Long story short, i have a new kitten. His name is Washington.
Short story Long-
About a month after i agreed to take in Saint 14 (aka my foster. who is going to his forever home in october) my aunt found 4 stray kittens of similar age in her garage. She was able to catch them and their mom and after a lot of talking and debating, I ended up taking one of them in.
Wash was pretty shy when i got him, flinching away from hands and being terrified of being picked up. But after a lot of work, he's becoming a very well adjusted kitten who's currently chasing his tail on my bed lol.
Bonus: Kitten photos! Left is Washington. Right is Saint 14 (who's grown since the hand size kitten i last posted.)
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One thing that cracks me up about Detective Conan is that of all the people that Shinichi surrounds himself with, it’s is the exact handful of people who are willing to make mental leaps such as “16-year old shrinking to a 6-year old”, like that hasn’t been a scientific impossibility for all of forever
Like. Instead of adhering to common sense, he is friends with everyone who decides nah, I’m not gonna do that today and this child is actually my best friend/this random dude I’ve only met once who is and has documented pictures of being 16.
It’s just kinda hilarious that with any other group, his identity would probably be just fine, but no. He surrounds himself with the only people in the universe who would believe that, willingly or not.
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My Arthur: Some Night Thoughts
In between the cancellation of The Acolyte (there's still hope, Clone Wars came back) and the premiere of Rings of Power S2 -- and I PROMISE you that each and every dudebro I blocked in these situations on the former bird app either had crypto in bio or a timeline that was entirely focused on a sports team...
I mean, why not think about RDR2?
I want to think what it means that so many players speak of MY Arthur, like we all have little pocket Arthurs as pets.
"I like my Arthur to be a scary bad guy so I keep him shaved bald."
"Well, my Arthur looks his best with Level 7 or 8 hair and a Level 1 or 2 beard."
"This time I'm making sure that my Arthur has the best satchel and the Legend of the East outfit."
"I always pamper my Arthur before a hard mission. I buy him a ribeye steak at a saloon, get him a bath, and let him sleep just one more night in a hotel. I feed him up to Overweight before Guarma and Chapter 6."
"My Arthur is high honor. He would never do XYZ."
"Oh yeah? I think my Arthur loves being low honor and beating the crap out of people."
"Weird. My Arthur's favorite missions are the dinosaur bones."
All of these Arthurs are different and yet the same. All of them are doomed. You have to rewind the timeline and go back to a Chapter 2 save to have a healthy Arthur who can chat and sing with his compadres at the campfire. Nobody's Arthur, until you take him out of the game and into some of the absolutely and utterly beautiful fanart and fanfics, can succeed with Mary Linton, or Charles for that matter. The R* canon Arthur is always doomed. What does it say about us that we can't bear to let go of him, even though his own dialogue tells us he clearly sees the writing on the wall as early as Chapter 1?
Is it just the natural human abhorrence of the reality that we too will someday die without accomplishing all that we wanted to? I can relate. Big mood, Arthur.
In fragmenting into all of these disparate Arthurs -- Roger Clark has pointed out more people own copies of the game than live in Ireland -- maybe that's how the egregore, the Arthur conjured from the collective consciousness of millions of individual players, stays alive. Many writers of fanfics want their Arthur to be theirs. Not just a rough fuck on daddy's kitchen counter, although I've read that story too, and not just the Not Enough Beds trope, though that too was a fine story. They want to smash Arthur because who doesn't? But they want him to love them, despite R* Arthur having not one single solitary relationship skill. This new Arthur teaches you to draw (the preponderance of Arthur fics I've read involve a "you" reader). Your wish that he address you as he does a mare, "That's mah good girl," comes resplendently true. Sometimes, such are the fix-him powers of You that You and he escape the gang before the name Thomas Downes can be uttered. Arthur's heart beats for You and You alone. Sometimes he protects You from danger. Sometimes he accepts a free sample of sponge cake from You in a bakery. All of these Arthurs go out Arthuring all over the wrong but familiar RDR2 America, often with You at their side. Sometimes You even find him on the cliffside before his rattling last breath, and drag him to safety and a warm, dry climate. One Arthur I read was even saved by a doctor in Mexico with the only available treatment of the period -- collapsing part of the lung -- and recovered fully, having four kids with Sadie Adler and saving most of the RDR world along the way.
You can have your Arthur and play him too. Indeed, a fresh shot of Roger Clark's bravura performance -- combined, as he is the first to point out, with the animators' work, for example giving him the most delicious lower lip -- compounds the infatuation should it threaten to recede.
People suffer profound grief over this game. Of course, it is their own grief from non-digital life: "It is Margaret you mourn for" -- Gerard Manley Hopkins. Perhaps the loss of their Arthur and the way his surviving friends gradually adjust to the loss helps people make room for the holes in their own lives. But that's the thing. That's the comfort at the bottom of the grief pit.
Because once you find your Arthur, including within yourself (I don't just mean cosplay, but I've seen people of all genders don the stained blue workshirt, the suspenders, the neckerchief, the goddamn hat, and wear Arthur on their bodies)... you can't ever really lose him. He changes you. And that may be the strangest and most wonderful thing you can say about a work of fiction.
Keep sharing your Arthurs. The chibis, the young Arthurs cradling poor Isaac or reading to child John Marston, the AUs, the low-honor black coyotes and the high-honor 14-point stags. Marthur, Charthur, Albert Mason x Arthur. All the versions of him. Because they're also You.
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sometimes i'll think about how, at the start of episode four, pete offers to help porsche guess who he might have kissed at the pier the night before, and i imagine a crackfic where porsche goes on a quest to find out who it was by kissing his colleagues one by one - starting with pete of course that man was ready to sacrifice himself for the cause when porsche had questions about casual hookups later in the episode, offering himself up without hesitation
he visits them one by one; pol is confused... but intrigued, it's like one of tankhun's series! arm already knows it wasn't him but insists they check it anyway... just to be sure, right? you never know. ken says he'll break his face if he tries anything (very suspicious, porsche makes sure to highlight his name). big doesn't know whether to be angry or confused, he wasn't even there??? no he and ken didn't sneak in halfway through because of a secret crush, this isn't one of tankhun's series! tankhun asks what they're doing and if he can join but porsche isn't about to open that can of worms.
maybe at some point kinn catches on and realizes porsche doesn't remember but is rating the others based on if they kiss better or worse than the ~mystery person~, which is giving him an ego boost up until porsche declares that one of his friends is actually a better kisser and therefore can't possibly have been involved (said friend is very confused about why khun kinn is giving him death glares for the rest of the week)
you can even throw in some chan or vegas or anyone else if you want to, just go crazy with it, i think that'd be really funny especially if porsche just casually blasts vegas after they make out for a solid minute saying "no you're good but the other guy was just less desperate you feel me, sorry bro".
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Oh, don’t mind me… just thinking about how Ace is the only character with whom both parents are confirmed to have the will of D- something we know to be major though we still don't know why for exact, & Ace used his own will to care. To try to look out for those disenfranchised like he was growing up. To treat its ethos as an unimpeachable code when he finally found a place that finally wanted to protect him. To put every effort into being a good brother.
He set out trying to define himself, for himself, and yet became increasingly littered by nods to the people he loves- his public surname, the tattoos, the necklace, etc.
He wanted to live to the fullest, with no regrets. To give meaning to the man he was without the imposition of legacy. And, at the end of the day, that looked like making the choice, the active & fought for choice, to be loving. Then he died giving thanks for the ways in which that love was returned.
If that’s not beautiful, then I’m not quite sure what is.
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“Ah, my dear it’s lovely to see you again. Smoking? Oh, I only do it once in a while to wind down, much to my darling friend Mr Utterson’s displeasure. I’ve started to take better care of myself, I’ve been told I appear happier and somewhat healthier by the maids around the manor. Come, Poole has just left us a pot of tea for us to share, I’d love to hear about how your day went today as well.”
((I headcanon that Jekyll occasionally smokes as a way to relax, and started when he was a young adult.))
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