chemlabhttps://craphound.com/images/scientist-in-chem-lab.psd

Humpty Dumpty and the millionaires https://craphound.com/images/humpty-dumpty-and-the-millionaires.psd

Demon summoning https://craphound.com/images/demon-summoning.psd

Killer Robot and People in Bell Jars https://craphound.com/images/killer-robot-and-bell-jars.psd

TWA mansplainer https://craphound.com/images/twa-mansplainer.psd

Impatient boss https://craphound.com/images/impatient-boss.psd

Destroy This Mad Brute https://craphound.com/images/destroy-this-mad-brute.psd

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

[wormshirt]

As someone who uses a mobility aid and has muscular tension that cause me general body and joint pain and stiffness from the hips down on both sides what would kill me with doctor who wouldn't be the running it'd be the fucking stairs. They don't always have stairs in doctor who but oh boy when they do. I can run super fast and then inevitably injure my hips and suffer through it and keep limping along through the pain but if it's a flight of stairs between me and safety I'm so dead. If I don't take those stairs 1 step at a time my knees WILL lock or my muscles will throw such a massive hissy fit that it'll take me TWICE the time it takes your average person to go up those stairs and I will be killed or kinapped or put through some strange and unusual scifi horror by step 3. The doctor and I (limping) run down 50000000 hallways and we reach the end of a hall with only a reasonably sized staircase on the other end of it and the doctor immediately starts vaulting up the steps 3 at a time until he turns around and notices that I have stopped completely at the bottom of the steps to stare at him blithely. He starts trying to get me to go up the stairs or ask what the hell I think I'm doing and I slowly lower myself back down to the ground and cross my arms over my chest and begin reciting funeral prayers with a serene smile. The big evil monster comes after me and I am eaten. Badly. The doctor yells NOOOOO really loud and cries a little maybe idk and then is emo about it for like half a season until they end up back by the staircase in a season finale or something and it's revealed that the stairs are magic stairs that preserve the conciousness of any ugly ass bitch who hates staircases enough and the doctor is implied to have know this all along. and the doctor gives me some heartbroken major depressive disorder poster child look and a little speech about how they "couldn't have come back here for blah blah excuses reasons" and I smile sweetly and say "why the fuck didn't you have an emergency exit strategy or some shit incase the guy who uses a fucking cane couldn't do some shit like go up stairs super fast because he uses a fucking cane. Hello. Not even mad. Are you stupid. You are a timelord. Your people let your gay ass fuck off to who knows where because you're the dumbest timelord ever and they couldn't stand your stupid ass. I can't believe I'm stuck on this gay ass space station with this lame ass death for all of eternity because you didn't think that the guy who struggles to go up stairs would struggle to go up stairs. You wanna know what the alien said to me before he ate me. He said hey that dude you're here with sucks so bad and is stupid and gay and lame as hell. And I would have said 'yeah lol' but then he ate me. He ate me because of stairs doctor. Stairs." And then I'd stay forever trapped with my soul in that staircase just so I could spend the rest of enternity sending spam calls and telemarketers to the tardis phone. The doctor's investigating something outside an alien bar somewhere and sees ads like XXX Brittany Wants To Spend a NIGHT With YOU Sexy! Hot Singles in your area! Call here for a night of FUN! HOT SINGLE Xxeksifloryean Milfs Looking For a MATE in GALAXIES NEAR YOU!!!!❤️❤️❤️ and softly puts a hand on the posters and goes "I'm sorry I couldn't save you....." five seconds later jerry from *TOTALLY REAL* intergalactic statefarm NOT A FAKE NOT A SCAM calls up the doctor on the TARDIS phone to ask about the doctor's insurance info. Somewhere I kick an ugly ass step on a stupid fucking staircase and break my ghost toe. I hop around and start swearing.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

For as long as I've had cash to carry, I've carried a little cash in my wallet explicitly to give anyone out panhandling when I'm running errands, or hitchhikers when I drop them off. I learned the habit from my mom who carried a lil tote bag in the trunk with cash, travel hygeine kits, and nut/wheat free protein bars and water bottles. She picked up a lot of people on the way out to Chico and other ag towns, and it was important to her that she always leave them at their destination with resources.

One day, I was driving a date home from lunch and we had our leftovers in the car with us. I pulled off to give a man a little younger than I am now my on-hand cash and when we drove off my date started scolding me for giving him my money instead of giving him our leftovers.

I was, frankly, stunned. The idea that it would be better to hand the man a styrofoam box with a half eaten burger than to give him a $10 bill he could use to buy his own food was baffling to me.

"Well, if he's really homeless, I'm sure he'd be grateful for anything. And besides, he's just some stranger off the street! Why do you just believe what his sign says?" My date was so sure that I had given the man money because I pitied him. Because I wanted to help. Simply couldn't fathom that I'd done it because he asked and I could do so.

See, I don't give out my on-hand cash because people are needy and I am benevolent. I do it because people who ask for what they need have to be able to interact with people who will give them what they ask for in full recognition of their humanity. It's what lets you KEEP asking for what you need when it matters or is hard. And trust me. No one is asking a road full of strangers to help them meet their needs if it didn't matter to do so. I don't really care WHY they need what they need or if they're honest with me about it. It's not important to me to know those things. Someone asked. I could answer. So I did.

I've been seeing the conversation of "can you really trust who people say they are on the internet? Why are you giving money to strangers? What if they're scamming you?" popping back up more often as the world descends into conflict and climate change and medical neglect. I get it. If people can just post a sob story and get away with defrauding people of thousands of dollars, it feels unjust! Maybe you're even offended on behalf of ACTUAL victims and the money they might not get because it went to a fraudster!

It sounds just like my date that day, so sure that I was giving money to a young man on a street corner because I saw him as broken and in need of my salvation. If you are giving to strangers and upset that the money may serve different functions than you believed at the time, then why ARE you giving to strangers? Why do you feel so entitled to micromanage someone's life because you might give or have given them a gift? Perhaps you should reserve your gifts for those whom you won't feel compelled to attach strings.

I give to fundraisers online not because I assume every one is genuine. Do I check things out? Sure! But I also assume that once I have chosen to give, even someone who has been totally honest in their pleas may still spend "my money" on something unrelated. Why should I care? It was a gift. It's not mine anymore.

"But I could/would have spent it better!" Then you should have. But you chose to spend it by making it a gift. You don't get to dominate somebody because of that. If you're NOT confident that you are fine never thinking about the money again once you give it to the person in question, don't give it to them! But don't make yourself the person who demands why others give cash to panhandlers who "might not actually need it" instead of some other, more insulting option. Honestly best practice is probably to Simply Not Comment on how others spend their money unless it is somehow also your money and you need to access it.

I think it would be good to learn that about online fundraisers too. Especially when the consequences of falsely naming someone a faker or a fraud is, as it so often has been when it comes to the dynamic of begging strangers for money, a fucking death sentence. Maybe you just let people make the choice they're most comfortable with and do the same for yourself without acting like you have the right to the roles of judge, jury, and executioner.

And if you think this is about a specific set of fundraisers? Yes. It is. It's about nearly every surge of desperate fundraising I've seen over the last decade. And I'm sure it'll be about the next decade's worth too. The internet is the modern world's traffic stop, and social media fundraising is the new panhandling. The arguments for and against haven't changed just because the medium has.

[whumpster-fire]

The (N+1) Little Pigs

Where N is a comically large number.

From: Fairy Tales To Tell Other People's Children To Get Out Of Being Asked to Babysit In the Future: An Anthology

Once Upon A Time, there were (N+1) little pigs, who lived in a house with their mother. One day, their mother kicked them out to seek their fortunes in the world, because they were unemployed losers who turned their rooms into pigsties.

The First Little Pig saw a farmer selling bales of straw. "Aha!" he thought, "That looks like the perfect material to build a house for the minimum amount of effort!" He told his brothers this. They all looked at him like he was an idiot.

"A straw house is easy to build, but it's also easy to tear down!" said the Third Little Pig. "What if a wolf comes?" He started to show his brother studies about the maximum wind loads of straw houses, but the First Little Pig wasn't listening.

"Wolves are a hoax," said the First Little Pig. He bought the straw anyway, and built a rather ramshackle house.

The Second Little Pig laughed at the first little pig's foolishness, but when he saw a woodcutter selling sticks, he thought: "I want a big house, but I don't want to waste too much time building it. These will be perfect."

The Third Little Pig saw a bricklayer selling bricks, and thought: "These will make the strongest house possible. I'd like to see a wolf break into this!"

Soon, the Big Bad Wolf came along. He saw the houses the pigs had built, and he came up with a plan. He knocked on the door of the First Little Pig's straw house.

"Good Morning," he said to the First Little Pig. "Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior -"

"Go away, I'm playing Minecraft!" shouted the First Little Pig, and slammed the door in the Big Bad Wolf's face. So the Big Bad Wolf thought of a better plan.

"Hi, I'm installing Rooftop Solar, do you have a moment to talk about -"

"Go away."

So the Big Bad Wolf thought of a better plan.

"We've been trying to reach you concerning your car's extended warranty -"

"Die in a fire, Big Bad Bitch."

So the Big Bad Wolf thought of a better plan. He knocked on the door one more time.

"Little Pig, Little Pig, let me come in!"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

The Big Bad Wolf peered in the window, and decided the hair on the pig's chinny chin chin wasn't much of a threat. It was kind of unimpressive actually. A neckbeard, even.

"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

Then the Big Bad Wolf huffed, and puffed, and blew the straw house to pieces, and that was the end of the First Little Pig.

He moved on to the Second Little Pig's house, and repeated the process, only without the several ineffective scams. He went straight to the threats and demands, which is an admirable quality in a villain.

"Little Pig, Little Pig, let me come in!"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

Then the Big Bad Wolf huffed, and puffed, and blew the stick house to splinters, and that was the end of the Second Little Pig.

The Third Little Pig watched his brothers' demise from his brick house, and made a smug FaceBook post about inferior construction methods. When he heard a knock on his door, he said without even waiting for the wolf to speak: "Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

"Uhh, this is your neighbor Bob. I just wanted to check in and see if you're okay, I saw on NextDoor there were two houses blown in by a wolf, and my neighbor Dale said both the victims were pigs, so it seems like there's a pattern."

"Oh. Sorry," said the pig. "Don't worry about me, I've got the strongest house in the whole town!" and he patted the brick walls.

Bob the Neighbor left, and the Big Bad Wolf came along.

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

"Aww, come on, man, you didn't even give me a chance to knock!"

"This story's getting too long."

"Fair. Ahem… I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!"

The Third Little Pig waited smugly in his armchair, waiting for the wolf to tire himself out. But what he didn't realize was that his attic windows had blown in. The Third Little Pig had built his house with a gable style roof for aesthetic reasons, and he had neglected to install hurricane ties as required by building codes in many areas prone to high wind disasters. With wind blowing inside the attic and over the roof, it acted just like a wing! The whole roof lifted off the house and blew away, and without the structural support, even the sturdy brick walls collapsed, crushing the Third Little Pig armchair and all.

The Fourth Little Pig built his house out of stone, with structurally adequate roof design. The wolf huffed and puffed with all his might, but the house just wouldn't budge!

So the Big Bad Wolf waited for the Fourth Little Pig to leave the house. After a few days, this little piggy went to market, when this little piggy should have stayed home. But this little piggy had to buy roast beef, because this little piggy had none. This little piggy saw a familiar shape in the parking lot, and cried WEEE WEEE WEEE WEEE, half of the way home. Not all the way home, because he only got halfway there before the Big Bad Wolf caught him and ate him.

The Fifth Little Pig purchased a 7500 sq ft McMansion in a gated community. But the house soon began to fall apart due to its subpar construction, and the Little Pig lost all his money in the subprime mortage crisis. The bank foreclosed on him, and threw him out in the streets, where the Big Bad Wolf had an easy meal.

The Sixth Little Pig built a sturdy wooden house: not a flimsy stick one, but solid timber framing. The wolf huffed and he puffed, but he could not blow the house in. Instead, he poured gasoline all over the exterior walls of the house and lit a match. The house caught fire, and turned the Sixth Little Pig into fried bacon.

The Seventh Little Pig built another stone house, and a very nice one it was. In fact, it was a castle. But he'd built it on a swamp, so his castle sank into the swamp. So he built another castle. That one sank into the swamp. So he built a third one. That one burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp, but the fourth one stayed up! And that's what the Seventh Little Pig's son inherited: the strongest castle in all of Pigland. However, when Wolfram the Conqueror invaded in 1066 AD, the Seventh Little Pig's castle proved incapable of withstanding the ferocious assault of the Warwolf Trebuchet. The Seventh Little Pig tried to surrender before the monstrous siege engine was even completed, but the Big Bad Wolf just laughed, and said there was no way he was going to all that effort to build such a large trebuchet and not use it. Soon the castle lay in ruins, and the Noble House of the Seventh Little Pig was broken.

The Eighth Little Pig built his house out of reinforced concrete. "I'd like to see you huff and puff this house down!" he boasted. "And I've got enough supplies in here to last for two years!"

But the Big Bad Wolf knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy, and the guy who a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy knew a guy who knew was an armadillo who worked in the demolitions industry. The armadillo set up several very large explosive charges all around the fourth pig's house.

"Little Pig, Little Pig, let me come in!" said the Big Bad Wolf.

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!"

The armadillo laughed, and said: "Then Fire In the Hole! I'll blow your house in!"

With an almighty BANG! that stone house went away, And what happened to the pig isn't pleasant to say. The locals claim porkchops and cutlets rained down On Roofs, streets and sidewalks for three blocks around And windows were broken all over the town.

A-hem! Enough rhyming, back to the story.

The Ninth Little Pig didn't build a house at all. He just wasn't into it, man. Building houses meant being part of the system! He crashed on other people's couches and smoked weed all day. One day there was a knock at the door.

"Hey, man! Wanna buy some weed?" asked the Big Bad Wolf, who was wearing a clever disguise: he had a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a t-shirt that said "420." The Ninth Little Pig stared at him through bloodshot eyes. He scratched the hairs on his chinny chin chin. "Sure, man. Totally radical." He let the wolf in. The wolf was planning to eat him, but the smell of weed was so overpowering that he immediately became high, and they talked about metaphysical philosophy for three hours. Sadly for the Ninth Little Pig, after that the wolf got the munchies and ate him. Due to the sheer quantity of The Devil's Lettuce the pig had partaken in, the Big Bad Wolf was tripping balls for several weeks.

The Tenth Little Pig decided to move to a faraway land where there were no wolves and build his house there. On his journey he came to a bridge, where a troll was waitin for passerby.

"Ha ha!" said the troll. "You must pay the troll toll! I will eat you, delicious pig!"

"Wait!" cried the Tenth Little Pig. "My big brother is coming, and he has a house made of sticks! Wouldn't you rather eat him instead?"

"What." Said the Troll, and there was a long, awkward silence. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I think this is the wrong fairy tale," said the pig.

"I agree," said the troll, and ate him, so the Big Bad Wolf lost this round.

Later, the Big Bad Wolf came to a train track, where he saw a speeding trolley heading towards a switch. On the track ahead were five little pigs tied to the train tracks, on the other track was a single little pig. By pulling a lever, the wolf could make the trolley switch to the other track, saving the five little pigs but dooming the single pig. The Big Bad Wolf didn't pull the lever and allowed the five little pigs to be run over, because he was a Big Bad Wolf and killing more pigs was a desirable result for him. The Mad Philosophy Professor who had tied the pigs to the tracks and sabotaged the trolley's brakes lost his funding due to the lack of conclusive results, which just goes to show the importance of sound experiment design.

The Seventeenth Little Pig holed up in his house and refused to leave. The wolf waited and waited, but as he was waiting, he saw a little girl in a red hood wandering through the woods with a picnic basket. The Big Bad Wolf decided to try to eat her instead, but that is a story for another time. The Seventeenth Little Pig seemed safe, but little did he know that a deadly swine flu pandemic was spreading throughout the community.

The Eighteenth Little Pig built a very grand and sturdy house of brick and stone, but it had large windows that were easy to break into. One night, a pack of four Big Bad Wolves broke into his house. "What the Devil?" cried the Eighteenth Little Pig as he grabbed his powdered wig and Kentucky Rifle. He huffed, and he puffed, and he blew a golfball sized hole through the first wolf, shooting him dead on the spot. He drew his pistol on the second wolf, but it missed him entirely because it was smoothbore and nailed the neighbor's dog. He had to resort to the cannon at the top of the stairs loaded with grapeshot. The grapeshot shredded two wolves in the blast, and the sound and extra shrapnel set off car alarms. The Eighteenth Little Pig fixed bayonets and charged the last terrified wolf, who bled out waiting for the police to arrive because triangular bayonet wounds are impossible to stitch up. "Ah," said the Eighteenth Little Pig, "Just as the Founding Sounder intended."

The Nineteenth Little Pig went to college to become a Marine Biologist. This had many benefits, including living on a research vessel far away from any Big Bad Wolves. Sharks, on the other hand, were a different matter.

The Twentieth Little Pig didn't build a house: he hid in a cave, where he survived on a diet of 10,000 spiders per day and never left. He survived the Big Bad Wolf, but he is an outlier and should not have been counted.

The End

[mirroredmemoriez]

John Kramer and The Denlon's

Cracks everything in my body. It's time to yap. I keep going on in many posts about the fact John is just as flawed as those he tries to ''better'', so I want to go over one of my main comparisons in a tad more depth than I have before. John Kramer and Jeff Denlon honestly are very similar when it comes to their backstory and need for revenge due to grief. Even though John always states that he tests people so they become grateful for being alive- It's very obvious in some cases, he's doing it for his own type of gratification too. For example, Cecil Adams who caused Jill Tuck to miscarry and then Cecilia Pederson who scammed John. He didn't put these people in traps just because of his philosophy, but because they were also very ''close to home'' for him.

The loss of a child is very integral to both John and Jeff's character. Both of these men crave justice.... However, the way they want it and how they achieve it isn't exactly the most healthy thing. It leads both of them to neglect their partners, Jill and Lynn. (Just took a break to eat leftover spaghetti I am legit lost in the sauce- I don't plan out these little rants I do, so I just go where rambling takes me.) When it comes to the major differences between them, Jeff is more rage fuelled, at least in how he carries himself. His anger manifests more verbally and physically than John- Which is his downfall, alongside him not listening or acting when needed. This is a bit of a reach, but another thought nonetheless and nothing I say needs to be something I'm 100% on anyway. Danica Scott, the only other witness to Dylan's death didn't cause Jeff's son's demise, however her lack of action and fleeing the scene made her someone Jeff would want to take revenge upon anyway.

Amanda, although she had more involvement with Gideon's death, seeing as she was the one to convince Cecil to rob the clinic, didn't take physical action either. However, outside of her just being a drug addict- It is debated whether or not John always knew about her role in Jill Tuck's miscarriage, another reason for her to be tested.

We've also got basic comparisons such as the fact Jill and Lynn are both in the medical field and having mentioned Lynn again? Her demeanour is more like John than anybody else I have brought up in this post I'd say- I can't really word well why I think that, but it's there anyway. (Another thing to add is how in Saw 3, John in his delirious state starts getting confused and thinking Lynn is Jill.)

Might as well slip some others thoughts in here too whilst I'm fucking rambling this much- I don't have too many complex thoughts on Jeff Denlon I guess, I basically seem him as an example within the Saw universe about a person who cannot let go enough that it results in his trauma and vengeance taking over his life and ending it too. He's not a evil or terrible man, just very flawed. He had some of the physically easiest traps in the franchise to complete, but because he never made an effort to heal and instead remained stagnant within his grief... He takes too long to take action and morally flip flops all over the place when it comes to what decision he'll make- It's that or he doesn't assess the long term consequences of things such as never forgiving. I personally don't think he ever has to forgive someone like Timothy Young- However, I do believe he let's it impact his life and those around him too much. Corbett didn't deserve the neglect she faced and she herself is a child grieving her sibling. Grief and forgiveness are very hard topics to navigate, but I honestly as a viewer felt the most bad for Corbett more so than Jeff or even Lynn. Coming back to Lynn, I believe she ''learnt'' the most or at least came to terms with things faster within her trap than Jeff. She didn't have time to dwell or not be fast paced with her choices, because her life was connected to John's. She was doing her best not only to stay alive, but to get back to her family even if it was dysfunctional. (Me when I come back to this in my drafts weeks later, time to attempt to find the wave length I was on whilst doing this before.) It's an interesting though to picture different people in other traps. For example, if Lynn was going through Jeff's test. Would she have reacted faster than him and made clear cut decisions? Could she forgive? Jeff is no medical professional and his rage wouldn't let him care for John to the best of his ability so we know he'd fumble that, which is why I'm more so focused on Lynn in his test. Lynn's grief is more ''subtle'' compared to Jeff's and as an audience it's hard to pinpoint what her thoughts and opinions of those involved with her sons death would've been. She turned to antidepressants and her fractured marriage led her to having an affair, not to mention the child neglect. But when it comes down to it, we don't see as much as a drive for revenge and justice within Lynn as we do Jeff. This would mainly come down to screen time, setting and general context but it's an interesting thought of how she'd handle someone like Danica or Timothy if they were right in front of her.

This is why I say she learnt the most from her test compared to Jeff in his? After everything she went through with Amanda constantly up her ass and power drilling through a guys skull- All Lynn wanted was to reunite with her family. Like, the only time we see Lynn exert full physical violence is in a deleted scene where she attacks Amanda.... And even then that is because she wants the key for her collar more so than a drive to murder the other woman. On all accounts, she actually won that scuffle as well.

But then for example Jeff when he finally encounters John? He just can't help himself! Lynn literally is on the floor bleeding out, reaching for him not to leave and this man just can't NOT go and fulfil his need for vengeance. He'd literally just acted upon it before too by shooting Amanda, though that is more understandable giving the context of the fact she shot Lynn..... I think overall this is why so many people dislike Jeff but they just can't word it? Like he's been dubbed ''slow ass motherfucking Jeff''- But it's not really the speed of execution, it's either the lack of long term critical thinking and or the fact he's indecisive? Jeff doesn't have the weight of a contraption around his neck and or his life truly on the line like his wife.... However, somehow Lynn is still managing her test better than him with a freaky little lesbian on her ass and doing backhouse brain surgery on some random old dude with a fucking power drill. I'll also bring up the fact that like John and Jeff, Mark Hoffman has a pretty similar drive and motive to the both of these men. Just like how Jeff saw his sons death, Mark saw the aftermath of his sisters murder for example. All three of them feel justified in their actions against those who have wronged them and etc....

And as I always bring up in character studies like these, the perceptions from the audience are so interesting- Especially when you start comparing characters. It will come as no surprise when I say, I am a pretty active Tumblr user... Through this? The interactions with media and popularity of characters from Saw on this platform are decently clear. First I'll get it out the way that screen time plays a big role in making characters fan favourites. Although, Adam is a subversion to this as he's only in one movie (alive) and likely the most popular Saw character- Anyway! Using John, Jeff and Mark as examples here still... As previously stated, these three men can be considered quite alike in some aspects! But our perceptions of them are quite different due to how they're presented and what we know about them. John is an older sickly man, his life being cut short by the fact he has terminal cancer. His wife miscarries and later on then becomes ex-wife and then also somewhere down the line he gets scammed by a fake cancer treatment....All in all? Dude's kinda got fucked over. But what I haven't mentioned yet in this brief is the fact that whilst most of this is going on, peepaw is designing elaborate death traps and testing people in them slash indoctrinating some into his fuckass ideology! He as a character get's quite a neutral response and or a 50/50 split? He's Jigsaw, the face of the franchise.... There is a decent amount to discuss in regards to him. However, when it all comes down to it it I wouldn’t say he’s favoured as much as other characters.

Moving to Jeff, he witnessed his own son get killed in a hit and run and the grief and injustice of that basically made him spiral into neglecting himself but also his family. He cannot move forward from the loss of Dylan and this is why during his test he is so slow to act- I think one thing to mention here too, is this is something John likely accounted for. Jeff’s test is designed for him and the challenge isn’t that of " OH CUT YOU ARM” it’s for him to overcome his grief and to choose whether to forgive or let those involved with Dylan’s passing die. It’s easy for us as viewers behind the screen to think that he could’ve done almost everything faster. But we’re not Jeff. It’s shown time and time again mentally he just cannot move on and the only reason he is making progress though the test is due to its nature, average therapy? Jeff just wouldn’t go because he refuses to confront HIMSELF in regards to his own grief and would rather wallow in fantasies of revenge.

Mark Hoffman? Obviously the case I’ll bring up with him is that of his sister's murder. Angelina is his only close relative, with no other mention of Mark’s family in the franchise really. So, when she is killed in a case of domestic violence and he also sees her dead body? Yeah, that’s certainly the kind of thing to fuck someone up mentally. Which is why Mark then developed a drinking problem to cope and started to display more erratic behaviour such as shooting a man three times who’d actually surrendered beforehand…. By the time Seth Baxter his sister's killer is released from prison via a technicality- Mark has no quarrels with taking his revenge via abducting him and placing him in a Jigsaw like trap. However, as we all know, this trap is by no means escapable and is only being used by Mark as a scapegoat to get away with murdering Seth. This act then kickstarts his life as an apprentice for John when he himself is abducted.

(I legit forgot this was in my drafts- Months later. I’ll post this now even if it’s not really complete…)

[aurorangen]

Isaac's encounter with Renee

Transcript:

Vincent: We'll look into the Sterling-Rico family for this scam. Let's win this case ok? Isaac: I will do my best. Why are you so eager to win this one anyway? Vincent: Felix is family really [smiles] he's my partner's grandad, so I don't want to mess up.

[Isaac was surprised to hear Vincent's relations to the Reichmanns and wanted to ask more] Renee: [runs up to them and jumps into Vincent's arms] Vince! Surprised to see me? Vincent: What are you doing in Evergreen Harbour? I thought you were heading to work this morning.

Renee: I know you've got Grandad's case and I'm actually free today! Thought I'd hop on the train here. [It was definitely awkward hearing them converse like he wasn't there. He wanted to interrupt, but it was also great to see Vincent be casual. Maybe he'll open up to him since he's seeing some of his personal life]

Vincent: Ahem Isaac, this is my girlfriend Renee. Isaac: It's a pleasure to meet you Renee [pauses for a split second] Reichmann. Renee: Likewise Isaac, I hope Vince is treating you well at work.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Three

Literally saw the orange sweater and my heart sank. Here we go.

George's hair!! I hate him.

Also literally WHY does he have to lend them his own personal recording equipment? It really is ridiculous how bad the record company treated them considering they were the fucking BEATLES.

Magic Alex! Honestly though why is half of me like "Yes! Scamming king! Take their money and RUN!"

"My Imagination" is physical cringe level.

"The rhythms in the guitars anyway." It's a callback to their earliest days when they had to say that to hustle, but I think part of them really did believe that back then, and part of Paul still does. That the four of them are all they need.

And then in response to that callback to early days to convey current not-articulable feelings, John responds with one of his own. His mini rant about how stupid it is to use three mikes and never come together and sing as a GROUP. It's like he can't bear the thought.

Paul singing his guitar and drum ideas. Apparently my sexuality is women and unhinged men. There's nothing to be done about it. Poor George literally can't get a word between all Paul's "Downownownowneernernerner" and "chuchuchutah ba Ta. Ba." And if I was a good person I'd be annoyed. But no. It's too hot.

"Corny's alright on this one though because what he's doing's corny." Be fucking nice to him. He needs you to be like you were on 909 about every single thing he does because he cares so much what you think. Of course they don't talk about that kind of thing so Paul has no idea. But look at his face!

I also like "the same old shit," George. "Don't Let Me Down" is so fucking sexy idgaf what anyone says.

But here's the other thing is that John is SO down for all of these wrong suggestions Paul's making. If they're not literally saying the same thing at the same time, it's instantly "Yes. Exactly. Yeah."

So John says "alright girls" and sounds like he's just so above Paul and George squabbling and bickering and couldn't care less except for the fact that they're annoying him. Because that's his macho front, right? But then look at his face while they're fighting, eyes darting and full of love, sorrow, and what honestly looks like fear.

Ringo stays the hell out of all of it. Good for him.

Shortly after Paul says "I can't frickin do it on camera either" John starts strumming. And soon George joins, while Paul's pacing and gesturing. And at first I was confused like "they're not being very good listeners that's not very nice" but they're trying to cover up the dialogue for Paul's sake. Trying to take away the cameras if he can't do it with them. "Forget about candy camera." It's very loving, very protective, especially from George. John, we expect this kind of thing from, when it comes to Paul. But George is literally in a fight with him and protecting him at the same time and I find it to be so beautiful.

Gosh, there's so much in this little rant though. "I always feel as though I'm tryna put you down and stop you playing *voice cracks and goes higher* but I'm not." How he looks at John when he says "and I never get any support or anything" and the "and you know it's right." I usually find the 'Paul's the mom, John's the dad' analogy reductive, but boy is it perfect here.

But really, Paul, you've got to just let George do his thing. "I can only do me, you know." George is absolutely right in this argument. He's actually very emotionally mature for being the youngest.

Ugh it's hard to leave them on this note. But I'll pick back up tomorrow